Chapter 30
~30~
A lise was right and they were in luck, amazingly enough, and Healer Jonathan Refoel was indeed on duty. That seemed particularly fortuitous given the run of exceptionally bad fortune they’d been experiencing up until then. Although, Cillian had to acknowledge, Tandiya Uriel had showed up at exactly the right moment. He owed the provost a great deal, more than Alise could understand, truly.
Especially as he couldn’t ever tell her.
He didn’t think he ever could describe to her how it had felt to be locked inside the prison of his own mind, unable to think his own thoughts. It wasn’t only that he likely wouldn’t be able to get the words out—though he feared he might not be able to—but also that he didn’t want Alise to know. He’d rather that she have no idea how profoundly that brief experience had affected him. She’d blame herself, which wasn’t fair to her and would only make him feel worse.
Those few minutes of being Gordon Hanneil’s utter captive had aged him decades and broke something deep inside. The one thing Cillian had always been able to rely on was his own intelligence, his ability to think . He would never be the hero, the beefy sword-wielder, or even a wizard worth much of anything besides sorting books. But he had always been proud of his smarts. Even at his loneliest, he’d always had his own thoughts for company.
Without that, he’d been reduced to nothing in a blink. A minor exercise of Gordon Hanneil’s prodigious talents and Cillian had ceased to exist. And that was on top of Cillian’s utter failure to take action against the vile man who’d hurt Alise. For all of Cillian’s nursing of his anger and dreams of revenge, when the opportunity had arisen, he’d done nothing at all.
He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget that feeling. If he’d felt unworthy of Alise before, Cillian’s complete failure to act in the face of that fight proved his worst fears. Not only had he failed to protect Alise; he’d been a liability.
“You’ll be fine,” Jonathan Refoel said, meeting and holding Cillian’s gaze, seeming to be attempting to reinforce the message on several levels. He rested his lean, brown fingers against Cillian’s temples, his mint-scented healing magic infusing Cillian’s mind with paradoxically invigorating calm.
Behind him, Alise hovered, face pale and drawn and dark eyes huge with anxiety. He’d done that to her. “Carrying that archive is a drain on you,” Jonathan continued, “but it’s nothing you can’t withstand. And don’t worry—your secret is safe with me. The primary problem at this point is that your encounter with the psychic wizard exhausted you. I’d recommend bed rest and a few nutritious meals to rebuild your energy, but I understand from Provost Uriel that there is an urgent need for you to travel to House Harahel.”
“Yes, that can’t be delayed,” Cillian said, forcing himself to focus on what mattered. His existential angst ranked far below getting this stolen archive to House Harahel for analysis. And it had been kind of Tandiya to withhold that he’d been summarily dismissed for the gravest of transgressions. “I’ll leave immediately.”
“And I’ll be with him,” Alise said, flashing him a stubborn glare, clearly annoyed that he’d said “I” instead of “we.”
In truth, as much as he’d dreamed about bringing Alise to House Harahel, to meet his family, to see all his favorite places, now he saw those fantasies for the foolishness they were. “You should go to House Phel,” he suggested, not meeting her eyes. “You’d be safe there.”
“Highly debatable,” she replied crisply. “And you can save your breath. I’m not letting you travel to House Harahel alone. I’ll go arrange for a carriage and supplies,” she told Healer Jonathan. “Can someone bring him to meet me by the griffin door in half an hour?”
“I don’t need to be escorted,” Cillian griped at her.
“When you can stand without leaning on someone, I’ll believe that,” she retorted, eyes snapping. Then she relented. “You’d insist on the same for me.”
She was right, which only bothered him more. He liked being the one to take care of her. That’s what he brought to the table. If he became a burden on Alise in that aspect, too, then what? He hated to imagine her staying with him out of guilt. But this wasn’t the time or place for that conversation—especially with Healer Jonathan present—and he could see Alise was entrenched. There would be no arguing her out of going. Maybe, once she’d satisfied herself that he was happily ensconced in the bosom of his family, he could convince her to return to the academy. That’s where she belonged.
If Alise didn’t graduate because of him, he’d never forgive himself.
“I’ll meet you outside in half an hour,” he told her.
“In the meanwhile,” Jonathan put in, “I’ll continue to infuse Wizard Harahel with healing magic. That should go a long way to helping him withstand the journey.”
Alise hesitated, as if tempted to say something more, then lifted her chin, nodded to them both, and left. Cillian let himself put a hand to the pocket where he carried her promise of a favor. He kept it on him all the time now, like a good-luck totem. Briefly he considered using it to protect her, to force her to separate from him. But she’d find a way around that. And something told him he might need that favor for a more extreme situation in the future.
Healer Jonathan gave Cillian an encouraging smile. “She’s worried about you. That’s not a bad thing.”
With the healer currently rummaging through his mind—a lot of that going around lately—Cillian could hardly argue, either about Alise’s concern or that he didn’t like it. “I worry about her, too,” he finally said.
“Sounds like a relationship with a future then,” Jonathan replied, winking jovially.
Cillian knew otherwise, but wasn’t about to argue that either.
He met Alise outside the griffin door, one of the side entrances to the sprawling complex that was Convocation Academy, so named for the stone griffin looming on the lintel. Somehow Alise had obtained a closed elemental carriage, very expensive.
“Courtesy of House Elal,” she informed him with a determined smile, though her eyes remained shadowed in the steady, but muted light of the elemental lantern she carried. “Turns out Papa forgot to take me off the permissions for our house carriage that we keep here.”
Cillian hesitated at the sight of the plush interior. “Won’t he be angry?”
“Like I care?” She snorted. “What Daddy doesn’t know won’t anger him. I already reset the air elemental pilot so no one at House Elal will detect anything. As far as they’ll know, it’s still sitting quietly in the garage. Hop in!”
He didn’t exactly hop, but he did manage to get up the step, steadied by the aide Jonathan had sent with him. Settling himself in the soft cushions, he had to admit the luxury felt like bliss to his bruised spirit and exhausted body. The archive hung heavy over his consciousness and he only wanted to sleep, his eyelids drifting closed.
He forced them open again as Alise covered him with a furry blanket. “I don’t need you fussing,” he complained, aware the doors had closed and they were already gliding away from the academy.
Alise tutted at him. “Shoe pinches on the other foot, huh? Just relax. It’s cold out and there’s nothing wrong with cuddling.” She tripped some button that raised a footrest, elevating his feet, which made him even more comfortable, curse it. Then Alise slipped under the blanket, too, snuggling against him. “See? Cozy. Are you hungry? I have a whole basket of supplies. From the dining hall, so it won’t be as good as your food, but Provost Uriel arranged for all kinds of excellent food and drink.”
“I just want to sleep,” he answered, thinking that the shoe did indeed pinch on this foot. And he was being ungrateful. Alise affectionately curled up beside him under a deliciously warm blanket, just the two of them, alone and together. This should be his happy ending.
“Sleep then,” Alise said softly, settling her head into the crook of his shoulder, and wrapping a slender arm around his waist. “Sweet dreams.”
He could only hope.
Alise and Cillian’s journey continues
in
STRANGE FAMILIAR
Coming January 2025