Chapter 1152: What Finds Its Way Back

With the examinations finished, Lucavion discovered that he had nothing to do.

No room waited to measure another part of him. No instructor expected him at an unreasonable hour the following morning, and no lesson required preparation before sleep. Even the vague suspicion that the Academy might produce one final examination from beneath a convenient stone had weakened after Selenne personally declared the entrance period over.

Lucavion celebrated by throwing himself into the bath.

He remained there long enough for steam to cover most of the washroom, taking full advantage of the temperature formation and the generous depth of the basin. Some thoughtful person had designed it so that he could sink until only his head remained above the water without folding himself into an uncomfortable shape.

The Academy possessed many faults.

Its baths were not among them.

When he finally emerged, Lucavion tied a towel around his waist, left another hanging across his shoulders, and stepped into his room with damp hair falling against his forehead. Warmth followed him across the threshold.

He stopped after two steps.

His bare foot pressed more firmly against the stone.

The floor was heated.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Civilization."

Vitaliara lifted her head from the far end of the couch. Her white body had claimed one cushion entirely, while her tail rested across another with the confidence of an ancient creature who contributed nothing toward the residence.

[You have slept on bare ground.]

"That was before I experienced heated floors."

[You did not complain then.]

"I lacked perspective."

Her tail moved once.

Lucavion decided the gesture contained judgment and continued dressing. A loose shirt and comfortable trousers replaced the formal clothing of the Rotunda, after which he dropped onto the couch with all the grace of a man who no longer needed to impress an examiner.

The cushions accepted him immediately.

His head settled against one armrest, one leg remained stretched along the couch, and the other hung over its edge. The posture would have earned several corrections during the etiquette evaluation.

That improved it considerably.

Vitaliara watched him adjust the cushion beneath his neck. [You seem pleased.]

Lucavion opened one eye. "Do I?"

[Very.]

He considered the accusation.

The examination week had been more interesting than expected, but interesting and restful were not the same thing. Each morning had brought another room, another set of rules, and another reminder that much of the knowledge expected from an Academy student had disappeared somewhere during the years he spent learning how not to die.

Now the week was finished.

Really finished.

"The exams are over," he said.

Vitaliara’s eyes narrowed slightly. [That is not why.]

"It is a remarkably convincing reason."

[It is one reason.]

Lucavion reached for the cup on the table and took a drink. "You have become very confident in your understanding of me."

[I know you.]

"That sounds unfortunate."

[It often is.]

A quiet laugh escaped him.

She was right, naturally. The end of the examinations had improved his mood, as had the bath, the couch, and the heated floor, which deserved recognition as one of civilization’s greatest achievements.

None fully explained why his smile returned whenever his thoughts wandered toward the Rotunda.

Before they reached the Salon, Vitaliara had intended to accompany him and observe the evaluation from nearby. She had stopped well short of the entrance instead, her ears lowering as her body went rigid.

[There is something inside.]

The closer she moved, the stronger the pressure became. She had not described it as fear, but as the distinct certainty that the Rotunda wanted her elsewhere, and even her curiosity had yielded before that instinct.

Lucavion had not pressed her.

Her reaction had occurred before his contact with the brazier. Later, the First Flame had reacted to Equinox with a familiarity Lucavion neither expected nor understood. Whatever connection existed between the Flame, the Witness, and the presence Vitaliara had sensed, it had been inside the Rotunda before he arrived.

That was enough for tonight.

The origin could wait until he possessed more than questions arranged around one strange response.

Lucavion drank again and found Vitaliara still watching him.

"What?"

[You are smiling again.]

He touched the corner of his mouth.

Apparently he was.

"The Academy has excellent bathing facilities."

[No.]

"The floor is warm."

[No.]

Lucavion looked toward her. "You are unusually determined to deprive architecture of its achievements."

Vitaliara’s tail flicked. [You are pleased with yourself.]

"Frequently."

[More than usual.]

Denying that would have required more effort than the evening deserved.

Lucavion settled deeper into the couch as his memory returned to sharp features, cold grey eyes, and an expression trained into composure that had failed several times over the course of one argument.

Gervase de Warenne.

Right.

That guy.

Lucavion had expected him to appear eventually. The expectation had become less reliable after the story departed from its original route, since Elara’s altered identity alone should have changed nearly every circumstance surrounding her first year at the Academy.

In Shattered Innocence, she had entered as a commoner.

That position had shaped the beginning of her Academy life. Noble students dismissed her, others became interested in her talent, and several important relationships began because she occupied a place near the bottom of the social order while possessing abilities that refused to remain unnoticed.

Then Lucavion interfered.

One change led into another. Stormhaven happened, Eveline became involved, and the commoner heroine eventually arrived at the Academy as Elowyn Caerlin—a minor noblewoman supported by a history sturdy enough to survive people who treated genealogy as recreation.

A substantial change.

Yet some parts of a story did not disappear when their original path was blocked. They simply found another road toward the same destination.

Elara still entered Selenne’s residential block.

Gervase did as well.

More importantly, he still noticed her.

Lucavion remembered Gervase’s role in the novel more clearly than many of the events around it. He had entered the story as a possible romantic interest: talented, well-born, attractive, and possessive enough for the narrative to briefly pretend that arrogance might become devotion if the correct woman endured it for long enough.

Elara had refused to perform that service.

She rejected him, and Gervase responded by becoming increasingly certain that someone else must be responsible for her refusal. Interest hardened into entitlement, entitlement encountered resistance, and the prospective lover became an antagonist with impressive efficiency.

Lucavion had wondered whether Elowyn Caerlin’s existence would prevent that route from beginning.

Apparently not.

Gervase had still chosen the Rotunda as the place for his first proper approach. The circumstances differed, but the pattern beneath them remained recognizable. His assigned role gave him a reason to observe Elara, he stretched that reason far enough to justify an approach, and personal interest soon began speaking through the language of duty and suitability.

In the original story, Elara had possessed little social room to refuse him cleanly. Cedric had tried to interfere, but both of them had entered the Salon as commoners, while Gervase carried the authority of Warenne behind him. Elara had therefore entertained the approach with enough politeness to avoid creating a larger problem.

The current Elara possessed better protection.

Elowyn Caerlin was a noblewoman, at least publicly, but a minor barony did not become equal to a Marquisate merely because etiquette permitted both names to appear in the same sentence. Gervase could still place pressure upon her without speaking a single threat.

Elara would have found a way through it.

Lucavion did not doubt that. Given enough time, she would construct six arguments, prepare three contingencies, and then explain why all nine technically formed one coherent response.

She should not have needed to.

Not for him.

So Lucavion had arrived first.

Vitaliara’s ears angled toward him. [That smile.]

"How persistent."

[What did you do?]

"I asked someone to dance."

[That is not everything.]

"No," Lucavion admitted. "It rarely is." 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

He rolled the cup between his palms.

Elara’s reasons for accepting him had hardly been simple. She wanted answers, watched him whenever some fragment of his past escaped, and treated half their conversations like investigations wearing friendlier clothing. If she ever discovered a reliable method of opening his skull and organizing its contents, she would probably ask about the risks before attempting it.

Probably.

Even so, she had extended her hand when he needed help.

More than once.

That mattered.

Lucavion looked toward the ceiling, his amusement quieting around the edges.

’I owe you that much.’

He was uncertain whether the thought belonged entirely to Elara.

Gerald would have found something to criticize about the Rotunda. The flower might have earned a grunt of approval, though the dance would probably have received a long silence followed by an observation about Lucavion wasting perfectly useful footwork.

His master’s daughter was safe from one familiar road, at least for the moment.

’Well, Master. What do you say to that?’

[What?] Vitaliara asked.

"Nothing."

She stared at him.

Lucavion ignored her with the ease of long practice.

Helping Elara explained only part of his satisfaction. The rest was smaller, less noble, and considerably more entertaining.

Gervase’s face had been worth remembering.

At the beginning of the dance, Lucavion had passed close enough to speak without Elara hearing. Gervase stood at the edge of the Floor with his shoulders straight and his expression held beneath all the discipline expected from the heir of Warenne.

Lucavion had turned his head just enough.

"Filth."

Then, after the smallest pause—

"How very fitting."

He had expected anger. By then, Gervase already regarded Lucavion’s existence as a personal offense, and one final insult while Elara entered the Floor with another man was unlikely to improve his disposition.

The reaction had been sharper than wounded pride.

For one unguarded instant, the noble composure disappeared entirely. Gervase’s jaw locked before Lucavion finished the second sentence, while something old and immediate tightened around his eyes. The emotion did not resemble the outrage of a Marquis heir insulted by someone beneath him.

It looked as though the word had touched something that already existed.

Then years of discipline forced the response back under control.

All from filth.

Lucavion’s thumb moved slowly along the side of his cup.

’I’ll keep that one.’

A strange reaction did not constitute an answer, but it made a useful place to begin looking. Gervase had revealed his interest in Elara, confirmed that an important route from the novel remained alive, and supplied one possible weakness before the Academy’s first proper lesson.

Not bad for an etiquette examination.

Lucavion placed the cup on the table and stretched one arm above his head. The week had also exposed several dangerous holes in his magical education and provided someone willing to repair them. The Academy’s facilities exceeded expectation, the strange power within the Rotunda had reacted to Equinox, and most of the positions he wanted to establish before classes began had fallen into place.

Nothing was perfect.

Nothing ever was.

Still, Lucavion looked toward the ceiling as though the entire Academy waited above it for his judgment. The grin that spread across his face carried enough anticipation for Vitaliara to lower her ears.

"I would say that went rather well."

[You are going to create trouble.]

"I have done nothing."

[Yet.]

Lucavion raised one hand toward the ceiling.

"Bring it on, Academy!"

Vitaliara closed her eyes.

[End of Volume 5]