I expect him to recoil at the idea of releasing any spell for free. The Tourael will come out in him, and he’ll balk.
But he shrugs. “I have no problem with that. Even if we don’t get concrete conclusions by graduation, our research will still make a good stepping stone for others.”
My eyes narrow.
Is he mocking me? But he looks sincere.
I shift toward my desk, scrambling for grip in a brain that suddenlyfeels polished smooth. “Sure. Yeah. Sounds like a plan.” I straighten my already straight laptop. “That’s all light-years away. But my—my project.”
Elethior’s chair squeaks again, and out of the corner of my eye I see him slide down in it. He’s fidgeting with his pen, tapping it on his notebook, his knee bouncing.
“I’m studying a way to cap energy pulled from components during spells rather than a wizard having to rely on their own concentration to ration amounts,” I say too fast. Familiarity cancels out the strain, and my shoulders relax as I fall into something I know. “A safety net thrown over every spell so wizards don’t have to worry about unnecessarily draining components.”
He’s writing something, and he nods. “It’s irritating to always have to allot focus to ensure the correct amount of a component is used.”
I barely restrain an eye roll. “Yeah. Irritating.” I idly scroll as I talk. “I’ve been poking at this idea for months—well, longer, but I fine-tuned it for the grant proposal. The biggest problem I keep running into is that having one rune or equation that could be thrown into a larger spell is complicated, because every spell is too unique, with different components and amounts. I’d have to factor the energy demands ofeverypossible component foreveryspell into the safety net so it’d adjust to whatever’s being used, which would make it massive and impractical.”
“And when you thought we’d be able to get away with working solo”—he peeks up at me with atold you soleer, and my hands clench—“what was the schedule you were aiming for?”
I spin my laptop to show him the calendar I created.
“Research for the first few weeks,” I explain. “Develop at least three different theories. Test those theories. Fine-tune based on the results. Run more tests.” An anticipated sub-step: scream in frustration a lot. “Develop a conclusion and overall analysis, then write it up.”
Elethior rolls his chair closer to my screen. It puts him right next to me, his rich, earthy cologne nebulous in the air.
His thigh touches mine.
Warmth blazes from the base of my neck down to my lower back and I rip my leg away.
He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s studying my calendar, making a few more notes.
“What areyouworking on?” I ask. Damn these silences straight to hell.
Elethior grins at his notebook and kicks my desk so he rolls a few feet away. “The energy between a conjurer and their conjured item. But I have an idea. I’d like you tohearmy idea before you bite my head off. Can you do that?”
My glare flattens. “Lose the condescending tone and yeah, I can.”
“I think we should focus on your project first. We can both tackle research so we—”
“Woah,no way. It’s your turn to tell me what you’re working on. What do you mean, a conjurer and their conjured item?” That’s all Davyeras said at the awards brunch, too, that Elethior was working onthe limitations of the energy connection between a conjurer and their conjured item.
Elethior sighs, stands, and walks his chair back to his desk. The dismissal has me shoving up from my own chair and crossing into his workstation, even though it means kicking his gym bag out of the way.
He squares off toward me like he’s prepared for a fight. “We should start with our combined focus on your project, at least for a week or so. It’ll let us figure out how to work together before we take on too much. Email me the research you did for your grant proposal, will you?”
He scribbles something on a piece of paper, rips it out, and hands it to me before tossing his notebook on his desk.
I take the paper. It’s his email address and cell number.
My back cramps. “Um,youemail me the research you did foryourgrant proposal, and we’ve got a deal.”
He’s perfected the disappointed, exhausted sigh thing. “No.”
I roughly pocket his email. “No?”
“No.As I said,I wanted you to listen to my idea before you take my head off. We should start with your project. We’ll get familiar with working together on it,thenI’ll bring my project into the mix. Yours has merit, and I want us to—”
I black out. One minute, I’m standing a respectable distance away; the next, I’m right against him.
