Page 14 of Ashes of Aether
“We’ll see about that part.”
I lift my head and commit to being on my best behavior. Perhaps then he’ll let me have his present.
He’s never made this much of a deal about presents before. Not even when he got me Mr. Waddles for my sixth birthday. Arluin chose him because ducks are my favorite animal and purple is my favorite color. Even twelve years later, Mr. Waddles still sits on top of my chest of drawers. He’s not as fluffy as he once was, though.
Arluin has always gotten me the most thoughtful presents. That’s why I’m dying to know what this year’s will be.
He closes his eyes and draws aether around us.
“Laxus,” he says, and we leave The Violet Tree behind in a glittering cloud of purple dust.
Five
WeemergeoutsidethegatesofArluin’smanor.Likemine,they’reenchantedtopreventothersfromteleportinginside.TheHarstallfamilycrestfeaturesaserpentcoiledaroundaswordlikevines.Itsforkedtonguedartsout,andI’msureIcanhearithissing.Butthatcouldalsobetheaetherhummingacrossthetallsteelbars.
“Arluin Harstall,” he announces, and the gates swing open.
Arluin carries me through, and they clang shut when we’re on the other side. I could have opened them myself, though perhaps not particularly well in my current state. As the current owner of this manor, Arluin has enchanted the gates to also recognize my voice and my name. But I doubt it would recognize my slurred speech.
While the architecture of his manor is as splendid as ours, the gardens are not comparable. The grass is wild and overgrown with weeds. When I used to visit as a child, the shrubs were perfectly clipped into lions and griffins and stags. Now they have all long lost their magnificent shapes.
The pond is just as neglected. Long ago, it was filled with pink lilies and shimmering fish. And many ducks, too. I always fed them lots of bread, much to his mother’s delight. She loved baking.
Once, I accidentally dropped a large crust into the water and tried to fish it out. I leaned too far over and ended up falling into the pond. Arluin had to pull me out. I thought he would laugh at me for it, but he never did.
I return my attention to him. His raven curls shine in the starlight. He’s so focused on walking and not dropping me that he doesn’t seem to notice me gazing at him.
“You can put me down now if you want,” I say, feeling rather guilty that he’s doing all the work while I’m doing nothing.
“I don’t want to.”
Since I’m quite comfortable, I don’t argue with that.
He carries me through the rest of the gardens and up the few steps leading to the manor’s double doors. Both have brass knockers, and twin serpents coil around each ring. Some of the black lacquer has peeled off the doors, revealing small patches of brown wood. I’ve pointed this out to Arluin many times, but he hasn’t bothered to repaint the doors. There are no servants to do it for him, either. There hasn’t been since Arluin’s mother died. That was when his father, Heston, started delving into necromancy, though it took six years for him to be caught. It was his gray eyes which finally gave him away, along with the inability to draw upon aether. Dark magic consumed and corrupted it all.
The magi searched their manor and discovered the ancient tomes Heston stole from Nolderan’s vaults, where forbidden relics are locked away beneath the Arcanium. It was easy for him to get hold of them, since he was the Archmage of Defense before being exiled and replaced by Kaely’s father.
But I shouldn’t be thinking about such awful things. Especially not on my birthday.
Arluin’s hand shifts beneath my knee as he flicks his wrist.
“Ventrez,” he says, and the conjured gale blows the doors wide open. This is why much of the paint has chipped off. He often uses his magic instead of pushing them open with his hands.
His grasp tightens around my legs, holding me more securely, and then he carries me through the doors. He doesn’t bother shutting them behind us. There’s little reason to do so. The enchanted gates ensure no one can trespass on his property. And since it’s summer, the weather is mild.
His manor is far tidier inside. The tiles are so well polished that they gleam despite being cast in darkness.
“Can you get the lights?” Arluin asks, angling me toward the switches on the left of the doors.
I lean forward and feel the wall until my fingers locate the circular button. I push it firmly, and the chandelier switches on.
It’s like the one hanging inside the Grand Library, but much smaller. Aether crystals droop from the arms. While there are far fewer crystals than the library’s chandelier, they’re more than bright enough to illuminate the hallway.
A deep blue rug sprawls out before us, and it stretches over to the spiraling staircases on the other side of the hall. Golden thread weaves through the rug, forming a hexagonal pattern. Arluin continues over it and ascends the stairs.
“You’d better not drop me,” I warn him when we’re halfway up. I glance back and see that it’s a long way down. I don’t look for long.
A smirk dances on Arluin’s lips, and I wonder whether he’s considering it. Or at least pretending that he is. But he instead replies, “I promise I won’t.”