The Mindmage's Wrath: A Book of Underrealm (The Academy Journals 2) (8 page)

“Please.”

She fetched him a cup and poured one for herself as well. He took a deep drink and then stared at his hands in silence. Adara said nothing, only waited patiently, soft eyes never leaving his face. He wanted badly to tell her of the thoughts that plagued him, but now that he was here, his tongue felt thick and limp in his mouth.

“My family is coming to the Seat,” he said, because that, at least, was easy to say.

“And are you pleased?” she said, her tone very careful.

Ebon shrugged. “Mayhap. I shall see my sister again, and that is a joy. But my reunion with my father shall be ... not quite so happy, I fear.”

She placed a hand on his knee. “If he should trouble you, I will always be here to help you forget.”

“That would be most unwise,” Ebon said quickly. “I would be foolish to visit you while my father resides upon the Seat. No doubt he will have me watched. He might scorn me if he learns I am visiting a house of lovers, and that I could bear. But then he might go further, seeking to visit some sort of harm upon you.”

Adara’s eyes hardened, and her lips drew tight. “He would not dare raise a hand against a lover. The King’s law protects us.”

“Nothing so brazen.” Ebon shook his head. “He is a snake, and could devise any manner of trouble for you.”

Some of the fire left her. “I will take you at your word. Worry not—if you cannot see me while your family is upon the Seat, I will still be here when they leave. And yet ... forgive me for saying so, Ebon, but this is not why you have come to see me today, and you are only wasting time by not speaking of it.”

He dropped his gaze, staring at his hands where they fidgeted in his lap. When he spoke, his voice was far smaller than he had meant it to be. “No, it is not. I ... I cannot stop seeing ... that is, remembering what happened.”

“I understand,” she murmured. “It was no happy memory.”

“That was the first day I saw someone killed—and then in the same day I, too, struck a death blow.”

“You are blameless. Had you not ... done what you did, he would have murdered you instead.”

He winced. “And yet.”

She nodded slowly. “And yet. It may be the truth, but I know that makes it no easier to bear.”

His throat grew dry, and so he drained the cup. She went for the pitcher, but he shook his head. “No more. At least not yet. There is something else ... something I have thought of often since the attack. Had I not seen the two of you slipping away through the city, you would have gone with him.”

Adara’s eyes grew sharper. “Ebon, I have told you—”

“No, forgive me,” he said hastily. “I did not mean that as it sounded. I understand that you are a lover. And you had no knowledge of Cyrus other than his custom, I imagine. What I mean is ... had I not come after you, he would have taken you from the Seat in safety. He only hurt you after I attacked him. Without me, you would not have been harmed.”

“Oh, Ebon,” she said, softening. “Does that truly worry you? I am glad you came when you did. I knew Cyrus for a snake, but not the extent of his treachery. I thought he could remove me from the Seat in safety, and so I went with him, planning to leave his company in the first town we reached. But if I had known he ever laid a hand upon you, I would not have taken a single step by his side.” She cupped his cheek with her hand, and brushed her fingers to push a lock of hair behind his ear.

Lover’s words
, he thought. And yet, when she had learned the truth, she
had
rejected Cyrus. It sent his mind reeling, but he could not waste thought on this now. He had come here to speak, not to wrestle with his feelings for Adara—though already he suspected that they were stronger than might be wise.

“I think of him often,” said Ebon. “I see his face, frozen in that death scream, and I hear him as he plunges into the Great Bay. In my dreams he visits me, and in my waking hours his wail is like a far-off thing, drifting to my ears through the windows, and I cannot escape it, nor speak of my troubles. How could I look Kalem and Theren in the eye, if they knew what I had done? Yet sometimes I wish to tell them, if only so I need not bear the burden alone.”

“You cannot tell them. You must not.”

Ebon raised an eyebrow. “Why so adamant? They are my friends. They would not betray me to the constables.”

Adara pursed her lips and took another sip of her wine. “The King’s law would justify what we did, were the constables or the Mystics to know. It is not the King’s law we must fear. It is your family. No matter the justification, how do you think your father would react if it were known that you killed a scion of the family Drayden?”

Ebon’s hands trembled at the thought. “My friends would
never
tell my family.”

Her eyes grow mournful, and she put a hand on his. “I know Theren well enough. She would understand. I know she had no love for Cyrus. But Kalem ... understand that I have not met him. Yet he is a royal, and thus holds a greater regard for the King’s law. He would not tell your kin. But he might tell the constables, and then word of it would reach your family regardless. I cannot believe a royal would be satisfied until the matter was brought before the law.”

Ebon’s brow furrowed. He wished to deny Adara’s words. And yet, it
did
sound like something Kalem would do. The boy would wish the matter resolved to the satisfaction of himself, the King’s law, and likely some within the Academy. Then word would surely reach his father. The thought made him cringe. Ebon could only imagine what might happen to him then.

Some of his worry must have shown in his eyes, for Adara gripped his hands tighter. “I see your fear. Do not let your heart be troubled. We need fear nothing, for your family will never learn the truth.”

“But then what am I to do? I may keep the secret from my family and the King’s law, and even my friends, but I cannot keep it from myself. And it is my own mind that plagues me.”

“Then take comfort in me.” Adara gently pulled him close, planting a kiss on one cheek, and then the other. “Tell me of your worries and your fears, and let me dispel them.” Her kisses fell to his neck as her hand slid across his chest.

Ebon gulped. “That is an attractive prospect, to be certain.” He drew back and met her eyes. “It will be as you say, at least for now. But you might not feel the same if you could only meet them—Theren and Kalem, I mean. What if we spent time together, all of us, beyond the blue door?”

Adara frowned, and in her eyes there was a worry Ebon could not place. “Are you certain that is wise? If your father is having you watched ...”

“He would not do so yet. Not until he reaches the Seat. And it would gladden my heart to have you all together—you three, who I love most in this world.”

He blushed and looked away, for that seemed a foolish thing to say.
She is a lover,
he reminded himself. He had known that when first he came to see her, and every time since. Why, then, was it so hard not to think of Adara as something more? He did not see her as
his,
certainly ... and yet, whenever he thought of her, it seemed to him that each belonged to the other.

Then, to his surprise, Adara’s hand was on his cheek, and she turned him to face her. Softly, she said, “If it would ease your mind, then gladly will I meet them.” Her hands fell to push him onto the bed, and then she was atop him. “After all, it is my duty to ease your burdens.”

His only reply was to kiss her.

eight

SOME HOURS LATER, EBON SAT drinking in a tavern a few streets over from the Academy. Soon the bells would ring for the midday meal, and he might slip in through the front door unnoticed. It was not uncommon for students to take their meal in the city, and he could merge with the crowd without drawing much attention. Some gave him odd looks as he waited—his Academy student robes were out of place in the tavern before the midday—but after his visit to Adara, he was unable to summon much concern.

“You must learn to wash the smell off, little goldbag.”

Mako’s growling voice nearly made Ebon choke on his wine. The bodyguard had appeared at his elbow without warning. Now he pushed Ebon aside and slid onto the bench beside him. Ebon was glad to see the man, but he could not stop a nagging thought, warning him that Mako had blocked his exit.

“Perhaps I shall bathe instead of eating.”

“You had better. You smell more like your lover than yourself.” Mako’s teeth appeared in a cruel smile—though Ebon did not find it quite so frightening as he once had.

“How did you know to find me here?”

“I did not. I had planned on visiting you in the library this afternoon, and was waiting for my chance to slip inside the citadel. Only by chance did I enter this place to find you waiting for me instead.”

“Waiting for you?” said Ebon, chuckling. “I knew not that you sought me.”

Mako’s smirk widened, and he motioned to a barman for ale. But then his face grew solemn. “You should have guessed it after what happened in the Academy last night. I had to come to see that you are all right.”

Credell’s corpse flashed in his mind, and Ebon shook the thought away. “I am whole. It is kind of you to worry, but I was nowhere near the murder.”

“That is not what I have heard. It seems you were one of the first to arrive after the body was discovered.”

“One of the first, but not
the
first. Credell was already cooling, and beyond any help, when I got there.”

“Do you know aught of what happened? Have you learned anything since?” said Mako. Ebon looked around with discomfort, but the bodyguard set a steady hand on his shoulder and grinned. “No one gets close enough to listen in on me, boy. Not without my knowing it. Speak.”

Still Ebon hesitated a moment before answering. “We were following Lilith just before it happened. She was sharing wine with friends, and then she went out into the gardens. We thought she was alone, but then we heard her speaking to someone.”

“Who?”

“We know not. We tried to find out, but Lilith left, and her friend disappeared. That is when the screaming started, and Credell’s body was found.”

Mako drummed his fingers on the table but never took his gaze from Ebon. His ale arrived, and he took a deep gulp. “It seems there is a strong case to be made for Lilith’s guilt.”

“Mayhap,” said Ebon, nodding slowly. “Yet we lost sight of her for only a moment.”

“Much can be done in a moment. A moment is longer than I need to cut a man’s throat, I promise you.”

Ebon shuddered and looked into his wine cup. “You think she did it, then?”

“I think more and more signs point that way. If Lilith had a hand in the theft from the vaults, or in Credell’s death, it seems the family Yerrin stands much to gain.”

“The artifacts, you mean? That was Theren’s guess.”

“The family Yerrin thwarts us in many things, and seeks ever to expand their influence. If they had even a handful of the more powerful artifacts in the Academy’s bowels, Drayden’s star might wane. Do not shrug—you might not care for your father’s ill fortune, but I would wager you care for Halab’s.”

Ebon flushed. “Of course I wish no harm upon her. And what is more, if it is true that Yerrin played a role in the attack upon the Seat, then I have no wish for their future success. They must be brought to justice.”

Mako smirked. “How very noble of you. I think you will have ample opportunity to catch her and expose the truth.”

“Why?”

“She has stolen from the vaults already, but now she has killed Credell before their doors. Why? Why would she have been there, if not to steal again? She was thwarted this time by Credell, but that does not mean she will give up. Keep following her, Ebon. Catch her in the act, and you shall have your justice. Mayhap you shall even have it before another corpse is on our hands.”

Ebon frowned into his cup. “I hope so.”

“We will speak more of this later. I have not only come to ask you about Credell’s murder. I bring word from the family.”

Ebon sighed. “What is it this time?”

“They will arrive to the Seat upon the morrow, and hope you will join them in the manor.”

A shiver rippled through him, sliding down his back from the base of his skull. He tried to hide it, though Mako’s glinting eyes said he had failed. “I will, of course. You may tell them.”

“I shall. And that brings this conversation to an end—and just in time.”

Before Ebon could ask what the bodyguard meant, the Academy’s bells began to toll, signaling the end of morning classes and the serving of the midday meal. Ebon gaped. “How did you ...?”

Mako pointed to the rear of the tavern. On a shelf behind the bar sat a large hourglass. The tavern’s owner turned it over even as Ebon watched.

“I am no wizard, little Ebon, though the look on your face was a delight. Often simple observation serves better than magic. I wish you well in your quest for the truth—only take care, and do not place yourself in danger you cannot get back out of. It would have been a tremendous waste of my effort to save you from the attack on the Seat, only for you to die now.”

“I will keep that in mind,” said Ebon, giving him a wry smile. “I would hate to see your effort wasted.”

Mako laughed, tossed a gold weight on the table for the drinks, and slipped out the door.

nine

BY THE TIME EBON REACHED the Academy’s wide front doors, students were already pouring out into the streets. He waited until a sizable crowd was pressing through, and then slipped inside between them. Mellie was back on watch, and she fixed him with a suspicious glare as he passed by. But he escaped without incident, and she did not call after him. He rounded the corner of the first hallway and pressed himself against the stone, letting out a long sigh of relief.

“Ebon!”

He very nearly jumped out of his skin at the shout. There was Perrin, her massive frame trundling down the hallway towards him, brows almost joined as she frowned.

“Instructor Perrin,” stammered Ebon. “I—that is, I—”

“Stow it.” She folded her arms and peered down at him through narrowed eyes. “Did you think I would not note your absence? An empty seat is a tad conspicuous, especially so near the front.”