Araya hesitated, searching for a way to phrase her response without offending him. She wanted to give him a helpful answer, but the thought of Jaxon in the fae districts—it almost made her laugh out loud. The fae of Ravonfar wouldn’t speak to him. Most wouldn’t even let him see them.
A knock on the door saved her, pulling Jaxon’s attention away.
“Ah—that will be Kai,” he said, squeezing Araya’s leg one more time before standing. “Excuse me.”
“They won’t talk to Jaxon, will they?” Garrick asked when they were alone, his tone giving her no hint of what kind of answer he wanted or expected.
Araya chose her next words carefully. “Some of them don’t even talk to Serafina.
A door opened and closed in the next room, laughter echoing as Jaxon’s voice rose in greeting.
“A lot of those females grew up in the camps,” she added. “It doesn’t make you trusting.”
“You grew up Kaldrath,” the High Magister observed, his gaze lingering on her scarred ears.
Araya’s skin prickled, her mouth going dry—but she was saved having to answer by Kai.
The boisterous human mage practically bounded into the room, the half bow he offered Garrick entirely at odds with his wide grin.
“Sir—always a pleasure to see you,” he said. Then, to Araya’s shock, he inclined his head to her as well.
“I’m glad you survived us last night,” he said warmly. “We’ll be able to get your runes settled tonight—sometimes it pays to know people in high places.”
Garrick chuckled. “I imagine Araya is already quite familiar with the advantages of having powerful friends.”
Araya’s ears burned, and even Kai’s easy smile faltered as he glanced between them.
“Right—well.” He cleared his throat, glancing up as Jaxon walked in with two more glasses of amber liquor. “I just need to talk to Jaxon first and then we can get things sorted out.”
“We can use my office,” Jaxon offered, handing over one of the glasses. His hand brushed over her shoulders as he passed, and for a heartbeat Araya thought about reaching out to stop him—but he was already gone. “It’s a mess in here, but?—”
The door clicked shut behind them, cutting Jaxon’s voice off abruptly. Now that she was looking for it, Araya caught the faint gleam ofthynworked into the ornate scrollwork on the door.
A silencing rune—no wonder she hadn’t heard Jaxon and his father come in. They wouldn’t hear anything Garrick had to say to her, either.
“I imagine you’ve guessed that I was not initially in favor of your relationship with my son,” Garrick said, swirling his glass. “But Jaxon can be frustratingly persistent—he’s convinced you offer a perspective the Arcanum is lacking.”
Araya swallowed hard. “I hope I can prove useful, sir.”
“I’m sure you do.” His gaze didn’t waver, pinning her in place with that unwavering authority. “But I want to make sure you understand what it meant—Jaxon coming back here.”
“Requesting a transfer back to Aetheris, solely to bond with you—” the High Magister shook his head, sighing. “That wasn’t an insignificant decision. He cares for you. Deeply.”
Araya watched him warily, waiting for him to continue.
“I won’t insult you by asking if you love him.” Garrick set his glass down with a soft clink. “But do you trust him? After all, you grew up at Kaldrath.” His gaze flicked to her ears again, his expression stern. “Do you still believe he will make the right choices for you—about your magic, your future, your family?”
Araya flushed to the scarred tips of her ears, but this time there was no interruption to save her.
“No offense, sir,” she said quietly. “But after Kaldrath? I trust Jaxon far more with those decisions than I trust the Arcanum.”
Her heart pounded as silence stretched between them, the High Magister studying her with an expression that betrayed nothing. But finally, the corners of his lips tugged into something almost like a smile.
“I understand.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling at her over the rim of his glass. “Let me put you at ease, Araya—you’re here with my full support. Everything Jaxon asked for, I approved. I just have one thing to ask from you.”
Araya tensed as he took a slow sip from his glass, then set it back down with deliberate care. His gaze lingered on her, steady and unreadable.
“A second chance,” he said. “You matter to Jaxon—and he matters to me. I’d rather not be at odds with someone so important to my son.”
