Page 46 of A Tower of Half-Truths
The first was a close-up with muddled features, the proportions slightly off-kilter. Next was another close-up, but this one had more detail, as if it had been painted from a reference. The man’s nose was long and regal, his chin pronounced, his features symmetrical. All except for his eyes, which only heightened his beauty.
The next two paintings depicted the man sitting stiffly on a stool, then relaxing in an armchair that was identical to Alain’s. The final painting was incomplete; the charcoal sketch was still visible beneath sheer blocks of color. From the man’s pose—relaxing on a bed—and the abundance of flesh tones, Mavery assumed this was the beginning of a nude portrait.
“I should have known I would find you in here.”
Mavery flinched. She’d let herself get too absorbed in the paintings. And, once again, she’d left her back to the door.
Slowly, she turned around. Alain stood in the doorway, arms crossed. His face was obscured in shadow, but she could only assume his expression was one of anger. She thought back to Neldren confronting her at the inn.
“Alain, I—”
The silhouette of his raised hand compelled her to be silent. Cold prickled the back of her neck as he spoke a brief incantation. She flinched again, thinking he was about to use his arcana on her, but he only conjured a small orb. A flick of his wrist sent it toward her, casting the storage room in white light. Now that she could see Alain’s face, she found no trace of anger. But he was nonetheless disappointed and profoundlytired.
“Whatever excuse you’re about to give, don’t bother,” he said in a voice so calm, she almost wished he’d lashed out instead. “I was planning to show you my studio—and my paintings—eventually, when I was ready.”
“Your paintings are fine. Some of them are quite good, actually. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”
An emotion she couldn’t identify passed over his face. His shoulders slackened.
“Er…thank you,” he said, then shook his head. “But thequalityof the paintings was not my concern. Some of them are a bit personal. I’m certain you can guess which ones I’m referring to, and no, I’m not going to tell you who he is.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Yes, I’m glad we agree on that,” he said sharply. Mavery braced herself for the inevitable. “I think it would be best if you leave. Let’s both get some rest and revisit this tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She blinked at him. “You’re…not firing me?”
“Not now, at least. But if you continue to pry, I may change my mind.”
She nodded, then avoided making eye contact as she ducked out of the room, grabbed her pack and her boots—she didn’t bother putting them back on—and left the apartment. Halfway down the corridor, she stopped and leaned against the wall. At last, she felt like she could breathe again. She took a deep gulp of air, and the tension slowly released from her body.
Alain hadn’t fired her. He’d given her another chance.
But now what? Now that she knew what was in the storage room, her only options were to pursue Kazamin’s artifacts or whatever was beneath Alain’s bed. As for the former, she didn’t know when Alain would make his next trip to campus—or whether he would want her to accompany him. As for the latter, she doubted he would leave her alone in the apartment again. She wasn’t sure which dampened her spirits more: her plan falling apart, or the disappointed look he’d given her.
She laughed incredulously as she realized the answer.
Fifteen
After Mavery scampered out of the apartment and slammed the door behind her, Alain released a heavy sigh. The weight of everything that had happened over these past minutes came crashing down all at once, and his body sagged against the doorframe.
He had known this day would come, though he’d hoped he could have delayed it for a while longer. It had been days since Mavery had last commented on the storage room. But he’d noticed the way her gaze would flick toward the door when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way her brow would furrow as she no doubt pondered what lay beyond it. He couldn’t fault her for sating her curiosity after he’d created such an aura of mystery about this room. If anything, he should have been more upfront, perhaps shown it to her from the first day of their partnership.
After all, she’d complimented his paintings. She hadn’t disparaged him as some of his colleagues once had.
And why would she? She wasn’t like them. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known in the wizarding community.
Alain secured the trapdoor and retrieved the desk lamp without sparing a look at the paintings. The glimpse he’d gotten moments ago had been more than enough. He could go another year—or a lifetime—before he glimpsed them again. Heclosed the door, though he didn’t bother locking it. Now that this secret was out, he no longer saw a need for it.
Back in the bedroom, he lay down and closed his eyes, but sleep would not come. His mind kept returning to what Mavery had revealed to him outside Enid’s shop. All along, his apothecary had been a Brass Dragon. And Mavery had once had “run-ins” with them.
Perhaps she’d been a member of law enforcement, tasked with infiltrating the guild and cracking down on black market operations.
That would have been a viable theory, had he not recalled Enid’s parting words. She’d called Mavery a “kindred spirit.”
He already knew Mavery had once been a wardbreaker. What if her other pursuits had been more nefarious?
With a low groan, Alain opened his eyes. Sleep was a fickle enough mistress on an ordinary day, and today’s events had been anything but ordinary. As he did whenever sleep failed him, he threw himself away from his bed and into work.
