Chapter 6

E yes closed, Dae directed her focus inward, settling on the presence of magic circulating within her. After only a week immersed in magical learning, the faint but ever-present hum of energy beneath her skin had become like second nature, the ability to produce a spark of light taking only the tiniest bit of conscious thought. Casting her magic outward to tap into sources of water, however, was progressing at a slower pace. And writing an essay describing the different properties of water? Her vocabulary fizzled out of her head.

Two glasses sat on the table in front of her, one filled with room temperature water, the other mostly ice. Though Dae’s magic coiled in her fingers, waiting for direction, it was of little help here. She knew that her magic would interact differently between solid and liquid forms of water but couldn’t articulate why or even how. When she did small magic at home, she just … did it. Knew how it felt. But the theory behind the action wasn’t something she’d committed to memory. A single class at Grae U had long since fled her brain. Trying to hold her magic steady long enough to wrap her mind around how water felt in both forms and distill it into words, those efforts took her an inordinate amount of time and energy. It was the stuff of Initiate levels—early ones, at that—yet she struggled. Everyone else in her Adept One Concepts of Water Magic and the Biological World course could identify the states of their medium with ease. Instead of erudition, she had Brint’s jeering about teenagers knowing more than her crowding out any useful thought.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, she glared at the melting ice. Being able to produce a result without showing how she got there was all well and good when magic had been little more than a hobby. Less so here at Sylveren. They were only a week into the semester, but Dae was paranoid about falling behind. Professor Vaadt had informed her of a social mixer for the upperclassmen that weekend, but she was starting to think her time would be better spent imprinting the Initiate core class’s Arcane Structure: Understanding the Foundation of Magic into her brain. That was before tackling her own journal article readings and starting a paper about modern uses of historical techniques for elementalists.

Casting a surreptitious glance toward the door of the empty classroom she’d holed up in, Dae pulled the Arcane Structure textbook out of her bag for a quick skim. Even if no one should care how Dae studied, she didn’t want to advertise the fact that she needed to refresh her memory from an Initiate text. Especially not Ezzyn Sor’vahl and the assistantship he’d offered, the details of which she’d ignored, despite the paperwork having arrived in her mailbox. She’d seen him only once during the last week, across the courtyard. She’d found alternate routes to her destinations ever since. Which was absurd behavior on her part. They spent most of their days in separate areas of the Towers, and she’d been a recluse up in her room every waking hour that she wasn’t in class. Avoiding him even within the walls of Sylveren was a simple enough affair.

She knew she should say something, not just as a courtesy for his offer but to clear whatever tension still existed between them. Their interaction at the Mighty Leaf implied that he saw her as Ana Helm, deferential to her parents’ bidding. Someone who wasn’t serious about starting anew. Yet the thought of taking him aside sent a frisson of … something down her spine. Made her stomach do strange things. To convince him that she wasn’t the Ana of the past meant acknowledging said past rather than letting it exist in the unspoken spaces between them. To speak of it while here in the halls of Sylveren, free of any expectations save for her own, that invited too many other thoughts.

Especially when she was supposed to be informing herself of the theory of magic and how the threads of it were managed in reliable ways by an informed mage. Dae sighed, propping the book up as she tried to make sense of one of the diagrams.

“Ana?” a voice called from the doorway. “What are you doing in here?”

Dae startled, jostling the book as she simultaneously tried to drop it and clutch it to her chest. A few pages crumpled under her fingers. “Shit.” The library wouldn’t be happy about that. She’d already been pressing her luck in cajoling the student staff member on duty to let her take it out of the building.

Distracted in trying to smooth the pages, Dae’s mind lagged behind the order of events, only registering that the voice had been familiar. Approaching footsteps announced that her interruption was about to get worse.

False, close-lipped smile in place, Dae looked up as Ezzyn stopped in front of her table. “Hello. Can I help you?”

A bemused expression crossed his face. “I was passing by and thought I saw someone in here.”

“Me.” Obviously. “Just doing some review.”

Ezzyn craned his neck around to read the title, but Dae quickly swept it from the table and into her bag. Rude? Possibly, but she’d never enjoyed feeling as if someone was reading over her shoulder or trying to peep at her work.

There was a soft huff of a laugh, but Ezzyn made no comment on her reading material. He wasn’t a regular teacher. Dae told herself that he probably didn’t recognize the beginner’s title with only a glance. Not when it had been over a dozen years since his own Initiate levels.

An awkward silence rose as neither made to leave nor speak. Dae fussed unnecessarily with her bag before remembering she possessed some manners. “I never managed to thank you for the assistantship offer,” she murmured, eyes still on her bag. “So, thank you. I’m not— It’s just— I haven’t made a decision.”

One would never believe she had once handled communications and projects for years at a high level, based on her current performance. Dae had given presentations to members of the Council of Standards, gods all break her. Not very many and not solo, but she’d done it, back before her engagement to Brint demanded she focus on her society agenda rather than work. Yet she became self-conscious and tongue-tied in the presence of Ezzyn. It made no sense; he was just Ezzyn. Royalty, the limited state of Rhell’s monarchy notwithstanding, but what did she care about that? It was a mark in his favor that he’d never stood on ceremony, either. But then, she shouldn’t have cared what he thought of her. She’d already hardened herself to the disapproval of those she held dear. That loss carried a mix of hurt and relief that Dae hadn’t taken the time to interrogate. Who was Ezzyn compared to that? No one. Meaningless.

“I see,” he murmured.

What was this strange blend of animosity and magnetism she felt when confronted by Ez? Ezzyn, because it had been far too many years for her to feel any familiarity with him, even if her brain kept trying to disagree. It made no sense. They were nothing to each other. Not really even friends. Never had been … sort of. Except, almost, but that was so long ago.

“Well, I should probably…” Dae gestured toward the door. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

“A moment, Ana—Anadae.” Ezzyn caught himself. “I’ve just come from seeing Vaadt.”

Dae froze. “Oh?”

“They mentioned that you seemed … reluctant to join the seminar I’m attending in my brother’s place.”

“I—” Dae cleared her throat. “I’m still getting used to—”

“I hope it isn’t because of me?” Ezzyn continued. “It’s a pass-fail course, and Vaadt will have all authority. If that was something you were worried about.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then I’m curious as to why you’re avoiding it.” Ezzyn’s blue eyes bored into her. “The deadline to register is midnight tonight. For courses and employment opportunities, in case you missed that part in the materials I sent. I’d hate for you to miss it and have, ah, regrets.”

His tone remained mild, conversational, yet that word, the implied challenge in it, made Dae’s eyes narrow. Any doubts she might have harbored after their run-in at the Mighty Leaf about how raw and present their past still was, well, Dae was a believer now. She wasn’t the only one haunted by that last conversation. By things done, and said, and the almosts of paths not taken. What could’ve been. The Kiss Incident. This many years later, she no longer remembered the taste of a prince.

Dae’s eyes closed in a long blink as she gave a small, wry shake of her head. None of it mattered because she was here now. Reclaiming regrets from the jaws of forever. “That’s very considerate of you, but I—”

A commotion at the door caused them both to turn. A young man stood in the hall outside the doorway. Laughter echoed down the hall as his classmates continued jostling each other out of view. Dae didn’t know them but did recognize the white and black armband that marked the first as a member of the university’s periodical. She had no idea if Sylveren’s school paper was strictly academic-focused or not, but years of experience had taught her the news, whether functioning as tool or weapon, was never benign. She shifted to the side, not too fast to draw attention, letting Ezzyn’s larger body shield her from view.

He noticed.

“Still the same Ana,” he said, mouth twitching up in more of a grimace than a smile.

“Meaning?” Dae said, cold stealing over her.

“Afraid to make a scene. Always.”

“Aware of my surroundings, you mean,” she countered. “Surely, a prince knows to be mindful of the press.”

“This is Sylveren.”

“Well, one of us hasn’t had years to become familiar with the place.”

“One of us chose that. Chose tedium and people pleasing. To meekly follow the path already laid out. You let others determine your life and you still cling to their ways.” Ezzyn scoffed, looking at her with something like disappointment and vindication in his eyes. “You choose to follow.”

“Because this lecture sets you so far apart from my family,” Dae said, a sour twist to her mouth. She picked up her bag. “I chose to come here, despite it pleasing no one. Present company included.”

She stalked past him, ignoring his murmur of her name. At the door, she paused to glare at him. “If I have any regrets, it’s that Garethe couldn’t make it. The seminar sounds great.”

Ezzyn dipped forward in a mock bow. “Don’t deny yourself on my account.”

With a last withering look, Dae left him alone in the empty classroom.

5 Years Ago

Escaping out to the immaculate gardens behind the mansion, Ana let the noise and heat of the festivities fade in her wake. It was the fourth celebratory event she’d been to since the official end of the conflict with Eylle, with many more planned for the coming weeks. She enjoyed such parties—in moderation. And perhaps she’d enjoy it more if she’d been able to attend without the unspoken, invisible, yet widely known claim of Brint Avenor that seemed to hang around her neck. Thankfully, though, Ana hadn’t seen him except from afar after the first half hour of the party.

Following a side path to a semi-secluded bench, Ana was dropping onto it with a grateful sigh when she belatedly realized the nook was already occupied.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, gathering her skirts. “I didn’t see—”

“It’s quite all right,” a warm, masculine voice said. “Please, stay.”

A Rhellian man stood in shadow at the far end of the bench, hidden from view from the main path. His pale blond hair fell well past his shoulders, appearing nearly white against the black of his light surcoat.

“Hello, Anadae,” he said.

She started at her name, peering at him through the evening’s dark. Though the garden itself had decorative lighting, the bench nook was situated just enough back that Ana’s eyes needed to adjust.

Sensing her struggle, the man stepped closer.

“Ezzyn!” She patted the bench in invitation. “I didn’t know you were in Grae Port.”

“Only for a few nights, at Jeron’s request.” He sat next to her, leaving a respectable amount of space between them. “Hoping to remind a few representatives to free up more aid for Rhell while moods are high. The war may be over, but we aren’t so foolish as to believe Eylle is content while our wellspring remains whole.”

“I can ask my father if there’s anything Transportation can do.”

Ezzyn inclined his head. “Appreciated. But let us talk of other things, please. I imagine we’ve both had our fill of diplomacy.”

Ana laughed, rocking slightly on the bench. “Fair. How are you? I haven’t seen you since the convention last winter. Are you at Sylveren now or doing research at home?”

“In the Valley for the rest of summer at least,” he said. “And you? Busy at Helm Naval?”

Ana’s smile waned. She turned her face upward to regard the many stars visible in the clear sky. “Not as busy as I’d like sometimes.”

A squeal of laughter sounded over by the garden’s main water feature. Through gaps in the hedge that cordoned off their nook, Ana saw Brint amongst a small group of men and women of similar age, likely his aristocratic peers. The group wandered away, one woman hanging on Brint’s proffered arm with too much familiarity for a man everyone knew was basically affianced. Not that Brint did anything to discourage such attention.

Ana went back to contemplating the sky. She didn’t begrudge the girl Brint’s affection, such as it was. Ana had long since been disenchanted with him. But if the other girl hoped for more, well, Brint didn’t seem to mind being locked into a betrothal. It didn’t stop him from dallying elsewhere, nor did such activity have any consequences. For him. Ana hadn’t forgotten the severity in her mother’s tone the one time she’d brought it up. Mina had impressed upon Ana the double standards by which the elite could live, even minor families like the Avenors, and how Ana simply had to endure for a bit longer. Though, now that her parents were enjoying their own social and political climb, Ana could guess that the standards by which her mother expected her to live had also changed. Grown even steeper, full of barbs. Daughters with dreams were naught but liabilities unless carefully managed.

Ezzyn watched the group depart, then glanced back at her. “Will you be announcing the formal engagement soon, now that the war is over?”

Ana remained looking upward. “I haven’t spoken with my parents about it.” A beat of silence passed before she added in a soft voice, “I don’t see a need to rush.”

“Why not apply to Sylveren now?”

Ana blinked, surprised. “Sylveren? A bit late for me, isn’t it?”

Ezzyn gave a nonchalant shrug. “For Initiate levels it would be unusual, though not unheard of. But you’ve enough skill to test into Adept One with some practice.” His eyebrows went up. “Unless you’ve forgotten everything I taught you?”

Ana raised her hand, turning her palm front to back as she concentrated on the steady pulse of magic she felt at her center. Slowly, lines of cool-toned light illuminated her skin, curling around her fingers. With a wistful sigh, she closed her hand into a fist, extinguishing the light.

“I can’t,” she said, voice laden with quiet regret. “Eventually, we’ll have the merger, and I’ll be expected to spend more time in the capital as Brint’s…” She couldn’t make herself say wife . For her, the word was a cage.

Anadae had convinced herself for so long that her life would follow the same path as her mother’s. That she, too, would enjoy working amongst the elite, learn to wield the soft power of a politician’s spouse. Her mother had. Helm Naval was involved in many new projects thanks to her mother’s skill at brokering deals at social events.

Ana could hold her own in business, though she didn’t possess her mother’s grace or her sister’s ambitious mind. But the thought of going out to pander on behalf of Avenor Guard, for opportunities that served Brint’s future, that was growing increasingly hard to stomach.

“When will you start making choices for yourself?”

“I … what?” Ana faltered, stunned by the frankness in Ezzyn’s tone.

Ezzyn frowned, though he looked more frustrated by the situation than her. “You’re wasted on politics. You could be a great mage with more training.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ezzyn ignored her protest. “Instead, you’re wasting your life letting others decide for you, content to be unhappy. Do you do anything for yourself?”

“I’m not— It isn’t that simple, Ezzyn.” Ana glared at him.

“Isn’t it, Ana?” Ezzyn nodded to the distance, where Brint’s group could be seen heading back into the mansion. “Forcing yourself to play a role, while he takes how many lovers on—”

“There’s no love lost between us, so I don’t care,” Ana muttered.

“No?”

Ezzyn had scooted closer on the bench, looming over her. So close that Anadae could feel the warmth from his body. His eyes were an intense shade of blue at this distance, the color enhanced by the garden’s intermittently placed, enchanted torches. She couldn’t look away, mind blanking as words deserted her.

A touch of the awe she’d felt back when he was her magic studies tutor fluttered in her chest. The four years separating them might as well have been a lifetime back then. Not to mention his royal roots. Practically a different species.

Now, midway through her twenties, those differences didn’t feel like the gulfs they once had, yet she was still transfixed by his stare. Reminded acutely of his good looks. Tall and lean, but with broad shoulders. Not bulky like Brint. Smooth chin and cheeks. Plush lips.

They were as soft as she’d imagined. His mouth slanted over hers, lips caressing, the tip of his tongue teasing at her closed mouth. His hand cupped her cheek as he coaxed her lips apart. A startled sound burbled in her throat as he swept into her mouth, spurring a pleased rumble from him. She gave his tongue a tentative stroke.

And then he leaned back, leaving her stunned.

Ana’s hand went to her mouth as heat flooded her face. “What … why … Ez.”

His lips curled in a smug grin. “That was a taste.”

“Of?”

“You don’t need to live a restrained life while your almost-fiancé fucks around.” Ezzyn’s nose wrinkled at the mention of Brint. “I can be discreet. The Valley isn’t so far from Grae Port.”

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about.”

“Fun. For a time. Are you opposed?”

“I don’t— I can’t…” Ana looked around, suddenly aware that, though secluded, their nook wasn’t entirely private. “People will—”

Ezzyn scoffed. “I’m a prince, my brother’s decision to make the title ornamental more than anything notwithstanding. You needn’t worry about me broadcasting our involvement.”

Ana fussed with her skirt to distract her hands. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Ah. If not love lost between you and Avenor, then some feeling?” Ezzyn said in a wry tone.

“No, not that. It’s just, I’ve never wanted this kind of a relationship. If you feel this way about me, I’m afraid—”

“Oh, Flame snuff me—just stop.” Ezzyn held up his hands. “I’m not suggesting anything like a relationship between us. I don’t want that.”

The rapidity with which he spoke lanced at something soft within her. Perhaps he was more like Brint than she’d thought, saw a lonely woman who would make for a casual tumble. Discreet and easily discarded in the morning. And maybe it would’ve been fun, like he said. For a time … like he said. But with her reputation and mother’s ire at risk, it sounded too much like work. Ana wanted more. Ezzyn, her old tutor and subject of a bit of a girlhood crush—the prospect of him threatened to be too much. The kind of fun that would make her crave something else, and he’d made it abundantly clear she should expect no such thing.

“I see.” She stood. “Forgive my ignorance. I should get back.”

“Wait, Ana.” She paused by the hedge. “Don’t give up on Sylveren, at least.”

She gave him a bland smile, heart sinking that that had been his parting thought. “Goodnight, Ezzyn.”

“You’ll regret it, Ana. You’ll regret it forever,” he said, not sharp but quiet. “You’re a mage. It’s where you should be.”

Anadae didn’t answer. She left him at the bench, his words heavy in her mind.

It was late enough that the lights inside the Towers had been turned to their evening levels. Dae hurried down the hall, scanning the nameplates on the doors. She hadn’t been to the Fire Tower before, seeing as she’d never had any need. It occurred to her, halfway around the building with no luck so far, that presuming Ezzyn would have a professor’s office in his brother’s place was a mistake. Especially when Garethe had been both a visiting professor and not a fire mage, and thus his office might not be in said tower at all. If that was the case, then it would save her energy in the long run to go back to the registrar’s office, desperately hope someone was still around past closing, and ask where Ezzyn’s office was. She’d finally read the damned forms he’d sent about the assistantship; he’d been given the “requisite space” to conduct his research. Whatever that meant.

The notice of her enrollment in the seminar along with her receipt of filing to be his research assistant were clasped in her hand, though they were starting to get crinkled and a touch sweaty. But the sight of them, the proof of her defiance to his snide beliefs, spurred her on, led her to an office door with a blacked-out nameplate and Ezzyn scrawled in chalk over the top. Gods all help her—his handwriting was more atrocious than she remembered. She didn’t pause or collect herself, just knocked once on the open door, confirmed Ezzyn was alone, and marched in.

Ezzyn looked up, mild surprise quickly hidden behind a wary expression. “Ana, this is a—”

“Anadae, or Dae, for that matter. I don’t care which, but kindly cure yourself of our old familiarities.” Dae slapped her papers onto his desk. “They don’t apply anymore.”

Ezzyn slid the receipts closer, his gaze flicking between the desk and her.

“You’re right, I made the wrong choice before. Staying in Graelynd.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a not-quite smile. “But I’m not too proud to own that and fix it.”

Dae took the notices back and slipped them into her bag as she spun around to leave.

She made it to the doorway before Ezzyn finally spoke. “Anadae.” No pause or stutter step midway through her name.

She glanced back but made no move to return before his desk.

Ezzyn’s mouth opened, appearing on the verge of saying something. But he closed it, made a soft huff through closed lips. “I’ll see you at the lab.”

Dae inclined her head a small amount and left.