was just that in the end it came down to seeing hundreds or maybe even thousands of Naries killed or jumping into the fray ourselves.”
Emeric hummed in a slightly skeptical sound, and I rapped my elbow against his. “I’m serious. You know, Rory didn’t even attack her own mother, even though the woman put her through enough shit that most people would have wanted to. I saw it happen. Her mom threw some awful spell at her trying to kill her, and Rory just… deflected it back. Technically, the old Baron Bloodstone killed herself.”
Emeric’s eyes snapped to me with a trace of surprise. “You saw that?”
“Yeah, I was just a few feet away from her. Hell, her mom’s spell might have killed me too.” I let out a rough laugh. “I guess they don’t tell that part of the story when the reapers get together to complain.”
He let out a short laugh of his own. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t. Well, that’s all the more reason to celebrate the scions’ heroics.”
He really was hung up on this whole hero thing, wasn’t he? But then, how could I blame him when I’d spent the better part of the last two years grappling with my own less-than-heroic status? At least I’d been on the winning side. Why wouldn’t he harbor some insecurities about his role in supporting the former barons?
We’d reached a street paved with cobblestones, old-fashioned brick buildings lining both sides. Cheerful voices rang out around us; this was obviously a popular night spot. I didn’t entirely mind that our conversation lapsed as Emeric led the way through the throng to a bistro pub halfway down the block.
Once we were settled in at a table by the front windows, a candle lighting Emeric’s face with a wavering glow, I asked him about growing up in this city. “It’s hard for me to imagine…” I said. “Until I started at Blood U, I was pretty isolated, mostly seeing my family and their friends at our or their houses.” The grand fearmancer families preferred sprawling, imposing estates over urban living, and when we’d traveled to various international cities, I’d been there as a tourist, not a local.
“Portland might not be big, but it’s a pretty great place,” Emeric said, leaning back in his chair. “Plenty to do but tame enough that I never needed to worry about my safety roaming around even before I came into my magic. And I like being near the water.” A smile crossed his lips that was softer than the ones before. “It’s one of my favorite materials to work with—so easy to sculpt. Maybe that sounds silly when it also falls apart as soon as you let go of the magic.”
A twinge of shared understanding fluttered in my chest. “Not silly at all. You’re talking to an illusion specialist here. Nothing I make will ever stick around.” My gaze drifted to the window. “We went to this mage art gallery in London when I was thirteen—it was all based around illusion. Part of the point was that you never knew how long any given display was going to last—whether you might be the last person to see it. There was something so… gut-wrenching but also beautiful about that idea.”
Emeric’s voice came out soft too. “That makes sense. I’d love to see that gallery.”
“Well, maybe one day there’ll be one closer to home.” I fiddled with my napkin. “Sometimes I think about starting one here. I’m not sure I could manage it now, since it’d be a huge investment, and I can’t draw on my family’s wealth anymore, but if I can make it happen… We’ll see.”
Over the meal, we chatted more about our childhoods, our younger siblings, our various minor adventures—sticking to the positive, not treading into the shadows that lurked around nearly every fearmancer’s early life. Being a kid and easily frightened in a society where all the adults fed off fear wasn’t a great combination. But growing up that way you also became very good at talking around uncomfortable subjects. I got the impression Emeric had at least as much practice in that area as I did.
When we’d finished eating—and received a bill that thankfully didn’t make me fear for his bank account—I followed Emeric down a winding alley to the back door of one of those tall brick buildings where the rear windows were all dark. The tang of sea salt laced the air stronger than it had in the park. Emeric murmured a