The name Mercian meant nothing to Constans; as far as he was concerned all of those helmeted, faceless men had no names. Not ones that he cared to learn anyway. Beth though, who was Beth-? Ah wait, Bethen. His memory dregged up the image of a mousey, quiet girl, always studying. She had been at the tower a lot longer than himself, which meant that she was in a higher class even though she was about the same age. Constans found most of the other apprentices who fell into that category irritating on general principles.
Certainly Aurin couldn't know of his offense, but his perfectly innocent statement made the dragon of jealousy raise its head once more inside of Constans. This girl, Bethen, and all the other mage apprentices could most days only dream of flowers like the handful Aurin clutched. They looked at illustrations of landscapes in books like starving children looked into the doorways of inns at suppertime, full of longing, and damned Aurin could march whenever he liked out into the gardens and hamfistedly pluck up a bouquet. To Constans, his mind running on well-worn tracks of mistrust and bitterness, this smacked of gloating rather than kindness.
Constans smiled easily at Aurin, his mind and his mouth slipping back to working at two different levels. The guilt still lay heavy in him, but the rekindling of his jealousy helped him to ignore it. "Oh, Bethen?" he asked with surprise in his tone. "You're friends with her?"