Chapter 18

F resh off the buzz of her lakeside discovery, Dae penned her proposal for the spring field opportunity in a handful of days. The heady sense of invincibility, however, lost a touch of its glow when Dae found herself seated across from Vaadt and the proposal left the safety of her own desk. Cold reality set in as Dae watched her advisor add her paper to the same envelope bearing Vaadt’s personal correspondence to the elder Sor’vahl brothers.

“What?” Vaadt said, glancing up as they sifted through the papers and books on the desk as if searching for something. “Worried you spelled something wrong?”

“More like I’m questioning everything written.” Dae nudged the sealing stamp out from where it had been partially hidden beneath a loose scroll. “Shouldn’t that be sent with the other students’ proposals?”

“Think of it as my vote of confidence. Sor’vahl knows that I don’t choose or encourage mediocrity.” Vaadt called a spark of light into their fingers as they pressed the stamp to a bead of blue wax on the envelope.

“But you didn’t even read the latest version.”

“Has it changed so much from what you showed me yesterday?” Vaadt asked dryly. The stamp let off one feeble spark. Vaadt made an annoyed sound, whacking it against the desk. “Blasted thing. Swear on the Everflow, these things act up on purpose if you’re a water mage.”

Dae winced as Vaadt ground the stamp against the wax. “Not really, no. Mostly clarifying language.”

“Then off it goes. Finally!” Vaadt huffed with satisfaction as the seal flared like a heated poker. It melted the wax bead with ease, then snuffed itself out when Vaadt tapped the top with a glowing finger. “This guarantees Jeron will actually see it.”

“Can you do that?”

Vaadt snorted. “I’m teaching the seminar, I should think so.”

Dae ducked her head, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean— Of course you can—”

“I’ve already told Jeron of a few students worth keeping an eye on.” Vaadt made a dismissive gesture. “You never put in a good word for someone during your work for Helm Naval?”

“Well, yes, but I was hardly at the top of leadership.”

“You flatter me. While we’ll deliberate as a team, the origins of how this arrived”—Vaadt poked the envelope—“aren’t likely to be remembered when final decisions are made months from now.”

Dae laughed again, the nervousness easing from her tone.

“You’re still young—don’t make that face at me, Miss Helm—still plenty young and new to this. Take every sort of referral you can get. Nothing comes easy in this line of work.” Vaadt settled back in their chair. “Now, you’ve got the scope of your work defined for the rest of the year. How is the practical application coming along?”

By the time Dae left Vaadt’s office, her previous glow had been doused with reality. But any trepidation she felt was eased by the knowledge that she had all of winter to figure out how to do the things she’d so confidently stated in writing. They were in autumn’s late clutches; spring was forever away. What she’d lost in naivete was replaced with determination to face the coming winter head-on.

Which made it easy to slip away to Sylvan without guilt, even though a week had passed since her catalyzing moment with Ezzyn at the lake and she still couldn’t reliably cast an ice-targeting spell. She met Eunny at their customary table at the back of the Mighty Leaf, buzzing with nervous energy. Her agreement with Ezzyn called for discretion, but this was Eunny. Surely best friends didn’t count?

“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” Eunny said. “Why so quiet?”

“I—” Dae hesitated, fiddling with her scarf as she pulled it free of her neck. “I, um, something happened.”

“Something to do with the hickey on your neck?” Eunny smirked.

“What?” Dae’s hands flew up. “No. I don’t have— I covered—”

“I can recommend some concealment balm. Now, answer please. Whomst?”

Dae fought back the ridiculous grin that wanted to sprout across her face. “Ezzyn,” she whispered.

“It’s about time,” Eunny said.

Dae sputtered, half a dozen responses emerging as little more than wordless, indignant noise. Eunny merely gave her an expectant look.

“That’s what you have to say?”

Eunny’s smile was sly behind her teacup. “Do you want to go into detail? Vicarious living isn’t my thing, but for you, I’ll adjust.”

Heat flared in Dae’s cheeks. Her gaze dropped as she bit her lip. “No.”

“You sure? You were due for a fulfilling relationship. I’m a good listener.”

“It’s not a—a relationship,” Dae protested. “It’s just—”

“Sex, with a man you’ve ogled since we were teenagers.”

“I didn’t ogle. He was my tutor.”

“You say that like they’re mutually exclusive.” She waved away Dae’s protest. “You’re sleeping with someone you like.”

“Better than someone I hate, don’t you think?”

“I don’t have anything against casual.” Eunny leaned closer, her light manner giving way to concern. “This just sounds like the kind of thing that leads to feelings, and those can become problems if you don’t want a relationship.”

Dae wilted, her eyes on her hands and how they curled tight around her teacup. “I know. But I can’t— I’m not thinking about it like that. We’re not. It’s nothing. Just a bit of fun. The boundaries are set, and when it’s over, we can keep going on being reasonable humans after.”

“Then cheers.” Eunny raised her cup. “Just remember, I’ve got undisturbed wildlands and a shovel. I choose you.”

Dae nearly choked on her tea as she tried to laugh and swallow at the same time. “You’re too good to me.”

“I am. And I better still see you on occasion even though you have a not-relationship now.”

“Of course,” Dae exclaimed. “The sanctity of our meal dates remains. This—this thing between Ezzyn and me, it’s not serious.”

Being an intuitive mage and the demands of multidisciplinary spellwork, especially ones needed to be reproduced at scale, threatened to break Dae’s brain. Vaadt had her practicing targeting drills in addition to continuing with her layering spellwork, requiring Dae to record the method and aim of her techniques. Activities that her intuitive skill failed at. Which was galling, considering that she’d done report work for Helm Naval before her engagement to Brint took her more into the societal realm. But trying to transcribe the feeling of wrapping her mind and magic around the kernels of poison, how she just knew the way of injecting them with a level of ice she felt deep in her bones? It didn’t translate.

After months of floundering about, Dae abandoned her attempts at spellwriting. If her textbooks were anything to go by, magic didn’t conform well to precise instructions so much as general recipes anyway. One could list the materials they worked with, but in the end, it came down to gut feeling and ability, and maybe an affinity toward applying theory to practice. Zhenya was gifted at the latter, Dae was not.

She shifted her efforts to working on imbuing Ezzyn’s slow-release wards with her layering spells. He’d been right that ward usage was common enough practice, and one she’d practiced a little bit already. Except, she still didn’t have an ironclad grasp of either the layering technique or her targeting spell, and time became an increasingly sparse commodity as finals and the end of the semester began its slow approach. It was a good week for her if she managed to escape down to town to see Eunny for dinner. The majority of Dae’s social life became studying with Zhenya in the library. Helpful, to a point, for Zhenya believed the answer to everything existed in a book, and she’d heaped several upon Dae to help with her research. Not as helpful in that Dae was barely managing to skim the readings for her own classes, much less find time to do a deep dive on a new text. Her only morbid spot of relief came in seeing that her classmates seemed equally harried.

Except, perhaps not her only relief.

“Why did you encourage me in this?” she grumbled.

Ezzyn chuckled as he pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder. “I seem to recall you throwing a snowball at my window.”

“Yes, but you could’ve spoken against the idea. Let me fail.”

“Perhaps I wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

Dae pretended to gag as she stuffed her book into his face. They were enjoying a rare quiet weekend morning together, the first since the carefree two days they’d had at the start of this … arrangement. The word seemed too neat, too cold, but calling it a relationship didn’t fit, either. Their time defied such warm thoughts when, in ten weeks, she hadn’t managed to stay overnight again until just now. No expectations, no feelings. Her experience with relationships might’ve been skewed by so many years stuck with Brint, but when she was creeping back to her place after a desperate hour or two with Ezzyn, or kicking him out late at night because she had an early morning cram session, their situation didn’t seem like the real thing.

“It’s coming along. Your layering enchantments have a decent success rate, and the ice additions had promising results in the last trial.” Ezzyn set the book aside. “Now, no more studying. We had a deal, Anadae.”

A sheepish grin snuck across her face even as she protested. “You were asleep!”

Ezzyn tutted. “You were the one who insisted on boundaries.”

“Now I see why you were so agreeable only if there were penalties.” She made a show of contrariness as she went to her knees before him. Dae had insisted on a number of stipulations if their arrangement was to work. She’d figured Ezzyn would argue, or that they would realize trying to have a discreet casual sex plan was simpler said than done. How could they go from sleeping together to colleagues in the lab or classroom?

With relative ease, it turned out. It annoyed her to discover that she was more the problem—Ezzyn seemed to go from personal to professional as if flipping an internal switch. She was the awkward one, at first. Blushing at inopportune moments. Getting flustered during seminar. Trouble concentrating when they were in the lab. He had been patient, the serious one, keeping them on track.

Only during their brief trysts did he tease her for it. Made something of a game of any lapses. No play at work or work at play. Loser paid for it on their knees. Or back. Not that either truly “lost,” literally or figuratively. Dae was a quick study in compartmentalizing, and regrettably, they hadn’t had much time together for distractions to bleed in. It was almost similar to the middling phase with Brint, the times when they would come together for short, heated moments before returning to distance.

Almost. Brint was never warm, there only enough for physical needs to be met, Dae an afterthought. Ezzyn was present, always. Sometimes sweet, other times demanding, never dismissive. Still looked at her with the same desire as the night of the masquerade. Even though theirs was an arrangement of just sex, the original condition of no expectations hanging in the air, she never felt like a piece of meat to him. They didn’t speak of relationships or feelings or of the possibility of more.

But she thought about it. Subconsciously at first, then against her will once she’d noticed. Little things: how tender he was with her, even in the times when they were quick and rough. Gentle touches. The way he held on to her, lingered, savored. Remained enthusiastic as ever to kiss her. He didn’t speak of attachment, yet his praise made her feel like the center of his world.

Even now, as she swallowed him down to the base, he caressed the side of her face. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

She sucked on him, humming in pleasure. Worked her way back up to his tip, laving the ridge beneath his cockhead with the speed and pressure she’d learned he liked best. She softened her throat for him, welcoming his thrusts. Didn’t spill a drop when he came, satisfaction warm in her belly to hear how he groaned her name. How passionately he kissed her after. Brint had never done such things. From him, she hadn’t wanted them.

It made Dae comfort herself as she redressed, indulging the thought that maybe they could. That this could be real. It was all in her head, just secret and pretend. Thoughts never to be spoken. And yet. She was due to spend the afternoon at Eunny’s repair café. Maybe catch up on the neglected last two letters she’d had from Calya. Activities of Dae’s real life, not this carefully constructed duality with Ezzyn. Work and play. Their lives beyond those two boundaries of the school were off limits. It was a path that led to expectations. She couldn’t have that. Didn’t want it.

And yet. “It’s an open craft day at Song’s Scrap,” she heard herself say. “I’m stopping by for a few hours.” She didn’t pause in the gathering of her books and random extra belongings she’d managed to scatter around his kitchen. From the corner of her eye, Ezzyn went still.

“I don’t know how much use I’d be. I’m not particularly handy or crafty,” he said with a rueful shake of his head.

“Eunny’ll find a way to put you to work,” Dae said before her brain caught up. Had she overstepped? Crossed the invisible line they’d agreed upon? Mistaken his polite deflection as doubt rather than discomfort and thus made everything worse?

“But maybe that’s a reason not to go,” she added, forcing a smile. “I’m sure you have a hundred things to do before winter break. Gods all know I do, so this isn’t really wise time management or—”

“Anadae.” His voice was soft, gentle. “I don’t want to infringe on your time with your friends.”

“I know,” she said, all brightness, biting the inside of her lip to keep her smile intact. “I appreciate that. Truly. I was afraid this might—but it’s good. We’re good.”

She had to get out of there before her babbling made her do something irreparable. Dae stuffed a last paper into her bag and went toward the door.

“I’ve got study group tomorrow, so I’ll see you when I come in for the lab.” She waved, slipping out the door as he murmured a reply.

Excellent fucking idea, Ana, she thought, stalking back to Vanas House. She’d broken a rule—of their agreement but also one of her own. One she hadn’t paid any attention and had thus forgotten. The nascent little thoughts, the silly daydreams that had lived in her head. That were supposed to stay there, where she could play out the scenarios of a relationship with Ezzyn and have it remain make-believe.

If it was all pretend, she didn’t have to envision what it would be like when he said no.

Eunny put her to work darning holes in a pile of knitwear, from hard-wearing sweaters to a pair of child-size mittens.

“It doesn’t have to be pretty, just functional,” Eunny said.

“Be lucky to get that,” Dae muttered.

They sat toward the side of the café so Eunny could keep an eye on patrons as they attempted to fix whatever they had brought in. She had a crate full of more gardening tools to clean and sharpen for the Grove, though progress was slow as she kept being called away. Only once Yerina stopped by with refreshments did Eunny make it back to Dae’s table.

“Sorry. Gransen was supposed to help run this, but he had to help with something at the school,” Eunny said, sitting heavily in her chair. “I should’ve cancelled. Open craft, not you.”

“It’s good that you didn’t. People like this place.” Dae waved her darning needle at a group working on projects together at the café’s main table.

“Everything okay with you?” Eunny peered at her. “You seem … off.”

Dae shook her head. “Just tired. Finals. Working on my seminar project.”

“What about work?” Eunny said, tone too innocent.

A pang of regret tightened Dae’s chest. She ignored it, made herself smile. “He’s fine. The experiments are going well.”

“Are you two doing well?”

Dae’s laugh was more genuine. “Yes, nosy.”

They would keep on as they had been, and she would drown out any wistful thoughts of the future. There was nothing wrong with the arrangement as it was. And … if she had damaged it today, if he wanted out, she’d survive. Could go back to friendly terms. If she could manage it with godsdamned Brint Avenor then, surely, she could with Ezzyn.

“You have seemed less stressed since you started sleeping with him.”

Dae blushed. “I will stab you with this needle.”

Eunny’s reply was interrupted by the repair café’s door opening again. Ezzyn and Zhenya walked in, the latter of whom gave a cheery wave in their direction before going to the other side of the café to make use of the ancient stack cutter Eunny had taken in.

“Don’t cut your hand off!” Eunny called out as Ezzyn walked over to their table. “Sor’vahl. Haven’t seen you at one of these before.”

He inclined his head. “I have it on good authority you can find a use for me.”

Eunny cast a sidelong glance at Dae, then back to Ezzyn. “In fact, I can.” She went to the rear counter and returned with a carefully packed box of pottery. All bore cracks or were broken into pieces. Eunny held up a handful of slim rods that resembled a mix between an ink stick and metallic pigment. “Got these sealant sticks from a Radiant Isles merchant, but you need precise heat to work them.”

Ezzyn sat next to Dae. “I’m hardly a potter, but I’ll do my best.”

Eunny gave him the sealant stick’s applicator with a warning that the enchantment was acting up, then bustled off to check on patrons.

“Anadae,” he said, his usual greeting when they met at the school. His eyebrows went up as he glanced at the mitten in her hands.

“Ezzyn.” Dae had graduated to attempting decorative embroidery in mending, with less than artistic results. I didn’t think you’d come, she wanted to say.

But he had. He was here, and carrying on the friendly but neutral manner of their public interactions. Only a quick, small half-smile, one side of his mouth rounding his cheek, belied the depth of their familiarity.

It eased the flicker of nerves that had gathered under her skin. Emboldened her to give him a mock haughty look as she attempted to stitch a flower petal with an elaborate flourish. “Do you have a secret life as an art critic I don’t know about?”

He snorted. “Is that art?”

They worked easily, Ezzyn’s presence fitting in a way that had the wistful side of Dae’s brain acting up. He griped to Eunny about the shoddy enchantment on the applicator. She told him not to be a snob.

“I’m a Magister Two elementalist with a specialization in fire. I’m qualified to be a snob.”

He ended up tossing the applicator and using his magic, honing it to a fine point so only the tip of the sealant stick was heated. He fused each piece of pottery in the box with pearlescent lines of gold and silver and copper, all while chatting with the women.

“Do researchers get their assistants gifts for their birthdays or is that breaching some rule of Sylveren’s ethics?” Eunny said, dodging Dae’s kick under the table.

“Your birthday is soon?” Ezzyn said, his eyes on the vase he was repairing, tone mild. “You should’ve mentioned it.”

After glaring at Eunny, Dae said, “Over winter break. Don’t listen to her—I’m not big on celebrations.”

“Something small, then. This is a momentous one, isn’t it?”

“Very. Thirty,” Eunny said. She laughed when Dae tried to stomp on her foot.

“Ahh, ancient.” Ezzyn set the finished vase on the table and indicated the now-empty box. “Done.”

“Show off,” Eunny muttered.

Ezzyn bowed. Offering to return the pottery to its owner at the university, he left soon after.

“Okay,” Eunny said as they watched him disappear in the street. “I can see why you’re so gone for him.”

Dae’s hand jerked, breaking her thread. “I’m not gone for him.”

“Oh, but you are.” Eunny flapped a hand at her. “That’s not a complaint. He runs circles around Brint.”

“When the bar is Brint, it’s rather low.”

“True. But look at you, leveling up. Going for royalty.” Eunny laughed. “Maybe HNE will name a ship after you two.”

“We’re not— Rhell’s monarchy isn’t—” Dae said, refutations piling up in her head.

“I’m kidding,” Eunny said. “You seem happy with him. I couldn’t ask for more for you.”

Dae gave weak smile. “We’re just … it’s not serious.”

Eunny’s look was full of amusement and pity. “If you say so.” She got up again to check on a pair of aspiring woodworkers hacking away at a bowl.

Dae gazed down at the second mitten in her hands without really seeing it. Eunny may have said it in jest, but there was an inkling of truth. Ornamental or not, Ezzyn was a prince. Inroads with Helm Naval would be useful to Rhell, setting her up to be overshadowed and used once again, even if for a more noble cause than Brint’s ego or Dae’s fear of disappointing her family.

But … no. Dae gave herself a shake, picked up her sewing needle, and started in again on her design. Ezzyn had never mentioned Helm Naval to her, never so much as hinted at the possibility of favors for Rhell. Not once, and they’d spent countless hours in the lab, searching for ways to help his homeland.

She told herself those things—those facts—as she finished up at the café and walked back to campus. But she was unable to banish the sinking feeling in her chest, until she rounded the corner toward her room and saw a vase nestled against her door. A bouquet of silver primroses with blue speckling peeked up around a nest of glossy green foliage. The Rainshadow cultivar, bred to enhance ice enchantments. The words For my favorite senior citizen graced the small card tucked in amongst the flowers.

Smiling at the sight of his deplorable handwriting, Dae forced the shadow of doubt that refused to die to the back of her mind.