Chapter 4

T hree days after the ignominious exit from her family home, Anadae sailed up into the Valley of Sylveren. She passed through the larger Renstown first, pulling the hood of her cloak up against the Valley’s drizzle as she tried—in vain—to catch a glimpse of the smaller town of Sylvan. Sylvanor Lake was nearly fifty miles across at this end, and with clouds descending to brush its vast surface, Sylvan was hidden from view. Anadae contented herself to wait on the deck as the final sail commenced.

When she finally disembarked the boat, a hand waving from Sylvan’s long dock caught her attention.

“Ana!” a woman called, her short, dark hair peeking out from the hood of her patched gray cloak.

Anadae raised her hand in greeting and hurried over. After being cooped up on the boat, whose few passengers had kept to themselves, seeing a smiling, familiar face was a relief. While the Valley was known for its insular nature, Sylvan was infamous for its aloofness toward outsiders. Having a best friend already in residence was no guarantee of acceptance.

“Eunny!” she cried, hugging her friend tight, uncaring of the rain. “I told you I’d come to the shop.”

Eunny Song scoffed. “Some friend I’d be if I couldn’t take the time to greet you in person after four years.” She glanced at the two bags Anadae carried. “This it?”

Anadae gave a short laugh. “I’ll have a little more sent up when I can. I’m traveling light.”

She held back how she hadn’t been able to afford the extra shipping fees, her parents having removed her privileges from the Helm accounts. The few belongings she’d packed would have to last until new work and a permanent lodging situation were found. Eunny had offered up her floor indefinitely, but Anadae didn’t want to overreach. The town of Sylvan was only half an hour’s walk to the university’s perimeter wall, but she didn’t love the prospect of making it every day if she had the choice. Especially not if she had to try and juggle a town job with classroom studies. A proper bed would be nice too.

“Right,” Eunny said, her expression letting Anadae know that her friend wasn’t fooled. “Come on, Auntie Yerina will want to see you.”

They made their way off the dock and into the town proper, Eunny toting one of Anadae’s bags and shushing her protest. The light rain kept up, which Anadae recalled was standard weather for the area. Gray and green, overcast with a healthy side of wind and rain—that was the Valley of Sylveren. The Gyo-Sohn mountains disappeared into the clouds to make a dramatic backdrop for the town situated in its foothills. As they left the docks behind, Anadae looked past the row of businesses around the town’s center to the formidable presence of Sylveren University built into the mountain. It stood at the head of a large lake, the main building’s rooftops and a few towers sprouting above the wall. The towers varied in heights and widths and even architectural designs, though Anadae couldn’t see much beyond general shapes at her current distance.

She stopped in the middle of the town square, a clear if uneven line stretching between her spot and the university’s distant gate. Something tugged at her, a phantom’s touch, so light she wasn’t certain if it was real of her imagination. She held her palm up, watching as raindrops pattered off her skin. For a moment, each droplet felt charged, as if imparting a kiss of energy upon impact.

Anadae glanced up to find Eunny with a faint, knowing smile on her face.

“What?” Anadae said. The charged atmosphere vanished, the rain falling as simple precipitation once again. Anadae shook out her hand and resumed following Eunny beyond the center of the square.

“The Valley’s claiming you.”

“I thought that was just a tale the locals tell to scare off or swindle outsiders.” Folks of the Valley were proud of the legend that their land had long been favored by the divine Empyrean Court. That a hint of such fondness had remained long after the Court left the mortal world.

Eunny smirked. “Maybe sometimes, but it’s true enough. There’s a touch of the Child left here, and the Valley claims whomever it wants. You either belong or you don’t.”

“But I’m not from here.”

“And?” Eunny indicated herself and their similar Hanyeok heritage with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not the same,” Anadae protested. “Auntie Yerina has been here for years. My parents haven’t. My mother can’t stand the weather.”

“Even people the Valley claims don’t always love the weather. It’s rain. Origin doesn’t matter. You belong here or you don’t, you’ll see.” Eunny shrugged.

Anadae hesitated, bursting with questions yet aware of the flicker of melancholy in her friend’s voice. A hint of pain whose edges had been dulled by time rather than any action.

Eunny gave her a sidelong glance, a wry smile curling the corner of her mouth. “Ask, Ana. I’m hardly fragile.”

A truth and a deflection rolled into one. The specter of Eunny’s past, her tumultuous relationship with magic, the why of it all. They were things acknowledged yet never addressed. Not in a direct way. Instead, the friends skirted the topic, admitting its existence without talking about it. And five years later, how could Anadae bring it up now?

She didn’t, falling back to their pattern of moving around and onward. “How did you know the Valley was for you?”

Eunny thought for a moment. “I think I just felt it. One day it all clicked.” She shrugged, the wryness of her smile giving way to something more affectionate. “Helpful, I know. But it’s one of those things where you’ll know it when you feel it.”

With a proficiency in light magic, Eunny had attended Sylveren University for her Initiate degree and the first of her Adept levels. She’d returned to Central District as part of a diplomatic trade delegation near the end of Eylle’s war on Rhell, one which saw the group taken captive. They’d been rescued, but Eunny didn’t speak of it or the fallout she’d had with her mother upon returning home. Anadae … gods all break but she’d been a bad friend. Had been buried in projects for Helm Naval at the end of the war and hadn’t been able to see Eunny as much as she’d have liked. Withering under her own crushed dreams as the reality of her sham engagement pierced the veil of her desperate naivete. Then Eunny had moved overnight, off to visit her Aunt Yerina in the town of Sylvan. A supposedly temporary visit, until the Valley had claimed her. Or, Anadae suspected, Eunny had never planned to return at all.

Despite their distance, Eunny and Anadae’s friendship survived. What had started in the middle schools of Grae Port kept on through secondary educations spent across country lines. Anadae felt as if they single-handedly kept the postal service in business with their constant stream of letters.

“I hope I can recognize it.” Anadae held her hand out again, but the rain felt no different.

“You will,” Eunny said, all confidence.

They continued down the street, Eunny filling her in on some of the town’s basics. Despite not having seen each other in person for the last four years, the conversation flowed easily, each other’s presence a familiar comfort. Though Eunny already knew about the scholarship, Anadae’s unpleasant last day at the Helm residence was new.

“Parental disappointment. I’m sorry to welcome you to the club,” Eunny said, with a touch too much bitterness.

“I’m hoping they’ll come around once they realize I’m serious.”

A few moments passed in silence before Eunny asked, not unkindly, “And if they don’t?”

Anadae didn’t want to think about it. Whether or not they’d been all that close, her family had been her life. A depressing fact, but nonetheless true.

“I don’t know,” she said, bleak honesty weighting her voice. Eunny didn’t press for more.

After dropping Anadae’s bags off at Eunny’s place above her aunt’s tearoom, they took the outside stairway down to the patio behind the Mighty Leaf. The shop had a cheeriness to it, with its warm lighting and hand-carved sign in the shape of a teapot. The windows facing the street allowed a glimpse of assorted tables and chairs and other cozy hollows in which one could settle down. As they descended the stairs, an inviting scent of a toasty, smoky green brew and freshly baked goods floated up to greet them.

Adjoining the teashop was a new addition. Comprised of canvas and heavy rope and a mismatch of wood both scavenged and new, it emerged from the side of the Mighty Leaf like a transgression against every rule of construction. Yet, despite its plain walls and simple furnishing that lacked the ambiance and character of the Mighty Leaf, when Anadae stopped to peer through one of its windows, she saw a variety of papers, small tools, and all the subtle reminders of a well-used space.

Anadae nodded toward the beaten metal sign on the front door. “‘Song’s Scrap.’ It’s very … to the point.”

“It’s a repair café, it doesn’t need to be pretty.”

Anadae followed Eunny through the teashop, a smile on her face at her friend’s gruffness.

Yerina Song-Burl more than made up for her niece’s lack of exuberance, enveloping Anadae in a cinnamon-scented hug same as she had when Anadae had been a young, wide-eyed girl visiting the Valley for the first time.

“Anadae! It’s been too long.” Yerina showed them to a small table near the pastry case and a shelving unit stocked with Yerina’s assorted tea blends available for purchase. “How long are you visiting?”

“At least a year, I expect.” Anadae grinned at Yerina’s squeal. “I’m here for Adept One.”

“That’s so exciting! I wasn’t expecting that. Whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, that’s too—"

Yerina flapped her hands at Anadae’s protest. “A pot of the house blend. And I’ll grab a plate of the teacakes—last ones for today.” Yerina whisked off.

Anadae watched the older woman depart, a tightness in her chest. The reception of her plans was so different here than at home. Both times a surprise, yet with opposite results.

You brought this on yourself. Don’t blame us for unhappiness made of your own ignorance. Calya’s words rang in the back of Anadae’s mind. The memory stung, yet the bite began to lose its edge the more it played in her head. Perhaps her sister was right. She had been ignorant. Trusting. The Ana of the past had capitulated to her parents’ expectations, afraid of disappointing them—convinced herself that her patience would be rewarded. The Ana she’d been had pretended indifference when her relationship with Brint had failed in every way except for ending.

“You all right, Ana?” Eunny said.

“Just thinking.” Anadae regarded her friend. “I—I don’t think I want to go by Ana. She’s the past, and I don’t want to be her anymore.”

“You’re not. You’re here,” Eunny said. “So, what should I call you, then?”

She thought for a moment. “I still like my name, so Anadae is fine. But maybe … Dae?”

“Dae,” Eunny said, slowly, as if testing out the word. “Easy enough to remember.”

When their tea and cakes arrived, they toasted to her new name. After hearing about the daily goings-on of Song’s Scrap, talk turned to Dae’s current predicament.

“Froze you out of the account? Damn. That’s my mother’s level of petty,” Eunny said around a bite of teacake.

“I was able to draw some before I left, so I’m not entirely destitute,” Dae said, leaning back in her chair as she grimaced. “But it’s not far off. I wouldn’t put it past Papa to have notified the Sylveren branch that I’m not allowed any withdrawals. I was hoping for … well, it doesn’t matter now. I need to find something before term starts.”

“You can stay with me as long as you want, you know that. But I understand why you’d want to be on campus.”

“That would be ideal. I’m just … I’m already behind everyone else.” Dae sighed. “I wanted to fully commit to this year. If I don’t pass the Adept One screening exam next spring—”

“Don’t borrow problems.” Eunny held her hands up to stop Dae’s worries. “It’ll work out. And if you have to take the screen again,” she plowed on over Dae’s despondent groan, “then you take it again. Plenty of people do—they’re postgrad degrees.”

Dae didn’t say anything, merely nodded her head. She knew Eunny was right but couldn’t shake the feeling that she had to pass her tier one at first asking. She had one year to prove that she’d earned this rebellion. If she couldn’t manage that, then maybe her family was right in their skepticism. She knew that her insistence and worries weren’t based in logic, but it didn’t stop the feeling that if she didn’t pass the first time out, she’d never make it.

Eunny was called away to help with an “emergency” at the repair café, despite it being closed. Dae ushered her on, content to sit in their spot and sip her spiced black tea. She gazed out the window, watching as the townsfolk of Sylvan went about their business. She wondered if she would get to be one of them. Perhaps not so permanent a fixture as a resident, but someone allowed by the Valley to remain, unhindered. Accepted by its people as more than a mere visitor.

“Anadae.” A shadow fell across her table.

Dae looked up, blinked, and had the distinct sensation of her eyes and brain moving at separate speeds. She knew the tall Rhellian man standing next to her. Recognized the piercing blue eyes regarding her with such wariness.

“Ez.” His name—shortened as it was—popped out without conscious thought. The nickname was too casual despite the few years of sporadic tutoring he’d given her in elementary magic. And her tone? Far too relaxed given the minimal contact they’d had over the years since. Too friendly a greeting considering the circumstances, past or present. The unfortunate event Eunny wickedly dubbed the Kiss Incident. Nearly five years later, Dae had managed to never so much as glimpse him from afar. And now she opened her mouth and his nickname fell out. Gods all fucking break her.

You’ll regret it forever.

A flicker of surprise registered across his face. A face that was the same yet subtly different from what she remembered. He’d grown more into his features, the proud brow pronounced, angles more defined. He’d always have a Rhellian’s fair skin, but his now bore a peachy bronze tint denoting an amount of time spent outdoors.

“I mean, Ezzyn. Hello.” Dae set her teacup down too hard, its rattle against the saucer making her wince. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same, only I happened to overhear a part of your conversation.” He held up a bag of tea from the shelf. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I’d stopped by to pick up Yerina’s house green.”

“Oh, of course. No, I’m just … here. For Sylveren,” Dae babbled, her cheeks heating. “Just figuring out the last few details.”

An awkward pause followed as they both made fleeting eye contact.

Dae fidgeted with her cup. They weren’t exactly friends. He’d been her tutor, then whatever not-friends-but-more-than-acquaintances became after she’d gone to Grae University. He’d been less Prince Ezzyn Sor’vahl back then and more simply the fire mage inexplicably schooling her in water. He’d seemed … glamorous. Four years her senior, readying for his first Adept levels year at Sylveren. They’d talked a lot about that, as Dae had initially planned to attend as well. And then Brint happened. The betrothal, the change of plans. Any chance of getting to know Ezzyn better, the possibilities of that life, all of it vanished.

At least, that was how it had all turned out. The exact order of things, Ezzyn’s offer of something more and how that had panned out … what did any of it matter now?

“Why are you down here?” Dae asked. “I’d have thought you’d be in Rhell.”

“Garethe was supposed to teach a course this year, but he’s been delayed. I’m stepping in to consult.”

“Professor Sor’vahl.” A smile played across her lips. “It suits.”

“It really doesn’t, and I’m not here in a teaching capacity.” He made a face. “I’d rather be continuing work at home, but needs must.”

Dae’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry that relief has been so slow in coming.”

“Yes, the speed of government.” His lip curled. “We’ve learned Rhell must rely on her own first when it comes to dedication. Attentions run short when personal investment isn’t a factor.”

Dae flushed anew. His wording was careful. Deliberate. Not an outright attack, yet it felt like one. Or maybe it simply tugged at a guilty conscience, for all that directing the government had nothing to do with her. Still, it was a dig, an unspoken I told you so , a reminder that she’d chosen poorly.

“Very wise,” she said, tone neutral. “I hope the university has the answers you’re looking for.”

“Indeed.” A furrow formed in his brow. “And so you’ve finally decided to come here as well? I can’t imagine your family sanctioned this endeavor.”

Dae’s eyes narrowed at the mocking edge to his tone. “I’m here because I want to be.”

“Did you not want to before?”

She took a sip of her lukewarm tea to collect her thoughts. “I’ve wanted a number of things over the years.”

“How very diplomatic of you.” There was something disappointed, almost bitter, in his tone. “But I would expect nothing less of a Helm.”

Dae bit the inside of her lip, fighting to keep her neutral mask in place. “It’s been lovely to catch up, but I’m—”

“I stopped by because I happened to overhear about your financial … situation,” Ezzyn said. “I could speak to the local branch here about assistance. The Sor’vahls have accounts at the bank in town.”

“Assistance,” Dae said slowly.

Ezzyn’s head cocked to the side, lips twitching again, this time with a smirk as his eyes roved over her. “If you’re here, should I presume you aren’t engaged anymore?”

Dae swallowed, aware of how his eyes fixed on her face. “No, but I— If you mean an exchange of, of, or for…”

He chuckled, a soft exhale of dark mirth as his teeth bared in a smile. “Ana, I think it’s a bit late for that. Though, if that’s how Helm Naval has been conducting business, I’ve underestimated what—”

“I-I— That wasn’t an offer!”

Ezzyn made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “We could structure it as a loan, if that’s more to your comfort.”

Dae stood, voice low but cold. “I don’t need your charity, Prince Sor’vahl. Whatever you may think of me—”

He put a hand out to stop her from brushing past. “Apologies, that was out of line.”

“It was.” She crossed her arms, shoulders hunching as she tried to calm the flurry of conflicting emotions roiling through her. She kept her gaze averted, focusing on the teapot as she added, “And it’s Anadae. Or Dae. Just not Ana.”

“Anadae,” Ezzyn said. “Sorry, old habits.”

“It’s … recent.”

“I see.” Ezzyn hesitated. “I am serious, though, about speaking to the bank. As a favor between friends,” he hastened to add.

If only it could be so easy. “I can’t … that’s nice of you to offer, but I can’t accept.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t need you to save me, Ezzyn,” she murmured, finally looking up at him.

He frowned, one hand smoothing over his chin as he thought. “Would you be open to work opportunities instead? I believe the university provides a generous stipend for that sort of thing.”

The prideful part of her wanted to decline on principle, his previous crack about arranging for assistance still needling under her skin. Practicality won out. “Possibly,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

“In addition to shepherding along Gaz’s seminar, I’m continuing research for Magister Three,” Ezzyn said. “I could use a research assistant. All completely above board, managed through the university.”

“I don’t know anything about assisting in that capacity,” Dae said. “Especially to do with fire magic.”

A laugh sounded in the back of his throat. “It shouldn’t be a problem.” He raised a hand in greeting as Eunny approached. “I’ll send details later.”

“I di— That’s generous of you, but I’m not sure I would be a good fit.”

“Think on it.” Ezzyn paused, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t decide what to say, or whether to say it. He exhaled sharply, then murmured, “I am glad you decided to come.”

He left before she could respond, nodding briefly to Eunny as he made his way to the counter to pay for his tea.

“What was that about?”

Dae watched Ezzyn’s back retreat for a moment, then looked at her friend, mind dazed from the many turns the conversation had taken in such a short span of time. “I— Just … saying hello, I guess.”

“Is this the second coming of the Kiss Incident?”

“What? No. No, of course not,” Dae said. “He offered to help me with a job on campus.”

“Huh.” Eunny tilted her head from side to side. “Interesting.”

“He was just being nice.”

“Not what I was talking about, but yes. Very nice of him.” A small, weird smile teased Eunny’s mouth. “Anyway, crisis averted at the shop. Needed to fix a kid’s toy. Ready to go?”

Dae followed Eunny out of the shop and back up to her loft. She listened to Eunny’s chatter about the repair café, her mind torn between her friend’s words and the oddly charged conversation with Ezzyn Sor’vahl. He’d been both distant and warm, vaguely insulting yet thoughtful. Dae caught herself glancing out the window, hoping to glimpse him though she knew he’d likely gone back to the university.

She gave herself a mental shake. Ezzyn was little more than a hazy what-if, a blink of a moment from her past. Not even a real question in the present day. Whatever antagonism or unsettling feeling had been in his offer didn’t bear any further thought.

A job and a way to keep up on her path through Sylveren, that was her focus. Ezzyn himself was merely a stepping stone along the way, one she didn’t know if she’d even consider with any serious thought. But he’d been helpful in the moment. Even if working with him wasn’t worth bearing out, perhaps looking for a post within the school would prove fruitful.

Besides, with him being a fire specialist—not to mention a Magister level— and her solely in water, the chances had to be small that she’d see him in more than passing ever again. She didn’t even know where the campus’ post was; easy enough to pretend she missed whatever information he sent.

He was cursed. It had been all of two days since Ezzyn had arrived in the Valley, this place he couldn’t think of without connecting it to her even though she’d never come in the first place, and here she was. He’d recognized her voice in an instant. Remembered its melody. Found her in the tearoom with ease. Her dark hair was longer now, that distinctively Graelynder nose keeping her features from being too delicate.

She was in the Valley, and not merely to visit her friend but to attend the godsdamned university, where he would be for months. Five years since he’d made a fool of himself over her, and in an instant, he’d recognized her voice across the teashop. Heard her predicament. The way her eyes had widened when she’d thought he was propositioning her … no, no he couldn’t think about it, or his cock would embarrass him.

Better to think of her lesser qualities. Anadae Helm had been the first girl to truly intrigue him. The first to so bitterly disappoint. She chose the role of perfect, malleable daughter and played it to perfection. Or rather, she had, for years. So much of that was still in her, the neutrality and lengths she went to craft inoffensive answers. The curious girl who could talk his ear off about the effects of ice enchantments on boat hulls and the intricacies of water had been replaced by a budding socialite worried more about her fiancé’s image than anything of substance. Sure, she’d advocated on behalf of more aid and resources being sent to Rhell during the war and in its aftermath—Ezzyn remembered that much from when he’d still put some stock in Graelynd politics getting anything done, recalled seeing Helm Naval Engineering listed on reports and thinking of her—but paperwork didn’t equal results. Her betrothal to the Avenor Guard heir hadn’t evolved into anything more, yet years had passed, and she’d done nothing to call it off, either. After a certain point, Ezzyn had stopped paying attention. Anadae Helm hadn’t been who he’d thought, simply a follower. Loyal to her family, which wasn’t entirely a fault, but he’d put her from his mind.

Until now.

He hadn’t enjoyed his later years at Sylveren. Couldn’t walk its halls without thinking of what a waste it was, her giving up on this place to bandy about in the capital. She haunted him, this woman he’d once wanted to know better, yet every subsequent conversation they’d had since she’d bound herself to Avenor had been more depressing than the last. Ezzyn knew he could be prideful, but to watch Anadae sacrifice any sense of her own, and for nothing … He couldn’t bear it yet couldn’t forget, either.

He’d spent most of his Magister level time back home, conducting research in the field. Easier that way, for the work was consuming and the setting easy to think of without picturing her in it. But he was back in the Valley now, and this time with the complication that she was, too. Of her own volition. Challenging every notion he’d formed of her. The spine he’d thought she’d lost, that glint of pride, of standards. A spark of wit.

It shouldn’t have mattered. Good for her going after her dreams. What did it concern him? Except, it did. Consumed, if not concerned. That she’d thought he was asking her for … how her first response hadn’t been an immediate disavowal but a clarifying question. The fantasy of her, it was an itch under his skin. Utterly ridiculous, because he’d seen that she still had that dutiful daughter mentality engrained in her. But any hope of quietly noting her presence and then abolishing it from his mind? Of being simply cold and bored during his stay in the Valley? Unlikely. Not when his mind kept replaying her saying, “Professor Sor’vahl.”

The term was going to be fucking unbearable.