“But,” I added, “there are more immediately relevant bits missing from my memory. For instance…what classes am I taking? And what time do they begin, exactly?”
Surely there was a course list buried somewhere on my desk.…
Yet even as my attention narrowed on several stacks of parchment, the breeze from the open shutters sent them fluttering toward the edge. With a groan, I grabbed a wooden box from my nightstand and used it to anchor two of the stacks at once.
“All Mastery-year students take the same courses,” Wilder said. “The Ethics and Advancement of Alchemy, and Advanced Alchemical Ethics and Advancement is from nine to eleven, two days a week. Theories is from two to four in the afternoon, those same two days. Which is nice, because during Fundamentals year we took five classes, and during Proficiency we took three.”
Two classes for my final year. That felt doable.
“And, of course, you’re a teaching assistant.”
“I…am?”
Wilder nodded. “You, and everyone else currently ranked in the top half of our cohort. Which—happily—means that my services are not in demand.” He frowned. “I misspoke. My various services arequitein demand, on many corners of campus. But I am not required to grade papers for free on behalf of a Fundamentals-year professor.”
“What professor am I supposed to assist?” I asked.
“Robards. He teaches a couple of things, but I believe you’re only on the hook for Introductory Theories of Alchemy.”
“When does that meet?”
“Um…” Wilder rose and leaned over the desk, where he shuffled through the sheets of parchment and finally plucked one up. “Here it is.” He scanned the text. “From one to two in the afternoon, three days a week. Starting today.” He handed me the paper, and I scanned a written schedule of my classes—the very information he’d just rattled off.
“And on the other days?” Tuesdays and Thursdays were blank on the schedule, as was Friday, outside of the introductory course.
“Any time we’re not in class, we’re expected to be working on our independent research projects or preparing for the trials. Mastery-year students each have a dedicated lab space on the top floor of the Seminary, in the Advanced Studies lab. Most of us moved all of our stuff in last night.” Wilder grinned, looking almost sheepish. “It was kind of stupid and ceremonial. But I admit, it was fun. We have access to professional-grade resources now, and to plenty of space.” He leaned closer to whisper, one brow arched. “And we’re largely unsupervised.”
“Mostof us moved our stuff in?” My thoughts had caught on that word like a thorn in the hem of my skirt.
“You didn’t show up,” he admitted.
“Why not?”
Wilder laughed, but the sound lacked true amusement. “Amber, you have never been what one might call forthcoming.”
“But you’re my best friend.”At the very least.“Are you not?”
He nodded, vague frustration flickering across his expression.
“So…did you at least ask me?” I set the schedule on my desk, anchored beneath an empty inkpot.
“I didn’t get a chance. Last night got away from us both, and I was going to inquire today why the top student in our Mastery year would skip setting up her private lab space. But then…” He shrugged.
“Then I woke up missing two years of my memory.”
I thought about that as I began straightening the bedclothes, noting that they were not much different than the rough, unbleached sheets I’d slept on at home. The mattress was a thin but sturdy woolen fill inside rough canvas. The only real luxury was the frame itself, considering that I’d slept on a mattress on the floor until I’d left home.
Well, the frame, and the fact that every student at the Alchemary evidently had a private room.
Wilder was clearly no longer impressed by the facilities, but a space to call my own felt novel and special to me. Especially one with a vast view of the ocean.
“Is that normal?” I asked as I tugged at the wool blanket sharply, then let it settle smoothly over the bed. The motion felt practiced. “Did I often fail to show up?”
“For something school-related?” Wilder leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest, his cloak stretched taut across widely spread knees. “No. You skipped your share ofparties, but in two years, you have never missed a class, a lab space reservation, or an academic consultation.”
“Until last night.” I tucked the blanket around the end of the mattress in two directions, executing a perfectly straight corner I could not remember learning.
“Until last night,” he agreed.
