Paladin

His Ability Was To Heal

"The Champion Academy is no place for violence." The headmistress was knee-deep in cleaning the Montrose's mess when she was called to the library to find the Crown Prince of Paladin and Illyria Montrose brawling with one another. "What were you thinking?"

Aitor and Illyria didn't speak; neither of them thought they were in the wrong.

"Both of you will be cleaning the mess you made, everyday after school ends and until the library staff are satisfied with the progress made-"

"I have my private lessons with Mr Callahan-"

"I have training-"

"-do you both understand?" Ms Baten finished, quelling their protests with a singular look and they both nodded in assent. "Good. Now leave now."

They stood up, gathering their things and Illyria was stopped short. "Not you. Sit back down."

Aitor smirked and Illyria glared at him as he left.

"The first day has barely ended and you got into a physical fight with the Crown Prince-"

"You didn't tell me John Callahan would be teaching me how to control my Telekinesis. Actually, you didn't even tell me he was here. Does Baba know?"

"I didn't think it would be important-"

"Not important." Illyria chuckled humorously, "I don't belong here but I'm dealing with the circumstances as best as I can. I suggest you do the same."

***

"So, are you truly from the human world?" Mr. Callahan questioned Illyria in their private ability lesson.

Illyria paused in her useless task of attempting to levitate a book and raised an eyebrow, "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, yes," he admitted, continuing to be skeptical. "No one in Paragon's history has come from the human world, born from human parents with abilities. Plus, the first-ever telekinetic in history. It's pretty...incredible."

"Thanks," Illyria cleared her throat. "Now can we get back to the lesson? I'm not going to learn how to control my powers by myself."

"Of course. Start again."

***

Friday night dinners were a tradition and had been since the Montrose's first emigrated from France and Illyria's grandfather had married the Duchess although he had stopped attending long ago himself but that's a story for another time. Six years later and Illyria still loathed Friday dinners with every pore in her being.

Baba cleared her throat, "Now Duchess Montrose we have two announcements to make today. Illyria why don't you- "

"If you're talking about The London Academy then I already know. Thank you, Illyria, for putting shame upon the Montrose name time and time again," Grandmere said callously.

"It was a pleasure. Truly," Illyria smiled sweetly back at her, "You're welcome Grandmere and don't worry there will be many other occasions for me to tarnish your colonising heritage."

Illyria could have sworn she saw steam come out of her ears just then, "You little brat- "

Sofia brought her hands to her ears and closed her eyes so hard; something she was instructed to do by her parents when Illyria and Duchess Montrose got into it. This was one of those times.

"That's enough," Umma said sternly, "Yes, Illyria is now attending The Champion Academy."

Sofia opened her eyes and then slowly took her hands away from her face.

Grandmere took a sip of her wine, "Is that so? I'm surprised they would even want her."

Illyria clenched her glass so hard that her knuckles turned white. Just remember Illyria, that you're not biologically related to her.

"Well they do, and I've been going since Monday," Illyria smiled so hard that her cheeks hurt, "It's only been a week and I'm having so much fun. It's so much better than the London Academy."

The truth was far from it but who was going to factcheck?

Nobody said anything to that but Grandmere stared with her beady eyes and Illyria tried not to drift into the depths of her eyes, "Alasdair said that you are no longer associated with those people...because they were...after you." Finally, she turned to stare at Illyria's father for an explanation, shifting the atmosphere and Illyria slumped in her chair, relieved.

"We had no choice. She's on their radar now and if we leave again...it'll just seem more suspicious," Baba massaged his head with his free hand, his other hand on top of his wife's, "You still talk to him?"

"Of course. He is my husband," Grandmere said sharply, frowning at him.

"I-yes-," Baba stammered, "Of course."

Grandmere cut in impatiently, "And the second thing?"

Baba blinked at the abrupt change in topic; it was hard to keep up with the Duchess sometimes. Illyria just sipped on her cola.

Umma put her fork down and cleared her throat, nervous and excited, "I'm pregnant."

Illyria sprayed cola all over herself and the dinner table and patted the air to signify that she was all right even though her nose and throat was burning. Sofia smiled proudly; her brown eyes twinkled as if she knew all along (she probably did). Baba interlocked his fingers with Umma, giving her an excited smile with love in his eyes.

Illyria stamped her feelings down.

France was six years ago, after all. Sofia bounded over to them, her ponytail bobbed up and down with her smile wide and hugged them; her little arms barely went around their necks, but they bent down to appease her. Illyria remained rooted to her seat.

"I hope it's a girl," Illyria managed, " How far along are you Umma?"

Christopher stared at his daughter curiously, "Your mother just passed her first trimester. That's why we thought it'd be okay to tell you all now. As for the gender, your mother doesn't wish to know so we have to respect that, mon ange."

Umma brought a piece of paper out of her clutch and passed it to her eldest daughter, smiling warmly, "Here's the ultrasound, ya helo."

Illyria looked at the card, her fingers drifted over the black and white picture; her honey eyes focused on the white blob that was barely there and then it was snatched out of her hands, "Hey-Sof! I wasn't finished looking."

"You were taking too long!" She defended herself, held it in her tiny hands and squinted at the little card.

Umma begins to scold Sofia about waiting her turn and Baba tells Umma to lighten up only to have Umma go off at him. But neither of them was truly angry with one another; they never were. Duchess Montrose begins to monologue about how she'll have better luck with the third kid becoming the heir to the Montrose company. Illyria's hand clenched around the rim of her glass and plastered a smile on for everyone's benefit.