“Does it have to be now?” Yulda asked pitifully as Marlen brought her tea and a request from Zerathon. He placed the tea service on the usual oak sideboard and poured her a cup. The steam wafted up with a sweet, earthy scent as he gently put it in front of her.

“He says he’ll wait all day if he must,” Marlen told the Archon, who, with her feet up on her desk, was clearly past the point of her day where she felt like adulting.

“What for?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. He says it’s for your ears only.”

“I’m tired,” she whined. In front of others, Yulda Izaria was an unyielding force of nature. But for him? Between her petulance and youthful face, it was often difficult for him to believe she was a divorced woman with two children. “Now is the only real chance I’ll have before evening, isn’t it?”

“It would seem so,” Marlen said, apprehensively.

“...It’s about Maziar, isn’t it?”

“It would seem so.”

“What’s he done this time?” Sighing, Yulda sank deeper into her chair and looked at the ceiling. Marlen was about to answer her when she pointed at him and said, “Don’t answer that, just send Zerathon in. He has a mouth. He can tell me.”

Marlen smiled. “Drink your tea first.”

Despite her childish behavior, Marlen Linrel had served the Archon long enough to know how truly devoted she could be. The woman never stopped working. She wouldn’t even drink her tea if he wasn’t there to remind her it was there. Even if she were told to take a break by the gods themselves, he was pretty sure she would ignore them.

But the most important thing he’d learned over the years was that Yulda would do anything short of destroying the world for her children, no matter what they’d done wrong—he wasn’t sure she even knew that about herself.

After making sure the Archon finished her tea, Marlen went back to the waiting room where Zerathon and Maziar were. There was an unfamiliar girl with them who was quite oddly dressed. Watching their interactions, he wondered if it was the girl rather than Maziar who had caused whatever problem that brought them here.

Unless Maziar offended the girl, which was also entirely within the realm of possibility.

“The Archon will see you now,” Marlen informed them.

Maziar and the girl stood, but Zerathon shook his head. “I’ll go in first and explain the situation,” he said. “You two stay here with Marlen until I call for you.”

“Why?” Maziar asked.

“To keep you from making a bigger fool of yourself, for starters,” Zerathon grumbled and nearly slammed the door behind him as he entered Yulda’s office.

Ah, thought Marlen as he absently straightened the papers on his desk, So Maziar did do something.

He’d have to arrange more time for him and the Archon in the coming weeks. If he could, that is; the creatures of the Darklands seemed to be moving more than any of them liked, and Yulda was already planning to head to the front in Kvell as soon as she was able.

Marlen looked at Maziar over the rims of his glasses. The boy looked frustrated, but otherwise fine.

She hasn’t told him, has she? he thought dismally before going back to his work. Isn’t this just how it always is? One mess after another.

One day he’d get them to speak sensibly to one another.

One day.

But he had a feeling as he watched Maziar nudge the girl next to him that this was not going to be that day.

* * *

Ennette was still deep in thought when Maziar nudged her with his elbow.

She glared at him. “What?”

“Why did you ask that?”

“Ask what?”

“About the time thing?”

“You were listening?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to be deaf, too?” Maziar gave her a sour face. “I haven’t even done anything. Outside the obvious—but that was entirely unintentional, and it could have happened to anyone.”

She had to give him that, at least. “Fine,” she said. “I was just curious.”

“Liar.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your information is too specific to fall into the category of ‘just curious,’” Maziar said, leaning back. “If you’re going to lie, you need to learn to lie better.”

“I really don’t need you to tell me that,” she said. “And it’s not a lie. Not really.”

“A truth that avoids the answer is still a lie.”

“That’s a terribly negative way of looking at it,” Ennette told him. “What if it’s just that I’m uncertain of the real reason to begin with and would rather not waste time going down rabbit holes? I’ve been in this world for, what, two, three hours? Pardon me for not being fully adjusted to the reality that you’ve summoned me to.”

Pursing his lips, he looked at his feet. “...Sorry.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry. For summoning you,” Maziar said. “It wasn’t meant to be like this.”

Ennette looked at him as he awkwardly shifted away from her. Strands of pale, brownish-blonde hair had escaped from his ponytail, some sticking to a light sheen of perspiration on his neck.

It had taken them time and a lot of stairs to get to the top of the tower where the Archon’s tower was. She was surprised they didn’t have some kind of elevator magic—or even technology—but Zerathon explained it was because casters still needed to practice physical magic.

That, and the Archon had ordained that if anyone really needed to see her then they should do so with a heart full of meditation. The professor seemed very proud about this, but to Ennette it sounded an awful lot like it was to stop idiots from coming to her with stupid problems.

Had she just wanted to issue a simple complaint, Ennette certainly would have turned around and said “forget it” after looking at the stairs spiraling up indefinitely toward the tower’s peak.

“I guess I’ll forgive you,” she said, leaning back. “For now.”

Having a hard time understanding what was going on wasn’t a great reason to be nasty to him if he was being genuine. If he was willing to apologize to her, then maybe he wasn’t a total lost cause, and in the event that she had to win him over, she should play it safe for now.

Peering out a nearby window, Ennette saw it had already gotten dark. She cursed the stars earlier, but they weren’t even the same stars that she knew. New stars. New moon—two new moons, to be exact.

What time was it, anyway? Ennette groaned as her stomach growled.

Maziar gave her a side glance, and she blushed.

“It’s probably breakfast time in my world,” she said sheepishly. He laughed.

“Here,” Maziar said, handing her an apple.

“Where did this come from?”

“Somewhere.”

“Is it poison?” Ennette asked suspiciously. Taking it hesitantly from him, she turned it in her hands, inspecting it for signs that it had been tampered with.

“Why the heck would I poison my own familiar?”

“I don’t know. You’re the villain.”

“Am I? Ah, well, I guess I would be to you. I’ll try my hardest to be less evil in the future.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Maybe,” he said, smirking.

Ennette couldn’t help but laugh as she rolled the apple around a little more before taking a bite. It was sweet. Juice dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it off, hoping that no one else had seen. She was already sweaty, tired, and in pajamas—why was her body trying to embarass her?

When she looked up, the Archon’s secretary, Marlen, was staring at them.

“What are you looking at?” Maziar asked, scowling.

“I’m just… wondering,” Marlen said, turning his gaze back to his papers. He was a willowy man with long black hair tied in a low ponytail. Behind a pair of rimless glasses was a sharp pair of gray eyes that seemed to pick up on the smallest things.

“About?”

“Whether or not I should warn the young lady about your… tendencies.”

Maziar made a face. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of pervert.”

“Are you?” Ennette asked.

“Hey now! We just met!” he exclaimed. Ennette and Marlen chuckled as Maziar turned red. “Seriously!”

“No, no, young miss. Maziar may be a troublemaker, but he is mostly harmless,” Marlen said. “It’s just unusual for him to take an interest in someone else. I assume it’s a short period of time considering I’ve never seen you before.”

Ennette nodded. “Yeah. I just got here thanks to someone, you see, so I don’t really think he has a choice.”

“Oh?” Marlen said with interest. Before he could inquire, however, the door of the Archon’s office opened again. Zerathon bowed to someone Ennette couldn’t see before walking back to her and Maziar. He didn’t seem particularly worried, so she tried to quell any fears she had of being turned into a toad.

“The Archon has agreed to see you,” the professor told her. He took her hand in his and patted it gently. “She promised that appropriate arrangements would be made after she personally assessed the situation.”

“And me?” Maziar asked.

“You’re to go in with her as well,” Zerathon said. “She’s quite cross, as you can imagine.”

“I thought I’d get to talk with her alone?” Ennette said, pulling on his hand.

Zerathon shook his head. “You’ll have to make that request yourself, I’m afraid. She wants to meet you both first so she can get a better idea of what has happened.”

Crestfallen, Ennette swallowed. Even if she was willing to give Maziar a chance, she still didn’t want him to know more than he had to—whether it was about her or what she knew.

“Zerathon, what’s taking so long?” a fierce voice snapped from inside the room, causing Ennette to jump. “Maziar! Bring the girl and get in here!”

“She’s in a mood, isn’t she?” muttered Maziar under his breath.

“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” Zerathon grumbled back.

“If you please,” Marlen said, pointing to the door. “Unless you want to make her even more upset, I suggest you go in while she’s still sitting down.”

With a deep breath, Ennette took a brave step forward. “Here we go,” she said and entered the office of the Archon.