Page 8 of The Exile's Curse

Two more days. Imogene still claimed it would be only a small ball. Chloe still wasn't certain that she wanted to go. At leastshe would be well dressed.

"Chloe?" Henri prompted.

She grimaced apologetically. "I'm sorry, Papa. It is a lot to take in. Perhaps you could write down your recommendations so I can think on them some more this week?" His initial suggestion of a semester at the Academe to refresh her skills had somehow expanded to a year's worth of studies, and her head was whirling.

His smile was approving. "Of course, my dear. There’s no rush. Your mother won't thank me for stealing you away from her any sooner than necessary."

No, but it might be better for her mother if he did. Better for all of them, if they could find some sort of balance in this new life quickly. Which would be easier if she knew what her new life was to be. But she needed to give herself time. And her parents the same grace.

She rose from the chair by her father's desk and nodded to Martius, his sanctii, who was standing by the fire, as she gathered her purse and gloves. The sanctii nodded back, his dark eyes as inscrutable as ever. But his mottled gray skin had been cracked by a slow smile the day she’d returned home. Which was likely as close to an admission that he was pleased by her return as she was going to get. Somehow, the sanctii’s calm acceptance was easier to take than her family’s delight.

"Are you returning home?" Henri asked. "Or did you want to stay? We could lunch together. I believe those lemon cakes you like so much might be on the menu."

That could hardly be a coincidence. Just as her mother had been trying to keep her close, her father had been bringing up the subject of her to returning to the Academe for a year or so of study with not-so-subtle regularity. Lemon cakes—one of her favorite things—were a bribe. But as tempting as they sounded, her mother had been stuffing her with Illvyan delicacies for days, and if she returned to the Academe, she would be able to eat the lemon cakes regularly.

"Perhaps another day. I promised Mama I would be home to help her in the garden this afternoon."

Henri smiled. "Well, I dare not keep you from that."

Chloe nodded. "We can talk more this evening. Bring the list of classes home with you." Nerves stirred in her stomach. She needed to brush up her skills, and Henri's enthusiasm for magic was always infectious. But a year seemed a long time and, she suspected, another unintentional manifestation of her father’s desire to protect her. The Academe was half-home to her and, with the number of sanctii residing there with their mages, one of the safest places in the city.

She'd loved being a student, but she didn't think it was what she wanted to do forever. Teaching was Henri's passion, not hers. But until she did know what she wanted, the Academe was a good place to begin.

Lucien de Roche strode down the corridor of the Academe di Sages, mind still mostly on the stacks of paperwork awaiting him back in his office. He had spared a few hours, as he did twice a year to come and address the students who showed an affinity for the Arts of Air about his abilities as a Truth Seeker. His was a rare talent amongst illusioners. There were only ten Truth Seekers currently in the emperor’s service, and it had been several years since a new one had been found. They could always use another.

But he held no strong hope that there would be a student in this year's class who might hold the spark. If he was honest, it was always a mixture of relief and resignation when no one displayed the talent. Truth Seekers, once discovered, really didn't have much choice in the matter of their careers. It was the law and the service of the emperor. There had been, in the past, a handful maybe who had refused that call. Most of those had ended up choosing to serve the temple. Professing a religious calling was one of the few acceptable ways to avoid the long arm of the Imperial family.

Not one that tempted him.

No, he'd been happy with the law. Maybe it was from growing up watching his father settle disputes on their estate and seeing the very real stakes of such matters.

A talent for the truth was invaluable in the law. But it was unlikely that he'd be unearthing a new Truth Seeker today. Which left his mind free to contemplate other things. So he wasn’t paying particular attention to his surroundings when he turned a corner and came face-to-face with Chloe de Montesse hurrying in the other direction.

He stopped dead. So did she, her eyes flaring wide with what he thought might well be horror before her expression snapped into a coldly distant blank.

He bowed, manners drilled into him since birth difficult to overcome, though these days he outranked the daughter of the Maistre of the Academe by more than several degrees. But he owed Chloe courtesy, at the very least, having caused her no little chaos in the past.

"Madame de Montesse," he murmured even as his mind corrected the thought. It was Chloe's husband, his former best friend, Charl, who had caused the chaos and destruction rather than Lucien himself. He had only done what duty and honor and his goddess-sworn oaths of truth had forced him to do. It had given him no pleasure and endless grief to do so, though he had buried that in order to do his duty. He doubted Chloe saw it that way though.

"My lord," she said in an icy tone that sounded nothing like his memories of the laughing, vivid woman who'd been one of his closest friends.

It seemed, someone—Henri, presumably—had informed her of his change in status.

"I am here to address the students," he offered when she continued to stare at him, dark brown eyes opaque. With her black-streaked red hair braided around her head and color staining the golden skin of her cheeks as she stood ramrod straight in a simple dark gray dress, she looked formidable. Older than the Chloe in his head, which was confusing. Not happy to see him. The rejection felt like a slap, though it wasn't unexpected. She'd made it clear on the docks that she wanted nothing to do with him.

Careless of him to not consider that she might be at the Academe. He'd expected her to be tucked at home, enjoying the family she had so recently returned to, what, less than a week ago?

His heart had nearly stopped when he'd seen her on the docks. He'd had wind of the news that she was returning from Anglion. With relations between the two countries tentatively returning to something more open, there were plenty of ships filled with Illvyans being ferried back and forth to assist in the emperor's plans to assist Anglion's young Queen Sophia to solidify her reign, and they all carried news. But he hadn't known she was returning that day. It was pure chance he’d gone to discuss a matter with the captain of one of the ships in the de Roche fleet.

And suddenly there she had been. Where there had been a lack of her for ten years. Ten years where he had only known that she had fled to Anglion, and no more news than that had ever reached him. Ten years when he had never dared to entertain the hope that he might see her face again.

"I would not like to keep you from your task," Chloe said, still cold.

He nodded and stepped back, intending to bow and be on his way, but instead he found himself unwilling to leave as she stared him down.

Heart-stopping, indeed, that face. He had seen it for the first time the night of Imogene and Jean-Paul du Laq's betrothal ball. Imogene and Chloe had been standing across the room, Chloe laughing while Imogene had looked vaguely nervous under her immaculate makeup. As well anyone marrying into one of the highest families in the empire might. Chloe's dress was a blaze of red that had caught his attention against Imogen's betrothal-white. Imogene was a beauty, her face and vivid blue eyes the stuff of painter's dreams, but she had faded into the background once he'd seen Chloe. She had looked so purely joyful that it had caught him like a lure, leaving him dazzled as though he had stared too long at the sun.

And then, minutes later, the two of them had crossed the ballroom, and Imogene introduced Chloe to him and to Charl standing with him. It had not taken very long to realize it was Charl who had caught Chloe's interest. Charl, who was always charming and handsome and attracted women like bees to a flower. It had taken a little longer to see that Charl was, unusually for him, interested in return. That had been the point where Lucien had to turn away from the light.

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