Chapter 29
~29~
A lise completely ignored the provost’s demand for information—and ran to Cillian instead of answering. “Are you all right?” she demanded, framing his beloved face in her hands, aware that tears coursed down her own.
Cillian blinked at her in vague recognition, but didn’t answer, and Alise choked back a sob. Rounding on the provost, she reined in the worst of her temper, but couldn’t hold back her own imperious nature. “You have to help him.”
The provost arched her platinum brows in affront. “My dear wizardling, I don’t have to do anything. Especially for a lower-tier faculty member, already on probation for a previous transgression, one who appears to have stolen a valuable set of archives.”
“He was trying to protect the archives,” Alise hissed, pushed past the limits of courtesy. “He only brought them out of the larger archives because I asked him to.”
Provost Uriel gave her a look of very real sympathy. “Alise, I admire your devotion to your lover and your willingness to take responsibility for him. This however, is exactly the concern with Wizard Harahel. It’s not the first time he violated his ethical code, and the rules of this academy, to please a pretty girl.”
Alise went spine-breakingly rigid with indignation. “I know about Szarina Sammael and this is not the same situation.”
“Isn’t it?” the provost returned coolly. “Through an academic lens, viewed objectively, the details are distressingly parallel.”
“That’s ignoring context and nuance,” Alise protested. “You’re not being fair to—”
“Alise,” Cillian said, his voice creaking as if he hadn’t used it in a long time, “Provost Uriel is correct in her assessment.”
Alise practically flew the few steps back to him. “Cillian! You’re all right?”
He smiled faintly, a hint of pain in it, and put his arm around her, less in affection than an obvious need to lean on her for support. “‘All right’ isn’t how I’d describe it, but I’m alive and in possession of my own mind.”
Call her picky, but she wasn’t much reassured by that.
“He needs a Refoel mind healer,” Provost Uriel instructed, not without sympathy, but clearly not happy with the situation. “His mental burden is difficult enough to carry. The Hanneil attack needs immediate attention if the archivist is going to be able to continue to endure the magic drain of holding those archives. Take the archivist there immediately, Wizard Alise. After which he can go home. I’ll hold Wizard Harahel’s dismissal until morning.”
“Until morning ?” Alise echoed, aghast at how fast things were moving. It wasn’t the question she meant to ask, but her thoughts were lagging behind her reactions.
“Yes.” Provost Uriel gave her a patient stare, Priyan grimacing in sympathy. “Once Archivist Harahel is no longer employed by this institution, he cannot receive Refoel services provided by the academy. He’d have to pay out of pocket. I’m doing him a favor.”
“This is not a favor!” Alise nearly spat. “You can’t fire Cillian over this.”
“I not only can do so, I must,” the provost corrected. “In truth, merely firing an archivist for removing materials from Convocation Archives will be seen as a dereliction of my duty. I will be called upon to answer for my decision to be so lenient.”
“ Lenient? ” Alise seemed to be incapable of doing anything but repeating key words from the provost’s incomprehensible statements. “You aren’t being—”
“Alise,” Cillian interrupted her again, squeezing her to his side. “Provost Uriel is doing all she can for us. She’s letting me leave. I can go home .” He gave her a significant look, and understanding dawned.
Home. Not to his faculty apartments, but home to House Harahel. With the Phel archives still in tow. Still, Cillian shouldn’t lose his job over this. She faced the provost defiantly. “I’m going with him.”
“That is your choice,” the provost replied, adding a graceful dip of her chin in resignation. “Though I cannot guarantee that you’ll be readmitted to the academy for a third time.”
“I’m willing to take that chance,” Alise said with dignity.
“No, Alise,” Cillian protested, the vigor of his denial entirely undermined by his unsteady weaving on his feet. “You can’t do this. Not for me.”
“I’m not doing it for you,” she returned fiercely. She wouldn’t say aloud how little she cared about graduation at this point. She retained that much discretion, at least. In a world where a Uriel wizard could squash a wizard with Gordon’s power, Alise could recognize she had a great deal to learn. She might need to return to the academy someday—but she didn’t have to be a doormat about it. “I’m finishing what I’ve started,” she said instead, catching and holding the provost’s gaze.
She didn’t think she imagined the glimmer of approval in Provost Uriel’s wizard-black eyes. “Off with you then,” the provost instructed, as if they said goodbye at a faculty reception. “I’ll deal with this mess.” Dubiously, she toed the heap that was Gordon Hanneil. Or had been.
Alise couldn’t be sure if he was alive and, in truth, didn’t really want to know. He would obviously never threaten them again and that’s all that mattered. “Come on, Cillian,” she said gently. “Let’s go to the infirmary. With any luck, it will be Healer Jonathan and we won’t have to do a lot of explaining.”
Cillian resisted her efforts to pull him along, instead facing the provost. “Thank you, Provost,” he said simply.
“You are welcome, Archivist,” Provost Uriel replied.
“I’ll need to clear my faculty apartments.”
She waved that off. “In time. I’ll have them sealed. Who knows, we may need them for evidence at some point.” Amazingly enough, she winked, then ruffled Priyan’s hair. The familiar smiled at her in adoration. “Now go. Oh, and both of you—please don’t set fire to anything else.”