Morgan felt himself blink. Felt more laughter bubble into his throat. He swallowed it, swiftly. That was only one sigil. Two remained that could kill him.

But they didn’t.

It wasn’t until the third and final sigil firmed into permanence that he allowed himself to acknowledge his ruthlessly strangled fear. Shaking like a virgin facing her wedding bed, he felt his legs give way. Felt himself thud to the attic’s floorboards, his vision swimming with tears and relief and triumph.

Luzena. Luzena. I wish you were here.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

It was agony, waiting for a reply from the College of Mages. Not even a second commission from Lady Grie, a natal clock for her aged mother, could ease the churning in her belly.

“Barl, you have to be patient,” Remmie said, sounding impatient himself. “Two weeks isn’t so long. Do you think you’re the only mage in Dorana with a question for the College?”

Elbows braced on the kitchen table, Barl glared. “This isn’t a question, Remmie. This is my life.”

“Your life,” he said, under his breath. “Barl, you have a life already, a good one, and—”

“So you say!” she retorted. “But I decide the quality of my life. If you choose to squander your gifts in some obscure little hamlet schoolhouse, well, that’s your choice. But I won’t make the same mistake and I won’t sit around hoping for scattered crumbs from the great mages’ table. I’m not stupid. I know what they’re doing. They think if they ignore me for long enough I’ll give up and go away. Well, I won’t. Not this time.”

Instead of answering, Remmie took his emptied plate and used cutlery and clattered them into the sink. Then he stood there, head lowered. She’d hurt his feelings, disparaging his precious little school. Disparaging him. Well, she was sorry for that, but she was right. And she was tired of him refusing to admit it.

“You should’ve let me mention you, too,” she said, slumping in her chair. Her sausages and green beans were hardly touched. She wasn’t hungry. “In a pinch they might be able to ignore one exceptional mage, but two? I swear, Remmie, if they turn me down because—because—”

“Because why?” he demanded, turning. “Because I’m content with my life? Because I’m not obsessed with becoming a famous mage?”

“Neither am I obsessed!”

He laughed at her, scornful. “Of course you are. And because I’m not, because I believe in teaching, in helping children who’ll never be great mages, because I don’t care about fame, you think I’m a failure.”

Oh, he was so stubborn. He understood perfectly well what she meant.

“It’s not about fame, Remmie! It’s about making a real difference. I can make a real difference and so can you. Schoolteachers are as common as daisies in a field.”