27

He saw her again not long after, walking toward the university once more with Rhovyn at her side and something in Daevosky's chest tightened further still.

This is ridiculous, he told himself firmly, she may walk with whomever she wishes. There is nothing owed to me in it, nothing decided between us that grants me any right to feel so entirely put out by the sight of her simply talking with a friend and yet, however sound the logic, it did nothing at all to loosen the unreasonable knot already settling in his chest, and he found himself walking on regardless.

"So," Erynae looked at Rhovyn with smile, "how fared your morning in the library, Rhovyn? I couldn't help but notice how very close you sat to certain someone."

"Do not start," Rhovyn muttered, though the flush already climbing up his neck betrayed him thoroughly before he'd finished the sentence.

"I have said nothing at all," she said. "I only observed and observation is not accusation."

"Your observations carry the subtlety of a war-drum."

"And your denial carries the subtlety of a man protesting entirely too much."

"That is uncalled for," he shoved her shoulder in retaliation.

"You are one heck of a character, Rhovyn Aestlae," she shoved back twice as hard, nearly stumbling them both off the path entirely.

"You are one to talk," he shot back as he steadied his feet, "seeing as you've appointed yourself the official gossip-keeper of this entire university without a single soul asking you to."

"Someone has to keep record of your suffering," she said. "It's practically a public service at this point."

"You have the emotional restraint of a startled goat."

"And you have the romantic courage of a man who once ran from a girl who simply waved at him."

"That was one time, and she waved at someone behind me."

"You still ran."

"I was startled!"

"You climbed over a hedge."

"It was a low hedge."

"It was chest-high, Rhovyn," she laughed. "I have never laughed harder in my entire life."

"I cannot believe you still bring that up," he groaned dragging a hand down his face at the memory.

"I will bring it up at your wedding."

"There will be no wedding to bring it up at, if you keep this pace of humiliation going," he rolled his eyes.

"Then perhaps," she grinned, "you should stop giving me such excellent material to work with."

He shoved her shoulder again; she shoved back and both of them burst into laughter as they always did since they were children small enough to still be scolded for exactly this kind of nonsense.

"She is sweet you know," her gaze drifted on Ryska walking a little further on beside Valere. "Truly," her voice came sincerer.

"Does she fare well?" Rhovyn asked.

"You mean," Erynae said softer too, "after her family's loss?"

"A weeping orphan is easy enough to comfort, in its own terrible way," he admitted. "But she is silent, so thoroughly, unnervingly silent, for the sheer weight of everything she has endured. I find myself worried for her, honestly, and I do not know how to help her."

"Perhaps she does not need help, exactly," Erynae said. "Perhaps she only needs someone she can call her own, someone patient enough to actually try."

They reached Aethoria's gates soon after and the group peeled apart at once toward their separate academies, Erynae and Rhovyn turned together toward Solmaere while Bram and Kohl broke off in the opposite direction, headed toward Vaerhold and there, Bram's gaze caught on something in the sky, an eagle taking off from the direction of Cordaelae's office, then another, and another.

"That's the ninth eagle," he said, frowning. "What in the world?"

"That's not nine eagles," he said glancing up. "That's one eagle flying nine times and his name's Vyman."

Bram looked at him in surprise. "One eagle? Nine times, in that short a span?"

"He's a mage eagle," Kohl said. "He can reach anywhere in the world before you blink an eye."

"Wow." Bram tipped his head back, watching the eagle vanish into the sky. "That's a rare breed of bird to command."

"Not as rare as you'd think," Kohl said. "Three belong to the great empires, one apiece. Sixteen more are bound to the independent kingdoms, and the last, Vyman belongs to Aethoria."

"Twenty of them," Bram said slowly, "and bound to a crown that matters, or to Aethoria itself," he glanced up, Vyman was still flying. "They're not used lightly, then, I'd wager."

"Aye," Kohl said. "Mage eagles are reserved for what actually matters, declarations of war, royal deaths, decrees, that sort of thing," he glanced up once more at the sky. "The patronage lists go out today, sent to every kingdom and empire at once, so they can put in their requests for students before the term properly begins."

They started walking again, though Bram's gaze kept drifting back up toward the empty sky where the eagle had vanished. "Did you used to oversee the lists yourself, back at Witherland? When they'd come in?"

"Aye," Kohl said. "My favorite work, that was."

"Witherland," Bram said. "Is it as hot as they say it is?"

"Aye," Kohl said. "Hot enough to make a man forget what cold ever felt like."

"How many volcanoes are there? In the whole of Witherland?"

"Two that still breathe fire," said Kohl. "A dozen more that only sleep."

"And your people simply live there? Beside them?"

"The old songs say Witherland was forged from the bones of a dying god, and the mountains are what's left of him," said Kohl. "Whether that's true or just a story to frighten children, I couldn't say but it's why we don't fear fire the way most do."

The questions kept coming the rest of the walk, about the black sand shores, about creatures that lived only in ash and heat, about whether the sky itself ever cleared of smoke and Kohl answered each one patiently, until the gates of the academy rose ahead and the conversation between them finally came to an end, just as the road did.

Another conversation began where another road ended, in Solmaere's lower hall, where Erynae had just taken her seat.

Daevosky settled into the seat beside her and leaned in just enough to be heard without drawing the attention of the rest of the hall.

"Would you care to practice terrain navigation with me?" said he in low voice. "I've been in want of intelligent company."

She looked at him, and her heart picked up its pace without her permission, the morning light was doing something unfair to the line of his jaw, to his smile, to all of him really.

He tilted his head, biting the inside of his lip, he was weighing something he hadn't decided whether to say.

"We should find a day."

"You know, from my father's summer palace, one can see two rivers, three if you look carefully, though I suspect the third is one of my father's lies." A certain warmth crept into his voice. "My mother planted flowers in courtyard there, and they bloom only in spring, but when they do, they smell like..." he considered this, then shrugged. "I don't know what they smell like, but they smell heavenly," a smile touched his face. "My sister loves it so much it's impossible to drag her anywhere else that season," a fondness appeared on his face.

"You sound like you love her," Erynae said, she saw the fondness on his face for the first time.

"I do," a faint smile tugged at his mouth. "She's an absolute menace, but I love her, dearly," he fell quiet and wondered what havoc she was causing in the palace.

Naervyn had never once, in her entire life, required supervision so much as containment.

He hoped, whoever had drawn duty today, they'd survive the afternoon with their sanity intact.