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His back was still bruised where she’d knocked him against the rocks, and every time he moved, the dull ache reminded him of what an unforgivable thing he’d done. There was no way she was going to forgive him. He’d burned every olive branch she’d handed him, and he knew better than to imagine he’d get another chance. He’d hardly dared to believe she’d even come after him that night, after the way he’d treated her. What was it about him that made a woman like that give him the time of day? Surely someone like her could see right through all the fake crap he put on to impress people. Well, it didn’t matter now. He’d gotten what he wanted. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. He was lucky she hadn’t retaliated with more force after what he’d done. A few bruises on his back were the least of his problems.
Professor Rowton could tell he was in a dark mood. He saw a fair bit of the professor, who checked in occasionally to see if he needed any help with his studies. Archer felt a little bad for making so many snap judgments about the professor early in the year. He was a genuinely nice man, and once Archer swallowed his pride and accepted his help, he was surprised by how much easier it was to get through the work.
“You’re a Leo,” the professor said with a shrug when Archer expressed as much. “I checked your chart. You weren’t cut out for solo learning. Why do you think I make you do so much group work?”
“You really use that stuff, huh?”
“I wouldn’t teach it if I hadn’t seen its accuracy demonstrated over and over.” Professor Rowton tilted his head, looking curious. “I noticed you avoided enrolling in any magic-specific classes.”
Archer winced. He’d since learned that Rowton was the school’s leading expert on fire magic… which meant that opting out of magic-specific classes was something of a personal slight against the guy. Most dragons who studied here wanted at least an introductory overview of the unique gifts of their astrological sign. “It’s nothing personal. I just—I don’t know, I don’t really go in for any of that stuff.” He tried to turn his attention back to the page he was reading, but he could still feel the professor’s eyes on him.
“You don’t… go in for it? Do you ‘go in’ for gravity? Weather patterns?”
“I’m not interested in magic,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended. “I just—I don’t think it’s important, alright?”
Rowton nodded, sitting back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face. “That’s understandable. I’d be mindful if I were you, though. Just because your magic isn’t important to you, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Speaking of which,” he added, rising briskly from his seat. “I have to go make sure we’re not all about to be engulfed by molten rock.”
Archer watched him go, then turned his attention reluctantly back to the page he was reading. He wasn’t here for self-reflection, he wasn’t here for mysticism or the study of magic that had no real bearing on his life. He was here for as long as he needed to be to get his father to stop bothering him, and that was that. Still… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to add professor Rowton’s elemental magic class to his schedule next semester.
If nothing else, the extra work might help keep his mind off all the terrible things he’d done.
Chapter 17 - Morgan
The trip from the insula of Sanguine back home felt a lot shorter than the journey there, for some reason. That was partly to do with the fact that she slept for most of the boat trip, of course. The exams had gone well, but Morgan knew she’d burned the candle at both ends for a while there, and it would take a bit of rest before she was refreshed and restored. All her work and stress had been worth it, though. She was so excited to get home and let everyone know how well she’d done—and Callan, too, who had also passed his exams with flying colors. Not bad for a couple of dragons who hadn’t even known about the world beyond their home until a few years ago.
Cato and Acantha were waiting for them in Isthmus, and Morgan couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her sister grin so widely. She pulled her into one of her famous bone-crushing hugs, only releasing her when Cato cut in to crush her in turn. With her ribs thoroughly bruised, the four of them set off for the final leg of the journey… the eerie, quiet walk through the Fog. It flew by in what felt like no time at all, though, so absorbed were Morgan and Acantha in catching up on every detail of the last few months.
“You’d think they hadn’t been exchanging novel-length letters six times a day,” Cato remarked drily to Callan, who chuckled in response. Morgan didn’t care. It felt so good to have her sister by her side again. She loved her dearly, but she wasn’t exactly a world-class letter writer—she was much more eloquent in person. Before they knew it, the Fog was thinning, and Morgan felt her eyes fill with fond tears as she saw the familiar shape of her mountain home looming on the horizon before her. She was surprised by how chilly it was in The Valley, how strange the cool, dry air felt against her skin. She’d hardly noticed herself growing accustomed to the tropical heat of Sanguine, but now she’d left she could really feel the difference.
The first three days back home were an absolute whirlwind. Everyone in the entire cavern seemed to want to hear every detail of her time away, and it wasn’t long before Acantha started cutting in on her behalf, pushing away curious dragons with the practiced ease of a lifelong soldier. Morgan was just grateful that she had nothing but good news to share. Every time she mentioned her good grades, she pushed down the pang of worry she felt about Archer. She wasn’t thinking about him. She simply refused to.
Eventually, the excitement began to settle down. It helped, of course, that she and Callan had prepared a report to give before the Queen. The Throne Room was much more full than usual on the morning they presented it, and Morgan hoped that the curious onlookers would spread the word to the rest of the community so she could stop telling the same stories over and over. Morgan told the assembly what she’d learned about magic and the stars, while Callan presented a more socio-politically focused report, providing a surprising amount of insight into the various communities spread across the insulas of the world. He was a born diplomat, she thought, feeling proud of her friend. She hoped he’d be continuing with his study—it was clearly something he had a gift for.
“Thank you both for your reports, and for your diligence over these last few months,” Queen Lana said, once the gathered crowd had asked their questions. “Now, I’ll be issuing a royal order, and mind that you both follow it to the letter. Understood?”
Morgan and Callan exchanged confused glances as they nodded. Queen Lana’s eyes danced with amusement.
“I command both of you to get some rest. As for the rest of you—no hassling these two with any more questions. They’ve done enough storytelling to sate your curiosity for the time being.”
Morgan resisted the urge to burst out laughing, grateful to the Queen for her eminently practical instructions. And Morgan committed to following the order with all the diligence she could muster. She slept as late as she felt like each day, rising only when her body deemed itself good and ready. She resisted the temptation to go over the textbooks she’d brought home with her, too. Instead, when she got the itch to read, she headed down to the Palace library to browse the familiar tomes there and hang out with Arric and Hartwell. Neither of the Archivists could be trusted to follow the Queen’s decree to keep their curiosity to themselves. But Morgan didn’t mind. She loved the Brisant library, and the scholars were probably the only people she knew who were as eager to hear about it as she was to talk about it. They were also delighted with the gifts she’d brought back with her—a couple of hardcover books, ornate and beautiful. One told the history of the insula of Sanguine, complete with detailed geographical and geological data about the volcano. The other was a history of the establishment and construction of Brisant University itself. Both contained extensive illustrations and maps… and both Archivists received them with such reverence that she thought one of them might actually pass out.
And when she wasn’t in the library or dozing in her far-too-comfortable bed, she was out in the mellow sunshine. She’d never been much of an outdoors person, but she found herself spending long afternoons down by the lakeshore, sunning herself with her wings spread on the rocky beach. Most of those afternoons, she was joined by Cato and Acantha. Her sister had taken time off work, she learned from Cato. She really must have missed her.
Morgan even managed to avoid thinking about Archer. Not entirely, of course—his face had an unfortunate habit of swimming up in her mind when she was thinking about university. But here at home, she found it easier to let her thoughts flit past him without getting caught up. What was the point of ruminating on him, of dwelling on all the unpleasant things he’d said and done? And she was grateful that Acantha seemed to be making a point of not mentioning his name, too. She was aware of all the details, of course. Morgan hadn’t held anything back in her letters to her sister. That being said, she hadn’t told her what had happened on that last night. There hadn’t been time to write home, and once she’d gotten here, she’d been reluctant to break the positive mood with such a grim story.
The break seemed to come to an end with supernatural speed, as good times so often did. Her last day home dawned bright and unusually warm, and they made the group decision to spend the whole day down by the lake, with an open invitation offered to anyone who wanted to join them. That ended up being a larger group than she’d expected, and it wasn’t long before the lakeside was beginning to resemble a party. That made her grimace with an unwelcome memory, and she caught Acantha looking at her sideways, clearly debating whether or not to ask.
She didn’t want to spoil her last day here, but at the same time, she badly wanted to vent about everything that had happened. It felt strange for Acantha not to know the whole story, anyway. So she took a deep breath and filled her in on all the events of the party. To her credit, Acantha sat quietly through the whole story, though when Morgan reached the part where the group of guys had turned up, she could see her sister’s jaw clenching tightly enough to hurt. She didn’t need to look at her aura to see the fury she was concealing, but she glanced anyway. To her surprise, there was more worry there than she’d expected… for that matter, there was more of everything. She’d always seen Acantha’s aura most clearly, but she’d never seen quite this much detail.
“What are you looking at?” Her sister’s voice startled her, and she shook herself out of her reflections with a start.
“Sorry. Just—“ She hesitated, feeling a little silly. She’d always felt like Acantha was someone she could talk to about anything, but it still felt strange to talk about her magical abilities like this. “Looking at your aura.”
“Ah.” Acantha grinned an apology. “So you can see my nine-point plan to tear this man into tiny pieces, then.”
“No. Well, yes,” she added, chuckling a little. “But—I can see so much more of it than usual. Are you… is something going on?”
Acantha shrugged. “Nothing special. I mean, I’m glad to have you home. Why are you surprised you can see it better, though? Haven’t you been practicing all term?”
