It only takes remembering the way I rage-broke Elethior’s protection ward last night to know that I fully deserve the repercussions for being such a stubborn, antagonistic pain in the ass. Why did I think I could show up with any game plan that’d appease the committee if that plan basically told their intentions to fuck off? Yeah, he’s a Tourael. Yeah, I hate him. Butgods,I’ll hate not doing this project more.
I sink deeper into my puffer coat and jog up the steps.
Inside, the foyer is dim and cozy and warm, paneled in dark wood, with a mostly full rack of coats off to the side. I hang mine and duck through another set of doors.
This reception room is definitely nicer than the banquet hall where the grant award ceremony happened. Two chandeliers give off soft light against more of that dark wood paneling while dozens of dancing globes glitter across the ceiling; an easy enough enchantment that most kids figure out, but it creates a nice effect of glitz and glamour. There’s a bar against the far wall and a fireplace to the left heating the already warm air. Guests push in around high-top tables, drinking and chatting and nibbling on finger food.
Davyeras is by the fireplace with a few committee members.Thompson is here, along with the conjuration professor who sponsored Elethior, as well as faculty of both departments. But the majority are people I don’t recognize, dressed the nicest by a long way in evening gowns and pricey suits, clearly not clinging to a university salary. Donors and board members, then.
I suddenly feel even more the status symbol of my Target white button-up and clearance black pants, and I let Orok talk me into a dark blue tie with snowflakes on it. At least I have my travel pack of spell components in my pocket and didn’t wear my full belt; no one else here has any noticeable harnesses.
My eyes ping to each face, looking for—
Elethior’s at the bar.
“Mr. Walsh!”
Before I can muster up the courage to cross the room, Davyeras crowds in on me and extends his hand.
I smile mechanically and shake it. “Doctor.”
“Glad you got here.” He slaps my shoulder as a way to steer me toward the fireplace.
I look back at the bar, where Elethior’s talking with a tall blonde elven woman who reeks of money so strongly my nose tingles from here. “I should get a drink before—”
“In a moment, in a moment.” Davyeras stops us in a group, half of which are committee members, half who must be donors. “I want to introduce you to a few people first.”
My lips fight a hard battle to stay smiling, not grimacing.
Davyeras names off those in the group before gesturing to me. “And Sebastian Walsh here is one of the recipients of the Mageus Research Grant.”
A woman with gray hair pulled back in a severe chignon puckers her lips in interest. “How has your first week gone?”
The group pins their eyes on me.
Right into the fire we go, then.
I resist looking over my shoulder for Elethior. “Ah. Well… have you spoken to—Mr.Tourael this evening? I wouldn’t want to repeat him.”Or incriminate myself.
“We’ve not had the pleasure yet,” the woman says. “I admit, restructuring the grant was viewed as unnecessary by some, but I do hope to see stimulating results.”
“Mr. Tourael and I are definitely”—I think of shattering the protection ward around his desk—“breaking down barriers.”
“And what plans have you developed to explore the overlap of your two fields in spell energy limitations?” Davyeras asks. “Evocation and conjuration are famously at odds.”
The group chuckles cordially.
“Yeah. At odds. Um… we’re solidifying our projects individually before we begin seeing how they overlap.” There. That’s not a lie, but it sounds okay, right?
The group quiets. A few eye one another.
Davyeras clears his throat. “You mean, you are working separately?”
Unease wends in my stomach. “We’ve been firming up our own projects, so when we come together, we have a better understanding of all the pieces.”
The woman who asked the initial question sips her drink. “Hm” is all she says.
Davyeras laughs. It’s forced. “Well, we can hardly expect breakthroughs after only a few days, can we? Mr. Walsh, let’s get you a drink. We’ll discuss more later.”
