Chapter 9 #2
Luk shot me a sympathetic glance. “I’ll save you a seat in the dining hall,” he promised before hurrying off.
I watched Miss Fishwife plod out of the lab, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast.
Uncle Varro waited until everyone was gone before he spoke again.
“Care to tell me what game you and Baron Murad’s boy are playing with that first-year?” he snapped as soon as Teaching Assistant Emina had followed the last student out the door.
“Game?” I asked, my mind racing as I tried to come up with an explanation he would believe.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you two have been doing.
Neither of you is as clever or as subtle as you think you are.
” He scowled. “And I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
I had a long chat with Averin—that’s Mage-Instructor Mundise to you—yesterday.
They’re furious I’m not doing more to stop your stupid pranks.
They claim the girl is brilliant, and threatened to file a complaint with the chatelaine if I fail Talisa of Bernswick for circumstances that are, and I quote, ‘completely out of her control.’”
I took a deep breath and pondered my options. “Then why haven’t you done anything to help Miss Fish—I mean, Miss Bernswick?” I dared.
Before retiring from the imperial army and taking a teaching position at the academy, Uncle Varro had been a legionary mage. Like Father, he was a stiff-necked military man to the core.
My uncle’s eyes narrowed. I saw his neck redden beneath collar of his robe. Bad sign, I thought.
Whenever I drove Father to the point of a flush and dangerous silence, I received a beating.
I braced myself.
But Uncle Varro surprised me. “That’s a fair question, nephew.”
He stopped for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then heaved a deep sigh.
“I’ve seen her type before. Some farmer’s son or daughter from the middle of nowhere tests high for mage potential, and their family and neighbors treat them like they’re the second coming of the Seven Sacred Disciples.
Then they arrive here, dirt still under their fingernails, believing they’re the equal of those of us with noble blood.
” He shook his head disparagingly. “The sooner these young commoners learn their place in this world, the happier their remaining time at the academy, and indeed, the rest of their lives will be. It sounds harsh, but we’re doing them a favor by teaching them this lesson while they’re still young and impressionable. ”
“So we’re actually helping her by, ah, being hard on her?” I ventured.
Something about that reasoning didn’t sit right with me, but my uncle didn’t give me a chance to ponder it.
“Except your friend’s clearly nursing a grudge against the girl,” Uncle Varro said. “What in Nemara’s name did she do to him? Reject his advances?”
I shook my head.
“Threaten to expose that he’s got Fae blood?”
My heart nearly stopped. “Y-you know about that?”
My uncle gave me a look of pure exasperation. “As if it isn’t plain to anyone who has eyes! But his father was an imperial councilor, so we’re all obliged to pretend we don’t notice it.”
“Oh.” Mother of All, does Lukhan know about this? Or does he truly think he’s passing for pure human?
Uncle Varro was looking at me expectantly, so I said, “Yes, Miss Bernswick threatened to expose Lukhan. He—I mean, we—are just, uh, trying to encourage her to transfer to one of the provincial academies. Where she won’t be able to, uh, spread rumors about him.”
Uncle Varro nodded. “I suspected it might be something like that. But I can’t help you, and I can’t cover for you two young fools any longer.
You tell that friend of yours—” His mouth twisted as if he’d bitten into a sour plum.
“Beginning tomorrow, I won’t tolerate any more tomfoolery in my lectures or my lab.
If Miss Bernswick fails my course, it won’t be for any reason that Mundise—or anyone else—can file a complaint to the Academic Review Board about. Do I make myself understood, Damien?”
I gave my uncle a formal nod. “Yes, Uncle Varro. I’ll let Lukhan know that Miss Fishw—I mean, Miss Bernswick is off-limits in this class.”
Lukhan wouldn’t be happy about Uncle Varro’s edict. But I felt strangely relieved.
∞∞∞
Elio
I watched Talisa skip the midday meal for the second day in a row, trudging through the crowded dining hall with bowed head, the twins trailing behind her.
She ensured her sisters picked up trays of food, escorted them over to the first-years’ table, then left.
I frowned at her departing back. The cheerful, confident girl I’d met here a month ago had faded away.
Her hazel eyes were red-rimmed and dull with grief these days, and dark bruise-like circles smudged the delicate skin beneath them.
It was like watching a candle stub dwindle before its flame drowned in a pool of melting wax.
Someone tugged on my sleeve. I looked down and saw it was Mira.
“Please, Elio, can you help her?” She looked as fragile and worn as her older sister.
“She won’t listen to us,” Juno added bitterly. “We’re worried about her. She’s not sleeping, and she hasn’t cried since—since—”
The twins looked at each other with anguished expressions.
“I’ll think of something.” I pushed to my feet. “When was the last time Talisa actually ate anything?”
“Yesterday?” Mira answered, sounding hesitant.
“I think she might have managed a few bites of porridge at breakfast,” Juno said.
Mother of All, things were even worse than I thought!
I went back to the food line. There, I loaded up a tray with bread rolls still warm from the ovens, a ramekin of butter, fresh golden-green grapes, soup, and a tankard of cardamom-spiced pear cider, aromatic steam curling from its surface.
There were two places Talisa might’ve gone: the library or the common room on the ground floor of the Western Tower.
Food and beverages were strictly prohibited in the library, so I headed for our dormitory and hoped she was there.
When I arrived at the Western Tower, I thought the common room was deserted at first.
My heart sank.
Then I spotted her, huddled in a window seat beneath one of the arched windows.
Her knees were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her long, sun-streaked dark brown hair was loose today, as if she hadn’t had the energy to braid it. It fell forward to curtain her face.
I hesitated, not wanting to intrude on her private moment.