The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) (11 page)

Pard’s eyes widen as he gives Miles a dirty look.

Miles shrugs.

A draft of wind barrels through the passageway sweeping a cloud of dust over Pard.

Pard’s body lurches taking in the air.

Miles sees Pard’s face contort, and he slaps his hand over Pard’s mouth and nose.

“
Achoo
,” Pard lets out a muffled sneeze.

Yitch jerks to a stop and slowly turns. “Did you hear that, Maximus?”

Maximus growls.

Miles gulps.

Pard’s body tenses, about to let out another sneeze.

Miles presses his palm even tighter over Pard’s mouth and nose.

Yitch stares at the stone wall for a few seconds. “
Humph
, let’s go, Maximus, back to bed.”

Pard’s eyes drift and his body sways from the lack of oxygen.

Miles whispers, “You good?”

Pard nods, whether he’s good or not he doesn’t know or care, but he does know he needs to breathe or he’ll pass out in another few seconds.

Miles slowly removes his hand.
 

They make their way through the dark corridor and away from Yitch’s office.
 

Pard moves faster well ahead of Miles, not wanting to risk another sneeze. After a few minutes, he reaches the end of the corridor and rubs his dirty forehead as he waits for Miles to catch up to him. Miles’s flickering torch grows brighter, and Pard angles his gaze away to not be blinded and ruin his night vision.

“
Ha
, that was close,” Miles says, passing by Pard. “I can’t believe that little monster bit me.”

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught, that was too close,” Pard says.

Miles dismissively waves his hand. “Oh don’t exaggerate, professor. It wasn’t that close.”

“
Seriously
? Not that close, what do you consider close then, actually getting caught?”

Miles ignores him, Pard’s words going in one ear and out the other. “Come on, let’s get back to my room, we can try again some other day.”

INSIDE INFORMATION

Two days pass, and after many tries, Pard and Miles still have no luck entering Yitch’s office, so they give up for the time being. That night, after dinner, Miles lies on his stomach on Pard’s bed and peeks up from his mathematics textbook. “Man my neck is so sore, Gor really did a number on it in hand to hand earlier with one of his chokeholds. And my arm is floppy from sword training. I tell you what, master-at-arms Lord Plirsy is relentless, that fat-bellied swine of an old soldier can hardly move, but damn, when he wants he can surely lay the iron down hard and put any Fairstone boy on his butt if he pisses him off, even Gor. Hey, how come you don’t take any arms training? I would think that would fit right in with all of that military history you’re always reading.”
 

“Swinging of swords and fists is not strategy or history,” Pard says. “And the exertion makes me winded. There’s better use of my time then learning how to pummel someone with my fists, or get pummeled.”
 

Miles points at Pard with nose still in his history book. “Ask those generals you’re always reading about if swinging of swords and fists didn’t matter. I bet they would have a surprising answer for you.”

“Overrated,” Pard says.
 

Miles chuckles. “So not for harpastum and vigorous activity and bonding with your peers through sport and frivolity, and now not for sword play and the warrior arts. I must say, Pard Wenerly, I’m not sure how much we have in common.”

“Look, if my father was a lord or a commander or some other inclined professional or it was a family tradition that demanded it, or maybe if I was going to be a general like you might be someday, being a lord of the North, then I would take more interest in the pummeling lessons, as such, I am not, so I have better places to be and knowledge to learn with my time, and I’ll leave the pummeling to the lords and the other inclined. I’ll just read and write and teach about your pummeling pursuits.”

Miles shakes his head. “Then why do you care or study this rubbish so hard? Especially knowing you might not even be at the school in a few weeks. I would say screw it and cause a bunch of mayhem. Maybe even give Yitch an electrical touch if you catch my drift.”
 

Pard rolls his eyes while still keeping his head buried in his history book. He scans the text with his finger, trying to give his best impression he isn’t worried about being kicked out of school. “I’m not kicked out yet, and I guess it’s what I’ve always done, it’s my escape, it keeps my mind off everything.” Though he thinks Miles does have a point, and over the last hour Pard dwelled on just that, and as a result he’s only retained a third of what he’s reading, and has had to reread the last two pages three times.

Miles crumples a piece of paper and whips it at Pard, striking him on the top of his mop-like hair. “Like staring at Selby Barrow in the library?”

Pard gives Miles a death glare.

“
So serious
, professor. Please, please, oh no! Don’t zap me.”

“Shut up,” Pard says, shaking his head and going back to reading the Iinian Agreement of 722.

“Seriously, though, the dance is coming up in a few weeks—are you going to ask her?”

Pard snorts. “What do you think?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I think you should ask her, or I wouldn’t be asking you.”

Pard sits up and slams his book shut. “After what happened in the library the other day? No way will she ever go with me, or even talk to me for that matter. I made a complete mess of myself.”

“So what. Guys make messes of themselves all the time. Girls are used to it. You should ask her to the dance.”

“
Umm
, didn’t you hear me? Because I made an idiot of myself, and she probably hates me.”

Miles chuckles. “
Hate you
? Hey, professor, a little inside information here, we all make idiots of ourselves. It’s what we do best, sometimes the more the idiot the better. Just look at me.”

Pard scans Miles’s smug but lovable face. “True, maybe you have something there. But still, I’m not a lord, or, well, you. I’m me.”

“Can’t argue with you on that point, but still, you have a lot of great qualities she might like, you just have to show her.”

Pard rolls his eyes. “Like being unable to talk to girls, getting into trouble, about to be kicked out of school, making a complete fool of myself, and of course the extra special bonus of shooting light out of my body, being able to talk to horses, and do whatever I did to poor Nero the cat.
Yeah
,
right
, I’m sure she’ll be real impressed with my abilities, then she’ll fetch the town’s constables on me, and they’ll lock me away for being a dangerous, wacko, menace, and Fairstone and the dance and Selby Barrow will be the least of my worries.”

“Dang, professor, catastrophize much there?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Miles shrugs. “Well, if it’s any consolation, the horse and light thing impressed me.”

Pard gives Miles a blank stare. “And because you’re a complete weirdo and think the light is cool, Selby Barrow will be impressed.” Pard snorts. “Right.” Pard lowers his head into his hands and mumbles incoherent words.

“No—but still.” Miles rolls off the bed and lands gracefully on his feet. His face beams with energy. “Come on, let’s go.”

Pard looks up, and his eyes narrow. “
What
? Go where?”

Miles snatches Pard’s cloak off the post in the corner of the room and tosses it on Pard’s head. “Get dressed, let’s go.”

Pard fumbles the cloak stuck on the top of his head as it gets tangled from him trying to remove it too fast.
 

Miles, serious and now the teacher, examines what he has to work with. He stares at Pard. “Playing the klutzy, goofy card, eh? It might work with her. But I would use a different strategy if I were you. Though you never know with those girls who always hang out in the library.”

Pard springs out of his chair and flaps his arms trying to get his knotted cloak off his head and shoulders. Pard finally rips off his bindings and stands in front of Miles, red face, out of breath, and hair twisted and sticking up in every direction except for how it’s supposed to lay. “Don’t play about. We aren’t going to the library right now—it’s too late.” He glances at his rickety old wooden clock on his desk. “It’s already eight.”

“Yeah, so what.” Miles flicks his head toward the door. “You need a date to the dance, don’t you?”

“The dance is three weeks after my expulsion. What if I get kicked out? Then I can’t go to the dance.”

“But what if she says yes?”

“But I’d be kicked out, what would she think of me?”

“But what if she says yes?”

“But—”

“Oh my gosh, will you shut up. Let’s worry about her saying yes before all the other crap.”

“But—”

Miles unleashes his best devilish smile and creeps closer to Pard. And as if trying to tame a skittish animal, he gently slips the cloak out of Pard’s hands, opens it, and swings it over Pard’s head and shoulders. He talks in a soft, sweet voice, whispering calmly in Pard’s ear, “Get girl first, worry about the other stuff that may or may not happen later.”

As if a lost puppy dog, Pard gazes up at Miles. “But we have to study—”

Miles gently tugs the cloak over Pard’s shoulders then slides behind him. “Lucky for us the girl is always at the library, we can study there.”

“Yes, but—”

Miles nudges Pard toward the door, and Pard’s feet inch forward. “What if she says yes?”

“Then what do I say to her?” Pard says.

Miles opens the door and coaxes Pard into the hall then softly clicks the door shut, trying not to spook the easily startled beast. “First you say, ‘hi, I noticed you in here the last few times I was here,’ and then, lucky for us, you’ve probably read every book in the library—so you see what she is reading and say, ‘hey, I’ve read that book too, what do you think about it?’ She’ll probably start yapping away, blah, blah, blah, and then you nod attentively and give her the most genuine smile you can muster. Let her talk her little heart out, and you patiently listen, focus on her lips. And this next part is really important, so pay attention, when she’s done, agree with her.”

Confused, Pard tilts his head to the side, and he glances at Miles as they continue to walk through the castle. “But what if I don’t agree with her?”

“No, you’re not listening, just agree with her—don’t argue with her—that comes later.”

“But, that would be lying.”

Miles rolls his eyes. “Let’s assume you agree with her. If you don’t agree with her, agree with her anyway.”

Pard, still not following along, scratches the side of his head. “So agree with her anyway?”

Miles slaps Pard on the back and the jolt thrusts Pard forward. “Now you’re getting it, good. Now you’re in. So next, look at her somewhat serious-like, as if you’re in deep thought, and then you say in a genuine tone, ‘I never thought of it that way,’ appeal to her intellect, compliment her, they like that, make her think she impressed you, and then you’ll impress her, see?”

“
Umm
—even if I did think of that?”

“Yes, play dumb, remember, she is always smarter than you.”

“Even if she isn’t?”

“Yes.”

Pard looks at his boots and scratches his head again as the words sink in. They slip out the west wing’s double oak doors and enter the courtyard.

“Got it?” Miles says.

“I guess so, so basically I say ‘hi’, then smile, then ask her a question, then lie, play dumb, and compliment her.”

“Something like that, of course maybe she really will impress you and is smarter than you. But considering we
are
talking about you here, I am just preparing you in case she isn’t or you disagree with her.”

“All right, then what?”

“Then you look at her lips for a second then move up to her eyes, though not in an intimidating or creepy way, give her little playful glances, genuine and enough to let her know you like her and are interested, but not too much to make her think you’re needy or easy. Then smile as if you’ve been enlightened by her presence and brilliance, but again, not in a weird or needy way. At this point, if you’re nervous and can’t smile, I would focus on her beauty, slowly trace the outline of her face so you’re not looking at one spot too long but are still looking at her; the smile you give to her should still have the same effect since she’s probably interested in you by now, you know?”

Pard nods. “
Umm
—okay.”

“Then say, ‘my name is Pard, what’s your name?’ If you’ve made it this far and she’s showing you anything close to resembling a genuine smile, she’ll give you her name, then address her by her name.”

Miles pats Pard on the back. “Now, there are three routes going forward, the good looks route,
my route
, and the brain or funny route,
your route.
Not to say you’re not good-looking, you’re just not me.”

“All right, so what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your route is a little trickier than mine at first, unless she thinks you’re good-looking anyway, then whatever you say going forward doesn’t matter, unless you’re really off the wall offensive and weird, and I would advise against killing any cats at this point until she knows you better.”

Pard snorts. “
Obviously
.”

“So, here is where I would go straight ahead and ask her to meet up in a few days to study or discuss books or whatever. I would give her one last smile and say it was great to meet her and I would love to stay and discuss her book more but I have to go. You know, leave her first and keep her wondering a little. Then the next time I saw her I would ask her to the dance. But the key is confidence, even if you don’t have it, you can still play the part, and always remember, she may be smarter than you—” Miles tilts his head toward Pard and looks him in the eyes, “even though she’s not—but she isn’t better than you. Don’t ever make her think she’s better or you’re done for. And last, you want to leave her with the impression that her life would be better with you in it somehow, though you don’t need her.”

“But what if you haven’t read any of the books she’s read?”