I feel bad for the Prince, honestly. The poor guy is trapped in a hopeless attempt to fix up a loser like me. All I can think as I sit and try to listen to the lecture is how much I must be tormenting him by simply existing at this school.

Class continues on, as I make an attempt every few minutes to sink lower and lower into my chair. If I sink low enough, I might be able to slither away unnoticed.

I know in my soul the time will come when the teacher finds out I did not do whatever it was that happened with the vase at the start of class. 

And that time comes just before the end of class when I am a few minutes away from tasting freedom. The professor spends the entire lesson teaching some spell that warps an object from one place to another, and beating into our heads the importance of using a wand for this spell for “accuracy.”

As if anything I do will be more accurate because a wand is involved. 

Eventually, Professor Goodwing splits us into small groups and gives each group an object to practice with. 

We have to flick the wand directly at the object, say some words that mean nothing to me, then point to the place we need to move it and say some more meaningless words.

The first guy in my group stands, clears his throat, flicks his wand at our small teacup, and says, “Juxi c’nob utmisc.”

Then, he points to a white X the teacher has drawn on the table, and finishes with, “Cu’mibi.” The teacup poofs from existence for less than the blink of an eye, and moves to be perfectly centered on the X.  

The group claps, and the next person goes. She does it on the first try, no problem. Then the next student. And the next… then… me.

I stand there with my wand to my chest, wishing the class will end, or perhaps, if I am lucky, I’ll cease to exist at this very moment.

But no. 

I still exist.

And there is no Prince to save me here. He ended up in another group working just behind us.

Just do it, Allen. I tell myself.

I’d been repeating the words in my head over and over as everyone else went. I know I can say the words exactly as they say them, and that should be enough, right?

Sweat rolls down my forehead as I put out my wand, give a flick, and say, “Juxi c’nob utmisc.” Yeah. That pretty much sounded like what they said.

I move my wand to the X with a, “Cu’mibi.”

And…

POP! The teacup moves to the white X, alright. 

But something tells me it isn’t supposed to burst into five thousand small shards of porcelain and shoot around the classroom once it gets there.

Oops.

The entire class ducks with their hands over their heads, except for me, who is frozen in place with my phoenix wand back at my chest and eyes closed tight.

“Mr. Silverlake?” calls out the voice of Professor Goodwing. I know without looking that he is standing directly over top of me.

Sure enough, as I open my eyes, I see his shadow reigning over me. 

I turn around slowly. “S--sorry professor.”

What else am I supposed to say?

Whispers start to spread around the classroom and I can’t even imagine what they are saying about me.

Professor Goodwing’s eyes sink into a scowl as he opens his mouth to speak, but to my surprise, someone else speaks up first.

“Excuse me, Professor, if I may,” says Prince Rhettlin from behind Professor Goodwing.

The professor turns around to face the Prince with a lighter expression.

“Mr. Silverlake, here, has been selected because of his mastery of more artistic types of magic, rather than the practical. That is something we at Wizard Prep often overlook for more functional applications. He thought having someone like him around would be good for the culture of the school.”

There he comes, to my rescue once again. My shoulders relax a touch knowing at least he isn’t going to abandon me the moment he finds out I am the loser I am. Now he knows, at least.

“Ahh. Yes. I see,” Professor Goodwing says as he turns back to me. “Be that as it may, Mr. Silverlake, I do expect you to catch up on other aspects of these lessons.”

“Y--yes, Sir. Understood,” I stutter. 

Seriously, at what level do we learn invisibility spells?

Professor Goodwing returns to the bottom stage of the classroom and talks for a minute longer before dismissing us.

In a clattering rush, all the students begin to gather their things and start to filter out of the room, none faster than Prince Rhettlin. He is out of the room before I even turn around.

Curse. I lost him that fast?

I am fairly certain he said something about another class right after this one during our walkover. 

I can’t really blame him if he decided I require too much effort. I wouldn’t want to mentor me either.

With nothing more to lose, I slug my way out of the classroom slowly, making sure I get in no one’s way and stall for as long as possible. No part of me wants to go to another one of these horrible classes.

The room and hall have returned to silence by the time I leave.

I step out of the room and nearly get a heart attack when someone calls from behind me.

“Would you look at that, he has emerged. Took you long enough.”

The Prince is waiting for me, right outside the door, leaning against the swung-open door with his ankles crossed.

I try to hide my start, but I am sure I fail. “Oh. Uh… you’re still here?”

“Naturally. I told you, we have Magic for the Homelife next. I was attempting to not make you late two classes in a row, but if you are set on being late, I have no issues with that.” He chuckles and his laughter sounds like the most majestic birds in the Lifewood forests as his cheeks fill up with a rosy red.

I do everything in my power not to allow my eyes to linger on his face.

Instead, I simply hold out the phoenix wand to return it to him.

The Prince shakes his head. “You can keep it. I have at least twenty of them. Just don’t lose it. That’s a good one.”

“Oh I… uh…” I can’t say anything. Am I allowed to accept gifts from a Prince? A wand like that couldn’t be cheap. “Thanks?”

“Speak nothing of it,” he says somewhere between a demand and a way to shove the conversation to the side. “Now, off to class, yes?”

“Can’t I call in sick?” I ask in the softest, most pathetic voice and I scrape my foot across the ground.

“Are you?” The Prince asks, almost sounding actually concerned.

“Well… no, but—”

“Skipping class on day one? You have more gumption than I gave you credit for!” He laughs again. “But no, I suppose I cannot actually allow that.” 

He throws his arm over my shoulder and starts leading me down the hall.

My whole body grows warm under the weight of his arm. 

Ignore it. Ignore it. Be casual. Be normal.

I take a deep breath, and for possibly the first time since I arrived at Wizard Prep, speak like a normal human. “But you saw everything back there. I shouldn’t be here.”

The plan is not to involve the Prince in my woes, necessarily. I think my goal is more to release him from his duty of pretending like there is any hope. If I give him the window, he can take it, and we can both be free of this.

“Nonsense,” the Prince says instead. “You survived one class, correct?”

I nod. “Technically.”

“Then who is to say you cannot survive one more?”

And, in one sentence, I am pulled back to a stuttering child. “I—well, I can’t… I only survived because you helped me. You backed me up to the Professor, and you turned that glass into a crown. I could never do that.”

The Prince stops and removes his arm from my shoulder.

Oh no. I said something wrong again.

But instead of anger on his face, he is smiling. “You think I could do that? Please. I can tell you are not from this kingdom if you have not read all the tales of how shamefully terrible the King’s youngest son is at magic.”

Despite the negativity of the words he is saying, he says it all with that perfect white smile shining and a certain levity that seems unnatural in connotation.

“Magic like that is far more advanced than I can do,” he finishes and continues to walk down the hall like none of what he spilled to me should be addressed further.

Is he that terrible at magic? If so, why is he my mentor? Shouldn’t someone excellent at magic teach someone as horrible as me?

And most importantly of all, if Prince Rhettlin hadn’t been the one to turn my tragedy into a beautiful, shimmering crown… who had?

I stall behind as he continues on with my head spinning about all of this. “But… then… how?” 

The Prince turns around to me, continues to walk backward, and tosses me a wink. “Perhaps you are better than you think you are.”

Of all the things I know, I know that is not the right answer.

But there isn’t much else I can do except keep walking. 

I survived one class, I can survive one more.