Page 29 of An Arcane Education
I take a deep breath. Despite the fact that she seems kinder than all of my other professors, I’m still having a difficult time articulating what I need without being embarrassed by my ineptitude.
“I was wondering if you might be available for tutoring or have any recommendations for supplemental materials for this course. I, um, didn’t grow up with magic and only learned about it a month ago, so I’m just a little worried about making sure I can pass this class,” I say in a rush.
She nods along to my rambling with a sympathetic look. “That does make things more difficult. Unfortunately, I’m unable to provide one-on-one tutoring at the time. I teach all of the Introduction to Magic courses, which is a significant number of students, and when I’m not teaching, I have to be at home with my daughter. You’re welcome to visit me in my office hours, though I will have to see other students during them as well. I’ll be happy to bring you a list of supplemental reading materials on Monday, if you’d like.”
“I would definitely appreciate that. Thank you. Do you live off campus then since you have children to take care of?”
She shakes her head. “No, my daughter lives on campus with me. She’s terminally ill, so it’s best for her to be here with me.”
Suddenly, her perpetually tired, somber expressionmakes more sense. I think of Christopher and the constant underlying stress that came with managing his care. I can’t even imagine how much harder it must be to be a caretaker for a child who is terminally ill. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. We have some time left and have been working through it however we can, and we’re lucky to have some great medical doctors that permanently reside here on campus.”
“That’s good to hear, at least.” I stand and swing my bag over my shoulder. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me, and I’d love that list of supplemental reading materials next week if you’re able to get that for me.”
“Of course. And some of the other professors may have the time to tutor you on the basics, so I’d keep asking around if I were you. And, forgive me, but could you tell me your name again?”
“Vivian Harver.”
She cocks her head to the side, examining me. “This might be an odd question, but do you happen to be related to someone named Cameron Langley? He passed away a long time ago, but you bear enough of a resemblance that I can’t help but wonder if he may have been an uncle or something.”
My heart stops. “He was my father. You knew him?”
Professor Showen goes still, pausing a few seconds before answering in a shaky voice. “Yes. I—I didn’t think he had any children.”
“Just me. Did he go to school here?”
She nods, but her face is pale with shock that mirrorshow I’m feeling. My father went to Arcadia. My magic isn’t some aberration; he had it too. Which opens up an entire world of possibilities about my own past that I’ve been ignorant of.
“When—” she starts before taking a deep breath and continuing. “When were you born? What month?”
I tell her my full birthday, confused by the question, and she seems to connect the dots in her mind before muttering, “three months before he died.”
“Yes. I never got the chance to meet him, and he and my mom hadn’t been together for very long before she got pregnant. She doesn’t talk about him much, but… would you be able to tell me anything about him?”
Her shock is colored by something resembling concern. Fear, almost, laced with sadness.
“He was a kind man who loved to have fun. He was the life of the party, but he always managed to pass his classes.” She shakes her head, as if clearing her thoughts, and stands suddenly, glancing at her watch. “But it’s been so long. Memory is a fickle thing. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for my next class. I’ll see you on Monday, Vivian.”
She rushes out the door, and I’m left standing in the empty classroom with a strange mix of confusion, concern, and hope warring inside me.
What was that all about?
My mind won’t stop reeling all throughout my next class, and when Callista flounces over to me to give me a handwritten note with the party information on it, all I can do is impassively thank her.
In my afternoon gap between classes, I don’t head forthe dining hall. Being around a massive crowd of people is the last thing I want to do right now when this new information is whirling through my head like a tornado.
Instead, I let my legs lead me and find myself drawn to the edge of campus where there’s a small path leading into the forest with wooden handrails on either side and a small sign indicating the start of the mile-long path. Moments after stepping across the treeline, my body relaxes slightly. It’s only now that I realize the true reason why being in nature has always been so calming for me. I’ve had nature magic running through my veins forever and simply didn’t know it.
Here, the feeling is amplified beneath the canopy of ancient trees. The ground is carpeted with accumulated needles and leaves, and ferns wave in the gentle breeze that chills the air. Moss climbs the tree trunks in thick, vibrant pelts from the constant moisture of the island.
The scent of pine and damp earth envelops me as I make my way deeper into the forest, working through my thoughts.
Professor Showen knew my father, but something about me being his daughter, about my age, worried or scared her enough for her to be evasive and rush out of the room.
But why?
And if she knew him, chances are that multiple other professors here knew him too. It seems to be a tight-knit, insular community, which means I can look into this further and ask others about him—hopefully people who are less freaked out by the fact that I’m his daughter.
