Roxy

In the evening, as the sun had already dipped behind the trees, Roxy entered the spacious home of the parents. A fireplace crackled in the living room, and dinner was already steaming on the table. She slipped the traveling cloak from her shoulders, adjusted her blue braids, and scanned the room.

Sitting at the table was the very adult son for whom this whole arrangement had been made. He did not exactly look enthused. Roxy stopped in front of him, leaned her hands against the edge of the table, and offered a light smile, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.

— I heard you're the resident idler around here. Your parents are hoping I can turn you into a mage, — she tilted her head to the side, studying him with a faint, teasing interest.

— I'll say this upfront: I won't be coddling you. I will only teach you what you are capable of learning yourself. Our first lesson will be tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late.

She straightened up and headed toward her assigned room, but paused at the threshold to glance back over her shoulder:

— And one more thing. I'm a rather strict teacher. If you try to be clever with me, I'll be just as clever back!