A chamberlain entered the room. “Go with him,” Killian said. “He’ll show you to your new chambers.”
Carla again kissed Killian’s cheek, just to the side of his mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I want to talk more and hear more about what you’ve been doing. You’ve changed so much!”
“I suppose we’re both older.”
“Not too much older, I hope?” Carla smiled at him over her shoulder as she followed the chamberlain from the room.
Killian sat for a long time after she’d departed, staring without seeing in the direction she’d gone, and then he heard a throat clear behind him.
Lady Alise, Killian’s mother, stood with her hands on her hips, disapproval written across every line of her face. She was slim and fine boned, and still beautiful despite the gray streaks in her long brown hair. She never followed Tingaran fashion, letting her hair cascade down her back when the other ladies were in curls and foregoing embroidered purple for plain brown dresses.
Lady Alise was a force to be reckoned with in the palace, and even Rogan Jarvish gave her as much time as she asked of him. She’d initially stepped reluctantly into her new role, but Alise now saw it as her duty to keep Killian abreast of the various machinations within the court. She loved Killian fiercely, sometimes in a way that frightened him, but he loved her in return.
“She has nowhere to stay,” Killian protested. Why did he always sound like a whining child when he was with her?
“You don’t know her,” Alise said flatly.
“I’ve told you about what she’s been through. We’re old friends.”
“You haven’t seen her in many years. She left you without a care for your fate.”
Killian scowled. “Mother, we were once very close. I can’t leave her out in the cold. This is my city, and I have a responsibility to everyone who was affected by the war. The economy is shaky—you always say that—and it’s hard for many.”
“Yes, charity is an important part of your mandate,” Alise said, “but focused charity, intended to help the most people with a sustainable solution for their plight. She has her eye on you, my son. I thought your heart was with another.”
Killian flushed. He could still remember Carla’s warmth beside him on the sofa.
“I can’t turn her away,” Killian said. “She needs my help. It’s only temporary.”
“Be careful. That’s all I ask. You need to know those you trust to their core. You are the emperor, but you are young and inexperienced. I have seen the way Ella looks at you. Think well before you break her heart.”
With a final stern look, Killian’s mother turned and left him.
Killian watched her go, and then wondered where Carla’s new chambers were.
He could still smell perfume in his nostrils.
11
The Academy of Enchanters in Sarostar was the scene of intense activity. A series of buildings that clustered around the Great Court, with an archway at one end of the Court facing the Green Tower at the other, the Academy was grand in a way the Crystal Palace could never be. Where the palace was ethereal, the Academy was solid. The Crystal Palace was a place of beauty, a demonstration of the things enchantment could do. In contrast, powerful works of lore came out of the Academy. Lore was serious business, and this place demanded it be treated as such.
At noon, springtime in Altura, the glow of runes in the Great Court competed with the bright light of the sun. The workshops of the masters and qualified enchanters were busy, but not as frantic as the grassy expanse at the Academy’s heart.
The things being built in the Great Court were too big for any workshop. This lore was too dangerous to be confined.
Enchanters, assisted by their students, constructed zenblades, armorsilk, rail bows, and runebombs. By a strict designation, the faculty demanded there be significant distance between the workbenches, for both access and safety, yet no space was as clear as where Ella worked in the very center.
Ella was sad to see the centurion trees all gone, but once the decision was made to utilize the Great Court with its ideal location, they’d all been cleared away. One day new trees might grow, but they would take hundreds of years to reach the majestic beauty of their ancestors. As a student Ella had sat under the shade of the centurion trees, reading and learning. She’d made friends with Amber here, and this was where her brother had watched her graduate. When Tomas was poisoned, Ella had passed under the tall branches to pray to the statue of Evora Guinestor, still sternly watching the activity below from her lofty height. The centurion trees were gone, but even so, Ella felt at home here more than at any other place.