After the exhilaration of last night and a morning of studying, Magdala had hoped have lunch with Francesca and Mei, but the moment she stepped out of her morning class, Klaudia Drechsler handed Magdala a written invitation, and so instead of having lunch with her friends, Magdala was going to have lunch with the Water Sage.

  The last time she’d been in her mother’s office, Magdala’s “I love you” had been answered with motherly advice: “Whoever you take to the Ball, be mindful of what it tells the rest of society.” At the time, the words had confused Magdala. Later, at the Harvest ball, she’d actively disregarded them. Now, they disgusted her. Was it really that hard to tell your only daughter that you loved her?

  Stopping next to her mother’s dueling rapier, Magdala, for once, actually took it in, instead of imagining what she’d do to earn it. She’d never noticed before how the scratched silver guard, the patched leather sheath, the oft-replaced grip. According to Lady Pol, the rapier’s owner Iona Kalan, whom Magdala Gallus had never met, studied in magic isolated glades and had engaged in petty rivalries. Would that Iona have liked Magdala or would the inchoate Lady Gallus have dismissed her as a lost cause?

  “Every time.” The Water Sage Iona Gallus stepped through the waterfall curtain with two bowls of soup in her hands. “It’s only a sword.”

  “Mother.” In lieu of a curtsy, Magdala crossed her arms. “Why did you call me here?”

  Her mother walked by her. “We have to talk.”

  The Water Sage’s Office was furnished with two sofas that bracketed a low nujayny table, upon which Magdala’s mother placed the bowls of soup along with a pair of spoons. Then she sat down, back straight, eyes expectant, allowing the smell of leek soup to speak for her. When Magdala was little, leek soup had been the only thing she’d ever seen her mother cook although this wasn’t made by the hands of the Water Sage. They smelled too good.

  Relenting, Magdala sat down on the sofa opposite. “What do what we have to talk about? Dwayne and I are just friends, just like you wanted.”

  Her mother’s face tightened for just a moment. “You two made that decision together?”

  “He… We agreed this was best.” Magdala grabbed a bowl and escaped into the soup. That was a mistake because she nearly choked on how delicious it was. Definitely not her mother’s work.

  Her mother made no move to pick up her own bowl. “And last night?”

  Magdala shrugged. “Last night was Club work.”

  Her mother’s eyes drifted Magdala’s left arm, where a bandage was just visible under her sleeve.

  “I’m fine.” Magdala covered the bandage. “Someone tried to steal Dwayne’s License Key. I stopped them.”

  “I see.” Her mother carefully reached over and picked up her bowl of soup. “Your father and I were very worried.”

  Magdala scoffed. “Not half as worried as you were when you thought I was courting Dwayne?”

  Her mother very carefully swallowed a spoonful of soup before saying, “Your physical well-being is of more importance, but we…” She sighed. “Why did you kiss him?”

  The sudden memory flooded Magdala’s face with heat. “I-I just wanted to. It was a whim.”

  “A whim.” Her mother put her soup back down, her eyes aimed downward. “Magdala, it clearly wasn’t… Your father.” Her eyes flicked up to meet her daughter’s. “He wanted to confront you even after Dwayne…” She sighed again. “Magdala, I know what love looks like.”

  “What? This isn’t… I’m not…” Magdala sucked in a breath then blew it out. “It can’t be that because he doesn’t feel the same way. “We’re just friends, Mother.” That had to be true. “Nothing more.”

  Whatever Magdala had wanted to do with Dwayne’s lips, she’d keep it in her imagination. Then she looked over to her mother and nearly dropped her soup. Why was her mother smiling?

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  “I’m sure that will resolve itself in time.” Finally, Magdala’s mother picked up her soup and resumed eating. “No matter what happens, I promise to accept it.” She nodded to herself. “Just like I’ll accept that when my daughter sees a direct solution, she takes it.”

  Magdala bristled. The nerve of her. “Did you just call me a brute in fifteen words?”

  “Perhaps.” Her mother smirked. “It’s part of what I found endearing about your father.”

  “Oh, uh…” What was Magdala supposed to say to that? “Teasing me can’t be why you invited me to lunch.”

  “It has been a long time since I indulged, but you’re right.” Magdala’s mother took a deep breath. “I have a confession to make. I don’t know what to do with you.”

  Magdala raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and?”

  Her mother bristled. “Don’t be-” She stopped, sucked in another breath, then blew it out. “The last time we spoke here in this office, I accused you of failing to take the consequences of your actions into consideration. While that is still something you need to work on-”

  Magdala rolled her eyes. “Yes, but-”

  “-charging in has its benefits.”

  Magdala stared. “What?”

  Her mother smiled. “There are benefits to not letting worst-case scenario stop you from seeking the best result.”

  “But…” Magdala groped for words, then settled on: “I’m trying to do what you do?”

  Her mother’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You are?”

  “Didn’t ‘charging in’ net you the heir of Gallus? Didn’t it make you Water Sage?”

  “Of course not. I planned every…” Her mother’s eyes flicked inwards so she could subject Magdala’s words to considered scrutiny. “Oh, I see. Of course, that’s how it must look to you.” Her eyes met Magdala’s, twinkling. “You’ve only seen the results, heard the story, all without witnessing the effort it took.”

  Magdala shifted in her seat. “Um…yes?”

  “Then allow me to fill in that gaps,” said her mother. “Three years. Three years of courting, studying, and politicking before your father could ask me to marry him. It took fifteen years of more studying and more politicking to become the Water Sage. But it did take a fair bit of foolish charging in at the start.” Her voice softened. “I did get used to getting what I wanted so when I had you, I knew you’d surpass me as a Water Qe.”

  “So you were disappointed when she was nQe instead.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  Magdala blinked. “You weren’t?”

  “I wasn’t. I’ve feared for you, been frustrated by you, but not disappointed.” Her mother’s straightened in her seat. “Magdala Gallus.”

  “Mother?”

  “What do you want to be?”

  Magdala hesitated. Could she just say it, declare to her mother, to the Water Sage? Yes, she’d kissed Dwayne at the Harvest Ball in front of everyone, but that had been different. Well, it had felt different, and to be honest, that task was much harder than answering her mother’s question.

  “I want to be a soldier.”

  “Despite your parents’ concern, the sermons railing against mages engaging in military activities, the failure of the Duelist’s College, you Magdala Stefanie Gallus wish to become Soura’s first soldier-mage in generations?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll have to face spears, arrows, dark magics?”

  “I already have.” Magdala straightened in her seat. “I can handle that.”

  “I know.” Her mother’s expression turned rueful, painful. “It’s part of why I fear for you.”

  “Well, I… haven’t really considered consequences up to now,” said Magdala, drawing a surprised chuckle from her mother. “Did the Church make the Duelist’s College fail?”

  “Partially.” Her mother got to her feet. “But there were other extenuating circumstances that contributed to the college’s demise. Unfortunately, that’s not my story to tell.”

  Magdala scowled. “Lady Pol said something similar. She also said it was Dwayne’s.”

  Her mother considered this as she sat down next to Magdala. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “Why?”

  “That would be telling.” Lady Gallus took Magdala’s hands in hers. “What I can tell you is that when I heard that your lord uncle took on a Wesen apprentice, I thought, ‘ah, that makes sense.’”

  “So why all the secrecy? Just tell me.”

  “When Dwayne knows, you’ll know. Now, eat. Soldiers empty their bowls.”

  Magdala rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

  “I do love you, you know.”

  Magdala nearly dropped her spoon. “What?”

  “When you said it last time, I didn’t really respond.” Her mother winced. “I supposed I need to work on that. At any rate, I’m here to help, with your dream, with your relationship with Dwayne, anything.”

  “Oh.”

  And just like that a not-so-tiny weight was gone from Magdala’s shoulders. For months now, ever since she’d been suspended, she’d been digging in, entrenching her position, bracing for an attack that now would never come.

  “Thank you.” There was one thing to protest though. “I don’t have a relationship with Dwayne.”

  The corners of her mother’s lips quirked. “Yes, I’m sure that’s true. At any rate, my help is yours.”

  After consigning the thought of ever asking her mother for help with a relationships to the darkest dungeons of her mind, Magdala asked, “Can you teach me how to duel? When I fought Lady Pol, she wiped the floor with me.”

  “Oh, she did, did she?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “Well, the first thing you should know is that Luisa happens to be a terrible duelist. She just compensates with speed.”