Page 40 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“What were you writing about?” she asked, twirling the pen between her fingers.
“It’s nothing.”
He reached for the pen, and she returned it without a fight. Getting him to stop had been her only goal. Instead of resuming his writing, he pocketed the pen and tipped his notebook away from her as he closed it. Not that there was any need to hide anything. During his note-taking frenzies, his perfect script regressed to a scribble that she doubted even he could decipher.
“For ‘nothing,’ that sure was a lot ofsomething.”
“Just another research idea I had.”
“Oh.”
Mavery took a long drink of her tea, thankful that the cup was large enough to hide the sour look on her face. His research wasthe last thing she wanted to talk about right now.
“I’m sorry for what happened in Kazamin’s office earlier.”
With a sigh, she lowered her cup. Of course,hewanted to talk about it.
“I’m sorry for not being transparent with you,” he continued. “Since you are my research subject—not to mention, the highest authority on Sensing that I know—I should have asked your opinion on the matter before diving in head-first. But, once again, I got ahead of myself and I…”
“Was an ass.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, at least you admit it.Again. But I’m not just your research subject, Alain. I’m your assistant.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I’ll help you with this Sensing spell however I can, but you need to be honest with me. You need to keep me informed abouteverythingyou’re researching.”
She looked him in the eye, wondering if he would understand her true meaning behind those last three words. Would he admit that he’d looked into her past? Would he admit that he knew she was lying, bending the truth, omitting key details, whatever he wanted to call it? Or, would they both continue to keep their secrets?
“I will,” he said, holding her gaze, “in due time.”
Finally, he drank his tea.
Thirteen
When Mavery arrived at his apartment the following morning, Alain was abuzz with something that she suspected had kept him up all night. He was still wearing his faculty robe, his eyes were ringed with dark circles.
She’d barely taken off her coat when he steered her to the sofa. She lowered herself beside a pile of books that hadn’t been there the previous day: alchemical recipes, herbalism field guides, medical texts on arcane maladies. He paced back and forth as he spoke. Watching him was like following a frenzied game of shuttlecock.
“Kazamin has given me so much to think about,” he said. “Peer review, for starters. The book chapters, I can read on my own time, but as for the spellcraft…well, that will be more complicated. I think it’s time we talk about my protocol.”
“Protocol?”
“In case of my accidental death.”
“What?”
He stumbled, then yelped as his shin collided with the tea table. “You told me you worked for wizards before,” he said as he rubbed his leg. “Did they never mention such a thing?”
Were these theatrics a ruse to catch her in a lie? She opted for a bit of truth, but not enough to give herself away.
“That work was always temporary. Thewizards’accidentaldeaths were never a concern.”
He planted himself beside her with so much force, the sofa shifted back a few inches. He grasped her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye. She laughed nervously at his bloodshot, unblinking stare.
“I’m about to tell you something of grave importance,” he said.
“Pun not intended?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Mavery, I’m being serious.”
