Chapter 35: She Had Questions

Chapter 35: She Had Questions

Celia sent no warning before she came.

Silas was halfway through a paragraph on mana circulation when the knock interrupted him. He left a finger between the pages, looked toward the door, and briefly considered pretending to be asleep.

"Silas."

He recognized the voice before the body’s memories supplied the expression that usually went with it.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He put the book down and checked that the practice area was clear. The chalk marks beside the wall looked innocuous enough. Everything he preferred visitors not to examine was already put away.

Celia stood in the corridor wearing her academy uniform. Her gaze paused at the fading bruise beside his mouth, then returned to his eyes.

"I need to speak with you," she said.

"You’re doing so."

"In private."

He stepped aside. Celia entered without touching him, and the guest reading appeared before he had closed the door.

[Soul Talent: Severance — A / Unique]

[Temporary Talent Slot occupied — Burst Motion]

Silas held the door handle a moment longer than necessary.

There it was.

He remembered the name from skill descriptions, from arguments about her routes, and from fights where an apparently sound defense failed under her next attack. Severance could disrupt a specific mana connection she perceived. That description had seemed useful enough early in the game. By the time her Talent evolved, he had learned to stop trusting anything merely because it looked well protected.

And she had brought it into his room.

I want that.

Celia turned toward him. "Are you going to close it?"

He shut the door.

He could release Burst Motion. The option was there, and for a few seconds he seriously considered throwing away the remainder of the copy. Then he shifted his weight and felt yesterday’s practice in his calf. He was barely managing a simple movement Talent. An A-Rank Unique ability deserved more preparation than an impulsive exchange because his sister happened to knock.

Still, he resented the timing.

Celia inspected the studio with the discomfort of someone trying not to look as though she was inspecting it. Her attention moved from the cleared desk to the books, then to the chair he occupied for most of his waking life.

Silas pulled out the desk chair for himself and indicated the comfortable one.

"You can sit."

"I won’t be long." Celia remained standing. "How did you learn about the mine?"

"Did Father send you to ask?"

"No."

Silas waited. Celia’s lips tightened.

"I came because I wanted to know," she said. "You could try answering me instead of assuming I’ve been sent."

"All right." He sat down. "What did you tell him?"

"What you said in court. What Gareth agreed to."

"Then he knows as much as he needs from me."

"That wasn’t my question, Silas."

She had brought a slate. He noticed it when she changed hands, revealing a short page of notes. She glanced down at them, apparently decided against consulting them, and set the slate on the desk.

He found that oddly familiar. He had once prepared for meetings with people he expected to be unreasonable, too.

"Who told you?" Celia asked.

"I’m not giving you a name."

"Why?"

"Because I don’t intend to."

Celia looked at him for a moment, then finally took the offered chair. She sat near its edge, keeping her back straight.

You’re missing the best part of it.

He nearly said that aloud. Instead, he moved his notebook so her slate would not cover the question he had written for Kerr.

"Was it someone in Gareth’s household?" she asked.

"I haven’t said that."

"You haven’t said anything."

"I’ve told you what I’m willing to tell you."

She exhaled through her nose and looked toward the window. From this angle, he could see her reflection faintly in the glass, frowning before she turned back with her expression under control again.

"Do you understand what they concealed?" Celia asked. "That isn’t a little extra income. Father is responsible for the territory."

"I’m sure he understands that."

"I’m asking whether you do."

Silas rested an elbow on the desk. He had read enough yesterday to appreciate that a mine involved more than counting metal as it came out of the ground. He also remembered who had happily counted the profit while leaving everyone else ignorant.

"Gareth sold part of it privately," he said. "You’ve told Father. If he wants the accounts, Gareth is the person to ask."

"You knew before any of us."

"Yes."

"And waited until the hearing."

"He was trying to have me expelled." Silas touched the sore place beside his mouth and stopped himself. "I had a reason to be unpleasant."

Celia’s gaze followed the movement.

"I know what he did."

"Then spare me the lecture on being considerate toward him."

"I wasn’t going to give you one." Her answer came quickly enough to surprise him. "I want to know whether there is anything else we should be aware of."

The question was reasonable. That made it harder to dismiss without sounding as though he was hiding several more mines under the bed.

"I’m not sitting here preparing another announcement," Silas said.

"That isn’t the same as saying no."

"It’s the answer you’re getting."

Celia leaned back at last, apparently without noticing. The chair took her weight with a small creak. She looked down at its worn armrest, then at the old desk chair beneath him.

"Have you really been taking equipment commissions?" she asked.

"Someone had to pay for that chair."

She glanced at him sharply, as though trying to decide whether he was making fun of her.

"Evan Mercer needed someone who could hold parts still," Silas said. "I could. He paid me. It wasn’t especially mysterious."

"You could have asked the house."

"For pocket money?" He let her consider that suggestion for a moment. "You’re welcome to explain how well that would have gone."

Celia did not answer immediately. She moved her thumb along a small nick in the armrest, then stopped when she noticed him looking.

"I didn’t know how much you were receiving," she said.

"Well, now you have an idea."

He disliked how close that had come to complaining. She had not come to hear it, and he did not want an argument about which expenses a baron ought to cover for his least welcome child.

Silas picked up her slate and held it out. "Was there anything else?"

Celia took it, but remained seated.

"You’re being deliberately difficult."

"Yes," he said. "You keep asking for something I’m not going to give you."

For a second, she looked young enough that he expected her to call him something unflattering. Instead, she stood and smoothed the front of her uniform with both hands.

"Fine. If what you said creates more questions, I’ll come back."

"Send a message first."

Celia stopped near the door. "So you can refuse?"

"So I can finish what I’m doing."

She looked past him at the open textbook. He could not tell what she made of it.

"Then answer the message," she said.

Silas let her out and waited until her footsteps had passed the next door before closing his own.

He sat in his chair, which was still slightly warm, and reopened the guest reading.

[Severance — A / Unique]

Preferably come back when this slot is empty.

He could put up with questions for that. A few, anyway.

The textbook waited on the desk. Silas brought it over, found his place, and read until he reached the end of the section. Only then did he put it aside to clear the floor for another brief attempt at Burst Motion.