Ashes of Aether: Legends of Imyria (Book 1), page 9
“Dire as in suspension? Or expulsion?” I know I risk his wrath for asking, but I can’t help it. I need to know what’s at stake. In case I accidentally sleep in too late on a Sunday morning. Or something else of the sort.
My father doesn’t deign to answer the question. Without another word, he storms up the stairs.
Now I am left at Erma’s mercy.
Hopefully she won’t make my life too difficult. While she has scolded me plenty of times, she scolds many adepts every day. Surely she doesn’t bear a personal grudge against me?
Any hope I had is dashed when she points to an enormous stack of books. It towers so precariously I think it may topple over if I breathe too suddenly. And if that happens, Erma will make me pick them all up. I approach with caution.
“These books have been left out by good-for-nothing adepts like yourself,” she says, giving her current tome a particularly forceful stamp. “Each one needs returning to its rightful place.”
I do my best not to grimace. Putting them all away will mean countless hours of running around the Grand Library. But if I show any sign of reluctance, she will assign me far worse tasks. Like reorganizing the topmost shelves.
Since resistance will worsen my sentence, I give Erma the most enthusiastic nod I can muster. “Yes, ma’am!” With that, I scoop up the books lying at the top of the towering pile.
“Get to it then,” Erma growls.
I don’t hesitate and set to work before she can bark out another command.
I glance down at the first book in my arms. ‘The Origins of Medeicus, the Arcane Language of Magic, by Alward Brayton’ is scrawled onto its cover in cursive script.
I scurry over to the right wing of the library which contains books concerning the languages of Imyria. Besides Medeicus, the Grand Library is home to books on the different Elvish dialects of Lumaria, Alanor, and Fenyr Forest; the human languages of Selynis, Valka, and Tirith—though the latter’s is also known as Common; and the Orcish tongues of both Jektar and Dromgar. Even the holy language of the Selynian Priestesses is featured in our books.
The only language which can’t be found inside the Grand Library is Abyssal, the dark tongue of demons.
But long ago, our shelves would have been filled with grimoires of forbidden magic. Over a thousand years ago, when Nolderan was first established, the original magi hadn’t shied away from practicing dark magic.
That was until the Lich Lord arose, a former Archmage of Knowledge. His quest to eradicate all life from Imyria almost succeeded.
Since then, Nolderan has strictly forbidden all forms of dark magic.
Or at least, that’s what my History tutors have spent the last two years lecturing me about.
I scan across the nearest bookshelves, looking for where this one on Medeicus is supposed to go, but I only find books on Orcish and Elvish here.
My search takes me deeper into the Grand Library’s right wing, and I pass a book with beautiful illustrations painted onto its cover. It depicts the shadowy trees and ever twinkling stars of Lumaria, the land of eternal night where the moon elves dwell.
I set aside the three heavy books I’m carrying, and my fingertips trace over the artwork. Even my mother would be jealous of the artist who painted this cover. With how lovely these illustrations are, I can only imagine how breath-taking Lumaria is itself.
Unfortunately, I have yet to visit. The Magi of Nolderan have little to do with the elven continent of Belentra, despite the moon elves having taught the first magi how to wield the aether in the air and in their blood. Our broken relationship with Lumaria is because the Lich Lord was once an Archmage of Nolderan and they blame us for his crusade against the living. My History teachers mentioned that the relationship between Nolderan and Lumaria became strained after that.
While my father receives ambassadors from all over the world, including even a few orcish Stormcallers who come from the lands beyond the three human kingdoms, I have only heard of him meeting one Lumarian ambassador.
It was five years ago, shortly after my father banished Heston for practicing necromancy. I suppose that’s what Lumaria wanted to discuss, especially since they distrust us after what happened a thousand years ago.
I sneaked inside the Arcanium—a bold move considering this was long before I became an adept—and waited outside my father’s meeting room all day for a glimpse of the Lumarian ambassador. She stood so tall that she dwarfed even my father. Her dusky purple skin shimmered like crystals, and her long silver hair billowed like streams of moonlight.
And her eyes were nothing like ours. Her eyes shone much brighter, her iridescent irises glowing with blues and purples. Her appearance captivated me so greatly that I forgot I was supposed to be hiding. My father scolded me for sneaking into the Arcanium, but I didn’t regret it. Glimpsing a moon elf for the first time was more than worth suffering his fury.
Footsteps sound from behind, snapping me from my daydream. I glance back, but I can’t tell whose they are. Nonetheless, I retrieve my stack of books from the nearby shelf. Just in case it’s Erma, already checking on my progress.
I peer at the books in my arms. The cursive letters of ‘The Origins of Medeicus’ stare back at me.
I swallow. I’ve not yet returned a single book, and there are dozens to work through. If I don’t hurry, Erma will soon be informing my father of my idleness. And then I will be granted a punishment far worse than assisting Erma or being suspended for a month.
Whatever that might be.
The books on the history of Medeicus, the language of magic which magi speak to invoke their spells, lie at the far end of this aisle.
I tilt back my head and examine the highest shelf. The books are arranged alphabetically, and authors with surnames beginning with ‘A’ and ‘B’ can be found at the very top. There’s a gap between two tomes which looks the same width as this book’s spine. Since I can see no other such gaps, that must be where this book lives.
I lift ‘The Origins of Medeicus’ in one hand and balance the rest of the books in my other. “Atollo.”
Violet light envelops the book and raises it to the very top shelf. The magic fades as the book slots into place.
I watch it for a moment, hoping that my spell was accurate enough and that the book won’t lose balance and come tumbling down.
It doesn’t.
I turn on my heel and continue on, traveling to the next section of the library.
Though I return the next two books faster than the first, I soon realize a more efficient method is required. Or else it will take until midnight to tidy away all the other books.
I return to the Grand Library’s main chamber and set to work with categorizing the stack of books. The steady thud of Erma’s stamp sounds behind me. I half expect her to complain that I’m wasting time, but she doesn’t.
When I finish organizing the tomes, I gather as many geographical books as I can carry and hurry over to those shelves.
There are now far more adepts inside the library. That must mean the fourth-years, whose lessons run until six o’clock on Thursdays, have finished for the day.
My lips pull into a smile as I weave in and out of the aisles, distributing the books as quickly as I can. Arluin will be here shortly, and at least gazing at him will make this punishment more bearable. Provided that Erma doesn’t catch me staring at him.
But it isn’t Arluin I first find.
Just as I turn a corner, I almost collide with Kaely. I nearly drop the books I’m carrying, half from surprise and half from fury.
I can’t have been here for more than an hour, and yet Kaely has managed to locate me.
Didn’t she go home with her father? Wasn’t he meant to lecture her about not making light of necromancy?
I suppose I should expect nothing less from Archmage Branvir Calton.
Kaely’s lips distort into an ugly sneer. “So, it’s true. They’ve not even suspended you.”
“Kaely,” I hiss, my fingers clawing into the leather covers of the books. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m also an adept of the Arcanium. Is it a problem if I visit the library after lessons?”
My jaw tenses. She’s not planning to continue taunting me, is she? Hasn’t she already caused enough disruption today?
“You may go wherever you please,” I grind out. “But stay out of my way.”
“Or what? You’ll strike me with a fireball again?”
While I can’t use my magic against Kaely, I can whack her over the head with the heavy tomes I’m holding. That wouldn’t break any of the city’s laws.
But it would mean Erma reporting my unruly behavior to my father. On the very first day of my sentence.
I can’t afford to lose my temper for a second time today.
“Just leave me alone, Kaely,” I snap, pushing past her. But like earlier this afternoon, she refuses to let me go so easily.
“You should have been expelled from the Arcanium for your crimes!” Kaely calls after me, daring to raise her voice to a level that will enrage Erma.
I halt and turn back to Kaely. A vicious scowl distorts her freckles.
“You were bold to strike me with your magic in broad daylight,” Kaely jeers, “and there were dozens who witnessed it.”
“Just as they witnessed the insults you hurled at me.”
Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “The reason you were spared is because you’re the Grandmage’s daughter. It seems I’m the only one who can see this injustice.”
“Even now you continue to spew hatred.” I cling to the books I carry, not trusting my hands to stray from their leather covers. I can’t allow my anger to burst free again. “Kaely, what have I done to deserve the way you treat me?”
“You’re the Grandmage’s daughter,” she blurts, her fists tightening. “You’re lazy and useless, and you’re not a good sorceress. Yet to everyone else, especially our tutors, you’re someone special. But it’s only because of your father. He’s the Grandmage, not you. Why do you deserve such reverence? You haven’t earned the right.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “So, this is the reason you hate me? Do you think it was my choice for my father to be the Grandmage of Nolderan? Do you think I can help how others treat me? If it bothers you this much, then the next time anyone praises me, I’ll tell them they should instead praise Kaely Calton because she can’t control her irrational jealousy. Actually, no. I doubt even that would suffice. How about I ask my father to disown me and take you as his daughter instead, since you can’t bear the fact that I’m the daughter of the Grandmage of Nolderan and you’re not?”
A deep shade of crimson paints Kaely’s face. Fury blazes in her magenta eyes. If she came here to goad me into losing my temper again, then she has failed greatly. If only my mind and my tongue were sharper earlier this afternoon.
“Reyna Ashbourne,” she spits, “I have never known anyone to think more highly of themselves. Your arrogance disgusts me.”
“My arrogance disgusts you? Have you not looked in a mirror lately? I think you’ll instead find that your arrogance outshines everyone in the entire city.”
“You—”
“That’s enough,” a male voice calls.
Too focused on Kaely, I didn’t hear any footsteps approaching. When I turn, I see Arluin behind us. Frost shrouds his expression. The muscle at his jaw twitches as he meets Kaely’s eyes, refusing to give her even an inch of ground as their stares lock together.
“Arluin Harstall,” Kaely chides, her stare unrelenting as she speaks, “what a surprise. It seems you have your dog on a tight leash, Reyna.”
“Leave us,” Arluin hisses through his teeth. While my fury burns like wildfire, his is stone cold.
“You don’t scare me, necromancer.”
Arluin steps closer to her, his expression still frosty. I doubt even Kaely will succeed in melting it. I’ve never seen him lose his temper.
But there’s a darkness in his eyes which makes me tremble. All I can think about is what he confessed to me yesterday. About the magic his father taught him, the crimes he himself has committed, and the secrets I swore to take to my grave.
Kaely’s shoulders jerk back as he approaches. She would never admit it, but there’s fear in her gaze. Whatever I can see in Arluin’s expression, she can see it too.
“What are you going to do?” Her tone doesn’t reveal her unease. It’s as brash as always. “Kill me and raise me from the dead, just like your father reanimated corpses from graveyards?”
“Yes,” Arluin breathes, mere inches from her. His voice is so quiet it’s barely a whisper. “That is exactly what I will do. I’ll kill you and bring you back from the dead as a mindless ghoul, forced to obey my every command while the very flesh rots upon your walking corpse.”
Biles creeps up my throat. Especially as his face twists into an expression so wicked even Kaely’s pales in comparison.
He terrifies me.
It’s an awful thing to admit. That the boy I love, the boy I will marry, frightens me so much that a chill rattles through my bones.
I shouldn’t be thinking this. I shouldn’t fear him like everyone else. But I feel only horror.
Kaely stumbles back. A strangled noise escapes her throat as she stifles her fear. She whirls around, searching for witnesses. But aside from the three of us, only the books heard Arluin’s terrifying words.
“You . . .” Her voice quivers. “You wouldn’t dare. You would be banished. Just like your father. Or worse.”
Arluin arches a brow. “What makes you think I fear banishment? Or even death? Do you dare test me?”
Kaely draws in a shaky breath. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
Never have I seen her lost for words.
I should relish in her fear. But I feel only dread.
“You’re still standing here?” Arluin sneers. “You wish to become my undead pet?”
Kaely stares at him, her eyes wide with horror, as if she can’t believe what he’s saying. When Arluin’s lips curl into a wicked smile, she turns and flees without hesitation.
I gaze at the empty spot where she stood. I can barely breathe. Fear still imprisons me. I must banish it. Or my reaction will hurt him.
But I don’t know how to shake away the dread coiling through my stomach.
Arluin draws closer to me. I try not to shudder as he takes my hand. As his thumb brushes over my cheek.
“I just heard what happened this afternoon,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. Are you all right?”
I can only manage a stiff nod.
I am a horrible person. He stepped in to defend me, is worried for my sake, and yet I can barely stand the feel of his touch.
I force myself to meet his eyes. Magenta. They are magenta, and not the color of death.
He must see the fright in my expression since his fingers leave my cheek. His hand releases mine.
“You’re scared of me.” Arluin takes a step away, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Aren’t you, Reyna?”
A wave of guilt crashes into me, and I shake my head hastily, the gesture likely too forceful to look sincere. “No,” I lie, “I’m not scared of you.”
Arluin heaves out a breath and runs his fingers through his loose, dark curls. “I didn’t mean what I said to Kaely. I heard rumors of what she said this afternoon, and with the way she was talking to you now, I just . . .”
“I know,” I say, not meeting his eyes as I reach for his hand. I focus on his fingers and the way they feel against mine. “I know. It’s all right, I promise.” I hope he can’t hear the trepidation in my voice and that my words sound more convincing than they do in my head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his shoulders sagging.
And I am sorry, too. But I don’t tell him that. Because it would mean admitting my fear.
I close the distance between us and wrap my arm around him. I press my head against his chest, staring down at the hardened leather covers bundled in my other arm.
Arluin returns my hug, and we remain like that for a long while.
He’s not a monster. I know he’s not. If he were a monster, how could his embrace be so comforting?
His fingers curl around a stray strand of my hair. “What time will you finish working for Erma?”
“By nightfall. But I doubt she’ll let me leave until I’ve finished returning all the books.”
“I was going to study for a few hours, so I’ll wait until you finish.”
“I’ll stay at yours tonight,” I say, wanting to return the atmosphere to normal.
His lips brush the top of my head in a soft kiss. I give his hand a squeeze before we break away, and I return to the task of tidying away the stack of books.
Ten
Returning all the books takes me several more hours, and we don’t leave the Grand Library until long after nightfall. The Arcanium is mostly empty now, though we pass a few magi as we cross through the atrium.
We step beyond the pillars at the Arcanium’s entrance, and the night breeze washes over my cheeks. Having spent far too long inside the library, the cool night air feels refreshing.
Our hands entwined, we wind down the spiraling stairs and continue past the statues lining the path out of the Arcanium. When we reach the archway with the words QUEL ESTE VOLU, PODE NONQUES VERA MORIRE etched into its stone, we come to a stop. Arluin pulls me nearer and closes his eyes, conjuring aether in his fingers.
Before he can finish casting his teleportation spell, I tug his arm.
“Let’s walk back,” I say.
“Aren’t you tired?” he asks. “Erma had you running around the entire library.”
“She had me running around so much I can’t even feel how tired my legs are. My head is the most tired. Hopefully some fresh air and a gentle stroll will wake me up enough to cook. I can’t even remember when I last ate today.”
“I’ll cook.”
I snort. “How? You can’t cook.”
“I can.”
“Your cooking tastes awful.”
