Chapter 27

I f she failed her Adept level, begging Auntie Yerina for a job in the teashop seemed as good a plan as any. She helped—or hid, as Eunny pointed out—in the backroom, receiving and sorting shipments, maintaining inventory records, preparing restock lists, all administrative tasks that freed Yerina to spend more time in the front of the shop with the customers she loved.

Keeping to the back had other benefits, too, like no chance of accidentally seeing Ezzyn should he decide to stop in for tea. It also enabled Calya, who’d taken another windrunner up after receiving Dae’s express courier message, to vent without informing the rest of the tearoom.

“That shit-for-brains lying weasel,” Calya muttered, nursing a mug of the Mighty Leaf’s stomach-soothing blend. She’d come straight from the docks, waving off Dae’s concerns, demanding a full recounting of Brint’s proposition.

Calya rummaged thought her bag and slapped a crumpled copy of the Grae Port News on the table. “Younger Avenor Son Facing Censure” was splashed across the front page.

“So he is in trouble,” Dae said, passing the paper to Eunny. “Are you?”

Calya shrugged, the movement and her dismissive expression too smooth to be genuine. “Are you? Getting into fights at school.” She tsked.

“Hardly a fight,” Dae said. “I’m fine. Apparently, ours was nothing compared to some duels of the past. Helped that Brint ducked out in the night.”

“He knew what was coming,” Calya said.

“Are you really going to be all right?”

Her sister didn’t answer.

“Caly.”

“If I’m skimming this correctly,” Eunny said, “the Coalition is sanctioning AG, and they’re the ones ousting Brint from the board.”

“His family will intervene,” Dae said. “They’d never let him fail like that. It’s too public. His brother—”

“Already said it’s in the hands of the board—that’s a direct quote, and Daddy Avenor has recused himself from the matter,” Calya said.

“Over fines and blowing the budget?” Incredulity colored Dae’s voice. “Tens of thousands is a lot, but surely—”

“He left out the part where he signed off on dangerous procedures and falsified reports.” Calya’s face darkened. “Not on our projects, but some collaboration he’d been doing on the side. Our joint protection’s route would’ve gone too close for Brint to keep it covered up.”

Dae scanned the article, noting how her studies garnered the briefest of mentions. A sign, perhaps, that she’d finally managed to escape Central District’s cycle of drama. The article didn’t have names or too many details, being more for sensationalism than objective reporting. But it mentioned a grovetender experimental project going horribly awry, and Brint’s further attempts to contain the story by bringing in private consultation and crew to fix the damage, those services secured with extreme promises and loans from Brint himself.

Memory flickered in the back of her mind, of damage reports and estimated cleanup costs.

“This is what he was hiding! He’s known since last summer. No, earlier, because he’d already sought outside … cheaper options, that shit weasel.”

“That’s my line,” Calya said. “Care to explain what you’re mumbling about?”

Dae told them of the two letters from Sylveren and her deal with Brint to keep each other’s secrets.

“I didn’t recognize the names, and I was distracted about the scholarship.” Dae sighed, putting her face in her hands.

“He fooled a lot of people for a long time,” Eunny said. “He’s a dipshit, but I’ll give him credit for making it this far. Transferring up here to keep working his contacts and make it harder for you to monitor things?” Eunny nodded at Calya. “He gave it a good try.”

“Hardest he’s ever worked in his life,” Calya muttered.

“He kept being so friendly to me when we were in public,” Dae said, thinking back to how Brint was always making sure to greet others whenever he was around her. The comment of how he’d been trying to ease her into his last-ditch effort of a marriage proposal. His exclamations of Ezzyn’s bias. Trying to drive a wedge between them, perhaps? She bit her lip. A lucky hit, far luckier than Brint could’ve known.

“He made it this long by wrecking his own name, imagine how much further he’d have gotten with Helm Naval seeming to back him.” Dae leveled a hard look at her sister. “I’m serious, how much trouble are you in?”

Her sister made a placating gesture with her hands. “The AG board is going after Brint—with the Coalition’s blessing. The grovetenders he was stringing along up here with promises of deals in the capital vouched for me, so the Coalition isn’t penalizing us. HNE is still holding the work agreement with AG.”

“That’s wonderful,” Dae said in a flat tone. “I asked about you.”

Calya’s mouth popped open, the start of a protest hitting the air … and then she held back. A wry smile formed on her lips. “Father dearest took it as a sign to put a hold on my promotion for at least another year. His trustee is acting as interim director until further notice.”

“I’m sorry, Caly. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Oh, gods, no.” Calya huffed a dry laugh. “You’d probably make it worse.”

Dae flicked a tea leaf at her. “Brat.”

Calya sat back in her chair. “Now that my life story is out, it’s your turn. Why are you hiding out here?”

“I’m not—”

“She’s in love,” Eunny said. “And now heartbroken.”

“Eunny!”

“ Love?” Calya said in tones of mock horror. “How? When?”

Dae glared at Eunny. She glared at her sister. She glared at the floor. Would’ve glared at herself, too, if possible. And the choked up feeling in her throat, the way her chest constricted when she let herself think of him.

The emotion spilled out of her. The masquerade and its aftermath. How their sniping at one another slowly gave way, Dae’s grudging respect for Ezzyn’s research. The small things they began to share, little truths and fears and rawness. Things that fed an attraction, and their foolish arrangement. A plan Dae should’ve known could only fail. A failure that had come in the shape of the Rhell trip.

“Maybe he feels bad about the nepotism angle,” Dae said, tone bitter. “But he didn’t hesitate, either.”

“His home was— is in trouble. And he did apologize, right?” Eunny said. She held her hands up to ward off Dae’s reproach. “I’m not condoning it. You’ve every right to be pissed, but you’re not just mad, you’re miserable. And he is, too, as much as you are for him.”

Dae scoffed. “He wanted to save me. He apologized for causing me pain. He still did it. When he could’ve tried talking to me, he just lied and did what he thought was ‘best.’”

It hurt so much, how he’d admitted that there had been something real. For some reason, Dae did believe that part. And yet, he’d had so little faith in her. When trust concerned his homeland, he hadn’t come to her at all. Relied on something she’d said completely separate from the context. He’d known her discomfort with the connection to her family. Known, and had exploited first, felt bad about it after, once he’d been caught. His feelings might’ve been real, but only to a point.

Yerina stuck her head around the door separating the backroom from the customer-facing front. “Eunny, could you come help for a moment?”

“Sure.” Eunny pushed back from the table. “Anyone want anything from the front?”

Dae and Calya declined in unison.

“Oh, Dae, this came for you from the university courier.” Yerina passed her an envelope with the school’s seal.

Dae cringed, until she saw that the seal was the bronze color of administration, not blue for the water department. Not a foolproof gauge, seeing as Professor Vaadt’s notes thus far hadn’t been formal enough to call for a seal. Dae figured she had another week or two before things escalated to such levels.

Dae broke open the envelope and scanned its contents as Eunny left with her aunt. Her brow wrinkled as she reread the short letter.

“Are you keeping me in suspense for a reason?” Calya asked.

“It’s my Adept One results.” Dae looked up, voice going faint. “I—I passed.”

There was a beat of silence, then Calya’s brows shot up. “You—you did it!” she exclaimed, each word louder than the one before.

Dae stared down at the paper as Calya raised her mug in a toast. She should’ve felt relieved. Joyous. Anything but this vague numbness. This mild … apathy and twinge of heartache. Because despite her younger sister and best friend being so close, she wished she could tell him. She could imagine the smile on his face, his congratulations. A murmur in her ear of how they might celebrate.

“What’s wrong?” Calya said, eyes narrowing. “Why aren’t you shrieking ecstatically or something?”

A puff of laughter escaped. “Because I tend to do that?”

“A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought you’d apply to Sylveren in secret and risk Mother’s wrath. What do I know of your tendencies?” Calya shrugged. “Why so glum? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

“Yea,” Dae said. “Yea … it is.”

Of course it was. She had her Adept One, and a promising opportunity back in Central District working in Grae Port’s harbor. Back to her home waters, if she wanted it. Still environmental restoration, and without any shadow of Ezzyn haunting her steps. She’d achieved what she’d set out to do, so why did she feel so empty?

Dae blinked. To her horror, water fell from her face onto her lap. Tears. It couldn’t be happening, not when everything was going right. She’d never been this upset even when her life with Brint had turned out to be little more than a broken promise. Yes, she’d been angry and devastated by turns, so many times, but the emotions hadn’t made it so far as tears.

How could she be so mad at Ezzyn yet miss him at the same time? Or worse, worry about him? The image of cracked skin, how he’d bled through his bandages from pushing too hard…

Calya let out a low whistle. “Wow. I think Eunny’s right. You are in love.” She nudged a scrap of old tea towel in Dae’s direction.

“I’m not. It was just … it was nothing. Excitement in the moment, that’s all.” Dae mopped her eyes. “I’m happy.”

“I can tell.”

“I am!” Dae said, her emphasis undermined by having to wipe another tear. She bit her lip, willing her eyes to get themselves under control. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“No, not this time. Ezzyn Sor’vahl.” Calya clicked her tongue. “You had a schoolgirl crush on him when he was your tutor. That was a fluffy, in-the-moment thing. But you really are heartbroken this time.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because—ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you should give it a chance?”

Dae didn’t try to mask her skepticism. “Really? You? She who thinks love and romance is childish?”

“I said it was fantasyland when it came to serious— It doesn’t matter.” Calya huffed. “I’ve never seen you react like this. Maybe it means something.”

A small, dejected laugh was Dae’s only response.

“You’re both hurting, and it sounds like he’d try to make it better. I mean, make him earn it, yes, but also maybe give him a chance to do so?”

“I can’t. It’s my fault, too. I didn’t learn from past mistakes.” Dae set the towel scrap on the table. A deeper form of grief squeezed her chest, too despondent to be alleviated by tears. “Ezzyn … that kind of life is just falling back into old patterns in the end. This year was supposed to be about moving past that. Starting fresh. I did this for magic, not to find love.”

“If this year was only about proving yourself as a mage, then you would’ve taken the HNE job when Mother offered it,” Calya said. “You were supposed to finally get what you wanted.”

“I did.” Dae indicated her Adept One results.

Calya gave a pointed look to the tear-soaked towel. “Clearly.”

He was a liar. Many times over. Was there enough truth left between them, or had it, too, been ground into the dirt?

“How do I forgive someone who was willing to hurt me?” Dae said softly.

“You forgave me.”

“That—is that really the—”

“Why did you do it?” Calya held her sister’s eye. “Really, why, Ana? I know you don’t go by that anymore, but I’m saying this for her, too. That part of you deserves to know that I’m sorry. I was awful, and I knew it at the time I said it. Why did you forgive me?”

For a long moment, Dae didn’t speak. It had been horrible, walking away from her childhood home with her sister’s ridicule burning in her ears. But Calya had come back. Shown up on Dae’s doorstep. Maybe it was pathetic that Dae had been willing to move on at the first sign of remorse, yet life had been that much lighter with Calya in it.

“Because I wanted to,” Dae said. “I wanted my little sister back. But it can’t be that simple.”

“Why not? And is it really so simple? Or easy?” Calya asked. “You chose to go on faith that I won’t be nasty to you again, or that if I am then I’m still worth it. Thorns and all.”

“Of course you—”

“I am your little sister. You’re bound by the gods’ law to love me.” Calya preened. Quickly, she sobered. “From all you’ve said, yes, he fucked up, but he was being stupid for family reasons. Shouldn’t you, of all people, understand that? How many years of your life were tied up in the prospect of Brint fucking Avenor because you didn’t want to let Mother down?”

Dae’s mouth opened, protest at the ready. The weakness of the words had them dying in her throat.

Wry smile curving her lips, Dae said, “Fair point.”

Eunny came back in, interrupting Calya’s pert response. “Hey, Professor Vaadt is here and ask— Whoa! Is that your Adept One results?”

Dae showed her the letter, any answer promptly going up in a whoosh of air as Eunny hugged her.

“I knew it! We’ll celebrate later, but the professor asked to see you.”

Dae grimaced. “I’ve been putting off meeting. We’re supposed to discuss summer plans, but I’ve been … you know.”

“Moping,” Eunny supplied,

“Ask Vaadt,” Calya said. At Dae’s quizzical look, she made an exasperated noise. “You’ve been tying yourself in knots over unearned opportunity, but didn’t you say Vaadt was one of the people approving for the trip?”

“She’s got a point,” Eunny said. “Vaadt won’t sugarcoat it, they’re Eyllic. It’s against their nature.”

“I guess,” Dae said, drawing out the word. Nervous energy coiled in her stomach. If Ezzyn had used his influence, if the mentor she respected so much had bowed to—

Only one way to find out.

“Front corner window booth,” Eunny said as Dae got up. “It’s pretty quiet tonight, and no one’s seated nearby.”

“Miss Helm, please sit.” Vaadt gestured toward a seat across. “I hear that congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Dae murmured. “For everything. The scholarship. I never would’ve…”

“It was well-deserved,” Vaadt said, filling in Dae’s emotional silence. “Speaking of, will you be applying for further aid for the fall term?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ve secured funding for Adept Two tuition.”

“And your plans for the summer? My colleague in Grae Port said you’ve expressed interest but haven’t officially applied for the project.” Vaadt peered at her. “Time is rather short for a summer study at this point, and frankly, still short if you wanted to research abroad for the fall.”

It was a good opportunity, but it was in Graelynd, when what she most wanted was to be in Rhell. Wanted yet didn’t. No, she desired it, she was simply afraid. Holding herself back, afraid to know the truth. To have her fears confirmed.

You came this far. You passed Adept One your first time out. You didn’t do all of it to repeat the past.

Dae had held herself back from wanting things for long enough.

“Professor. The spring trip,” Dae began. “Did … did my relationship with Ezzyn influence my acceptance?”

Vaadt took a long sip of tea. “So, that’s what has been eating at you.”

“I, um.” Dae floundered before her advisor’s neutral stare. “I … yes?”

Setting the cup to the side, Vaadt leaned forward, their gaze steely. “Let us set the record straight and be done with this nonsense.”

“Okay.” Dae cringed. “I’m sorry, Prof—”

“So long as it doesn’t affect your work, or my work, I don’t care how you conduct your personal life,” Vaadt said. “Note, I was the first one to recommend the Rhell trip and encouraged you to submit. I sent your proposal along with my direct correspondence to the king. I didn’t do that on a lark. King Jeron and I consulted on the merit of all the water-related proposals, with input from Garethe. The youngest Sor’vahl was not involved.”

Dae blinked rapidly, confused. “But—but he said…”

“I was present at the meetings. He was not,” Vaadt said. “Whatever might’ve been said privately, neither of his brothers mentioned anything to indicate favoritism. Though, I’ll note, you didn’t seem nearly so bothered when my credentials were involved.”

Dae flushed. It wasn’t the same thing, but she didn’t have a diplomatic rebuttal handy for the differences between a professional recommendation and that of her lover.

“No, okay, maybe not favoritism, but the implications of my family’s business couldn’t have hurt,” Dae said. “You mentioned something about utilizing business contacts.” She tried not to sound reproachful.

Vaadt gave an exasperated sigh, though their lips twitched with a smile. “Yes, business. You’d claimed to have separated the personal from the professional.”

Dae blushed. She had no argument for that aside from her own ignorance, and Vaadt seemed well aware that, when it came to this matter, that was in abundance.

“If you’re serious about bioremediation research, get used to pandering to investors and leveraging whatever connections you have.” Vaadt went back to their tea. “That applies regardless of ancestry, and it never ends.”

She knew that—or rather, she should’ve remembered. The funding grind went on around her, but she didn’t want to think about her family name. Abuse it. Lean on it instead of proving worth on her own.

“You’ve done good work this year, Miss Helm. Get used to claiming that, too.”

She had. The layering spells and the targeted ice enchants. Collaborating across departments to optimize the slow-release trial. That was the work that mattered when it came to the field opportunities, and Anadae’s successes over the last year did not stop there. Even the letters and reports she’d put together had ended up bolstering the Rhell Accord. Ezzyn had given input at times, but so had Zhenya and others in the seminar cohort. Dae hadn’t thought twice when asked for reference figures or estimates when she was asked transportation-related questions.

Doubt only arose when it came to Ezzyn.

She’d forgiven her sister because she’d wanted to. A simple yet fierce want. Dae had been professing her glut of good fortune, how she had everything she’d set her heart on. Perhaps not everything after all. She was still clinging to narrow-minded conceptions about her family name and applying them only to Ezzyn. Perhaps due to their past, or for some hangup she had because of their intimacy. It didn’t matter. If it wasn’t too late.

Ana’s life had been one long, broken promise. Dae could finally see it fulfilled. If she took it on a bit of faith. If she wanted it badly enough to try.

“Professor,” she said, hesitating as nerves jammed up her throat. At Vaadt’s inquiring nod, she pressed on, “Do you know if— I know it’s horribly late, but is there any chance of still applying for a Rhell fellowship?”

A half-smile formed on Vaadt’s thin cheek. “As it so happens, Garethe Sor’vahl is currently at the university doing some prep work for his teaching position this summer.”

Dae’s heart rose, hope fragile yet ballooning in her chest.

“He mentioned something about me passing along any interest for continuing experimental trials in Den’olm.” Vaadt swirled the contents of their cup. “If you wanted to go directly to the source, you might consider stopping by the offices on the atrium’s ground floor.”

Dae was already up, eyes searching the tearoom for Eunny or Auntie Yerina.

Vaadt flapped a hand at her in a shooing motion. “Go on. I’ll let Miss Song know where you’ve gone.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Dae said, hoping so few words could embody the host of feelings she meant.

Vaadt smiled, head bowing in a small nod. Dae spun around and made for the door, arm already raised to hail an empty cart trundling past.