Chapter 28

W ith a twitch of his fingers, Ezzyn set the newspaper on fire, lips curling with grim amusement as the paper readily went to ash. He let the charred flakes cool before dusting off his hands over one of the lab’s planters, adding to the layer of mulch.

It was one of the few pots he’d left active to test a miniature set of wards enchanted with a new ratio of timings and strengths for various spells. The rest of the lab was packed up, its many containers for soil trials either fallow or completely emptied and cleaned. Crates were filled with supplies and records and his few personal effects, stacked in organized—more or less—rows along one wall of the lab. His office was similarly packed. Bare. Another day or two and there’d be no sign of him having spent the last year in the space at all.

Ezzyn ground a piece of ash into the dirt. The words of Avenor’s fall from grace. Fitting, somehow, for it to go into nourishing a piece of Ezzyn’s success after the bastard had done his best to cause him strife. More to save his own worthless hide than out of some personal antagonism toward Ezzyn himself, but that did little to comfort.

The ward pulsed with a tiny breath of magic, a sparkle of light emanating at the base as the measured dose spread outward. Grains of toxin dotted throughout the container turned to ice. Not many, maybe a dozen showing through the thin layer of straw like pinheads of light, but more would join once the flushing spell went off to bring the rest to the surface.

Anadae’s spell. All that he had left of her.

Ezzyn settled the custom-fit glass lid over the top. He checked its flame protection enchantment out of habit; the ward shouldn’t ignite any of the mulch with his targeted incineration spell, but best not to leave accidentally setting fire to the lab to chance. His leaving already had a melancholic edge. Didn’t need to add ignominious to it.

He paused at the end of his workstation, glancing toward the doorway. It was empty, as it had been every day since he’d last seen her. Anadae had taken him at his word that she needn’t finish out her assistantship, and he could not begrudge her doing so, not when he’d so royally fucked up. Ezzyn didn’t know which was worse; that he’d hurt her in the first place, or that he hadn’t fixed it, hadn’t told her the truth when given the chance.

She’d been right. They all had—everyone who’d tried to convince him of the necessity of the Rhell Accord. That the kingdom needed a long-term plan. A collaborative effort, as Anadae had so often said. That he did, or else face burnout. Or worse. Because Garethe had been right, too—being in Rhell, fighting the poison without any sense of moderation, did sicken him. Not in the same way as Garethe’s or so many others’ illnesses, the exposure eroding his mind rather than body.

It had taken weeks of being down in the Valley for the veil of anger to lift. He’d consulted with menders at the university and sent a report back home in case there were others suffering such effects, unaware of the root cause. Jeron doubted it, writing back that no one was as mulish and irrational when it came to personal safety. He ordered adherence to a strict new schedule if Ezzyn wanted to venture back into the field. One with regular breaks and check-ins with his family and things like consecutive days off. Which was a drastic overcorrection in Ezzyn’s mind, but Jeron had threatened punishment by assignment in the capital doing ceremonial bullshit. The sort that required formal wear and small talk. So, Ezzyn had shut his mouth and tried to make peace with the leisurely format awaiting him.

It still killed him, killed a small part of him inside, to accept that a cure remained a fantasy. That he had to settle for containment, devote his time and energy to implementing the new wards across Rhell for the time being instead of pouring himself into fighting the poison. Choosing defense instead of trying to beat it. A small part of him raged against his capitulation. But most days, Ezzyn knew it was the right call. A hard one, but right, and such a realization—and such stubbornness in coming to it—had cost him dearly.

He had finally learned a modicum of the patience Anadae had wished for, and she wouldn’t know. He would spend the coming months placing wards powered by their joint spellwork. Something they should’ve done together.

His copy of the finalized Rhell Accord was still out on his workstation. Today would’ve been her last day of the assistantship, but she wouldn’t see it. Probably had already heard of its signing from Vaadt or someone else. No need to get it from him.

But he didn’t pack the agreement into his bag. Left it out in plain view, just in case. Scrawled a note along the top corner, a simple You were right.

Turning down the lamps, Ezzyn went back to his campus housing for the last time.

Dae hesitated outside the open door. She glanced back over her shoulder, but it was quiet in the Towers this late, both in hour and term. Everyone above Initiate levels had been done for a few days now, and the last of the undergraduate finals had completed earlier in the morning. Even most of the faculty had cleared out, everyone enjoying a respite, however temporary, before grading or next endeavors began.

The rustle of paper and scratch of a nib pulled her attention back to the office. Steeling herself, Dae straightened up and knocked lightly against the doorframe. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Garethe Sor’vahl looked up, a warm smile lighting up his face. “Anadae! Not at all, please, come in.”

Dae took a proffered seat, nestling her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. “I apologize for stopping by so late, and without any notice. I was just speaking with Professor Vaadt.”

“Good, good. They passed along my request, then?” Garethe said. “I didn’t get much chance to discuss further opportunities with you before the university group left Den’olm.”

“Oh, that’s not— You were very busy with the new organization and the Accord,” Dae said.

“I understand you’ve withdrawn from the fellowship offerings in Rhell.”

Dae smoothed her grimace into a contrite smile. “I was hoping to speak to you about that. I would like to reapply, though I know it’s too late for this summer. But, for a fall position, I could—”

“May I ask why you withdrew in the first place?” Garethe interrupted, his tone gentle.

“I—” Dae hesitated, mouth gone dry. She swallowed, forced herself to inhale slowly despite the sudden racing of her heart. “I had concerns about my work being valued on factors beyond merit.”

“Such as?”

“My family connections and their usefulness.” She hesitated, then added, “And my position as Ezzyn’s research assistant.”

“Ahh, I see. Well.” Garethe put his dip pen aside. “With regard to the fellowships—and a space can certainly be made available for the right candidate—what Jeron and I care about is the work. Additional business perks wouldn’t be shunned, mind you, but those are secondary to the work itself, not the other way around. And Ezzyn can be a narrow-minded little doorknob sometimes, but he’d never recommend something he didn’t believe was worthy of Rhell.”

Relief coursed through her. “That’s good to hear. To know. Both?”

Garethe laughed. “If you have a moment, would you like to tell me about your proposal?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Dae said, tamping down on the giddy rush that swelled up at his invitation.

Her pitch was a bit rusty, the details having been shunted to the back of her mind for several weeks. But she’d lived and breathed time release and targeted spellwork for the better part of Adept One, was passionate about the efficacy of multidisciplinary spells and the interplay of successive enchantments. They were concepts she’d deployed on the spring trip, but she’d only started to see results that pointed her in a more focused direction at the end. And then … things had thrown her study off the tracks. But there were so many elements she wanted to explore, tests to run, adjustments to be made to get the containment wards as effective as possible while still getting them into place.

For close to an hour, Dae talked, outlining her tentative plans. Garethe listened intently, commenting a few times for clarification or to confirm something for her. There had been a few changes to the teams of mages stationed at Den’olm, necessitating amendments and notes for Dae to factor into her official proposal. New experts to consult, particularly a specialist in managing resources for water-based magic. But the way the conversation leaned, it stirred a new sensation of hope in her. Garethe seemed interested, spoke favorably, almost as if—

“I’ll need to confirm with Jeron, but I’m confident in saying that your research is exactly the type we want in Rhell,” Garethe said.

Dae didn’t know what to do with her face. She wanted to cheer and laugh and possibly melt into a puddle on the floor as the nerves she’d kept at bay finally unleashed themselves and made her hands shake.

She restrained herself to a relieved exhale, her chuckle sounding only a touch close to hysterical. “Thank you. I don’t—just, thank you.”

Garethe smiled. “It’s deserved. Send the proposal to Jeron in Talihn when you can.”

“Right away. I can revise it with your points from tonight and have it out with a courier start of the week.”

“Excellent. Oh, and Anadae.” Garethe’s grin widened. “If I was interested in a discount on Helm Naval hull enhancements?”

Dae folded her hands neatly on the desk. “I would refer you to Calya Helm about the current bulk pricing structure.”

Garethe’s head tipped back with his laugh.

Dae started to get up but paused. Sat back, her expression turning apprehensive. “If I may … how is Ezzyn?”

“When he isn’t pouting about how pigheaded he was being over the Accord?” Garethe snorted. “Broody. Sulky. More than his usual, that is.”

“The Accord, it’s been approved?”

“Signed by all three Sor’vahls, yes. Feel free to add yourself to the list of ‘I told you so.’ It’s good for his character.”

“I’m glad he came around,” Dae said in a soft tone. He would likely be busy traveling to the most critical spots in the kingdom to aid in clearing ground for the wards. She’d be in Den’olm for most if not all of the summer. It was probably better that way. No temptations. Distractions.

“I should mention,” Garethe said, “while your desire to be accepted for your work rather than your family connections is understandable, it wasn’t relevant here.”

“He—he didn’t mention it?”

“He was favorable, but that’s to be expected. You were his research assistant and were incorporated with his work.” Garethe rolled his eyes. “He was basically complimenting himself.”

“I don’t understand,” Dae said. “When I … he didn’t deny it. He implied…”

“He brought up your proposal over the winter, but we had already earmarked it for the trip. Your work is sound,” Garethe said, giving her a serious look. Which he promptly broke with a grin as he added, “Plus, Ez was deep his martyr complex at the time, and I tune him out when he’s being hysterical. Thinks he’s got to carry the kingdom on his shoulders.”

Dae’s smile was faint, a touch wistful. “He does.”

“Jeron’s got him on a tight leash when he goes back, so there won’t be any more of that nonsense.”

A tap on the door announced the arrival of Professor Rai. The kindly herbalism professor’s eyebrows went up when he saw Dae in the office, and he raised his hand in greeting.

“Saren!” Garethe, already so buoyant and bright, perked up even more at the sight of the older man.

“I can come back later.”

“No, please, Professor. I was just leaving,” Dae said.

She bid the professors a good evening and left, closing the door at Garethe’s behest. She walked back toward the atrium’s main doors, her step slowing as she passed the side stairwell. No, it was late, and she wasn’t sure where she’d landed. What she wanted to do—if anything. Her summer plans were back on track; that was enough for now.

Three steps past the stairs, Dae stopped. Sighed, one hand rubbing at her eyes. And turned around.

Both his office and the lab were empty, the lights turned down. She hesitated, taking in the bare shelves, the uncharacteristically tidy desks and stations. She turned up a single light and went into the lab. One last time, for nostalgia’s sake.

A report at the end of the workstation caught her eye. The Rhell Accord. Dae ran her finger over the paper, spying Ezzyn’s familiar scrawl in the corner.

She smiled and sought a clean scrap of paper and a pen.

Kindly desist from defacing official documents you’ll ask me to file later.

Wiping the nib clean, Dae set her note on top of the copy of the Accord and slipped back out of the lab.