TARON'S POV
"If you are not busy, I was going to get lunch. You can join me."
Kael's sudden invitation made me hesitant to answer.
It wasn't because I couldn't hear him or because any answer could become complicated. It was because it was from Kael, the same Kael who had treated any spectrum of emotional vulnerability as an illegal experiment.
And he asked me to lunch.
Voluntarily. Without me having to threaten him.
I wouldn't threaten him, of course, but the point still stands.
I couldn't help myself as I blinked once in response, then twice.
'Did Kael really just ask me what I think he just asked me?'
He looked at me with that usual calm expression of his, though now that I knew him a little better, I could tell there was a slight awkwardness beneath it. It was subtle, of course, but Kael's expressions moved with the emotional range of a stationary tree most of the time.
But it was there. He had asked.
And that meant something.
My smirk almost escaped onto my face before I could stop it.
'I guess I'm finally growing on Kael.'
It was obviously going to happen.
It was only a matter of time.
Naturally.
I wanted to say yes immediately.
Actually, that wasn't fully true. I actually wanted to throw an arm around his shoulder, announce that this was a historic moment for all commoner-noble relations, possibly write the date down somewhere important, and then march him to the cafeteria before he could rethink his decision.
But unfortunately, I had other matters to address first.
Professor Anlor.
The man had left the classroom wearing the face of someone who had lost a round but not the entire game. There wasn't a shred of embarrassment on his face. Was he irritated? Yes. Annoyed? absolutely. But underneath that boring expression of his was calculation.
Kael had beaten him in public.
And Professor Anlor doesn't strike me as someone who enjoyed being made to accept his defeat and pride, least of all in public.
I glanced toward the door Professor Anlor had disappeared through.
'Of course, there was always going to be friction between him and Kael because of the Prestige Electives stuff,' I thought. 'But it can't be that serious, right?'
Then my own thoughts betrayed me.
'I didn't even care about it until I found out Kael was going.'
That was true.
Don't get me wrong, the Prestige Electives were, well, prestigious, obviously. They certainly weren't subtle with the naming, and that only made heirs of all sorts of noble houses want those recommendations even more. The prospect of being selected would become future leverage, open up mentorships, not to mention resources.
But I didn't care enough to put effort into obtaining a slot.
There will always be slots available somewhere.
Not to toot my own horn, but there'll always be opportunities for someone like me.
But for Kael? And as much as I hate to say it, a commoner?
One recommendation from Professor Orin could change everything. It would change his life. That was the part people like Darius and Professor Anlor seemed to hate. Kael getting one opportunity meant that someone who was already born with hundreds was about to lose one, yet for some reason, a few in the Academy treated that like a tragedy.
'They're all spoilt. None of them is even remotely close to as interesting as Kael.'
I gave Kael a slightly dejected look.
"Yeah," I said, "I'll catch up with you in the cafeteria."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But?"
But," I said, glancing again toward the door, "there's something I've gotta take care of first."
Kael followed my gaze.
There was a pause before he replied.
"Try your best not to start a political accident."
I placed a hand over my chest in dramatic fashion.
"Kael, I am wounded; you would think so little of me."
"I think exactly enough of you."
Fair.
'Slightly painful, but fair.'
"Haha. Fair."
I turned and started walking toward the door, preventing myself from changing my mind.
Behind me, Kael gathered his things and headed in the opposite direction, towards lunch, towards food, towards the invitation I had spent days waiting for without technically admitting it.
Which I never will, by the way.
"What a shame,' I said. 'I finally get him to initiate something, and I have to go investigate a dodgy professor instead."
A tragedy.
But a necessary one.
This was something only I could do.
'Kael couldn't follow Professor Anlor through faculty corridors without drawing suspicion. Ryn would try to, but then get angry within three minutes, and probably call someone a glossy twig, and... um, who was the other one again—oh! Randel! Yeah, he would most likely apologise to the door before entering and then turn away.'
But me?
I was THE Taron Caelvarin.
Heir to one of the Ten Great Houses.
Now don't get me wrong, that didn't mean I could do whatever I wanted, but it did mean that people hesitated before deciding to stop me.
And sometimes hesitation is all it takes.
I slipped out of the classroom and into the corridor. Professor Anlor was already ahead, walking at an unhurried pace, his long dark hair trailing behind him in uneven layers. He didn't look like a man worried about being followed.
'At least that made one of us.'
I ducked behind a marble pillar.
Then immediately realised that ducking behind a marble pillar in the middle of an open corridor was perhaps not the best form of stealth.
Two second-years passing by stared at me.
I gave them a dignified nod.
They stared even harder.
I stepped out and continued my walk, following Professor Anlor, who had turned left at the end of the corridor.
I waited a few seconds before I continued to follow him.
The next hallway opened toward one of the outer terraces, which wasn't good. Clear sunlight streamed in through the archways, and a row of decorative shrubs lined the path, making everything around it visible.
That was when I made my second tactical decision.
I had to move from shrub to shrub.
Was it necessary?
No.
Was it effective?
Probably not.
Did it make me feel like a covert operative in a thrilling espionage story that you see in theatre plays?
Abso—freaking—lutely.
I crouched behind a neatly trimmed bush shaped like a bird and watched Professor Anlor walk ahead.
A group of students walked past me, noticing my futile attempts at hiding behind a bush.
One of them whispered, "Hey, is that Lord Caelvarin?"
"No, it's not. Now go away," I said from behind the bush.
They hurried away.
'Excellent. My cover remains perfect.'
Unfortunately, Professor Anlor turned again, this time entering a side passage that led deeper into the faculty wing. The Academy's architecture changed subtly there. Less student traffic. Fewer decorative banners. More sealed doors. More quiet.
"I'm gonna need a better disguise for this one," I mumbled.
Five minutes later, I had created what was, without question, one of the worst or best disguises ever made by a living person.
I had acquired a plain grey maintenance cloak from an unattended hook, a pair of round, cracked spectacles from a forgotten desk, and, after several minutes of increasingly questionable improvisation, a thick false moustache that looked as though it had been designed by someone with only a theoretical understanding of facial hair.
I pulled the cloak tighter around myself.
I adjusted the spectacles.
Then I fixed the moustache beneath my nose and stared at my reflection in a polished wall panel.
The result was supposed to resemble an unremarkable maintenance assistant.
Instead, I looked like someone who had assembled a disguise from the contents of a lost-property box and committed to it far beyond reason.
I tilted my head.
The moustache tilted with me.
"Hehehe, perfect."
I continued my covert operation.
This section of the faculty had a corridor that curved inward, away from the sunlight. The floors here were stranger, darker, and more polished, made of black stone that was streaked with thin silver lines. I could smell a faint hint of ink, old books and whatever the professors drank when their students had either annoyed or disappointed them.
I slowed down as soon as I started to hear a voice.
It was Professor Anlor's
This wasn't his teaching self; no, this version of him was angry.
Very angry.
I carefully followed the sound until I came across a partially open door.
Inside, it looked like a private office.
However, it was narrower than expected, with its own sort of cold elegance. There were many shelves along the walls, and charts of Aethren anatomy hung in neat frames. Behind the desk, Professor Anlor sat in a high-backed chair, with one hand wrapped around the neck of a large glass bottle.
I could tell it was alcohol.
It might not have been; I mean, I've never had alcohol before, so I wouldn't be able to know for sure, but there was something about the way he lifted the bottle that made me strongly suspect that it was.
Professor Anlor took a long drink, and then slammed the bottle down on the desk.
"That damned brat," he hissed.
I leaned closer to the doorway.
"How dare he get in my way?"
My stomach tightened.
'He's talking about Kael, isn't he? '
Obviously it had to be Kael.
Then Professor Anlor said something I didn't expect or understand.
"That bastard doesn't even resemble Lira."
'Lira?'
The name meant nothing to me.
'Who the hell is Lira?'
My confusion deepened rather than cleared. Professor Anlor had not said Kael's name, but the anger, the timing, and the phrasing all pointed toward him. Yet why mention someone called Lira? Why would Kael need to resemble anyone Professor Anlor knew?
This whole thing had become stranger.
Stranger than the bet.
Stranger than simple resentment over a Prestige Elective.
I leaned closer, and as I did, a floorboard cracked beneath my shoe.
Very loudly.
'Ah shit.'
I closed my eyes and sighed.
'Good job, Taron. Just brilliant. You just had to mess up, didn't you?'
I could hear Professor Anlor shifting his chair inside, which meant I had a choice to make. Either run away as fast as I could or step inside and pretend that all of this was intentional.
Since option one was undignified and uncool, option two was the only one I could do, despite how stupid it was. So, I began to move toward the door, but before I could take my first step, I felt something pressed against the air behind me.
Not physically, but worse.
It was someone's presence and not Professor Anlor's.
It was warm, heavy, and authoritative enough that my spine instinctively straightened before my brain could understand why.
A voice soon followed it.
"And what might you be doing here, young Caelvarin?"
I turned slowly.
And it was Professor Orin Davan standing behind me.
He wore that same casually dangerous expression he always seemed to wear, as if the world had once tried very hard to impress him and he had found it mildly disappointing. His scar caught the corridor light. His eyes did not.
I smiled.
Badly.
Awkwardly.
"Professor Orin," I said. "What a pleasant and entirely unexpected surprise."
His gaze moved from my face to the spectacles, then to the cap, raising one eyebrow.
"Hm. I see."
"Uhhhhhh. It's not what it looks like."
"It looks like the young heir of House Caelvarin went treasure hunting... in the lost property box."
I looked down.
Then back up.
"... Then it's partially what it looks like?"
"You shouldn't be here," Professor Orin said. "This area is restricted to members of the faculty only."
"Ah! Well, funny you say that actually, you see—"
The office door opened behind me.
Professor Anlor stepped out. His eyes immediately landed on me. Then on Professor Orin, and then back to me.
"Taron? What exactly are you doing here?" Professor Anlor snapped.
I turned slightly between the two professors.
There aren't many moments in my life where my charm had no route to drag me out of a difficult situation.
This was, unfortunately, one of them.
"Me? I was... admiring the corridor? There was something about the polished black tiles and silver lines that made it hard not to follow."
Professor Anlor's face darkened, while Professor Orin tilted his head.
"Oh?" he said. "Is he not here with you, Anlor?"
Professor Anlor blinked.
"No. Also, I told you to call me Professor when we're in front of the students."
Professor Orin's expression remained perfectly mild.
"Hm. Well, if he's not with you, can I take him then? There is something I would like to discuss with him."
Professor Anlor looked as if he wanted to refuse, but I couldn't tell whether it was because he was interested in the reason for me being here or because Professor Orin had just ignored his request to call him 'Professor'.
Regardless, he chose not to refuse.
Despite whatever strange hostility Professor Anlor had toward Kael, it didn't seem powerful enough to make him openly clash with Professor Orin... in a faculty corridor.
"Of course," Professor Anlor said reluctantly.
His eyes returned to me.
They promised consequences.
Lovely.
Professor Orin turned.
"Follow me."
I released a quiet breath.
'That went better than expected.'
Then Professor Orin glanced back.
"Don't look too relieved just yet."
'Uh oh. Spoke too soon.'