Chapter 7

Theo Brood had promised to throw the party of the century.

It was an enticing invitation from the lips of the university's most spoiled creature. Enticing for everyone but Ren. She could not have dreaded anything more. She'd never met Theo because she'd intentionally avoided anyone with the last name Brood during her time at Balmerick. His family was known and notorious. Ren had her reasons for despising them, but Timmons would not hear any protests as they wound through the pristine streets of the Heights.

"It's just a party, Ren."

"You didn't say it was Theo Brood's party."

"How could you not know that?" Timmons replied. "It's all anyone has talked about for weeks. That's just another sign that you're in the right place. If no one mentioned this party to you, then you are sorely lacking on the very connections we intend to make tonight."

Ren felt a cold sweat forming at her temples as she followed Timmons up a lovely stone staircase that led to the front entrance. Her friend was drawn by the music and the noise, a creature returning to its most comfortable habitat. Ren preferred the upper stacks of the library.

"What's your issue with the Broods, anyway?"

"I don't have an issue with them."

"Oh, really? Then why does your entire face curdle every time I say the name Brood?"

Ren scowled at her.

"See? That right there. That face. What's so wrong with them?"

Everything,Ren thought. If only you knew all the many things that are wrong with them. She altered her answer into something more rational. The kind of answer Timmons might expect from her.

"Their business practices have been predatory for centuries. They took more prisoners in the Expedition Wars than the other four houses combined. Their family tree is basically a who's who of the worst tyrants in Kathorian history. And it's not like all their worst offenses are ancient history. Landwin Brood forged contracts to seize land from Lower Quarter tenants literally a decade ago. And then he balked on his promise to hire all of those people to work in the resulting canal's shipping yards. I just… I don't like the Broods. I never will."

Timmons nodded. "Gods, Ren. If morality is the centerpiece of your search for a house, I'm not sure you'll find one worth joining. Every one of the founding families has a few skeletons. Why do you think they're the most powerful people in the most powerful city in the world? Hint: it isn't because they're all super generous or something."

Ren knew that was true. All the founding families were corrupt; she just had very personal reasons to dislike the Broods. Reasons she'd never spoken out loud to anyone else. Ren kept quiet as they reached an overcrowded entryway. Everyone had a drink in hand. They were skirting the first crowd of bodies, moving deeper into the villa, when Clyde Winters snagged Timmons by the arm.

"Hey! I've got something for you! It'll take just a second."

Her friend shot an apologetic look over one shoulder. "I'll be right back," she said. Ren started to respond, then watched in disbelief as Timmons vanished down the nearest hallway with Clyde. Freshly abandoned, Ren sought the only other comfort in sight—an open bar staffed with attendants. It was a bit over the top, but at least she'd have something to sip.

Ren avoided the larger crowds and was drawn almost immediately into a more dimly lit study. It was far quieter there. Ren took a seat in the most remote corner she could find and began counting the Brood family's sins. She'd never thought it a sin to be rich, but Ren knew how their family earned their money. They sacrificed men like her father to improve their financial bottom line. All without consequence. Everything she knew—all the research she'd done—threw a harsh light over the wealthy flourishes of their home.

Every bookshelf was lined with first editions. She flipped a few open just to check. She sensed cleaning enchantments layered over every piece of furniture. A comfort charm had been cast over the scattered cushions. Through the door to the study she saw an ice sculpture of Balmerick. Its slanting roofs had been converted into frozen pathways for various beverages. Spirited chants rose and fell from that corner as the various heirs of Kathor entertained one another. Ren took a sip of her drink, but even that was annoying.

The servant had placed three cubes in her glass. Now she watched as they transformed, twisting to take on the appearance of miniature ballerinas. She held her glass up to the light of the nearest lamp. Her drink was fizzing but was clear enough for her to see the enchantment begin anew. The three miniatures tiptoed in circles across the bottom of the glass, twirling here and there. Ren admired their timed leaps. It was annoying only because she knew an enchantment like this would cost half of her monthly allotment of magic to perform.

She was nursing her drink when she accidentally caught the eye of someone in the nearest group. A red-faced Mat Tully grinned over at her, blinked once, and broke away from the others.

"Ren Monroe? Out at a party? What an honor. Cheers! And cheers to break!"

She tilted her glass to meet his. "Cheers. Do you have plans?"

He stumbled his way into sitting next to her on the couch. She saw from the angle of his body that it was not a permanent decision, which was a relief. Ren was thinking of ways to remove herself from the conversation quickly when she remembered the whole point of being here was to try to make connections.

"I'll be busy over break," Mat answered, tapping a freshly sewn emblem on his chest. "The Winters family officially hired me today. I'll be an acquisition specialist. Magical artifacts. They're interested in developing new medicinal techniques based on the more religious Tusk practices."

Her eyes landed on the coat of arms. It shouldn't have surprised her. Mat Tully sat with Clyde Winters every day in Magical Ethics. She'd seen him following the heir around campus like a trained lapdog. But Ren couldn't separate that from the fact that this was Mat Tully. Ranked 130th in their class. A boy whose test scores couldn't sit at the same table as her test scores. He'd been recruited and hired by one of the great houses on the same day she'd been snubbed for an introductory interview? Her hands were starting to shake just thinking about it.

She mumbled, "Congratulations."

"It's a decent entry point." Mat shrugged. "How about you? Prospects?"

"I am keeping my options open."

She'd grown tired of saying that to her fellow students, and her mother. Teachers inquired often as well. How were interviews? Which house had the best proposal for her? Any exciting contract incentives? They always looked so surprised to learn she'd not been recruited. At the end of each discussion they'd offer to pull what strings they could. Promises had proven a rather cheap commodity at Balmerick. Words were wind. As she eyed Mat Tully's new coat of arms, she forced herself to do the unthinkable: impress him.

"You know, I've always found Tusk religious practices interesting." She was digging back through memories of undergrad papers she'd written. "It's a really unique twist on the Delvean belief system. The whole concept of transubstantiation? I find it pretty fascinating."

Mat Tully took a nervous sip of his drink. "Oh yeah? Transubstantiation?"

"Well, yeah. Delveans, we have the whole ‘God created everything and left it for us to figure out' concept as our central religious thesis. But most Tusk people believe that God is literally the world around us. The oceans and the mountains and all of it—they refer to the whole world as God's Body. Which is also why they call this continent the Hearthland. Not Delvea, like we do."

Mat Tully looked more than prepared to drown himself in his drink. It was clear that he'd never studied any of this. Which was quite a starting point for someone who was about to begin professional research on how Tusk religious practices could influence modern medical magic. Ren's tongue was all but tripping over itself to go on. The other related research was crowding forward in her mind. Hearthland. The Tusk called it that because they believed this place was their god's actual heart, in part because it was the only location where they'd discovered any magic. Their people also believed it to be the very center of the known worlds.…

But Mat's expression was an echo of the one she'd seen on Devlin's face earlier that day. You just have to be right. She bit down slightly on her tongue, swallowed back all those hard-earned facts, and forced a smile instead.

"Anyways. It's pretty fascinating. I'd love to talk with you more about it sometime. If you hear of any openings in House Winters, I'd love the opportunity."

Mat took another sip of his drink. "Right, yeah, of course. I mean, I'm sure you're going to find a good fit before I'd have any strings worth pulling. You're obviously really book smart. Solid exam scores. Aren't you top fifteen in our class or something? If you just keep pulling on the connections you've made along the way, what's there to worry about?"

There is everything to worry about. Literally everything. And I'm fifth, thank you very much.

Clearly, her attempt to impress had failed. When Ren only nodded, the pause in conversation was enough for Mat to extract himself from the couch. He tipped his glass to hers one more time, wishing her a good break.

"I'll keep an eye out for any openings and let you know if something comes up."

She could tell from his voice that it was a dead end. She thanked him, though, and quietly finished the rest of her drink as other classmates swirled about the room. Ren considered searching for Timmons. She was the only reason Ren had come to this party in the first place. Without her, the voices were too loud, the laughter was too hollow, the lights were too bright.

She would rather have been anywhere else in the world.