>>5780983Ater the remainder of the day’s classes had concluded, your mind turned to Henzler again. Well, that’s a lie: your mind had BEEN on Henzler all through the day, in truth. You just knew you can put he uncomfortable discussion off no longer.
“Hey, you joining us for the Night Market?” asked Pearce, as he flagged you down with Blanchette, Efron, and Testa standing near to him—your other mutual friends.
You were about to refuse, regretfully, when something stops you. The kernel of an idea began to germinate, and a small smile crept across your lips.
“You know, I think we will,” you said.
“We?” asked Pearce, eyebrow arching.
“Nevermind,” you waved him off. “Go o ahead. I’ll be there in a little bit.”
You made your way to that same classroom-turned-storage-closet where you and Henzler had first met. Her peculiar form of mental organization would work that way, you reckoned—the first place you’d met up for tutelage last year would be the first place she would wait for you this year. You’d… Never formally arranged a specific spot, you realized. Luckily, it seemed as if you knew Izirina Henzler well enough, for your educated guess was spot-on: there she was, legs crossed at the ankles, hands in her lap, waiting expectantly.
You sighed as she noticed your arrived and smiled wide, with those hazel eyes bright and sparkling as they always were when you brought up the Fair Folk. You pulled up a seat and sat across from her, and Henzler’s smile faded a bit to see your face.
“Listen,” you said, “there’s been a change of plans… Not of MY choosing, mind you, but… Ah, my FRIENDS. They aren’t happy with the idea of me teaching their ways—our ways, that is—to a, uh…”
Henzler’s face fell further. You winced.
“But… What you said, about this being to settle up a.. A score… That’s still the case, isn’t it?” she’d asked, taking you off-guard.
“Well… I mean, I was mostly being nice, since you already thought the score was settled,” you admitted.
“But you said it wasn’t,” Henzler pushed, with surprising ferocity, scooting her chair closer in an incongruously-comical fashion to face you down with a glare. “You… You made a deal! Aren’t fairies bound by deals, as demons are?”
You leaned back a little, overwhelmed by her proximity and intensity, and held up a hand to count the reasons THAT didn’t make sense:
“Well, one, I’m not a fairy. I’m an elf. A half-elf. Two, just like demons, it has to be formal with them—off-the-cuff statements aren’t binding, usually. Three, I don’t speak for them—sorry, I wish I did. Four, if I teach you… They stop teaching me.”
“If they find out,” she murmured, looking down.
“What was that?” you asked.
Henzler’s face flushed, and she shook her head, saying: “Nevermind.”
