Page 61 of The Last Remaining Light

“Lady Elowynn Selvicta,” called an intimidating, male voice.

Pulled from her thoughts, Elowynn lifted her crystalline gaze to find an older scholar approaching across the bridge. He wore layered sapphire robes embroidered with golden observatory sigils. His silver-threaded hair was cut in the shorter style favored in the city, though a few longer strands had escaped to frame his forehead and temples.

But it was his keen gray eyes that caught her attention. They studied her with unmistakable interest.

Lora immediately straightened beside her.

“Master Vaelor,” she greeted with a respectful bow of her head and the subtle crossing of two fingers against her collarbone—an old Astrari gesture of formal regard.

Ah. Important then. Elowynn followed suit.

The older Astrari inclined his head politely toward Lora before turning to offer the customary greeting to Elowynn.

“Your arrival has generated considerable discussion within the archive towers, my lady.”

Another conversation about her. Another curious gaze. The attention was becoming exhausting.

“How encouraging,” Elowynn replied with a bland tone. “I hope nothing too negative, Master Vaelor.”

She could feel Lora staring wide-eyed at her with her blatant sarcasm. To her surprise, amusement flickered briefly across Vaelor’s face.

“House Selvicta once maintained close ties to the Auric Conclave before Astermere’s fall. Many scholars believed your bloodline was lost entirely during the northern collapse.”

An odd sort of chill passed through Elowynn and crawled up her spine. The wording felt premeditated or calculated. Political.

She despised him already.

“I assure you,” Elowynn said, her tone even, “reports of my death were rather… premature.”

Lora made a strangled sound beside her, but Elowynn refused to look at her.

Master Vaelor’s mouth twitched into a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

“You possess your father’s composure,” he observed with astuteness.

The statement startled her enough that she almost reacted. Fortunately, she kept a practiced composure.

“You knew my father?”

“Lord Alaric Selvicta,” he replied, not quite answering the question. His expression darkened briefly. “Astermere was respected within the Conclave. Particularly among those who believed the aethercurrents should be understood before altered.”

The Collegium again. Even here, beneath the guise of polite conversation, the divide remained present.

Vaelor studied her for another moment before giving a dismissive sniff. The Astrari carried superiority the way lesser nobles carried perfume.

“You will likely find yourself drawn naturally toward the Conclave’s archives.” His gaze moved briefly toward the imposing observatory towers rising above them. “House Selvicta always valued history over ambition.”

A stinging sensation flared inside Elowynn. History over ambition. The implication irritated her. As though the Conclave alone possessed wisdom while the Collegium chased recklessness like children playing with unstable fire. As though he had already decided who she would become before allowing her the dignity of choosing for herself.

The indignation surprised her with its intensity because moments earlier, the Conclave had felt right.

Now?

Now part of her wanted to march directly into the Collegium halls purely out of spite.

Unfortunately, Vaelor noticed the subtle change in her expression.

Of dimming, course he did.