“Regardless of who started it, he wasn’t exactly pushing you away, was he?” Anson asked caustically, although I thought I detected a hint of softening.
For a moment, his words gave me hope that I hadn’t acted alone after all, but a moment’s reflection dashed it. “He’s far too much of a gentleman to push me away at a moment like that,” I said sadly. “I was practically hysterical with fear.”
Anson’s brow rose. “What happened to only being friends?”
I didn’t attempt to reply. What reply could I possibly make?
The scene when we reached home was painful beyond words. News of the latest killing had reached the house ahead of us, so we were initially pounced on for fresh news, everyone exclaiming at once.
But Anson responded brusquely, telling them it had been a Robart—something I hadn’t known—before announcing there was something more pressing we needed to discuss. I had been hoping to avoid a full family council, but everyone was home except Harvey, and he arrived two minutes after us, bringing the news of the killing in case we hadn’t heard.
All six of them filed into the sitting room, their faces ranging from curious to concerned. But when Anson gave them a brief and unflattering account of my summer with my mage tutor, they responded with a united front.
By the time I finally escaped to my bed after the evening meal, nothing could have been clearer. Mages did not have serious romantic intentions toward commonborns. It was impossible. And I was a fool to throw myself at him. I had only set myself up for heartbreak.
“It could be worse than youthful heartbreak, too,” Harvey had said in his measured way. “You say he’s a decent enough sort, and I hope you’re right. But if he is, he may well feel some measure of shame when his interest moves on. If that happens, he might find it uncomfortable to see you, even in passing, and he might exert influence to make sure you don’t cross paths in the future. This could end up limiting your career opportunities.”
“He’s a minor mage,” I said weakly, knowing it would be useless to protest that Zak would never do that. “How much influence can he have if he’s spending his time tutoring in the lower city?”
“Even so, he’s a mage,” my father said. “And he’s just spent four years at the Academy with every mage his age in the kingdom. He moves in circles we don’t even understand.”
They all thought I had been inexcusably foolish, but even so, they directed their anger toward Zak, their attitude toward me one of concern. It was that loving concern that eventually wore me down until I capitulated to my mother’s demands and promised I would stop studying with Zak. I had made enough progress that I could continue my reading practice without him, so I had no excuse to give.
Anson had added that I wasn’t to go wandering around the markets with him either. I put up no protest to that final restriction, already having accepted that my summer with Zak was over. Even the weather had turned, and there were only two weeks left until University classes started.
Not that my family could keep me away from him forever. They had to know that I would see him again once we both started at the University.
But they seemed to hope that a period of separation would bring me to my right mind, and that when we were at the University, we would find ourselves in different spheres entirely. Likely they were right.
In the hopes of alleviating my mother’s teary self-recriminations for not inspecting Zak for herself before agreeing to our tutoring exchange, I told them about my reconciliation with Gina. That news was greeted with joy, and my mother had soon convinced herself that at the University I would be too busy with Gina and her friends to even notice the mage students.
Lying in my bed, I allowed myself a small, bitter laugh. If my family thought that two weeks was enough to forget Zak, they were utterly mistaken.
Even with the embarrassment that now overlaid my bold actions, I couldn’t help re-living our kiss again and again. Alone in my room, I could feel the pressure of his arms around me and the fire of his lips on mine.
My family didn’t know Zak. And they didn’t know the strength of my feelings for him. Two weeks wasn’t close to enough. They hoped that heartbreak could still be averted, but it was too late for that.
But they had one thing right. Mages didn’t marry commonborns, whatever I had told myself about the gap between us shrinking.
The next morning, I rose without looking at myself in the mirror. I didn’t want to see the dark circles under my eyes that would proclaim my lack of rest.
I dressed hurriedly, creeping through the house and peering around corners to make sure I escaped the house unseen. I wasn’t sure if my family would stop me, but I couldn’t risk finding out.
The night before I had promised that I would end my studies with Zak, and even that I wouldn’t spend time with him outside the office of sealed affairs. But I couldn’t just disappear. They didn’t know him like I did, and he would be deeply worried at any unexplained absence. He might even come to our house again.
I shivered at the prospect of that scene. I didn’t want my family confronting Zak. And that meant I needed to meet him one more time to explain that I couldn’t see him until we started at the University.
I scanned the streets as I jogged through the city, finally spotting him three streets away from the sandstone building.He greeted me with concern, his eyes assessing my face, and his look of worry growing deeper. I beckoned him down the cleanest-looking alley I could find, and he readily followed. But now that the moment had come, it was hard to find the right words.
“I can’t study with you anymore,” I finally blurted out.
His brows drew together. “Why not? We still have two weeks before classes?—”
“I promised my family,” I said miserably, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s only for two more weeks, so you shouldn’t be disadvantaged by it…” I trailed off, unable to think of any explanation that wouldn’t be insulting to him.
My family had misunderstood Zak’s nature, attributing ill intent toward him that I couldn’t speak out loud. And neither could I confess the humiliating truth about my own feelings or my understanding of the impossibility of his ever returning them in any serious way.
“Is this because I kissed you?” he asked. “Because I?—”
