Mr. Worthington pushed his brass-rimmed spectacles higher on his nose, but they slid slowly down again. A constant struggle of his. I tried to be attentive as he read me the list of damages in a stern, sonorous tone, but it was all very amusing.

"Three vintage framed photographs, one beyond repair. Two lamps, also antiques, irreplaceable." He set the paper down, and his stark gaze drilled over the desk. "I find this situation...surprising, coming from someone of your background and reputation, young man. What sort of activity lured you to this spree of destructive abandon?"

I leaned back in my chair and stretched, lacing my hands behind my neck. Should I tell him the truth? That it wasn't me who broke all of his lovely knick-knacks, but rather a depraved sorcerer who could shatter glass from beyond the river of death? I decided against it. Such a confession would only brand me psychotic, and earn me an even harsher scolding from Father. Explaining to Father was the inevitable confrontation I dreaded far more than this.

"I apologize with all due respect, sir," I said. I thought up an alibi as quickly as I could. "Reuben and I were considering joining the wrestling team next term. We thought we'd practice and, well, unfortunately we aren't trained enough to have warranted the attempt. I stumbled after a throw, and the rest is obvious."

Mr. Worthington cleared his throat, seeming to believe the lie. "As you know, there are consequences for such behavior. Your parents will be notified, and you must serve eight hours of domestic duty as disciplinary action."

I tensed. This was unexpected. "Domestic duty, sir?"

"For the next three weekends, until the end of the term, you and Mr. Gable will meet Mr. Ewing, the groundskeeper. One morning a week, for two hours, you'll assist the grounds crew with whatever tasks they see fit."

"I see." I sat upright. "May I ask what sort of work to expect?"

"With this weather, likely shoveling snow and de-icing walkways."

I suppressed a groan. "Very well."

Mr. Worthington took a pen from a drippy inkwell, and signed the warning document. He presented it to me with a smug, crooked smile. "Please sign, Mr. Blane. And be aware there is to be no more horseplay in your room. Any further incident will warrant even greater punishment."

"Yes, sir..." What an awful turn of events. Working in the snow was the last thing I wanted. Half term finals were approaching, and I needed all the spare time and energy I could to study. At least Reuben would be with me.

Our first work session was three days later. Reuben and I met the groundskeeper early by the clock tower. Mr. Ewing handed each of us a flat metal shovel, and pointed to the wide, flat terrace surrounding us. The gruff old chap gave a surprisingly easy assignment. "Just scrape the top layer, as long as it takes you boys, and that'll be enough for today. The robots can take care of the rest." He left us to the task, grumbling to someone on his wristcom about losing credits at the horse races.

Reuben sighed, his breath pluming. He wore sturdy boots and gloves as I did, a scarf and knit cap bundled around his face and ears. "Well, let's get to it," he said. "The sooner we get back inside for a mug of hot coffee, the better."

I shivered, rubbing my hands together. "What I wouldn't give for a heated blanket right now."

"Right." Reuben snickered. "Poor Moon-brat. Your first winter on the homeworld, and you have to do grunt jobs."

"Moon-brat this," I said with a smirk. I scooped a glove full of freezing powder, and dropped it down the back of his collar.

Reuben shouted, and threw snow back at me. We chased each other around the tower, laughing. With a devil's grin, Reuben packed a giant snowball in one fist, and hurled it at my head. I ducked in time, but the motion threw me off balance upon the slippery pavement, and I fell on my backside. The shovel clattered to the ground beside me.

The snowball flew over me, and splatted into a passing boy's face. Reuben froze, his shovel dangling from one hand. I scrambled to my feet.

"What the hell?" the boy yelled. "Who threw that?'

Another boy pointed at me. "Blane. Over there."

The tallest of the trio was none other than Vance Prynne. He sputtered and wiped the snow from his face, then stormed toward me.

"Are you trying to start something?" Vance's breath steamed on the frigid air.

"Not at all," I said, brushing myself off. "It was a game. I assumed you understood the concept, after the Truth or Dare incident on the yacht."

My thin attempt to provoke him worked faster than I imagined. He seized me by the collar. 

I raised a fist to strike, but Reuben grabbed my arm.

"Don't ever bring that up again," Vance said. "I'll stuff that heap of snow down your throat."

Reuben intervened. "I threw the snowball, not Silas. Let go, before I plant this shovel upside your thick head."

Vance shoved me away, and turned to Reuben. "Gable, I've got no beef with you. Unless you want to start one."

Reuben shrugged. "I was just having fun, and you got in the way. If you really want to piss off the person who pieces together the Society News Hour, go ahead. I'll make you famous, in the worst ways you can imagine."

"Vance, c'mon." His friends pulled at his sleeve. "It's not worth it."

Vance shook them off, chiseled jaw flexing. "I suggest you grow up, and get back to doing the robots' work. Whatever you're in trouble for, you both deserve it."

I couldn't resist another taunt. "Mr. Prynne, just last term you approached me, wanting to be friends. How did such a noble aspiration crumble when I've barely spoken a word to you in months?"

"You know well enough." Vance raised a finger at me. "We aren't friends. Keep out of my way, if you know what's best."

"With pleasure. I only ask you stay out of mine as well. "My dark lenses shaded my contempt, though it raged within me.

Urged again by his friends, Vance trudged away, bristling.

I chuckled. "We should have buried him."

"Oh, he'll be buried in shit soon enough," Reuben said, returning to work. "I wasn't joking about the Society News Hour. The ball's already about to drop on his family. And him by association, though not by my doing directly. We received an anonymous package at the studio, containing evidence that ought to shake things up for the entire Lovejoy-Prynne conglomerate."

I helped him clear the last few sections of the terrace. "May I ask what it's about?"

"I wish I could tell you, but I can't. Biggest rule of GMG is we don't speak of a pending broadcast to anyone. I trust you, it's just an honor sort of thing with my dad. The report comes out next week, and the entire solar system will likely have tongues wagging after it airs."

Though curious to point of torment, I pressed no further. We finished our job by noon, and Mr. Ewing dismissed us for the day. After a lunch of hot soup and sandwiches in the dining hall, Reuben and I went back to our houses to study for upcoming finals. The end of our first semester loomed, as did the beloved Yule holiday. On top of the workload I faced with exams and discipline, I needed to compile a list of gifts for my family and friends. Yule was a holiday cherished by all of the colonies, Earth, Luna, and Mars. The only one we all shared in common, and thus a momentous occasion.

While I pored over my mathematics homework later that evening, a cheerful beep lit my wristcom. I checked the ID, and grinned when I saw who it was. I nearly leaped to my feet, my chair scudding against the floor with a loud screech and clatter.

Gerald peeked up from his books. "Got an exciting message?"

I pushed my glasses up, squinting in the study lamp's glow. "It's Tamsin. I haven't spoken to her in almost two weeks."

"You really do care for her, don't you? You went from somber to smiles the minute she messaged you." Gerald's smile tilted. "Absence makes the heart fonder, and all that gibberish, right?"

"Definitely." I sat on the edge of my bed to read her text.

Gerald cleared his throat. "Silas, how far have you and Tamsin gone with each other?"

"What?"

"How far have you and your girlfriend, you know, played the field?"

I frowned. "Why in the worlds are you asking?"

"Just wondering. I've got something for you." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small round tin, and tossed it to me.

I caught it, turning it over in curiosity. 'Sinfully Safe. Lubricated.' The letters arced across the lid, surrounding a lurid illustration of a woman wearing red lipstick and racy lingerie.

"What is this?"

He laughed. "If you don't know, that answers my question. You'll want them at some point, believe me."

I read the smaller print on the label, and a hot blush flooded my face. "Condoms? No. I can't accept these. I'd never..."

Gerald winked. "Please, take them. An early Yule gift from me. Better to have them and never use them, than make a mistake you'll regret the rest of your life."

"That's true." I slipped them into my pocket. "Where did you get them? We're too young to buy those."

"My father gives them to me."

I thought of Archibald Forsyth giving his son such suggestive liberties, and my impression of the dignified old badger was forever tarnished. "I'll never picture your father the same way again. I can't believe he'd condone such behavior."

Gerald lifted a brow. "He doesn't encourage me. He just knows I can't stay away from girls. 'Be responsible and discreet, and I won't punish you for what you're going to do anyway', he told me."

I looked at the floor. "I've never...I mean, never dared to ask Tamsin about it. She determines how far we go. On her own terms."

Gerald laughed. "That sounds like Tamsin, from what I've come to know of her. She has you wrapped around her whims, and you just sail along with it, right?"

"That sums it up."

He walked to my side, and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "If you ever want any pointers, feel free to ask me. There's a lot more to it than...well. Your first time, you'll likely finish too fast. It's normal. Kind of like learning to swim. It gets better with practice."

"Thanks. I suppose." I folded my hands across my lap. "Pardon my asking, but how old were you when you first...with a girl?"

"Thirteen."

"Ah." I didn't dare ask who it was with, embarrassed for being so ignorant on the subject.

"There's nothing wrong with waiting," Gerald said, returning to his desk. "But given how much you say you love Tamsin, I'd be surprised if she isn't your first. And soon. I'm just watching out for you, as always."

"Of course. Again, thank you."

I read Tamsin's message once Gerald returned to his studies. She wished to see me. Our meetings were scarce this term, especially after the Hexer's Ball, and Vance. Regardless, I longed to hold her.

"T: Tomorrow evening, 7:15. Pentworth alcove. Fifteen minute fiasco."

"Simone: Isn't tomorrow one of the patriotic rallies? Why Pentworth?"

"T: Short break between speakers. Might be our only time together for a while. Don't be late." A heart icon ended the conversation.

I finished my assignments, took my evening bath, and slept with childish excitement brimming. The next evening, I dressed in my warmest wool overcoat and scarf, my fedora low as always. Being dinner hour, as well as the scheduled eve of the patriotic rallies Tamsin helped organize, few people were out. I dodged crowded areas, weaving along more deserted corridors and walkways.

As I approached, I heard the cheers and chanting of the fervent students and faculty within. Perhaps this wouldn't be as romantic a rendezvous as I'd hoped. I'd left Gerald's 'gift' behind, as I knew there'd be no opportunity tonight. Tamsin and I had enjoyed delirious petting and kisses for months, but the thought of taking our relationship to a more daring level unsettled me.

How would I measure up? If I failed to please her, would she still see me the same way? Let alone, I realized there were still many things I didn't know about her. To this point, I'd assumed she was as unworldly as I in the more carnal sides of love. She'd claimed I was the first boy she'd ever touched intimately. Don't be a fool, Blane, I told myself. There was no room for doubt. I loved and trusted Tamsin with all my heart.

I lurked near the corner of Pentworth for several minutes, to be sure all was clear. Sure enough, the scene was empty, the alcove deserted, despite the roar of humanity inside the building. I checked the time. Thirty minutes to the next routine security patrol in this area. There was time for a little fun after all. My spirits lifting, I hurried down the back stairs to our secret niche.

The storage shed was cracked open. Across the aisle, the backstage entrance was closed. Not a sound stirred, nothing and no one to intrude on us.

"Silas!" She giggled from the shed, her gloved hand beckoning from the shadowy door. "Get over here, silly. Before someone sees you."

I ducked inside, and she slid the door closed behind us. Darkness coiled around us, her delicate face barely lit by soft highlights from the single slit window above her. I wasted no time, and swooped upon her like a man starved. My arms tightened around her as if she were my only anchor in this world, my only joy and hope.

"I miss you," I whispered between kisses.

Her lips brushed as satin against my cheek, hands spread over my chest. "This may be our only fiasco until next term, after Yule break. Things are about to get messy among my family and their associates. My uncle will surely know I'm responsible, and punish me with even stricter curfews."

I paused, struggling to study her features in the dim. "I don't understand. What have you done?"

She threw her head back and laughed. No joy or pleasure edged the sound, only desperate abandon. "I've opened a can of trouble for all of them. They've tried to hide it for so long. But after what Vance did to me at the Ball, my uncle threatened me over it...they all deserve it. For what I've suffered all these years. My father's suffering, too. The War will come to Lovejoy-Prynne at last."

I gripped her arms. "Your uncle threatened you? How?"

She sighed, and laid her head on my shoulder. "Vance told Uncle Raleigh I slapped him in front of everyone at the Ball, though he conveniently glossed over the kiss. I doubt I have to explain what happened that night, as the entire school knows about it."

"No. Unfortunately, I've heard everything." I swallowed. "Chamberlayne is a gossip mill of the worst kind."

"So true." The gentle trace of her fingers along my neck and jaw raised a chill. "At any rate, Uncle Raleigh was furious that I offended his poor little golden boy, Vance. He said if I didn't apologize, and make it up, that he'd forego my tuition here, and ship me off to Celestine to live with him and Auntie Mabel until graduation. To attend some dreadful, hoity-toity, all-girl boarding school there, and learn to be a 'proper young Lovejoy lady'." A shriek cut her voice. "I won't do it!"

I shivered and huddled closer. "I still don't understand what you've done."

"A little revelation regarding my family's 'confidential' business contacts will hit the Society News Hour next week. Do be sure to watch. Your family will laugh their way to the top of the prospecting market afterward, I'm sure. Consider it a part of my Yule present to you."

"Wait. You sent something to GMG regarding the Prynnes' scandalous business contacts?" I recalled Reuben's hints, and it all began to piece together. "Tamsin, this is a dangerous game you're playing. Why are you doing this?"

"They can't control me anymore, Silas. That's why I did it. They'll pay for their wrongdoings, and they'll know I won't hide it any longer."

"Darling." I cradled her face in my hands, and kissed her. "I stand by you in everything. And I'll protect you with my very life, if I must. But this...I fear retaliation will strike you."

She laughed again, hollow. "Oh, it will. But greater authority will come in to distract them. The trade commission will have a field day with this. You'll see." She slid her hands into my pockets. "Uncle Raleigh is too powerful to be deposed, but the Prynnes' guilt will be revealed at last, and Vance will suffer with them. Doesn't that please you?" 

"Of course. But there are always repercussions."

She caressed me through the thin pocket lining, a favorite trick of hers.  "Hush. Don't worry about it. We don't have much time, and I want all I can have of you while it lasts." She broke my worries with a kiss. Her tongue teased my lips, feather light.

Circling her in my arms, I devoured her sweetness. I buried my face in her neck, breath quickening as she unbuttoned my fly. "Promise to tell me if they hurt you," I said. "If anything happens to you, I'll--"

"Forget all of it. Right now, this little moment, belongs only to us." She gently released me from my trousers, and knelt before me. "I want to try something new tonight. Because I love you."

Only a few minutes remained. Soon, the world would pull again, carrying her away from me as it always did. Family, honor, tradition, forces like a tidal rush tossing, throwing us in unbreakable rhythms. But now, there was only the rhythm of her body and mine. Her tongue, lips, and hands flowed across my skin. Locked in her sway, no secrets or shame marred the delicious feel of her. I was little more than a castaway, and she a billowed, stormy sea to drown in. Minutes was all it took. Rising, lifted to a pinnacle I never dreamed possible, I soon plummeted toward a dark unknown. I sank my fingers into her soft hair and cried out her name.

*** Author's Note ***

Will love and innocence survive when the storms of War brew on the horizon, rolling ever closer? Stay tuned, dear friends. Same bone time, same bone channel! (Image below is the lovely silver screen goddess, Myrna Loy, one of the greatest inspirations for Tamsin Lovejoy.)