Finan loved conversation and he was pretty good at it too, even if he did say so himself. He was quite observant and had an open mind. He tried not to make assumptions about the other person and to listen with his whole attention rather than with just half an ear. People often gave away more than they realised: by their choice of words, by the minute movements they made while speaking or even listening. More than that, he enjoyed figuring people out. What made them tick, what he could do to prod them to certain things, and what they considered inviolate. He liked to see if he could change someone, or induce them to change.

It was also why he was so wary of the Mishalas–Miya, in particular. Their ability was just so unfair. A mere word, a touch on the hand, a wink, a kiss, or even something more intimate, and their prey would give everything they had at the asking.

He knew how to protect himself but it wasn’t something that was easy to keep up. Creating Animus barriers just outside the Anima was one way, altering their Protective Field was another. Both were extremely obvious and could be considered rude in polite society.

No, a whispered word, a sultry voice, those were enough to get through most defences, especially if one was caught unaware. But, like brilliantly coloured snakes, each Mishala was nearly impossible to ignore. They couldn’t blend with the crowd if their life depended on it.

Oh, there were some Mishalas who had average looks, but it always turned out that they didn’t inherit the Mishala Heritage.

Despite all that, how devious and insidious their abilities were, the true Mishala women were the prize consorts and wives. Not just for their beauty and ability, but also from a curious effect of their own Heritage.

Any son by a true Mishala, will always inherit their father’s Heritage. Always. Daughters stand a chance to be true Mishalas, but they can also inherit from their father’s side. About a third or a fourth of their daughters inherited true, but the strength of the blood fluctuated. In a generation of women, usually only one was powerful enough to be considered on par with the current Prima, or the Court Mage. But, well, Sadeen Mishala was in a class of her own.

Miya was thought to be the scion of her generation, so then where did Yuriko Mishala come from? He wasn’t sure, but he thought that Yuriko’s aura was just as strong as Miya’s, but was oddly not aggressive at all. At least it didn’t seek to twist his thoughts to her designs, to turn him into a mere lackey.

Or maybe she just hadn’t trained her ability? That was quite possible, from what Miya revealed earlier, Yuriko’s youth, and her general demeanor.

Against his better judgment, and at the prodding of Vie’Coera, he had followed Yuriko and Miya to the Abrigo estate, for a gathering to anticipate the Empress’ Grace. Well, followed wasn’t the right word, since he already knew that Miya would be here several weeks back. And since they were cousins, he anticipated that Yuriko would be here too.

He had been intrigued by her. She was quite different from most of the Mishalas. Physically strong, and incredibly skilled in battle. Armsmaster Kinohara was a Knight, on the threshold of advancement, but the girl had fought her to a standstill anyway. She was his own age too. How had she trained and what had she gone through to achieve that kind of skill? He was far more than intrigued, and he felt it was bordering on obsession. And he wasn’t even sure if it was her aura that did it.

Vie’Coera wasn’t sure either, despite how the artefact currently resided within his Anima. There’s nothing affecting you, Vie’Coera reiterated, other than your own emotions and hormones anyway. Ah, her Anima is releasing a wave of something, but it's fairly weak.

It wasn’t until the two entered the garden that his artefact remarked, Much weaker than the first time we saw her.

‘Wasn’t she in the sparring ring then?’

Yes.

Interesting. Either way, after Miya introduced her to Jonarius Abrigo, a frivolous young man who loved nothing more than to parade about with his connections and family wealth, they brought her closer to a table where she spent nearly half an hour staring at Valheim’s game. When she left to get food, he took his chance to approach her, though he signalled Drak and Aerda to help give them some privacy. Yuriko picked a table that would only seat four, which made the other boys' job a bit easier.

Drak gave him a pointed look and a hand gesture that said that he owed the other boy a favour. Finan shrugged and grinned.

Well, he managed to catch her attention with his opening lines, at least. She still looked more interested in the food though but that was fine.

“Would you like a game?” he asked. “After your meal, of course.”

“I suppose,” Yuriko answered hesitantly, “but I really should head back home to rest.” She glanced around, obviously looking for her cousin.

“I think I saw Lady Miya enter the manor. She should return shortly. The Empress’ Grace should happen soon.”

“The Empress’ Grace?”

As he hoped, she asked about it. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin before she continued to devour the pasta quickly. In fact, she asked the servant to refill her plate a couple more times before she seemed satisfied. Where did all of that go? She was as lean as any girl, though the contours of her body were quite athletic. He admired her flawless complexion, though he made sure not to stare too long at anywhere other than her face.

“Tonight is the Blossom Festival and is when the Grace will emanate from the Imperial Palace. It will cause the Water Season bare trees to have a spurt of growth and any flower buds will open and bloom at the same time. In a couple of weeks, they will bear fruit, and we’ll have another Festival to celebrate.”

“You don’t look so enthused about it.”

“Well, when we have a celebration every week, for one reason or other, it’s hard not to take things for granted.” He shrugged.

They chatted idly while the servants brought them dessert. He was quick to note how her eyes lit up when the sweets came. Her skin also had an enticing glow. Her Protective Field, probably. Used to protect from the cold. Women shouldn’t dress so skimpily if they had to use their Animus techniques to keep warm.

Ah, but she was an enticing sight anyway. He suddenly found his throat dry and he swallowed painfully. She glanced at him in concern and that just made his heartbeat race.

You better leave her be, Vie’Coera muttered. The waves from her Anima are quite persistent and your defences won’t last long.

‘Is she doing this intentionally?’

I don’t know. But this seems far more dangerous than what Miya normally tries with you.

“Are you alright? You seem flushed,” Yuriko asked, laying down her spoon next to the platter as she reached over to touch his forehead. Her hand was warm and soft and it sent shivers down his spine.

“I…” Cursed Ancestors! He had to take his distance or he’d really fall under her aura. “Pardon me, I am not feeling well at all.”

“Oh! Should I, uhm, get a healer?”

“No, no.” Finan struggled to his feet. His knees were shaking and her hand on his skin was making things worse.

Your defences are eroding to nothing, Vie’Coera noted clinically, though…was there an amused tinge to her voice? You’re the one who insisted on meeting her. I do believe you’ve already fallen.

“I just need a moment to compose myself.” He shook his head. “But I suppose I should retire for the evening. It was a pleasure to have spoken with you, Miss Yuriko.”

“Oh, well, the pleasure is mine.” Blessedly, she removed her hand from his forehead and he immediately felt the difference.

“Excuse me. Perhaps we’ll see each other in the Academy?”

“Of course.” She frowned, “Are you sure you don’t need a healer?” She called the attention of a servant.

“I…no. I’m fine, thank you.” Finan stood more easily. He waved away the servant’s helping hand. “Do enjoy the Grace. It is quite a sight to see.” Then he gave her a nod, and beat a hasty retreat.

Drak and Aerda converged on him as soon as they were out of sight.

“What in the Abyss was that?” Drak growled.

“Her aura was stronger than I thought, more insidious too.”

“You shouldn't fight it,” Aerda noted, “it only makes things worse. Ah, but I suppose considering your stature, you can’t allow that, right?”

Finan just shook his head. Behind him, he felt the wave of power coming from the palace. He didn’t need to look to know what was happening. Bare branches were suddenly filled with new leaves, flowers budded and blossomed, then shed petals like rain, only for the cycle to repeat. The scent of peach blossoms filled the air. He did look back in Yuriko’s direction, and through the crowd, he could see her, with pink petals floating around her golden hair. The look of surprise and wonder on her face seared itself into his mind.

“I think I want…” He didn’t complete the thought. He didn’t have to. Part of wisdom is knowing one’s self, and he was pretty sure he’d fallen in love. He just wasn’t sure if it was his idea of her or her real self. They hadn’t really spoken much yet.

Well, there would be ample time. He would make sure of it.

_________

By the time the spectacle was over, Yuriko had lost sight of Finan. She tapped her lips with a finger, lost in thought.

The boy had felt…not quite familiar, but there was a sense of sameness from him. She couldn’t quite figure it out and not knowing was like a splinter in her mind, worrying and distracting. He was quite opinionated, too, given how his rant against the game board, Valheim’s game, she recalled, didn’t seem to be shared by the other students around them. For some reason, they gave the boy space while the two of them spoke, but as soon as he disappeared, there was a veritable wave of young men, and some women, who made for her table.

A wave of musk, mixed in with the floral scents, assaulted her nose, and she flinched in both surprise and revulsion. That didn’t seem to deter them, and now there was a wall of bodies around her.

“Good evening, I am…”

“Hello, fair maiden, you might have heard of me…”

“Greetings, perhaps we should get to know each other…”

Thankfully, they had enough manners to give her some personal space, about a pace around her, otherwise, she would have started knocking heads together. The mixed musky scents, the heat of their bodies, the steam coming from their breaths in the cold air, and the intense stares made her head hurt.

She mustered as much grace as she could, and attempted to push past the crowd gently while responding vaguely to hastily made invitations. A few hands attempted to touch her arm, but she didn’t even have to rebuff them as the more civilized boys blocked them.

“Please excuse me,” she murmured when she finally got out of it. Then she hurried towards the manor. Thankfully, the musky boys didn’t attempt to follow, though when she glanced back she saw them hurriedly raise their eyes. She absently patted her skirt to make sure it hadn’t caught onto something, and finding nothing wrong, went into the manor.

She asked an attendant where the ladies’ room was, and after doing her business, went about exploring. While the blooming was wonderful, the wave of strange Animus wasn’t pleasant. It made her skin tingle and her Anima waver and contract.

The Abrigo manor was handsomely appointed with rich tapestries, abstract paintings, and golden ornaments set on display. Hardly a wall was bare. The carpet was soft enough that her shoes barely gave out a whisper as she walked.

Evidently, not a few students wandered around the house, too. Mostly couples. They eyed her strangely, with the boy staring and the girl giving her a once over before frowning or pinching their partners. She saw a couple of girls whispering and giggling in a corner booth, and a couple of boys doing the same. They paid her little mind, though the two girls gave her an inviting grin.

She was half surprised that Damien hadn’t said anything. Her Radiant reserves were full and he could have used them without issue. Was he humming in her head? Well, let sleeping dogs lie.

“Where’s Miya?” She murmured to herself.

She asked an attendant if they had seen her, but received an odd look and a negative response. So Yuriko kept walking and exploring, far more willing to explore the strange mansion rather than brave the bevy of boys in the garden.

She heard a particularly loud groan that came from a slightly open door, and she would have ignored it had she not recognized Miya’s voice. Good, Yuriko wanted to go home, or to the Mishala’s city manor if that’s where she was to be housed. She walked up to the door and pushed it open, then froze in shock.

Beyond the door was a sitting room and Miya was on one of the chairs. Sitting on Jon Abrigo’s lap while their tongues wrestled. The movement of the door caught the two’s attention. Her cousin and their host glanced over. Jon’s face was completely red and he looked as though he were drunk, while Miya was mostly composed.

She grinned and winked at Yuriko then mouthed, “No poaching.”

Yuriko’s hanging mouth clicked shut. She gulped down whatever protest or remark she had, spun on her heels and shut the door behind her. Maybe she was better off going to the entrance and asking for the landcrafter and its pilot to bring her to the manor.