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“Well, good. Nice when I can be useful,” Bear said, with what was almost a smile. Clearly, the fact that he had helped Mags had made him feel better.

“So,” Mags ventured, as they left the Infirmary wing where the stillroom was, and faced the heat and full sun again. He squinted against it. “Ye wanta talk ’bout it?”

Bear sighed, and his shoulders sagged. “Nothin’ much to say. You know this’s been brewing for a good long time. Father’s spy—his name is Cubern, by the way—is one of the Guard Healers, so I had no idea he was around; he was able to find out everything he wanted to know about what I was doing just by socializing with the teachers at the Collegium. He knew I wasn’t planning to go home at Midsummer, even though most people do if they don’t live too far from here. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to avoid going home at Midwinter.

“I know now that even though I never told them about the Event because I knew what would happen, they found out about it anyway thanks to Cubern. I suppose they got it in their head I was doing the healing kits in secret, without the by-your-leave of the Collegium and the Healers’ Circle.” He shook his head. “Deluded. That’s all I can figure. They are so damn sure that they are right and everyone else is wrong that I suppose they thought once they ‘exposed’ me and showed the Collegium how dangerous my ‘stupid notions’ are, everyone would be horrified and wouldn’t be able to get rid of me fast enough. Came riding up here figuring to drag me home for certain this time. Found out ’bout what I was doing at the Event when they showed up.”

“Erm... I saw thet.” Mags confessed. “Yer brother, I reckon. Thought ’e was gonna fall down inna fit there an’ then. Dallen scared up some folks ter innercep’ ’im afore ’e made a pother.”

“Did he?” Bear looked interested—and grateful. “Well, I guess I owe Dallen a pocket pie. Yesterday was a real good day, and nothing they said to me today is going to change that.”

Mags patted him on the shoulder, awkwardly. “Reckon Healers woulda kep’ ’em away from ye, iffen they coulda. Reckon they tried t’talk some sense into ’em too, since they had ’em all yestiday an’ last night. So Healers’ on yer side, aye?”

“I know.” Bear swallowed. “Parents still have rights. It’s not as if they beat me or anything. They just think I’m—” He waved his hands, helplessly. “They can’t see that anything I do is worth a fraction of what they call a ‘real’ Healer’s work. Before I walked into that, the Dean had a long chat with me. Everyone tried to talk ’em around, but they just were not gonna listen, not to anyone, not even to the Dean. I guess m’father tried to—” He shook his head. “M’father has an exaggerated idea of his own importance. All right, our House of Healing is one of the oldest in the whole Kingdom, but that doesn’t make him any more important than any other senior Healer. He just doesn’t see it that way. The King’s Edict, though... there was nothing he could say or do after that and nothing he can do to alter it. I don’t think even he is stupid enough to try to claim that I somehow hoodwinked the King.” He winced a little. “I’ve never seen him so mad. I thought he was gonna explode.”

“Well... now yer safe,” Mags said into the silence, as they both stood in the doorway of Heralds’ Collegium. He sighed a little with relief to be out of the sun. “I mean, safe, they cain’t drag ye outa here fer no reason. I don’ mean I think they’d beat ye or nothin’.” Not with fists or sticks, mebbe, but words... But he didn’t say that out loud.

Bear scratched the back of his head.

“Reckon so,” he finally said, sounding a little relieved but a lot bitter. “Probably be told I’m disowned as soon as he can find someone to bring the message here, but, aye, safe.”

Mags looked at him askance. “Weren’t yer doin’ th’ King reckoned ye was needed ’ere.”

“You will never convince him of that,” Bear replied sourly. “He’ll find a way to blame me for it. Ever since he figured out that I wasn’t going to spontaneously bloom a Healing Gift, he’s been sure it was somehow all my fault.”

“That’s daft,” Mags said flatly.

“Course it’s daft, and he should know better. He does know better.” Bear’s tone had gone from bitter to exasperated. “He’s a really, really good Healer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fail. But to him, I’m a failure.”

“But—”

“All my life, everything he has wanted to happen, has happened. Until me.” Bear shrugged. “And now he has to go home and tell Alise or Avise or whatever her name is that I am not going to marry her. Or, more likely, tell her parents. He’s gonna have to come up with some sort of excuse or reason. Another failure, this time because he couldn’t control me and make me do what he wanted, and that’ll make him look bad in front of everyone he told that I was gonna come home and get married. He’s gonna hate that.”

“Mebbe Alise’ll be happy, though, if she don’ know ye thet well.” It was all Mags could think of to say. “Could be yer gonna make a lady real happy. Fer all ye know, she got some’un she’s sweet on already, an’ this’ll leave ’er a way t’wangle thins.”

He understood very well what poor Bear was dealing with. The Pieters boys had gotten the same sort of treatment from their father. He expected them to be copies of himself, obedient little copies that would do everything he told them to do without a murmur.

“Maybe.” Bear finally stood up and straightened his back. “Let’s get some nuncheon.”

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As Mags had expected, there was a new class schedule waiting for him in his room when he returned from eating. It wasn’t at all bad, actually. Weaponry practice every day at the end of the day, although it would be a much shortened version of the class and would include no riding. Three days a week, classes specific to being a Herald—on this schedule, property law, criminal law, and surveying. Three days a week, classes common to all three Collegia—history, math, geography. Seven-day off, except that Mags knew very well that Seven-day was likely to be spent trying to catch up with things he’d miss because Nikolas needed him and he’d skipped a class or two.

Still.

He grabbed what he would need for his afternoon classes and made his way over to Bardic, which was where the history class was going to be taught.

It came as a pleasant surprise to discover that the class was going to cover the reign of King Bedwyn, which just happened to be a period he knew something about. He’d come across a book about that time that was written so well he’d borrowed it and read it for pleasure—the dog-eared state of the book had given mute evidence that he was not the only person to have felt that way. Math he had never had much difficulty with, and although geography was a new subject for him, it was just memorization. He could do that while he was down in Haven at night.

He went to weaponry practice feeling that he just might manage to survive this summer in a relatively sane condition.

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That feeling of confidence vanished the moment he stepped into his room and found Nikolas waiting.

The sounds of the crickets outside coming through the open windows seemed suddenly as loud as shouts.