Political Offspring

Spring Semester

Adrian Cera had to partake in another family-mandated tour through the colonies. The youngest son in the family gets little say in whether he wants to participate in his family’s political posturing, even if that means missing the entirety of the first semester of university to do so.

He did not dare tempt fate, however, now that he had escaped his family’s clutches and was finally getting a taste of freedom. He breathed it in: pine from the forest enveloping the Royal Academy and cotton-candy body mist from the fawning girl next to him.

“We always need new members at the club,” the student faculty representative was saying to him. Adrian looked at the brochure in his hand. Like hell, he thought.

“Our meeting room is on the second floor, last room to the right,” she said, an award-winning smile plastered on her face. “If you need anything, absolutely anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Ella,” he answered.

“I mean it,” Elle insisted. “And I promise I’m not just saying this because I love your father. Which I do,” she squeaked.

Oh, no.

“You think they’ll come visit you here?” she fished. “Your parents, I mean,” she said, stating the obvious. Adrian suppressed an eye roll.

“I’m late to class,” he dodged and started moving away from her. However, he did not walk in the direction of the classrooms; he went down the stairs, heading toward the iron door that led out to the quad. Fresh air was what he needed right now.

“No, wait!” Elle shouted, running after him. Literally running. Adrian winced. He’d dealt with enough crazy fans over the years due to his family’s notoriety, but he’d foolishly hoped there would be none of that here.

Elle’s athletic physique was much more impressive than his, and she descended upon him, holding him in place. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she winced, a bit embarrassed. “I get a little carried away.” She tapped the notepad in her hands, scanning the contents quickly before turning back to him. “But the student council, as I was saying, we’re looking for new recruits due to certain drama that unfolded last semester which I will not bore you with. But with your stellar resume,” she beamed, shining a little, “and your on-the-ground experience, you would fit right in! Promise me you’ll at least think about it,” she rattled off in one breath.

“Alright,” Adrian nodded, maintaining his Mr. Congeniality smile. “Thank you for everything, Ella. I should really go now,” he said, patting her shoulder once, before turning away.

She deflated but did not argue. He heard her mumble as he walked ahead: “I was supposed to give him a tour…” Luckily, she did not pursue the matter.

Adrian felt a teeny tiny twinkle of shame at his behavior, but he did not dwell on it.

There were more important things to dwell on, like the Royal College itself for example, which was quite the sight to behold. Old gothic architecture with looming towers and draping, floor-to-ceiling windows that refracted the light in the most magnificent shadows. He was going to like it here.

His feet led him steadily out of the iron door and down the grassy path where other kids lay around in the sun, nibbling on their lunches and poring over their textbooks.

Beyond the polished, PR-approved visuals, shouts and curses echoed from further down the quad. Heads were craning towards the racket; the more studious among the students furrowed their eyebrows and tutted in disapproval.

“Those guys are at it again,” someone groaned to their friends.

“One of them is bound to get expelled,” another speculated.

“If we’re lucky, maybe they both will,” the first responded.

Adrian followed the noise to where other students were loitering around and watching the show. In the midst of the commotion, two students stood facing off, wands pointed menacingly at one another.

The taller of the two was shirtless, a green vine wrapped tightly around his throat, choking him. With his left hand, he pulled at the vine around his neck, and with the other, he shot blazing sparks at his opponent.

The opponent in question avoided the jabs with an easy maneuver of his wand. Sweat slicked his blonde hair and he was panting heavily. “Watch it, Axel,” he threatened. “Otherwise, I might really have Nini snap your neck this time,” he said.

Axel remained undeterred. He wrenched the vine off his neck with one ruthless motion, but it only slithered its way down to his arm, pinning it backward at an unnatural angle until the wand fell out of his grip.

The blonde guy scoffed and made a move to retreat. The vine detangled itself from Axel to follow behind its master.

Free of its grip, Axel massaged his arm, wincing at the pain. His features hardened as anger surged under his skin once more, and he reached for his wand with his left hand, leaving his right hand hanging limply at his side. He muttered a curse and attacked the blonde guy from behind, hoisting him along with his vine to hang upside down midair.

Heat rushed to the blonde’s face while he struggled against the invisible confines. “I’m going to end you,” he groaned.

Axel stood there, however, watching his opponent in a daze.

“Axel Saint John! Julian Fields! Stop. This. Right. Now!” A roaring voice echoed across the fields, and with it, Julian Fields came crashing down into the grass. “Go to the infirmary, then come to my office,” the headmistress ordered. “And try not to kill each other in between,” she barked before turning on her heel.

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