AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nonetheless, I force a smile. “Thank you, Professor Darkholme. I will do my best to ensure that I do not fail.”
Twenty
It’slatewhenmyfathercomeshome.Thoughforhim,teno’clockonaFridaynightisratherearly.Somenightshedoesn’treturnatall.Hewouldneveradmitit,butI’msurehesometimesfallsasleepathisdesk.HisofficeisonthehighestflooroftheAetherTower.
I’m currently sitting in the drawing room, studyingConcerning Conflagration and Combustion. Taking notes is difficult thanks to Zephyr, who has mistaken my desk for his bed. I tried to move him, but he started spewing balls of aether at me. In the end, I decided to share the desk and work around him. I don’t know why he likes it so much. Surely a hard, wooden surface isn’t comfortable?
The only blessing is that he doesn’t snore too loudly.
My father peers around the door. “You’re home? And... studying?”
I don’t tell him that he’s the third person who has commented on my studying habits today. “Why wouldn’t I be home? It’s ten o’clock.”
“It was your last day at the Arcanium, wasn’t it? I thought you and Eliya would be celebrating until the early hours of the morning.”
I wonder if Eliya and the others left their celebrations at Flour Power or if they continued inside taverns. Another pang of guilt sweeps over me, but I brush it aside. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t feeling well. Except I have a sickness of the heart, rather than the body.
“I wasn’t in the mood for it.”
My father is the last person I want to discuss Arluin with, especially after he ordered Archmage Calton to execute him. Since then, neither of us have mentioned it. I suppose we both know how the other will react, so we seem to have silently agreed it’s something best left forgotten.
He gestures to the book lying on my desk. “What are you studying?”
“Concerning Conflagration and Combustion,”I say, holding up the burgundy cover. “I want to improve my fire wings spell.”
“I passed Archmage Gidston earlier in the Arcanium. She spoke highly of your abilities during Combat Class today.”
I shrug as I place the book back onto the desk.
“What’s the matter?”
I stare at Zephyr’s shimmering scales rather than my father’s face. “Nothing.”
I wonder whether he will press the matter, but he doesn’t.
“Aside from your fire wings spell, are you ready for your trials next week?”he asks after a short pause.
“What choice do I have but to be ready?” If I fail my trials, I will tarnish my family’s legacy and shame my ancestors like Alvord Ashbourne, whose book lies on my desk.
“Indeed.” Maybe once he would have spoken that word as a sigh, frustrated by my lack of discipline. But now I can’t tell what emotion laces his voice.
I feel his gaze on me for a few more minutes. The drawing room would be silent, if not for my flicking of pages and Zephyr’s slow, gentle breaths.
“Well,” my father finally says, “I’ll let you get to it.”
“I left you some food in the kitchen,” I say. That meal was made with my magic, of course. My mother would be disappointed to know the two of us do nothing by hand these days. My father is too busy working, and I’m too busy studying.
“Excellent, thank you.” With that, he steps out the room and leaves me to continue examiningConcerning Conflagration and Combustion.
I end up falling asleep with my head on the book. I jolt awake and frantically inspect the pages to see whether I’ve crumpled them. If there’s even a single wrinkle, Erma will bill me an extortionate amount to have a new copy bound.
Last year, I spilled a few drops of mulberry juice onto the book I was studying for our midterm examinations. In my defense, the specks were tiny, though they were a vivid shade of purplish-red. She charged me half of my monthly stipend.
Once I’m certain the pages are free from creases, I shut the tome quietly enough not to wake Zephyr and lean back in my chair. My attention drifts over to the brass clock hanging over the fireplace. Its black serpentine hands point to twenty past three.
I almost fall off my chair with surprise. I didn’t realize I slept for so long.
I rise and gently push the chair under the desk. Despite my carefulness, Zephyr’s eyes flutter open. He yawns, revealing rows of tiny ivory fangs. I leave the drawing room and head upstairs. Zephyr follows me.
