Page 61 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Thirty-Six

Mavery winced as the liquid burned her tongue. She knew she’d let the water get too hot. She placed the mug on the tea table to cool, then settled for pulling a blanket around her shoulders and curling herself into a tight ball on the sofa.

The moment she returned to the apartment, she’d kicked off her boots and discarded her brassière.

Yet, discomfort persisted. She was tempted to throw caution to the wind and pour the entire mug of scalding liquid down her throat.

It couldn’t hurt any worse than her feet, her lower abdomen, her head.

It was tempting to blame all this misery on Neldren. But no, he was only to blame for the headache—and, arguably, her blistered feet. The other aches had started this morning, with the arrival of her monthly courses.

As she readjusted, seeking a more comfortable position, the door opened. Alain entered with a broad smile and more vigor than she’d expected from someone who’d been conducting exams all day. But upon seeing her, his smile faded and his shoulders slouched.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” He closed the door behind him. “One, you look completely out of sorts. Two, you’re doing that hair-tucking thing you do whenever there’s something vexing you.”

Mavery glanced at her right hand, which hovered beside her ear.

That old habit had become so second-nature, she’d long stopped noticing whenever she repeated it.

Evidently, Alain had caught on. Her stomach fluttered at the realization, but even that couldn’t distract her from the dull ache in that general area.

She glanced at the mug. Tendrils of steam continued to rise from it, so her special tea was likely still too hot to drink. She sighed.

“I take it your afternoon was worse than mine,” Alain said. “I hope my mother wasn’t too hard on you.”

“No, your mother was fine. Well, ‘fine’ by her standards.” She looked at the dagger lying beside her mug. “I had a run-in with Neldren.”

“What!?” Alain cried, then rushed to her side. “How did that happen? Are you all right? Did he—”

She placed her index finger to his lips, quieting him.

He grabbed her hand, held it to his chest as his eyes filled with concern.

She explained how her encounter in the market had led to Neldren’s ambush outside the boutique.

The longer she spoke, the more Alain’s face paled, the more tightly he clutched her hand.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone,” he said.

She shook her head. “I was fine…surprisingly. You were right, by the way. He was the one who took me to the healers that night. He never wanted me dead; he was frustrated about all the times I’d left him over the years, and so—”

“And so he shot you for it? And I thought academics were a vindictive bunch.”

“I know what he did was extreme, but he apologized for it. He even returned this to me.” She pointed to her dagger. Alain’s eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, though its blade was hidden within the elegant sheath.

“You believe he was sincere?”

She nodded. “He seemed remorseful enough, and we both made amends that were long overdue. After all that, I don’t think he’ll come looking for me again. Though, as I once guessed, he offered that I join his crew again.”

“You can’t be serious!” Alain sputtered. “Please tell me you turned him down.”

“Of course I did! Why would I give up all of this”—her free hand gestured at the room before coming to rest on Alain’s cheek—“to go scrounging for coppers with the last person in the world I want to be around?”

He smiled as he leaned into her hand, then pressed his lips to her palm. The kiss was so light, yet so intimate, a swell of emotion rushed through her. Mavery swallowed hard, tamping it down long enough to speak.

“Now that Neldren’s no longer an issue, I suppose there’s no reason for me to continue hiding away here.”

“I can think of one reason,” Alain said, his breath warming her skin.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

He turned his head, met her gaze. “I want you to stay.”

“I…” The swell of emotion returned, stealing her voice. She cleared her throat. “I would like that—quite a lot, actually—but are you sure? What about the Covenants?”

“Right, the Covenants.” He took both of her hands in his.

He fell silent for a moment, gazing downward at their joined hands as his thumbs caressed her knuckles.

“I suggested we talk about this after the presentation. I know that’s only five days from now, but I don’t want to wait. I’ve made my choice.”

She held her breath as she waited for him to continue. He looked up, and his eyes were filled with warmth, sincerity.

“I’ve decided I’m going to resign from the University.”

Mavery gaped at him. “Alain, you can’t—”

“I can, actually.” He smiled. “Trust me, this is not a decision I’m making lightly.

And it’s hardly a new idea. There were several times during my sabbatical when I considered giving Kazamin my resignation.

Assisting Declan with exams today reminded me of what I’ve always known: I was never cut out for this line of work, I simply chose the first one that was presented to me. ”

“But if you’re not a professor, what will you do?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug, “but without the expectations that teaching brings, I will finally have the freedom to explore what I truly enjoy: the pursuit of knowledge itself. The thrill of asking questions, of delving into research, of seeing an experiment come to fruition—even if it’s unsuccessful, or the results are not what I had hoped for.

“Because that’s the beauty of it: there’s always something new to learn, even from failures.

And we will never know everything there is to know about spellcasting, about the Ether, about the universe.

There is some comfort in knowing there will always be a thrilling new discovery somewhere out there. ”

Mavery found herself enthralled by his words—as she found herself whenever he spoke so passionately.

“Whatever you discover,” she said, “I want to be by your side for all of it.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” He squeezed her hands. “And, since that pesky covenant only applies to professors, you can be by my side as my assistant—and as the woman I’m courting. Er, assuming that’s still something you want.”

She smirked. “As if you even need to ask.”

He laughed. “Well, one should never assume. Then that settles it. After we present the Sensing spell, I’m going to meet with Kazamin and hand in my resignation. In the meantime…” He gave her a coy smile. “I see no reason to delay the courtship part.”

He drew her in, and their lips met in a gentle caress.

His fingertips combed through her hair, guided her head back to kiss her more deeply, though he lacked the fervor he’d shown back in the forest. But Mavery matched his slower pace, allowed herself to savor the simple pleasure of their connection.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed her so tenderly, without any need to hurry.

Because neither of them was going anywhere.

A firm tug of his robe sent her to her back, his weight on top of her. The sudden change of position forced them to break the kiss. She opened her eyes at the same time he did, and they exchanged a laugh.

He lightly kissed her forehead, then placed a more lingering one on the scar across her nose.

It didn’t matter that this mark was a permanent reminder of the night she’d met Neldren; he gave that part of her as much reverence as he’d given her lips.

She sighed as he moved downward, placing a kiss on one corner of her mouth, then the other, before continuing to her jaw.

He pushed aside the blanket, her collar.

“Oh…” She shivered as his lips brushed the crook of her neck. Then his fingers fumbled with the top buttons of her blouse, and her eyes widened. “Oh! Er, wait a moment.”

Alain pulled back. “Is something wrong?”

“Your timing,” she groaned, then sat upright. “If only you’d come to this decision yesterday, before I started my courses.” She sighed. “I’m afraid anything beyond what we just did is out of the question for the next few days.”

“That’s a relief. Er, not your courses, I mean.” He blushed. “For a minute there, I was worried I’d been too presumptuous.” He took her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t mind waiting a little longer. In the meantime, how are you feeling? Is there anything I can get you?”

Smiling, she kissed his cheek. If only she could show this man her appreciation in every way she knew how…

“You’re sweet to offer, but there’s no need. Not when I have this.” She leaned over and retrieved her mug. The liquid no longer appeared scalding, but the stoneware was warm against her palms. Alain sniffed the drink—and gagged.

“Gods, what is that!?” he coughed.

“An old remedy for aches and pains: a cup of fallowroot tea, the juice of a lemon wedge, a pinch of cinnamon, and a shot of whiskey.”

“Yes, the whiskey was apparent.” He waved a hand in front of his face as his eyes watered. “Does it at least help?”

“Immensely. The taste isn’t half-bad, either, though I won’t be disappointed when I no longer have to drink this every month.

Until then… Cheers to you, Lavestra.” She raised the mug toward the ceiling before taking a large gulp.

She winced as the liquid burned all the way down—she’d poured the whiskey with a heavier hand than she’d intended—but the few seconds of discomfort were worth the immediate relief it brought to her aching muscles.

“Lavestra?” Alain asked. “I’m no theologian, but isn’t Illara the Goddess of Fertility?”

Mavery laughed flatly. “I promise you, this is entirely within the Goddess of Afflictions’s domain.” She began to take another sip, then paused. “But speaking of fertility, I ought to prepare some persilweed tea for when all this passes.”