short, shaved down in fact. Broad shouldered, moved like…liquid. Had a dark voice, almost a British accent, sort of. It was hard to tell his eye color but I think they were dark grey. Big strong hands, lots of muscle, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt,” Tessa detailed, trying to conjure up the visual from memory.
“Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Seriously?”
“Scion, you just described half the fantasy men of Fiction. I mean you could have just said ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ and I’d have about as much to go on. The accent is your best clue, Stories frequently have the accent of their original story, although you said it didn’t sound like true British so that could mean it’s not his original language. It could be a blend or something he picked up here, depending on how long he’s been in the Mortal world.” Snow shifted into a lower gear and jammed her foot down on the accelerator. Tessa winced at their speed as a 25 mph sign whizzed past them. “What did he want?”
“I’m not sure. He said he was there to help. He mentioned me needing a new Advocate. Is that something I need?”
“It certainly would make things easier. And perhaps you’d annoy me less.”
“Very funny.” Tessa sat in silence for a moment.
“Did he provide any actual help?” Snow asked, pushing a strand of white hair from her face.
“No. I threw him out.” Tessa paused. “Should I have let him help?”
“I have no idea, Scion,” Snow said, and it sounded both honest and as if she didn’t much care one way or another. Tessa frowned and looked at Snow.
“Is there another Advocate? I mean, can I just go to The Advocate store and get a new one?” she asked, and then bit her lip. Bishop hadn’t even been dead for two days and here she was trying to replace him. She felt like a complete jerk.
“I don’t know much,” Snow said. “There used to be loads of Advocates, a handful of families that knew about the Story dimension and The Scion, that trained and studied and helped new Scions, that passed information down to their children, almost like a calling. Like any kind of tradition, I guess, with parents wanting kids to grow up and be doctors or lawyers, but these families wanted them to be Advocates. A lot of honor in it, I suppose.
“Knowing secrets that nobody else does, knowing magic is real, all that crap. I don’t know how they decided who was next amongst the handful of families involved, who should be called, if there was anything prophetic about it or if they just drew straws. We didn’t have a lot of direct contact with them. The relationship between Story and The Advocate has always been a bit adversarial . When Scions stopped being called, we stayed in touch with some Advocate families for a while.
“But a hundred-and-fifty years is a long time for Mortals and most of us in Story honestly believed it was over. That ‘The Last Scion’ prophecy was hogwash and that you’d all died out.” Snow cast a glance at Tessa who was gripping the dash in silent protest of their bracing speed. “Obviously, that’s turned out not to be the case.”
“Bishop seemed to know a lot, like he had training or something,” Tessa said, gritting her teeth.
“Could be,” Snow said, disinterested. Tessa scrunched down in her seat. Her stomach hurt. Not from the crazy driving which she was actually getting used to but from a feeling of dread in her gut. She didn’t know if it was guilt tied to Bishop’s death or something else, but whatever it was, it was horrible.
The car screeched to a halt in the barren school parking lot. “Not here,” Tessa said, looking around. “In the back, where the faculty parking is,” she said, pointing to the side of the building. Snow drove them around to the back and parked in a space up front marked with yellow lines. Tessa almost said something and then figured it was pointless. She was The Snow Queen, surely she could get out of something as mundane as parking tickets.
“Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Seriously?”
“Scion, you just described half the fantasy men of Fiction. I mean you could have just said ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ and I’d have about as much to go on. The accent is your best clue, Stories frequently have the accent of their original story, although you said it didn’t sound like true British so that could mean it’s not his original language. It could be a blend or something he picked up here, depending on how long he’s been in the Mortal world.” Snow shifted into a lower gear and jammed her foot down on the accelerator. Tessa winced at their speed as a 25 mph sign whizzed past them. “What did he want?”
“I’m not sure. He said he was there to help. He mentioned me needing a new Advocate. Is that something I need?”
“It certainly would make things easier. And perhaps you’d annoy me less.”
“Very funny.” Tessa sat in silence for a moment.
“Did he provide any actual help?” Snow asked, pushing a strand of white hair from her face.
“No. I threw him out.” Tessa paused. “Should I have let him help?”
“I have no idea, Scion,” Snow said, and it sounded both honest and as if she didn’t much care one way or another. Tessa frowned and looked at Snow.
“Is there another Advocate? I mean, can I just go to The Advocate store and get a new one?” she asked, and then bit her lip. Bishop hadn’t even been dead for two days and here she was trying to replace him. She felt like a complete jerk.
“I don’t know much,” Snow said. “There used to be loads of Advocates, a handful of families that knew about the Story dimension and The Scion, that trained and studied and helped new Scions, that passed information down to their children, almost like a calling. Like any kind of tradition, I guess, with parents wanting kids to grow up and be doctors or lawyers, but these families wanted them to be Advocates. A lot of honor in it, I suppose.
“Knowing secrets that nobody else does, knowing magic is real, all that crap. I don’t know how they decided who was next amongst the handful of families involved, who should be called, if there was anything prophetic about it or if they just drew straws. We didn’t have a lot of direct contact with them. The relationship between Story and The Advocate has always been a bit adversarial . When Scions stopped being called, we stayed in touch with some Advocate families for a while.
“But a hundred-and-fifty years is a long time for Mortals and most of us in Story honestly believed it was over. That ‘The Last Scion’ prophecy was hogwash and that you’d all died out.” Snow cast a glance at Tessa who was gripping the dash in silent protest of their bracing speed. “Obviously, that’s turned out not to be the case.”
“Bishop seemed to know a lot, like he had training or something,” Tessa said, gritting her teeth.
“Could be,” Snow said, disinterested. Tessa scrunched down in her seat. Her stomach hurt. Not from the crazy driving which she was actually getting used to but from a feeling of dread in her gut. She didn’t know if it was guilt tied to Bishop’s death or something else, but whatever it was, it was horrible.
The car screeched to a halt in the barren school parking lot. “Not here,” Tessa said, looking around. “In the back, where the faculty parking is,” she said, pointing to the side of the building. Snow drove them around to the back and parked in a space up front marked with yellow lines. Tessa almost said something and then figured it was pointless. She was The Snow Queen, surely she could get out of something as mundane as parking tickets.
Similar Books
