Cal raised his glass and waved his other hand. “Cheers, Uncle. Care to join me in a toast to our family reunion last night?”
Another glass appeared in front of Cyrus, filled with the amber liquid and sloshing over the sides, causing him to stop short or else be covered in the aged whiskey.
The headmaster clicked his tongue against his teeth. “A Mistral man and especially a Darkmore hold themselves to a higher comportment. They certainly do not day drink in public. Save your histrionics for behind closed doors, Calder. You’re not a woman.” disdain dripped from his voice.
Cal gritted his teeth. His uncle’s disparaging comments about women always grated on his nerves but to say so was to invite his uncle’s wrath.
Cyrus took the glass in front of him and walked to the window, looking down at the students. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his tailored trousers and crossed an ankle over the other, leaning against a curved stone wall. To the casual eye, it was a heartwarming scene. An uncle and nephew sharing a drink and silent reflection, but truly it was a battle of wills of who would break the silence first.
Cyrus was a master of frozen silences and icing Calder out when he disapproved of his nephew’s behavior, as he often did. He had once gone nearly three months without hearing his uncle’s voice when he was caught crying over his parent’s fate. Nearly three months without hearing a familial voice or kind word and so soon after his brother’s betrayal. He had thought he might go mad from it.
The grimoire pulsed reassuringly against Cal’s skin, and he took another sip from his glass. The familiar caramel and oak taste burned soothingly down his throat and warmth spread through his chest. He thought about what Ara said and a chill ran over his flushed skin.
‘It’s like it wants out.’
The book had always provided him comfort, something he knew was odd. Books did not have sentience but this wasn’t just any book. It nearly purred against his chest in response.
“How did you get into my office without triggering the wards?” Cyrus finally broke the silence, his voice cold.
Cal smirked and, with a wave of his hand, a green portal into the headmaster’s office appeared next to them. “You taught me a little too well, Uncle. Your wards only work on your door.”
Cyrus vanished his glass and folded his hands behind his back. “A mistake that will soon be rectified, Nephew. Get to class. I don’t want to find a report on my desk that you’ve missed yet another day. There have been far too many of those as of late. What exactly were you doing?”
Just sleeping away the exhaustion that comes with beating the shit out of my brother, both physically and magically. Not to mention being bitten by a giant snake that may or may not be venomous.
Though he wasn’t sure it was so much that and not the magical connection he had seemed to forge with Ara. Cal tightened his lips and looked away. Learning that she could hear his thoughts had unnerved him more than he let on yesterday. He didn’t let anyone into his head, had fortified the mental walls around his mind so that it never happened, and there she was.
Cyrus clapped his hand on Cal’s shoulder and gripped it tightly, leaning down to whisper, “Perhaps I should consider your brother’s request to send you to a different school. Your laziness is astounding.”
Cal pulled away and rubbed the throbbing joint.
“Your concern is duly noted, Uncle,” he spat. “I’ll work harder to live up to the Darkmore name.”
“See that you do, or our private sessions will begin again. Am I understood?” The threat in his uncle’s voice was clear.
Cal suppressed a shudder at the thought of what those private sessions comprised. “Yes, Uncle. Understood.”
Those very lessons were where he learned how to strengthen the shield around his mind. In his uncle’s office stripped from the waist up, late into the night, deprived of food and water while his uncle lashed at him physically and magically. A lash to the back anytime Cal didn’t know the answer to one of Cyrus’s questions. A cane to the back anytime Cyrus made his way through Cal’s mental shields. For Ara to just be in his head with no prying, without breaking him down physically or mentally . . . what did it mean?
He waited for his uncle’s overbearing presence to fade away and once he heard the heavy doors to the library open and then thud shut; he knew he was alone once more. Even the ancient scribe who oversaw the books retreated to a secluded office and locked the door for his afternoon nap.
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, the seat molding around his long form. He intended only to rest for a moment. Just a moment and then he would do as his uncle commanded, but when he opened his eyes again, day had faded to night and fire flickered from the sconces that lit the library in a comforting warm yellow glow.
He sighed. He had missed an entire day of classes. Classes he had planned to miss anyway, but after Cyrus’s admonishment earlier, he was sure to receive yet another lecture. Perhaps he would luck out and receive three months’ silence instead. Silence he now welcomed rather than feared.
An answering sigh sounded in the back of his head, as if it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. He felt as if he could almost see around the bend to the light at the end where the sound was if he tried hard enough.
He sat up, gripping the arms of the chair. “Ara?”
The sound stopped and the distance between them closed as she must have realized she could hear him.
Cal?she asked, her voice a whisper in his head. He could feel her panic.How are you in my head?
Bile rose in his throat as her panic joined his. The years he spent building the walls around his mind, protecting himself from his uncle, the progress he had made, gone in an instant. If she was in his head it wouldn’t be long before she hated him as much as he hated himself. He pushed those thoughts away before she could hear them.
Did he need to say the words out loud for her to hear him, he wondered.
I heard you loud and clear. As if you were next to me.
