Alaric and Rowan waited behind as a novice escorted Lysander and Nicasi to the guest houses so they could rest. Rowan wondered if Alaric would finally accuse him of hiding something now that they were alone.
Their Master made them wait in silence for a few moments before he spoke again.
"Caretaker, you have brought shame to the True Core, to the Order, and to me. How many times have I told you to know your place? Do you not understand by now how dangerous your ability is? It lives in the space between Order and Disorder, and I swear before the gods, I will root it firmly in this realm. For the good of this reality."
Ciprian never raised his voice. The head of the Order would never stoop so low. But cold fury stirred behind shuttered eyes.
"I took a risk by claiming responsibility for you, and this is how you repay me. By touching an innocent child. What would have happened if her mother hadn't stopped you?"
Rowan stared straight ahead. "I didn't…I was helping them. My magic is not ugly."
But his touch was. He worked hand in hand with death, one of the great agents of Disorder. According to Ciprian, his magic was tainted, unlike the pure spirit the members of the Order wielded to protect reality from the Disorder on the other side of the curtain. His touch was not clean, so neither was he. That much was undeniable.
"Silence. Alaric, punish him."
Alaric tensed. Rowan knew this was coming, but he never expected Ciprian to tell Alaric to be the one to do it.
"Did you not tell me yesterday that you will be honored to take my place if the day ever comes? Take responsibility."
Alaric bowed his head. "Master, please forgive me for speaking out of line, but look at him. He's clearly been through enough. You didn't see his face when he finished the task. I think—"
"Do it, or I will know all your vows to me have been in vain."
Rowan tacked an encouraging smile on his face. He hadn't expected Alaric to dare to speak up for him, even if Ciprian wouldn't hear it. "I feel fine. Do what you need to do. I understand the situation."
He understood now that Ciprian knew exactly what each of them wanted in life, and knew how to hold it over their heads like an unattainable lure. Alaric had always wanted Ciprian's approval. Even as a boy he'd fought like cornered animal for it. Rowan wanted…his sisters.
Seemed Ciprian knew exactly how to control his own game, when to dangle the lure and when to rip it away. He just never realized Alaric was still being forced to play.
Alaric faced Rowan. His mouth was set in a grim line. His eyes had gone cold. He raised his hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Rowan waited. Ciprian sat silent as ice on the dais.
Alaric flicked his hand, splaying his fingers and extending his arm in one swift motion. A thin scourge of concentrated energy burst forth from each finger. It flashed in crackling streaks of blue-white lightning to whip Rowan across the torso. The magic ripped through his shirt and seared his flesh.
Rowan swallowed his cry of pain, refusing to give Ciprian the pleasure.
He'd gone to that other place in his mind, the one that was neither here nor there, filled with flowers and the sound of his own voice singing. He didn't look down to see what the magic had done to his flesh, but he could feel that Alaric had intentionally avoided lashing his locket.
It was a magical object, infused with energy to protect it from damage, but with a display of control truly befitting the most powerful Adept after Ciprian, Alaric had delivered the blow around it anyway. Rowan knew it was foolish to wonder if it was done out of respect.
Alaric turned and bowed to Ciprian.
"Yes. That will do. Not a single drop of blood. I am truly impressed." Ciprian smiled. "Now you kneel beside him."
Alaric stiffened, but then bowed again before taking his place on his knees beside Rowan. "I have disappointed you."
"Yes. You hesitated. You must never hesitate. Obviously you have much to learn." Ciprian's eyes held genuine sadness as he descended the dais. "The dangers of flirting with Disorder can never be tolerated. It is my duty…*our* duty to keep this world safe, anchored in reality and order."
A gasp came from behind the dais, from the darkened hall that lead to Ciprian's private entrance. Ciprian looked over his shoulder, and Alaric let out a sound of dismay.
Loma, Ciprian's only child, ran out from the hall. Her brown eyes were wide with shock as she took in the scene of the two men who doted on her more than any brother ever could kneeling on the cold floor. One was in tatters on the outside, the other about to unravel. She was barefoot, in her nightdress and robe, her long honey-colored hair unbound over her shoulders.
If Rowan knew how to smile a real smile, he would have done so. He was that happy to see her despite his current physical misery.
"Papa…what are you doing. You can't do this." She threw herself in front of Ciprian.
Instantly he softened. His voice was gentle, every last trace of ice melted by the presence of his daughter. "Why are you awake? You shouldn't be here. This is an official matter. Why don't you go back to bed and rest? You're still not fully recovered from your cough."
Rowan's heart squeezed upon hearing the Loma had been ill. Again.
If it wasn't a cough, it was dizziness. Fainting spells were as routine for her as the phases of the moon. The Branch of Strength was bursting with healers, but not a one could give Loma more than temporary relief. She'd inherited none of her father's spiritual power, and her physical constitution was weak.
"I hate when you fret over me. I'm fine." She reached up to touch her father's cheek with a slender hand. "But look what you've done to Rowan. You sent him to help the Order, did he not do as he was told?"
Ciprian sighed. "He defiled an innocent with his touch. Willingly or not, he allowed it to happen. There must be consequences…you know that, my dove."
"He looks like he's almost dead. How could you? And now you want to punish Alaric, for what? Hesitating? What about compassion?"
"You don't understand what this is about. It's my duty to mold them both." Ciprian gently pushed Loma aside. "Go back to bed and leave this to me. Don't question me."
"But Papa—"
"No. I said to go back to bed." His command was gentle, but it was still a command.
Loma closed her mouth on her argument and cast tear-filled eyes first at Rowan, then at Alaric. Her gaze lingered on the latter for several heartbeats.
"Listen to Master Ciprian. I don't need you pleading my case." Alaric spoke through gritted teeth.
Loma's shoulders fell. "You are all impossible. I'll go, but I am not going back to bed."
When Ciprian was certain she was gone, he turned back to Alaric, and without another word unleashed a series of energetic blows on his chest and face. Whereas Alaric preferred to wield his magic like a whip, Ciprian preferred to shape his more like a rod.
Alaric absorbed the blows without flinching. Rowan stole a look at him out of the corner of his eye to see that his lip had split open, and blood flowed freely from his nose.
Ciprian turned on his heel and left them there. How many times had they knelt side by side as boys, suffering joint punishment for something one or the other had done? After the death magic had awoken in him, it was only ever Rowan kneeling there. This felt like a strange kind of homecoming.
"Alaric…" Rowan sat back on his heels.
Alaric silently stood and walked out. The door slammed behind him.
Rowan sat there for a bit, fingers toying with the locket through one of the new rips on his favorite shirt. Alaric hadn't said a word to Ciprian about him hiding something, yet he could feel the accusation as clearly as if Alaric had spoken it out loud.
When his clothes had turned from hopelessly wet to uncomfortably damp, he got up and went to collect his basket from where he hid it by the stables. Not only had the clouds cleared, but he was delighted to discover that the basket had been covered by the the overhang of the stable's roof, so it was completely dry. By now the midnight black of the sky had begun to bleed out to the pale purple that announced the approach of dawn.
His bones ached and his muscles felt like they had been wound tight with barbed wire, but he would make the walk home. If he left now, he should get there before sunrise.
He cut between the compound's inner buildings, passing behind the library, the training hall, and the lecture room. He knew where Alaric lived, in a small private dwelling adjacent to Ciprian's own rooms. Light shone from under Alaric's door and cut through the slits in the closed shutters on the windows.
Rowan knocked on the door and tried the doorknob at the same time, just as he used to do when they were children and he wanted to catch Mister Perfect in the middle of something.
It usually never turned out in Rowan's favor, but this time…this time Mister Perfect most certainly was in the middle of something. There he was, standing in the center of the single room, Loma in his arms and her robe on the ground. Her gauzy nightdress hung askew, revealing the curve of her shoulder.
Alaric released her and jumped back when Rowan opened the door, but not before Rowan had seen the look of passion blazing in his eyes. The loveliest shade of rose stained Loma's cheeks, and her lips were swollen. She snatched her robe from the floor and hurried to put it on, turning away from Rowan in embarrassment.
Rowan had been forced to take vows of celibacy because of his impurities, but celibacy was not a requirement for the general adherent. However, staying away from the Master's daughter was an unspoken rule.
Judging by the look on Alaric's face as he locked eyes with Rowan across the room, the rule even applied to the Master's favorite.
Rowan closed the door and started home, leaving his childhood friends to their danger. Looked like he and Alaric both had something to hide.