“Oh, they’re inconsolable,” Olbric says brightly before he saunters off down the hall. He tosses a wave over his shoulder. “Hope Arlon lets you cum soon.”
“Gods, but same,” I groan before I push off the wall and head back towards Arlon’s office. Of course Olbric made me go all theway up to his room to find him. I descend the stairs of the evocation tower, though I have to stop partway across the atrium to collect myself.
I shove the door to Arlon’s office open. I’m a minute away from taking a hammer to the fucking chastity cage. I’m about to tell Arlon as much before I see the look on his face. The letter I brought from the Chamberlain is open in his hand.
Dread douses every spark of arousal like cold water. “Bad news?”
Arlon gives a huff of amusement before he tosses the letter across his desk towards me. “Didn’t I tell them this would happen?”
I hurry to read the letter, and my stomach sinks like a stone. “Lucien’s escaped.”
“Give a wizard nothing but time and solitude in a prison cell, and he’ll find a way to make magic,” Arlon mutters bitterly. “If they’d allowed me to post a wizard on guard, we could have kept the abjuration up to prevent this. No doubt Lucien was just waiting for the barrier to fail.”
I swear as I scan the letter again. The Crown’s current understanding of magic is... frustrating. We tried to explain that abjurations can’t just be set and forgotten. Magic, especially abjuration barriers, have to be maintained. But the trust between the Crown and the Crux is so badly fractured that they only allowed us access to the dungeon weekly to reinforce the abjuration surrounding Lucien’s cell. Apparently, that was not enough.
“So, in summary, they created this problem, and now they want us fix it,” Arlon says through a sigh.
I fold the letter up and return it to Arlon. “Could we try a sending to Lucien? See if we can glean where he’s gone?”
“We haven’t even succeeded increatingthe damn things yet,” Arlon says, his frustration evident. “Trying to glean a locationthrough a sending is damn near impossible unless they announce it. Besides that, we already know where he’s heading. It feels redundant to waste a spell on this.”
“But...” I say, hearing the unsaid in his tone.
“But,” Arlon sighs, “the Crown insists we get whatever information we can on his whereabouts.”
I can’t blame him for having a sour mood about this. Every time we try to recreate an exact spell, there’s a failure rate, and I think we’ve all been humbled by how difficult recreating these sendings has been.
“So that leaves divination,” I say, though I’m already thinking through the Crux’s roster. “Alix had a relationship with Lucien, but he won’t agree to divination. Margeurite likely interacted with him even less than I did. There are others who knew him - Iona and Marvin did for all the wrong reasons, but I doubt they will agree to divination.”
“And Dom isn’t doing divination either right now. Especially not when the focus is on one of Diran’s cadre,” Arlon says through a sigh.
“I could attempt it?” I say. “We have his spells. We couldn’t ask for a better divining trinket to get clearer Sight.”
Arlon raises an eyebrow, and in spite of everything, a shadow of a grin graces his lips. “Trying to get out of your conjuration already, Apprentice?”
Honestly, it hadn’t even crossed my mind. Nothing like a crisis to create a good distraction. But Arlon’s smile has become such a rare and fleeting sight that I say, “Of course I am. Rude of you to notice, honestly.”
And if his grin is good, the sound of his laugh is even better. Yet his expression sobers all too quickly as he leans his head back against his chair. “I knew Lucien well. I can go into the silver.”
But the look on his face is clear; he doesn’t want to do this. Arlon is a caster, but it runs deeper than just a matter of preference. In themonths I’ve apprenticed him, I’ve seen it in every facet of him. He carries a natural sort of dominance, a driving need for control both in and outside of a casting room. Which is why divination isnota favorite school of his.
He sighs, his gaze landing on me. “I trust you’ll take good care of me.”
Warmth settles in my chest, though it’s chased by an uncomfortable realization. This isexactlythe reason a Grandmaster has to have their full mastery. They are the ones who step into a spell when others aren’t able or willing to try.
“Of course I will, sir.”
Arlon gets to his feet and gives my shoulder a squeeze before he heads towards the false wall at the end of his office. It opens under his touch, but it’s only then I realize that Dom is gone from the gap under Arlon’s desk.
When Arlon emerges from the stairwell, worrying one of Lucien’s spell strands through his fingers, I ask, “Where’s your desk pet?”
“Hmm? Oh, I dismissed him for the day.”
I don’t like that answer. Dom has turned into such a recluse that aside from mealtimes, this is the one place I’m guaranteed to see him. Old worries rear their head all over again, but then Arlon drapes Lucien’s spells around his neck. His expression is drawn, his jaw clenched tight.
“We’ll use your room on the first floor,” Arlon says.
I force my worries about Dom aside. My priority has to be Arlon right now. Because there’s no worse feeling than going into the silver knowing that you are going to hate what you find.
