Nehemiah Smedley left his first class at the Royal Academy at a sprint. He jostled past the other students to the door, squeezing through it without making eye-contact with any of the people he was pressed against. Since the bulk of the class seemed to be headed right, towards the dining hall, Nehemiah turned left, towards who knew what, and stalked purposefully away. His face burned, and he hoped dearly that his skin could hide his embarrassment.
It had been bad enough that the teacher could not pronounce his name until the third attempt, and everything still might have been alright after Nehemiah had not understood the very first question he was asked. But when the boy beside him had suddenly shouted, “Wait, I know you from the docks! Are you supposed to be here?” Nehemiah lost it. Shock more than pride had forced him to keep his seat for the remaining five minutes of the class, but the boy – who Nehemiah definitely did not remember from his family’s old shop – snickered and sneered the whole time.
The hallway ended at a wall with a set of wooden stairs leading up to the left. Nehemiah took them, thinking they might lead up to the dorms and he could find his way to his room from there, but found he was in a completely unfamiliar hall at the top. He turned left again and kept walking, eager to be as far from everyone in that class as possible.
Maybe it had been poor judgment to think he could keep up with the well-to-do children at the academy. Maybe it would have been smarter to go with his family back to Sudapor. What was he going to do with an education anyway? His mother had thought it important, but Nehemiah couldn’t see what good a degree would do when people associated his face with the dockworkers anyway. He hardly knew how to do more than sort fish in barrels and estimate their weight, no matter how smart he looked on paper. There wasn’t much fish-weighing in the Royal Academy.
A sharp click-click snapped Nehemiah from his thoughts, and he looked curiously at the ground, which felt suddenly much harder under his shoes. He was standing on marble. The walls, too, had become gilded at some point, and a quick look to the ceiling showed a long mural that stretched all the way back as far as he could see. Nehemiah let out a long low swear, and started to turn back. He definitely was not supposed to be in this part of the palace. Students belonged in the academy unless they desperately needed the library. Hurrying back the way he had come was not easy however, now that he was aware enough of the decorations to become distracted by them. A pretty gold etching like a vine growing up the wall made his head turn, and up on the ceiling a painting of a lovely dark-skinned woman with flowing hair and her hands pressed to her temples stopped his feet completely as he stared open-mouthed. Nehemiah turned to see her right-side up. A crowned man knelt before her, his arms outstretched, pleading. Nehemiah would have to ask someone its significance later. It was surely some historical or mythical event.
He stared at the ceiling until his neck started to hurt, then let his head flop back down so he could rub the stiffness out. His turn earlier had left him facing a window, and this too put all thoughts of getting back to the academy out of his head. Nehemiah had known, of course, that the palace had gardens somewhere, but he had never thought where to look for them before. The late summer season didn’t boast many flowers, but the bushes were green, and the trees full of budding fruit, and just there, almost hidden by a tall hedge, was a small silver bench that would be perfect for lunch alone. Well, Nehemiah didn’t have food, but he wasn’t feeling very hungry yet, either, and the bright sunny day was calling. He scurried on to the end of the hall, and down the fancy stairs there.
To his great surprise, he saw no one while finding his way to the gardens. He passed an empty room with large plush chairs beyond a wide open door, and another that looked like a very messy study, but keeping to the windowed walls, it took him very little time to find a door to the outside. It was large, wooden and heavy, delicately carved, but not painted or embellished like most of the other doors in this area. It was very heavy for a short, scrawny boy, but Nehemiah had worked on the docks, and the hinges were well oiled. He slipped outside and let it ease shut behind him.
The day was every bit as beautiful as it had looked from the window. Nehemiah followed the footpath a little ways, then turned through a slight break in the bushes to his right. He was pretty sure he remembered the way. Left at the drooping tree, across where the footpath looped around, what felt like a little too far along a slightly-wilting flower bed, and there beside him was a tall hedge that surely had a bench on the other side. Keeping the hedge on his right, he walked around it until he found a break, which even he was only just small enough to push through cleanly. The bench on the other side was perfect, and two navy cushions were hidden behind it, tilted so they could stay dry until they were used. Nehemiah pulled one onto the bench and flopped down on it. The sun felt delightful on his face, a warmth that was cozy, not burning in his cheeks, and he closed his eyes to soak it in. For just a moment, nothing mattered, not idiot classmates who couldn’t shut their mouths, or silly teachers who couldn’t pronounce your names, or whatever a “passive joint amelioration” was anyway. Kingston was good. Kingston was better than Sudapor, and Nehemiah would find a place like this for himself.
“What are you doing here?”
Nehemiah jumped up so fast he stumbled, choking on the curse words that sprang up in his throat. The boy behind him laughed.
“No, no, don’t get up! It’s okay, I won’t tell. How’d you find this place?”
“I-I saw it out a window,” Nehemiah stuttered. He did not sit back down. The boy who had startled him was standing half-in-half-through the hedge, grinning broadly. He was dark-skinned, tousle-haired, and had a broad, expressive face. He must have been half-way through puberty, because his shoulders and feet were far too large for the rest of him, and made him look decidedly off-balance.
“And figured out how to get here from that? That’s pretty good!” he said. “Are you a student, then?”
“Just started,” said Nehemeiah, trying not to groan.
“Me, too.” The boy pulled himself all the way through the hedge and came around to grab the other cushion. “I’m getting a little big for that. I’ll have to find another way to hide the hole there.”
“You’ve come here before?” Nehemiah asked.
“Sure, this is my favorite spot,” he said, dropping down gracelessly on the bench so that his legs kicked out in front of him. “It’s nice to get away from everyone, and this is the quietest place in Kingston. Even when Bordone can find me, he can’t often get to me here. Might have to make the hedge there a bit taller if you can see it from the window, though.”
“You have to look from the right angle,” Nehemiah said. He paused a moment, looking at the hole in the hedge. “What if you put a gate there and let it get covered by hedge on the other side?”
“Won’t the hedge get crushed and be obvious?”
“Maybe. You could let ivy grow across it. That would blend in well and be free to move,” Nehemiah suggested. The boy looked over his shoulder to the hole thoughtfully, then smiled.
“You know, that could work,” he said. ‘You’re pretty smart, eh? What’s your name?”
“Nehemiah Smedley. Don’t laugh.” The boy tried very hard to honor this request. Nehemiah decided to give him credit for the attempt.
“And you’ve just started academy, then? Any idea what you’re going to study?”
“Not really,” answered Nehemiah. He pulled his cushion back onto the bench and finally sat down again next to the boy. “I got in on royal scholarship, but don’t have any other schooling. I wouldn’t know what to do with whatever I studied.”
“We could use more tacticians around here,” the boy grinned. This seemed to be some sort of joke, but Nehemiah didn’t understand it.
“What would a tactician do?”
“Be an advisor to tactics worth any salt. Or an ambassador at least. Any interest in languages?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never studied any,” Nehemiah replied, a little dumbfounded. He couldn’t tell if this boy was making fun of him or not. He seemed genuinely interested, but Nehemiah could not see why he should be. “What are you studying?”
“A little bit of everything, as I’m supposed to be,” the boy groaned. “Can’t stand Bordone’s lessons, though, and I’ve just found out I’m rotten at magic, so I’d come here to sulk. You’re better company, though.”
“Er, thank you?” Nehemiah didn’t have anything else to add, so he fidgeted for a moment. The boy was fine with this. Apparently, people were often deeply uncomfortable with his presence.
“What have you got next then?” he asked after a little while.
“Ampanian history. Teacher… Randolph, I think?”
“Oh, good! I’ve got that, too!” The boy laughed. Nehemiah couldn’t shake the thought that he might not be telling the truth. It must have shown on his face because the boy laughed again and said, “No, really, I do. She’s new, but was doing well in Lakepost before now, teaching the locals there. Bordone thinks she might be able to put some history in my head, and he’s starting me at the beginning level, because I can hardly remember beyond my own grandparents.”
“It’s probably starting soon. Maybe we should get back…” Nehemiah murmured.
“You won’t get in trouble if you come in with me,” the boy said. “Did you eat, by the way? I’ve got some things here.”
“I’m alright.”
“That’s a no then. Dinner’s a long time away. Take this at least, come on. I’m going to eat, and you’re going to get hungry sitting next to me.” The boy pressed a pear and a hunk of cheese into Nehemiah’s lap.
“You don’t have to—“
“It’s from the dining hall. It’s hardly a royal feast. Don’t fret it, yeah?” The boy’s smile faltered a little, as he looked Nehemiah up and down. “Do you… do you know who I am?”
“No idea,” Nehemiah admitted. “Sh-should I?”
The boy gave a great, bright laugh, but tried to stop himself quickly. He covered his mouth with his hand while his whole body shook with humor. It took him only a few seconds to regain control of himself, and he settled down rubbing his face with his hand.
“Sorry. I don’t care, really. I might even like this better. I think I do. It’s just so rare… most people come here expecting to meet me, and, well you come and find my private spot with no idea. It’s fantastic. Sorry, I’m talking nonsense at you, yeah? I’m Raul. Raul Tordault.”
Nehemiah swore without thinking about it. His hands flew to his mouth too late to cover the shouted curse, but it just made Raul laugh again.
“Don’t you dare apologize. I see you want to. That’s much better than “Your Highness” or anything like that. I think “Your Shit” is a much better title for me. Merkal might agree.”
Nehemiah was pretty certain that his mouth was still hanging open, so he shoved the pear in it and concentrated on chewing so he wouldn’t make a further fool of himself.
“Why don’t I go ahead and answer all your questions?” Raul offered. “Yes, I live in the palace, so you’ll run into me a lot. Yes, I’m just starting my academy training this year, so you’ll likely have some classes with me, too. No, I don’t mind you being here. No, I won’t get you in trouble. No, you aren’t out of bounds, and finally, yes, I do find you a bit amusing, but I’m willing to bet that once you stop flushing you’ll feel the same about me.” Raul watched as Nehemiah swallowed his food.
“Do you know any of the other students?”
“Just you for now. I’ve only had Hotspur this morning. He wants to teach me one-on-one at least to start, so I get the basics down before having to deal with other people. That turned out to be good fortune. Would have been awful if I’d done that poorly with a snickering audience to boot.” Raul shook his head.
“I didn’t even sign up for magic,” Nehemiah said. “I don’t know anything about it, so you’re bound to be better than me.”
“Ha, you’d make a good friend, wouldn’t you?” Raul replied with a snort. He raised his eyebrows to Nehemiah, who felt his cheeks heat up again, but managed to make the same face back at the crown prince. “Quick on your feet, too? Yep, that settles it. Mom will be right pleased.” He held out his hand. Nehemiah raised his eyebrows again. Raul grinned broadly.
“Friends?”
Nehemiah almost kept himself from shaking as he took Raul’s hand and shook it. He wouldn’t be able to write home about this for a while. No one would believe him. He kept Raul’s gaze and matched his grin.
“Friends.”