The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4) (2 page)

He let his thoughts drift to Tess, wondering what she was doing right now and whether she was thinking about him. Given her demonstrated hunting prowess last year, she was probably out collecting a winter’s worth of food for her and her father to share until the next school term started. He tried to imagine what she would say to him if she knew he was having nightmares and screwing up his magic.

She’d tell me that I’m a good person and that she supports me.

Hayden shook his head and draped an arm over his closed eyes. In truth, he had no idea why he was still so upset about his involvement in the war last year, and about the fame and popularity that had come about as a result of it. He accepted that he did what he had to do, that he wasn’t a bad person, and yet there was still something blocked inside of him that wouldn’t let him rest and move on.

Sighing, he lurched out of bed and rummaged around in his knapsack in the corner of the room, tossing clothing over his shoulder with careless disregard until he found what he was looking for at the very bottom.

He lifted the Medal of Heroism to eye-level and studied it for the umpteenth time since receiving it. The medal was cut in the shape of a star, rendered in crystal so that it would catch the light if he ever actually wore it, reminiscent of a prism. It was edged with some sort of silver metal to make the shape more definitive, and hung on a blue velvet ribbon that could either be folded and pinned to his clothing or draped around his neck. It was one of the highest honors a person could receive in the Nine Lands, and he had acquired one before his fifteenth birthday.

Hayden shoved it back into his bag and began piling his clothing on top of it once more. The thought of actually wearing the thing in public made him shudder, like a declaration of arrogance for the whole world to see.

He was halfway through repacking his bag when a gentle knock on the door stirred him from his thoughts. Expecting Zane, Hayden turned and was momentarily surprised to find Zane’s mother looking back at him, Bonk perched on her shoulder. Since he had left the door ajar when he came in here to sulk, he wondered how long she had been standing there watching him in silence. Judging by the sympathetic, slightly sad look on her face, longer than he would’ve cared for.

“Hi, Mrs. Laraby,” he blurted out on instinct. “Sorry about the mess in here; I was just cleaning up now.” He had no idea why he bothered; whatever she had come up here to talk to him about, it wasn’t the state of Zane’s bedroom, which usually looked like a tornado had recently swept through it.

“I thought you might be napping,” she ignored his previous greeting, stepping further into the room and setting herself gently on the edge of Zane’s mattress to face him. “I’m told that fighting monsters can be very tiring work.”

Hayden forced a small smile and resumed packing his knapsack, much slower this time, mostly to give himself something to look at other than Mrs. Laraby, because she made him miss his own mother.

“Usually it is, but this one went pretty quick. The worst part was the cold and the ice.”

“Zane tells me you’ve been having trouble sleeping, and that your magic is beginning to suffer as a result,” she changed the subject abruptly.

Without thinking, Hayden responded, “Zane talks too much.”

Instead of scolding him, Mrs. Laraby smiled and said, “Yes, sometimes he does. I suppose with so many sisters he has to, if he ever wants to be heard.”

A long moment of silence fell between them, during which Bonk took flight from Mrs. Laraby’s shoulder and coasted down to Hayden’s.

“You know, Hayden, you can talk to my husband or I if there’s something on your mind. You’re like a son to us, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

Hayden swallowed a lump of emotion and continued his careful folding of a black sock, tucking it neatly into his bag.

“Even if Zane gets killed following one of my hair-brained plans?” The words were wrought from him almost against his will. “Will I still be like a son to you then?”

The silence spiraled horribly between them then, but Hayden refused to be the one to break it. Even Bonk shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other on Hayden’s shoulder, like he was trying to think of a way to end the awkward moment but had no idea how.

When Mrs. Laraby spoke again, it was about something else entirely.

“I came upstairs because you have a visitor, who seems to think you’re going to be spending the rest of the winter holiday with her and requests that you bring your things downstairs so that you can depart immediately.”

Surprised out of his funk, Hayden met her gaze for the first time since she knocked on the door and said, “Tess is here?” unable to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. He wasn’t sure that he would sleep any better at her house than at Zane’s—especially because her father might still fantasize about killing him—but the thought of seeing her cheered him immensely right now.

Mrs. Laraby said nothing, and Hayden began throwing the rest of his belongings pell-mell into his knapsack, forcing the bulging bag to close and slinging it over his shoulder. He had followed Zane’s mother halfway down the stairs before he had the courage to say, “You never answered my question.”

Frowning thoughtfully, she turned to look him in the eyes and said, “I’m not sure what the answer is yet.”

Hayden felt a pang of sadness at the thought of his favorite family in the world turning on him, in the event he ever did something stupid enough to get their only son killed.

At least she didn’t lie to me about it.

There didn’t seem to be anything left to say at this point, and he hurried past Mrs. Laraby down the last few stairs and turned the corner into the living room, where his mouth fell open and he immediately dropped his bag onto the floor.

It wasn’t Tess waiting for him by the fireplace, standing with her back to the flames and her hands clasped neatly behind her.

For the second year in a row, Magdalene Trout had come to visit him at the Larabys’ during winter break.

Last time she had come to him dressed in her official Council of Mages clothing, the golden robe over a black shirt and pants. She looked strange to Hayden’s eyes in the casual clothing she now wore: dark blue corduroy pants and a knitted top, her hair pulled up in a bun. Somehow having her hair pulled back made her look even more like her sons, who happened to be two of Hayden’s least favorite people in the Nine Lands.

“There you are,” she greeted him without inflection, casting an appraising eye over him as though trying to decide whether he was worth her time. “Are you ready to depart?”

Zane was standing in the room with him, though Hayden hadn’t seen him come in, and he could hear Florette and Victoria whispering from the kitchen and trying to peek into the room when they thought no one was looking. If Mrs. Trout was aware of the attention she was receiving then she was ignoring it thoroughly.

“Uh…to where?” Hayden asked, still thrown by the fact that it was her standing in the living room and not Tess.

“Oliver informed me that he promised you a family favor during your last term at school—well, when you both
should
have been at school,” she amended, lips flattening momentarily at the memory of her son disobeying her orders to follow her into the Forest of Illusions during a war.

“Favor…” Hayden trailed off, though he was struck with a wave of understanding. “Oh, right. He said you would help me get my estate back.”

She nodded. “If you are still intent upon receiving my help, then you’ll be spending the remainder of the winter holiday at my home, so that we can prepare you for the trial.”

“I—
what?
No one said anything about spending the winter with Oliver and Lorn, or about any trial…” The thought of being locked in the Trout estate with his least favorite schoolmates during the holiday break was almost worse than the nightmares he’d been having.

Magdalene arched an eyebrow at him and said, “You didn’t think you were just going to be able to walk into the Council room and ask for your things back, did you?” as though he was the stupidest thing she had ever laid eyes on.

“Uh…” Hayden chose not to answer that question truthfully.

“Do you want my help or not?” She folded her arms across her chest and leveled her gaze at him. “I’m not interested in wasting my time on someone who isn’t willing to do what it takes to win. So decide right now: are you a waste of my time?”

It was the challenge more than anything that drove him now. If there was one thing Hayden hated, it was being called worthless.

“I’m ready to leave when you are. I hope you warned your sons I’m coming.” He favored her with a cold smile, though now that he thought about it there was some entertainment to be had if Oliver and Lorn weren’t aware of his upcoming visit. He tried to imagine the look on the latter’s pudgy face when Hayden Frost walked through the front doors of his home.

“Good, then come along,” Magdalene beckoned him forward imperiously, offering her hand to him while using the other to grasp her Mastery Charm.

Hayden took her hand but turned to face Zane and Mrs. Laraby, while Bonk tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you for the—”

They vanished and reappeared on the manicured lawns of a massive estate between one blink and the next. Hayden released Magdalene’s hand and wheeled on her.

“That was rude. You didn’t even let me say goodbye properly.”

“Feel free to cry about it, if it will make you feel better.” She shrugged and set off towards the house, and because Hayden had nothing better to do, he followed her, lengthening his stride to keep pace with her though they were almost the same height now.

The Trout estate looked almost nothing like the Frost one, other than the fact that they were both larger than any house had a right to be. There was a fence around the main compound, but it looked more decorative than functional, thin bars of alternating gold and silver lining the perimeter of the front yard. They approached the gates along a paved carriage lane, though even on the outside of the gates the grounds were freshly mown in little crosshatching patterns for as far as Hayden could see. He assumed they were farther south than Calypso, since the frost didn’t seem to have hit the area yet, though the grass was nearly all dead.

The other main difference was the number of people here. Whereas Hayden and Magdalene had been the only ones at the Frost estate when he was last there, the Trout estate almost seemed like a small town. Gardeners were bent down, working around the entrance to the gates even though there were no flowers growing during the winter, someone was sweeping dust and dirt from the lane they were walking on, and a man stood on either side of the gates to greet them. At the house itself he could see window-washers at their work and people bustling around with no discernible purpose at all.

“Lady Trout, welcome home,” the man on their side of the gate greeted them, throwing a latch to release his side of the lock and catching the attention of his colleague on the other end, who did the same. Hayden noted that both of these men were dressed better than he was.

“Thank you,” she nodded to them and continued through the gates with Hayden in tow, still staring around with interest.

Inside the gate he felt suddenly warm, a sure sign that the same kind of climate-controlling magic that was in effect at Mizzenwald all year was being used here as well. Shedding his coat and carrying it over one arm, he continued to scan his surroundings.

The grass here was still very green, though it had also been mown into those neat little diamond shapes, and a winding trail of large stones led off to a small park to his left; he glimpsed a few stone benches amongst the winding paths, flowers, and trees that mostly obscured his view of it. The other side of the front lawn looked like it was set up to host parties: long tables ran in parallel, with enormous fire pits for grilling and a granite serving table in the shape of a large ‘L’ along one end. Canopies of silk and taffeta in red and blue hung over the tables on poles to shelter guests from the sun while they ate. Hayden could imagine that some pretty awesome parties had probably been thrown here.

The center of the lawn was given over to statuary and fountains, and as Hayden walked past them he admired the different renderings in stone: mages and warriors, even monsters like hydras and wargs were posed convincingly around the area, staged as though engaged in epic battle.

“Nice statues,” he spoke into the silence. “I’ve always liked sculptures.”

Mrs. Trout favored him with a tilt of the head and a slowed her pace slightly as they approached the front doors, which were opened for them by a doorman who was wearing a red uniform.

Hayden was suddenly brought back to the conversation he’d had with Magdalene at the Frost estate last year, when he had marveled at the thought of paying someone to do nothing but open the front door, and how she had explained that it was all part of the game of flaunting your wealth to other rich people.

“Nice doorman,” he said mildly, wondering if she would remember their conversation.

She actually turned to look at him then, gracing him with a smirk that let him know she remembered their last meeting quite well.

Hayden had been expecting to enter a foyer, and was rather surprised when they stepped into an enormous hallway with twenty-foot ceilings and white marble floors. The space was large enough to allow for couches to be placed on either side at strategic intervals, and still allow room for four or five people to walk side-by-side without running into each other. Portraits lined the walls on both sides—likely of the Trout ancestors—and housekeepers casually walked in and out of rooms attached to the main corridor as they went about their work.