Chapter 13

S idling up to the laboratory’s door, Dae peeked inside. Empty. No Ezzyn. She stepped inside, casting a wary glance toward the open connecting door to his office. Also empty. She let out a quiet, relieved breath. The awkwardness of yesterday’s encounter, of her egregious dropping of her guard, of her waving and grinning like a fool to Mr. Low Interaction, was still fresh in her mind. It was too soon to be in close proximity and hope that she could focus on anything besides the fraught silence separating them. Because such a silence was inevitable. He wouldn’t ask about her lapse in their mutual intentional disregard, and she wasn’t going to volunteer an explanation. My sister and I aren’t fighting anymore about me pursuing my dreams. To the man who’d uprooted from his life and work within his home country as a favor for his brother, she was rather pathetic in comparison.

Dae scanned the workstation for her usual list of tasks and came up empty. Nothing tucked onto one of the shelves or at her makeshift desk in the corner. She even chanced a look at Ezzyn’s desk and still found nothing. The pad he usually wrote on was bare.

Returning to the lab, she sought out the research log for his current experiment. Might as well start transcribing now since he’d assign it to her later anyway.

With fresh paper and pen, she set about her work, pausing only to slide her ongoing list of comments and questions from her bag and place them on the desk. Ezzyn was running a battery of tests to measure different applications of fire magic and its effectiveness at purifying various degrees of poison saturation. Such results were sadly only temporary, the magic-infused poison weaponized by Eylle having proven to resurface no matter how thorough a cleansing seemed. Still, Ezzyn’s work in concert with grovetender soil treatments was edging toward the longest fallow periods, inviting interdisciplinary research. A few of the soil samples were showing promise for the first time in years. Ezzyn would be pleased.

The thought made her stomach swoop. For reasons other than the general good for the world that such results entailed.

“Ana?”

Her head snapped up, one hand sweeping her personal notes beneath the official log. She caught the frown that wanted to form on her face, schooling her features to polite puzzlement instead. “Brint? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” He walked into the lab and helped himself to a stool. “I wanted to hear about how seeing Calya again went.”

Her eyes swept over him. He looked, well, not bad—Brint was conventionally good-looking and took great pains to remain as such. But there was a haggardness to his edges, a hint of bruising beneath his eyes, his Graelynder light coloring veering toward pallid.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He blew off her concern with a shrug, eyes widening as an easy grin spread across his face, the embodiment of innocence. “Never better. Tell me about Calya.”

“Why?” she said, the word coming out as confused as she felt rather than rude.

“Looking out for you. I know she was pretty mad at the way you left.”

Quite the feat, seeing as he hadn’t deigned to uphold his end of the agreement and be there to support her decision to leave. But they were supposed to be past such grievances, Dae giving him the benefit of doubt. At Sylveren, he’d been true to his word about changing. It was unkind—unfair—of her to hold on to her memories of the past. If not for Brint then for herself, for she was so tired of being on edge around him.

“We worked things out,” she said. “Calya mentioned being here to see you. Something about a joint project between HNE and AG?”

Brint gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Oh, that’s nothing. Standard protection agreement. We’ve been handling it from afar, no problem.”

That didn’t track with Calya’s thoughts on the matter, though Dae suspected the truth could be somewhere in the middle. She was out of touch with the business of either company and didn’t relish the thought of stepping back in. Still, the recent reconciliation and the joy it brought stirred in her a sense of sisterly loyalty.

“Caly mentioned something about communication troubles?” Dae said, voice tentative so as not to sound accusatory. “It must be hard given the delay with the post up here.”

A generous out, considering that Calya had been paying for expedited mail service even if Brint didn’t return such courtesy. Even relying on the slower weekly mail boat didn’t explain Brint’s choosing which of Calya’s questions to answer.

Irritation flashed across Brint’s face. “No, no. Just not as expedient as she’d like. You know how the capital is. I’m making connections up here, but the pace isn’t the same. She mentioned the project to you?” He leaned forward, all innocent curiosity once more.

“In passing. Something about a new route?”

“Using one of HNE’s newer light transports.” Brint nodded. “Did she tell you about the route?”

“No. I’m not involved with HNE anymore.”

“Of course, of course,” Brint said quickly. He sighed, a touch too theatrical. “I thought she might ask. You know the strain she’s under. How the gossip goes back home, and of course some of the less scrupulous papers like to burden her with your concerns.”

Dae’s eyes narrowed. “What concerns?”

“Leaving the family business for Sylveren. Studying magic on a whim. Their words, not mine.”

The news brought a stab of guilt. She’d known that breaking the engagement would garner some attention, but it had been over a month now. Ancient history so far as news in Central went, and Dae herself was far from high-profile. For Calya not to mention it, Dae didn’t know what to make of that.

“How are you, though?” Brint placed his hand on her arm.

“Fine,” Dae said, surprised by his focus. She indicated her report, using the motion as an excuse to free her arm from his touch. “I should get back to this.”

He ignored the hint. “Classes going all right? Not having trouble keeping up?” He gave her a conspiratorial look. “The workload here is something else compared to at Grae U, eh?”

Cold pricked her spine. “What are you—”

“Ana.” Brint’s head tilted, a beseeching smile on his lips. “I’m friends with some elementalists. It’s okay that you’re struggling.”

Brint knew about her poor grade? That he was checking up on her, that he had the means to do so—somehow, it made her throat close up. Put an ugly tint over this school she’d already come to love. Her old life, Brint’s controlling nature and how he’d molded the course she was forced to take for years, everything she thought she’d escaped now chilled her with its presence.

“I’m fine,” she protested, hating that her voice came out weak.

“I understand. Nothing to be ashamed of, you’ve never studied magic.”

“Brint, I’m—”

“Are you sure you should be doing this, though? Working on someone else’s research? You’re not really qualified.” He softened the words with a placating hand gesture, a little shrug of his shoulders and that same damned ingratiating smile.

Signs she knew so well. They didn’t charm her, having lost their power so many years ago. But being repelled didn’t stop a sense of hopelessness from growing inside. Coming to Sylveren, Dae had thought she’d escaped. From the burden of her name, from Brint. And … what if he was right?

“If you need help, I’m always here. I can show you—”

“Anadae’s abilities thus far have met all of my qualifications for the job. And, should she require any guidance, she can come to me, seeing as I am an elementalist.”

Ezzyn stood in the connecting doorway.

Meandering down the hall toward his office, Ezzyn crumpled the letter from Garethe in his hand as he read. He sent—or rather, Anadae composed and he added a top note—weekly reports back home, and in none of them thus far had he indicated that a slower approach to battling the poison was a good idea. And yet.

Garethe seemed to think that revising their current methods and working on a “long-term solution” was the takeaway from Ezzyn’s research. Slowing down, seeking aid and a “diversity of fresh opinions.” It was an evergreen topic his brother championed, gussied up in a new arrangement of words. Not a new stance, from either of them, but frustrating all the same. Ezzyn could appreciate that Garethe, being an academic and nonmagical and more inclined toward diplomacy, viewed Rhell’s blight through a wider lens. Perhaps one could even call it more pragmatic, thinking in terms of management rather than a cure. After all, Ezzyn’s zeal in combatting the poison had thus far been a losing proposition.

Muttering under his breath, he balled the letter in his fist and stuffed it into his pocket. An argument for another day. Thinking more of it now would only foul his mood and infect his work for the afternoon. But pushing his brother’s latest news to the back of his mind freed space for other thoughts. Ones lurking in the back, always present, eager to jump to the forefront.

He’d been true to his word. Backed away from her, quiet and swift. Hadn’t done anything to so much as hint at any impropriety that might have occurred between them. Nothing had, strictly speaking. Ezzyn had consulted the handbook. The university might not approve of such power imbalance relations, but it wasn’t grounds for disciplinary action. He wasn’t even truly faculty, seeing as he was there to assist on Garethe’s behalf. As far as Anadae’s concern, the naked distrust on her face when she’d asked if he’d cause problems … it rankled. That she’d thought he might.

Ezzyn knew it was rich of him to be disgruntled over Anadae questioning his honor, seeing as he’d … encouraged … their tryst under less-than-ideal circumstances. But she’d been a willing, if slightly underinformed, participant. It might’ve been a lie by omission, but he hadn’t spoken any outright falsities. She’d been understandably upset, and he’d walked away as he’d intended.

He hadn’t gone very far, in a figurative sense. The seminar was easier; the presence of others made treating her as any other student a simple ask. Perhaps he went further than that, all but ignoring her unless courtesy required otherwise.

Her position as his research assistant was another matter. He hadn’t expected her to keep the position, though in hindsight he acknowledged that her situation didn’t allow much choice. But having her so close multiple times a week drove him to distraction. Avoiding the lab only worked so much. Those damned notes. It was absurd how a few lines on paper could affect his mood. Brighten it. How they could occupy his thoughts. It took long hours and late nights burying himself in research to get his head back on straight.

A wave and her unguarded, smiling face was all it had taken to undo him. Even though it had only taken her a second to remember herself, even though she’d run from him, it didn’t matter. The privacy of his own mind didn’t let him fight back the memories any longer—set him awash in a hedonistic nightmare that had his cock semihard all fucking day.

The thought of her. The taste. The beautiful moment when she’d set her vulnerability aside, empowerment transcending. She’d chosen to have that night with him, too. Her idea of him. Ezzyn had made sure she enjoyed herself. And she’d asked him to stay, if only until morning. What a mistake he had made in doing so. It ruined him, the way she’d held his hand in her sleep. Put a spike of jealousy under his skin to know that he couldn’t have such intimacy with her again.

Having her compliment his size was a nice memory, too. The kind that made his head swell. Other body parts, too. He’d meant what he’d said; Avenor should be fucking jailed for turning his back on her.

“…not really qualified. If you need help, I’m always here.”

Ezzyn didn’t even think. He’d meant to have a cautious glance to make sure his office was safe, Anadae-free, but Avenor’s grating, familiar voice overrode all else. He could only be talking to one other person. Sinking his hooks into her yet again.

Ezzyn was in the doorway and interrupting them before his brain caught up.

The pair stared at him, momentarily shocked. Ezzyn gave Avenor a perfunctory nod before turning his attention to Anadae. “Do you have a moment? We need to discuss the timetable for the slow-release experiment.”

Anadae nodded at once. “I’m at a good stopping point. Brint, could you please?” She gestured toward the door.

Avenor made a production of getting to his feet. “Sure. I’m here for you if need anything.” His nod to Ezzyn was mocking, but he lumbered off without more fuss.

Ezzyn watched him go, his nose wrinkling. He joined Anadae at her desk but didn’t sit.

Her mouth curved up. “Slow-release experiment?”

He snorted. “It is real, just not ready for live testing yet. But it worked, didn’t it?” He paused, awareness sweeping in. “Did I overstep? It didn’t sound like a pleasant conversation.”

“It wasn’t.” Her smile wavered. “Thank you.”

“Not at all.” Ezzyn turned to leave. His traitorous feet wouldn’t take him a step. He swung back to face her. “He’s wrong, by the way. You’re plenty qualified for this job. You’re an intuitive mage, Anadae.”

Her smile took on a bemused quality. “How would you know? We’ve hardly done any practical application in seminar yet.”

“I did tutor you in magic, once upon a time.”

“That was years ago,” she said with a laugh. “We weren’t really doing anything deep.”

He hesitated, then shrugged. It wasn’t a secret, not anymore. “Your drink. At the social.”

Her eyes widened in realization. She looked down, blushing. “Right. I’d forgotten … that part.” She bit her lip to corral a smile. A smile, a true one.

It sent a liquid warmth through him to know that the memory of them caused her a soft fluster. A bit of shyness. It reminded him of the other times he’d made her blush that night. How he wanted to have her do it again.

Fuck. If this continued, he was going to embarrass himself pitching a tent in his trousers.

“I’ll work on a new list for you,” he said, motioning toward the paper laid out before her.

“Ezzyn,” she said, voice soft, almost like a question. “Thank you. For everything.”

He looked at her, into her eyes, the closest they’d been in weeks. “I meant it,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t hurt you—your spot here.”

“I…” She ducked her head, smiled to herself. Looked back up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I didn’t think you would. Either time.”

Her voice fell away toward the end. Went throaty. Minx.

He reached past her for the research log, moving too fast in his rattled state. “This can wait. It’s not—”

The log fell off the desk, whisking away along the hardwood floor. Underneath was another paper filled with Anadae’s distinctive, neat handwriting.

“What is—” Ezzyn only managed a glimpse before Anadae grabbed it, a flush high in her cheeks.

“Nothing! Just some random notes.”

“Stealing my research?” he joked, amusement warm in his tone. “It won’t get you very far as a water mage, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not stealing,” she huffed. “They’re just … notes.”

He waited. Sighing, she relented and let him have the paper. Ezzyn scanned it. “A lot of questions here.” When she didn’t answer, he prodded. “Were you planning on asking me?”

“When?” she said. “During our low-interaction meetings?”

He winced. “I am sorry, Anadae,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have deceived you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed. Her hands curled against the desk. She breathed a quiet laugh. “As I said before, let’s just move on.”

“Pretend it never happened?” he said in a wry tone.

Anadae raised her brows. “I think moving on is enough.”

His cock swelled.

Clearing his throat, Ezzyn held up her paper full of notes. “Since I don’t have anything for you today, why don’t we spend your usual time going over these?”

Anadae blinked, surprised. A new smile lit her face. “I’d like that. Very much.”

Mentally reprimanding his cock to behave, Ezzyn took a seat.