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5
When class ended, Agora promised to follow up and get to the bottom of the heir’s absence. “I’ll circle back with the Shiverians. And while I do that, what about the Broods? They offered an interview early on in your recruitment process. A low-level cousin of the family, but it would be a start. That’s all you really need, Ren. A starting point. There are no limits once you’re in the door.”
Ren was already shaking her head, though. “Thank you, Professor, but no. Any other house but House Brood.”
Agora apologized one more time as Ren left the room. It was a mercy that the end of Magical Ethics at least coincided with the day’s first glimpse of Devlin Albright.
The two of them had been dating for a few months now. Nothing too serious, but certainly a welcome distraction. Devlin was the youngest son of a merchant. Not only was he handsome, but he was also a potential backup option if none of the superior houses pursued her contract.
His family was as rich as the rest of their peers’, but their wealth was newly earned. His father’s trade had elevated their status in less than a decade. The only reason Ren could stomach dating him was that there wasn’t a hallway of gaudy portraits hanging anywhere in the Albright household. It also didn’t hurt that Devlin looked like he’d been carved out of stone.
He had dark hair, trimmed high and tight on the sides. His green eyes were deep set, like they’d been hammered into his light brown face by a Citadel jeweler. Today Devlin wore a navy wool cardigan over a too-tight collared shirt. She liked the way he always buttoned things all the way up to his throat.
Devlin was looking particularly broody this morning. Combat training with the Brightsword Legion had been more demanding than expected. She’d tried to warn him. Brightsword was the military arm of the government. A city guard supported by city taxes. Unlike the armies recruited and retained by the wealthy houses, they didn’t have enough money to hire all their recruits. Which meant they tried to force out as many applicants as possible during the training process. He’d still applied, because he thought Brightsword was the most noble place to serve. She hadn’t bothered to mention that their legion hadn’t been in a proper battle for decades.
Ren and Devlin had spent far less time together ever since training started. She hadn’t minded because the other result of his training was equally rewarding. She set a hand on one of those rewards—his finely carved chest—as she kissed him hello.
“Good morning. You’re looking well.”
He nodded. “Finally got my divinity shield sorted out. How was Ethics?”
They started walking toward the back of the building, where a set of double doors led to the main quad. Ren hadn’t told him about the interview, and now she was glad that only Agora had known. It meant there were fewer people to pity her. She despised pity.
“Oh, you know, discussing the moral implications of enchanted swords.”
“The Marcus and Rowan debate?”
Devlin was a year older and had been through several of the same classes she was taking now. Another advantage of their relationship. He’d been reluctant to pass on his actual notes. A side effect of training to be a paladin was uprightness. Her request to borrow his papers had been viewed as cheating, but a little convincing had drawn out plenty of helpful advice since then.
“A tale as old as time,” Ren confirmed.
“And who did you think won the challenge?”
“I used the Beneficent Effect to argue that Marcus’s sword is more problematic than the story suggests. Full marks from Agora. Naturally.”
She expected Devlin to grin but caught a flicker of some other emotion on his face.
“What?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s clever.”
She knew it was clever, but she didn’t know why he was being so odd about it. There was no point dragging him into a debate, though. Devlin had been stressed over the past few weeks. His divinity shield had cracked during a training session. Divinity shields were delightfully complex magic. A shield spell, looped into an ongoing growth spell, woven through with a favorability charm. As long as the wielder treated others “with noble intention,” the spell would grow more and more powerful over time. Devlin was embarrassed by an early crack in his shield, even if it was incredibly common for trainees.
Outside, sunlight greeted them. The fair weather had lured a sprawling scene onto Balmerick’s open quad. Underclassmen on blankets, their scarves set aside to sun their necks. Brief flashes of practiced magic. Ren even spied a pair of hellhound puppies being paraded around near the school’s memorial statues, their bifurcated tongues lolling happily. It was a shame that she intended to spend the rest of the day practicing spells in an archive room.
“It’s nice out,” she noted.
Devlin shrugged again.
Another downside to dating a paladin in training. Broody often meant enigmatic. And enigmatic was a slippery slope toward boring. She was about to ask if he wanted to come over to study later when Devlin turned to her. He could not have looked more uncomfortable. It was like he was trying to escape from his own body in order to avoid the coming moment.
“Look, Ren, we need to talk.”
She raised a knife-sharp eyebrow. “We are talking.”
“It… this… look. It’s been fun, but it doesn’t…”
He trailed off as a pair of younger girls passed. Both of them snuck glances at Devlin, though he pretended not to notice. Their boldness helped Ren find her own voice.
