Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,82

made, but I had only bad options. Someday I hope you will understand and forgive me.

Whatever happens, I will always love you.

Though I may not be your partner in this life, I will still do what I can for you. In the interest of safety, I won’t name them here, but remember that the two young women you care so deeply for are my good friends. It may be that they can never know why you care, but I will do my best to provide opportunities for you to cultivate their friendship. I am sure that with my recommendation and some time to know you, they will begin to appreciate you almost as much as I do.

The future isn’t all dark. There must always be some light, or the shadows wouldn’t exist either.

Yours Always,

Selene

The letter took him back to the emotions of that day. They had been desperate, and it had felt as though the world was about to collapse on their heads. He had felt much as he did now, and it served as a reminder that perhaps he would get through his current crisis. There was always hope. Little had she known that just a few days after that the two of them would be wed to one another. Or that we’d then be separated for a full year before seeing each other even once.

His vision blurred as he turned the page back to the spell diagram and carefully tried again. This time there were no mistakes. After a year of frustration and seemingly fruitless efforts, the spell came together flawlessly. It sparkled above his hand, the complex collection of runes glowing with turyn as he invested it with power and set the boundaries for its effect.

When he released it, it expanded gradually to encompass the room. A warm, gentle breeze swept over him, removing the dirt and grime from his clothes even as it swept the fresh tears from his cheeks. The spell was far gentler, yet still more thorough than the spells he had been forced to use over the past year. The last time he had felt its effects had been the day that Selene had inscribed the spell for him.

Opening his eyes, he saw that the room was cleaner than ever. The dust was gone, and the bed looked freshly made. His clothes and armor were pristine, and beneath them he felt as fresh as if he had just left the bath. Undressing, he lay down and let his exhaustion sweep him into the realm of dreams. He was sure Selene would be waiting for him there.

Chapter 18

Will slept like the dead, and when he woke, he discovered that although he hadn’t done too much during the fighting, he had still acquired several bruises and a sore back. Probably from when I was jerked backward and landed so hard.

He rose quickly, dressed, and went downstairs where he found Tiny seated in the dining room, an empty plate in front of him. Blake stood by the door to the kitchen. Will glared daggers at his manservant. “You didn’t!”

Blake’s lips twitched, betraying the hint of a smile. “Didn’t what, sir?”

Ignoring him, Will gave Tiny an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to eat that.”

Tiny shrugged, his face unconcerned. “I’ve had worse. You haven’t eaten what the new cook for Company B serves these days.”

Will turned back to Blake. “If he dies, it will be your head,” he pronounced in mock seriousness.

Blake laughed. “I’ll take my chances. It wasn’t that bad. In fact, there’s still some left if you want to try it.”

In the kitchen, Will found a small pot still half full of what might have been oat porridge before it had congealed into a passable substitute for brick mortar. He carried it straight to the back door and began scraping the contents into the scrap bin.

“Hey, that was still good!” protested Blake. “I was going to eat the other half if you didn’t want it.”

Will ignored him, then checked the stove to make sure it was still hot. “I’m making a fresh batch. Pay close attention, and maybe we can avoid poisoning anyone else in