The office door gave a soft groan as Marco pushed it open.

  Cold, artificial light filled Loren’s room. Papers were strewn everywhere, across the table, across the floor, some stacked, most not. She reclined deeply back, writing something with erratic movements.

  Marco stopped just inside the doorway, waiting for her to acknowledge his entry.

  There was tension in the air. Still, he stayed silent.

  Eventually, Loren looked up.

  Old, lean, tired. Her eyes flicked over him as if assessing a stain.

  “You,” she said, voice thin. “I’m supposed to evaluate you?”

  “Yes, Archmage Loren,” he nodded. “I’ve been told my skills are ahead of my group.”

  “Abilities are one thing,” she tapped the quill against the desk, then set it aside. “But with growth, character must come.”

  “I am ready to work hard.”

  “Not what I meant. You would not arm a traitorous bastard,” her gaze sharpened. “Would you?”

  What?

  Was she onto him? Did she know about the rebels?

  “I–” Marco’s heart sped up. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t like the sight of cowards getting to live their lives in peace,” Loren tapped her finger on the table. “There’s nothing you could show me that would change your past.”

  Her words were sharp, each meant to cut, but all they brought was confusion. He was still alive, so it couldn’t have been about the rebels. But then what? And of all things to call him…

  Naive? Sure. Weak? Absolutely. But a coward?

  “I don’t think I follow,” he said. “Have we met before?”

  “You come from Grainwick, no?” Her voice rose. “A village that no longer exists. A place where a hero died, and yet here you are, trying to move up in the world.”

  “We fought as long as we could,” Marco tilted his head. “We only left once there was no more hope.”

  “I’m sure you did,” she sneered. “A child survived a battle a hero couldn’t. Curious thing, a coward’s mind.”

  A crucial misunderstanding that he just had to politely resolve.

  “With all due respect,” Marco’s tone grew bitter. “I fought until dawn. So did my parents… When over four hundred people bled and died, side by side with sir Bren…” His voice cracked. “Where were you, if you care so much?”

  Loren’s face twisted.

  Before he could blink, steel flashed. The edge of her sword pressed against his neck, cold and merciless. Her hand shook, her eyes full of hollow fury. Her lips parted, but no words came.

  Marco stared at her, breathing hard. Some distant part of him screamed for him to take it back. To stop, but it felt muted, irrelevant.

  “I see,” he said, voice flat. “You left him to die and you take it out on me.”

  A long, shaking breath left her. Her fingers steadied. The sword disappeared from his vision and clicked back into its sheath.

  “Get out,” she muttered.

  Marco’s eyes widened.

  “Get out!” she repeated, louder.

  He turned, feeling a soft trickle of blood down his neck.

  “I don’t want to see you at my academy ever again,” Loren’s voice reached him just before he closed the door.

  The rage drained out of him instantly, leaving him hollow.

  The reality turned his guts upside down. Had he just ruined everything in a fit of pride?

  Marco staggered to a nearby bench and sat down hard, pressing both hands to his face.

  Maybe he could still go back. Fall to his knees if he had to. Beg. Apologize. Anything.

  He couldn’t bring himself to stand.

  Marco sat there for a long time, hunched forward on the bench, elbows on his knees, hands pressed against his face. The cut on his neck stung, but he paid it no mind.

  Every few breaths, the same thought stabbed through him: What have I done?

  He didn’t know how much time passed before soft, familiar footsteps stopped in front of him.

  “There you are,” Diana said. “I was waiting for your triumphant return. Should I assume it didn’t go according to plan?”

  “I…” Marco let his hands fall. “I think I got kicked out.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Oh?” Diana’s head tipped slightly. “And how exactly did that happen?”

  He told her all of it. Loren’s accusations, how he ‘handled’ them, the final order to never show himself again. By the time he finished, his throat felt tight and raw.

  “On the bright side,” Diana only smirked. “Looks like we found the source of your problems at the academy.”

  “Having the most influential person in the academy furious with me is not exactly ideal.” Marco wasn’t amused. “Even if she takes back that order, I am done for.”

  “Marco, you’re being pathetic,” Diana scoffed. “She’s in the wrong and you know it.”

  “Oh, and what can I do, o great lady?” he shot back, the bitterness leaking out. “Unlike you, I can’t use my family to jump over every obstacle.”

  “Careful.” Diana’s breath caught sharply, teeth clenched.

  “You’re just proving my point.”

  A flicker of hurt crossed her eyes.

  “Though I know you don’t mean it, it stings all the same,” she said, voice low. “You’re rattled. Get a hold of yourself.”

  Marco opened his mouth for another retort, but stopped himself. He really looked at her. At her mask. At her features, now scrunched up in pain.

  She had gone through the same family hell Aura did. So why in hell would he ever say something like that to her?

  “I’m sorry.” His head dropped. “I don’t know what came over me. I respect you immensely. And I see all the hard work you’re putting in.”

  “Why couldn’t you have been born a few years earlier? This would be so much easier.” Diana let out a long, suffering sigh. “Managing outbursts is not pleasant.”

  “I will do better,” Marco said, bowing his head.

  For a moment, they studied one another.

  She and Aura weren’t identical, but the resemblance was there. His aunt—barely older than him. Absurd.

  He couldn’t help the small smile appearing onto his face. The incredulity of their circumstance was just too much.

  “What’s with that creepy smile? If you’re making fun of me, you can get kicked out and rot for all I care,” Diana asked, brows arching.

  “No, no,” Marco raised his hands quickly. “I meant what I said. And please—help me. I messed up so much I don’t even know what to call it.”

  “I could get used to a humbled version of you,” she smoothed out her hair, adjusted her silver hairpin. “And it’s not like I can leave you behind, you’re important to…” she stuttered slightly, “...my plans.”

  For a moment, she seemed almost saintly. Not quite as much as Sophie, but close.

  “Archmage Loren was born a commoner, so she might not know it…” Diana touched a finger to her lips, the way she always did when thinking. “But there is always a bigger fish in a pond.”

  “You don’t mean…” His eyes widened.

  “Yes, Lord Romuald is one option.” She nodded. “In any case, archmage Loren overstepped. We should be able to overturn her decision, but it will take some time.”

  Marco’s shoulders sagged as he breathed out all the air he was holding. “I don’t know what I would do without your help.”

  “Probably something illegal,” she chuckled. “But who knows, if we play our cards right, maybe we can even get something good out of all this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Can’t say, in case it doesn’t work out.”

  The garden was quiet, save for the soft rustle of weeds being pulled. Marco sat on a flat stone, pages spread across his lap, sounding out lines of ancient script.

  Aura knelt in the dirt, sleeves rolled up, replacing unwanted shrubs with flower seeds.

  He tried to focus, but every few lines his mind slipped back to the same problem.

  He had to spend a few days away from the academy, per Diana’s order.

  Best case, the issue would be resolved. Worst case… well, he’d be kicked out.

  He’d no longer be useful to Diana, but Ualani could probably tutor him. Not the end of the world.

  But he could never try golemancy. Or enchanting.

  Just as it started getting interesting, he’d have to go back to fighting for scraps of knowledge.

  He caught himself imagining the marble golems from the academy. How much could they do, had he applied his knowledge of robotics to them?

  “Marco?” Aura’s voice broke the spiral. “What’s wrong?”

  He blinked, realizing she’d stopped talking entirely and was just sitting there.

  “I can’t focus.” He rubbed his eyes.

  “Why?” She put down the trowel at once. “Did something happen?”

  “I failed my evaluation…” He told her everything. Loren’s accusations, the sword at his throat, the way he’d snapped back.

  Aura listened, her expression souring more the longer he spoke.

  “To call anyone else a coward,” she whispered. “I could understand. But us?”

  “Yeah, it felt unfair.”

  “Let’s take a break for now.” She shook her head. “Translation from ancient is grueling enough with a fresh mind.”

  Marco folded the pages closed. It took barely a few seconds for him to grow restless again.

  “In that case…” he started again, “Could you help me with something else? Ualani gave me a recipe for a potion.”

  Aura wiped her hands on her apron and came over. “Let me see.”

  He handed her the small sheet. She scanned it once, twice, then hummed.

  “It’s not too hard,” she said. “Sublime a mushroom, infuse it into a plant.”

  Marco nodded automatically. Aura frowned.

  “But that plant, melos, is concerning,” she continued. “People like to chew them, but concentrated extract is illegal.”

  “Why?” Marco asked, but without much care. If Ualani’s recipe counted as a drug, he couldn’t care less. It was like coffee, and unless it was deadly, he’d drink it by the barrel.

  “Melos gives a burst of concentration,” Aura said. “But when you use a lot at once, that turns into euphoria.”

  “So people use the extract to fly off to the Goddess?” Marco guessed.

  “Where did you hear something like that?” Aura’s eyes widened. “Does someone at the academy—”

  “No, no,” Marco laughed lightly. “Just a joke I heard someone make, mom.”

  She sighed and continued examining the recipe. “Here the mushroom spreads the effect across a longer time. Similar to how the sleeping draught is made, actually.”

  “So, even if partial materials are shady, the potion should be safe?” Marco concluded. “Could we make some? Ualani said it helps with studying.”

  Aura looked around the garden as if checking no one else was listening. “If it’s for studying… We could try it out.”

  “That’s fine,” Marco said. He’d learn to make it by himself after just one or two attempts with her anyway.

  Aura returned to her flowers, gently patting soil around a cluster of roots. Marco leaned back, staring up at the sky between the rocky walls.

  He still needed a plan for Hito.

  Reporting the bribes anonymously could work, but Hito wasn’t stupid. He could put the pieces together and drag Sophie down with him.

  Could they come clean themselves? They’d control the narrative and eat the reduced punishment.

  But that would also give Hito a heads-up about their direction.

  Marco groaned, thinking hard.

  The trick was to find a way to shut him down without giving him the time—or credibility—to lash out.

  There wasn’t time to waste, every day that man went free was a day Sophie could be hurt.

  And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen.