Page 10 of The Amber Sunburst

Or, more accurately, how does he know the story Alexander came up with no more than five minutes ago?

This is suspicious. Simply implausible. Alexander knows it is.

But for once he just wants things to be easy—to be one of those people for whom ‘too good to be true’ is true.

And, anyways, the worst thing that could happen is that this Councilman guy takes him away and shoots him in the head. Which, honestly? That might be better than feeling like a fish so out of water it’s left the atmosphere.

Plus, if he really is being taken to this mysterious Academy, that could mean free food, a bed, and access to information. All of the things on his list.

So Alexander silences the part of him that knows there’s something else at play, and lets himself believe that this truly just worked out for him.

“Yes, sorry, that’s me. Alexander. I can’t believe you came yourself, Councilman. So generous, sir, really.” He flashes the Councilman his winning smile and offers a hand. The Councilman favors him with an appraising stare, then returns the handshake.

“Firm shake. They teach you that in the countryside?”

Alexander adopts a more innocent, country-boy posture. “Pa takes first impressions very seriously, sir.”

The Councilman smiles. “Please. Call me Bios.” He turns to Caeneus. “You should too, if you’d like. What’s your name?”

“Caeneus, Councilman.” Caeneus cringes. “I mean… Bios. Forms, this is crazy.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” Bios says with a laugh before motioning to the street. “We should probably get moving,” he says to Alexander. “We’re a ways away from the Academy and I’d like to get back before the sun sets.”

“Yes, sir. Can I say a quick goodbye to my friend here?”

“Of course. I’ll just wait across the street.” Bios nods to a fruit stand facing Caeneus’ cafe.

“Thanks, man,” Alexander says, once Bios is far enough away. “Without you I probably would’ve stood there gaping like a fish forever.”

“Yeah, probably,” Caeneus agrees. “But you’d be a hot fish at least.”

“Well, who am I to deny that?”

Caeneus laughs, then says, “But seriously, don’t worry about it. And don’t let them intimidate you. The other Auxiliaries, I mean. You deserve to be there as much as they do, even if you’re coming late.”

“I’ll try to remember that. But just, thank you. I won’t forget this.”

“I sure hope not.”

Caeneus winks, leaning down to compensate for the inch or two between them, and whispers against Alexander’s ear, “If you’re ever around here and want to go for that drink you know where to find me.”

He pulls back, and Alexander smirks. “I might just take you up on that, you know.”

“Oh, please do. And even if you just want to visit, like, platonically, you can do that too. Or if you ever need help or something. Or a coffee.” He awkwardly points to the sign of his cafe. “I like you. I’d like to be friends.”

Alexander has never met someone so undeniably sweet. Interested in more than saying they slept with a prince. He hears himself proclaim, “I’d like to be friends too,” surprised to find it’s genuine.

Caeneus beams. “Okay, then. Run along to your fancy tour guide. And good luck in the Trials. I think you’re one to watch.”

Alexander squeezes Caeneus’ shoulder. “I’ll see you,” he promises, starting for the cobblestone street.

“See you,” Caeneus shouts from behind him.

By the time they make it out of the Third Arc, Alexander is dead on his feet.

He’s sore from, oh, you know, his shipwreck, and this city is entirely made of stairs.

Bios has been pointing things out along the way: new fashions, well-known people, historical landmarks. And Alexander has been trying really hard to pay attention—he shouldn’t let new information go uncatalogued—but he cannot focus.