16. Chapter Sixteen

I didn’t know what possessed me to ask her such a thing.

Lunch? Really, Kieran?

I had already decided that pursuing Arken wasn’t an option, no matter how attractive she was. I didn’t really do the whole “friendship” thing either, outside of a few closer connections with my fellow guardsmen. So why was I bothering with this? I had my moment of fun when I kept the poor woman in that cell for my absurd questioning. Why couldn’t I just leave her alone?

It’s not like I was a misanthrope by nature, and I had nothing against the woman herself—I enjoyed good company and good conversation as much as the next person. It was what followed in the wake of those things that I tried my best to avoid.

The expectations of consistency. The desire for commitment or plans. The pursuit of deeper connection.

It was far too risky for me to allow myself to get close to anybody here, and so I had developed some specific rules of engagement. I was doing just fine in keeping a casual circle of work acquaintances and a string of one-night stands—and nobody suspected a thing, because I was damn good at the performance. Charisma in the hands of the clever was one Hel of a defense mechanism.

So why in the ever-loving fuck was I inviting some innocent, curious looking Conduit to join me for lunch?

Calm down, I told myself. It’s one casual meal. It’s not like you’re taking her out on a date. Relax.

I sighed internally, supposing my subconscious had a point. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and Arken was an entertaining presence. I think I had gotten a rise out of her almost every time we’d encountered each other thus far.

Entertaining, indeed.

“So, where are we headed?” she asked casually, following my lead as we made our way towards the northern half of the Studium.

“I take it you’re not in the mood for the standard student fare?”

She made a face and I laughed, her scrunched expression suggesting that she’d quickly gotten bored of the repetition of the Studium’s dining halls. I couldn’t say I blamed her, either—the scholars were more focused on nutritional benefits than they were on actual flavor. That said, it was all free and you couldn’t really look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Gods, please, no,” Arken groaned.

“Don’t fret. I know a place,” I assured her. I had a feeling she would enjoy Corrine’s—the small café that was hidden between the pockets of administrative buildings near the Biblyos.

“Oh?”

“Just trust me, freshling.”

Arken rolled her eyes at the term, and I laughed again. I seemed to laugh often around her, and it was a breath of fresh air in contrast to my habits of more apathetic brooding.

“I think you’ll like it. Come along, Little Conduit.”

At a casual pace, the stroll from the amphitheater to the café took ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

“So what’s your story, Asher?” I asked her as we wove our way through the crowds. “What grand ambitions bring you to Sophrosyne?”

She shrugged. “Can’t say that I have any.”

I raised a brow. “I don’t believe that for a minute. Nobody comes to Sophrosyne just for the Hel of it. Where did you come from, anyway?”

“Samhaven,” she replied, nonchalant.

As I looked back at her, I saw her eyes drift around the city with that same sparkle of fascination and wonder that seemed to have a permanent place in her expression. Like anyone and everything was worth a second glance.

“Okay, but where in Samhaven?” I inquired. “That’s a rather large territory.”

The corners of her mouth upturned with the subtle hint of a smirk.

“Yes, though it is smaller than Pyrhhas,” she observed.

“Are you avoiding the subject on purpose, or do you simply delight in being difficult to talk to?”

“A bit of both, really,” she replied cheekily.

I resisted the urge to audibly groan.

“You are a maddening woman to try and get to know.”

Her sly smirk only widened. “Does that mean you’re trying to get to know me, then?”

So it would seem. I shouldn’t be, and yet here we were.

“Is that such a crime?” I countered.

“You tell me, Captain. You’re the local law enforcement, are you not?”

Arken snickered as I ran one hand through my hair in faux frustration. In reality, I was rather entertained by this, completely charmed by her quick wit. She really was something else.

“The Brindlewoods,” she finally answered.

“So you’re from Elseweire.”

“No,” she corrected, frowning slightly. “I’m from the Brindlewoods. Literally. I grew up in a small, nameless village right in the heart of the forest. It was several hours out from the port.”

Interesting.

“So what brings a small woodland creature like you out from the forests, into one of the largest cities in the world?” I inquired.

“Curiosity,” Arken answered. As if it were that simple. I rolled my eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to share details, Little Conduit,” I said. “You can just tell me to fuck off and mind my own business.”

“I’m telling you the truth, you pushy bastard,” Arken retorted, though she was still grinning.

I smirked back. Baiting her was far too easy, and far too entertaining for my own good.

“It’s hard to explain,” she continued. “The slow, simple life was all that I knew, but I was never satisfied with it. And it probably didn’t help that I was raised by a retired scholar of the Studium. Honestly, I blame her for the fact that I ended up here in particular… but I think I was bound to make a run for it eventually. I’ve always been a bit restless.”

That did explain quite a lot, particularly in how Arken seemed to carry herself. She was very clearly intelligent in the academic sense of the word, but she was also incredibly grounded. She seemed far more down to earth than the vast majority of her peers.

“That probably seems terribly naive,” she confessed. “To leave behind all of that safety, security, and comfort for what must seem like an errant whim.”

“On the contrary,” I replied. “I think it’s proof that you’re wiser than your years. Stability is a fleeting thing, and often overrated. It takes a lot of courage to follow your instincts like that.”

“Hmm. An interesting perspective,” Arken mused. “I suppose time will tell if it was instinct, or simply impulse that took me so far from home.”

“I’m guessing that for someone like you, those two things are one and the same.”

“Someone like me, eh?” Arken replied. “What makes you so sure about that?”

I grinned.

“We have more in common than you might think, Little Conduit.”

Once we arrived at the café, Arken took one look at the pastel storefront shrouded in wisteria branches, and turned to me with a raised brow.

“This is your first choice for lunch?” she asked, a touch of surprise in her voice.

“I’m offended, Miss Asher. Are you assuming I’m the type to let my masculinity stand in the way of Sophrosyne’s best sandwiches?”

“I mean, yes,” she admitted. “You don’t strike me as the type to frequent such a pretty place.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not pretty? Rude.” I replied, leading her into the shop.

The feigned expression of offense that I wore earned me an adorable giggle from the Conduit, and an unexpected frisson of pleasure ran through me at the sight of her smile.

Off-limits, Kieran. She’s off-limits. Move it along…

It was a nice enough day out, so once we’d ordered and retrieved our food from the counter, we sat down to eat on the small patio outside, and continued our earlier conversation about the Cataclysm.

Arken was, understandably, still processing the revelation of what really happened to Aemos. The truth of the Elders was a heady concept—why only nineteen remained, and why the Arcane Studium was truly formed. Most mortals—most of the world, really—believed that the Elders were just a collective of the last remaining gods, and that Sophrosyne was where they chose to settle. They thought that the Arcane Studium was just a university, albeit a highly prestigious one.

They didn’t know that the Convocation of the Nineteen carried both the aether and the burdens of hundreds, if not thousands of their fallen brethren, the remnants of our immortal predecessors’ power flowing in their veins. The mortals that often spoke poorly of the gods—those who took issue with their stance of neutrality in the modern age—they didn’t even know how much was sacrificed to preserve mankind as a species, let alone their freedom. And even though Conduits learned about it by default as part of their introductory studies here, a vast majority of them didn’t seem to care—but Arken did.

Her mind was utterly fascinating, and I was hanging on every word as she rambled through her thoughts on the matter. She barely took a breath, but every insight was surprisingly complex, nuanced, well thought out, and deeply empathetic. Arken seemed to view our history like a living, breathing entity. She talked about the past like it was something of great importance to consider, not just a forgone conclusion. Her frenzied enthusiasm for it almost reminded me of Viktor—though I promptly pushed that thought out of my mind.

Even as we strayed from the topic, there was something mildly unsettling about the conversation. Perhaps it was just that Arken saw the world in many of the same ways I did, which was… rare, to say the least. And somehow, we just kept stumbling into one another. Repeatedly. By sheer coincidence, as she claimed.

Interesting indeed.

“So,” Arken said, interrupting my train of thought. “Croissants for breakfast. Sandwiches for lunch. Do tell, Kieran. What’s your evening meal of choice? You do seem to be a creature of habit.”

I shook my head, disregarding the way it felt to hear her say my name out loud.

“You’re making some bold assumptions, Asher,” I countered.

“You didn’t even have to give Corinne your order,” she replied. “And you said yourself that you’re a regular at the bakery.”

Okay, that was a fair point, but I didn’t actually come here every day—unless it was late winter, in which case I absolutely did. In my defense, Corinne’s soups were unparalleled, and a bowl of tomato bisque paired with a cheese sandwich on a cold day? Divine.

Arken, on the other hand, was picking small bites out of a fluffy scone, seemingly quite content with the meal and her warm tea.

“Perhaps I’m just a memorable individual,” I suggested.

She snorted, practically choking on her food.

“What? Are you suggesting I’m not memorable? You wound me!”

I continued to feign offense—but Arken didn’t take the bait. She was too clever for her own good. And mine, really.

“Mm, it’s hard to gauge how memorable a man can even be when you repeatedly run into him,” she replied with a sly grin. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. But you’ll have to stay away long enough to become a memory in the first place. You’re certainly a noteworthy stalker, though.”

It was my turn to snort, and I crossed my arms with raised brows, challenging her notion that our repeated encounters were by design.

“I’m hardly a stalker, freshling. If I was stalking you, trust me when I say that you wouldn’t even know.”

“I thought we’d already established that I’m quite observant,” she noted over a sip of tea.

“You are indeed, I’ll give you that.” I laughed under my breath. “But you still wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Arken looked mildly offended by that assertion, which was cute.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Aside from being a verifiable specialist in reconnaissance?” I laughed, gesturing at my uniform coat.

“I mean, is there another reason?”

Hmm. Decisions, decisions. I paused for just a moment, deliberating on whether or not I should show her now, or let her figure it out on her own.

I chose to be self-indulgent for once, knowing that her reaction would entertain me. With a smirk, I lifted one hand lazily, calling towards the aether within. I pulled from the arcane energy of the sunlight and the gentle breeze, converting Light and Air to smoky tendrils of Shadow. There, in the palm of my hand, they formed a shifting, dark orb of energy in my palm.

“Holy Hel! You’re a Shadow Conduit?!” Arken crowed, almost shouting in surprise.

Something like that.

I stifled my laughter, giving her a wink. Thankfully, this corner of the Academic Quarter was fairly quiet this time of day. It was no secret that I was a Shadow Conduit, but there were only a handful of us in Sophrosyne these days. And I really wasn’t one for unnecessary attention.

Still, her reaction had been worth it. I was beginning to like her attention, specifically—whether it was necessary or not.

“I am, indeed,” I replied.

There was something about the way Arken studied the ball of umbral arcana in my palm, with hungry fascination and intrigue in her golden eyes, that was doing very, very distracting things to me. She looked utterly transfixed, and then vaguely disappointed when I exhaled and let the Shadow return into the aether.

When her gaze returned to me, those gorgeous eyes were still glimmering, a shy half-smile curling up one side of her face.

Gods.

“I am so godsdamned jealous of you right now,” she confessed.

“Jealous?” I asked incredulously.

Why? She was the rarer one between us. Light Conduits were almost unheard of.

“I’ve always found Shadow to be the most interesting element on the aetheric spectrum,” she explained.

“What makes you say that?” I asked, legitimately curious.

“Shadow just feels so… constant. Eternal, compared to some of the other elements. Darkness is this constant presence in life, no matter where you are. Even in the Light of day,” Arken said gesturing above us where the wisteria branches and their handing flowers were casting shadows on us both.

“And then when you consider everything that Shadow seems to represent to humans—even though we fear the darkness, it can almost be comforting to know—”

She broke off for a moment, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I’m veering off into poetics and philosophy here.”

“No, continue,” I said gently. “What’s comforting?”

The way this woman saw the world was so godsdamned refreshing. It was fascinating to listen to her slip back and forth between casual speech, and a much more formalized, academic voice. She had an impressively elegant command of language, especially considering she had only been attending the Studium for mere weeks. I knew of only a few others who could make the transition between tones so seamlessly.

“Well, I’ve always seen it like… Okay. If you go swimming or seafaring, you’ll experience an absence of Earth aether beneath your feet for a while, right? And clearly, we’re all blind in the absence of Light aether in the dead of night. Fire has to be summoned, and Water may be present in our bodies but it’s not readily available no matter where you are otherwise, right?”

I nodded, vaguely understanding where she was going with this.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a circumstance where there was no Shadow aether to be found. Because even in broad daylight, I cast my own shadow. I can sense that energy and its presence.”

Her gaze drifted from my eyes to her lap for a moment as she paused to think.

“To me, that almost suggests that there’s darkness in all things, by default. Even if it’s slight, just barely noticeable, Shadow is a constant in life. And I suppose that just resonates with me.”

“And why is that?” I asked softly.

Her fingers worried absently at the hem of her sleeve as she spoke, pulling at the threads. A nervous habit, perhaps?

“When you think about what Shadow represents—what humanity has attributed to darkness, even though we know that aether has no true emotional ties—we associate Shadow with things like… pain, or grief, emotional darkness in the context of poetry and art,” Arken continued. “And as humans, it feels like we fear those things in life just as much as we fear that total blindness in the dark. And yet it’s inevitable, is it not? Darkness is as inevitable as Shadow in life, and I find that to be more comforting than unsettling, for whatever reason.”

For a moment, I just stared at her. A strange blend of awe, appreciation and discomfort—feeling somewhat exposed by her insights.

A Light Conduit, comforted by the Shadows.

An unfamiliar swell of emotion was brewing in my chest, but I kept that side of me in its designated vise grip. Compartmentalized it, locked it away. Tossed the key into the Abyss. Yet even so, I was fascinated by this woman. I wanted to know so much more about her. Despite my better judgment, I wanted to know everything.

People who saw the true inevitability of pain and suffering in this world had often experienced enough of it to harden themselves, developing walls to weather that storm. Arken was still so very open, so soft.

How?

“I can’t say that I’ve ever thought about it like that,” I replied. “But I’m inclined to agree with you. That said, Light is just as incredible. It’s nearly as constant as Shadow, and you are much more rare than I am around here, Little Conduit.”

Arken seemed to visibly relax, her smile turning serene, as if she’d been anticipating that I wouldn’t take her seriously. Strange.

“I do hope you’re prepared for an onslaughtof Shadow-related questions if you make a continued habit of stalking me,” she said with a coy smile over another sip of tea.

Don’t tempt me with a good time, Little Conduit.

Because Source be damned, that was tempting. The impulse to make her a habit was already stirring, alongside an even darker desire to stalk the poor woman from the Shadows. I had trained myself out of such curiosities a long, long time ago, and yet…

“I’ve got quite a few questions for you, myself,” I murmured.

“Like what?”

Arken tilted her head in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected such a thing. For such a clever creature, she seemed to have a stunning lack of self-awareness when it came to how godsdamned alluring she was.

I chuckled.

“I’m not sure we have time for that this afternoon,” I said, though I wished it weren’t the case.

“Oh, come on, Captain! At least ask me one.”

She wasn’t forcing my hand, per se, but I didn’t want the conversation to end, either. I decided to go for the low-hanging fruit, something that was top of mind after listening to her speak for the better part of the last hour.

“Where did you study before coming to Sophrosyne? Did you go to preparatory courses in Elseweire or something?”

Arken laughed.

“I didn’t.”

“Bullshit,” I challenged. “There is no way this is your first round of formal education. You speak like a seasoned scholar half the time.”

At that, she snorted, though a corner of her mouth crooked upwards. There was a glimmer in her eyes that suggested she knew damn well how intelligent she was. Gods, as if I needed another reason to be attracted to her.

“I told you, I was raised by one! My caretaker, my mentor—Amaretta, she used to be the High Scholar of Clerical Studies here. She moved back to Elseweire when she retired, and then found that she preferred a more quiet life than the city could offer. Eventually she found her way and settled in with the village.”

“Even though we lived simply out there,” Arken continued, “She still had quite the collection of texts. And she never truly lost the urge to teach. I think I received an academic lecture for breakfast almost every day.”

That certainly made sense. I noticed that she said caretaker, though, and not mother, which only left me with more questions.

Unfortunately, though, I had to go. Both literally and figuratively.

I had work to do, running my men through plans for a few scouting missions around the outskirts of the city and monitoring the movement of a rather troublesome group of humans. Occasionally, they would attempt to harass guests of Sophrosyne as they came and went, and their numbers had been steadily increasing as of late. Nevermind the fact that we still didn’t know much about their intentions.

But I also had to get out of here before I set my mind on legitimately stalking this woman and asking for her entire life’s story.

I sighed as I stood up.

“Alas, I have a shift starting soon, and answering all of the questions in your pretty little head would most assuredly make me late,” I said, bowing my head in slight apology. “Until our next random encounter, Miss Asher.”

“Random,” she laughed, making air quotes with slender fingers. “But hey—thank you for lunch, Kieran. I’m glad I ran into you… this time.”

“Any time, Little Conduit,” I called over my shoulder, blanching slightly as I walked away.

Now why in the actual fuck would I say something like that?

Fates help me, this girl was trouble.