Page 7 of Sonnets and Serpents (Casters and Crowns #2)

Dressed in a proper suit—which, in Pravish fashion, was not a tailcoat but rather a heavy brocade jacket that extended almost to his knees—Silas made his way, at last, to the dean’s office.

Afshin resided on the fourth floor of the Yamakaz, directly beneath the center of the grandest dome.

Like the building itself, his office had no corners or hard edges, only curved ceiling and walls, like open arms ready to embrace.

The dean stood at a far shelf, murmuring as he rearranged books, as if looking for one that had been misplaced.

Iyal Afshin was a dark-haired man quickly graying, with more wrinkles than it seemed reasonable for his middle-aged face to hold, although anyone who knew him could attest they came from an excess of smiles rather than years.

Silas rapped the back of his knuckles against the open door, and the dean looked up, melting into his signature smile of prominent teeth.

“Our standout Loegrian pupil!” he said. He spoke Loegrian, since he preferred to speak to students in their native tongues. “Silas Bennett, back on Pravish shores.”

Afshin welcomed Silas in, striding over to meet him on the rug. He gave a forceful handshake and a shallow bow, which Silas returned.

“Iyal,” Silas greeted. It was the same respectful title given to every male professor, and the dean insisted he was no more important than anyone else at the university.

“I must say, Silas, I was hoping you’d go home and make some changes to that little country of yours. Maybe bring it out of the dark ages.”

Silas snorted. “You’d need a herd of elephants for that, and I’m just one snake.”

Afshin waved Silas over to a sitting corner with wide, flat cushions. Although he used his desk for working, it wasn’t where he preferred to hold council. Silas crossed his legs beneath him as he sat.

“Speaking of Loegria.” Afshin’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I’ve just today gained significant news.”

Though Silas’s insides knotted with anticipation, he kept his tone light. “Knowing history, it can’t be anything good.”

“It seems you have a new monarch on the throne. Queen Aria de Loegria, first of her name.”

Silas blinked. That could be good news. He hoped.

“I’m told the transition was something of an upset,” Afshin went on. “How do you think your court will take it?”

Silas’s father would be livid, that was for certain. Lord Bennett practically worshipped the king.

He shifted on his cushion. “Honestly, Iyal, Loegria hasn’t had a real change in centuries.

When I spoke to Aria twelve days ago, she claimed she would reverse the laws against magic users, and I imagine it will cause an uproar if she follows through.

More likely, she’ll buckle under pressure from tradition and the upper class. ”

His throat tightened as he thought of his best friend, who had fallen in love with the crown princess during all the recent turmoil. Gill Reeves was a smart man, but he was a tenderhearted one, and a magic user in a hostile country.

You could go back and help, said a voice inside. Aria had promised him a pardon, and if she was queen, she could make good on that.

If she’d been sincere to begin with. The only reason Silas had asked her to protect his sister was because of the way he’d seen her defend Gill before the court, but he still wasn’t convinced Aria’s motives were selfless.

After all, Gill was the strongest Fluid Caster in Loegria, and for a princess facing conflict with Casters, there was an obvious reason for her to keep him on her side.

The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that his friend was facing betrayal down the road. He felt ill.

The shadows beside Afshin’s bookshelf took on the shape of Silas’s father, looming with a raised sword. He closed his eyes briefly, pushing down the memory.

Afshin clapped his hands together. “This is a wonderful change. I can feel it. Perhaps your country will advance after all. I’d love to welcome more Loegrian students to our campus.”

Silas nodded but pushed eagerly to a new topic. “I hope you’re willing to do more than that. I’m requesting a position as a professor of warlockry.”

The dean frowned, causing Silas to tense. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider the odds of winning in this gamble.

“I can’t offer that,” said Afshin.

“I was top of every class,” Silas protested. “In two years, I did double the studies of any other student, and that was after my delayed start, coming from a country in the dark ages.”

Afshin raised his hands, offering peace. “No one’s criticizing your work as a student. Surely, no one could. Your research on both Casters and Affiliates has been exemplary. I know Iyal Kerem has been staggered by your contributions to his projects. You’re a credit to the field of warlockry.”

Silas heard the caveat coming, and his anxiety manifested in a faint scale pattern across his arms.

“But you’re still years behind any other professor on my staff.”

Slowly, Silas breathed in, then out, calming himself. Afshin waited; he was accustomed to dealing with Affiliates and the accompanying volatile emotions.

Once Silas could speak evenly, he said, “Age shouldn’t hobble education. I know I’m only nineteen, but—”

“This is not about your age of living; this is about your age in the field. In two years, you’ve done twice as much as any student, that’s true, but my professors have ten, fifteen, more years of research and discourse beneath them.

They have revolutionized this and other countries.

Iyl Yvette raised the Great Eastern Wall.

Iyal Nikolai restarted a stopped heart. And Iyal Kerem . . .”

He didn’t need to finish that comparison. What could Silas offer the university that Kerem didn’t already supply?

Silas clenched his jaw, holding back the fangs threatening to manifest.

“Continue your studies,” Afshin said gently.

“Another two years, a sponsorship from another professor to be included in their research, and you will stand shoulder to shoulder with the finest Izili has to offer. Don’t mistake me—I want you on my staff.

I’m thrilled at the prospect. But we have rigid standards here, and it serves no one to lower them. ”

Silas would love another two years of study, another ten years of study, but as he’d told Baris, studying cost money.

If the university wouldn’t hire him, Silas would have to take a job wherever he could.

Harvesting papayas. Working the docks. He would lose everything he’d ever worked for, and he’d spend his days missing a home that had never loved him. It couldn’t end like that.

For a moment, he remembered Princess Eliza and her words: That isn’t our ending.

Perhaps he was aptal after all. Perhaps they were both looking truth in the face and denying it. He scowled at the idea.

“What about my final thesis?” Silas tried. “No one had drawn the correlation between activation age for Casters and subsequent Casting strength.”

“Dvorik and others had established that Casting potential increased in younger subjects.”

“Yes, but I made the connection to activation age.”

“You expounded on groundwork already laid, but you did not break new ground.”

“So if I break new ground, I’ll have my position?”

Afshin turned away too late to hide a smile, and Silas felt a flash of triumph.

With effort, he remained silent, allowing the dean to consider.

And because it couldn’t hurt, he also sent a silent prayer to the heavenly realms. After leaving behind his sister, his best friend, his native country and kin, all he had left was the university. He couldn’t lose this too.

Slowly, Afshin said, “What is your proposition?”

Silas cast his eyes desperately around the office, trying to spark any idea for groundbreaking research in a single moment.

Gill came to mind. His best friend was the strongest Caster alive, activated at birth, and Silas had been itching to write about that ever since he’d realized it.

But he’d kept Gill out of his thesis for a reason.

As an orphan responsible for two younger brothers, living in the worst country for magic users, the last thing Gill needed was a group of curious researchers breaking down his door to put his Fluid Casting through a battery of tests.

No, Silas couldn’t betray Gill. Not for the sake of his own future. Not even to advance the field of warlockry as a whole.

There was something else . . .

An unproven hypothesis about nature’s balance and how, if magic users existed, then they must be countered by anti-magic users. Magic stealers.

“Proof of magic stealing,” Silas said.

Afshin shook his head. “That has been exhausted in study, by Casters and Affiliates both. Magic cannot be stolen by any—”

“Mine almost was.”

The dean fell silent, leaning forward with intrigue.

It had been what finally sent Silas home. One month ago, he’d almost lost his magic, upending everything he knew. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Kerem. The moment had felt so surreal, it was hard to believe it had even happened.

But if it could open a future for him, he would face it.

“Someone tried to steal mine,” Silas restated with force.

Afshin smiled, wide with raised eyebrows, a man who couldn’t resist betting on a horse race if only to see what a certain majestic creature was capable of.

“Put me up in a university dorm for three months,” Silas said. “Threadbare budget for living.”

But the dean shook his head again. “I haven’t the funds for that. The warlockry department is over budget as is, and I’ve had to refuse most of the latest research proposals.”

No, no, no. He couldn’t be this close and lose it.

“Kerem will pay me,” Silas said desperately. “I’m practically his research assistant anyway, and he wants me here.”

“If he’s willing, then it seems we’ve found an agreement.”

Silas stuck his hand out, quick as a viper strike, and Afshin laughed as he shook it. His grip was firm, and with his other hand, he pointed at Silas’s heart.

“I expect great things,” he said.

Without hesitation, Silas answered, “I’ll be back with proof on your desk. So tell the school of warlockry to prepare for Iyal Silas.”

There was a snake in the library.

Eliza stood, petrified, looking at a wide planter nestled between bookshelves, home to a stretching tree. Wrapped around its branches sat a brown python, nearly invisible despite its enormous size, ten feet long at least.

She’d climbed the hill to the mysterious white-and-blue buildings only to discover it was a school, filled with students rushing around with books and papers and even musical instruments. They all seemed to be her age or not much older. A university?

They had a university back home, on the western side of Loegria. Eliza had never visited it, but she knew they taught students from Patriamere as well as Loegria. Sometimes her mother gave music lectures there in either language.

Excitement bubbled to life within her. Even if Henry wasn’t here, she could at least find a translator. If any place was likely to have people who spoke other languages, it was a university.

She charged into the largest building and gasped in awe at its massive domed ceilings and sprawling library. Surely they’d lost students in the stacks and had to send out entire search parties. She climbed a ladder and stretched her neck but still couldn’t count the number of shelves.

Focus, she told herself.

But when she tried to approach the front desk, she found the python.

No one else was bothered by its presence. One girl walked by and gave a polite nod to both Eliza and the snake.

They’re a religious symbol here, Silas’s voice taunted her.

Eliza would never understand this country. But they did have a lovely library, minus allowing a snake to inhabit it.

Slowly, Eliza inched to the side until she reached a bookshelf and could disappear around it. With the python out of sight, she pressed her hands to her chest and breathed. At least until she heard a familiar voice.

“Morning, Tulip. You’ll never believe the conversation I’ve just had with the dean.”

It was so cheerful, she almost didn’t recognize it at first. But when she peeked around the bookshelf, she saw a familiar tall figure, dressed in a brocade jacket with stunning embroidery.

Silas could have been headed for a social event in Pravusat’s royal court instead of holding court with a snake.

He smiled at the python stretching its head out of the branches, and he bopped it on the nose with one finger. Fearless as a madman. “Oh, did you? We’ve both had exciting mornings, I see. That’ll teach the rats to stay out of the history stacks.”

Eliza shivered. He was lucky they weren’t in Loegria. Talking to an animal, even jokingly, would have cast suspicion on him for being a shapeshifter.

At least now she understood why he fit here. He was a student at their university. Aria must have chosen him for that reason without understanding that his personality was as rotten as month-old fish.

After leaving her to die, he was skipping around a library, cheery and remorseless.

She clenched her teeth, closing her eyes and fighting the impulse to throw her dagger at his back. Or at least a book at his head.

Ever since her curse, she had to be so very careful about controlling herself. Most days, she felt fine, but sometimes a storm brewed inside, growling with thunder that made it hard to hear logic. Navigating that storm led her to impulsive actions.

Lashing out at others. Running away from home.

She had to stay busy, had to stay focused. That was how she maintained control.

I have to find Henry.

Hopefully the python would swallow Silas, and she would never have to see him again.

Staying carefully out of sight, she crept to the library’s front desk and asked for someone who spoke Loegrian.

The librarian’s eyes widened, and she gestured for Eliza to wait.

A few minutes later, she returned with a handsome young man in tow.

His shoulder-length brown hair reminded Eliza of Henry, and her heart cracked at the edges.

Haltingly, but in blessed Loegrian, the man asked, “You new student?”

“No, I—I’m looking for someone. There was a shipwreck, and I—” Eliza forced herself to take a deep breath and keep things simple. Speaking clearly, she said, “I need a translator.”

The man’s smile froze, and he didn’t speak right away, as if trying to pick her words apart in his mind. She knew the feeling.

At last, he said, “We have . . . translation people. None talk Loegrian.” Leaning forward slightly, he gave an apologetic shrug. “Not a popular country.”

Well, she wasn’t fond of Pravusat either. Far too many snakes.

Desperately, she asked if he would translate for her, and he shook his head. His lack of fluency was clear enough, so she wasn’t surprised, only disappointed.

This had been her best lead, and it was a dead end.