“And I’m going to keep ignoring that in favor of more exciting excursions,” I informed her. “You’re going to give poor Bluebell an inferiority complex.”
She laughed as we stopped walking, having arrived at her studio.
“Goodnight, Kieran.”
“Sweet dreams, Little Conduit.”
As I walked back to my townhouse that night, it was the first time in a long time that I didn’t feel the need to go searching for some sort of distraction to get out of my head.
My mind was quiet.
It was a temporary balm, I knew. A fleeting comfort, one that I didn’t dare let myself grow accustomed to.
But it was a comfort, nonetheless.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Arken
The remainder of my first quarter at the Arcane Studium had passed by rather uneventfully, leaving me restless and bored.
I spent most of my free time with Kieran these days, but work had been keeping him busy as of late. New investigations seemed to crop up constantly, leaving very little free time for our adventures, though we snuck them in where we could. In lieu of his company this week, I had taken to studying and practicing my arcana with refreshed fervor.
For the last several days, I had spent every spare hour holed up in my studio, attempting to apply all my learnings with Light to the other elements, the ones I kept hidden. It was admittedly exhausting. Tonight in particular, I had worn myself to the bone, yawning and stretching as I padded around the kitchen in searchof a certain tea blend, one that Amma used to make for me after long days of foraging in the forest. My muscles were a bit sore.
Arcana seemed to take its toll on the body, which was hardly surprising. I’d been at this for hours, practicing the incantations and gestures, poring over tomes. I was just about to draw myself a hot bath and get ready for bed when I heard a few urgent, desperate-sounding knocks against my front door.
“Arken?” A frantic, muffled voice called through. “Ark, are you home?”
That sounded like…Laurel?
I quickly rushed over to the door, wrapping my robe around my otherwise naked body as I dashed across the room.
“Laurel,” I said as I opened the door to the tearful face of a friend. “Are you okay?”
She immediately burst into tears and I tugged at her arm, pulling her inside.
“I’m—hic—I’m so sorry to barge in like this, there’s just, I don’t know who else—I just,” she said in between small, hiccuping sobs.
“Hey, shh. It’s alright, it’s no trouble. C’mere, Laur,” I said, wrapping my arms around her, fearing for the worst as she shuddered against my chest. “Take your time. We can talk when you’re ready.”
Fifteen minutes and several warm cups of tea later, Laurel began to explain what happened.
“I got a letter from Lord Ymir today, on behalf of my parents. They were apparently too indisposed to—well, it doesn’t matter. My little brother is gone. Stolen. Amir was justtakenfrom the streets of Yvestra, and he’s just disappeared without a trace. Apparently, he’s been gone for weeks.Weeks, Arken! And nobody told me until now!”
“Oh my gods,” I breathed.
“Lord Ymir apologized on their behalf but I’m still so furious with my parents. How could they not take two godsdamned minutes to send a sprite? The only reason Ymir is reaching out is because there have apparently been similar disappearances elsewhere, and he wanted me warned, in case our family is a general target. They might even assign me a personal guard.What in the Hel is happening?”
“And they still have no idea where he is? Or who was involved?”
“No,” she sniffed. “I guess our nanny had her head turned for a fraction of a second. He couldn’t have just wandered off, they were in the middle of the markets and he wouldn’t have gotten very far. Somebody had to have taken him, but there hasn’t been a ransom or anything.”
My heart sank.
Without a ransom, it seemed more likely that Amir had been stolen by people who intended tokeephim. The Ansari family wasverywealthy andverywell-connected, so if the culprits had demands, surely they would have made them by now.
I prayed that the Fates would be kind, and that Amir would be found soon. While I had no true siblings of my own, I could still empathize. The other children of the Brindlewoods were still so dear to me, and I thought of them often.