Page 72 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“Further proof that I picked the right person for the job.”
He smiled weakly, and she averted her eyes as shame washed over her.
“So, er, what happened?” she asked.
“I awoke feeling so well-rested, I thought I’d get an early start on peer review. That way, we could focus on more important matters: the Sensing spell and your Etherean lessons.” He looked at the orb of Ether floating overhead. “Speaking of, I see you remembered the incantation. Excellent work!”
Any other time, she would have welcomed his praise. Instead, she frowned at him.
“You told me it was too dangerous to peer review spells by yourself.”
“But I wasn’t by myself. You were here…technically speaking.”
“Technically speaking, I was asleep!”
“And when did you wake up?”
“When I heard you collapse.”
“See? Everything worked out. No harm done.”
“ ‘No harm done’?” She blinked at him. “Alain, you fuckingdied!”
He winced. “I’ll admit, that was a poor choice of words.”
She fought an overwhelming urge to throw herself at him again—and shake him. Her frustration must have been written plainly on her face. Alain placed his hand on her shoulder.
“It was a stupid mistake,” he said. “I was reviewing a simple voice-based augmentation developed by an, at most, entry-level wizard. Somehow, I managed to botch the incantation, which caused me to suffocate.” He sighed and shook his head. “I used aguttural‘r’ when I should haverolledthe ‘r.’ Must have been my mother’s influence popping up at the most inconvenient of times.”
He chuckled, but even that seemed to be too strenuous. With a pained expression, he gingerly touched his chest. His shirt remained unbuttoned, and a bruise had begun to darken the spot where his breastbone had collided with the tea table. Mavery caught another glimpse of his long scar and thought of a coroner slicing open a cadaver.
“You’re being awfully casual about this,” she said. He looked down, biting his lip, and that was enough to confirm her suspicions. “How many times has this happened?”
When he didn’t answer, she took him by the jaw, gently turned his face until he looked at her again.
“How many times have you been resurrected?” she asked, enunciating each word.
“Er…only once before.”
Not even the most gullible idiot would fall for that. She narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip.
“Twice?”
“Alain, tell me the truth.”
He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Twelve. Counting tonight, I’ve now been resurrected twelve times.”
For a brief moment, all she could do was gawk at him. Then, she scowled as she released his jaw and gave his arm a swift punch.
“Ouch!”
“Twelve?Twelve!?” Her frown deepened at the sheepish look he gave her. “You ass! Keeping your protocol a secret was one thing, but you could have at least told me you’d been through this before!”
“In all fairness, Ididsay I’d been through it before.”
“I’d assumed you meant as the one doing the resurrecting, not the one being resurrected—and definitely noteleven fucking timesbefore tonight!”
As she formed a fist again, arcana ignited her blood. But seeing him wince tempered her rage, and she settled on continuing to glower at him. He must have noticed her gaze linger on his scar again; he began buttoning up his shirt.
