Chapter 56 Taera
Taera
Nikolai is still in a mood the next morning.
He’s back to reading his book and ignoring me, and hasn’t spoken a single word.
Last night I watched him lie atop his sheets with the shredded skin of his back to the open air.
The guilt of it consumed me. But today he’s back in robes like nothing happened, except that he won’t look at me.
He was the one who lashed out after I failed his impossible task—a task he didn’t train me for. My bitterness returns with a vengeance.
Despite my twisting resentment—and the sting of betrayal that he’s made no effort to help prepare me—I make myself repeat all my textbook exercises. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough, but it’s more direction than he’s offered.
Omi rescues me late morning with a knock on the door and a shy smile. Nikolai barely raises his eyes from his page long enough to watch me leave.
At last, it’s just me and my friend in the hallway, on the way to my first shift at the Healers’ Hall. I feel much lighter.
“I’m looking forward to having company,” Omi tells me, leading the way. “Usually I work by myself.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying to shrug myself out of the bad mood Nikolai left on me.
“I also work in the forge, but it gets really hot down there, and being underground takes some getting used to. I figured you’d like the Healers’ Hall better.”
“Thank you.” Then, trying my best to make conversation, I add, “I’m interested to see how illusionists work as healers, anyway.”
“You won’t see too much of the magic,” Omi says regretfully. “Our work will mostly be in the back room.”
A large white circle of a door comes into view ahead of us, and the idea of injured patients trying to get in and out makes me want to laugh. It’s a ridiculous door.
“Welcome to the Healers’ Hall.”
Omi leads me through the round entrance and into the sleek marble room beyond.
It’s lit by a soft white glow that illuminates the crisp white sheets on the row of beds.
I can’t see any patients, but creamy-pink curtains are pulled around some of the beds.
I can’t hear any patients, either. A white-robed magician appears from behind a curtain, startling me, and they close it tightly behind them. They give Omi a nod.
Omi takes me to the very end of the room and opens a door at the back. A laboratory lined with endless shelves of vials and tinctures stretches behind it. Entire flasks of distilled oils, jars full of rare plants like moonwort, and more sarsaparilla than I’ve ever seen in one place…
My lungs tighten. A fraction of these supplies, every vial carefully labeled and made of glass, and I would never have to worry about scavenging again. The village apothecary feels like a joke next to the abundance of perfectly preserved ingredients lining these shelves.
Is this what it would feel like to be a real healer?
Omi quickly runs me through the list of tasks, mostly cleaning, inventory, and filling simple orders etched in neat lists.
They fuss after me at first, but when I identify the telltale orange coils of murkroot and amber tint of woolly barbush resin with one glance, they stare at me with a baffled smile.
“You’ve worked with these herbs before,” Omi says, brows raised.
I smile. “My family used to own an apothecary.”
“What happened?”
My throat tightens. “After my mom was gone, we really struggled and had to sell it. Then I worked for the new owner.”
Omi nods, but moves on briskly. “You’re not a healer then?”
“No,” I reply.
“Do you want to be?”
The question hits me like a memory of my mother—a rush of warmth followed by devastation. A life that I shouldn’t be imagining.
“I haven’t thought about it in a while,” I say quietly. Omi glances at me curiously, but when I keep my eyes down at the bottle in my hands, they don’t question me further.
“Well, it’s nice that you’ll actually be useful. It usually takes new folks a few months.”
“I’m glad.”
“I’ll make sure you get paid at the end of the week, as well. That way, if exams don’t go well…”
“If exams don’t go well?” I prod.
“Well—” They fiddle with a bottle. “I told the healers you’re in fourth year. They don’t take anyone below third. If you were in first year… it would be hard to make money.”
My stomach sinks. If my crazy plan doesn’t work out, I’ll be stuck here for years and I won’t be able to support Ezran and Gramps.
“How is your exam preparation going?” Omi asks. “I heard that you and Niko were… becoming closer.”
I grimace.
“Don’t worry,” Omi says. “I’m sure that with Nikolai, you’ll make it through the partnerwork with flying colors.”
“The partnerwork?”
“Yes.” They blink. “The exam is split into the partnerwork and the individual.”
“There’s an individual part?” My face contorts into an even uglier shape. How in the desert am I going to pass this exam if I have to do some of it by myself?
Omi tries a few more times to make conversation, and I’m disappointed by my own lackluster responses.
At least we finish our work quickly together.
I hope we get paid based on efficiency, rather than hours.
I haven’t had the courage to ask Omi how much we’re going to make.
The question feels self-absorbed, after everything they’ve done for me.
And it’s not like I have any other options…
besides selling magic on the black market.
I shudder. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice by walking straight back into the clutches of leeches.
Only a few hours pass before we’re done.
“Want me to walk you back?” Omi asks. I remember the awkward silence between me and Nikolai.
“Where are you headed?”
“The dining hall, probably.”
“Can I stick with you for a while?”
“Sure.” Omi smiles. We pad quietly, but comfortably, down a maze of corridors until our destination appears. It seems like direction doesn’t matter here: it’s about where you intend to go. And whether the Halls want you to get there. I groan.
“Omi! Tae!” Annie waves at us from a table, and I smile at the familiar, pretty face. Then, the golden-haired head beside Annie turns in my direction and my expression freezes. His features crest into an easy smile, and when his glittering green eyes meet mine, he winks. Then, he beckons me closer.
I’m drawn to him like a desert moth.
Trying not to trip over my feet, I approach the table with Omi. Nikolai reaches out and trails his fingers down my arm—eliciting a shiver—before lacing them with mine.
“I missed you, Taera.” Nikolai’s smile is pure sin.