Chapter 3

  Yuu

  Yuu knocked on the door to Azul’s private office on the penthouse floor of Mostro Lounge exactly two minutes earlier than his note had requested. Then, after a whole minute of silence from within the room, she knocked again.

  “Strange,” she muttered. “Never seen him late before…”

  Then, with the intention to leave her own note on his desk before looking for him, she pushed the door open, only to find him sitting there at his desk, as usual, behind a mountain of papers. Merfolk-made, parchment, A4, and a scrubby sort of material made in Savannaclaw. He had it all.

  She cleared her throat. He didn’t move.

  “I thought I told you to get out,” he grumbled from between his fingers.

  “Well, make up your mind, Zul,” she said, more cheekily than intended. “I have it in writing that you wanted me here.”

  Azul snapped upright so quickly his glasses fell halfway off his face.

  “Yuu,” he breathed, “I—I apologize. I thought you were—I didn’t think it was you. Is it time already? I was just—just—”

  Yuu laughed. It was rare to see Azul Ashengrotto as anything other than pristine, so when he had a rare moment of being flustered, it certainly stood out. Azul was one of the school’s top students, and at the same time somehow managed to run a business, keep up with his schoolwork, head his dormitory, and by the looks of him and his flawless, smooth skin, got enough sleep. It was like the man had eight arms. Seeing him like this, so obviously nervous, he suddenly felt so much more human, and she forgot for a moment that he was a merman like the rest of the members of his dorm.

  Before Yuu had stepped into his office, she’d been a bundle of nerves over talking with him alone. When she’d read his request to meet, it had seemed so formal—so stiff, which was why the questions had been circulating in her head since she’d found his note.

  Have I offended him somehow?

  Is this a reprimand? An interrogation? A confession?

  That last one was extremely unlikely, but he couldn’t have been more vague in the request to meet.

  Perhaps that was merfolk tradition? Give as little information as possible?

  Her exasperation with the entire arrangement was how she found herself in his sleek, probably dubiously acquired office not an hour later—teasing him.

  “I was kidding,” she said, hands up in a placating gesture. “But, if this really is a bad time, I can always come back later. Or you can just call m—?”

  “No!” Azul snapped, too quickly, launching himself from his chair in his effort to keep her. He was halfway around his desk before he seemed to realize the behavior was unusual, and slipped back into his normal composure.

  “No?” she blinked, surprised.

  He cleared his throat, shoving his glasses back up his nose, knocking off his hat in the process. As it hit the floor, his white hair spilled out in soft waves styled to give a sleek, polished look; however, his stiff posture and wrinkled jacket ruined the effect somewhat.

  He cleared his throat.

  “No,” he repeated far more calmly, plastic placidity quickly replacing his earlier lack of candor. “Please stay.”

  He cleared his throat again.

  “I find myself today in…an odd sort of predicament. I—ah—eurgh, this is going badly already. I could truly use your help, Yuu.”

  Despite his calm expression, she could already sense the slight bite behind his tone.

  So that was why he was so uncomfortable. Azul Ashengrotto was used to people coming to him for help. When he needed something himself, he had an endless network of students who owed him favors to call on. The question was, what on earth he could want from her that a network of magic students

  “I’ll always help a friend,” she said, trying hard to keep the laugh out of her voice. “—if it’s within reason.”

  He stared at her, not seeming to notice his fallen hat, nor even the way his white and blue collar had managed to turn itself crookedly on his neck.

  “Yuu…we are friends, yes?” He asked the question like he’d been rehearsing it in his head, and scowled like it hadn’t come out quite right.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Azul, you’ve known me for three years.”

  “I have,” he said, although by his expression, he clearly didn’t think that was telling at all.

  “I do consider you a friend, at least,” she sighed at last, taking the seat across from his without invitation. He took her cue, and reluctantly sank into his own. “The thing is, I don’t think you go through something as traumatic as an overblot with someone, or a complete memory loss, or a world-change, or three years of study without being…well, if not friends, then at least…connected?”

  He cringed when she mentioned the overblot, but when he realized that most of the instances she’d listed were her own experience, seemed to soften a little.

  “I hadn’t really considered it like that,” he said diplomatically. “I am somewhat ashamed to admit, I hadn’t considered most of what you’ve been—erm….”

  He trailed off, however, and never finished that thought. She continued.

  “We’re also on a first name-basis, and you’ve been responding to a nickname for months,” she pointed out before he could descend too far into his musings.

  “Is that what that is?” he asked, appearing truly baffled. “I’d thought the name was simply cumbersome.”

  “Yep!” she said, a cheeky grin returning. “Friends, Zul?”

  Azul steepled his fingers under chin. “Yes…yes. I suppose we are.”

  “Alright then, friend,” she said, no longer holding back the mischief. “Since we’re established, could I offer you a smidgen of advice?”

  “Why not?” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “This meeting is already an absolute disaster.”

  “Oh, it’s not absolute yet,” she teased. “You know, Zul, when you meet with friends, you don’t need to send paper invitations and drink vouchers. You can call me. You can text me. You can say something when you’re passing in the hall.”

  “I’m not sure if I have your number…” he said vaguely.

  She rolled her eyes. “You have the number of everyone in this school.”

  His plastic smile didn’t shift, but he shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

  “Am I to take it that—”

  “I’m giving you permission,” she interrupted, taking pity on him. She leaned forward in her chair, parallel now, to him. “So, what can a magicless, studentless, connectionless dorm head do for you today?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call you without connection,” Azul muttered under his breath.

  “Hm?”

  Was that it, then? He wanted her to ask a favor from someone else?

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Before she had to ask, however, Azul rummaged at his chair’s side, and from his briefcase, pulled a familiar white-and-pearescent invitation, which he set in front of her.

  “I’ve received an invitation to an event, and I find myself in need of a companion.”

  She stifled an unladylike snort. “A companion?”

  He pushed up his glasses, though they no longer needed adjusting.

  “My connections have informed me that attending with a companion will make me more approachable at the event. My family has a—a well-known reputation at these sorts of things.”

  “You need a date to the wedding so that the other guests don’t think you’ll bite their heads off?” she joked, but if possible, he paled even more than he already was. “I’m kidding,” she rushed. “Of course I’ll go with you. Actually, I was hoping to ask you a bit more about it, myself.”

  She pulled out her own invitation, and laid it next to his.

  “How in the depths did you manage to get one of these?” he demanded, his mage stone flashing in his front pocket.

  She held up her hands. “I’m at the bridal table with Mal.”

  Azul’s jaw opened and close several times. “You’re at the bridal table? You—why?”

  She examined the dark wood trimmings on the ceiling around the office bookshelves in an attempt to hide an eyeroll.

  “Did you even look at the bride’s name?”

  “Is this the other student from Ramshackle last year? I confess, that after the over—erm, your first year at NRC—I was a bit detached from everyone outside of my own dormitory. There was business to rebuild. Trust to regain—”

  “A thirty foot glass wall to repair?” she asked blithely.

  He nodded. “That.”

  “Anyway,” she gushed, before he could pull back into whatever tension he thought there had been between them, “I’m so relieved you’re going. I thought I wouldn’t know anyone there but Mal, and I don’t know what any of the traditions there are. Or etiquette. Or even what this date and time mean! And, I mean, I doubt I can just magi-map my way there. It looks like something you have to just…know.”

  “Of course it’s not plotted on magi-map, it’s—You’ve never heard of the Pearl Arch?” Azul exclaimed, before he could stop himself.

  She crossed her legs over the velvet in her chair and cocked her head at him. “Three years ago, I hadn’t even heard of NRC, remember? I take it you know?”

  Azul ran his fingers through his hair.

  “The event is mixed-species, so I doubt you’ll offend anyone,” he said at last. “And as the Bride’s representative—it’s quite the honor. You will be playing the part of the Bride’s Head-of-House. Apropo, as you were her dorm leader, but the position is typically filled by the matriarch of the family line.”

  Yuu threw her hands in the air. “Now that she definitely didn’t mention in her note—and I’d call that a crucial detail!”

  “She is the bride…lots of things going on this week, I imagine.”

  “This week?” Yuu deadpanned.

  “The happy day will occur in the evening, between seven and nine on Friday.”

  “It’s three days away?”

  “Three days is the usual notice for merfolk,” Azul explained quickly, watching Yuu’s face heat up. “It’s standard for contracts, deadlines, notices—”

  “And weddings?”

  “I’m aware that humans usually give several months’ notice for such an event, however—”

  Yuu found herself kneading her forehead, and leaning heavily on one arm of the chair. “However, she’s not marrying a human,” she completed for him. “Great. Just great. And what is the head of her matriarchal line supposed to wear to this sort of thing?”

  Azul cocked a brow. “You are the human representative. Those traditions should be in your repertoire.”

  Yuu groaned. “Well for us, usually the bride at least assigns a color. And it’s usually anything but white. And of course, Mal’s putting me at the head table without even telling me that.”

  “The bride assigns colors?” Azul asked, mildly interested. “What other duties does one usually fill?”

  “The women in the bridal party usually buy the bride a new set of tupperware. And maybe cooking knives. And clothing.”

  “Clothing?” he prompted.

  “Erm, sexual clothing. Anyway,” Yuu rushed on, not wanting to dwell on THAT topic with Azul. “Do mermaids not get assigned colors?”

  Azul shook his head once more, and though he seemed confused, mercifully didn’t ask any more questions.

  “Mermaids are assigned their own scale colors at birth, I suppose. They are born or hatch with them. It is both expensive and magically intensive to change it, although that could become easier in future…”

  “Thanks for telling me the time,” Yuu exhaled deeply. She wanted very much to know why some mermaids hatched, and some didn’t, but discussing merfolk birthing practices with Azul didn’t seem like the right call, either. “You never did say: is the Banejaw Lagoon far from here?”

  “Banejaw Grotto,” Azul corrected patiently, though he still looked scandalized at the question. “Under the Atlantican Pearl Arch. And it doesn’t matter how far it is. I imagine the Banejaw family will have set up mirror transport for anyone in possession of one of these invitations.”

  Yuu’s jaw dropped. “Just how powerful is this family Mal’s marrying?”

  Azul made a show of stacking the papers in front of him, though they were already as perfectly aligned as they would be.

  “Oh, they are quite influential. Enough to give my own mother, and the Leech’s parents healthy competition this past decade. Enough to give anyone competition, actually.”

  “And the groom, is he decent? Or do you think he’s just singing Mallory the siren song of success to get her to marry him?”

  That sent Azul sighing into the back of his seat.

  “I haven’t seen or spoken to Varun in many years, but when I did know him….he seemed like the sincere sort. You never know, though, with the Banejaws. They always seem to be something.”

  There was a touch of bitterness in the way he said it, and Yuu wanted to ask more, but there were more pressing things to decide—and she’d have plenty of time the night of to question him more thoroughly.

  “I’ll catch you here then, after your shift. Is five okay? I’d like to be early enough to help Mal if she needs it.”

  Azul nodded, looking more relieved than he’d been their entire conversation, though whether that was because it was ending, or if he was simply glad to have ‘a companion,’ as he’d put it, she couldn’t say.

  “I, myself, wouldn’t mind being early enough to greet certain guests,” Azul answer vaguely.

  The memory of Mal’s note flashed in her head. ‘Some of the Banejaw guests terrify me,’ she’d written. That was another thing she’d have to ask him about closer to the event. Until then, it wasn’t about her own concerns. It was about Mal, and digging up what on earth she was going to need at this thing.

  “Good,” Yuu said quickly, wondering how much longer Grim could be without her without causing destruction. “And what will you be wearing? If I don’t have a color, we might as well match.”

  Azul blinked.

  “Is that a human tradition?” he asked.

  She nodded, smirking.

  “It’s custom for ‘companions,’ who go to ‘events’ together to wear the same color. So what are you?” she asked, realizing.

  Yuu had sort of seen Azul in his merman form when he’d overblotted, but she’d been too far away to see anything but corruption, dying magic, and broken glass. Now that she thought about it, NRC was a quick bus ride from the beach, but she’d never even seen Azul near the water. She cocked her head, examining him. His hair was a perfect silver white, with touches of blue. So were his eyes.

  “Are you blue?” she asked.

  “I am not exactly a merman,” he admitted uncomfortably. “I am cecaelian, which means that if I were blue, I would be extremely poisonous, and probably hunted for sport.”

  “Okay…” she stared, not sure if he was joking. “Then what color are you?”

  “Okay?” he asked, regarding her as though she’d just sprouted a second head. “Just…okay?”

  “Well, yes,” she huffed, getting impatient. “I’m really just happy to be going with someone I know. Who knows people. Who knows the traditions. I don’t think I could ask for better.”

  He stared as though she had sprouted a third head.

  “Eurgh, Azul! I need to get back to Grim. We only have three days! Give me a color, and I will be here and ready before five.”

  “Black,” he said flatly, surprising her. “Since we evidently can’t wear white, it’s elegant enough for these sorts of things, and we’ll both do fine with it.”

  “Black,” she repeated. “It’s a little strange for a human wedding, but at least it’ll be easy to find. Wonderful.”

  Somewhere below them, a glass shattered—a typical sound for a drink restaurant, but it was a stark reminder that she’d left Grim practically unsupervised, and she didn’t exactly trust Ace and Deuce with the job. She stood.

  “If you have time before then, would you message me? I’d like to know more about what usually happens at these things… and Mal’s worried about the guest list, but she couldn’t have possibly been more vague.”

  Azul nodded as she collected her bag, invitation, and checked around the seat to make sure she hadn’t left anything. Her nerves returned somewhat as he scrutinized her movements, studying her closely enough that she felt like she was some new specimen he’d been assigned in one of Professor Divus’ hundreds of petri dishes.

  “I will try, but I warn you my schedule might not open up until late at night. And you should perhaps know me a bit better… some of the ‘guests’ that Miss Jean mentioned might have questions for you, and I’d rather you hear the stranger things from me.”

  That made her pause. She glanced up at him as she rose from her chair, unable to stop the smirk

  “I do know you, Zul,” she said, the nickname sounding heavier in her mouth now that he’d acknowledged it, but she was determined to press on, anyway. “I know that you work yourself to the point of breaking, that you have some strange vendetta against all things chicken, octopus, or crustacean, and I know all about your potioneering through last year. Mallory was obsessed. At one point there, you probably could have gotten her to marry you.”

  She laughed at the stunned look on his face.

  “Still kidding. Don’t worry too much about the questions. I’m not the sort to believe crazy rumors from strangers…But if you thought you had any mystique, Zul, you should know…your vice house warden posts your schedule on the back of the office door.”

  Surprising herself, she winked at him over her shoulder.

  “I’ve been meaning to say. Your hat’s on the floor.”

  With that, she escaped through the office door, leaving Azul looking downright disheveled.