Her studies and classes were no refuge for her heavy heart. Even the name he gave her, her most treasured possession, turned sour as of late. Her classmates took it to make fun of her for it. 

The malicious hush whenever she passed by wouldn’t subside even after she manifested her first spark of flame - her first ever magic, as far as she knew. And even that little spark was making her head spin and her breath thin.

“Good job,” mused the instructor as she almost gave up her very soul managing the little flame. Her classmates presented the very same flame as if it was as simple as raising a pinky. She was sweating and short of breath, nosebleed threatening to flow once more.

“Is that even worth complimenting?” one of her classmates snickered.

“Even ‘a cherry on top’ may shine under generous light,” the other answered, “I mean, at least she didn’t faint this time.”

The low giggles made Cherry lose her focus and with it her spark of magic. She let her hands fall on her sides tiredly. Her arms felt worse off than when she was cutting and moving the wood for last winter. 

Everything felt bleak since that day. She couldn’t find it in herself to be proud of her progress in reading and writing - because the one she wanted to show the most was gone.

“Quiet down,” the instructor clapped his hands twice. “Let’s have another round in a bit. Try to focus on the form this time. Keep in mind that the magic is all in the mind of the Mage. With good enough imagination you can do a lot even if your mana reserves are small.”

Everyone in class stole a glance at Cherry at the last sentence. The first time she manifested the little flame, through pain and sweat, the instructor tutted and commented on her small reserves. She just didn’t posses enough mana - which was why it made it so hard for her to do what others - with more mana - did so easily.

Cherry took a deep breath, stealthily wiped her nose into a handkerchief to check for blood, but it was fine so far. Just as she was tucking it inside her pocket, the door opened swiftly and a man walked in without waiting to be admitted.

As the eyes of the class and instructor landed on the newcomer, they all bowed slightly, “My Lord.” They chimed at once.

Surprised, Cherry was one beat behind with her greeting, but her voice was weak, making her words almost a whisper.

The Duke didn’t seem to notice her, quite pointedly, as he took the whole class in. His gaze barely scraping past her. “I’m sitting for a class today. Don’t mind me.” The Duke took a spot near a window and perched there. When he saw everyone staring at him blankly still, he gave a nod to the instructor, “Continue.”

A wave of lowest of hushes passed among the class. Although it wasn’t unusual for the Duke to observe the class, it was always an unnerving sight to see. Making all present nervous, while some heart’s trepidated with fear, some were anxious to prove themselves. After all, only His Grace’s approval could graduate them from Mage apprentice to full pledged Mage of the Duchy.

“Alright,” the instructor clapped twice again, gathering everyone’s attention, “Then, flame magic. Once more.” Even though he was told not to mind the Lord, the instructor could not not add, “Do not disappoint His Grace.”

The balls of flames quickly manifested in the extended palms of the class, one by one. Each bigger than the rest. The last one was almost side of a closed fist - that was Pete - the star of the class. 

Cherry’s unfortunate order was right after. She breathed in and breathed out. She stole a glance at the Lord, whose eyes refused to even catch her sideways. He was looking somewhere down, his face placid and emotionless. Yet somehow, Cherry could tell he was quite disappointed by the showing, as he tapped his feet ever so lightly. She probably took too long to prepare herself, because the reluctant crisp eyes finally found her for a split second, before darting back to who knows what wall.

She took a hesitant step forward, her heart was eager to prove herself. Even if it was all for naught now. And why even, she pondered. She made an honest mistake. But he could have corrected her then and there. But he didn’t. He made fun of her and named her weirdly after a stupid garnish on a cake. Good for looks only. To make everyone look better in comparison. He made fun of her naive self, who thought they could be equals. And then he was done, told her the truth and laughed at her in his heart.

Biting her lips, she willed the tears away. Now was not the time. She would not think. She would only imagine the flame on the top of her palm. Pleasantly warm. As big as a closed fist. She repeated the words in her mind again and again. Willing the flame to stay still as it fought her and tried to escape her control. It was close to warring her own thoughts, her own self. She had no idea why it felt that way for her. What should have been instinctive was hard and torturous. The flame refused to listen. Refused to stay in that small ball as she willed it. The small of her back was already drenched and her hands swayed along with the flame. No, everything did, not just her hands. She heard someone call her name, the stupidly weird name. A warm trail sneaked its way down her nose. And right after, her whole body followed the path.

Cherry was not awake as she fell into His Grace’s hands. She was not awake to see his contorted face, the worry and anger swaying his usually cool features. 

Hooking one hand under her back and the other under the knees, he held her up in his embrace. The crisp air sparkled around him as he passed some of his mana to soothe her limp body and mind. 

His eyes never left her pale face. His voice was freezing as he said, “You’re dismissed.” He adjusted her in his arms in hopes to make her more comfortable.

“Oh, Your Grace. It is never a good idea to allow a simple commoner to attend the classes,” the instructor mused, “I had warned you against it, but the results speak for themselves.”

His Grace’s eyes shot up. “You,” his voice was eerily calm, “I am dismissing you. You are never to act as a Mage in any way or form as long as your feet touch the ground of my territory.”

Not waiting for an answer of any kind, His Lordship took off.

“My Lord?” a familiar soldier called as he saw the Duke leave the classroom. He was slightly surprised to be met with a sight mirroring months past, when he saw his Lordship hold and take the girl in similar manner, back at the village.

“Healer,” was Duke’s simple command.

The soldier which was tailing Cherry nodded as he assessed the situation. He promptly turned to another soldier standing by, “Go call for a Healer. Send him to the Lord’s chambers-”

His Lordship gave a grunt and one of his brows shot higher than the other.

“-the maids’ quarters.” Corrected the soldier. He was quite sure the first location should have been correct. This was His Lord after all, the one who ordered him to watch over the Lady in his arms just as soon as she had arrived in the palace. His Lordship never showed so much interest in any Lady, largely on the basis that they only showed fear and terror towards His Lordship in return. Besides, who would even complain if he took her to his own chambers? The soldiers would throw a party! Albeit a secret one.

All this soldier’s musing took but a second, the longest second he saw his Lordship hesitate on his feet. For the Lord, his Grace, the Ice Duke himself, was seemingly rooted to the spot. 

The soldier’s hope rose again, “Should I send the Healer to your-” 

“Nonsense,” the Lord cut him off before he could finish the thought. Little did anyone know, the tips of the Lord’s ears burned at the very same thought. But he forced himself to keep calm and his first step was towards Cherry’s room after all.