Page 1 of Misfit (Starshine)

A rlon was no stranger to feeling out of place, but standing in front of the entire population of the Crux made him want to sink into the fucking floor.

“I’m pleased to formally introduce you all to Arlon Kalisson.” The Grandmaster’s voice carried across the silent room, and if she hadn’t been standing right beside him, he might have walked off.

“You likely will recognize him,” Fawn continued. “Arlon was previously a member of our staff, but after displaying magical aptitude, he will now be joining our ranks as a wizard of the Crux.”

Calling him one of the staff was a kind lie, but some of the wizards in the crowd before him knew the truth. A little over a year ago, they’d been at Fawn’s side when she arrested him. In the ripple of murmurs, Arlon already felt the rumor mill starting to churn.

“Regardless of his nontraditional start at the Crux, I expect everyone to extend him the same welcome and respect you would give every new adept that comes through our doors.” Her voice carried an edge that cut through the chatter.

Yet nothing Fawn said could erase who he had been.

For a moment, Arlon saw himself as the wizards in front of him did; his towering height, his intimidating build.

Every scar crossing his swarthy skin made him stick out among these soft and beautiful highborns like a thorn. A Wolf in wizard’s robes.

Fawn’s announcements turned to other things, new assignments, an update about one of the hard points in the abjuration tower, and Arlon took that as permission to step away from the front of the room.

Eyes still followed him, but that wasn’t unusual.

His size had always caught stares, but there was something behind the looks of the Crux wizards that made him uneasy.

Like they were trying to figure out where to put a blade to drop him.

He passed the gawking wizards without making eye contact, intent on the breakfast spread across the far table. Yet as he filled two cups, one with kaffa and the other with tea, he couldn’t help but overhear some whispers.

“He was really a bandit?”

“Heard he was part of Vian’s Wolves, up in the Hobokins.”

“Gods, he’s built like a brick house.”

“Think he’s ever killed someone?”

Arlon’s hands tightened around the mugs, and he left the mess hall without grabbing anything else.

He walked the familiar path across the atrium and headed down the hall towards the Grandmaster’s office.

The door was unlocked, and though the room belonged to Fawn, it was the one place in the Crux that didn’t make him feel like a stray sneaking into a rubbage pile.

Like he was intruding someplace he shouldn’t be.

Arlon closed the door behind him, glad to shut the rest of the Crux away.

A few moments later, Fawn entered, carrying two bowls of the breakfast he had failed to gather.

He wordlessly traded her for the cup of tea he’d brought, sighing as he looked down at the spiced oats topped with spring berries.

“That was painful,” Arlon murmured as Fawn circled him to take a seat behind her desk.

“That was necessary.” Eyes as calm and blue as a glacial lake studied his face. “You’ve been a free man for two months, Arlon. People have noticed you, but you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the rest of the Crux.”

He set the bowl down, his appetite suddenly gone, and picked up his kaffa instead. He’d been in such a hurry to leave the mess hall that he hadn’t added anything to it, but the bitterness suited his mood this morning.

Fawn read his silence as she brushed a wayward strand of black hair over the short knifepoint of her ear. “Arlon, do you really want to make magic?”

“Of course I do, I just…”

“Just what?”

He answered with a half shrug before he took another sip of kaffa. It was hot enough to burn his tongue, but the discomfort was easier to bear than Fawn’s scrutiny.

“To make magic, you have to at least talk to other wizards,” she pressed gently.

“I talk to you, don’t I?”

“You know what I mean.” Fawn always seemed to have an inherent smile on her lips, which made the frown she directed at him now seem even more out of place. He didn’t like seeing it, let alone being the cause of it, so he chose to look at the dark kaffa in his mug rather than her.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked at last.

Silence had always been her greatest weapon, and she used it now, letting the quiet stretch until Arlon squirmed. He sunk down petulantly into the chair before he finally spoke. “I don’t like the way they look at me.”

Fawn considered him before she set her mug on the desk and rose to her feet. Her silver dress swept along the floor as she circled around and came to stand behind his chair. Her long-fingered hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing gently. “Why?”

Arlon gave another half shrug, but over the past two months, her touch had become a conditioned thing, easing the tension from his body.

It was as if her calming presence seeped into him through the simple contact.

It took a moment for him to find the answer, but even before she’d granted him his freedom, she had given him the tools to better sort through his own emotions.

“I was indentured two months ago,” he said. “Just because you’ve given me robes doesn’t change the fact that I started here in chains.”

“Aah,” Fawn said in that knowing way that used to grate on him like dirt in a wound.

“You think they’re judging you. Judging your past.” He gave another little half shrug only to groan as her thumb dug into a knot in the muscles of his shoulder.

“But if you refuse to speak to anyone, what else have you given them to consider? Certainly not the man you are now.”

He scowled at that. “Ah, yes. Let me, one of Vian’s Wolves, scourge of the Hobokins, waltz up to these nobles and highborns to broach a conversation.”

“Former scourge of the Hobokins,” Fawn corrected with a delicate chuckle.

She circled around to the front of his chair, bundling her silver skirts before she straddled his lap in one smooth movement.

As her weight settled against him, his hands automatically came up to rest on the curve of her waist. “ Calling all who live in the Crux nobles and highborns is very generalizing. Also incorrect.”

“Oh?” Arlon asked, eyebrow raised. “I thought you said wizards like me were rare.”

“And they are,” Fawn said. “But regardless, you aren’t the only non-bloodline wizard currently in residence. Two others have been here for some time, now. They arrived a few months before your indenture even started.”

A frown tugged at his lips as he wracked his memory for anyone at breakfast who stood out. “Really? Who?”

“I wager you would find out if you asked around.” Mischief lit up her blue eyes, and she stole his frown away with a gentle kiss.

Arlon let out an annoyed sigh against her lips even as his eyes slid closed. The annoyance faded as the kiss deepened, and when she finally pulled away, his trousers were uncomfortably tight.

“Why can’t I just make magic with you?” he asked, fully aware of how pathetic the longing in his voice sounded.

Funny how things had changed. When Fawn had arrested him over a year ago, he had thought he hated her. Now, cut loose among the greater population of the Crux, he felt lost without her.

During the year he had served his sentence, Fawn had shown him all the miracles magic could accomplish.

He’d gotten glimpses, but it wasn’t until the night he gained his freedom that she showed him exactly how it was made.

The past two months had been eye-opening, and though he knew that embracing the magic in his blood could change the course of his life for the better, he didn’t know where to start.

Fawn’s smile was full of sympathy as she lifted her hands to cup his face. Her long, cool fingers lacked the extra joint that full-blooded Maeve had, but he couldn’t imagine a safer place to be than in between them.

“ A’marra , I will never force you to cast or conduit for anyone else if that’s what you choose,” she said gently.

“What I’m asking you to do is find friendship .

” Before his scowl could fully form, Fawn kissed it away.

“I know trust is difficult for you. I understand all of the many reasons why that is. All I’m asking is that you try. ”

Her hands released his face, and Arlon sighed as he rubbed his cheek. She let him sit with that for a moment, let the silence stretch once more until finally, he said, “Alright. I’ll find these non-bloodline wizards. Tomorrow, maybe.”

A smile graced her lips as she stroked her fingers through his thick, coal-black hair. “And what were you planning on doing today?”

Arlon raised an eyebrow as his hands tightened on her hips. He pulled her flush against him, letting her feel his need through the fabric of his trousers. “If the Grandmaster can find time in her busy schedule to indulge me… I think I have a spell I’d like to try.”

Fawn hummed, something mischievous entering her smile. “So you’ve been reading the book I loaned you?”

Heat creeped up his neck. He had expected a book called Fundamentals of Magic to be a dry read. He had been mistaken.

“It has been… enlightening.”

Fawn ground her hips down, and Arlon groaned at the heat of her, just out of reach through so many layers of clothing. “Which schools have piqued your interest?”

“Most of them have in some way or another.”

Fawn hummed again before she leaned forward, lips brushing his ear. “Is there a school in particular you would like to explore with your willing conduit today? ”

The whisper of her lips against his skin sent gooseflesh down Arlon’s arms. “I have some ideas.”

Fawn moved off his lap, standing with one smooth motion before she offered him a hand. “Show me.”