Page 60 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Thirty-Five

Abronze-skinned girl entered the classroom—and immediately stumbled over her own two feet.

She regained her composure long enough to cross the room, then stopped in front of the table where Alain and Declan were seated.

With her lanky figure and wide eyes, she looked closer to twelve than seventeen—how did each first-year manage to look younger than the last?

—and her entire body trembled as she waited.

Alain had half a mind to fetch a bin before she vomited over the hardwood floor.

He couldn’t blame her for being nervous; when he was a student, practical exams had always left him in a similar state.

Though being on the other side of the table wasn’t much of an improvement.

Declan cleared his throat, then issued the prompt that he’d recited so many times, Alain was bound to hear it in his sleep tonight:

“Miss Zireen, to your left is a chest that I’ve warded with a standard arcane lock and Berimur’s Electrostatic Augmentation. Using only Gardemancy spells, retrieve the item inside the chest. You have two minutes, starting now.”

Declan turned over an hourglass. For the first few seconds, Miss Zireen remained frozen on the spot.

Then, as though she finally remembered why she was here, she rounded on the chest and grabbed the padlock.

She emitted a yelp of pain; evidently, she’d missed the “Electrostatic” part of Declan’s instructions.

Alain shook his head as he scribbled a note on Miss Zireen’s scoring card.

She attempted a spell, and Alain grimaced as she stumbled through the incantation.

As her spells proved ineffective and the grains of sand continued to fall, she grew more frustrated.

Meanwhile, Alain continued to record demerits.

With only a few grains remaining in the hourglass, she recited a final incantation, then screamed.

Alain looked up. The chest had erupted in green flames.

It would have been a startling sight, had she not been the eighth student today to set fire to the chest. Six students had turned it invisible, three had resorted to kicking it, two had transmutated it into stone, and one—a student who was seemingly immune to Elemental magic—had managed to pick it up and chuck it across the room.

Miss Zireen was the first to conjure green fire, though she wouldn’t receive points for originality.

She hopped from foot to foot as she wrung her hands.

With a grunt, Declan pushed his chair back, rounded the table, and hovered his hand a few feet above the flames.

He chanted an incantation that extinguished the fire without so much as a puff of smoke.

Fortunately, no damage had been done. Unfortunately, Nadya Zireen had failed her exam quite spectacularly.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Ward,” she said in a trembling voice. “I don’t know what happened!”

“Not to worry, Miss Zireen,” Declan said. “Accidents happen to even the best mages. You were on the right track with that counterspell, but at the end you used ‘cha’ instead of ‘kha.’ A very common mistake.”

He guided her to the door, wished her well with a friendly pat on the shoulder, then returned to the table. He slumped into his chair with another grunt. All the while, Alain had been writing his evaluation, which now spilled onto the back of the scoring card.

“Why did you tell her she was ‘on the right track’?” he asked as he continued to write.

“Not only was that an abysmal performance, she was supposed to use only Gardemancy spells. That last incantation she attempted was from the Elemental School. I would have deducted five points for that, had she any points left to deduct.”

Declan sighed. “You know, lad, a little positivity now and then doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s certainly not how I was taught.”

“Remind me, who taught your first-year Gardemancy class?”

“Cadavan,” Alain said. Though Cadavan exclusively taught advanced courses these days, his reputation continued to strike fear into the hearts of the University’s youngest students. Even most of the faculty tried to avoid crossing his path whenever possible.

Declan shuddered. “That explains it. You ought to try my approach with your own students. Maybe then they’ll take a shine to you.”

Alain bristled, laying down his pen. “Judging by the number of assistantship applications currently sitting in my mailbox, I’d say I’m liked well enough.”

“Oh, lad, I can assure you they don’t like you for your personality!”

Declan clapped Alain on the back as he roared with laughter. Alain attempted to ignore him as he stuffed his scoring sheets into his satchel.

“How many do we have left?” Declan asked once his laughter subsided.

“She was the last one.”

“About time! I love teaching, but by Selesta’s sagging left tit, do I loathe exams.”

Alain agreed with the sentiment, though in less blasphemous terms.

“After we tidy up the room,” Declan said, “why don’t we wander over to the Lettered Gentleman for a couple of pints?”

Alain stifled a groan. He’d already spent the past eight hours in Declan’s company. Going to the pub would add another hour—or more. At this point, the only place Alain wanted to be was in his own sitting room, and the only company he desired was Mavery’s. The thought alone made his chest ache.

“I really ought to be going,” he said. “I need to work on—”

“Right, right, your presentation. We’ll make it one pint, then. It’s the least I can do to thank you for your help today. Besides, it’s been ages since we last went out together.”

Knowing Declan, accepting the invitation would be less of a hassle than attempting to decline it.

Alain sighed. “All right. But only one pint.”

While this wasn’t the exact table Alain had shared with Conor on that dreadful night, it was close enough.

Simply being here was enough to bring about memories that Alain had no desire to ponder for too long.

He took a careful sip of his ale. The moment the liquid hit his tongue, bile churned within his stomach.

Declan had ordered him a dark, bready ale—not the same one Alain had drunk the last time he patronized this pub, but it was close enough.

He lowered his tankard and pushed it aside.

Declan chugged from his own tankard, then wiped the foam from his mustache. “Oh, don’t look so dour. Compared to the fourth-years’ research papers I have to tackle tomorrow, today was painless.”

“If you’re asking for my help with those—”

“No, no, you helped plenty today. So much, in fact, I’d say I now owe you a favor.”

Alain held back a scoff. That was a line Declan had uttered countless times. Holding him to it was another matter entirely, as he tended to conveniently forget promises made over pints of ale.

Declan rubbed his hands over his face. “Gods, what on Perrun possessed me to give those fourth-years a twenty-page minimum? It’s times like this I wish I had an assistant again.

” He threw back the rest of his ale, then slammed his empty tankard on the tabletop.

“Speaking of assistants, what’s the story with you and yours? ”

“Er, what do you mean?” Alain asked as the back of his neck warmed.

“You know very well what I mean.”

“I swear, I haven’t the foggiest.” Alain raised his tankard and feigned a sip, attempting to avoid Declan’s eye.

“Come off it, lad. Your lies are shakier than a virgin in a brothel.” Declan leaned across the table, lowered his voice a notch. “Unless you’ve got an unusual taste in fashion, those were her knickers in your bathroom. You’ve made the beast with two backs, haven’t you?”

Alain flinched, and ale sloshed up his nose. “By the gods, Declan!” he sputtered. His heart raced as he glanced around the room, though none of the other faculty seemed to be paying them any mind. Even so, Alain also lowered his voice. “I can assure you, nothing of that sort happened between us.”

“But something of some sort happened. And I doubt your eagerness to run home has anything to do with your presentation.”

“What gives you that idea?”

Declan laughed. “Lad, I’m over twenty years your senior and I’ve had three wives. I understand romance better than you do.”

Alain wanted to argue how having three ex-wives provided evidence to the contrary, but he held his tongue.

Perhaps Mavery was right: he should go easier on Declan.

After all, the man had cared enough to attempt to visit Alain during his sabbatical.

Even Kazamin had only ever managed to send the occasional letter that was well-intentioned but nonetheless dripping with disappointment.

Declan’s actions, as far as Alain could tell, had been purely out of concern for someone he considered a good friend.

“All right,” Alain said. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “If you must know, we kissed, but nothing happened beyond that.”

“Who initiated?”

“I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

“Trust me, lad, it’s of the utmost relevance.”

Alain sighed deeply. “I did.”

“And she reciprocated?”

“Yes.” His heart thrummed as he recalled the softness of Mavery’s lips, the warmth of her breath, the eagerness of her touch. “Most enthusiastically.”

“Tesseraunt, you sly dog!” Declan said with a grin. Though his tankard was empty, he raised it and clinked it against Alain’s.

“We violated the Covenants!” Alain hissed as a wave of heat crept up his neck. “This is no cause for celebrations!”

Declan waved a hand. “Bah! Even those cadavers on the High Council have broken a covenant or ten. If you don’t believe me, I’ve an island off the coast of Zakarza I’ll sell you.”

“But—”

“Look, lad, you’ll find no judgment from me. Leona and I were a pair of fools who acted on a whim, without sparing a thought for the consequences. You, on the contrary, do nothing on a whim, and you could stand to spend less time thinking about consequences. If you want my advice—”

Alain didn’t, but he doubted he would have much say in the matter.

“—forget about the Covenants. It’s clear as day that woman makes you happy; her name alone is enough to turn you into a grinning fool.”

Had he been that obvious? The heat, now concentrated in Alain’s face, refused to subside.

“See?” Declan chuckled. “There you go again! So, follow your heart and pursue her. After everything you went through this past year, you deserve a little happiness.”

“Declan, I…”

He couldn’t find the words to tell Declan that pursuing his assistant had been the catalyst for that miserable year. That, while he knew Declan was right, he couldn’t risk repeating that same mistake.

But would it be the same mistake? Mavery wasn’t Conor.

To mention the two of them in the same breath was to disparage her, because she was a better person than him in every conceivable way.

Someone like Mavery didn’t deserve to be hidden away like some shameful secret.

A single minute with her made Alain happier than all his years of teaching combined.

At that moment, Alain knew what he needed to do.

Declan sighed. “I should’ve been a better friend when you needed me most.”

“Nonsense. You were going through a divorce.”

Declan snorted. “My third, and for a marriage I’d finished mourning a long time ago.”

“Well, regardless, you did plenty. You covered my exams when I couldn’t leave my apartment. You attempted to visit me when I was at my lowest point. Though I wasn’t receptive to it at the time, I appreciate it. Truly.”

Declan reached across the table and gripped Alain’s shoulder. His eyes were misty, and for a second, Alain wondered if he would actually shed a tear. But then Declan’s gaze fixated on Alain’s tankard.

“Are you going to finish that?”

“It’s all yours,” Alain said, pushing it toward Declan. He would need a clear head when he returned home this evening.