Page 34 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Twenty-One

It didn’t take Alain long to find a suitable spot.

The street immediately outside Steelforge Towers wasn’t exactly “bustling” in the middle of the afternoon, but there was a steady flow of pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages.

After a wave of traffic lulled, Alain walked into the middle of the street and stopped.

“What are you doing?” Mavery called from the curb.

He waved for her to follow him. She glanced up and down the street to ensure the way was still clear, then came to his side.

“You must be out of your godsdamned—”

He grasped her by the shoulders, spun her until her back was flush against his chest.

“Don’t move,” he said.

“What are you—”

“Keep looking forward. Focus on that lamppost.”

She hadn’t known what to expect from this spell demonstration, but playing in the street like a pair of schoolchildren hadn’t been her first guess. Feeling ridiculous, she laughed but decided to humor him.

“Are you ready?”

“Sure,” she said with a nod.

“All right. Stay perfectly still.”

A chill cut through the air as Alain spoke Etherean. Like the incantation she’d heard him practicing upstairs, this one was a long string of syllables spoken in a steady meter. Etherean had always sounded a bit like poetry to her untrained ear, but never had that comparison been more appropriate.

She relaxed against him, letting the vibration of his voice resonate through her. Though she wanted to close her eyes and lose herself in those strange yet beautiful words, she continued focusing on the lamppost.

When he finished the incantation, the final syllables were barely above a whisper.

Calling upon the Ether for so long had left him breathless, as if he’d been running for miles.

Mavery knew he hadn’t moved, but she somehow could no longer feel the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, his chest against her back. Even her own body seemed lighter.

She tore her gaze from the lamppost long enough to see that they were no longer alone. Traffic passed by them, but no one paid any mind to the two people standing in the middle of the street. She looked back to the post. A carriage, led by a pair of horses, had just rounded the corner.

It was heading straight toward them.

“Er, Alain, we need to move.” Her voice was delayed, distant, like an echo in a deep cave.

“Just wait.” His voice contained that same echo-like quality. He was too calm for someone who was about to be run over.

The carriage moved closer. How were the horses not startled? How could the driver not notice them?

“Trust me,” Alain said when the horses were only three feet away. Then two, then…

Mavery winced, but then the horses completely passed through her, followed by the carriage, as though they’d only been in her imagination.

She’d felt nothing, not even the cobblestones beneath her feet.

She’d heard nothing—no hooves, no wheels, no wind.

Though she could see the world moving around her, it had grown completely silent.

She looked down and gasped. Her body had become translucent, and it glowed with the same pure light of the orb she’d conjured earlier. She began to turn around.

“Don’t move,” Alain said softly. “Too much movement will break the spell.”

“Are we invisible?”

“Think of it as a bit like Aumbremancy, but calling upon the Ether itself instead of the shadows. Instead of obscuring us, it’s turned us incorporeal.” He paused. “But yes, to the casual observer, we’re invisible. A trick of the light, in a sense.”

To Mavery, shadow magic had always been stifling, like trying to breathe in smoke.

But this… She had expected this amount of magic to overwhelm her Senses.

Being shrouded in Ether—or, perhaps veiled was the better word—being one with arcana itself, its hum and chill were more soothing than oppressive.

She had never experienced anything like this when shrouded in shadow, not even when Neldren had been in control.

She banished that name to the deepest corner of her mind. Because this was nothing like the shadows, nothing like him.

Alain continued to breathe slowly, steadily. Though his explanation had been more concise than usual, it had still drained most of his stamina.

“Remember what I said earlier about using another mage as an anchor?” he whispered.

“Of course,” she whispered back. “What do I need to do?”

“Just stay right here.”

There was nothing she would rather do.

She stood motionless enough to feel his presence. Not in the form of physical touch, but in the pull of his arcana against hers. Her own trickled through her veins, gathering along the surfaces where his incorporeal body met her own, creating pools of calm, yet electric, warmth.

Her pulse slowed to match the cadence of his as they shared the same magic, the same breath. Each inhale brought about a small controlled surge of heat. Each exhale left her body a bit lighter than before.

The world continued on around them, occasionally through them, but they were merely observers. The only sound was their shared breath, the only sensation was the gentle tug of arcana as her magic replenished his.

They were fully clothed, doing nothing more than standing together in broad daylight. And yet, Mavery had never felt a closeness quite like this.

Alain emitted a quavering exhale, and the Ethereal veil dissipated.

As their bodies returned to their physical forms, she once again felt the weight of his body pressed to her back.

His chin rested on her shoulder, his right cheek touched her left.

At some point during the spell, he’d wrapped his arms around her waist. Even now, he continued to hold her.

She suspected being an anchor didn’t require this much touching, but she didn’t mind at all.

In fact, she didn’t mind standing like this a little longer. Her eyes fluttered shut—

“Oi! Get outta the feckin’ road!”

—and snapped open again. Barely three feet to her right was a man on a horse-drawn cart. He glared and rudely thumbed his nose as he passed by.

“Alain.” She’d been jolted from her reverie, but his body was dead weight, as if he were in a drunken stupor. Her knees began to buckle.

“Hmph?”

“The spell wore off. We need to move.”

He nodded, but he stumbled only two paces on his own before Mavery took his arm and slung it across her shoulders.

Being his anchor had completely drained her arcana.

Fatigue settled beyond her deepest muscles.

She doubted she could conjure even the simplest protective ward.

But she still had enough physical strength to drag Alain out of the street, then prop him against the exterior of his apartment building.

She’d grown used to seeing him exhausted, but this was something else entirely. Without the brick wall at his back, she suspected he would be a useless puddle on the ground.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, peering at her through half-closed eyes.

“Amazing,” she sighed. “I’ve never experienced anything like that. I see now why they made you a wizard.”

“Of course, only now do you see it.”

“You know what I mean.” Cracking a smile, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. “Now, let’s get you inside.”

Walking side by side, his arm over her shoulders once more, they reentered Steelforge Towers.

Bertie had stepped out of the lobby, but Klaus was perched atop the front desk.

The kutauss watched Mavery ungracefully drag Alain toward the lift.

Its beady scarlet eyes shot her what she could only interpret as a judgmental glare.

If the creature could speak, she assumed it would give her a snide comment as well.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she muttered.

Inside the lift, she had to release Alain to turn the crank, but the small space made it impossible for him to fall over. He slouched against the wall, watched her with a dazed but intent look that made her heart race. It seemed that spell had turned them both delirious.

“Why can’t this building have a lift like the ones at the University?” she asked, if only for a distraction. They’d passed the third floor, and her arm muscles were on fire. What she wouldn’t give for a bit of magic to speed up the process.

“Only-for-wizards.” Alain’s speech had devolved to something halfway between mumbling and yawning. Had his mouth not been six inches from her ear, she would have failed to differentiate one slurred word from the next.

“But you’re a wizard. You could’ve installed one yourself.”

“Fabrications…not-in-my-wheelhouse.”

Mavery brought the lift to a halt. She tried to ignore the dull ache in her arms as she resumed half-carrying Alain down the sixth-floor corridor.

She supposed it was fortunate he was barely taller than her, and he was much lighter than he appeared, or else her knees and lower back would have already given in.

Once inside his apartment, Alain lurched toward the desk, but Mavery tightened her grip on his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction.

“No more work today,” she said. “That’s not where we’re going.”

“And where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

She guided him around the sofa and into the bedroom. Only once they crossed the threshold did she release him. He took a single step before he stopped, glanced at the bed, and turned to her with his eyebrows raised.

“That little demonstration left you ‘absolutely knackered,’ ” she explained. “Exactly as you said, and exactly as I wanted you.”

He leered at her—or, at least, that was what she assumed he was attempting to do. He was so spent, the faintest trace of a half-smile was all he could manage.

“Mavery, my dear, there are much easier ways to take me to bed.”

She laughed, though her face burned as she considered to what extent his delirium was to blame for that specific choice of words.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt,” she said, and the burn became a blaze. “Now, get some sleep.”

“But it’s only—”

“I don’t care. You’re not leaving this room.”

She blocked the doorway with her body and pointed at the bed. With a dramatic sigh, he dropped onto the edge and slumped over to take off his shoes, but even his fingers were too fatigued to untie the laces. Mavery couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll handle those,” she said. “You just worry about lying down.”

She moved to the footboard, where she unlaced one shoe and dropped it to the floor. By the time she’d removed the other shoe, his eyes were closed. If he wasn’t already asleep, he would be soon. Her work complete, she headed for the door.

“Wait,” he said. “Stay for a moment.”

She paused, hand gripping the doorframe. She needed to wish him goodbye before she took this any further. But the earnestness of his request reminded her of another long-forgotten need.

So, against her better judgment, she unlaced her boots and approached the bed. The iron frame creaked as he inched over and turned onto his side. It creaked again as she lay down and faced him.

She knew they’d been physically closer while veiled in Ether, but she hadn’t been able to see his face then.

Now, she could take in more details she’d never noticed before: a smattering of freckles down the length of his nose, traces of silver hair against his temples.

Once again, she spotted that ink smudge on his cheek, persistent as the stains on his fingertips.

She glanced down at his hand inching toward her.

He raised it slowly, brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, tucked it behind her ear.

It was the most gentle of gestures, his movements no longer clumsy, and her eyes closed for a moment.

When she opened them again, she met his gaze: soft, yet focused, despite his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Remember how I told you I’d never tried that spell with another person?”

She nodded, and he tucked back another lock of hair. The lightness of his touch warmed her, clouded her thoughts.

“That was the truth. I’d never done that before, but I’m glad I did. And I’m glad it was with you.” He gave her another weak smile. “Even though you tricked me.”

“Sorry,” she said softly, “but I wanted you to get some rest for once.”

She couldn’t change him. It would be foolish to think so, considering they’d known each other for only a few weeks. She couldn’t force him to stop sacrificing his wellbeing for his research, for the High Council, for her. But maybe she could guide him toward a different path.

“I worry about you,” she said.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushed the hollow of her cheekbone.

His caress was so tender, so sincere, that her throat clenched.

It grew sore as she smothered a surge that contained no arcana—only raw emotions that she dared not name.

He continued, unaware of how each pass of his fingers against her skin roused the storm inside her.

She closed her eyes tightly, and only opened them when he answered her confession with one of his own.

“I worry I don’t deserve you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

But her question went unanswered. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed, his fingers trailed down her cheek as his hand fell, coming to rest between them. At long last, he was asleep.

She wondered how much of this exchange he would remember come morning. One thing was for certain: this would be the most restful sleep he’d had in ages. To reverse some of the damage he’d done to himself over these past weeks, he would need more than a single night. But this would be a start.

Lying on this soft and spacious bed, she became aware of her own exhaustion. The familiar, dull aches in her body reintroduced themselves. Her arcana would continue to lie dormant, not even the faintest ember, until rest replenished it.

She would close her eyes for a brief nap, enough to restore her strength for the walk back to the boarding house. As sleep took hold, her thoughts drifted to the loose floorboard directly beneath her, and the box she’d once been so determined to uncover.

It had been the furthest thing from her mind.