Page 50 of An Arcane Education
I survey the space, noting the students clustered on the black velvet furniture in the center, all leaning forward and deep in conversation. Others stand in groups, sipping their drinks and chatting casually.
However, I realize I don’t know anyone here. I glance over at Max and shrug, and she returns the gesture.
The tightness in my chest loosens when Callista enters the room. She scans the party slowly before her gaze lands on me, and her eyes light up as she smiles and makes her way toward us. She’s wearing a floor-length maroon dress that covers every inch of her skin below the neck, but the form-fitting fabric causes it to border the line between elegant and suggestive. The outfit is accentuated by gold jewelry—teardrop earrings, a long, layered necklace, and a thin bracelet.
“Vivian! I’m so glad you came. And you must be Max,” she says, turning toward her. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”
“You too,” Max says. “Thanks for the invite.”
“Of course, of course.” She waves her hands dismissively, as if the thought of not inviting her is absolutely preposterous.
Callista loops her arm through mine and guides us deeper into the suite, introducing us to various students and gracefully navigating the party with effortless ease. I tune in to the conversations around us, fascinated by the variety of topics and the deep intellectualism that the atmosphere seems to encourage.
One group examines a floating orb of light that someone has produced via magic, discussing how long the light will last if the spell uses the ablative versus durative case. There’s another group engaged in spirited debate about the ethical implications of consensually wiping one’s memory in circumstances related to traumatic experiences.
One thing is for certain: this is nothing like last weekend’s party. While last Saturday was what I assume to be afairly standard college rager, tonight’s party carries an exclusive, upscale, intellectual appeal.
When a server passes by offering a tray of drinks, I reach for one then ask, “What is it?”
“The closest thing you’ll ever get to ambrosia,” he says with a mischievous smile.
Max rolls her eyes as she snatches one. “It’s Fae wine.”
I tentatively accept a glass, the liquid inside such a deep crimson that it’s almost purple. Callista takes one as well, then raises her glass to the two of us. “Cheers! To friendship.”
We clink glasses and all take a sip. The wine is rich and sweet and tastes of blackberries, and I even catch a hint of a smile on Max’s face just before she raises it to her lips.
Max looks over at me. “Have you ever had Fae wine before?”
I shake my head.
“Be very careful, then. It’s incredibly strong to humans, especially if you’ve never had it before. Callista—” she turns “—how much are you usually able to have before it becomes a problem?”
“Depends on what you consider a problem,” Callista says with a wink, then answers honestly. “I usually have three or four glasses on a party night. It’s enough to get me feeling good, but not so much that I black out. I’m a siren, though, so my tolerance is already higher than normal,” she adds, as if that’s totally normal information.
To Max, it apparently is, because she simply nods. “Got it.” Then, turning to face me, adds, “I also don’tnormally have more than two or three glasses, so use that information how you will.”
Two sips in, there’s already a pleasant warmth blooming in my chest. Max and Callista are making friendly conversation about their favorite magical drink infusions, and I sit back, content to listen.
Watching Callista, I find myself drawn in by her magnetic energy, and it suddenly makes sense that she’s a siren. It’s another thing I’ve only heard about in human folklore, but from what I remember, sirens were temptresses, mesmerizing men with their beautiful song. I vaguely recall that Greek mythology had described them as half-bird, but with Callista, the whole beauty-and-temptation thing seems to be more on par. It explains her allure, her beauty, and her ability to be so persuasive.
We move deeper into one of the rooms to take some seats that have just opened up on the far wall. They sit directly beside the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the churning sea, and the glass panes rattle gently from the wind.
I maintain a careful watch on Max, searching her expression for any signs of discomfort, but she seems content and at ease. She and Callista are still deep in a conversation that I don’t quite understand, so I stand and tell them, “I’m going to do a lap to see if I know anyone here.”
The collective calm revelry of the evening is intoxicating as I weave my way through the rooms, and my pleasant buzz from the wine only intensifies the sensation. My eyes track across every face in the main room, and the only one I recognize is the man from the party last weekwith white-blonde hair, sharp features, and an air of pretentious sophistication. Victor, I think his name was. He’s the one who tried to freak me out with stories about disappearing students. He’s standing there with a group of four others, and it looks like he’s holding court rather than participating in a conversation.
I make my way down the hall toward one of the back rooms, and I almost collide with someone who’s turning the corner from the opposite direction.
I’m met with a stare of equal parts annoyance and disdain. “Why areyouhere?”
“Hi, Clarissa, lovely to see you too.” My voice is saccharine sweet, which only serves to anger her further. “I was invited, actually, just like you.” I exaggerate the last three words, my meaning clear: she’s not as superior as she thinks she is. Sure, she might be richer, more academically successful, and more experienced with magic, but here we are at the same party, rubbing elbows with the same important people.
And even though she may be more accomplished than me in… well, pretty much everything, I at least have the good sense to not be miserable about it. It must be difficult having everything you could ever want and still being so bitter.
“Look, I’m gonna level with you here,” I say in a more serious tone. “I don’t really understand why you don’t like me. I never tried to steal your boyfriend and have no interest in him, and I think you know that. I’m not sure if I unknowingly broke some unspoken social rule, but all I want is to do decently well in my classes, make friends, and gain control over my magic, becauseit’s a beautiful, incredible thing that I’ve only just discovered. That’s it.”
“Well, you go right ahead and enjoy your cute little exploration of magic. Some of us are actually trying to be successful and don’t have time for frivolity.”
