Page 56 of Elemental Affections

Ezzyn sank lower in his chair, arms crossed, as if he was a sullen teen again. “Keep this up, bastards, and I’m leaving.”

Jeron laughed, waving his hand when Ezzyn pretended to stand up. “Whiner. Fine. Tell us about your research. How is Magister Three treating you?”

Ezzyn described the current trials and what he hoped to work on during the field opportunity in the spring. Garethe had questions about the seminar, and though there was a touch of envy in his face, he seemed pleased with Ezzyn’s answers. The breadth of Rhell’s bioremediation needs were large and varied beyond Ezzyn’s admitted tunnel vision on finding a cure for the poison. Garethe took notice of student projects Ezzyn had brushed over because they focused on addressing needs he saw as irrelevant, either because they didn’t stop the blight or had nothing to do with it at all. When his brothers discussed the merits of introducing some new bug to predate an invasive one damaging the paper forests versus grovetender work to boost the trees’ hardiness, Ezzyn felt lost. He knew they were inclined toward thinking in the long term, but, as ever, it all seemed pointless to him if the blight could not be—at the very least—stopped. What point was there in protecting a forest that would die without the energy of the wellspring?

“Your delayed fire and ice trials,” Jeron said, switching back to Ezzyn without pause. “I remember seeing an ice proposal for the spring trip.”

“My research assistant, Anadae. Her proposal studies multiple applications, my trial only uses one,” Ezzyn said. As calmly as he could manage, he added, “I’m biased, but her work is very good. It meets all of the criteria for the spring study.”

Jeron and Garethe exchanged amused, knowing looks.

“He’s trying very hard to sound objective.”

“He is. I think we found our who.”

Exasperated, Ezzyn glared at them. “I didn’t say anything!”

“And now he’s being defensive.” Garethe tapped his chin in thought. “Anadae. Why is that name familiar?”

Before Ezzyn could reply, Jeron interceded. “Unclench, Ez. I remember the proposal. She’s on the short list.”

Stifling the urge to press, Ezzyn contented himself with a nod. Even if Jeron and Garethe ultimately went with other students, Ezzyn could cite her role as his assistant to bring Anadae on the trip. It wouldn’t be as expansive a learning opportunity as her intended plan, but it would still be relevant research. And she would be here, with him.

Jeron’s good humor waned. “Speaking of the trip, you should know about the new environmental organization that’s been proposed in conjunction with the Rhell Accord. The potential members are using the spring trip as a first meeting to determine the org’s mission and if it’s all viable.”

“New organization? The Assembly is forming a—”

“Not the Assembly. An international effort,” Jeron said. “Restorers of the Alliance.”

“How catchy. So, not only are you moving forward with the Accord, but you’re giving outsiders a controlling interest in Rhell?” Incredulity made Ezzyn’s voice crack.

“Calm down,” Jeron said. “We’re in discussions. I’m notgivingthem anything. The Assembly voted and approved it. And it’s not a controlling interest. They would advise and recommend—”

“You’re the king. You could oppose it.”

Jeron’s jaw tightened. Eight years, he’d been king, and never had he called on the limited powers left to him when Rhell had transitioned to the nonpartisan Assembly. The monarchy was more legacy than anything else, something Jeron was proud of. Even their mother, so aghast at first when her eldest son had proposed it, had grown to approve of the change. Ezzyn knew it, yet the notion of a horde of unknowns coming in to dictate approaches to a problem they knew nothing about, one they had no stake in, it rankled.

Anger and panic clashed within him, made his fingers go white at the tips as he gripped the arms of his chair. He clamped down on the urge to argue further. Went silent, his words and the judgment within them left in the open.

“We need this, Ez,” Garethe murmured, breaking the standoff. “We can’t keep taking on the burden of restoration alone. It’s not so different from the arrangement with Sylveren.”

“How is it the same?” Ezzyn snapped.

A contract with the university, he trusted. The seminar and the fellowships were still the purview of Rhell. His brothers decided which would be approved. Administrative details and financials were negotiated with Sylveren, but the Rhellian government had control. Ezzyn had worked with supposed environmental groups before. Had made the trip to Graelynd’s capital multiple times to lobby for aid. “International” meant Graelynd—possibly someone from the Radiant Isles and Sylveren, too, but funding for any kind of organization began in Central. Graelynd had shown they cared about commerce first during Eylle’s war with Rhell. They could slap a new name on themselves, but Ezzyn didn’t trust that any mission statement would be anything less than self-serving.

“Multiple people at Sylveren and Grae U have been working toward something like this,” Garethe said. “And mages from three nations across the sea.”

“If you’ve been working on this for so long, why haven’t I heard about it until now?”

“Perhaps because I didn’t want to fight ten bouts with you over something that is happening regardless of your tantrums,” Jeron said in chill tones.

“Tantrums?” Ezzyn stood, fists resting on Jeron’s desk as he leaned forward. “I have been bleeding myself dry for years—”

“No one asked you to be so obse—”

“No one had to ask me. It’s my duty—”

Garethe cut across them. “We lost Den’olm.”

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