Page 48 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Twenty-Nine

She began with how she and Neldren had first met.

How, as a rookie member of the Brass Dragons, she’d been pursued down an alley by members of a rival guild.

How she’d earned the scar across her nose while fighting them off, until a hint of ash had cut through the metallic scent of her own blood.

And then, how her pursuers had fallen unconscious and her savior had emerged from the shadows.

She spared Alain the more sordid details of that night—namely how, in the midst of losing her virginity, she’d accidentally set fire to the bed—but for the better part of an hour, she relayed to him a truncated version of the years that had followed it.

Neldren had promised her a life where she would no longer find herself in the middle of petty guild squabbles.

But her reluctance to leave the Dragons had been the first of their many disagreements that had left them going their separate ways.

For nearly twenty years, she’d been in a holding pattern, with Neldren flitting in and out of her life for weeks, months, sometimes years at a time.

Mavery had spent so many hours sitting and watching Alain pace about this very room while spouting his ideas and theories. Tonight, she was the one to do the pacing while he gave her his undivided attention.

She recounted the Burnslee job, from its promising setup to its tragic end.

When she told Alain of how Neldren had slashed Fennick’s throat, Alain poured himself a very full glass of wine from what remained of the second bottle.

When she explained what had happened later that same night, Alain looked ready to open a third.

She concluded her story with her run-in with Ellice at the Lettered Gentleman.

“And then she alluded to the boarding house I’ve been staying at. So, you can imagine why I didn’t want to spend another night there.”

“Of course. Were the roles reversed, I would have done the same.” Alain raised the wineglass to his lips, then paused. “You’re certain Neldren has nefarious intent?”

“Yes… No?” She threw her hands up and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe he only wants to talk. Maybe he wants to work together again.”

Alain raised his eyebrows. “Really? After all that happened between you?”

“We’ve reconciled after worse arguments. Granted, none of those involved one of us shooting the other.”

At that moment, Alain took a very generous drink.

“Besides,” Mavery added, “in our profession—his profession, I mean—you work with the most skilled people you know, even if you don’t like them as people. But I’m never going back to that life, especially not for him.”

With that, she reclaimed her seat beside Alain and gestured for him to pass her the wineglass. Speaking for so long had left her parched. The alcohol stung her throat on the way down.

“There’s one part of your story that doesn’t quite add up,” Alain said. “After Neldren…did what he did…how did you wind up in the infirmary?”

“Some kind stranger saw me bleeding out and took pity on me?” She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Alain hesitated before saying delicately, “Do you think it’s possible he took you there?”

She furrowed her brow. “Need I remind you how he shot me, robbed me, and left me for dead?”

“I know, but didn’t Ellice say he intended to clear up some details? Perhaps he had second thoughts.”

She laughed coldly. “Neldren never has second thoughts.”

She took another drink. When she looked at Alain again, there was an unfamiliar darkness behind his eyes that was as surprising as it was unsettling.

“If we ever cross paths,” he said, “gods help me, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Challenge him to a gentleman’s duel? Write him a strongly worded letter?” She patted his hand. “I don’t mean to disparage you, but Neldren isn’t the type to play fairly.”

“Perhaps…but the concept of having blood on one’s hands is not completely foreign to me.”

His words, and the dark tone with which he delivered them, gave Mavery pause. “What do you mean?”

He looked at her with unfocused eyes. He blinked, and the darkness seemed to pass. “Nothing. We ought to get some rest. The bed is all yours. I’ll kip here on the sofa.”

“Nonsense. I’m not putting you out.”

“No one is putting anyone out. I am offering you the bed.”

She shook her head. “As generous as that is, allowing me to stay here in the first place was generous enough.”

“Shall we flip a coin over it?” Through heavy-lidded eyes, he smirked at her, and there was no doubt that he was still incredibly drunk.

“I’m staying right here. Full stop, end of discussion.”

“Have it your way, then.” He hoisted himself off the sofa, wavered a bit as he stood upright. “At least let me fetch you some linens.”

While he stumbled into the storage room, she dug her comb and sleeping shift from her pack, then went to the bathroom to ready herself for bed.

When she returned, the last of the embers had burned out.

Outside, thick clouds shrouded every trace of moonlight while rain continued to pour.

The only light—a white glow that she recognized as Ethereal—peeked through the crack beneath the storage room door.

Though Mavery could have conjured her own orb, she didn’t need it; she knew this apartment like the back of her own hand.

She followed the light through the pitch-dark sitting room.

She opened the door and found Alain sitting on the floor, his back to the wall and his orb of light floating overhead. His eyes were wide, his body completely still, as he stared at something directly across from him.

“Alain, what’s—”

“Forgot to put away,” he mumbled, “after you…”

She followed his gaze and realized at once what had left him so paralyzed.

“Here,” she said softly, “I’ll handle it.”

After all, it was her fault the paintings had been uncovered in the first place. When he voiced no protest, she padded across the room and draped the paint-splattered tarp over the canvases, hiding away the man with the mismatched eyes.

Her efforts made little difference; Alain remained frozen, distant. She approached him slowly, then sank next to him on the floor. She raised her hand, hesitated before resting it on his shoulder. Though he didn’t move, he didn’t recoil from her touch.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want—”

“No,” he said quietly, with a slight shake of his head. “I don’t want to, but maybe I need to.”

The Ethereal light revealed his reddened eyes, his tearstained cheeks.

Though he wasn’t crying now, she wondered if that was how he’d spent his evening prior to her unexpected visit.

Outside, the storm carried on. Rain pelted the roof while wind howled past the turret overhead.

Further in the distance, thunder rumbled.

“He was very important to me,” Alain said at last.

“I figured as much. Who was he?”

“Many things. My muse, my lover, and…” He sighed deeply. “My assistant.”

Mavery nodded. “Conor, I presume.”

“Yes.” He looked at her. “How did you know?”

“Wren. I ran into her outside the library the other day. She told me about the research trip, and she mentioned something about Conor’s eyes. I figured that couldn’t be a coincidence.”

“She never could resist an opportunity for gossip,” Alain muttered, then hung his head. “No, I shouldn’t disparage her. At least she was there when he passed. That’s more than I can say for myself.”

He pulled his knees to his chest, then rested his chin atop them, as though he were trying to make himself small enough to disappear entirely.

“I should start from the beginning,” he said. “That is, if you’re willing to hear it.”

She answered with a nod and a squeeze of his shoulder.

“Conor and I first met two years ago this autumn, not long after Nezima hired him as her assistant. Though we’d only ever exchanged pleasantries in the common room, I was nothing short of infatuated with him.

He was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen, and I attempted to capture his beauty in paint, to little success.

“That was, until I finally struck up the courage to ask him to sit for me. I assumed he would be like every other academic and belittle me for my hobby. To my relief, he was not only flattered, he agreed to be my model without hesitation.

“We met there”—he pointed at the trapdoor to his studio—“a few times per week, and we quickly struck up a friendship. All the while, my infatuation continued to grow, but I never acted upon those feelings.”

“Because of the Covenants?”

He nodded. “And my own cowardice. I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do or say. I’m sure it comes as no surprise, romance has never been my strong suit.”

Mavery eyes widened in mock surprise, and he gave her a half-hearted laugh.

“One day, Conor told me how Nezima’s latest experiment had gone awry.

Her spell was supposed to negate a poison she’d developed.

Instead, the spell backfired, and it nearly killed him.

When he asked her to exempt him from being a test subject going forward, she told him if he couldn’t handle the risks, he had no business seeking to become a wizard.

And then she dismissed him on the spot.”

“I take it that’s why you don’t like her,” Mavery said.

He nodded. “I’d once held Nezima in high regard for being a prolific scholar, for everything she’d done for my mother. But after learning how she holds such little respect for her assistants, I lost all my respect for her.