The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4) by V. St. Clair Read Free Book Online

fifteen.”
    Edgar waved a hand and said, “There is a corollary to the Statute of Remittance to offer minors some protection. Anything borrowed from children does not fall subject to the two-year countdown until you come of age, which is why we still have several years before all hope is lost.”
    “Nice to know,” Hayden muttered, with a scathing glance at Mrs. Trout.
    “Don’t turn your anger towards me,” She flattened her lips at him in defiance. “This is how the game is played. If you don’t want to lose, then learn the rules.” She stood up. “I’ll be training with Oliver. Edgar, do what you can for him and let me know what kind of progress you’ve made at the end of the day.”
    Edgar tilted his head deferentially to her as she left. Then he turned back to Hayden as though there had been no interruption in their conversation.
    “Now, let me begin by explaining the difference between inheritance and restitution…”

3
    House Colors
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    After spending a day in the Trout estate cramming boring, confusing, and often conflicting legal information into his head—punctuated only by his grueling etiquette lessons during meals—Hayden vowed to never complain about his workload at Mizzenwald again. Compared to this torture, hours of homework and battling monsters was a piece of cake.
    To top it all off, Magdalene’s idea of a treat was to give him a break before dinner to go ‘try out the combat arena’ in their backyard with Lorn. The worst part was that the prospect of possibly getting beaten to a pulp by one of his worst enemies was actually the high-point of his day.
    So he left Edgar in the library and trudged outside, head spinning with a polyglot of formal legal definitions and his own jumbled interpretations of them, trying to stretch his muscles as he walked to limber up.
    The backyard boasted several arenas for different kinds of fighting, which he had only briefly admired from his bedroom the night before. Now he approached one that had benches along the perimeter of it, as well as a freestanding cubby that Lorn had already tucked his belt of magical weaponry into before stretching his limbs.
    Under normal circumstances Lorn probably would have shot a derisive sneer in his direction, but his hand-to-hand combat instructor was still outside with them in the falling daylight, and he resisted the temptation with obvious difficulty.
    Must be nice to have your own personal trainer, Hayden thought ruefully.
    Hayden stopped short in front of the instructor and offered his hand.
    “Hello, I’m Hayden Frost.”
    The man had a surprisingly strong grip given that he must have been in his early sixties, his hair full-grey and styled like it was cut roughly with hedge trimmers. Lines of wear and age creased his skin, but he had a kind face and moved easily, the aging in his face not evident in the way he carried his body.
    “Well met, Mr. Frost,” he shook Hayden’s hand with the professional courtesy adults typically only used to greet their equals. “Hobius Grendel, Master of Non-Magical Combat here at the Trout estate.”
    Hayden recovered from his surprise at being addressed as Mr. Frost and said, “Pleased to meet you, Master Grendel. I’m afraid you’ll probably find my skills far below what you’re used to seeing around here; I may come from a Great House, but I’ve never had any hand-to-hand training before.”
    Grendel gave him a wry smile and said, “We all start from the same place.” He beckoned him towards the cubby area. “There are no magical weapons allowed in my practice arena, so remove your circlet, belt, and any other weapons you’ve got hidden in your clothes or shoes and deposit them in here.”
    Hayden had never really considered hiding weaponry outside of his belt before, and immediately wondered if that was something other mages typically did to catch their enemies off guard. He tried to imagine stuffing a prism down his sock and how