“Before that.” His gaze was trained on me as if he could see right through my skull. “You disappeared from Bollinger’s classroom, and you never arrived for the midday meal.” He frowned. “I was worried, considering there are two dozen strangers on campus today, and—”
“I was studying,” I said, and technically, that was true, even if I hadn’t been studying for class. “Which is more than I can say foryou.” Yoslyn had clearly provided an interesting distraction from whatever concern he’d felt for me.
Wilder’s eyes widened, hurt rippling in the cerulean depths. But he did not look guilty.
If he felt no guilt for flirting with Yoslyn…maybe he wasn’t actually flirting. Or maybe he was, but he didn’t consider that an issue.
Maybe I never had either, before.
“Varrah!” I called as I made my way across the Dormitory courtyard through a throng of milling students. Every bench was full, every stone archway of the colonnade filled with forms in student cloaks leaning against the stone columns. Students perched on the edge of the fountain, despite the cold spray, and slowly wandered the cobblestone patio, anticipation pulsing through the crowd like a shared heartbeat.
Classes had adjourned early for the underclassmen.
Family Weekend had arrived.
“Varrah!” I called again. She stood alone at the far end of the short northern wing of the Dormitory, having stolen a slice of shade from the overhang. Despite the crowd, her classmates had given her plenty of space. Of…solitude.
“There you are!” I came to a stop at her side, and she seemed surprised to see me, despite the fact that I’d been calling her name.
Varrah gave me a quick hug, but her green-and-brown-eyed gaze returned quickly to the quadrangle, which opened up from one side of the Dormitory courtyard. Everyone’s attention was on the central lawn as students waited for a glimpse of their family members.
“Are your parents coming?” she asked softly, her bifurcated voice dancing eerily through my ears to tingle in the folds of my brain.
“Yes. I mean I hope so.” I tucked my arm around hers, drawing her close despite the chilly looks from some of her classmates, who had yet to warm up to her. “Well, my mother died when I was an adolescent. But my father and his husband have promised to attend, if at all possible.”
She turned away from the quadrangle to meet my gaze, her brows dipped low. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother. I didn’t know.”
I hugged her arm. “It was a long time ago now. What about you? Is your cousin coming?”
“Her letter said she would try, but that she was nervous to travel across Aethermere alone. Her husband cannot attend.”
I could only imagine how difficult a time her cousin might have with hired coach drivers and innkeepers who were set on edge by her voice.
“Well then, I hope she makes it, as I look forward to meeting her.”
“I—” Varrah suddenly stiffened. “Erikka!” She tore her arm from my grasp and launched herself across the grass and onto the quadrangle, where she threw herself into the arms of a woman with dark hair, ruddy cheeks, and…one eye that was dark blue, the other a pale green.
When the two women finally parted, Varrah tugged Erikka toward me. “Come meet Amber, my—”
“Friend,” I finished as I held out my hand. “You must be Varrah’s cousin. She speaks highly of you.”
Tension seemed to ease from the woman’s posture as her hand closed around mine. “Amber, it is an honor to meet you.”
We chatted for several minutes while I kept one eye trained upon the festival that had unfolded in the quadrangle, and when I spotted Wilder winding through the growing crowd, twirling his blade over and under the fingers of his right hand, I excused myself with a reminder for Varrah and her cousin to sample the tricolor punch.
I followed Wilder, veering around people, food stalls, and vendor booths, ignoring merchants calling out for me to try meat pies and grilled sausages or to test the flow rate on a “new” no-flame wax seal. Wilder clearly had a goal in mind—I could hardly keep up with him—and I assumed he was headed for some favorite festival treat.
The frozen fruit vendor, maybe? I was curious about the alchemical process that could create ice in the middle of a sunny fall day. Or the cosmic grapes, which were coated in a sparkling syrup so that they resembled a sky full of stars?
Instead, Wilder sheathed his knife and disappeared behind a booth that sold novelty vials and beakers of every color. Those would have little use in true alchemy, because tinted glass disguised the color of its contents. And this glass was of poor quality, riddled with bubbles and uneven in places.
I peered into the booth, but when I looked disinclined to buy anything, the balding merchant gave me a polite goodbye, lifted the tarp at the rear of his stall, and ducked outside. Dimly, I heard whispered voices, so I peeked around the back of the booth, where I found Wilder and the merchant quietly…haggling.
My appearance caught Wilder’s eye over the merchant’s shoulder, but he did not give away my presence.
An agreement was made, coins were exchanged, and Wilder stuffed something into his trouser pocket, beneath his cloak.
I ducked out of sight again, and the merchant returned to his booth. When Wilder reappeared, I fell into step with him. “What was that about?”
