NB! The chapter features mature content 

“How does the land make profit? Farming?” I ask Selina.

The girl is sitting on the bench in front of me and dangling her legs. The Hare Rivulets has land suitable for agriculture and enough water supplies, so it can exploit the land and make it profitable. The villagers seem capable of farming.

“Not exactly,” the girl looks exited; she’s always happy to talk about “serious issues” with me.

“But why? What about your vast fields? What are you growing then?”

“Herbs are the principal export,” Selina answers proudly.

“Just herbs? How do you manage not to tighten your belts all the time?”

“Before your arrival, your first arrival to this place, it was as you said, Mage Avis. The villagers were growing traditional vegetables and cereals, but the soil is not good for them. Besides, the first owners of the land took most of the earnings. You and Kal, I mean, Mage Kal... you decided to grow, brew, and sell herbs and potions to other counties.”

I rub my eyebrow, “Anyway, it doesn’t seem profitable.”

“On the contrary! I know, I’m not a herbalist mage, and I can’t talk about it like you or my brother, but I know for sure that one bottle of “night flower” is as expensive as twenty sacks of grain. And this potion is not the most expensive stuff the herbalists are brewing here. Most herbs grow on their own, naturally; they don’t need special treatment. That means simple non-mages can take care of them. Nevertheless, some grass and flower species were brought and cultivated. Kaleb hires herbalist mages to work in fields, and labs, and greenhouses near the cursed fountain. Many Birdhouse interns from Herbological faculty are coming here for practice, thus the land has free labor.”

“Go forth and feast on knowledge! Poor students are everywhere: either on my Earth or here. Granite of wisdom is the only reward,” I sniff, “admiring” the system.

These conversations with Selina or Robin have become a common event for me, for I was delicately avoiding blondie and marigold being ashamed and embarrassed for my actions and unexpected feelings.

Kaleb gathered the castle servants and officially announced my return. I was not present, having cowardly pretended to be ill. Since that moment I am in the center of everybody’s attention. People from the village and castle are bringing me little presents in lovely baskets or pretty wicker boxes: flowers, pastry, some adorable trinkets I don’t think I deserve. I am blushing all the time having no idea how to react or gracefully accept the gifts, bows, and tears.

So I decided to follow the path of least resistance and start sneaking around the castle and it’s nearby territory like a ninja: hiding in the shade of alcoves, behind the limbs of Nila trees with lushes blue crowns or simply keep quite among the piles of old books and shelves in the library.

I have not touched upon the yellow dress topic, burying it deeper into the back of my mind. To my great relief Zarya decided to visit the Eagle castle and dig around, for I can’t look into her eyes without blushing.

Her departure was not just her wish, but also the necessity. It’s all known that the world is filled of rumors: the official announcement of my return was like a popular post that spread at the speed of light and, probably, reached Livius, the Crown Prince, for in no time I received a letter with invitation to the Black Night, the annual event for the cream of society.

Kaleb’s face was pale when he was reading the letter aloud to me and Zarya, “Not his style to send such a dry letter to a person who has returned from the dead!”

“It might be the Chancellery’s mistake,” Zarya looked at me in fear as if someone was already torturing me mercilessly. “We can’t send her to him now! They’ll make Avis an easy prey.”

“The letter is definitely addressed to three of us,” said Kal with gloomy face.

Consequently, it was agreed that Zarya should go and find everything out, while Kal must stay and teach me some court tricks and basic spells, just in case. And that is one of the reasons I am avoiding him. Like a lazy but highly inventive child I find any pretext not to have any private lessons with a young man. Once I hid under my monstrous bed, when heard blondie’s footsteps in the hallway (it might have been anyone, of course which made my action more weird), and Robin, my little savior, was making up an incredible story about my present position, while I was cowardly couching under the bed and thinking about my stupid decisions and life in general.

You can’t postpone deceasing by doing deep breathing!

Having been given a book with elementary magic, I start drilling some senseless patterns and word combinations. It is tedious, but helpful not to think about anything.

Especially Zarya.

I have million questions about their culture, and why we share the same language. On numerous shelves I observe books written as if in alien hieroglyphics; some books resemble normal human alphabet on their covers and spines, but most of the rest represent languages I can definitely distinguish, like my own.

According to blondie, I don’t have to make any mysterious movements and gestures with my hands or make powerful superhero poses. The main things are good intonation, word stress, and articulation. Surely, it doesn’t seem to work! And I was learning (one by one, without understanding) the elementary parts that might...some day in beautiful blooming future...help me to create complex spells.

***

I’m sitting in my bed with a book on my laps. I have been trying to produce a short demonstrative spell that is actually a core of almost every basic combat spell. Maybe it was because of the amulet around my neck or my stupidity, but I face a zero result, for my fingers must emit, as described in the ancient book, “funny eclectic serpents”, but they don’t…

“No, that’s enough!” I shut the book with a snap and sink back against the pillows. The light in transparent spheres is slowly dying while I’m fading into the dream:

I feel the weight of her on my body. I raise my hands slowly touching her bare waist and hips. She giggles and presses her body against mine. I can feel her hard nipples through my thin nightgown. Her lips are soft and a little bit moist; I slightly open my mouth while she’s lightly brushing her lips over mine. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate when suddenly I hear her moan.

“That’s not Zarya,” the realization hits me, and I open my eyes.

On both sides of me is a waterfall of snow white hair and a girl’s face with a cherry-red mouth in the middle.

“Did I do something wrong, Mage Avis?” says the girl, naughtily pouting her lips.

“Who are you?” I’m already sitting, but can barely understand where I am and what is going on, still thinking it’s a dream.

“It’s me, Cygnie, Mage Avis. Don’t you recognize me?” the girl is in a playful mood: she hugs me, giving a flirty kiss. “I’m glad you are back,” she purrs.