Chapter Twenty-Six

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Monday night's faculty meeting saw Theon still aching from Saturday. His hand shook as he raised his water glass to sip. Morren sat beside him, Ren across from him. That was about as much as he noticed and then only because Ren scowled at him, and Morren reached over to drop something green and gooey into his water glass.

Theon grimaced at the goo, but he picked up his soup spoon and stirred the stuff in, thanking Morren. As far as magic went, the man had little, but he was an excellent gardener and had practice mixing his powdered and dried and mashed plants into things that actually seemed to work. With a little magic infused into the stuff, he could keep such tinctures available indefinitely.

The only issue was that Morren's magic gave everything the consistency of sludge and made it taste how Theon imagined horse piss tasted.

Luk had kept Theon in service until late the night before, announcing right before he left that there was to be no more scotch. No more brandy or wine or moonshine.

Neither of them mentioned the bottle of scotch in Theon's desk.

Ren continued to scowl as Theon drank his horse piss. He made certain to make eye contact over his glass and to not so much as grimace as he downed the entire thing.

A servant stepped forward immediately and refilled his glass with water.

As the first course was served, Ren continued to glare, and Morren glanced sideways at Theon.

"I might suggest a tea," Morren said quietly.

It was the first time any of the faculty spoke to Theon at dinner. At first, he thought Morren was speaking to someone else, then he caught the man facing him out the corner of his eye. Startled, Theon turned to Morren.

"A tea?" Theon asked.

"Yes, a tea," Morren said. "You seem a little pale, the students bring all sorts of sickness from across the land. Something to help boost your immunity. Nothing magic at all, just old honeyed recipes."

"If you would be so kind, I would be ever grateful," Theon said.

"Please, he's hungover, again," Ren said. "Sorry excuse for a war mage."

"Yes, I know," Theon said. "Everyone at this table knew well before you spoke. Thank you."

"You should sober up."

"I said. Thank you. Another topic of conversation, perhaps?"

Theon picked up his glass as he looked over the table at Ren. He felt the shatter effect in the glass, and he dismissed the spell immediately. Ren's face turned scarlet red, but the only people who could have known that Ren tried him were Theon and Ren.

He supposed he would have to come clean with Luk and explain that it wasn't that Ren hadn't used magic in a decade and a half so much as that when he did, and Theon knew of it, Theon dismissed the spells.

Call him petty, but Ren had been the one to block Theon when he entered the university questioning where she was, what his father was doing to her. Ren had known and yet still delayed him.

Such a betrayal was not something Theon would soon forget.

As the pair of them watched each other, Theon with mirth and challenge in his eyes, Ren with burning hatred, the doors flew open. A servant begged someone not to enter because it was a private dinner, but his words apparently fell on deaf ears for in the person marched.

It wasn't until Naena stopped at Ren's side, her hair a mess, her face red and every line of her reading of frustration and anger, that Theon's expression faltered.

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