Page 10 of The Exile's Curse

If Lucien was addressing the students, he would be there for some time. She'd told her father she was going home, but now she couldn’t. Not until she had herself back under control. Her mother would notice if she was upset, and that would only lead to questions.

She didn't want questions. Right now, they might break her.

So she walked, trying not to think, trying only to feel the sun on her skin and the sounds of the city around her. The students were in class, so she should be safe enough from any more unexpected encounters. She followed the cobbled path around the corner of the building, thinking to seek out one of the gardens, and almost knocked over the person coming in the other direction.

"Watch where you are—Chloe Matin? Is that you?"

Chloe blinked and focused on the woman whose robes she had grasped in a desperate effort to keep them both upright after their collision. "Madame Simsa! My apologies, Venable. Are you all right?" She loosened her grip and stepped back, surveying Madame Simsa with a quick glance, happiness at seeing her warring with embarrassment that she'd almost knocked her over.

Madame Simsa was thinner than the last time Chloe had seen her, a little more stooped perhaps—she carried a carved black cane in her right hand—and the wrinkles on her face had gained some friends in ten years. But her blue eyes were bright and sharp as she gazed up at Chloe, expression intent. She tapped her cane on the earth. "I will survive, I expect."

Chloe bobbed a curtsy. She’d spent too many years in Madame Simsa’s classes to lose the instinct to offer respect to one of her favorite teachers. "Again, I apologize, Venable."

"Where were you going in such a hurry?" The older woman looked her up and down, lips pursing briefly. "And what has you all stirred up?"

Chloe gritted her teeth. Madame Simsa was more than just her teacher. More an honorary sort of great-aunt. She’d taken an interest in Chloe from the time she’d first toddled the Academe’s halls in Henri’s wake, years before she became an actual student. They shared the same affinity for earth and water magic, and once it had been Chloe's dearest wish to grow to be just as skilled and formidable. So far she had fallen miserably short of that goal.

And she wasn't going to admit to Madame Simsa that it was Lucien who had thrown her off balance.

Madame Simsa had been married a long time ago, but her husband had died of a sudden illness when they'd both still been quite young. She hadn't remarried, seemingly content to carry on alone. She had never shown the students any sympathy if they let romantic entanglements get in the way of their studies, and Chloe suspected she had never much liked Charl. So no, she wasn't going to tell Madame Simsa that an encounter with a man had upset her.

"It is just...just unsettling being home," she said. "Part of me keeps expecting to wake up and find myself back in Anglion."

"I imagine it does," Madame Simsa said. "You were gone a long time." Her expression turned speculative. "Tell me, have you used your magic since you returned?"

Damn. It had only been a matter of time before someone asked her that. There was no need for her to use magic at home. They'd made changes to the house when Ana had been sick so she wouldn't tire herself using her magic to light earthlights and such. They had gas lamps and a number of ingenious gadgets to make daily tasks easier that required no power. So far no one had noticed that Chloe wasn't using her magic at all.

Henri hadn't asked about it. Chloe suspected it had never occurred to him to check. Magic to him was like breathing. But Madame Simsa had always been able to see into the heart of a matter. And she always pushed her students to hone their abilities. Chloe had been one of the students she'd pushed hardest, once. But her mother's illness, her marriage, and what came after had left her potential untapped. To Madame Simsa, Chloe's return would be a second chance.

"No, Madame. The need has not really arisen."

Madame Simsa snorted. "Since when does there have to be a need to use your magic here? I imagine you had little opportunity over inthatcountry, given their backward views, but all the more reason to use it now." She tapped her cane again, three quick staccato beats. "By the look of you, it would do you good. Come, young lady, we will go to the practice rooms. I will put you through your paces."

"I am not so young anymore," Chloe said. "Nearly thirty-five."

"Bah. Talk to me about your lost youth when you reach eighty or so. Earth witches age slowly. Plenty of time for you to do...whatever it is you wish to do."

"I hope so, Madame," she said. "But I don’t want to keep you from your students."

"I would not offer if I did not want to do it, or if I needed to be elsewhere, you know that. Besides, you can tell me some tales of Anglion. I learned something of it from young Sophie, but she was biased, being Anglion herself. You have an outsider's view. You can tell me more of how they differ from the way we do things."

"I’m not sure I can tell you much. The temple didn't let me in on all their secrets," Chloe said.

"Just as well. It doesn't sound like much good would have come of tangling with that Domina Skey. Trying to control the crown. Bad business."

"Not so much for Sophie," Chloe pointed out. "She's queen now."

"Waste of talent, if you ask me," Madame Simsa said. "She is strong, that one. We could have taught her much more. And now, no doubt young Aristides will be pestering us for staff to send over there to teach the Anglions what they have been denied all these centuries." She peered at Chloe. "I don't suppose you wish to go back there and help with that?"

Chloe shook her head. "No. I've had quite enough of Anglion for now. I would like to see Sophie and Cameron again and some of my friends, but I have no desire to live there for any length of time. Illvya is my home."

"In which case, you need to reacquaint yourself with the most important part of it." She tapped her cane again, as though striking down to the ley line that ran beneath the school, then turned on her heel and headed back in the direction she had come from. "Let us not waste time."

Chapter 4

Madame Simsa might be old, but she moved fast when she wanted to. Chloe had to half jog to keep up with her. "How is Belarus, Madame, and...Riki?" Belarus was Madame Simsa’s sanctii and Riki her petty fam, a monkey. Petty fams were an earth thing. Not many mages who bonded with a sanctii also had a familiar. The small boost in magic that a petty fam offered became somewhat superfluous to a water mage who had a sanctii to work with.

Though sometimes it was more a case of the animal choosing the mage than the other way around. Madame Simsa claimed Riki had chosen her, and Sophie said the same about her raven, Tok. Riki was as smart as the Academe’s ravens—the birds were a common choice for petty fams—and she had the extra advantage of fingers and toes and being able to climb far out of reach after stealing whatever object caught her attention. She didn't care much for human views of ownership. In fact, she seemed to delight in causing mischief. The ravens weren't above stealing shiny objects or begging for tidbits but were far less likely to make off with one's shawls or books or shoes. Though maybe Riki had grown more sensible while Chloe had been away. Petty fams lived past a normal lifespan, bolstered by their mage's powers, but they still died eventually, and Riki had been with Madame Simsa as long as Chloe could remember.

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