Page 62 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“Thatdepends. Was it something other than tea and bread?”
Alain hesitated. “I think this is a conversation best cut short.”
Shaking her head, Mavery crossed the threshold and dropped her pack in its usual spot by the desk. Gods help her, she would find some way to force this man to take a night off. There was still an abundance of alchemical supplies in the next room, including dried nightshade hanging from one of the rafters. A single petal, ground into powder and mixed into his tea, would put him to sleep for a few hours…
No, she wasn’t yet that desperate.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “I failed to take my own advice and get some rest. But you won’t believe the progress I’ve made!”
His notes blanketed the tea table. To her, they were gibberish. One page was completely covered in inkblots; either Alain had spilled an entire well upon it, or his pen had ruptured under the strain of his frenzied writing.
He paced around the tea table as he explained what had kept him up all night. Mavery nodded as she tried to follow along.
“…And so, Enodus’s incantation will reveal the auras of warding magic, but only in the color of the Ether, which is not actually a color, as the Ether is an interaction of wavelengths and energy. That would be akin to saying light itself is a color, when it’s really a spectrum of—”
“Alain, focus!”
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “First, we will need to complete Enodus’s spell, which will serve as the primary incantation. Then…”
From his mouth flowed a deluge of names and theorems. Each was more obscure than the last, but he rattled them off as easily as recalling his own name. When he finally paused to take a breath, Mavery seized the opportunity and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You lost me about halfway through all that, but I gather you have a plan for finishing the spell.”
“In essence, yes. But first things first: are you ready for an Etherean lesson?”
“Do you need to ask?” Remembering the decorum Nezima had demanded yesterday in the lecture hall, she threw Alain a smirk. “Though I hope you’re not expecting me to address you as ‘sir’ the entire time.”
He returned her smile. “Only if you want me to address you as ‘Ms. Culwich’…or, is it ‘Mrs.Culwich’?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You think I look like the marrying type? I should be flattered.”
He laughed, and it was then Mavery realized she was still grasping his shoulder. Though he made no mention of it, she snatched her hand back anyway. Her heart thrummed annoyingly against her ribcage as she took a seat on the sofa. Meanwhile, Alain retrieved something from his desk.
He seemed in much better spirits today. Since parting ways yesterday, she’d replayed their exchange by the fountain countless times. She’d been so thrilled by the idea of Etherean lessons, she’d impulsively thrown her arms around him. And he, just as impulsively, had pushed her away and collapsed against the fountain. She’d worried about him flinging into the water the remains of his breakfast, if not himself. Before regaining his senses, he’d mutteredsomething she’d had to lean in closely to discern.
Not here…not here…not here…
Last night, she’d readThe Covenants of Wizarding Decorumfrom cover to cover. While she’d found nothing that forbade a simple embrace between colleagues, she’d come across a covenant that was along those same lines:
Faculty holding the title of Professor are prohibited from engaging in romantic relationships—including, but not limited to, courtships and marriage—with any Wizard’s Assistant.
Had he feared that the handful of students and professors on the quad would mistake them for something beyond colleagues, beyond even friends? Either way, she wasn’t stung by his rejection; it was clear he hadn’t been himself in that moment. And it was clear that whatever had forced that sudden change ran more deeply than he was willing to admit.
He turned away from his desk, and nothing in his expression indicated that he was also thinking of yesterday afternoon. He had a battered notebook tucked under his arm, and he placed an equally worn book on the tea table. Upon reading its title, Mavery’s worries vanished—along with her enthusiasm.
“The Etherean Alphabet Primer.” She frowned. “I thought you were going to teach me something.”
“I am. This is how I begin every first-year Etherean course.”
“By practicing letters?”
“Runes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you use that tone with all your students?”
“What tone?”
“The same one you used when we first met, when you corrected my pronunciation, dismissed all of my credentials—well, all except for my being a Senser.”
