Page 66 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“What for?”
“Er…when is your birthday?”
“The twenty-eighth of Nivose.”
“Then consider it a belated birthday present.”
He glanced at their joined hands, then promptly pulled his away. With a tinge of red coloring his face, he rose from the sofa. It seemed he finally remembered what they’d discussed yesterday about decorum.
As he busied himself with his research notes, she examined the coin. It was a century-old potin, minted long before paper currency became the standard. An antique like this would fetch maybe a hundred potins from the right pawnbroker—a paltry “score” for over a month of work, not counting her wages.
Though the coin wasn’t worth much, it was another sign that her persistence had paid off. Alain trusted her enough to give her something of his.
She should have been ecstatic.
She stared at the back of her hand, where his own had been moments earlier. The warmth and gentleness of his touch were soon drowned out by the guilt that came with planning schemes, sneaking around, telling half-truths, breaking into private rooms…
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” Alain asked, looking up from his notes.
If she told him the truth, he would want nothing to do with her. That coin would be all she had to remember him by—assuming he didn’t demand she give it back.
“Er…my Senses are acting up again,” she said. “I don’t think I can work without more of that potion.”
“Of course. I made a large enough batch to last the week. I’ll go fetch you another cup.”
While Alain puttered around in the kitchen, Mavery chided herself for her cowardice. As much as she wanted to put an end to her lying and scheming, she wasn’t yet ready to let go of all of this…to let go of her employer, her friend. When he returned with a cup of the off-putting liquid, she choked it down as a small penance.
They then both resumed their work. Mavery returned to her usual cataloging and sorting. Alain paced around the room while taking notes and muttering incoherently. She pieced together that he was making adjustments to Enodus’s unfinished incantation, much like a poet trying to find the perfect turn of phrase. After a few minutes of this, he stopped in front of her.
“I’m not distracting you, I hope.”
“Is this what you do when I’m not around?” she asked. “Talk to yourself while walking holes through your floorboards?”
He laughed. “Only when I’m pondering new ideas. But I’ll try to keep my monologuing moreinternalgoing forward.”
As promised, he resumed his pacing, but the only noise came from his footsteps. Though Mavery wouldn’t typically use the word “charming” to describe this sort of behavior, she couldn’t think of anything more suitable. Alainwascharming…in his uniquely odd way.
Once afternoon tea had come and gone, he took his work to his desk, where he began reciting the incantation aloud. Whereas Mavery had struggled to string together only fourteen syllables, he managed to recite what must have been pages’ worth of runes before stuttering, shaking his head, and marking a correction in his notes. She hadn’t realized she’d been watching him until he gave her a sidelong glance and beckoned her over.
She leaned against his desk as she watched him work. These past few hours of minimal talking, keeping to their own tasks, had reminded her of the earliest days of her assistantship—something she was loath to return to. There was something comforting about being by his side again.
Though the potion had long worn off and the soundproofing ward was still in place, listening to him speak Etherean gave her chills nonetheless. There was no denying he was on the brink of collapse. Performing a single spell outside of the wards’ protection would likely drain him entirely. Only then would he have no choice but to get the rest he so desperately needed.
Suddenly, a new plan formed. As Alain paused to make anothercorrection, Mavery put it into motion.
“If you want to become a wizard, you need to invent your own spell, yes?”
“That’s the usual way,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. He put down his pen and turned to her. “But you could invent a potion, retrieve a lost relic, translate an ancient text. Any contribution to arcane scholarship will do, so long as the High Council deems it significant enough.”
“What did you do?”
“I took the traditional route and invented a spell.”
She smiled. “Could you demonstrate it for me?”
He mussed his hair with a grimace. “Even on an ordinary day, that spell leaves me absolutely knackered.” At that, Mavery stifled a laugh. “But I suppose it would be a fitting way to cap off your first Etherean lesson. It won’t be easy, especially as I’ve never performed that spell with another person.”
