Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alwyn
The next few days passed quietly. Ferym continued to work on healing his hands; each evening, some fingers would have more function, as new, tender skin replaced the burns and scars.
He walked a little more each afternoon with Krujha.
At first, they just made a slow circuit through the house, then around the courtyard outside, then up and down the street.
There were always some stares when they were outside, but orcs in the capital were becoming less of a rarity every day, it seemed, and no one outright bothered them.
As he slowly regained his physical strength, his grief lessened at the same rate.
The thought that Tessarion had arranged all of this just to discard him in the end, had possibly even given him this mission with the intention that he would not survive it, devastated him when Krujha said it aloud.
But the longer Alwyn turned it over in his mind, the more he thought that perhaps he, too, had suspected as much all along, but had ignored it until it was undeniable.
After everything that had happened, the thought of leaving the Order behind, terrifying as it was, had taken on a strange relief, too.When a week had passed, both of his hands were largely healed, just as Ferym had said.
They still felt a little stiff, and the healer couldn’t promise that he would get back the complete range of motion, but they would be entirely functional for basic, necessary tasks.
Considering they had been a mess of scar tissue and blistering wounds when he’d arrived, Alwyn would gladly take them.
Though his course of treatment was concluded, Ferym wanted to keep him close for a few more days of observation just to be sure, so they kept their rooms. It was just as well; the thought of returning to his room in the dormitory, while Krujha would be left to find a room at an inn, made Alwyn queasy with dread.
He might return briefly to collect his belongings, but with any luck, he would never have to go back to that dormitory again.
He felt well enough to walk around without an issue now, too, so he sent a note back to the Library that he would finally report to Tessarion the following morning. His handwriting was messier than it used to be, but at least he could write it himself.
“Should I go with you?” Krujha asked him gently as he folded up the parchment and prepared the wax seal.
Since their meeting with the king, Krujha had been handling Alwyn as if he were made of glass; the first few days he had felt fragile enough to welcome it, but now he felt stronger both physically and mentally.
The thought of facing Tessarion made him nervous, but it seemed such a small anxiety compared to everything else they had gone through in the past few weeks.
“I think this is something I have to do alone,” Alwyn said softly. “But I appreciate it. And maybe you can accompany me to the Library, at least.”
Krujha smiled back at him, and Alwyn felt his heart swell in his chest.
“Whatever you want,” Krujha agreed.
They had been cautious around each other while staying with Ferym—a few secret kisses before Krujha left for his own room each night was the most affection they had shared.
If Ferym suspected anything happening between them, he had kept it to himself.
Now, though, Alwyn was feeling almost back to full health; and while he was thankful for Ferym’s hospitality, he was also eager to get out of the capital as soon as possible, just so they could be more free with their affection again.
They had not slept together since their tryst in the rebel camp, and that felt like far too long ago.
The next morning, Alwyn dressed himself, glad for the independence, despite the pit of worry in his stomach.
King Ruven had told him to interact with Tessarion as normal, so he would have to continue to be the deferent student to his mentor’s face, no matter how their meeting went.
Hopefully, the king would enact his plan sooner rather than later.
Krujha seemed as cheerful as ever, whistling as they walked up the path that led to the castle.
The city was already bustling with activity, though it quieted down as they passed into the courtyard that would lead to the castle.
Instead of heading toward the grand foyer to enter the castle, this time Alwyn led Krujha through the courtyard and down a side path to the Library.
Though it was less formal than the entrance to the castle, it was no less beautiful.
The Library had all the same tall spires and bright windows, the architecture perfectly paired with the castle’s.
They entered a separate courtyard where clusters of elves in student robes sat on benches or directly in the gardens, poring over tomes or speaking with each other in quiet voices.
Here, Krujha drew more attention than he had in the rest of the city; but since he was with Alwyn, none of the curious stares escalated into anything more.
He kept whistling to himself, though. As they approached the entrance to the Library, Alwyn shot him a look over his shoulder.
Dutifully, Krujha fell silent, although he kept the familiar amused smirk around his tusks.
Alwyn led him through the winding hallways and stone steps, so familiar to him that he could have made the journey blindfolded.
Krujha’s curious eyes, taking everything in, made him appreciate its splendor all over again.
For all that Tessarion had wronged him, he would try not to let it entirely taint his memories of growing up as a student of the Library.
When they arrived in the hallway that would lead to Tessarion’s office, Alwyn finally paused.
It was a long hallway, stone walls on both sides.
Two small windows allowed in some natural light, but there were no other decorations on the walls—purposely nondescript and forgettable, as all the parts of the Library dedicated to the Order’s use were.
Just opposite the large wooden door of Tessarion’s office stood a long marble bench.
Alwyn had only occasionally seen other elves sitting there, waiting to speak with the Mage Princeps.
“Wait here,” Alwyn said to Krujha, gesturing to the bench. “Hopefully, I won’t be long.”
“Remember everything we talked about,” Krujha said softly; before Alwyn could turn away, the orc had caught one of his hands gently. His golden eyes were bright with encouragement. “No matter what happens.”
Alwyn managed a small smile. “I know. Thank you.”
He turned to the door, took a steadying breath, and knocked twice. Then he turned the handle, only to find the door was locked. He blinked, surprised. He was sure that this was the appointed time, but perhaps the Mage Princeps was still in a meeting with someone else.
It couldn’t be helped. Deflated, he turned back to Krujha and sat beside him on the bench, shrugging. They sat quietly, and Alwyn did his best to keep himself from nervously tapping his foot as they waited.
After a moment, Krujha leaned closer to him and whispered into his ear, “So do you think I’ll be accepted if I apply to join the Library?”
Despite everything, Alwyn had to press his hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Krujha pulled away, a self-satisfied grin stretched wide around his tusks.
A few minutes later, the door unlatched and swung open. A girl stepped out that Alwyn didn’t recognize, wearing student robes. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen with long, curly brown hair that was pulled up into a ponytail high on her head.
What he did recognize, though, was the look of utter disdain on her face as she stepped out of the office and eyed them both.
Her eyes briefly widened in surprise at seeing Krujha, before fading back into that familiar elven stoicism.
Though she was young, the way she looked down at Alwyn was unmistakable: it was the way he had looked down at so many other students and members of the Order before.
This was his replacement, he thought—the next of Tessarion’s favored pupils.
It had never really been about Alwyn at all.
Tessarion had made him feel so special and important, but clearly this girl had been made to feel just the same.
He was only another in a long line of tools the Mage Princeps had created for his own purpose.
The thought stung, but now he mostly felt sorry for this girl, who clearly believed she had Tessarion’s personal favor as fervently as himself, not so long ago. With any luck, Tessarion would not be in a position to manipulate any student for much longer.
“The Mage Princeps will see you now,” she said, her voice even and calm; but her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, dripping with snide arrogance.
“Thank you,” he said steadily as he stood. She gave him a sharp nod, spared one last glance over at Krujha, then turned and walked away, her steps echoing down the stone hallway.
Alwyn glanced back at Krujha, who smiled at him, and he managed a slight smile back. He was more than strong enough for this now.
The door was unlocked this time. Familiar magic washed over him as he stepped inside, his mentor waiting for him on the other side of his desk, as unchanged as the room itself.
This would, in all likelihood, be the last time he was ever in the Mage Princeps’ office. Alwyn couldn’t quite place the mix of feelings the thought elicited.
“Alwyn,” Tessarion said, pulling him from his thoughts as he approached. His face wore the usual impassive demeanor. “I’m pleased to see you’re recovered.”
“Not entirely,” Alwyn said with a slight grimace, taking a seat opposite him. “But enough.”
“I have heard the official version of what transpired in the orc wildlands,” Tessarion continued, barely acknowledging his response. “But I would like to hear your version of events.”