Page 29 of Ashes of Aether

The last of my father’s rage slips away. His shoulders relax, no longer trembling with molten fury. “I see. Good.”

“So, does that mean I’m still allowed to see him?”

“He remains a distraction from your studies.”

“No, he doesn’t. Arluin studies harder than every other adept in the entire Arcanium, just to prove he isn’t like his father. That he doesn’t deserve the way people fear and shun him. Ask Archmage Gidston if you don’t believe me. And if you want to blame someone for distracting me from my studies, then blame Eliya. After all, we spend most of our time laughing and gossiping. But you’re not cruel enough to stop me from seeing her, are you? Not that you could, since we have the same classes every day.”

My father shakes his head and takes to staring out the window once more. I hope the fact he’s lost for words means I won this argument.

“There’s also the matter of your punishment,” he says after a pause.

“It’s fine. A month’s suspension is fair. I did launch a fireball at Kaely, after all.”

He scoffs. “Not a chance. You will certainly not be receiving a month’s suspension from your studies.”

“Why not? I’m guilty.”

“I know you’re guilty.”

I frown at him. Not that he can see it. He still faces the arched window.

“Reyna, you forget that I am your father and that I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re looking forward to having a month off from your studies and doing nothing at all.”

“No, I’m not.”

He turns to me and raises a bushy auburn brow. “If you insist on lying to me, I will worsen your punishment.”

“Fine,” I huff. “I may have been looking forward to some time off from my studies.”

He gives a satisfied nod and then returns to the window. “That is why suspension would be an ill-fitting punishment. Fortunately, the one I have in mind is far more appropriate.”

My heart dips. If it isn’t expulsion or suspension, I’m scared to imagine what it will be.“What punishment?”

“Community service,” he says, his mouth quirking. “At the library.”

Nine

ThoughmyfathersaidhemustswiftlyreturntoTirith’sambassadors,henowhasnoproblemwithmarchingmetotheGrandLibraryhimself.It’sasifhedoesn’ttrustmetodelivermyselftoErmaDarkholme.

I can’t possibly think why that would be.

He leads me out of the office and down the central spire. The winding staircase is so narrow there’s not enough room for people to pass simultaneously. Flickering aether crystals are fixed to the walls like sconces, but their pale light fails to illuminate the entire spire.

The steps spiral down so far I can’t see their end. The ornate rail is all which prevents me from tripping and plummeting into the unending darkness.

At the sight of the Grandmage, the magi ascending the stairs halt. They step aside, leaning into the walls to make room for us, and bow their heads in deference to my father. If it weren’t for his position, I’m sure it would take us far longer to reach the bottom.

The antechamber we arrive in is high-ceilinged and dozens of portraits decorate every inch of the room. Like the paintings of my ancestors inside my manor, they are enchanted with aether, and the magi within the frames seem very much alive. All are dressed in their purple robes. Some wave at us, while others are far too busy reading their tomes.

Many elaborate benches lie beneath the portraits, and a group of adepts sit on the leftmost ones. First-years, I think. When we enter they’re giggling and gossiping loudly, but they all fall silent as my father strides past. Apprehension initially clouds their magenta eyes, but it soon changes to intrigue upon noticing me. The entire Arcanium—perhaps even the whole city—will have already heard what I did. How the Grandmage’s daughter launched a fireball at the Archmage of Defense’s daughter, right in front of the Founder’s statue. I don’t doubt these first-years will start chattering about it as soon as we’re out of earshot.

The antechamber leads to the Arcanium’s atrium. Aether crystals glitter high above, twinkling in the late noon sunlight. The faerie dragons assigned to the Arcanium aren’t polishing the ceiling today. Instead, they are supervising the enchanted brooms as they sweep across the polished marble floor.

The Grand Library lies opposite us, and my father marches toward it. Like on the stairs, the magi passing through the atrium pause to dip their heads at my father. He returns a brief nod, but his attention doesn’t leave the library’s entrance.