Chapter 11
Ellie
Caeo slides into the booth next to me, sweeping the tousled locks of his raven hair out of his face, and puts a bowl of honey chips between us.
I take one, munching politely as its sweet flavor fills my mouth, with only the slightest hint of salt.
The tavern’s still uncomfortably loud, but the buzz of activity’s grown more tolerable in the weeks since I left home.
“Sorry that took so long,” he says. “My brain doesn’t seem to be working right. Must be that melon drink.”
I try a joke, hoping to get things back on track. “My brain’s still working, so it must be you.”
“Wonderful.” But his tone conflicts with the sentiment.
Should I try again? He said he liked my sass. “It’s alright. I didn’t like you for your brains, anyway.”
Instead of the laugh I hoped for, Caeo wilts. No smile, no witty retort. Is it possible to ruin everything with a single sentence?
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it that way.” I reach for his hand, praying he’ll squeeze it back.
He does, and my throat unclenches. “It’s fine, really. I’m only going to the Academy because I grew up here, and that’s what everyone does if they have nothing better to do. I’m not like Reid. He actually cares about it.”
A warmth spreads through my chest; I’m not the only one unenthusiastic about being here. And he gave me an easy way to change the subject, as if he knew I needed it.
“He is pretty dedicated,” I say, shifting closer to him.
Caeo slides his arm around me, and it’s as if my blunders never happened. “We saw one of the recruitment shows the Order does when we were kids. Once he saw what those incanters could do, that was all he wanted in life. Said it called to him. Lucky bastard.”
“Lucky?”
“He knows what he wants, and he’s actually good at it. Whereas Beckwith and Dewey have already threatened to fail me out before the end of the term.”
My stomach sinks. I barely see him already; it’ll be worse if he’s on campus even less. “It’s going that badly?”
Caeo rummages through his pocket and pulls out an aquamarine, placing it on the table. He traces an elementary focal around it with his finger while reciting one of the simplest water incantations I know—one my father had me mastering at six years old.
Nothing happens.
That’s impossible.
“What? How did that not…?” I pick up the stone as Caeo slumps back. The table’s completely dry, not even a drop of water. That should’ve been like emptying a bucket onto the table.
“But you said everything perfectly, and the focal was correct.”
“It’s like that every time. All it does is give me a massive headache. There’s no way I’ll make it through the semester.”
“I didn’t know it was possible to be this bad at incanting.” I rub the inexplicably dry spot on the table. “I was always told everyone could do it. That it simply took practice.”
“That’s not really helping my ego.”
My entire body grimaces. “That came out wrong. I’m sorry.”
He huffs as he returns the aquamarine to his pocket, then takes my hand. “You are so bad at conversations sometimes.”
My fingers flinch. “What?”
A smile tugs at his face as he rubs my thumb with his. “It’s like, you either plow ahead without thinking at all, or you try too hard. Nothing in between.”
“That’s not… I just…” I pull my hand away, but his grip tightens.
“Hey.” He tilts his head, trying to pull me back to his eyes. “It’s fine. I’m not one to talk. I’m terrible at most things.”
“Because you don’t try.” I didn’t mean to say it, but it’s true. Not once have I witnessed him paying any attention in History.
Caeo’s mouth falls open, and the fear that I’m ruining everything rushes back. I stutter an apology, but he cuts me off.
“No, you’re right. I don’t.” He sighs, then runs his hand through his hair. “I guess at some point, I decided it didn’t matter how much effort I put in, so why bother?”
“But then you’ll never succeed at anything.”
He rubs his brow, then looks back at me. “Alright. I’ll work on trying harder, and you just… relax. Take a beat, but don’t overthink things. And stop feeling like you have to fix everything. Deal?”
A smile blooms across my face. “Deal. And you can start by letting me tutor you.”
“Did you already forget the part about not fixing everything?”
“I’m not fixing you—I’m trying to support you.”
Caeo’s eyes narrow as he holds back a smirk, then he exhales. “Reid’s already tried—like you said, I did everything right. It just doesn’t work for me.”
“Still. You should join us when we study. Your foundational assignments are the same, and we can make sure your incanting work shows an understanding of the material. Maybe that’ll be enough for them to let you stay?”
“Yeah, maybe.” He rubs my fingers for a moment before grabbing a chip. “But what about you? It doesn’t seem like incanting calls to you, either.”
It’s my turn to sigh, my gaze landing on the silly wooden duck at the center of the table. “Not at all. I’m here entirely because of my father. High Marshal Detura, if you’ve heard of him.”
“He’s your father? The High Marshal of the Order of Incanters?” Caeo pushes himself a respectable distance away from me. “You should’ve told me that before I stuck my tongue in your mouth. I’m a dead man.”
“Relax, it’s not like I’ll tell him about that.”
“You don’t have to. He’ll know. Fathers always know.”
“Anyway”—I pull Caeo back to me—“while he’s a viscount, he earned his title through service, which means I won’t inherit it. That limits my marriage prospects, so it’s always been expected I’d follow in his footsteps. Coming here wasn’t a matter of choice.”
His fingers brush against my side. “And if you’d had the option?”
“Then I wouldn’t be here. I suppose you’ll have to thank him for that.”
“Right before he murders me,” Caeo mutters, then winces.
I flick his arm playfully. “He’s not going to murder you.”
“Uh huh.” Caeo tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “But seriously—what would you do if you weren’t here?”
My heart catches. No one’s ever asked me that.
“I don’t know… I doubt I would’ve had any interest in incanting if it weren’t for my father, but it’s taken up so much of my life that it’s all I am.
There was never a chance to find a purpose of my own.
” Even my tutors’ lessons, while well-rounded, all led back to something I’d need to know as an officer in the Order.
“Not even painting?”
He remembered. Warmth spreads from my smile to my toes, and I wrap my arm around his, snuggling into him. “I enjoy it, but it’s not really a purpose. Just something that makes life more bearable.”
“I get it. Sometimes I feel like I’m a square block being shoved into a circular hole.”
And in that moment, he sees me more than anyone else has. Like sunlight thawing my skin on a cloudy day.
He brings his finger to my chin, tilting my face to meet his smoky eyes. “You know what makes my life more bearable?”
He’s so close that his clove scent fills my lungs, a heat curling deep within me.
“What?”
His face tugs into a smile. “You.”
My breath hitches as my lips part, anticipating his kiss. I lean close, closing my eyes…
Instead, he touches his forehead to mine and whispers, “Come with me.”
He threads our fingers and pulls me out of the booth, weaving us through the crowded tavern and out into the chilly night, only a few bells past sunset.
“Where are we going?” I ask breathlessly, then Caeo sweeps me into his arms with a kiss that lifts me to my toes. Three chimes from the clock tower ring before he releases me, my arms still wrapped around his neck as he brings his lips to my ear, his warm breath brushing my skin.
“I have an idea.”
He pulls me toward the center of town, my mind barely keeping up with my feet as they stumble along the cobblestone street. Paper lanterns, glowing a warm peachy pink, light our path as we pass villagers and Academy students, chatting excitedly about their night out.
Moments later, we stand at the brick wall surrounding the base of Haven’s clock tower, which rises multiple stories over the surrounding buildings. Supposedly it’s open during the day to climb to the top, but the wrought-iron gate’s currently locked.
“They built this wall after I fell and cracked my head.” Caeo glances around before leaning close. “Are you willing to commit a few more crimes tonight?”
My eyes widen. “What are you thinking?”
“We need to get over the wall.”
I look it up and down. It’s about eight feet tall.
“I think I can do that.”
After ensuring no one else is around, I focus my incantation on where the wall meets the earth.
Thick vines sprout up, slithering along the clay bricks before curling over the top.
Caeo tugs on them to test their strength—they don’t budge.
He briefly releases my hand as he scales the wall ahead of me, waiting at the top for me to join him.
Our fingers entwine as I summon wind to cushion our landing on the other side, then destroy all evidence of our passing by crumbling the vines to dust. I can’t tell in the darkness if three incantations were enough to make the bricks fade, but at least no one else would, either.
Caeo leads me across the yard to the tower, constructed mostly of wood and stone.
While I know someone decorated every inch of the exposed wood with floral designs in every color imaginable, it’s too dark to appreciate their work.
As we climb the interior stairs, I run my fingers along the walls, noting they’ve also been painted, but I can’t make out the details.
“You see this flower?” Caeo asks, pausing to point at a spot in the inky blackness. “I added the face when I was twelve.”
I can’t see anything, so I just say, “It’s nice.”
“Nice?” He laughs. “You can be honest. It’s pretty gruesome.”
“You’ll have to bring me back sometime when it’s light out.”