Page 40 of An Arcane Education
“Don't apologize. Magic is difficult, and you're learning everything simultaneously that most practitioners spend years developing gradually.” He stands. “I think our lesson for tonight has been successful. Keep practicing this skill in a safe environment, preferably somewhere outdoors and with small plants, and we’ll work on building new skills through each tutoring session.”
I stand, looking up at him with gratitude. “Thank you so much, Dr. Vale. Seriously. This has already helped so much.”
“It’s no problem. And you can call me Alaric, but only in the context of our tutoring sessions, since I suppose thatishow I initially introduced myself to you.” Playfulness dances in his eyes, and my stomach somersaults. First he makes it clear how professional our interactions must be, and then he tells me to call him by his first name?
“Make sure you eat regularly,” he says before I canrespond to his confusing statement. “And get plenty of sleep. Using magic will take more energy than you’re used to.”
“I will,” I promise as I follow him back through the massive greenhouse toward the main door.
“Vivian?”
He turns to face me, procuring something from his pocket. “A little memento of your first successful night of magic. Grow it into something you’re proud of.” He hands me a leaf from the succulent, one that I’ll be able to propagate in my room and grow into a full plant, and I beam at him.
“Thank you so much. My room could use some greenery.”
“I remember,” he says. “Thank you for your diligent work tonight, Miss Harver. Same time next week.”
CHAPTER 15
The walk back from the greenhouse leaves me with energy I haven't felt since arriving on campus. It’s a lighter sort of satisfaction, as opposed to the manic anxiety that's been my constant companion over the last week and a half. It’s the feeling of accomplishing something difficult that’s been a struggle for weeks, proof that I’m not entirely hopeless after all.
Even the darkness that consumes campus feels less eerie tonight and more comforting.
The residence hall is louder than usual, the common room filled with students talking loudly, having drinks, and playing games. I’m tempted to join them, but despite my lightheartedness, I’m still exhausted from the full day.
When I unlock the door to room 330, Max is there, which dampens my optimistic mood if only slightly. She's sprawled on her bed in an oversized band T-shirt and leggings with a book in hand. She looks up when I enter, her dark red eyes tracking my movement across the room while I ignore her.
I set my bag down at my desk and can't quite suppress the smile that's been trying to surface since I left the greenhouse. The way Alaric had complimented me, the pride I felt when I succeeded at something I’ve been anxious about for weeks. I pull the leaf out of the small pocket of my bag that I’d placed it in and set it on my desk, knowing I’ll need to snag a small pot and some dirt next time I’m in the greenhouse. For now, I place it in a shot glass-sized container that I’d previously been using to hold paperclips.
“What's got you all perky?”
Max's voice cuts through my internal celebration.
I look up from my desk and stay silent for a moment, ready to confront her for the first time since we were forcibly made roommates.
“Do you actually care, or are you just going to use my happiness as another way to ridicule me?” I ask directly. My words don’t come out kindly, but I'm tired of navigating her unwarranted hatred for me.
Max raises an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by my direct question, but to her credit, she doesn’t fire back with a snarky response. Instead, she sighs with frustration, though I wonder if it’s more with herself. “I’mtryingto be friendly,” she says in her typical sardonic tone, as if it’s obvious.
“Are you? Because it’s been pretty clear since I arrived that you'd prefer I didn't exist.”
She sighs again. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m not really good at the whole BFF bonding thing or whatever. Or the whole people thing in general, if we're being honest. But I decided I should probably try. So yes, I am, with good intentions, asking why you’re happy.”
“Wow, uh… okay. Well, cool,” I stutter, surprised by her transparency. “I’m in a good mood because I haven’t been able to use magic without screwing something up until tonight. It’s been stressing me out since I got here.”
“That doesn't surprise me.” She pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged then grabs an almost-full wine glass from her bedside table and takes a sip. “That you were struggling, I mean. Learning magic during your grad program has to be hell. Plus, your emotions are like a shaken champagne bottle with the cork ready to blow.”
I bristle at her statement. I thought I’d been hiding my stress pretty well, although I guess that needs to stop now, to some degree, after my lesson with Alaric. “What makes you say that?”
She tilts her head, studying me with those unsettling eyes. “I'm an empath. I can feel everyone else’s emotions, and they’re difficult to ignore when they’re especially strong. Which yours absolutely are. All that anxiety and guilt and frustration you keep trying to pretend you don’t have is radiating off you in waves. Honestly, it's kind of exhausting for me to be in the same room as you.”
My immediate reaction is to take offense, but I pause a moment to think about it from her perspective. If I’ve been projecting all my stress over the last couple weeks, it absolutely makes sense why she’d be on edge around me. In my mind, I begin to piece together her actions—how standoffish she is toward everyone, the way she avoids crowded spaces whenever I see her, her general irritation with the world. I can’t imagine being bombarded by everyone else’s emotions all the time.
“That must really suck,” I say.
Max looks taken aback, like she'd been bracing for a different response. “What?”
“I’m just saying it must be hard to be an empath, feeling what everyone else is feeling. I don’t even want to deal with myownemotions, let alone everyone else’s.”
