The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) (7 page)

Pard clinches his teeth, and Nox, condescending, tilts his head to the side, smiles, and waves at him.
How the heck did this idiot get into advanced mathematics anyway?
Pard turns away, lowers his head, and writes his essay.
 

A couple hours later, class lets out and Pard makes straight for the sanctuary of his room on the fourth floor. But as he reaches the spiral marble staircase rising from the main foyer up to the upper floors, Miles jumps in front of Pard to block his path.

“Hey,” Miles says.

“Hey what?” Pard says, still climbing the stairs and attempting to slide by Miles.

“I need your help with something.”

“What kind of something?”

“Advanced mathematics.”

“What about it?”

“I need you to tutor me.”

“No.”

“Hey, come on now, why not?” Miles says, continuing to step up the stairs backward and matching every move Pard makes side to side, and still keeping his body in front of Pard.

Pard corrals his stack of books into one arm and swats at Miles with the other. “Because I can’t. Now move.”

“Is this about the electric light and the cat? Because I was just kidding with you. Actually, I think it’s kinda cool.”

“No, and it’s not
cool
.”

Miles opens his arms. “Then what is it? Come on, I need your help, professor, you’re like the smartest student in this whole school.”

“Find someone else to tutor you. I’m not interested.”

“But I want you.” Miles sticks his arm out and stiff arms Pard in his shoulder to stop him. “You know who I am, right? Who my father is?”

“So what, am I supposed to be impressed?”

Surprised, Miles’s jaw drops, and he lowers his arm. “Well, yeah, sort of. Everyone else is impressed with my father.”

“Then have them tutor you, because I’m busy.” Pard nudges past Miles and ascends the stairs.

Miles, still in shock someone would blow him off, isn’t sure how to react. Then he shakes his head, snapping out of his amazement, and he races up the stairs after Pard. “Hey, wait up!”

Pard peeks back. “Forget about it, I said find a different tutor. I’m not interested.”

Miles grabs Pard’s shoulder and makes him stop again.
 

A group of boys laugh and joke as they skip down the stairs, then slow and go silent as they reach Pard.
 

Their eyes glare at Pard as if he’s diseased, and Miles let’s go of Pard’s shoulder and nods at the boys as they pass.

Gor, an imposing boy, towering above his comrades and with red hair making him even more striking, turns around and stares at Pard and then at Miles. “Marlow, the harpastum match is later after arms training, you in? We’re gonna practice on the north field after lunch if you’re interested.”

“I’ll be there.”

Gor gives Pard a quizzical look.

Miles shrugs and flicks his head toward Pard. “Advanced mathematics question.”

Gor nods, Miles’s explanation sufficient, he turns away and descends the rest of the stairs.

Pard seizes the opportunity of Miles’s distraction to escape.

Miles realizes Pard is fleeing and his athletic legs spring forward, propelling his body up the stairs after Pard. Free from a stack of heavy textbooks, it makes it easy for Miles to catch up. He lunges up the stairs two at a time until he is right next to Pard.

Pard glances to the side. “Don’t you ever give up?”

“No.” Miles gives Pard a cocky grin. “I am a lower lord of the North, and we don’t give up so easily.”

“Okay, lower lord of the North, I’m still not tutoring you. I don’t have time, besides, I may not even be at this school much longer the way things are going.”

“The whole Yitch and the cat thing?”

“
Yeah
, the cat thing.”

“Well, you didn’t do it, did you?”

Pard snaps to a stop and mockingly tilts his head to the side. “What do you think?”

Miles mimics Pard as he scans Pard’s face. “I’m still deciding, professor.”

Pard snorts and turns away.

Miles snaps forward and grips Pard’s robe at the neckline.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Pard jerks away.

“Hold still or it will rip.”

“Let go of me, Miles.”

Miles slips down the neckline exposing the black circular mark singed on Pard’s back. Miles immediately lets go of the fabric and backs away. His jaw drops and eyes widen. “No way, holy shit.”

Pard, startled, stumbles to the side and bounces off the marble bannister, almost falling over and dropping his stack of books. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Professor, you’re a seeros.”

“
A what
?”

“A seeros.
Ha
, you’ve got to be joking. The smartest kid in this whole school and I know something you don’t,
nice
.” Pleased with himself, Miles rubs his chest with his knuckles.

Pard adjusts his books and again ascends the stairs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of any seeros.”

Miles follows Pard. “Dang, so you really fried Yitch’s cat, bummer.”

Pard sneers at Miles. “If you’re so sure, then what makes you think I won’t fry
you
?”

Miles stutter steps as Pard’s words hit him. “
Umm
—” He shakes it off and races up the stairs.

Pard reaches the fourth floor and makes a sharp left turn down the corridor leading to his room.

“
Humph
,” Miles says, striding with head held high, “so this is what the servant’s floor looks like. I’ve never been up here.”

Pard doesn’t look or respond to Miles.

Miles jumps in front of Pard and strides backward. He tilts his head to the side in an annoying way as if a toddler wanting to play and won’t leave you alone until he gets his way. “So what do you say, tutor me?”

Pard nudges by Miles as he reaches the end of the hallway. “I can’t leave my room except for class and dining hours.”

“And who made those rules?”

Pard slides his key into the lock. “Yitch.”

“So you obey Lord Yitch’s rules and be the nob. Here I thought you were one of the cool kids that didn’t give a lick what he thinks.”
 

“I don’t.”

“Then tutor me?”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Pard leans in, mocking Miles. “Well we need somewhere to go in the castle if I’m going to tutor you, lower lord of the North.”

Miles chuckles. “Tutor?
In the castle
? No way, I can’t let anyone know I’m getting tutored, and especially by you.”

Pard furrows his brow and opens his bedroom door. “And what’s wrong with me?”

Miles backs away. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong with you. But I still have a reputation to uphold and I can’t let people know I’m getting tutored, it’s embarrassing, I should just know this stuff. We have to leave the castle grounds—staying in Fairstone is too risky.”

“
What
, are you deaf? I just told you I can only be in my room or in class or in the dining hall, and tomorrow is the weekend, so basically I have to be in my room unless I eat. I already agreed to tutor you, which I don’t know how that happened, and now you want me to leave the castle? We can just study in my room.”

Miles scans Pard’s small room. “
Hmm
, I don’t know, no, no I don’t think so, kinda tiny, and chilly.” He tries a different strategy. “Hey, look, if you leave the castle, no one will see you in the castle, so that means you can be out and about normal as always.
See
? It works out for both of us.”

Pard squints in confusion as he tries to follow Miles’s logic. He gives up and steps through the doorway.

“Hey, so how about the Greysin Library?” Miles says, poking his head and half of his body into Pard’s room.

Pard twists his lips, and
no
is about to explode out of his mouth. Then he remembers who he saw the last time he was at the library in Greysin,
sweet
Selby Barrow
. His jaw relaxes and shoulders slump as he gazes across his room and out his small window.

“So what do you say?” Miles says.

Pard turns around and faces Miles, his hand still gripping the door tight. “When and where?”

Miles’s mouth curls into a satisfied grin, the kind only an unexpected victory can produce. “Tonight, after my harpastum match, at eight, meet me by the old man in the courtyard, wear black, be quiet, and make sure no one sees you. Hey, I never see you playing harpastum, tonight’s game is an open match, you want to come?”

Pard, not much for athletic pursuits, especially ones that require a high level of hand eye coordination catching a small ball while also avoiding getting pummeled to the ground repeatedly, cringes. “I think just tutoring tonight. The rest of the boys seem frightened that I will zap them.”

Miles jabs his finger into Pard’s chest. “
Ha
, that’s why you would make a brilliant teammate, we’ll just give you the ball and you can run straight toward the goalie and the opponent will move out of your way because they’ll be afraid you’ll zap them, we might even break a record for most points scored with you as our striker.”

Pard sneers, not liking the idea and looking down at Miles’s finger touching his chest.

Miles shrugs, reading Pard’s face, and he retracts his poking. “Yeah, you’re probably right, baby steps.” He grins. “Anyway, so tonight at eight.”

Pard raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment, not enthused, and he presses his palm on Miles’s forehead then shoves Miles back into the hallway as Pard shuts the door.

Miles gently taps the center of the door twice. “See you later, professor.”

EXTRACURRICULAR EXCURSION

Pard spends the rest of the day in his room waiting for his extracurricular excursion with Miles to arrive. He studies his mother’s book,
The Third Order Of The Rue, Magical Creatures
, searching for any sign of a seeros.

How the heck does Miles Marlow, lowest lord of the North, know something he doesn’t? “
I’m not sure he’s even read an entire book.”
Pard shakes his head in frustration as he continues to leaf through the leather pages:
Amarants, Klipinspears, Leshy, Libberlecks, Routs, Tikbas, something I can’t pronounce, Quibs, something else I can’t pronounce, Teetyworms.
He shuts the book and leans back in his chair. He rubs his sore eyes
. “
No seeros anywhere.” Pard glances at the clock,
seven-fifty
.

Pard groans and presses out of his chair. “Time to tutor the lord.” He strolls across the room, slips on a thick black sweater, sweeps his cloak over his shoulders, tugs down the hood, and he snatches up his advanced mathematics book and the
Third Order Of The Ru
e. Pard turns off his gas lantern and darts into the hallway. Remembering Miles’s words, Pard goes into stealth mode like any normal person would do inside a well-lit castle. Pard hunches over and hugs the wall, tilting his head down, and making himself look as suspicious as possible.

“Is that you, young sir?” Jasper the butler says, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.

Startled, Pard veers into the wall and awkwardly bounces off it as the lip of his cloak hood covers his eyes, obscuring his vision. Pard coughs twice as he gathers his words, and in a shady manner, still hunched over, he slightly tilts his head up toward Jasper, only one eye peering out from under his hood while the other one is still masked by the wool.

Jasper’s eyes narrow. “Young sir, is everything all right?”

Pard, his cover broken, brushes aside his hood and stands up straight. “Good evening, Jasper. How is your night going?”

Jasper nods. “Well enough I dare say. And where are you going this chilly evening?”

“
Umm—”

Jasper’s eyebrows rise looking at Pard’s books.

Pard glances down the hallway and sees a servant enter the male restroom. “Bathroom,” and he raises the books in his hands, “lots of reading to catch up on before terms.”

Confused, Jasper twists his lips as he scans Pard’s cloak, which appear as if Pard is dressed to take a walk in the cold.

Pard can feel Jasper’s thoughts, and he cuts the old servant off before anymore suspicion can arise in his head. Pard jerks his head away and coughs viciously, then lets out a sneeze that entirely doesn’t sound like a sneeze, but it’s the best he can pull off in a healthy state. Pard coughs again and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Sorry, Jasper, best stay well clear of me, I’m coming down with something nasty that sends a wicked chill through your body.”
 

“Oh no, I’m sorry—”

Pard gives a violent body convulsion. “Bathroom, excuse me, gotta go, can’t keep off the pot, already had an accident earlier.”

“Oh my, go, dear boy, go, and I hope you feel better.”

Pard waddle-skips away from the old butler. “Me too, Jasper, good night to you.”

“You too, young sir, I hope you feel better.” And Jasper slowly shakes his head in pity as he walks away.

Pard crashes into the bathroom door and peeks back down the hall. Jasper, well away now, and besides the old man is as blind as a bat anyway, Pard bounces off the bathroom door and sprints to the main marble staircase leading to the lower levels. And now that he has successfully formulated his cover story on why he’s out and about in the castle so late, Pard feels less fear, and will just say he needs tea from the kitchen for his sore throat or the bathroom was occupied on his floor and had to go to a different floor to use the toilet.

Pard sprints through the west wing and exits the double oak doors into the courtyard. A harsh wind and swirl of snow hits him, and he tilts his body sideways, making himself small. He leans forward and barrels through the winter wind.

“I was thinking you wussed out on me,” Miles says, slipping out from a shadow casting off the castle wall.

Pard looks up and eyes a tall statue of the stoic old man lecturing the courtyard which the stone is so weathered that many of his features no longer appear how the sculptor intended. Greenish and blacks splotches pepper the grey rock, and his clothes appear to be half-cloth and half-skin.

Miles slaps the old man on his butt. “You ready to go, professor?”

“Did you just slap Lord Fergus Fairstone on his butt, the founder of the finest school in all of Vetlinue?”