Chapter 14

E zzyn spoke to her now. Small things, an encouraging nod during class, follow-up questions and the like. Greetings that weren’t short, monosyllabic utterances when she showed up to work in the lab. It should’ve been awkward, a reinforcement of how little they’d been interacting, but a natural rhythm settled into place instead. More often than not, he stayed, and though they still tended to focus on the work, theirs was a comfortable form of quiet. One that was easy enough to break for a comment or clarification, relaxed farewells when her time was up or he was called away. They weren’t sudden friends, but the icy wall that had divided them thawed after his intervention with Brint. They had spent hours going over her questions on his research thus far and the applications of magic in general. And though he was still annoyingly superior about utilizing fire first, he didn’t condescend her asking. Nor could she argue with the speed at which he obtained results. Yet.

Even Zhenya noticed something had changed, commenting as much while they exited the seminar two weeks after the Brint incident.

“Does Mr. Sor’vahl seem different lately?” Zhenya asked.

“Different? No. What do you mean?” Dae said, the words spilling out too fast for normalcy.

Zhenya, sweet and guileless, didn’t seem to notice. She rummaged in her bag, saying in an absent tone, “Just seems like he talks more in class these days. I know he’s not a professor, but before it felt like he was only here because he’s contractually obligated. I didn’t think he actually knew my name, but he’s seen my proposal for the Rhell trip already.”

“You’ve already submitted your proposal?” The fluttery feeling Dae got when thinking about Ezzyn—something she valiantly tried to ignore—replaced itself with a wave of mild panic. If the committee was already reviewing proposals, would hers stand a chance by the time she got it in? If she ever finished it. Which required starting.

“Just an outline. Notes I was working on with Professor Rai.” Zhenya blushed. “I know it’s kind of early.”

Dae had always prided herself on never missing a deadline at Helm Naval. Considered herself punctual and studious. Then she’d met Zhenya, who quite possibly would’ve gone on existing in a constant cycle of study, class, and research work without pause if not for Eunny, and now Dae, dragging her out on occasion to have a social life. Which Dae found ironic, since she hadn’t enjoyed a purely social outing that wasn’t tangentially related to work or Brint in years before she’d come to Sylveren.

“No, it’s just, I haven’t even started mine.” Dae gave her a weak smile. “Did E—Mr. Sor’vahl have feedback for you?”

“Yea, some suggestions on narrowing my scope. Thinks I’m trying to include too many schools of magic.”

Dae’s smile was more genuine at hearing Zhenya’s confession. Zhenya seemed to collect information on every type of magic as a magpie gathered a trove of jewels. Though never one to claim that any school of magic was inherently better than another, she did have an uncanny ability to work earth magic into anything. A feat Dae envied, and had already benefited from a time or two when Zhenya’s knowledge on earth and water synergy had helped Dae understand an article.

“He said he’s experimented with purified soil and it doesn’t work. I still think there’s something to interdisciplinary works, maybe layering spells to blunt the transplant shock to the roots. It worked with my experiments on the lake, but I can’t really simulate the same conditions here as in Rhell.” Zhenya waved at the vast expanse of Sylvanor Lake outside their window.

Something flickered in the back of Dae’s mind, there and gone before she could fully grasp it. Like an almost-remembered word balancing on the tip of her tongue. She gazed out the window at the lake, her step faltering.

Zhenya stopped, not realizing she’d lost Dae until she’d gone a few steps ahead. “You all right?”

“Yea,” Dae said, voice faint. The lake beckoned, a whisper of waves sliding over rock gentle in her ears. “I just had a— I’ve got to check a … theory. I’ll see you later?”

Zhenya, no stranger to such bolts of inspiration, simply nodded. “Good luck.”

Making a sharp turn from her original path to the library, Dae opted for a side door in the Towers’ atrium. Drawing her cloak tight against the impending cold, she almost bumped shoulders as another figure came down the adjacent stairwell and made for the same exit.

“Excuse me, I didn’t—” Ezzyn drew up in surprise upon seeing Dae’s face beneath her hood. “Going out?” he asked, holding the door for her.

Dae murmured her thanks, stepping in front of him. She pressed her eyes closed for a moment, willing herself not to appear too … anything. It was a polite question, all the more reasonable since he knew she wasn’t heading back toward her room.

“I had a—feeling, about the lake,” she said. Her fingers wrapped tight around her arms, hidden beneath her cloak. She readied herself for skepticism, disbelief. A lack of interest or condescension that she would have any magical inkling of note.

Ezzyn fell into step beside her. “The lake,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

“Where are you going?” she asked instead of expanding.

“I was going back to housing. Belle Complex, for full disclosure.”

That startled a laugh from her, made her hands fall back to her sides. “For full disclosure?”

“I figure it’s only fair. Knowing where I live,” he said, nonchalant. “Seeing as I know—”

Dae flapped her wrist at him. “Yea, yea, I caught up there at the end. Aren’t you a gentleman.”

“Not a prince?”

Dae snorted. They reached a crossroads, one path leading toward the faculty housing of Belle Complex, the other to a small gate that let out to a side road down to the lake.

They both hesitated, then Ezzyn turned away. “I hope your feeling is successful.”

“Thanks.” Dae took a few steps toward the gate. Stopped. “Unless, did you want to come?”

He regarded her in silence, indecision writ large across his face. Turmoil. Desire battling with better sense. Dae almost broke the tense quiet, nervousness making her palms sweat. She didn’t; she waited, keeping the spring of hope buried deep at the back of her mind where she couldn’t question what it might mean.

Ezzyn rejoined her. His mouth opened, but instead of something pithy or smooth, he paused for a long moment, finally uttering a simple, “Yes.”

They made the short trek to the lake, the conversation an easy back and forth about classes and the university itself. Ezzyn had no shame in admitting that Sylveren outclassed the schools of Rhell. Not that saying so was a grand admission; Sylveren was the premier place of magical study this side of the Great Sea, thanks to the power of its wellspring and the favor the valley enjoyed from the Child’s lingering presence. Rhell had excellent focus programs in earth studies, and across the sea in the Radiant Isles they had enviable opportunities for water elementalist work. But Sylveren and the Valley were special. Dae had enjoyed her time at Grae University well enough, but she didn’t miss it, either. Yet even with less than a year in this place, she knew she would carry a fondness for it always.

She stopped at the water’s edge, lifting her face to the oft-present wind. They enjoyed a break in the rain, the air still alive with a whisper of moisture. It pulled at her senses, something in her mind lighting up to feel so much water. She raised her hand, wrist performing a slow twirl. Dewy strands gathered in the air, curling around her fingers.

She dismissed the trace of magic with a gentle dashing motion. If she concentrated hard enough, listened with a quiet mind, she could hear the hum of magic all around. Feel how the lake itself was alive with latent power. The echo of it reverberated in her center, in the tiny sphere where her magic beat like a second, smaller heart.

Ezzyn watched her, his expression intent. Captivated.

“What?” Dae said, self-conscious. Her eyes went back to the water as she pushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s my first time coming out here.”

His brows went up, expression sliding back to relaxed. “We’ve been here for six weeks already.”

It was her turn for a calm shrug. “I’ve been busy. Some of us have to work at this.”

“It’ll come.” He toed at the rocky stretch of shore where they stood. “You have a general feel for your magic. The book learning will sort itself out with time.”

“How can you tell?”

He raised his hand and made a similar gesture as she had, summoning a thread of flame instead of water. He dismissed it with a wave. “Intuitive. Some people can only do that if they follow the instructions of a spell telling them exactly what they should feel, and even then, only if the instructions happen to make sense to them. I’m not saying direction won’t help, but you don’t need it to do magic.”

Dae didn’t share his confidence. He didn’t have a large body of fire at his fingertips to pull from. He’d called it using his own energy as the source. On a drier day, away from the lake, she might not have been able to pull water from thin air at all. That was Professor-Vaadt-level of skill. Most times, Dae felt barely above the kind of mage that could only summon a touch of light to their fingers.

“Sometimes,” she murmured, shy and a little sad, “I’m worried it’s too late. That I’m too old to be trying to do—” What? Not simply magic. Not even the academics part—her path wasn’t common, but returning to school wasn’t unheard of. Dae wasn’t a trailblazer in that regard. But she’d wanted more than to further herself. Dared to dream big.

“Do?” Ezzyn said, drawing out the word, tone encouraging.

“Good.” Her smile was closer to a wince. “Something good. Even if not grand, prove that I can make something of myself that is more than my family’s name. Ridiculous, right? No real schooling, and I’m not a prodigy. It’s too late, isn’t it? I’m going to be thirty soon—”

“Gods all break, not that,” Ezzyn said dryly. “I’m thirty-four. Don’t get the shovel out just yet.”

She glowered at him. “Says he of three tiers of Magister’s levels.”

“Technically only two since—”

Dae flicked her fingers at him, pulling a splash of water from the air.

He laughed, vaporizing her attack with a pinching motion and a brief lick of flame. “When you have a moment from carrying the world on your ancient shoulders, grandmother,” he said, “I’m curious what your feeling about the lake was.”

Dae pondered a moment. Tried to recall the gossamer-thin thought that Zhenya’s chatter had evoked. It wasn’t there, still too unformed in the whirlpool of Dae’s mind. A slurry of words that hadn’t yet coalesced to form a discrete idea.

She faced the lake, letting the tacit water magic lap at her senses. “What does it feel like in Rhell? Magic.”

There was a universality to the nature of water wherever she went, a familiarity that was inherent to the element. Water was water was water. Yet there was an undercurrent to its presence in her mind, a soft note that felt distinct to the Valley. It was the sensation of the wind on her face, the scent of rain, of so much gray but also green. It was all so lush, bundled into a calmness that she registered on some level as being the unique signature of the Valley itself. Inherently different from the brine and bustling feel of Grae Port’s harbor.

Ezzyn didn’t speak for a moment. Dae turned back to him, but he was gazing out across the valley toward the Gyo-Sohn mountains forming the border with Rhell.

He sighed. “It used to feel like … spring. Brighter than here, less gray. Less wet.” A tiny smile traced across his lips.

Used. Before Eylle and its targeted poison and the assault on Rhell’s wellspring. Dae felt as if she should apologize for asking something so painful, but Ezzyn went on.

“Nowhere else is the same as the Valley’s claim, but Rhell used to feel alive in its own way. Has its own sense of belonging.” His laugh was more of a hoarse exhale. “Being here feels like betrayal, because it feels like home now. Untouchable. Healthy.”

She didn’t know what to say in response. Everything felt too simple, empty words that were little more than platitudes. Nothing he hadn’t heard before, could do anything with. But she could listen, encouraging him with a small nod.

“My brother—Garethe in this case, though I know Jeron is of similar mind … I know they want the best for Rhell. They’d love the poison gone as much as the rest of us. But they’re thinking like statesmen. Talking about slower, more cost-effective approaches to managing the spread. They want to bring in more researchers from outside, as if we haven’t tried that before.” He let out a harsh breath. “Maybe they’ve forgotten how some members of our vaunted Alliance suggested the land was a lost cause. That it was more realistic to strategize on what to do with a bunch of refugees instead.”

“They didn’t,” Anadae exclaimed, both horrified and incensed. “That was said to the Lower Council?”

“A few years ago. Informally, but it was a member of the Council of Standards. Borders division,” Ezzyn said.

“That’s horrible,” Anadae murmured. “But clearly that person is a fool and thinks only of politics. If your brothers are talking of new research, wouldn’t that be a more scholarly approach? That’s different.”

Ezzyn’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “They’re calling it the Rhell Accord, as if that makes it better. A plan that’s built around coping with the poison rather than curing. As if we aren’t already forced to do that.”

“Your research already uses the work of other schools of magic,” Dae said. “Would better incorporation be so bad?”

“Maybe not, but—” He paused, blinked. “Better incorporation?”

“You do like to burn things first.”

“It’s most efficient.”

“Maybe. But your research trials are divided into so many separate steps. We get pre-treated soil from the Grove, you burn it, we implement earth magic, you burn it again,” Dae said. “This Accord could be a new way to bring in collaboration.”

Ezzyn turned away, but not fast enough for her to miss his grimace.

“You want to work alone that much?” she murmured.

“No,” he admitted. “But shifting focus to a plan built on management rather than eradication is akin to accepting defeat. Your family is in both business and politics, surely you know how such a plan will take over. The slow approach will become the only one, and all belief of curing the poison will die.”

“You wouldn’t let it,” Dae said. He looked unconvinced, a bleakness on his face. She pressed on. “You wouldn’t, and neither would so many others. When was the last time you actually looked in the Grove’s greenhouses? Bioremediation isn’t a passing interest.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said. He tipped his head back, eyes closing for a brief moment. “I feel … safe, here. Like I can finally rest. And sometimes I hate everything for it, because it makes me not want to go back.”

Then don’t, she wanted to say. But the words remained safely kept behind closed lips. It wasn’t her place. Was a selfish thought, one she didn’t entirely understand for the intense emotion that welled up in her chest at having thought it. Or perhaps she was starting to fathom it, the nascent feelings trying to plant themselves into her heart when she thought of him. Things that could never be allowed. Third-born prince or not, of a kingdom that moved further from a monarchal legacy every day or not, Ezzyn was still a son of Rhell.

When Dae looked at him, she saw a bone-deep weariness wrapped around a fatalistic, determined core. An interior that didn’t need words to say how there was no room for anything else.

A gust of wind kicked up, bringing with it a fresh bout of rain. It startled Dae from her melancholic thoughts, making her wobble, arms flailing for balance to keep from falling into the lake.

Ezzyn caught her hand, pulling Dae clear of the water’s edge. She took a stumbling step into his chest. His arm went around her shoulders to keep her from falling. It remained there even after she’d regained her balance, lingered several beats longer than mere courtesy warranted.

“Are you all right?” he said, slowly letting her go.

Dae stepped back with similar reticence. “Yea. Thanks.”

Her pulse ticked up, the sound building in her ears, heart thumping against the cage of her ribs. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he could feel it through both of their cloaks.

His hand flexed, as if he’d fought an urge to reach out. Touch her arm. Instead, he stuffed it into his pocket. “Shall we?” He jerked his head to indicate the path back to the university.

Dae started to agree, when a pulse emanated from the lake. Subtle, just a flicker at the back of her mind, but unequivocally there this time.

Without pausing to question the strange urge, she spun around and went back to the lakeshore. She squatted down and pressed her palms to the water’s surface. For the briefest of moments, it felt as if the lake pressed back. Held her hands in its own watery ones.

And then the moment passed, the icy embrace of the water and reality of her cloak hem getting soaked reclaiming her attention. She reached out with her magic, casting her awareness out like a net. Nothing caught. Everything felt as it had before, uniquely the Valley but not … more.

“Sorry, I—” Dae turned back to see Ezzyn with a knowing smile on his face. “What?”

“The Valley made up its mind about you.”

Dae stared at him, at her hands. Held them out to catch the raindrops falling. “I thought for a second—but it doesn’t feel different now.”

Ezzyn shrugged, gesturing toward the road back to the school once again. “It’s subtle. Rite of passage.”

Dae stepped onto the road, mindful of the neutral amount of distance between them. She mulled over his words. The Valley had accepted her. She held back the urge to skip. Maybe had a bounce for just a step or two.

She could’ve sworn Ezzyn hid a snort under the guise of clearing his throat.