Page 26 of The Sundered Realms

“My point is that they invoke the idea of magic, not that they actually do anything.“ He paused. “You may wish to warn any future friends or partners that you feel so strongly on the matter before they accidentally offend you. They really are a common gift.”

There had never been a reason for anyone to give her gifts, so that was a nonissue. “Thank you. Now I will know not to take offense. Here—is this right?”

A rhetorical question. As long as there was nothing more he expected than an accurate copy, she was certain it was.

His eyes flicked to her work. “Impressive. Fast and precise. Let’s get moving.”

Liris blinked again. “Didn’t you need to replenish your stock of spells?”

“Yes. Now I have plenty.”

She frowned. “Then you were just humoring me?”

Lord Vhannor shrugged. “You wanted to, and it’s an easy request for me to grant. So if you want to put it that way, yes. If it makes you feel better, I was also curious how much you learned yesterday.”

It did make her feel better, though that in turn made her wonder if it was wrong that she trusted being tested more than a favor that came without expectation of repayment. “And?”

“And as I said, you’re impressive,” Lord Vhannor said. No amusement or admiration in his tone, just matter-of-fact assessment, and somehow that made it hit harder. “Yesterday it was clear you had no training in spell construction, but after one complicated spell, you correctly reverse-constructed how this one would be dispelled. Of course, that isn’t actually how we write spells—what you’ve just done in one try is actually more complicated. You won’t get much of that beyond theory until you have a third-tier license.”

Oh. He could make an exception and show her—while supervising—because he ran the university. But of course there were more limits she’d have to clear. Of course it was reasonable that she’d experienced what she was instantly certain she wanted to devote herself to and that she would be held back from doing it.

Still passing tests, still more talented than anyone expected, still not able to actually do what she wanted, which was to say, anything that mattered.

“I see,” Liris finally managed. She held the pen out. “I suppose we should go, then.”

He didn’t take it—he looked away from her. “There might be ways to speed up the process,” he muttered.

Liris’ hand tightened on the pen. Was he stringing her along for something, or did he mean to help?

Lord Vhannor glanced back at her, then scowled and shoved to his feet. “But it will have to wait until you’re at the university. Let’s get moving.”

No promises, but a dash of hope.

Liris had survived on less for longer.

They started in silence. Lord Vhannor thought nothing of doing one nice thing for her when there was self-interest involved, but lacking a plausible excuse made him uneasy, apparently. It made her uncomfortable too, so she couldn’t really blame him, and she was plenty occupied taking in their surroundings.

In fact, that was an understatement. She was trained to take in everything at a glance, but then she’d spent most of her twenty-three years of life in exactly the same space. Hopefully she’d acclimate quickly, or she’d be overwhelmed observing and processing every stray detail.

When they emerged out of a patch of trees, though, she sucked in a stunned breath, unable to take in the full magnitude of the view in just an instant. Surely, no one could blame her for pausing.

Liris stepped away from Lord Vhannor’s shadow toward the edge of the cliff, gazing into the distance. Etorsiye’s haze was still out there, but in clumps like soft gray pillows. She could see through them, beyond and above them: the rolling green hills that seemed to extend forever, speckled with settlements and sheep; the cool, crisp freshness in the air; the sun shining behind them and illuminating it all like a gift.

Before, in the swamp, she’d been struck by the difference from Serenthuar. Now she saw that on another scale: the breadth of the world, the worlds. It was one thing to read about vast, rich landscapes, to memorize facts and see them evoked in art, and it was another to stand on a high edge and feel as though she could gaze out over an entire realm teeming with life.

Lord Vhannor made no sound, but she felt her skin prickle like an icy wind had picked up and knew he’d followed her. “It is remarkable, isn’t it?” he murmured, and the hairs on her arms stood at attention at the sound of his voice.

He asked almost like the idea had surprised him, like he wasn’t used to just pausing to look, but Liris’ eyes pricked with tears. It might have been the brisk wind. It might have been the tangible knowing, that she might finally get to be a part of the enormity of possibilities out there.

“Yes,” she whispered; swallowed. Pointed. “Is that—?”

“Yes,” he echoed bitterly. “The swamp will take generations to recover. But it will.”

A gray patch in the midst of all the green—like someone had sucked all the color out of a painting at just one point.

Any slower, and the whole realm would have been consumed.

Liris took a deep breath, committing this to memory, and then turned. “I’m ready now.”

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