Sorcery's Hue (A Malion Series Novel)

New Bonds

"You look like you could keep a few down. What's your tolerance like?" She asked, ignoring my previous question. I smiled smugly and continued the tone into my voice.

"I have never drank a drop of alcohol in my entire life," Was the sentence I announced proudly. She let out a snide laugh. There was a hint of amusement in her tone. She took the drink up to her face, resting her hand on the massive burn scar that ran along the left side of her face, neck and shoulder.

"You're a Wood Osrocan, right? You'd have an excellent natural tolerance then." She added.

"Well, in that case, how about a drinking contest?" I challenged her, keeping up my cheerful grin. I hoped maybe I didn't have such a high tolerance and that I would get blackout drunk as soon as possible. Unfortunately, for my original intent, she was right.

I took my first sip and made a face to her amusement.

"You haven't had anything to drink before, huh? Well, let's test your immunity then." She challenged, and I gave her a wry smile, downing the rest of the drink. I coughed and heaved, not expecting the wave of heat that rushed over me and the intense burn in my throat.

"Is alcohol supposed to do that?!" I rasped, trying not to let a string of drool drip from my lips. She wasn't drooling. Is this just a me thing?

"Gods, this is highly unpleasant," I growled and sat back upright to meet her eyes.

"It gets better if you keep at it, but you'll spend too much money if you do it regularly, and you won't feel the good parts of alcohol anymore." She said as if she was trying to dumb it down for me.

"How old do you think I am?" I asked, pushing aside another empty bottle. She stared at me with narrow eyes.

"13 Life Cycles."

"Is it the hair? Is it just because my hair's long that I look young? I'm 14 and days away from my 15th." I muttered, downing another. At this point, she'd had ten, and I only had half that. A few dozen more and an unbroken silence later, I mustered the courage to say something to her.

"You know, you have incredible eyes," I said, mesmerised by the different flecks of purple. She scowled.

"Don't even think about spewing another stupid flirt. I'll snap your neck if you do." She hissed, leaning in closely. I leaned back, surprised.

"Flirt? No no. I wouldn't. I don't like flirting, and I wouldn't want anyone flirting with me. While you're very pretty, I'm not attracted to you." I explained, setting down the bottle I'd been soaring through. She did the same.

"Are you Aromantic too?" She asked. I allowed a small smile but shook my head.

"I'd like to have a romantic relationship someday, but I'm asexual. No way in The Beneath would I want to get involved in anything like that." She lowered her head slightly.

"You must have similar troubles then too. I'm in my 17th LC. Dark Osrocan men and women make advances on me, and when they're not flirting, they shun me. The proper age for marriage down here is 15 LCs. I am mocked and belittled daily for something I can't control." She said, lowering her voice into a soft murmur.

"My friends back at school constantly second-guessed my ability to be capable and loving simply because I didn't want to hear about how they made advances on their peers. No one ever made advances on me, but I can only imagine the discomfort. I'm sorry about that." I said, offering a comforting hand, except facing the back of it up. She looked at it quizzically.

"An offer of sympathy, but nothing intimate," I said with a small smile.

"I don't need your pity." She growled.

"It's not pity. I understand how bad that feeling is. This is a gesture to show you that." I told her. With a deep sigh, she placed the back of her hand on mine for a brief moment, then took it back to down another drink. A few dozen later and my vision started to haze over.

"Is this normal? It feels like I'm warmer, and my vision's a little weird." I explained. At this point, we'd both had a good amount. Maybe around 100 bottles each, the Lady was obviously ahead of me.

"Zara, come on, go easy on him. He's tipsy already." Grenther called.

"Zara? That's a lovely name. I think that means Sharp, right?" I said, my ability to smile was leaving me.

"My name is Zaraquiel. Serrated Warrior in context." She huffed, "It's a chosen name." She stuck out a hand.

"Varitran Hue. Good to know what to call you." I said, blinking at her slowly. I didn't have the energy to smile anymore.

"Dark Star's Blight? That's ominous. You wouldn't happen to know Darkness spells, would you?" She prodded, leaning in.

"All of them. Wound is a conjure. I wish it never was." I grumbled, downing another.

"What happened?"

"I screwed over the people that... weren't as kind as I thought they were..." the mutter left me. She leaned in closer, staring into my eyes with a stern look.

"Varitran, you're guilty."

"That's already obvious. Let's just say that it's my fault I'm an orphan... for the third time." I muttered in between sips.

"Why's it..."

"Touchy subject." I interrupted, and we continued until I couldn't see straight, let alone walk straight.

I kept up with her until bottle 200. Grenther was having the time of her life and supplied us with drinks on the house so she could see who won.

She'd gotten to 700, and I'd given up at 300. Although I can't remember what was said, I remember a short exchange before she helped me to my feet, supported me, and practically carried me out of the bar. The last thing I remember seeing is the scarred side of her face and a glimpse of those gorgeous deep violet eyes.