An abandoned boy, a grieving prince, and a reclusive sorcerer find themselves caught in a web of peril and mystery...
Domi, a young thief abandoned on the street at birth, just wants to save his dying foster mother. But first, he must survive the m...
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The golden marble streets were still slick with the post-Brightening Rain when Domi left for salutatio the next morning.
He found himself smiling as he crossed the circular common around which the three alumna dormitories sat. Valens had sent a lifeholder—Arbita, it turned out—to treat Domi's ma yesterday afternoon. By the time Domi had arrived home that eve, Radix had received a message from Merula.
Domi's ma had made arrangements with Arbita to speak with Valens and visit Domi. She would arrive at the Collegium today, now as an honored guest—well, a guest anyway—and not the dangerous force of nature she so often could be.
At least, he hoped so. Radix seemed optimistic after Merula accepted the first batch of snatched medicines with a grunt and not an unholy fit. Perhaps this would work.
Whispers drew him out of his thoughts. Three of the older conservatory students sat under a small pavilion, leaning together over a table. They sipped coffee, something Merula never let him try. Valens hadn't let him learn to make the beverage yesterday, either. "If you're tired, get more sleep," the aedificans had said, and that was that.
Domi had noticed these Promethidae students every day so far, but they had ignored him but for curious glances, and he returned the favor. The idea of talking to other Promethidae youths set him on edge. He was not one of them and didn't understand enough about their lives yet to even try to fit in. They would realize he was a Pullatus before he so much as opened his mouth.
He hoped to avoid them today as well, but it was not to be. As soon as he glanced their way, the whispers stopped, and one of them called, "Hey! New kid!"
Domi grimaced. There were not too many other people the boy could be addressing. He squared his shoulders and summoned all the swagger of the Reges Heres Pullati. "Hello, friends," he said, striding toward them.
They sat up a little straighter and eyed him with curiosity. Domi did not spot a single amicable face in the bunch, but neither did they strike him as hostile.
The boy who had addressed him leaned back, resting his elbows on the table behind him and crossing his feet at the ankles. He wore his curly black hair shorn close to his scalp, and a vibrant green laurel glowed at his throat. Silvula Salutis curia counted scores of lifeholders among their numbers. Way back before some historical Rex granted Praetors Imperium—and, with the right to rule, provincias to govern—a group of lifeholders founded the curia.
"So," the lifeholder went on, "we've been wondering..."
"You've got questions, I've got answers." At least, Domi hoped he would know how to answer, and that his answers wouldn't embarrass him.
His quip earned him a thin smile. "You're new to the curia. Did your family marry into Silvula Salutis, or..." The lifeholder tilted his head, glancing at Domi's throat and away.
