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Chapter Text

Gale looked around his new office, piled high with cardboard boxes and smelling strongly of dust and neglect, and felt his last scraps of optimism leak out of him.

This is it, then. This is where my career goes to die.

With a thump, he sat down on his new office chair—which squeaked loudly and then tilted over to one side as one of its wheels popped out and skidded into a corner. He felt his shoulders slump. That seems appropriate, somehow. 

“Well. You’ll need a new chair, of course.” Tara, Gale’s tressym, said briskly, looking around the office with thoughtful eyes. She leapt up onto the desk and sniffed it skeptically, dragging her paw through the grime on its surface. “And the place needs a good cleaning. But it’s quite a nice view. Pretty trees and even a pond in the distance.”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better about this, Tara,” Gale sighed, running a hand through his hair. I should have had it cut before I started here. Not that it truly matters, I suppose.

He glanced over at the chalkboard the previous occupant had mounted to the office wall. There were doodles on it, likely from a student, and a few words that might have been the beginnings of a shopping list. With a sigh, he walked over and wiped the markings clean with the eraser. The chalk clung to his fingers, and he brushed his hands together, raising a little cloud of shimmering white dust in the late afternoon light. The dust also floated up into his nose. He avoided sneezing. Barely.

Gods. A year ago Gale had been part of the University of Waterdeep’s storied wizardry department. Now he was in this decrepit little office at Baldur’s Gate University after ruining both his career and a fifteen-year relationship. 

He wasn’t sure if he was here to start over, or to give up.

Start over, he told himself firmly. He’d spent the better part of last year lying in bed, staring at the walls and wondering how he’d managed to make such a wreckage of his life. He was not going to go back to wallowing, no matter how shabby his new office was. No matter how much it hurt to remember his old one.

As he looked around the office, wondering where he could possibly start with making it habitable, a buzz from his pocket distracted him. He briefly considered letting it go to voicemail, but he knew his mother would only call back. And he knew it was his mother; realistically, there was no one else who would be calling him. With a silent sigh, he flicked his thumb across the screen and lifted the device to his ear.

“Hello, Mother!” he said, forcing false cheer into his voice. “What can I do for you?”

“Just checking to see how you’re settling in, darling.” Morena Dekarios’s brisk voice crackled slightly over the line, fading out for a moment before popping back into audible range. Gale bit back a sigh. My office has bad reception as well. Terrific. 

“You mentioned you would get your department keys today. How is it?”

“It’s splendid.” He immediately felt a stab of remorse; he hated lying to his mother. He tried to amend it with something closer to the truth. “Perhaps a bit bare at the moment. When I get my books onto their shelves it will look much better.” 

He prayed she wouldn’t ask about his apartment. It was actually a nice little space, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to unpack anything besides his kitchen equipment; everything else still sat in boxes. It was a far cry from the beautifully decorated townhouse he’d left behind in Waterdeep.

A notification pinged on his phone—a calendar alert. Gale pulled the phone from his ear to look at it. New Faculty Reception, 4pm. Relief coursed through him at the ready-made excuse. He loved his mother, but he knew that his frame of mind at the moment would not be conducive to reassuring her that things were going well.

“Mother? I’m so sorry, but I just remembered something. I’m supposed to go to a new faculty event in ten minutes. Could I call you later?”

“Of course, darling,” she assured him. “Let me know if you need anything for your new place, won’t you? New curtains, a rug or two, maybe some custom bookshelves…”

Gale laughed. “Mother, I’m a tenured professor on the far side of forty. I can buy my own furniture, I assure you.”

“I know you can,” Morena said with a little laugh. “But can’t a mother spoil her only child every now and then, regardless of age?”

Gale smiled fondly. “I’ll let you know if anything catches my eye, I promise. Love you.”

“Love you too.” With a click, Morena disconnected the call.

Gale put the phone back into his pocket and drew a deep breath. “All right, Tara. Where should we start? With some dusting, I suppose.”

“Mr. Dekarios! What about the new faculty mixer? You told your mother you were going.” Tara gave him a reproachful look.

“Oh gods, Tara, please no. I don’t want to…”

“Don’t want to do what?” Tara interrupted impatiently. “Learn more about your new place of employment? Speak with the people who are going to be your colleagues? Make even a hint of an effort at meeting some new friends? You could use more friends, Mr. Dekarios. Your mother and I are quite agreed on that point.”

Gale gaped at her for a moment, then sighed. “If I don’t go, you’re going to tell my mother, aren’t you.”

Tara licked her side innocently.

“Gods, the two of you are a menace when you want to be,” Gale sighed. “Very well. I’ll go drink bad wine in a dingy room if it will make you happy.”

Tara looked up at him smugly. “It will. Now shoo. The dust will still be here tomorrow.”

The space where the reception was being held was nicer than Gale had expected, a cozy room in the student union with dark blue wallpaper and gray wingback chairs placed in pairs and triads around elegant dark wood coffee tables. The room was already half-full, and he half expected his arrival to chill the buzz of conversation—he’d silenced more than a few rooms he walked into back in Waterdeep—but to his relief, no one seemed to be paying him any mind. 

The bartender poured him a glass of inexpensive red wine in a plastic cup and Gale accepted it without comment. As he turned away from the bar he looked around the room, wondering who he should talk to. His old mentor Elminster, the reason he had this job in the first place, was chatting with a human man with long red hair. Gale recognized him immediately: Lorroakan Athkatla, who had started his PhD at Waterdeep around the same time Gale finished. They had only overlapped for a bit, but Gale did not have fond memories of the man. 

Perhaps I’ll say hello to Elminster later.

To hide his nerves about approaching a stranger for a chat, Gale reached for the phone in his pocket, pretending he’d just received a notification. His stomach fell when he saw that he did, in fact, have an alert on his lock screen: A recent news item about Mystra Ryll.

I need to turn that news alert off.

But he could no more stop himself from looking at it than he could stop himself from grimacing at the syrupy taste of the cheap wine.

It was a puff piece in the Waterdeep Weekly with the headline “Museum of Magical Antiquities taps Ryll as Head Curator.” Gale felt his breath leave his chest. He and Mystra had dreamed of going to that museum together, had imagined their future with Mystra as Head Curator and Gale as her right-hand man. Now she was there without him, and he hadn’t even known she’d gotten the job. Gods. Was he so far out of her grace that he didn’t even merit inclusion on an email announcing her new position?

The article began with a very flattering photo of Mystra giving a public lecture, gesturing with her laser pointer in hand, that familiar cool smile on her face. She was wearing a new suit, a trim gray skirt with matching blazer, and her hair and makeup were flawless. She did not look like someone who’d just been through a brutal breakup. Or, more specifically, she didn’t look anything like Gale, who was wearing a purple button-down shirt that was missing two buttons from its cuffs and last year’s pair of glasses.

“I will never understand why you wizardry experts are so fascinated with that woman.”

Startled, Gale looked up. A half-Drow woman in a sharply tailored blue blouse and black slacks was looking over at him, an amused expression on her face as she took in the photo on his screen. Carefully groomed white curls fell around her shoulders and a coppery mask of scales covered her forehead and cheekbones, marking her as the descendent of a draconic bloodline. Though her clothing was not flashy, there was an elegance and polish about her that briefly made Gale even more self-conscious about his fraying shirt.

Mortified, he tucked the phone away. “Well, she is one of the greatest minds of her generation,” he said a bit defensively.

“Hmm. Maybe. But the quality of her papers seems to depend heavily on her coauthors,” the woman said dryly. “Then again, what do I know, I’m in Sorcery.”

Gale chuckled. The disciplinary rivalry between Wizardry and Sorcery was long and storied. In Gale’s opinion, sorcerers ignored the theoretical fundamentals in favor of flashy new spells; sorcerers usually retorted that wizards only cared about studying magic, not actually doing it. “My goodness. Sorcerers read papers these days?” he said, trying a bit of light teasing in reply.

The woman smiled—a genuine smile, one that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “It’s a recent development. I just learned to read over the summer.” She stuck her hand out. “Alys Towerfell.”

Ah. Here it comes. Gale took the hand and shook it. “Gale Dekarios.”

Alys’s brow wrinkled a bit as she tried to place the name. Gale held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Alys’s potential moment of realization was interrupted by the arrival of a most unwelcome third party.

“Ah, there you are, Dekarios. I was wondering if you’d show up.”

With barely a glance over at Alys, Lorroakan planted himself in between the two of them, his expression predatory. He smiled at Gale with the air of a man who was looking at all of his fondest wishes come to life. “Must feel like quite the fall from grace,” he said with mock sympathy. “From the gleaming halls of Waterdeep to the shabby corridors of Baldur’s Gate University.”

“Oh come now, that’s hardly a generous way to talk about the institution that signs your paychecks, Lorroakan,” Gale said mildly, concealing his irritation. He’d said worse things about BGU to Tara over the past few days, of course, but hearing the words from Lorroakan’s mouth made him feel oddly indignant.

“It’s temporary, I assure you. My career is on the upswing. And yours… well, I suppose it’s not polite to talk about yours.” Lorroakan chuckled unpleasantly. “I look forward to seeing what you can come up with on your own now that Mystra’s discarded you. Not that I expect much but it will be fun to see you try.” 

“Wait. You’re Lorroakan Athkatla?” Alys asked from behind him, her tone calm but pointed. “Goodness. I assumed they’d put you on leave after that retraction in the Journal of Wizarding Studies.”

Lorroakan’s entire body went stock still as the color drained from his face. “I am appealing that retraction,” he said indignantly, spinning around to glare at Alys.

“I can’t imagine why. It’s clear the paper was deeply flawed. Surely it would be better to admit your mistake.” Alys sipped her wine, her expression cool and unruffled.

“My graduate student flubbed a perfectly simple task, ruining months of work. It’s no reflection on… gods, why am I even explaining this to a sorcerer?” he sneered, taking in the coppery scales around Alys’s eyes. “Enjoy the mixer. I have actual work to do.” 

And with that he stormed off, his red hair flowing behind him as he sped from the room.

Gale let out a relieved breath. “You actually got rid of him. Thank you. I’d buy you a drink if they weren’t free.”

Too late, he realized that buy you a drink had a flirtatious meaning as well. Not that his new colleague wasn’t attractive—she was, objectively, a stunning woman—but that had not been his intent. He was in no shape to be flirting with anyone, not while he was living in a pile of cardboard boxes and didn’t even have a proper office chair to sit on.

Alys met his eyes, her expression serious. “I’m sorry for what I said about your coauthor,” she said frankly. “I didn’t realize—well. It was impolitic of me and I apologize.”

“She is, more accurately, my ex-coauthor,” Gale said, trying to conceal the mix of emotions swirling through him. “No offense taken, I assure you.” He tried to fumble for something resembling a normal conversation. “Are you starting here this semester as well? Or are you an old hand who showed up to greet the newcomers?”

“The former,” she said, smiling slightly. “I just came here from Sword Coast State. Lovely place but a bit remote. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to move back to a city. Tell me, what are you working on?”

“Netherese magic,” he said a bit uncomfortably. His most well-known papers were actually on other topics, ones Mystra had chosen, but his interest in all things Netherese was the one thing he knew was his and his alone. Mystra had made that quite clear. 

“Oh, that’s vastly understudied.” Wonder of wonders, he thought he heard a note of genuine appreciation in Alys’s voice—and he felt the welcome spark of curiosity within himself in answer.

“You’ve an interest in magical history, I take it,” he said with a smile. “What’s your work on?”

Her eyes lit. “Magical constructs. I’ve developed several new techniques for repairing magical items without compromising the existing Weave within them. I’m actually hoping to extend those techniques to older and more complicated artifacts. I spent most of the past week getting my laboratory set up for the first months of work.”

Gale bit back a grimace. He’d spent most of the past week feeling sorry for himself and pretending he’d unpack tomorrow. Next to Alys Towerfell, he was beginning to feel like a bit of a laggard.

“Gale, my boy!” 

Elminster was waving at him from across the room, his face slightly flushed with the wine, his expression merry. “Come here, there’s someone you have to meet.”

Gale turned to Alys a bit sheepishly. “Well. It seems I am being summoned. That’s my department chair,” he added by way of explanation.

“Say no more.” She nodded to him with a small smile. “It’s been very nice talking to you, Gale.”

As Gale crossed the room, he chanced a glance over his shoulder. Alys was still standing in front of the bar, turning her plastic glass in her hands, looking around the room as if hoping for something she knew she wouldn’t find.

With a faint rush of surprise, Gale realized that for all her polish, Alys Towerfell was just as nervous here as he was.

Alys limited herself to one and a half glasses of wine at the faculty mixer. She managed to have a handful of perfectly polite conversations while there, and even collected a few promises of coffee or catching up later in the semester. 

All of that would have felt like a perfectly acceptable outcome for a faculty event if not for the fact that she had made an utter ass out of herself in front of Gale Dekarios.

Halfway through her walk home she took a moment to search for the name as she stood at a stoplight, waiting for her turn to cross a busy street. She’d had a sinking feeling about why his name had sounded familiar even before Lorroakan had interrupted them, and the search results confirmed it. Gale Dekarios was that collaborator, the graduate student Mystra Ryll had begun dating when he was completing his doctorate under Ryll’s supervision. He also happened to be the coauthor on the only Ryll papers Alys thought were worth a damn.

Maybe he’ll take what I said as a compliment, she thought ruefully as she climbed the stairs to her new apartment. He didn’t seem to take offense, anyway. Decent of him.

Frowning, she dug into her purse for her keys, only half focused on the task of unlocking her door. If Gale was here at BGU and no longer living the well-funded life of a tenured professor at Waterdeep, that probably meant he’d broken up with Ryll. She allowed herself an idle little daydream about asking him on a date before setting it firmly to the side. Brilliant men with beards had always been her type, but if Gale was looking at photos of his ex on his phone during quiet moments, she doubted he was interested in being pounced on by the first colleague who noticed that he was attractive.

And it would probably take him some time to work through the end of such a long and complicated relationship. Alys’s frown deepened. The fact that Mystra Ryll had begun a love affair with her graduate student was one of the biggest reasons Alys did not think much of her. Yes, they had both been adults and a long-term relationship had been the result, but Alys intensely disapproved of a professor sleeping with someone whose career they could destroy with one lukewarm letter of reference. It didn’t escape her notice that Gale, not Mystra, was the one who had uprooted his entire life following their apparent breakup.

Finally, she found her keys and pushed open the door to her apartment, sweeping an approving eye over it as she hung her purse on the hook she’d installed. It was everything she’d been hoping for when she began her search—clean and modern, with plenty of light and an open, airy layout. She’d decorated it in shades of blue and sage and cream and it felt wonderfully pristine in that way places only did when you had just moved into them. She vowed she’d try her best to keep it that way. More than anything Alys Towerfell liked order in her life, liked seeing visual proof that she had things under control.

“You’re going to have to learn to tolerate a bit of mess someday,” her old mentor had said to her once—half teasing, but not entirely.

That thought reminded her that she had not talked to Halsin since her move. With a regretful wince, she pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text message.

AT: I’m finally getting settled! Would love to catch up before the semester starts.

She never knew when Halsin would return one of her missives. He was, to put it mildly, not a particular fan of technology; text messages and emails often went quite a while with no reply. But luck was on her side tonight, because he had apparently already had his phone in hand when she wrote. Seconds after she pressed send , her phone began ringing with a video call.

“Alys? Is that you?”

The screen showed an image of Halsin’s broad chest, clad in a Sword Coast State t-shirt that was soaked through with sweat. Alys smothered a laugh. “You have to point the phone at your face, Halsin—there you go.” She gave him a little wave. “It’s great to see you! How are things?”

“Much the same as ever.” Halsin’s handsome face beamed out at her from the screen as he wiped sweat from his brow; she’d clearly found him while he was out hiking. Not for the first time, Alys wondered if Halsin had ever read his FaerûnProfs.com reviews, specifically the ones that were just lines and lines of fire emoji. “I’m looking forward to meeting the new students. Although I am missing my favorite sorcerer. Is the city everything you hoped for, or are you longing for the quiet and balance of the woods yet?”

“I think it’s a good move,” Alys admitted. “My new colleagues probably aren’t as delightful as you are, but my laboratory is wonderful. I can’t wait to get started, Halsin. There’s a breakthrough around the corner, I just know it.”

“I have no doubt,” he said warmly. “Any plans for fun outside the laboratory?”

“The laboratory is fun,” Alys protested, shaking her head with a laugh. She’d been having some version of this argument with Halsin ever since he was assigned to her as a faculty mentor at Sword Coast State. He was in Druidic Studies, not Sorcery, which had initially disappointed her, but she’d quickly learned to appreciate a perspective from someone outside her field—and the advice of someone who approached life very differently than she did. Even if she would never quite forgive him for talking her into camping that one weekend.

“I’m thinking of getting a cat,” she added, partly because the thought had crossed her mind, and partly to assure him that she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor of her lab again.

“Ah! A splendid idea. Send pictures if you do adopt.” He raised an eyebrow. “And friends? Dates? Any plans in those directions?”

“I only just got here,” Alys deflected. “I’m sure once I settle in, I’ll start meeting more people.”

Halsin looked as if he had thoughts on that, but suddenly, he frowned. “Oh dear. I’m afraid my battery may be…”

Halsin’s image abruptly winked out of existence. Alys smiled down at the screen. How very him, to forget to plug in his much-resented device. 

For just a moment, Alys wondered if she should call her mother as well. Cerise Towerfell would, if nothing else, appreciate the decorating work Alys had done. But she knew the direction that conversation would take: to a discussion of Alys’s salary, her equipment, and how she was wasting her true potential working as a professor rather than joining her mother and uncles and cousins in the industrial labs at Towerfell Constructs.

Alys had tried, more than once, to explain that she liked teaching and preferred to research what she wanted without having to think about profit margins. So far it had failed to stick. Probably because Cerise Towerfell loved thinking about profit margins.

She could call her father, she supposed—Beldan Ilarr was practically allergic to giving life advice. But based on prior data, they’d have a brief, unsatisfying conversation before he said “oops, have to go, love you” and hung up, and Alys was in no mood for the slightly empty feeling that always lingered afterwards.

Another day, she decided. Tonight, she’d run a hot bath, make a cup of tea, take a moment to relax before classes started.

And try to forget how handsome Gale Dekarios had looked when he smiled at her.

Chapter Text

On the night before classes started, Gale decided to leave his apartment—which was still filled with boxes he had yet to unpack—to find some dinner. He made this choice in large part because Tara kept glaring at the boxes and clearing her throat disapprovingly, sometimes adding a pointed comment about how much more cheerful things would feel if he had all his books and art and other belongings in their proper places. He knew Tara was right, of course, but that did not make the task feel any less overwhelming.

He bought an undistinguished sandwich from a local chain and ate it while walking through the park opposite his apartment—a rather pretty park, he had to admit, lush and green here in the last days of summer. There could be much to like about this city, if I would let myself, he thought ruefully. And much to like about his new job as well; he was no longer enduring the whispers of colleagues every time he entered a room, and he didn’t have to wonder if he’d see Mystra every time he turned around. He didn’t have to endure her cool, disapproving glances when they inevitably crossed paths.

Guilt twisted his stomach at the thought. He had little right to resent either the whispers or Mystra’s coldness. One of the most brilliant people in Faerûn had chosen him as her lover and collaborator, and instead of being content with it, he’d gone behind her back to begin a secret project. If he'd met with a chilly reception at home, he had no one to blame but himself.

It had seemed almost a romantic notion at the time—Gale Dekarios, striking out on his own, completing a piece of work that would show the world that Mystra had been right to make him her partner in life and research both. But when Mystra had found out that he was working on something by himself, something she’d told him wasn’t worth their time, she’d taken it as a betrayal. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on her face when she learned about his project, when he admitted that he had been working on Netherese artifacts even after she told him they were trash not worth the effort.

There was no getting around it: Gale’s ego had led him to try to make a name on his own, and it had cost him everything he valued most.

With a sigh, he threw the wrapper of his sandwich into a nearby trash can and began the walk back to his apartment. Start over, he reminded himself. I’m here to start over. Not to wallow in the past.

As he rounded the corner to his block, something caught his eye: The word “Moonlight” painted onto a window in an elegant, curving script. Below it, the words “Wine Bar” had been painted in a smaller block-print font. Gale brightened a bit in spite of his self-pitying mood; he’d always enjoyed a fine glass of wine.

Looks like a nice local spot. I suppose I ought to give it a try.

Since it was early on a Sunday night, the bar was not packed—but it was busier than Gale expected, with several of its tables filled by couples or groups pouring over wine lists. It was softly lit in a way that felt intimate rather than dark or oppressive, and the furniture was all elegant and comfortable and clearly selected with care. It was a charming spot, ideal for a first date, and Gale suddenly found himself wondering what Alys Towerfell would think of it. She’d seemed like an elegant woman, one with good taste.

That’s enough of that, he told himself sternly. You’re hardly in a position to be dating anyone. Especially a colleague.

Gale took a seat at the bar and pulled a menu closer, blinking a bit at the dizzying array of options. He thought himself well-informed on wine, but some of the grapes and labels here were unfamiliar even to him.

“What would you recommend?” he asked the bartender curiously when he realized the man was watching him and awaiting a decision.

“Hmmm.” The bartender tapped his finger against his chin. He was a slender, pale high elf with a pointed, expressive face and white curls; there was more than a bit of theatricality even in that slight gesture. “Let me see. You strike me as a man who likes red wine.”

Gale nodded. “I’ll try a white now and then, of course, but I do tend to choose red when given the option.”

“And I assume you don’t object to something a bit adventurous?” There was a faint, playful challenge in the question.

“Not at all,” Gale said, with a bit more confidence than he felt.

“Splendid. Wait right there.”

The bartender turned around and grabbed a bottle from the shelves behind him. A moment later, he was sliding a glass of dark red wine across the bar to Gale. Gale gave it a cautious sip and raised his eyebrows. It was earthy and peppery, not quite like anything he’d had before, and that very uniqueness brought a smile to his face. “Oh my,” he said, leaning forward to peer at the label. “That’s quite good.”

“See? He likes it.” The bartender was aiming the words not at Gale, but at the other person sitting at the bar: a handsome man with deep brown skin and an impressive crown of horns. At first Gale took him for a tiefling, but the lack of a tail and the sharper cheekbones made him reconsider—not a tiefling, but an actual devil. 

Despite what he was, the man did not look particularly devilish. He was smiling fondly at the bartender, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it!” he protested. “I just said it was an unusual grape and it might be hard to sell.”

“Give our customers some credit, darling,” the elf said with a dramatic sigh. “And give me some credit for being able to charm them into trying it.”

“You two own this bar?” Gale asked, taking another sip. “It’s a lovely spot.”

The devil nodded and extended a hand to shake Gale’s. “Wyll Ravengard.”

“Astarion Ancunin.” The bartender raised his hand in greeting.

Gale shook Wyll’s hand and returned Astarion’s wave with a nod. “Pleased to meet both of you. Gale Dekarios. I just moved into the building down the street.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Wyll said warmly. “I hope we’ll see more of you.”

“You can count on it.” Gale took another drink of his wine, feeling more cheerful than he had in weeks. “In fact, I suspect I may become something of a regular.” 

The first day of classes went remarkably well. Gale changed sweaters three times before leaving his apartment, finally settling on a green v-neck over a white button-down shirt, only to find that the day was too warm for the sweater at all and he had to settle for just the shirt. But in the end, of course, his outfit hardly mattered. The seats in his seminar were nearly full and the students seemed genuinely happy to be there. He left the classroom feeling more balanced and content than he had in months. Gods, he’d missed teaching, missed talking about his favorite subject with talented young people excited to learn it. For the past several years he’d laid his classes aside to focus on his collaborations with Mystra. It felt good to reclaim that part of his work.

And the day continued to improve. When Gale opened the door to his laboratory—another dusty space, this one with linoleum floors and scarred counters, but his and his alone for the first time in his career—several boxes had been delivered and set for him on the table. They were the boxes he’d packed with the Netherese tomes and artifacts he’d been working on when he left Waterdeep. He heaved a deep, relieved sigh; he’d spent the last of his Waterdeep research funds on finding this collection, and it had taken ages to arrange for its transport to BGU. Part of him had worried that keeping it from him would be Mystra’s last revenge, even though she had termed the lot of it “worthless, uninteresting junk.” 

He spent the afternoon and early evening hours unpacking the artifacts, carefully labeling the drawers where he’d put them, wrapping and rewrapping the most delicate ones to ensure they would be protected. Soon, he’d put away everything except the contents of one box: the fragments that he had never quite known what to do with.

They were a strange collection of objects. During the excavation outside Waterdeep, he’d found shattered stones in three colors, warm to the touch with magic, mixed in with a number of heavy metal pieces, each bearing delicate etchings, none of them larger than the palm of his hand. Each metal piece had jagged, broken edges, as if it had been thrown from a great height and had shattered like porcelain. 

Rationally, he should have simply tucked them into a drawer and forgotten about them. He had far more complete, far more promising pieces to work on. But something about the fragments had always fascinated him. Perhaps it was the weight of the metal pieces in his hands, far heavier than they should have been. Perhaps it was the bright colors of the stones. Perhaps it was the spark of the Weave within them—the sharp remnants of broken spells, daring him to decipher what they had been so long ago when Karsus reigned.

And so Gale unpacked that last box and set the fragments not in drawers, but right out on his laboratory bench. And some hours later, he stared at them and his breath caught.

How did I not see this earlier?

He could be wrong, of course. But he didn’t think he was. Each and every fragment here was part of the same construct. Each metal piece had the same heft, the same texture and etchings, the same deep iron hue; the stones, once rebuilt, would all be the same size and shape. And there was something about the magic that suggested to Gale that the metal and stones belonged together—a shared structure to their enchantments that spoke of the work of a single magic user.

Everything in him longed to know what this object had been.

He blew out a deep, excited breath as he stared at the pieces. His speciality was in deciphering intact texts and artifacts; he had no idea how he could begin reconstructing something this complex and this fragmented, despite his expertise in all things Netherese. 

But he thought he knew someone who might.

On the evening of the first day of classes, Alys entered the mailroom of her condo building to find another woman standing in front of her mailbox, opening the box for the apartment below hers. Alys stood back to wait patiently for her turn, but something about the woman seemed familiar.

It clicked just as she turned around and saw the woman’s sharp, distinctively asymmetrical white bob. “Shadowheart?”

The lovely half-elf’s eyes narrowed, then relaxed. “Alys… Towerfell, right? We met at the faculty mixer, didn’t we?” She offered a slight nod. “I didn’t realize we lived in the same building. I hope you’re settling in.”

Shadowheart’s tone sounded distant, almost formal. Most people would have thought it unfriendly, but Alys had another suspicion—that Shadowheart, just like Alys, struggled with small talk.

“I am,” she said, returning the nod. “And you? How’s the semester starting out?”

“Oh, the usual.” Shadowheart’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Usual for Religious Magics, that is. Selunite scholars are fighting with Shar experts in the hallways, the Oghma expert is already making plans for our solstice party, and we have a senior who wants to do a ‘creative thesis’ on Bhaal.”

Alys laughed. “It sounds… lively.”

“Hey, babe! Anything good in the mail?”

An enormously tall tiefling woman with one horn stepped into the mailroom, a grin on her bright red face as she looked at Shadowheart. Shadowheart’s entire face lit up when she looked at the other woman, and she stood on her toes for an enthusiastic kiss.

“Alas, it’s only junk mail,” Shadowheart said, handing the other woman the stack of envelopes and flyers. “But I did meet our new neighbor. Karlach, this is Alys Towerfell. She’s a new Sorcery professor. Alys, this is my girlfriend Karlach.”

Karlach shook Alys’s hand with an enthusiasm that left Alys a little startled. “Hey, welcome to the building! Are you in 512? Gotta say, you’re much quieter than the last people who lived there.”

Alys didn’t think it was a complaint, but she still felt oddly apologetic about being less interesting than their previous neighbor. “Do you work at BGU as well?”

The tiefling let out a warm belly laugh. “Nah. I teach gym and coach track at the high school down the road.”

“Their team has been city champions two years running,” Shadowheart added proudly, putting her arm around Karlach’s waist.

Alys watched the two of them with a little twinge of envy. Her dating life had all but been on hold for years; ever since breaking up with her graduate school boyfriend she’d been laser-focused on her career. Maybe as she settled into BGU, she could change that.

Something in her expression must have tipped Karlach off to the direction of her thoughts, because the tiefling’s face brightened. “You living with anyone? Boyfriend, girlfriend, partner?”

Alys shook her head. “Just me. I might get a cat,” she added, in a bid to seem slightly less lonely.

“Aw, I love cats! Let me know if you ever need a cat-sitter,” Karlach said, as if it were already decided. “And if you feel like you might want to meet some people, I am a fantastic matchmaker,” she added with a wink.

Shadowheart gave her a fond look. “You are an enthusiastic matchmaker,” she corrected playfully.

Alys chuckled. She could hear the warning in Shadowheart’s words, but she was feeling just brave enough to ignore it. “I may take you up on that when I’m feeling more settled,” she admitted. “I’m… not much good at meeting people on my own.” 

Karlach’s eyes sparkled with joy. “Here, give me your phone. I’ll put in my number. You text me when you’re ready for me to find the love of your life. And in the meantime, you should come over for dinner.”

Alys handed her phone over with a smile. “I’d like that.”

The next morning, Alys opened her laptop to the usual flurry of university-wide emails about parking and construction, two student requests to be added off the waitlist for Sorcery 101, and—to her shock—a message from Gale Dekarios.

Dear Prof. Towerfell,

I don’t know if you’ll remember me—we met briefly at the faculty mixer two weeks ago. I recall you saying that your research focuses on reconstructing damaged magical constructs, and I was wondering if I might be able to get your professional opinion on some Netherese fragments I’ve been working with.

Gale’s message went on to explain that he suspected he had a number of fragments that had all been part of the same artifact. He’d even included pictures. Alys couldn’t tell much from the images alone, of course, but the pictures and his description made her think that he was likely right about their shared origin. 

I’m considering trying to rebuild the artifact, but I’ve never attempted such a thing before. Might you be available to take a look at the project and tell me whether you think it’s feasible?

Regards,
Gale

It was, objectively, a slightly pretentious and overly formal email, but Alys couldn’t help smiling at it. She’d had a number of male colleagues who insisted on being addressed by their titles while using her name without a second thought; it was oddly charming to have someone approach it the other way around. And the idea of rebuilding a destroyed Netherese artifact set every neuron in her brain alight with excitement. She quickly fired off a reply. 

Dear Prof. Dekarios,

I have suspicions based on the photos you sent, but I could give you a more informed opinion if I saw the fragments in person. Would you be open to me visiting your lab?

AT

P.S. If I can call you Gale, you can call me Alys.

Ten minutes later, a reply pinged in her inbox.

Dear Alys,

Of course! Just let me know what would suit your schedule. I’m here all day if your Tuesdays happen to be flexible.

Regards,
Gale (you can call me Gale)

 

Thirty minutes later, Alys was knocking on the door to Gale Dekarios’s laboratory in the basement of the Wizardry building. The door sprang open almost as soon as her knuckles lifted from its surface. Gale was standing there, a slightly nervous smile on his face. He was wearing the same purple button-down shirt she’d seen him in at the faculty mixer, but he’d pulled his hair back into a half-bun; it was charmingly askew, as if he’d been focusing on his work and had only half been paying attention when he did it. 

“Professor Tower—er, Alys! Come in! Come in. Welcome to my humble abode, my sanctuary, my palace of research, et cetera.”

Alys bit back a laugh as she stepped in; she wasn’t sure if Gale was trying to be funny, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So she focused on studying her surroundings instead. Like most of the labs she’d seen at BGU, this one had a laminate-tile floor, wooden benches, and the scars of many years of previous work. But her eye was immediately drawn to the fragments Gale had photographed. He’d placed them on the laboratory’s central bench, and though they were made of a dark, rough metal, they seemed to shimmer faintly in the fluorescent overhead lights.

“Thank you for the invitation,” she said, a bit distracted by the sparks of magic she could sense from the broken artifact. A stack of cardboard boxes in the corner caught her eye. “Your materials just arrived, I take it?”

He nodded. “I’d been a bit anxious about their delivery, but they finally showed up on my doorstep yesterday. Perhaps the time apart from them did me good, however. I’d somehow assumed the similarity between these pieces was a coincidence. But now I wonder if there’s more to it than that.” He pushed his glasses back into place with his index finger. “I hope I didn’t trouble you with my query.”

Alys shook her head emphatically. “It’s no inconvenience, believe me. The truth is I’ve been waiting for a chance like this. Would you mind if I use one of my tools on them?”

Gale blinked. “A—a tool?”

Alys reached into her bag and pulled out something that looked like an empty picture frame, an outline of a rectangle made out of bright silver metal. “It’s an imaging device, a portable version of a larger one I have in my lab,” she explained. “When I cast the spell that activates it, it reveals the pattern of Weave inside an enchanted object. It’s sensitive enough to reveal the residue of spells that have faded with age. I agree with you that the fragments look similar, but seeing the Weavework could confirm our—er, your suspicions.”

Gale’s eyes lit with excitement. He stared at the little rectangle as an enthusiastic grin began spreading across his face. “I’ve never heard of anything like that! How remarkable. May I see it? Is it your design? Can it create images of spells being actively cast, or only ones embedded into constructs?”

Alys couldn’t help herself that time. She did laugh—but she hoped Gale would realize she wasn’t laughing at him. It was just so pleasant to be around someone who loved magic the way she did. “I’ll take those one at a time. Yes, you can see it,” she said, handing him the device. “It works for spells being cast, but not as well as it does for artifacts with static enchantments—though I’m working on that. And yes, it’s my design.”

“Astonishing.” Gale ran careful fingers over her frame, examining the runes she’d written on its edges, holding it up to the light. He was completely absorbed by the little device, and Alys felt a rush of satisfaction at seeing him so enraptured by what she’d built. Alys did not lack self-confidence; she knew her work was good. But it still felt nice to see a colleague—a wizard, no less—openly impressed by it.

A look of curiosity suddenly sparked in Gale’s dark eyes. “I don’t mean to pry, but something just occurred to me. Towerfell. Any relation to Towerfell Constructs?”

Alys felt her pride abruptly desert her, replaced by dread.

Gods, she always hated having this conversation. Some people took it in stride—Halsin, of course, had been one—but more often than not, this information irrevocably changed her relationship with whoever she was talking to. A solid one-fifth of people gaped at her and told her she was crazy for not working at her family company, Faerûn’s oldest and most storied manufacturer of magical objects. The rest made trust fund princess jokes, demanded to know why Towerfell Constructs had discontinued their favorite product, or began dropping hints that they could really use a loan. 

But there was no point in lying about it, so she kept her voice even as she answered. “Cerise Towerfell is my mother.”

“Ah!” Gale nodded easily, as if the information was interesting but unsurprising. “They make fine things. Though nothing quite as fascinating as this, in my humble opinion. Can I see it in action?” 

Alys was briefly at a loss for words. In all the times she’d admitted to being one of “those” Towerfells, she’d never had it turned around into a compliment about her own work. With a rush of profound relief, she realized that Gale Dekarios was going to be one of those rare people who truly did not care who her mother was, who would continue to judge her on her own merits rather than her family name.

“Of course,” she finally managed, holding out her hand. “I just need to activate it.”

Gale placed the device back in her hands with only a brief flicker of reluctance at relinquishing it. He watched intently as Alys cast the spell that activated the device. Comprehension lit in his eyes as the spell snapped into place, and Alys got the sense that if she deactivated it and handed the frame back to him, he would be able to replicate what she’d just done with ease.

She tried hard not to find that so appealing.

Clearing her throat, she aimed her device at the fragments on the table, peering through the hazy film now hanging inside the rectangle. Through that film, she could see orange lines glowing against the dark metal of the fragments and shining through the gemstones. It was clearly spellwork, but unlike anything Alys had seen before. It reminded her of a shattered window that had been put back together piece by piece, all jagged bits and irregular angles. There was structure and pattern to it, but it was not like any spell she’d ever built—and she knew immediately that reconstructing it would be no easy task.

She handed the device to Gale. “Well, I think you’re right about it being parts of the same artifact. Take a look.”

Gale’s breath caught immediately. “Look at that. The residue of the spell, clear as day. And such classic Netherese spellwork,” he murmured, entranced by what he was seeing. “Each sage had his or her own way of putting a spell together. We modern casters like our spells to be easily replicated, but the Netherese wizards and sorcerers preferred to make things difficult for potential imitators.” He raised his fingers to the device’s screen, tracing the glowing lines. “I wonder what it did?”

“I wouldn’t mind knowing myself,” Alys admitted, trying to peer over his shoulder without crowding him. 

A question was dancing on the tip of her tongue—a request, a proposal. She wanted to help rebuild this artifact. It was exactly the kind of thing she’d hoped to do with her new imaging device, and exactly the kind of project that would allow her to show off the techniques she’d developed for rebuilding broken constructs. 

On her own, of course, it would take her months—perhaps years—to learn enough about Netherese spellwork to manage it. But working with Gale Dekarios would solve that problem. Furthermore, Gale did not have experience rebuilding constructs. They could each offer something the other needed. 

Still, she hesitated. Gale’s last collaborator had, rather famously, been his romantic partner as well. She didn’t want to seem as if she were proposing a similar path for them, even given how attractive she found him. Especially given that.

“Do you think it could be rebuilt?” Gale said, when the silence had stretched on for a full minute.

“I do.” Alys drew a breath and decided to take the plunge. “And—if you’d be open to a collaboration, I’d love to help you do it. On a trial basis, perhaps, while we see if we work well together?”

Gale turned to her, his lips parted in surprise. Her first assumption was that she’d overstepped, that he would be offended at the suggestion that he might need or want her help, that he would remind her these were his pieces to work on. But his brown eyes lit and he began to smile. “Really? You like the project?” he said almost shyly.

She nodded. “More than like it. It’s exactly the kind of thing I’ve been hoping to do. I wouldn’t be able to help much with the Netherese magic angle, of course. But the imaging and reconstruction is exactly my specialty.”

“And, coincidentally, those are exactly the areas where my admittedly considerable expertise falls short,” he said with a smile. He looked over at her with a warm, pleased expression on his face. “This feels rather fated, I must say.”

“I don’t know about fate,” Alys said, returning his smile with one of her own. She’d never believed in fate, personally; as her mother was fond of saying, there was no grand plan, only hard work. “But it might be very, very good luck.”

Chapter Text

“Do you think part of it could be a semi-circle?” Alys asked. 

Gale looked up from his laboratory notebook, where he was recording the weight of each fragment of the artifact and assigning a number to each one. His new research partner was scanning the weighed and labeled pieces with her imaging device, creating maps of the Weave within each to assist their eventual reconstruction. 

“Some of the unbroken edges are rounded, but others are so sharp and straight,” Alys continued thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the fragments. “I think the structure may have been more three-dimensional than I initially assumed.”

“Now, that’s a compelling thought,” Gale agreed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “It would be somewhat unusual for a Netherese artifact, but then again, I’ve never worked with something this large before.” 

That now-familiar hum of excitement began coursing through him again. He was trying not to get ahead of himself, trying not to fall into a trap made from his own hubris again—but every one of his instincts was telling him that this artifact was a major find, and that its reconstruction might just salvage the wreck he’d made of his career.

Perhaps I should have done this alone, a voice within him whispered. I could claim the work for myself, without having to share the credit for once. But he discarded the thought even as it occurred to him. Gale had enormous—and, he thought, well-earned—confidence in his own abilities. But Alys had expertise in areas he lacked and that were necessary to this project. Doing the work right was more important than doing it alone.

And he had to admit that he was enjoying her company. Alys Towerfell was a wonderful mix of professionalism and passion; she clearly loved this project as much as he did, and was just as committed to doing it well. That alone would have made Gale like her, but he was increasingly growing to enjoy other things about her, particularly her dry sense of humor.

Somehow, Alys must have sensed the direction of his thoughts—or perhaps it was simple coincidence. But she tilted her head as she met his gaze. “Can I ask how you think our collaboration is going?”

That was something about Alys that had taken some getting used to—her frankness, her willingness to jump directly into a potentially difficult topic rather than talking around it to soften its arrival. Gale himself was no stranger to a rambling sentence and tended to take the scenic path through a conversation. But the more time he spent with Alys, the more he appreciated the way she seemed to cut right to the heart of a matter.

“From my perspective? It’s been marvelous,” he admitted. “I had looked up your previous work before messaging you, of course, so my expectations were high. But you’ve surpassed all of them. And perhaps I’m flattering myself, but I think we get along rather well.” He cleared his throat nervously. “How—how has it seemed from your perspective?”

“I like working with you too,” she said simply. “You’re organized, you follow through on what you say you’ll do, you can argue with me without being obnoxious about it, and you’re astonishingly talented. Not to mention a walking encyclopedia of all things Netherese.” She paused for a moment, then seemed to decide to say something. “I did the same thing—looked up your previous work. I wasn’t sure what to expect. You haven’t published much on Netherese artifacts.”

Gale set down his pencil with a chuckle. “No. I haven’t,” he admitted. “Which seems strange to say. When I began graduate school, I thought studying Netherese magic would be my life’s work. I even got a tattoo. It’s meant to resemble one Karsus himself bore.” He tapped the thin lines on his cheek, the ones that stretched up to the corner of his eye and down to the outline of an orb on his chest. He’d gotten the tattoo just before starting his doctoral program. Tara had been horrified, of course, and had pestered him to have it removed for years. 

It occurred to him, suddenly, that the pestering had stopped right around the time he’d started sleeping with Mystra.

He shook that thought away and continued. “But when I met my, ah, former collaborator, she persuaded me that other fields offered more interesting problems and greater room for advancement. I set aside my Netherese obsessions for a time.” He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth briefly. “Perhaps I should have set them aside for longer.”

Alys blinked. “What makes you say that?”

It was a fair question, given what they were working on, but Gale dreaded giving the answer. “It—my interest in Netherese magic caused the falling-out between myself and Mystra Ryll.” He sighed. “You’ve heard, I suppose, that we were romantic partners as well as professional ones.”

Alys nodded matter-of-factly. “It’s, ah, well-known.”

Gale chuckled humorlessly. “Well. The bulk of my time was taken up by our usual work on Great Cities artifacts, but I decided to pick up some Netherese work as a side project.” 

He paused there, briefly uncertain of how to continue. He’d barely talked about this with anyone, not even Tara. For so many months it had felt too fresh, too raw; he had no desire to perform an autopsy of his relationship or his career. But his folly was farther in the past now—and he could not help but feel that Alys deserved to know what he’d done if she was going to continue working with him.

The next words came spilling out far more easily than he’d expected. “I unexpectedly found a cache of Netherese artifacts on an excavation. I wanted to work on them, but Mystra told me to focus on our joint work. Instead of listening I went behind her back to pursue the project by myself. All my career I’d heard whispers that Mystra had made my reputation, that I would be nothing if not for her,” he admitted with a sigh. “She always told me to ignore it, but I had it in my head that if I could complete a project on my own, if I could do something without her, I’d prove them wrong.” He shook his head. “And instead, I proved to her that I couldn’t be trusted.”

Alys crossed her arms. Her lovely violet eyes were narrowed disapprovingly. Gale braced himself to be told how stupidly he’d acted—but instead, she said, “Well, you probably shouldn’t have lied, but I hardly think a side project is some grand betrayal of trust. She worked with other collaborators, didn’t she? She shouldn’t have expected to choose every topic you worked on for the rest of your career.”

Gale opened his mouth to argue that she hadn’t expected that—but suddenly, he wondered if that was true. Mystra had assumed he would follow her lead, that he would work on whatever she deemed most interesting and significant. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing they’d worked on that had started out as his idea. Meanwhile, Mystra had indeed pursued several projects that did not involve him, and it hadn’t even occurred to him to resent it.

“That’s generous of you. But alas for me, Mystra disagreed,” he said wryly. “And—well, now here I am. Starting over in all senses of the phrase.”

Alys opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say next was cut off by a buzzing sound at her wrist. She looked down and winced. “Oh, blast. I’m sorry, Gale. I know this is an awkward moment to leave a conversation, but I. Ah.” A blush formed on her deep slate skin. “I have a date tonight.”

“A date?” Gale felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. He immediately felt foolish; gods, it was the least surprising thing in the world that smart, beautiful Alys Towerfell was going on a date. He should have been surprised that she wasn’t going on more of them. “I hadn’t heard you mention a—boyfriend? Girlfriend?” he added, trying to cover his reaction.

“It’s a blind date,” Alys said a bit sheepishly. “My neighbor set me up. I’ve been trying not to think too much about it—I’m slightly terrified. My track record lately is borderline dismal.”

“Well. I hope it’s wonderful,” Gale told her. “You’re a remarkable woman. I imagine your dinner partner will feel very fortunate indeed when you take the seat opposite him or her.”

Alys grinned at him, her blush deepening a bit. “Thank you for the pep talk,” she said sincerely. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Gale nodded. “Same time, same place. I’ll be here.”

Alys turned to go, but turned back after just a step or two. “For what it’s worth,” she said seriously, “This is a good project. A great one. And I’m sorry your ex didn’t see that.”

Gale watched Alys go with a twinge of—something. Envy, perhaps. He had not even attempted to date again since breaking up with Mystra, although both his mother and Tara had encouraged him to try. He wondered what it would have been like to be in Alys’s shoes, to be the one headed out to try his luck with love once more.

And then he wondered something much more frightening.

He wondered what it would be like to be Alys’s blind date. To be the one sitting at the restaurant when she walked through the door, watching the candlelight flicker over her face as they studied their menus, talking to her for hours about everything and nothing.

No, he told himself firmly, forcing his attention back to his laboratory notebook. You’ve walked that path before, Gale Dekarios. And it does not lead anywhere good.

“So, Lae’zel. How do you know Karlach?” Alys asked her date as the waiter set down their drinks.

“We share an interest in physical exertion. I met her when I joined something called a ‘weekend basketball league.’” The other woman looked at her across the table, her large Githyanki eyes openly evaluating Alys. “And you?”

“We’re neighbors,” Alys explained. “I just moved to Baldur’s Gate a few months ago. How long have you been here?”

“Slightly less than a year. The Orphic Corporation asked me to run security at their branch here. I was not enthused about the move, but I have disliked your Fay-run less than I expected.” Lae’zel took a sip of her drink.

Alys took a sip of her own, trying to think of something to say next. She could actually see why Karlach had set them up; like Alys, Lae’zel was direct and not particularly chatty. But conversation tended to flow more easily when at least one person was an enthusiastic talker.

They had just ordered their appetizers when Lae’zel crossed her arms and met her gaze frankly. “Githyanki customs are significantly more efficient than yours, so I have found it best to be candid. I am not interested in a… romance. My aim in going on these ‘sightless dates’ is carnal in nature, and I generally do not seek a second date.”

Alys didn’t quite choke on her wine. But it was a near thing.

“Well. Thank you for your honesty, Lae’zel,” she said—sincerely, because this was actually a useful thing to know up front. She wondered, briefly, if a one-night stand was something she ought to try. She hadn’t had sex in… quite a while, and Lae’zel was undeniably attractive; the githyanki’s scoop-necked red-orange dress showed off a lithe, toned body. But the idea of taking her clothes off with a near-stranger had never been something Alys could quite wrap her head around.

“I’m not much for one-night stands myself,” she continued after a pause. “It’s no reflection on you. But I think I’m looking for, ah. Something more long-term.” She blushed a bit, as if she were admitting something embarrassing. “A romance.”

Lae’zel nodded almost approvingly. “It seems we are seeking different things, then. A pity. I would have liked to know how you taste.”

Alys did choke on her wine that time. “You don’t mince words, do you?” she said wryly as she reached for her napkin.

“No. It saves considerable time.” But something almost vulnerable flashed across Lae’zel’s expression. “I suppose you will want to end this dinner.”

Alys shook her head. “Not unless you want to. We may not be, ah, carnally compatible, but I’m also looking to make friends in Baldur’s Gate. If you’re interested in that.”

Lae’zel tilted her head to the side, considering. “I have no other plans for the evening. And thus far I have not found being in your presence unpleasant. Very well. Let us see if we might be compatible as friends.”

The rest of the evening was actually quite a lot of fun. Lae’zel turned out to be good company—she and Alys even went to the movie they’d planned, and Lae’zel’s scathing commentary on the writing and acting had Alys smothering her laughter. They ended the evening with plans to see an upcoming romantic comedy that looked amusingly terrible. But Alys still did not quite know how to respond the next day when Gale asked how her date had been.

After a pause, Alys said, “Well, she propositioned me within the first ten minutes. But she took it well when I turned her down. After that we had a good time.”

Gale stared at her for a long moment. His brown eyes were wide with genuine shock. “She—propositioned you? As in, suggested that you and she… ten minutes after meeting…?” He blinked and shook his head. “I’m suddenly feeling rather old-fashioned. I don’t know that I would be prepared for someone to, ah, move so quickly.”

“Well, if that makes you old-fashioned, I am too,” Alys said wryly. It occurred to her, a bit too late, that this conversation was drawing uncomfortably close to a discussion of her sex life, which was absolutely not something she should be talking about with Gale. “But I think I might have made a friend, so I’m still glad I went. Shall we get back to the weighing and mapping?”

“Yes!” Gale said, a bit too loudly and enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Perhaps we can finish today.”

The two of them worked side-by-side in near silence well into the late afternoon. Only the rumbling of her stomach some time later alerted Alys to the fact that they had gone into the dinner hour. She thought about telling Gale that she needed to wrap things up, but they were so close to finishing this repetitive yet crucial preliminary task—she didn’t truly want to end the day without completing it.

“I’m going to walk to the student union for some dinner, then come back to finish,” she told him. “Can I get you anything?”

Gale looked at his watch and blinked. “Goodness. Already? Time does fly when you’re having fun.” He cleared his throat. “Could I join you? It would probably be good for me to stretch my legs.”

“Of course,” Alys assured him.

It was an almost perfect fall night—cooling but not yet cold, with soft hints of red around the edges of the leaves on the campus trees. Alys slid her hands into the pocket of her favorite teal jacket and breathed the air in deep. She might not have the kind of deep connection to the outdoors that someone like Halsin did, but she could appreciate an evening like this.

She and Gale speculated about what the artifact might be as they crossed the campus, raising possibilities from the realistic to the bizarre. Alys’s personal favorite was Gale’s suggestion that it might be a very large frying pan.

“And what, pray tell, would one cook in a magic frying pan?” she asked playfully.

“The same things you’d cook in a regular one, I imagine,” he replied, smiling. “Pancakes, fish, roasted tomatoes, hondur sauce… the possibilities are endless.”

“You cook, I take it?”

“Frequently and enthusiastically.” He grinned, clearly delighted by the subject. “My mother would say that my best recipes are hers, of course, but I’ve been known to add a twist or two of my own. And some of my favorites are my own personal creations. What about you?”

“I wouldn’t say I love to cook. But I do it out of necessity because I love to eat,” Alys quipped. “And I like baking. Cookies, mostly, though I enjoy baking bread and cakes now and again.”

“Perhaps we should swap recipes sometime,” Gale suggested. “My repertoire of desserts is somewhat lacking.”

“It’s a deal.” Alys pushed open the door to the student union. “In the meantime, would you prefer a burrito or a burger?”

They decided on burritos—the better to carry back with them to the lab—but as they exited the union with their food in hand, they noticed a small cluster of students standing around one of the union’s tables. Two students, a male elf and a female tiefling, were staring at each other over a lanceboard, a player’s clock clicking merrily away at the side of the table.

Gale beamed and stopped. “Lanceboard! Gods, it’s been ages since I’ve played.” His eyes swept over the board, taking the measure of the match in progress. “Do you enjoy the game?”

“Not really,” Alys admitted with a little laugh. “I know the rules, but I don’t have the patience to be much good at it.” She tilted her head to the side. “These two look like they’re taking it seriously, though.”

The male student hit the clock, then smirked at his opponent, clearly believing himself on the way to victory. Next to Alys, Gale chuckled.

“What’s funny?” Alys asked quietly.

“Our overconfident young friend there.” Gale’s eyes were alight with anticipation. “White has checkmate in two moves.”

Alys blinked at him in surprise, wondering what made him so certain. Gale leaned in, lowering his voice to prevent the competitors from hearing him. “First, she’s going to threaten the black king by moving her rook one square to the right.” 

The tiefling player moved the piece just as Gale had suggested, then hit the clock.

“Black has only two choices now, I fear,” Gale continued, his voice still pitched low. “But neither will prevent the inevitable. He could take that rook with his bishop—but that leaves the white queen free to move three squares to the right, pinning down the king with the help of her knight. Option two is for black’s king to retreat up and right–-but that’s easily solved with a single move from the white knight, as the rook will prevent further escape. Either way, white will reach checkmate on the next move.”

Alys narrowed her eyes at the lanceboard, envisioning the scenarios Gale had just described. Now that he’d explained them, she could see exactly how the moves would play out. In spite of her own indifference to lanceboard, she couldn’t help but be impressed by Gale’s command of the game, entranced by his clear passion for it. There was something so intoxicating about the combination of competence and enthusiasm.

She also had to admit that Gale’s voice sounded very, very appealing in that quiet, almost intimate tone, and she liked that he was standing close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body.

Gods. Maybe I should have slept with Lae’zel, she thought wryly. It might have helped take the edge off this bloody crush.

Because that’s what this was, she realized: a crush. An extremely inconvenient one that she absolutely could not pursue, not without risking one of the best professional opportunities that had come her way in years.

The male elf’s face fell as he took in his predicament. When the clock had nearly run out, he pulled his king up and to the right, but the expression on his face told everyone that he knew what would happen. The tiefling grinned as she moved her knight.

“Checkmate.”

As the students around the game broke into cheers, the opponents shook hands, and Gale and Alys began to move away. Alys unwrapped the corner of her dinner and took a bite, trying to hide her sudden disquiet.

She could not have a crush on Gale Dekarios. But she also could not see how she was going to stop.

Gale and Alys worked well into the evening hours, wrapping up the labeling and mapping of their fragments. Alys was never a talkative research partner, so perhaps it was Gale’s imagination—but she seemed even quieter than usual that evening.

She’s probably just tired, he told himself. But worry that he’d somehow offended her still bubbled in his stomach. Perhaps he’d been showing off when he explained the lanceboard strategy to her? It would not be the first time he’d annoyed someone by delivering an impromptu lecture that they hadn’t wanted to hear.

Then again, maybe there was something on her mind that had nothing to do with him. “It’s only rarely about you, Mr. Dekarios,” as Tara was fond of reminding him.

“I’ll put the map into my computer and run some simulations, see if I can make an educated guess at the artifact’s likely shape. It will likely take me a few tries to get the kinks out of the program,” Alys told him as she packed up her things. “But I’ll message you when I have something promising. How does that sound?”

“Delightful,” Gale said, probably a little too enthusiastically. “And I’ll continue my hunt through my collection of Netherese grimoires. Perhaps I’ll find something that points us in the right direction, or some indication of which sage might have constructed it. I always say that the solution to any problem is probably more reading.”

Alys smiled at that, and opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly blinked and fell silent. “Did you hear that?”

Gale narrowed his eyes and listened. He did hear something—a scraping sound, coming from the next room.

“Is that in Lorroakan’s lab?” Gale asked. “I could have sworn I saw him leaving campus today at noon. Perhaps he’s a night owl.”

“I doubt it.” Alys scowled, then sighed. “We should probably take a look through the window in case squirrels are eating his equipment.” 

“Indeed. If they are, I’d like to thank them,” Gale muttered as they moved into the hallway. He knew he probably shouldn’t be so petty, but Lorroakan said something snide to him every time they crossed paths, and had a habit of stretching faculty meetings twice as long as they needed to be with his grandstanding, bragging, and constant complaints about the “inferiority” of his students. Even Elminster could not conceal a heavy sigh every time Lorroakan opened his mouth.

The door to Lorroakan’s laboratory was open and so the two of them peered through it. Lorroakan was not inside, but someone else was—a young tiefling man with red skin whose back was to the door. He was pushing a cot against the wall and did not seem to hear them approach.

“Are you sleeping here?” Alys blurted.

The man jumped and spun around. For a moment he looked horrified, but he quickly shifted to an expression of deep annoyance. “And if I am?” he asked, drawing himself up to his full height. “I’m Professor Athkatla’s graduate student. He has entrusted me with a very sensitive experiment that must be checked every hour for the next eight hours.”

Gale frowned. “Couldn’t he have started it earlier today? I have to say, it’s unusual to expect a graduate student to spend the night in a laboratory. And by ‘unusual,’ I mean ‘generally considered unacceptable.’”

“He’s been busy,” the young man said, his voice clipped and defensive. “But he needs the results by tomorrow morning. And so here I am. Check the department website if you don’t believe I am who I say I am. My name is Rolan Ramazith.” His bright yellow eyes narrowed. “And who, exactly, are you?”

“I’m Professor Gale Dekarios. I have the lab next door,” Gale explained. “This is my collaborator, Professor Alys Towerfell from the Sorcery department.”

“Ah.” Rolan gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “Well, Professor Dekarios, perhaps you’ve never thought of it this way, but the best research requires a certain level of dedication. I suppose not everyone will understand. I assure you, however, that I am up to the task of doing whatever Professor Athkatla needs. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to set my hourly alarm for the rest of the night.” He turned his back on Alys and Gale and began tapping the screen of his phone. 

Gale looked over at Alys, wondering how she was taking this. The young wizard was being rather arrogant—but it was also clear that his advisor was taking advantage of him. Alys’s lovely face was drawn into a disapproving scowl, but somehow, he sensed that most of her disapproval was not for Rolan. 

“Well. I wish you luck, then,” Gale said, ignoring the barely-veiled barbs Rolan had flung his way. “And if you’re ever in the laboratory at, ah, more usual hours, do say hello. I’m always delighted to talk magic with other wizards.”

Rolan grunted, but did not reply.

“The more I learn about Lorroakan Athkatla, the more I want to punch him in the nose,” Alys muttered when they were out of Rolan’s earshot.

Gale looked back over his shoulder at Lorroakan’s laboratory door. “I assure you, the sentiment is shared.”

Chapter Text

“Home late again, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara said reprovingly, her tail lashing in dismay as Gale removed his coat. “I have not been fed. Nor have I had my usual seat of choice, namely, my prized spot in your lap. This simply cannot continue.”

“I’m sorry, Tara,” Gale said sheepishly, glancing at his watch. “There was an exciting breakthrough with that artifact, and—well, I won’t bore you with the details before I feed you. Tuna?”

“And cream,” Tara said primly. “I think I’ve earned it for being so patient.”

As Gale prepared Tara’s dinner, the tressym leapt onto the table, watching him intently. “Now then. Do tell me what was so important that my dinner companion went missing.”

“Alys’s program generated some possible shapes for our fragments,” Gale said, unable to hide his smile. “Complete with suggestions for the original construction of the spell itself. We’re going to move the fragments to her laboratory tomorrow so that we can use her larger imaging tools while we try a few different shapes. It will take us a few tries to get it right, I’m sure, but it’s much better than trying to assemble the artifact on guesswork alone. This is a find, Tara. I’m sure of it. And if we can rebuild it…” 

He let the thought trail off there. Partly, he realized, he was not truly certain how he wanted that sentence to end. What were his hopes for this project? Did he want Waterdeep to beg him to come back? Did he want Mystra to regret casting him aside? Or did he merely want to know that he’d done what had once felt impossible—find a way forward after losing very nearly everything he’d thought mattered to him?

He set Tara’s dinner down on the table and rubbed her ears affectionately. Tara offered him a brief but sincere purr before launching herself at the tuna. Gale was deep into chopping tomatoes for his own dinner when she spoke again.

“You’ve mentioned this Alys before, Mr. Dekarios. I gather that collaboration is going well?” She licked cream from her whiskers.

“Not just ‘well,’ Tara. It’s marvelous.” Gale felt himself light up at the subject. “Gods, she’s ingenious. She sees magic in ways that feel so strange to me, but then she explains it and somehow it all makes perfect sense. And the tools she creates! We wizards like to sneer at sorcerers over their flashy toys and shiny new spells, but what she’s built—it’s astonishing.” He slid the tomatoes neatly into a skillet, adding them to the eggplant already sizzling there. “I’ll be the first to admit I couldn’t do this without her. Of course, she’d say the same about me.”

“She sounds very interesting. For a mortal,” Tara said, her tone just a bit too casual. “You should bring her to dinner sometime.”

Gale winced. “Perhaps when I get the apartment in order.” He and Mystra had loved entertaining in their Waterdeep home, but that house had been elegant and coordinated and comfortable. His apartment still felt shabby in comparison. He’d finally unpacked all the boxes and hung most of his favorite art pieces, but he was painfully aware that the furniture was a messy hodgepodge, each piece chosen because it was easy to procure and not because it went with anything else. An uncomfortable modern sofa sat next to a scarred wooden coffee table with curved legs; his kitchen table was slightly too large for the space; none of the four bookshelves lining his living room matched any of the others. 

“I think it’s quite presentable myself,” Tara countered, looking around. “Different from what you had in Waterdeep, yes, but charming all the same. And besides, I’d like to know more about this Alys person if she’s going to be ruining my dinnertimes for months to come.”

Gale put down his spoon. “You don’t have to worry, Tara,” he said gently. “I’m not looking to repeat old patterns. Alys is just a friend. There’s nothing romantic between us.”

But even as he said it, he couldn’t help recalling a moment from earlier that day. He’d poured himself a glass of orange juice for breakfast, and its scent had reminded him of the perfume she wore, bright citrus and soft flowers, too subtle to smell unless he was standing right next to her.

It doesn’t mean anything, he assured himself. It’s a nice perfume. That’s all.

“I know you’re not one to fall to pieces over every pretty face, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara said, her eyes warm and affectionate. “I just—I can tell what this project means to you, and I hope you’ll forgive an old friend for wanting your collaborator to give you your due this time.”

Gale raised his eyebrows. “Give me my due? Do you feel Mystra didn’t?”

“Do you?” Tara countered innocently.

“I hate it when you do that, turn a question back around at me,” Gale grumbled, but without real resentment behind it. The truth was he’d been considering this very subject of late. He had felt overshadowed by Mystra, had worried that his fellow wizards looked at him and saw a man who had gotten where he was because his lover had put him there. 

When it all collapsed he’d blamed himself, blamed his ego for putting that idea in his head. Now he wondered if there had been more to it than just his own pride. Working with Alys had been very different from working with Mystra. The first time he’d voiced a disagreement with one of her suggestions, Gale had braced himself for a day or more of chilly treatment. Alys, however, had pressed him on his point until she understood his objection. Then, to his shock, she had agreed to try it his way. And when she asked for his opinion, it was a genuine question, not a test to see if he had anticipated the answer she wanted.

He’d known Mystra was the senior wizard in their collaborations, of course. But Gale had not realized how much he had waited for her lead, how often he had acted more like an assistant than a full partner, until he worked with someone who treated him as an equal.

“Well, I’m not working with Mystra any more. As for Alys—why don’t you come to my laboratory tomorrow and see for yourself?” he suggested impulsively. “You’re coming to my class anyway, and she and I have plans to do some work after that. I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

Tara tilted her head, considering. “Very well. But I warn you, Mr. Dekarios, my standards for the sort of person you ought to work with are high, and I shall not mince words when giving you my opinion.”

Gale laughed heartily as he turned off the heat beneath his pan. “Tara, there was no question in my mind that you would.”

When Alys arrived at Gale’s laboratory the next day, she was greeted with an unusual sight. Gale, of course, was already deeply absorbed in the day’s task—namely, packing up the fragments for transport across campus. But there was a cat sitting in the middle of the table, its bright green eyes fixed intently on the door.

Alys very nearly said “oooh, what a pretty kitty!” or something similarly asinine. Fortunately, she spotted the tressym’s wings just in time.

“Oh! You must be Tara,” she said instead, trying to hide her near-faux pas. She had never met a tressym before, but she knew they were an intelligent species and could understand mortal languages; she very much doubted one of them wanted to be called “kitty.”

“Alys!” Gale turned to her with his usual broad smile. “Yes, indeed. This is Tara, my oldest and dearest friend. She’s known me and put up with me since I was just a nipper. Tara, meet my collaborator, Alys Towerfell.”

Tara looked at Alys and blinked slowly. “Meow,” she said.

Gale gave the tressym a flat look. “She says she’s pleased to meet you,” he translated dryly, in a tone that suggested the translation was not quite literal.

“I’m pleased to meet you too, Tara,” Alys replied—though she felt a bit unsettled by the tressym’s obvious skepticism. “Do you come to campus often?”

“I gave a lecture on summonings today,” Gale explained, wrapping one of the fragments in a clean rag before tucking it into the foam bedding of the transport boxes. “Tara agreed to come as something of a visual aid. I believe many of the students snuck her treats afterwards.”

Tara curled up on the table with a very satisfied expression and purred loudly.

Alys smiled at the image of Tara feasting on whatever the students brought her. “Oh! Before I forget. Here.” She reached into the pocket and pulled out a key on a BGU keychain. “I got a copy of my laboratory key for you, since we’re moving the fragments there.”

Gale accepted it with a slightly startled expression on his face. “I’m suddenly feeling rather shamefaced,” he confessed, turning the key over in his hand. “I didn’t think to do the same for you. I should have.”

Alys waved the apology aside. “It hasn’t been an issue. Don’t worry about it. Can I help with the fragments?”

Gale nodded, a smile on his face. “Absolutely. Here. Why don’t you wrap while I pack?”

As Alys moved to Gale’s side, she could feel Tara’s eyes on her. She gathered that Tara was sizing her up, trying to decide if she was the sort of person her human ought to be working with. She had just decided not to say anything about the appraisal when Gale raised his eyebrow at the tressym. “Tara. I’m an adult working with a colleague, not a child on a playdate. Why don’t you watch some pigeons in the window?”

Tara sat in her spot for a moment longer, as if to show that she didn’t have to do what Gale asked, then walked with great nonchalance to the window Gale had pointed out.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Alys murmured.

“Tara is slow to warm to mortals,” Gale said, glancing at the tressym fondly. “But I am quite confident that if she disliked you, we would have much more dramatic evidence. She does not seem to care about the size of the room when she casts Fireball.”

Well. Alys supposed that was a bit reassuring.

The two of them worked side by side packing and moving the fragments all afternoon. Tara kept watch over them, and Alys tried not to let it unnerve her too much. But as the afternoon went on Tara seemed to relax. Her bright eyes were no longer narrowed with suspicion; she stopped watching Gale and Alys to stare out the window at some pigeons. She even bade Alys farewell with a “mew” that sounded almost polite.

When Gale and Tara left the laboratory, Alys drew in a deep breath and tried to steady her growing nerves. She had dinner plans that evening—and her dining companion’s scrutiny was probably going to make Tara’s look like mild curiosity.

“What about the Rashemen pinot? That was a wonderful vintage.”

Alys knew by now that when her mother suggested a wine, she should look at the bottom of the menu. She still flinched when she saw the cost. “Mom! That’s almost a week of my salary.”

“I’m treating, darling,” Cerise said breezily. As usual, Alys’s mother looked stunning, her dark hair pulled up in an elegant twist, the copper scales around her eyes a bright contrast with her fair skin. Cerise was a high half-elf, and so was aging more slowly than a human would; Alys wondered if their waiter would mistake them for sisters again tonight. “And you wouldn’t need to nickel and dime every evening out if you…”

“... came to work at Towerfell Constructs, the very successful corporation your great-great-grandmother built from the ground up, where generations of Towerfell draconic sorcerers have made their indelible mark on the world,” Alys finished wryly. 

“Oh good. You do listen to me.” Cerise’s eyes twinkled.

Alys thought about telling her mother that this sort of thing wasn’t just lighthearted banter for her, that she could feel the truth hidden behind what Cerise tried to pretend were jokes. But the Towerfells were a family that enjoyed teasing, and Cerise had grown up with six siblings. She had never been able to wrap her head around the idea that her serious only daughter did not enjoy being needled.

So Alys decided not to pursue that usual path of frustration. “You’re hard to ignore, Mom,” she said, trying to match her mother’s lighthearted tone. “And if the pinot looks good to you, I’m happy to share.” She narrowed her eyes at the menu, trying to parse the complicated descriptions of the dishes, half wishing she were back at the student union choosing her burrito toppings. Cerise always did this, always chose the fussiest and most expensive places she knew, as if trying to remind Alys what she was missing by not joining the family company.

Or maybe she just likes this restaurant, Alys reminded herself. Not everything is a swipe at you.

“So how are you settling in to Baldur's Gate, dearest?” Cerise asked once they had given the waiter their order.

“Very well.” Alys smiled. “I’d love for you to see my apartment—it’s just what I was looking for. And the university has been wonderful. I’m working on an exciting collaboration with a new colleague.”

“Oh, indeed?” Cerise asked, raising an eyebrow. “Anyone I’d know?”

Alys doubted it; Cerise kept up with the sorcery literature, but tended to focus on papers that were directly relevant to manufacturing. Gale’s antiquities work was unlikely to qualify. She answered anyway. “Gale Dekarios? He’s a wizard, he used to work at Waterdeep.”

“Waterdeep to BGU! That’s an unusual career move,” Cerise said skeptically. Then she blinked. “Wait. Not Mystra Ryll’s former partner?”

Alys nodded. “That’s him.” She felt herself bristle preemptively, unsure of where her mother was going with this.

“Gods, I hope he’s less tedious than she is,” Cerise said, frowning disapprovingly. “I met her a few years ago when I accepted that honorary degree. I’ve never had a more tiresome conversation with a more self-satisfied person.”

Alys relaxed. “Don’t worry. He’s been wonderful to work with.”

“I’m glad to hear it, dear.” Cerise paused for a moment, considering the menu. “Though I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that you would also have wonderful collaborators at Towerfell Constructs.”

Alys drew a deep breath and decided to let that go. Fortunately, the waiter chose that moment to bring their extremely overpriced wine, saving her from finding another reply.

“Well?” Gale asked Tara wryly over dinner—roast chicken for both of them. “I’m certain you have an opinion on Alys. You may as well share it.”

Tara raised a paw and licked it. “I found Professor Towerfell… unobjectionable,” the tressym said primly.

“Coming from you, that’s high praise,” Gale laughed, setting his fork down. “In fact, I believe the only other person you’ve deemed ‘unobjectionable’ is my mother.”

“That is untrue, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara said indignantly. “Your mother and I got on from the moment you summoned me. And I’ve found many of your colleagues tolerable.” She ruffled her wings. “I am simply saying that I see no reason not to continue the collaboration. And that I am glad you have a friend.”

Gale thought about replying that he’d had plenty of friends back in Waterdeep. But the parties they had thrown had been filled with Mystra’s admirers; they were people who came to their house to bask in her reflected glory, not people he could share dinner with at the student union. Certainly no one he could call for support when his life came crashing down around his ears. His only company in that long, lonely year after the breakup had been Tara and his mother.

He picked up his fork, but then set it down again and looked over at Tara. “You never liked Mystra, did you?”

Gale wasn’t certain why he asked that. It was something he’d been avoiding asking for a decade and a half. Tara had refrained from casting Fireball at Mystra, and had always congratulated Gale when he and Mystra accomplished something impressive, but she had never said a warm word about Mystra herself, had never used Common with Mystra as she did with Morena. Gale had deliberately not put himself in the position of pushing his oldest friend to admit she disliked his life partner. But he was certain that Tara had taken Mystra’s measure as carefully as she’d just taken Alys’s, and suddenly, it felt very important to know just how the tressym had felt about his ex-lover.

Tara let out a little harrumph. “Oh, are you seeking my advice on this now ?” she asked tartly. “It seems a bit late for my words of wisdom on the matter, Mr. Dekarios.” 

“Call it a search for perspective,” Gale replied. “We avoided the subject when she and I were together, I think. But I gathered you didn’t approve.”

Tara paused for a long moment. “I did not like the way she treated you, Mr. Dekarios,” she said finally. “She went out of her way to make you feel small, as if she had given you some great gift by bestowing her attention upon you. And every time you disagreed, she seemed to get her way, whether the subject was research or dinner plans or the question of marriage. So no, I did not enjoy her company.” Tara let out a haughty, dismissive sniff. “I daresay the sentiment was reciprocated. She consistently referred to me as a cat. Can you imagine?”

Gale chuckled—but then frowned. There wasn’t a remark alive that would have needled Tara more than being called a cat, and Mystra of all people would know what a tressym was. 

“I didn’t realize she was rude to you,” he said, shamefaced, after a long pause.

“Oh, we each got in our little digs,” Tara said airily. “What do you think really happened to her favorite scarves all those times she lost them?” She looked fondly across the table at Gale. “Don’t give it another thought, Mr. Dekarios. I can hold my own with the likes of Mystra Ryll.”

Gale chuckled as he stood to clear the plates from the table. “I know you can, Tara.”

With the dishes done, he settled into his favorite armchair and reached for the Netherese grimoire he’d been reading at night as of late. It was only a copy, not an original, but it was focused on artifacts, and every page yielded some fascinating new detail. Tara curled up in his lap contentedly as he turned the pages, and Gale felt deep peace settle over him. It was not the same as his favorite reading nook in Waterdeep, the bench overlooking the water, but he could not avoid the thought that he was as utterly content as he’d been in years.

Then he turned one more page and sat up so forcefully that Tara yowled in protest.

The page he was looking at bore the illustration of an artifact, a metal ellipse with a sharp point at one vertex and open at the other. Five curved spires rose from it, and three jewels were placed around the central spire.

Good gods. That’s—that’s our artifact.

More specifically, it looked almost exactly like one of the possible shapes Alys’s program had generated. With shaking fingers, Gale ran his hand down the page to the caption.

The Crown of Karsus.

All he could do was stare as his breath filled his ears, noisy and uneven and excited. He felt half out of his own body with shock. Every wizard who knew anything about Netherese magic knew about the Crown of Karsus. It had been a magical amplifier, the first in recorded history—there were newer and simpler amplifier technologies now, of course, but the artifact’s fame and its historical significance could not be denied.

And it might be sitting in pieces in Alys Towerfell’s laboratory.

Gale knew he shouldn’t dive back into this history. He knew he should leave the archives of his email inbox alone. But he could not seem to stop himself from seizing his phone and searching his email for a phrase that had burned itself into his brain.

Search for: “uninteresting junk”

A moment later, there it was. 

Gale–
I have taken a look at the artifacts you brought home from the excavation. I am sorry to tell you that they are worthless, uninteresting junk.
Studying them would be a waste of our time. I do not intend to discuss this again.
M

Gale rubbed a hand over his face as his heartbeat sped and his mind raced. Gods. He’d been right. Right about it all. Right to take an interest in these artifacts, right to want to pursue this project, right to continue his work even after Mystra told him not to.

And Mystra Ryll, new head curator at the Museum of Magical Antiquities, had had the find of the century under her nose and had deemed it “junk.” If word got out that she’d looked at these fragments and shipped them off to Baldur’s Gate without a second thought, it would be devastating to her reputation. Meanwhile, Gale could use that reconstructed crown to build a career that would rival and surpass hers. Waterdeep might want him back. The Museum’s board might even offer him Mystra’s job.

He drew a breath to steady himself. First things first, Gale. Rebuild it. Prove that it is what you think. You cannot afford to rush into any grand claims.

Another thought occurred to him. I should talk to Alys. If I’m suffering from delusions of grandeur, she’ll be the first to tell me.

He snapped a photo of the book and sent her a text message.

GD: Please tell me if I’m imagining things. But I can’t help thinking this looks rather like one of your program’s suggestions?

The reply came slowly, and Gale began to feel anxiety build. Hell and damnation. Had he just made a complete idiot out of himself? Was Alys struggling with how to let him down gently, how to tell him that of course they had not spent that afternoon wrapping the legendary Crown of Karsus in his old t-shirts?

But just as Gale’s anxiety was beginning to turn to panic, the phone rang.

“Gale! I’m so sorry. I was at dinner.” He could hear wind whipping past the speaker of Alys’s phone. She was speaking quickly, her excitement clear. “That does look like the program’s third model. But I—gods, could it really be the Crown of Karsus? I don’t have your background in Netherese history, but even I’ve heard of the Crown.”

“I don’t want to get ahead of myself,” Gale said, trying to temper his rising hope. “Perhaps it’s just a replica. I’ll have to date it to be certain. But a Netherese replica of the Crown would still be a major find.” He let out an exhilarated little laugh. “I suppose all we can do is piece it together and see what we think. But my gods, I cannot wait to get started.”

“I can’t either.” He could hear the smile in Alys’s voice. “I have my usual nine o’clock class tomorrow morning, but I’ll be there right afterwards.”

“I’ll meet you at ten, then. In the meantime, I apologize for interrupting your evening.” He cleared his throat as a thought occurred to him, one that he did not find entirely pleasant. “You had another date, I take it?”

On his lap, Tara lifted her head, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she looked at Gale.

“Dinner with my mother,” Alys replied. “The only possible occasion that could cause me more stress.”

There was an edge of irritation in her voice, and Gale felt himself frown. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. I take it that’s a difficult relationship?”

Alys sighed. “It’s—complicated. She loves me and I love her. But there’s a reason we’ve been living in the same city for three months and I still haven’t spent much time with her. She doesn’t entirely approve of my career.”

Gale blinked in shock. “I must admit I find that hard to fathom,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re fantastic at what you do.”

“It’s not a question of whether I’m good at it, unfortunately,” Alys said wryly. “If Cerise had her way I’d be locked in a corner office at Towerfell Constructs building the next generation of magical popcorn-making machines. Not rebuilding ancient artifacts on a professor’s salary.” 

Gale supposed that made more sense, but he was suddenly very glad that Morena had not pushed him to follow any particular path. And even more glad that Alys had forged her own. “Well, I can see why she’d want your talent on her team. But selfishly, I’m rather glad you chose the ivory tower.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. When Alys spoke again, her voice was warm. “That means a great deal, Gale Dekarios. Thank you.”

“Was your father there too?” Gale asked idly, trying to remember what he’d heard about Cerise Towerfell’s partner.

“No.” The word came after a pause, and was pronounced carefully, as if Alys wasn't certain what she wanted to convey with that “no.” Gale nearly apologized for prying—he never mentioned his own father and there was a damn good reason for it—but after a beat, she continued.

“He and my mom were something of a fling. He's been there at graduations and birthday parties, and he takes me to lunch from time to time, but it's Mom who raised me.” She laughed. “Some of my earliest memories are of coloring books on the floor of the boardroom at Towerfell Constructs.”

Gale smiled at the mental image of a tiny Alys with a crayon clutched in her hand, coloring with the same intensity and focus he knew from their work together.

“Well. I can sympathize with having a slightly absent father figure,” he said, stroking a hand down Tara's back. Tara’s purr sounded disapproving. There were few, if any, mortals that she disliked quite so much as Gale’s father. “My father left my mother when I was eight. He tried for a bit to keep up appearances—sent birthday cards, called on occasion—but over time he more or less faded away. Mother never said a word against him, but I gather he found fatherhood difficult. He preferred to be the center of attention.”

Even as he told the story, he felt a sense of surprise, almost wonder. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shared this with anyone else. It wasn't the sort of thing that tended to come up at department meetings or cocktail parties. But gods, there was just something about Alys that felt… comfortable. Safe.

He realized, then, something that should have been obvious. I like her. A great deal. 

Perhaps too much for my own good.

Alys made a low, disapproving noise at the other end of the line. “Bah. Tell me if you ever do hear from him. I’ve got some thoughts to share,” she said tartly. 

Gale chuckled. “I appreciate the thought. But… I ought to let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten?”

He couldn't see her, but something in her voice told him that Alys Towerfell was smiling. “I look forward to it immensely.”

Chapter Text

“Are we ready to press ‘submit’?” 

Alys and Gale were sitting side-by-side at Gale’s desk staring at Gale’s computer screen, which showed the draft of their abstract for the Annual Meeting on Magical Studies. Writing that abstract had been a bit agonizing. They were both perfectionists and had wrung their hands over every phrase, every comma. But the result was something Alys was confident would be accepted and placed on the program.

Gale frowned speculatively. “Perhaps we should edit it just once more…”

“Gale. We have gone back and forth about each and every one of these two hundred words. And if you change the title or keywords again I might scream,” Alys said dryly.

Gale laughed. “Fair enough. Yes. Let’s press submit.”

With a deep breath, he clicked the blue box in the corner of the screen. Their painstakingly edited abstract vanished from the screen, replaced by an image confirming that their submission to the AMMS had been received and would be evaluated in due course.

Alys frowned nervously. “Did we undersell the paper? Perhaps we should have put ‘Crown of Karsus’ in the title. I can still message the program committee if we want to change it.”

Gale nudged her elbow with his playfully. “What happened to ‘if you change the title again I might scream’?”

Alys smiled, shaking her head in acknowledgement of her hypocrisy. “I know, I know. But… Gale. What we’re doing is so exciting. ‘New techniques and conclusions from the reconstruction of an unknown Netherese artifact’ doesn’t exactly scream ‘groundbreaking.’” She sighed. “On the other hand, I’ve always heard you should under-promise and over-deliver rather than the reverse. And we still haven’t confirmed that it’s the original Crown. We’ll know by the time we present in April, but it would be mortifying to make the claim and be wrong.”

“Just so.” Gale nodded once, decisively. “I think our abstract is excellent, I think it will be accepted, and I think that in April we will stun the magical community by revealing that we have rebuilt history’s most famous Netherese artifact.” He beamed. “And we’ll get a University-sponsored trip to Waterdeep out of the arrangement, to boot.”

Alys smiled slightly, unsure of what to say. It had not escaped her notice that the AMMS was going to be held in Waterdeep this year. She had to assume many of Gale’s former colleagues would be in the audience at their talk. Perhaps even Mystra Ryll. And she could not shake the suspicion that the presentation was going to be the first step in Gale’s journey back to his former university. With Mystra now at the Museum of Magical Antiquities, the Wizardry department at Waterdeep would no longer be an awkward home—and she could sense Gale’s longing for his old city every time he mentioned it. The abstract was the obvious and necessary next step for them, but it felt bittersweet, something like the beginning of an end to their collaboration.

Maybe the Waterdeep Sorcery department would be interested in me, she thought. But she discarded the idea almost as soon as it popped into her head. Following a crush to a new city was, objectively, an absurd idea. Besides, Waterdeep was a famously cutthroat university, high-pressure and full of the kind of academic intrigue that made Alys want to rip her hair out in annoyance. Even if they made the offer she wouldn’t move.

Gale’s deep brown eyes searched her face, curious and just a bit concerned. “There’s something on your mind. What is it?”

“Sorry. End-of-semester stress,” Alys lied quickly. “Exams, grading, the usual.” She didn’t like lying to Gale, but she also didn’t see a good reason to tell him that she hated the thought of him leaving. He might be her collaborator, but she had no reasonable claim on his career decisions—and her unrequited crush was her problem, not his.

“Well. I can certainly understand that,” Gale said with a sigh. “I’m avoiding my email until after we’ve done our afternoon’s work, but I’m sure my inbox is filled with requests for extensions and…”

Whatever else might be waiting for him in his inbox went unnamed, however. Gale’s words were suddenly drowned out by a voice from the office next door.

“You absolute dolt! You utter simpleton! Have you any idea how many months—years—of work you’ve ruined with your incompetence?!”

Alys was only scarcely aware of standing up and running from the room. Gale was right beside her as she rushed to the neighboring office. 

“Professor, I performed the work exactly as you instructed,” a second voice protested, calmer but still strained, almost desperate. “I documented every step, every observation. The data I collected…”

“Is utter trash ! I ought to throw you out onto the streets!” shrieked the first voice. “This is my thanks for offering you a post in my lab?”

Alys pushed open the door. Lorroakan Athkatla was standing behind his desk, his face almost purple as he shook a laboratory notebook in his hand. On the other side of the desk, clearly frightened but holding his ground, stood Rolan.

As Alys gaped in shock, Lorroakan threw the notebook at Rolan. It was not an idle toss, and it was not a mistake; Lorroakan threw with aim and intent, and it would have hurt had it landed. But Alys snapped her fingers and spoke a word, and her hastily summoned Mage Hand was just in time. It caught the notebook four inches in front of Rolan’s face.

“I suggest,” Gale said icily behind her, “that you reconsider throwing objects at your collaborators, Lorroakan.”

“This idiot is not my collaborator. He is my student, and he is an utter embarrassment to the concept of wizardry,” Lorroakan snarled, jabbing a finger at Rolan. “He has destroyed months’ worth of work with his ineptitude. Look at his absurd data for yourself if you don’t believe me. I can’t publish this! My theories clearly predict the opposite of what he claims he observed.”

“Have you considered that Rolan’s data may be correct and your theories are wrong?” Alys snapped. “Because that seems the likeliest possibility to me.”

Lorroakan turned his glare towards her. “You again. Gods, don’t you ever pester anyone in your own department?” he sneered. “Oh, but I forgot. You’ve hitched yourself to that one’s ragged coattails.” He jerked his chin at Gale. “You’re both pathetic. Now get out of my office. All three of you. Or I’ll call campus security and have you removed by force.” He pointed at Rolan. “And I want new, corrected data on my desk by this time next week. Holiday break be damned. You’re working through it to correct what you’ve spoiled.”

Rolan reached forward and snatched the notebook from Alys’s Mage Hand. He stalked out of the room, half shoving Alys and Gale out the door before he closed it behind him.

Then he turned to them, his bright eyes blazing. “Gods, why did you two have to stick your noses into my business again? I had that under control!” he snapped, his voice low and furious.

“That outburst wasn’t yours to control, Rolan,” Gale said. Despite Rolan’s angry tone, his voice was gentle and calm. He met Rolan’s gaze seriously, with concern but no judgment. “Lorroakan’s behavior towards you is both unhinged and unacceptable.”

“He is… strict.” Rolan swallowed, his throat bobbing visibly. “But without his sponsorship, I could not have come here from Elturel, or brought my siblings. We are done for if he expels me from the program.” His eyes narrowed. “An outcome the two of you just made more than likely.”

“You should switch advisors, then,” Alys said bluntly. “That man is ruining your career, not helping you build it.” 

“I came here to work with the best,” Rolan snapped. “And you’re not seriously proposing I transfer to Sorcery. ”

“I’m certain there are others in the Wizardry department who could advise you. I could speak to Elminster…” Gale began.

“Don’t you dare,” Rolan hissed. “If Elminster asks, I will deny anything you tell him. Stay out of my business. Both of you. And keep your advice on how to live my life to yourselves.”

He spun on his heel and began half-running down the hallway. Alys felt helplessness rise within her as she watched him go. She struggled for something to say, some way to help him—because, though Rolan claimed not to want the help, she could not imagine just standing by and letting Lorroakan continue to torment the tiefling. Gods, Lorroakan was the worst sort of academic bully, blaming his failures and incompetence on the students whose careers he was supposed to nurture, and Alys was practically seeing red at the thought of Rolan continuing under his supervision. 

But she had been in Rolan’s shoes once, or something like them, and she knew just how unwelcome an intervention from on high would be.

Behind her, Gale spoke up. “Rolan. My door is always open. Please, if there is ever anything I can do… well, you know where to find me.”

Rolan paused. It was just a quick pause, and he did not turn around before resuming his walk down the hall. But Alys knew he had heard, and it gave her hope.

Gale and Alys collected their things from Gale’s office and walked to the Sorcery building in silence. Alys’s mouth was tight, her shoulders stiff; she shut the door to her lab so hard that it rattled a bit in the frame. 

A show of temper was so unlike her that Gale could not stop himself from asking, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Alys said, her voice clipped. “It’s Rolan who needs help. But—gods, he said not to do anything, which leaves us with almost no options.” She crossed the room and rested her hands on a laboratory bench, her fingers tightening against its surface.

“Do you really think he would deny what Lorroakan has been putting him through?” Gale asked curiously. “Perhaps I could approach Elminster anyway. Rolan strikes me as an honest sort of person—surely he wouldn’t lie to protect Lorroakan.”

“I wouldn’t take the chance.” Alys shook her head ruefully. “People lied to protect my first advisor all the time.”

Gale met Alys’s eyes as she turned to look at him. He blinked in astonishment. “Gods, Alys. What—what happened?”

She sighed. “It was a long time ago. But… the man I thought I was going to work with for my PhD turned out to be a nightmare. He treated most of his students all right, but every year, he’d single out one or two to torment. He’d humiliate them in seminars, assign them the worst projects and hardest tasks, scream at them in the middle of the lab over the smallest mistake.” She drew a deep breath. “And… he picked me. My first day in his lab, he told me that I probably expected special treatment because of my mother, but he wasn’t going to let a trust fund princess ruin the reputation of his lab. I thought I’d just have to prove myself, show him that I belonged there, but it wasn’t long before I realized that he was never actually going to give me that chance.”

Gale’s breath froze in his chest. Alys was so composed, so skilled, so wonderful at what she did. The idea that she’d had to fight past someone like that to get here made him vaguely sick.

“That’s awful,” he said, because he could not think of anything else to say.

“It didn’t last long, at least not for me. My second semester there, I gathered my courage and transferred to another advisor,” Alys continued, squaring her shoulders defiantly. “But I won’t pretend that my family name didn’t make a difference in how the department handled things. They were sure I had my mother’s lawyers on speed-dial.” She let out a low, bitter laugh. “The irony, of course, is that I would have rather set myself on fire than called my mother for help. I never would have heard the end of it from her.” 

In other words, she’d been without real support. Gale’s heart tore. “Oh, Alys.” Half unthinking, he reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder, squeezing it gently in support.

“It all worked out for me. My second advisor was wonderful. And at the end of the day, I would have been fine if I’d had to leave the program,” she continued, the words rushed, as if she couldn’t bear to hear sympathy. “Rolan’s on a visa from Elturel. I had options he doesn’t.”

Gale blew out a breath in acknowledgement of the point. Lorroakan had even more power over Rolan than an advisor usually had over his graduate students. “It is a delicate situation, to be sure,” he said, frowning. “But I promise you, Alys—I will keep my eye on it. If Lorroakan is willing to treat a student so shamefully, I am certain he is engaging in other misdeeds. Perhaps there is a way to deal with him without involving Rolan.”

He realized, then, that his hand was still resting on her shoulder. With considerable reluctance, he withdrew it—but not before having the small, hopeful thought that Alys had not seemed to mind.

Alys nodded resolutely. “I may ask my neighbor Shadowheart for advice, as well. She mentioned her own advisor was difficult. She might have ideas that we haven’t thought of yet.” She met Gale’s gaze. “Thank you for listening. I didn’t mean to drag you through my old grudges.”

Gale could not help a soft chuckle. “Alys. You have listened to me reflect on my career path more than once. What sort of friend would I be if I could not return the favor?” He felt his voice turn serious. “And whatever grudge you might bear was well-earned.”

Alys’s lips quirked upwards. “It was, wasn’t it?” She drew a deep breath. “Well. Shall we turn our attention to more exciting matters?”

Gale rubbed his hands together in undisguised anticipation. “Yes. I’ve been practicing what we worked on, and I cannot wait to see it come together.”

They had been working to get to this point all month, combining Alys’s technical expertise with Gale’s knowledge of Netherese magic and materials to create the spell. The next steps would be difficult and delicate. Alys was going to use her magic to fuse the metal pieces back together. As she did so, Gale would reconnect the lines of the spell, trying to restore the flow of Weave through the object. It was a technique Alys had been working on for years, and she had used it successfully on broken modern constructs, but she had never worked the magic with a partner before. The complexity of the Crown’s spellwork, however, made tandem spellcasting a necessity.

At his side, Alys drew a deep breath. “Well. Shall we give it a try?”

Gale nodded resolutely. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say.”

Alys cast her spell first, sending magic flooding into the metal of the two fragments they were working with, pushing their edges together. Gale sent his own magic into the orange lines of Weavework revealed by Alys’s imaging device, sending the broken lines reaching towards one another, knitting them back together. Gale could feel Alys’s magic sliding over his, bright and sharp and precise. He could feel her skill and talent in every scrap of Weave, could feel how carefully she’d honed her abilities, and it made him admire her all the more.

He wondered how his magic felt to her.

And then, suddenly, there was only one fragment, a combination of the two they had started with, with bright orange lines of connected Weavework shining in the field of Alys’s device. 

Alys grinned in delight, half-bouncing on her toes. “It worked. It really worked!”

Gale reached for her shoulder and grasped it in excitement. “Of course it worked. Your technique is perfection itself.”

“I didn’t dare to dream it would be that easy.” Alys turned to him, her Drow-lilac eyes shining in delight. “Gods, you’re good at this.”

Her magic was still tangled with his, still bright and warm and shining. Gale knew he could drop his spell, knew the reunited fragments no longer needed their power flowing through them—but he could not bring himself to be the one to break the connection. He just felt so alive with her power twined in his, a touch even more intimate than the first holding of hands between two lovers. He could feel her emotions through her magic, could feel the Weave connecting them.

And suddenly, an image filled his mind. Alys was leaning forward to kiss him. It was a gentle kiss, a tender exploration, but it deepened quickly, turning openmouthed and passionate as he pulled her to him. It was just the sort of kiss Gale had tried to stop himself from imagining for months, but now, he could not think of anything he wanted more than to taste her mouth, feel her body against his, slide his fingers into her curls and tilt her head back to kiss her throat. 

She was incredible. Extraordinary. And trying to ignore it had been a hopeless task.

Beside him, Alys let out an alarmed squeak.

Oh. Oh, gods! She can see this!

Gale felt embarrassment flood through him. He opened his mouth to apologize. But Alys spoke first, her cheeks visibly crimson even through the dark slate of her skin. “I—shit! Oh hells, Gale. I’m sorry.”

Only then did Gale realize that the image in his head had originated not with him, but with her. 

Embarrassment turned to elation just before Alys dropped the threads of her magic, leaving Gale with a painful sense of loneliness. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, stepping back, putting space between them. “I didn’t mean to— fuck. Fucking damn hells, I’m so sorry.”

Gale didn’t think he’d ever heard Alys swear before. He’d certainly never seen her so off-balance, so much at a loss for words. Her eyes were huge and wide and alarmed, and as she pressed a hand over her mouth he could see it tremble.

She thinks I’ll be upset, he realized with some surprise. She thinks I’m offended by what I saw. 

He wondered if there was a mortal alive stupid enough to be offended by the idea that Alys Towerfell desired them.

“Alys! Gods, please don’t look like that,” he pleaded. “It’s all right. It’s more than all right. In fact, I—I should apologize as well.” He cleared his throat. “To tell the truth I was not certain if that image originated in your mind, or mine.” He offered her a tentative smile. “It is a very pleasant image, to be sure.”

Alys dropped her hand from her face. “I—oh,” she said, blinking. Her brows drew together. “Are you saying—wait. Are you attracted to me?”

Gale let out a sharp, amused laugh. How very like her, to jump straight to the point. “Alys Towerfell. You’re absurdly talented, astonishingly beautiful, and delightful company. I think it would be more remarkable if I weren’t attracted to you,” he said wryly. “If anyone ought to be surprised, it’s me. I had no idea you thought of me that way.”

Alys laughed nervously. “I suppose I’m relieved you had no idea. I wasn’t certain how well I was hiding it.” She drew a breath. Her blush was still crimson, but she was beginning to smile a bit, and he could hear a hopeful note in her voice when she spoke again.

“Gale. I know us being collaborators, colleagues, might make things more fraught. But… would you be interested? In, ah, going out on a date?”

Gale’s first instinct was to say yes. How could it not be, with the image of himself kissing Alys still bright in his mind? Gale was not someone who felt attraction frequently, but when he experienced it, it burned bright and hot within him, and he didn’t think it had ever felt more all-consuming than it did now. He thought of the imaginary kiss with longing. He wanted that intimacy, wanted that warmth. He wanted her, all her brilliance and intensity and passion. He could only imagine what those qualities would be like in his arms, in his bed. 

But… Gods. It was not all that many months ago that Gale had been longingly staring at Mystra’s photograph on his phone, that he’d spent days and nights imagining just the right words to make Mystra forgive him. Alys Towerfell deserved nothing less than all of him. Nothing less than his best. And Gale knew that he was far from at his best right now.

“Alys. I—I am flattered. Deeply. And not uninterested. But I—it has been a difficult year.” He swallowed. “I was with Mystra for over a decade. When she ended things between us, it—to tell the truth, it shattered me. In many ways I am still recovering, both personally and professionally. I worry about rushing into something new. About whether I could be the kind of person who ought to be dating someone like you.” He felt his mouth quirked in an anxious not-quite-smile. “And I would not want to ruin things between us by being less than all you should have.”

Disappointment flared in Alys’s eyes—but there was empathy behind it. She drew a deep breath, visibly steadying herself. Gale realized, suddenly, that he had just seen Alys Towerfell without her poise and polish, open and vulnerable and close to coming apart at the seams.

The selfish part of him wanted to see it again. Wondered if she would come apart for him if he kissed her right now. 

But before his thoughts could wander too far down that path, she spoke. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Gale,” she said quietly. “I get to decide what I deserve, and whether someone I’m seeing is offering it. For the record, I would feel lucky to date you. But if you aren’t ready to date again, I understand.” Her eyes met his seriously, earnestly. “The last thing I’d want to do is pressure you, or make you feel uncomfortable. So I won’t say another word about this. Just know the offer is open—for now. Otherwise, I’m very glad to have you as my collaborator. As my friend.”

For just a moment, Gale thought about telling her he’d been an idiot. Thought about asking her to go for a drink with him, letting the drink lead to a kiss, throwing caution to the wind and taking the opportunity in front of him. But in typical fashion, Alys had put her finger right on his problem. Much as he liked her, as attractive as he found her, he wasn’t ready to risk his heart again.

“You are an extraordinary person,” he said softly. “Thank you. For everything you said. I cannot tell you what it means to me.” He cleared his throat. “Should we—ah. Should we continue the work? Or set it aside for now, given—well, given.”

Alys’s eyes sparked mischievously. “That depends. Do you think you can keep your dirty thoughts to yourself this time?”

“My dirty thoughts?” Gale let out a loud, deep laugh. “I thought that was your imagination earlier.”

“You said you weren’t sure,” Alys reminded him, her tone teasing. “So I’m choosing to blame it on you.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Let’s try again. Now that we know what to expect, I’m sure it will be easier for you to control yourself.” She cleared her throat sheepishly. “And by ‘you’ I mean ‘me.’”

Gale chuckled as he began preparing to cast the spell again. But he could not help the thought that Alys had it exactly backwards. That it would be far more difficult for him to conceal his emotions and desires in the Weave, knowing that she shared them. 

For her, though, he would try.

Chapter Text

The moment Alys pushed open the door to her apartment, she kicked her high heels into a corner with a long groan. Despite being billed as a “casual family event,” her mother’s mid-January birthday brunch was always a dress-to-the-nines kind of occasion. One year Alys had shown up in her usual slacks and flats and two of her cousins had teased her about becoming a “frumpy professor.” After that she’d stuck to cocktail dresses. She knew by now there was no chance of her family keeping their mouths shut, and it wasn’t worth the energy of getting annoyed with them.

Even if it meant her feet hurt for an hour or two afterwards.

This year’s brunch hadn’t been terrible. Alys knew by now how to dance through a conversation to avoid any discussion of her own life or career, how to keep the focus on her family’s latest business deal or patent application. But gods, it was nice to be back in the silence and peace of her own space.

As she hung her coat in her closet, her phone buzzed inside the little clutch she’d brought to brunch. Her first thought, of course, was Gale.

Followed by Dear gods, get a grip on yourself, woman.

Alys was still more than a little embarrassed about the way she’d let her control slip in December. Knowing that Gale was not offended—that he found the image he’d seen appealing—helped temper her mortification, but it also made moving on from that moment more difficult. If he’d had told her that he wasn’t interested, she thought she could have shut the door on her crush. Hearing that he was attracted to her but not ready to do something about it put her in an agonized state of half-hope. She wanted to keep things professional, to give him space. But she couldn’t help wondering if he’d thought about her over the holidays. If he might decide he was ready to take a chance after all.

Stop , she told herself firmly. You’re acting like a damn teenager. Assume it’s a no unless he says otherwise, and keep your focus on your work. And it’s probably not even him texting.

But to her surprise, it was.

GD: Check your email!
GD: Apologies, I did not mean to be cryptic. Our abstract was accepted. I forwarded you the notice. We’re presenting Saturday morning—a good slot I believe.

Suddenly, Alys’s feet didn’t hurt any more.

She felt her entire face brighten as she opened her email. There it was—the official acceptance email, including the time slot for their talk. This was it. She was going to get to share her techniques with the magical community, going to be able to show everyone that what she’d developed worked and worked well, even for something as complex as a shattered Netherese artifact.

AT: This is wonderful! 
AT: And yes, that’s a great time slot. I was afraid we’d get Sunday, when everyone is hung over from the reception the night before.

There was a brief pause, then three dots began bouncing at the bottom of her screen.

GD: Do you want to meet tomorrow to begin planning our presentation, and perhaps outline a paper to submit to a journal?
GD: I want to double-check my work dating the artifact, and I know we still need to finish the reconstruction, but we could certainly begin writing up the parts on the magical methodology.
AT: I have to teach at one, but I’m free before then. I’ll come to your office at 9?
GD: That would be perfect. I’ll see you then.
GD: And—happy New Year, Alys.

Alys felt the corner of her mouth quirk up.

For a moment, she thought about asking about his holiday, how it had been to see his mother again, whether Tara had gotten him another sweater this year. But the longer this conversation went, the more she would hope that it would turn into something else. And that wasn’t fair to Gale—or to her. So she typed just one more line.

AT: Happy New Year to you too!

Then she flicked to a different chain of texts and typed out a message.

AT: Are you headed to the gym this afternoon?
LK: Yes.
LK: Are you asking if you can join?

Alys chuckled; she couldn’t blame Lae’zel for being uncertain. The last time she’d worked out with Lae’zel she’d barely made it through three-quarters of her friend’s usual circuit, and still left the gym drenched in sweat and aching in places she didn’t even know had muscles. She knew she wasn’t ever going to match the githyanki’s natural athleticism, but she enjoyed a challenge. And it would definitely take her mind off both the brunch and her feelings for Gale.

AT: What can I say, I’m in the mood to get my ass kicked.
LK: Very well. I will see you there at three.

 

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight.”

Gale looked up from his phone and blinked. Astarion was watching him from behind the bar at Moonlight, his handsome face curious.

“And you’ve got your face in your phone, not a book,” Wyll added, taking a sip of the wine Astarion had just poured. “Is everything all right? I don’t mean to pry.”

“I, on the other hand, do mean to pry. And the answer to Wyll’s question is obviously no, ” Astarion added cheerfully, pouring himself a glass and swirling it around with an expert hand. “So out with it, Professor. You’re clearly trying to decode some text messages. Who are they from?”

Gale clicked the button to shut off his phone screen, wincing with embarrassment. The truth was, after the brief exchange with Alys about their abstract, he had spent the rest of the afternoon in a vague state of disquiet. He kept opening the thread of texts with Alys, scanning her words, trying to read between the lines.

The only thing he could conclude was that Alys was keeping her word. She had not brought up, or even hinted at, the possibility of them dating again. Her messages were friendly, even warm, but strictly in the realm of colleagues and friends, without a whisper of flirtation. And it was driving Gale mad.

He twirled the stem of the wine glass through his fingers. “They’re from a colleague. Before the break, she asked me on a date.”

“And you said…?” Astarion prompted.

“I said no.” Gale heaved a sigh. “At the time I was sure it was the right choice. And yet… and yet I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Wyll frowned contemplatively. “What made it the right decision? You don’t feel that way about her?”

“I actually find Alys quite attractive.” That felt like an insufficient way to describe what he thought of Alys Towerfell, but it was basically accurate, so he continued. “But I moved to Baldur’s Gate because I’d gotten out of a long relationship. I was in a bad way when I arrived here. And my colleague is an impressive woman. I can’t imagine her wanting to date someone who wore the same pair of pajama pants for a year straight.”

“So… she asked you out, and you somehow talked yourself into thinking that means she doesn’t want to date you?” Astarion asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s not quite how I got there,” Gale protested. He let out a breath. “I just—she’s extraordinary. I didn’t want to waste my chance by rushing into something when I’m not at my best.”

“One could argue,” Wyll said thoughtfully, “that saying ‘no’ was a waste of a chance.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gale sighed. “I spent my whole trip back to Waterdeep wondering if I should tell her I’d made a mistake, ask if she’d see me when I returned. But… my ex-girlfriend was also a collaborator. Dating Alys would make that something of a pattern for me. Am I merely reaching for the familiar? Alys deserves so much better than that.”

“Oh, Gale. Please don’t. The whole ‘I’m not good enough for them’ routine is so tiresome,” Astarion said dryly. “When someone out of your league is inexplicably attracted to you, you ought to just accept your good luck. Like Wyll here did.”

“I beg your pardon!” Wyll protested, laughing. “That is not how I remember our courtship.”

“Our courtship? ” Astarion heaved a theatrical sigh. “Gods. How did I fall in love with a man who uses the word ‘courtship’ unironically?” 

“How did the two of you meet?” Gale asked, partly to get the attention off himself, partly because he was curious.

“It’s quite the tale.” Astarion flashed a smile at Wyll. “Shall I tell it?”

“By all means,” Wyll said gallantly, gesturing towards his lover. “I’d like to hear your version of events.”

“All right, then. About five years ago we struck up a conversation at a bar. I was trying to pick him up, of course, but he responded with all this noble, moody nonsense about how he dreamed of romance, not an anonymous one-night stand.” Astarion rolled his eyes playfully at Wyll. “For some reason I kept talking to him after that. It turned out we were both working for absolutely dreadful bosses, so we had quite a lot in common.” 

Gale glanced over at Wyll, wondering how accurate Astarion’s version of events was, but thus far Wyll just looked pleased at the tale.

Astarion’s eyes flickered over to Wyll’s empty wine glass; he reached for the bottle of wine and continued the story as he poured. “To make a long story short, our Wyll here has friends in high places. He helped me pass on some rather incriminating tax documents to the right people and my boss got what was coming to him. I returned the favor by finding a loophole or two in his contract and getting him out of his ghastly job. By that time he was madly in love with me, and he is incredibly handsome, so I took pity on him and offered to take him out on a date. A proper, romantic, non-anonymous one.”

Gale laughed. “Wyll? Your rebuttal?”

“Actually, that’s fairly accurate.” Wyll took Astarion’s hand and kissed the knuckles fondly. A little twist of envy sparked in Gale; the easy affection between the two men was so lovely to witness. And he could not help but picture Alys’s hand in his, raising it to his lips for a gentle, intimate kiss.

Wyll looked over at Gale and raised an eyebrow, as if to say that he knew what Gale was thinking. “I can see why things with your Alys feel complicated, Gale. But mutual attraction is difficult to ignore. And it’s clear from the way you talk about her that this is no passing fancy on your end.” He smiled slightly. “It’s up to you, of course. But I find myself hoping that you’ll take the risk.”

Wyll’s words echoed in Gale’s mind all the next morning as he got ready for work and made the trek to his office. Not a passing fancy had struck a particular chord with him. Because Wyll was right—his attraction to Alys had built slowly over the months they’d worked together, and he’d been all but consumed with thoughts of her during their weeks apart. Tara had actually forbidden him from mentioning her again until he asked her to dinner.

He arrived at his office ten minutes before his scheduled appointment with Alys. As he hung his coat on the door, trying to sort his jumbled thoughts into order, he felt himself come to a decision. 

I think—I think I’m going to do it. I’ll ask her if she’d like to join me for a drink this evening.

Butterflies immediately filled Gale’s stomach, but along with them, he felt a tingling sort of anticipation. Suddenly, ten minutes felt like an agonizing amount of time to wait to see her again.

To pass the time, he sat behind his desk and turned his computer on, taking deep breaths, resisting the urge to fuss with his hair or second-guess the sweater he’d chosen that morning. He wondered if he should take her to Moonlight, or if the date would go more smoothly if he did not have his friends observing it from the bar. Perhaps Alys would have an idea of where she might like to go.

Or perhaps I should refrain from planning anything until I hear her answer. It’s been a month. She may say no. It’s possible I missed my chance.

As he tried to process that sobering thought, a knock came at the door.

“Come in!” Gale called nervously, standing up and smiling, waiting to meet her eyes.

But the person who pushed open the door was not Alys. Rolan Ramazith was standing in Gale’s doorway, clutching a laboratory notebook to his chest, his face tense and miserable.

The tiefling swallowed. “May I speak to you, Professor?”

Alys climbed the stairs to Gale’s office on slightly sore legs. She’d let her pride goad her into a few too many squats with Lae’zel yesterday, and she was paying the price now. And Lae’zel had still completed a full two sets more than she had. But at least she’d talked her friend into donuts afterwards. Explaining the concept of “powdered sugar” to Lae’zel had been worth all the muscle aches.

She arranged her face in her calmest, friendliest smile as she put her hand on the door to Gale’s office, preparing herself to see him for the first time in weeks. She was going to act normal, damn it. She was going to handle this professionally, treat him as a colleague and a friend, and not get hung up on wondering what if.

But as she opened the door, she realized that he was not alone.

“... only if I take responsibility for the data in the Journal of Wizarding Studies ,” Rolan was saying angrily. His normally tidy ponytail was off-center, his face pale and lined with stress. “But I barely touched that project, Professor Dekarios. Half the work was completed before I ever began here!” He let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what to do. I want to continue here and complete my degree. My family is depending on it. But if I say I’m the one who gave Professor Athkatla that falsified data, my career is over.” His jaw clenched. “He knew that data was wrong when he submitted the paper. I won’t help him cover it up.”

“Nor should you,” Gale said firmly. His eyes flickered over to Alys apologetically, but she could see an intensity in his gaze, the bright blaze of righteous indignation on Rolan’s behalf. “Rolan, would you mind if I fill Alys in on what’s happening? I’d value her advice.”

“Go ahead.” Rolan slumped a bit in the chair. “It’s going to be all over campus in a week anyway.”

Alys stepped inside and shut the door. “I think I’ve gathered the essentials,” she said. “Lorroakan wants you to claim you’re responsible for the bad work in that retracted paper, is that it?”

Rolan nodded. “The journal editor is insisting on the retraction; he thinks the data was not just flawed, but faked. Dean Aylin has hinted that there might be an academic integrity investigation. Professor Athkatla has told me that if I take the blame, say that I supplied the falsified data, he’ll let me continue under his supervision. He plans to make a show of saying that I deserve a second chance. Otherwise, he’s going to withdraw his support—and without an advisor, I’ll be kicked out of the program.”

Alys felt white-hot rage begin to boil in her chest. She drew a deep breath, feeling her nostrils flare as she did. “Lorroakan is a conniving little shit,” she snarled. “Pardon the language.”

Rolan barked out a laugh. “It’s milder than my own thoughts on the matter, I assure you.”

“I can imagine.” Alys crossed her arms. “I don’t suppose he’s been stupid enough to put this demand in an email?”

Rolan shook his head morosely. “It would be his word against mine.”

“First things first, then,” Alys said, her eyes narrowing as she began building a strategy. “We need to take this to Elminster. You need a new advisor.”

Rolan’s eyes dropped down to his hands. “Who would take me on as a student, knowing what he’s accused me of?”

“I would.” Gale spoke the words clearly and decisively. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous. I know my interests are more theoretical than Lorroakan’s, and perhaps they do not align with yours. But I am fully convinced of your potential and your integrity. I’d be honored to sign on as your advisor.”

A thousand conflicting emotions rushed across Rolan’s face. But he drew a deep breath and inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I appreciate that, Professor. Truly. And… I accept.”

“Why don’t you two walk down to Elminster’s office and set things in motion, then.” Alys felt a grim smile tug at her lips. “While you’re there, I’m going to make an appointment with Dean Aylin.”

By the time Gale and Rolan finished their conversation with Elminster, Rolan had the forms he needed to switch advisors—and Alys had made them an emergency appointment with the University’s Dean of the Faculty. Thirty minutes later, Gale and Alys were sitting in front of the newly-appointed Dean Aylin, a striking aasimar a full foot taller than either of them.

Gale had come prepared to explain why they were there, but he had only just opened his mouth when Alys began to speak. Her violet eyes glowed with fury as she explained what she and Gale had witnessed, what Rolan had confided in them this morning. Her words came sharp and fast and clear, each one a devastating accusation about Lorroakan’s conduct, abilities, and integrity. 

And—gods. Despite the stakes of the situation, Gale could only think of how attractive he found Alys at this moment, with her eyes flaring and color on her cheeks and her entire self focused on the task at hand.

“In short, I would like to file a formal allegation of academic dishonesty,” Alys finished crisply. She spoke with utter confidence, as if she assumed her case was already won. “Lorroakan Athkatla is a bully and a fraud, and this university should never, ever place another student in his laboratory.”

Dean Aylin was silent for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought. Gale held his breath. He’d known many deans during his long academic career. Most of them were timid creatures, eager to sweep wrongdoing under the rug, determined to protect the reputation of their institutions above all else. Would Dean Aylin tell them they were troublemakers? Insist that Lorrakan was a valued member of the faculty, tell them they must have misunderstood?

Suddenly, the Dean raised her fist and banged it down on her desk. The computer mouse and pencil cup jumped, the pencils spilling onto the floor.

“Outrageous!” the Dean thundered. “Fraud, lies, and mistreatment of students, under the roof of my university? I will not stand for it! I may be new to this post, Professor Towerfell, but I assure you, there will be a full investigation into these claims. If they are true, Lorroakan Athkatla will learn what it means to attempt this villainy under the eye of Dean Aylin.” She rose from her chair. “I will file the paperwork today. This very hour. And I will see justice done.”

“Well,” Gale said, once they had left the Dean’s office. “The Dean seems to be taking this seriously.”

Alys laughed, and he heard more than a little relief in the sound. “To put it mildly! We’ll see if she follows through, of course. But something tells me she will.” She glanced at him a bit apologetically. “I’m afraid you barely got a word in edgewise in there. I’m sorry. I just—I’ve run across Lorroakan’s type before, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

“Don’t apologize.” Gale met her gaze earnestly, his mind filled with the image of Alys dismantling Lorroakan’s misconduct piece by piece. “You were fantastic in there. If I hardly spoke, it was because I was too captivated by you.”

Alys shook her head with an amused smile. “That’s a flattering way of putting it.”

“I was striving for accuracy, not flattery, Alys.” Gale could hear the intensity in his voice, and apparently Alys could too—she met his gaze with mild surprise, the amusement fading from her face. “I enjoy seeing you like that. Focused. Determined. With your cheeks flushed and that wonderful fire in your eyes. It reminds me of all the reasons I’m drawn to you.”

Alys's lips parted; he heard her breath catch. She was looking at him with something close to wonder, and Gale felt himself look back at her the same way. As if he had never seen anything quite like her. As if he never wanted to look at anything else.

The slam of a filing cabinet drawer startled them both. Dean Aylin’s student assistant was busily sorting through papers; she had headphones on, and didn’t seem to have heard them, but Gale was suddenly conscious of the fact that he’d been about to try to seduce Alys in the waiting room of the Dean’s office.

“But this isn’t really the time or the place, is it?” he asked sheepishly. “And—wait. Don’t you have a class at one?”

Alys glanced at the clock and paled. “Damn. Thank you for reminding me. I have just enough time to get there if I sprint.” Her eyes searched his face for a moment. “I—we’ll talk more later?”

Gale nodded. “Yes. Count on it.”

Alys managed to get through her first lecture of the semester without doing anything embarrassing in front of her students. She wasn’t entirely sure how. A full half of her brain seemed to be committed to replaying Gale’s words on a loop.

It reminds me of all the reasons I’m drawn to you.

Damn him. How was she supposed to focus on keeping things friendly, on not wishing for more, when he said things like that to her? Or… had that phrase been him opening the door to something more? Should she ask him if that’s what he had meant?

I can’t, she reminded herself. I asked him in December. He said no, and I promised not to pressure him. The ball is in his court. If he wants to take things further, he’s going to have to tell me so.

He wouldn’t be telling her anything for quite a while, she knew; he taught a three-hour seminar on Monday afternoons. So Alys returned to her office to focus on preparing for the rest of the week’s classes, and tried not to refresh her email too often to see if Dean Aylin had sent any updates. It would probably take more than a few hours to complete an official investigation, after all.

It was beginning to snow when Alys left her office, and by the time she’d returned to her apartment the weather outside was a near-blizzard, a whiteout swirl of flakes that was beginning to cover the surrounding streets in a blanket of purest white. It was a beautiful sight, and for a long moment Alys stood at her windows looking out at it. She couldn’t help thinking how romantic it would be to stand there with Gale at her side, the two of them snug and warm amidst the storm.

All right, that’s enough. Dinnertime.

Alys managed to refocus her attention on a paper she’d been reading as she ate her meal, letting herself get lost in the art and science of magic, in the possibility of what she could do next. She took a hot shower, warming herself against the chill outside, staying in longer than she usually did, and emerged from the bathroom in her warmest robe, planning a cup of tea and an early bedtime.

Until she saw the message on her lock screen.

GD: I meant what I said earlier.

Alys took a deep breath to steady herself. Then another. And a third, to be safe. Don’t assume anything, she reminded herself firmly as she began to type an answer.

AT: Which part?

Three dots appeared immediately.

GD: All of it. Particularly the parts about finding you captivating.
GD: The truth is I’ve been thinking about you over the holidays. A great deal. And I have been wishing I had given you a different answer when you asked me on a date.
GD: Could I persuade you to join me for a drink some night this week? 

Alys could feel her heart pounding in her chest as a wide, ridiculous grin spread over her face.

AT: I’d love that.

There was a pause, then the bounce of three dots at the bottom of her phone’s screen—and then another message.

GD: I know the weather is not terribly inviting, but is there any chance you might venture out tonight?
GD: It’s impatient of me, I know, but I find I’m already counting the hours until I see you again.

Alys moistened her lips with her tongue and caught her breath. She wondered if this would be too much, too soon—but Gale had already shown her that he would tell her if he wasn’t ready for something, and so she typed the words.

AT: I was just settling in for the night, to tell the truth. But would you like to come over to my apartment for a glass of wine?

She felt as if she’d barely hit send when the reply came.

GD: Send me your address. I’ll be over as soon as I can.

Chapter Text

Should I have brought a bottle of wine? Gale wondered nervously as he rode the elevator to Alys’s floor, brushing snow from his shoulders and shoving his gloves into the pocket of his coat. In normal circumstances he would not have arrived at someone else’s home empty-handed. But when he’d told Alys he would be over as soon as he could, he’d meant it. He’d all but run from his apartment with nothing but his wallet and keys—and the travel toothbrush he’d grabbed in a fit of absurd optimism.

He suddenly felt a flare of embarrassment at the thought of that toothbrush. Gods, how presumptuous of him, packing for an overnight when she’d only invited him for a glass of wine. He could hardly expect her to want to move so quickly, not when he’d spent a month dithering with indecision beforehand. He’d settle for a goodnight kiss. A warm hug, even, would represent a wonderful beginning.

I am going to take this slowly. Respectfully. With care for her feelings and mine, he told himself firmly as he knocked on the door of apartment 512. 

A moment later it opened, revealing Alys Towerfell in a soft teal sweater and gray leggings, her hair loose around her shoulders and her eyes bright and welcoming. “Hi,” she said softly, her full lips curving in a smile.

The last time he'd been this close to her had been in her laboratory, the moment after they’d first shared their magic and seen a kiss in the Weave. He'd replayed that moment so many times in his mind. More often than not he had wished he could rewind time and do it again, make the choice he should have made as soon as he'd realized she wanted him. For just a second, it felt like he'd gotten that wish.

And every good, smart, cautious instinct in Gale deserted him. He stepped forward, tucked one hand into the curve of her waist, and pressed his mouth against hers.

She kissed him back, soft and inviting, her lips deliciously warm against the chill on his skin. Gale drank in the feeling and taste of her as he brushed his mouth across hers. Alys took his face in her hands, her eyes fluttering shut, a soft sigh escaping her chest. He could smell that wonderful perfume she wore, the citrus and the flowers, and he wanted to drown in it, to drown in her.

He did not think he’d ever made a better impulse decision in his life.

“Hi,” he whispered back when the kiss broke.

Her hands were still resting against his cheeks; her eyes were fixed on his face. “You poor thing. You're freezing. And I haven’t even let you in, much less taken your coat. You must think I’m a terrible host.”

“I can honestly say I have no complaints so far,” he chuckled as she pulled him inside. 

As Alys shut the door behind him, Gale unbuttoned his wool coat. He felt her hands against his shoulders, pulling the garment from him, and he cleaned melted snow from his glasses as she hung the coat in her closet. Only when he replaced his glasses did he get a good look at Alys’s apartment.

It felt like stepping into the cover of a design magazine. The front door opened into an enormous, open space, which Alys had set up as a shared dining and living room. Every piece of furniture was clean and modern and comfortable, impeccably matched, beautiful yet inviting. Two cozy green armchairs sat opposite an overstuffed cream sofa; a dark blue throw lay abandoned on that sofa, and he could just picture Alys curled up there with a book or a stack of papers.  Floor-to-ceiling windows gave a panoramic view of the snow-covered streets below.

For just a moment Gale felt off-balance, ragged and out of place in this immaculate home. He couldn't help but think of the contrast with his own mismatched apartment. Self-consciously he brushed melting snowflakes from his hair, which he’d tied up in his usual mess of a half-bun.

Then Alys shut the door to her coat closet and he heard her clear her throat. “Have I mentioned that I like your hair that way?”

Gale turned his head to meet her gaze. Her violet eyes were shining as brightly as they had in Aylin’s office, and a faint pink flush was visible even under the copper of her scales. Her smile was soft and happy. She was excited to have him here, Gale realized—and just as nervous as he was.

That thought helped to steady him, helped him focus his attention on her—where it ought to be—rather than on his own anxieties. He smiled, reaching for her hand. “No. But I’m glad to hear it.” 

Alys squeezed his fingers, the pressure gentle but electrifying. “So. What now?” she asked quietly. “I promised you a drink, I believe. The wine is in the kitchen if you want to help me choose the bottle.”

She was so beautiful standing there, all soft curls and elegant curves, that Gale nearly couldn’t respond; he could only take her in, could only stare and wonder how he’d found himself here, holding this woman’s hand as snow fell outside.

An idea began to unfold in his mind. “I trust your taste. You choose—but take your time. There’s something I want to show you when you come out.”

Alys arched an eyebrow. “Can you be more specific?”

Gale laughed. “No,” he said. “It’s a surprise. A pleasant one, I hope.”

Alys tilted her head at him playfully. “Hmm. I suppose you look trustworthy,” she teased. “All right, I’ll take my time.”

As Alys went into the kitchen, Gale moved into her living room, looking up and down the full expanse of glass windows. He drew a breath and began channeling the Weave, using the glass’s light-refracting properties to help him build his illusion, teasing the strands until they were just the right colors and shimmered in just the right way.

“Are you ready?” Alys called from the kitchen. “I can feel what you’re doing out there and I’m dying to know what it is.”

“Wonder no more.” Gale twisted his fingers with a flourish, tying the ends of the spell off. “Come out and see.”

Alys emerged from her kitchen with a glass of wine in each hand, desperately curious about what Gale had been doing in her living room. She could feel him manipulate the Weave as he cast, and she could tell it was an illusion spell—but, of course, she had no way to tell what sort of illusion he was building from inside her kitchen.

She was prepared for something impressive. Gale was a talented wizard, and he’d mentioned more than once that he had a fondness for both art and poetry. Even so, when she turned the corner from her kitchen, all she could do was stop and stare.

“Gale. That’s—gods, it’s gorgeous.” She moved forward slowly, her eyes focused on her windows. Against the dark gray of the night sky, Gale had woven an illusion of the northern lights. Gold and blue and green shone against the glass, waving and glowing, shifting with every breath. And it was convincing. This was no mere splash of color—it had depth and movement, and looked for all the world as if it were stretching for miles above the snow outside.

Alys set the glasses on her coffee table without ever taking her eyes from the shimmering illusion, settling into the couch with a feeling of wonder. She could feel that her lips had parted, that she was practically gaping, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

“When I’d just graduated from university, I took a year to travel. The classic ‘backpacking around Faerûn’ journey,” Gale said, chuckling with self-deprecation as he sat on the couch next to her. “I found myself at the Spine of the World on one of the coldest nights of the year, wrapped in every item of clothing I’d brought in that backpack, just staring up at the sea of lights. It was the most extraordinary thing I’d ever seen.” 

He drew a breath and met her gaze, his eyes warm and sincere. “And it was the only sight I could think of that might be an adequate match for you.”

“If you’re trying to turn me into a puddle into my own living room, Gale, you’re succeeding,” Alys said as heat rush to her cheeks. “You weren’t joking when you said you enjoyed poetry.”

“You deserve poetry, and far more.” He frowned slightly, a flicker of unhappiness moving across his face. “I’m sorry, Alys. For saying no. For taking so long to realize I'd made a mistake. That kiss should have happened in December.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Gale,” Alys said, her voice gentle. “You weren’t ready in December. And I like that you’re taking this seriously.” She winked at him. “Besides, that kiss was worth waiting for.”

Gale laughed, a slight pink blush appearing on his cheeks. “That’s very generous of you,” he said, dropping his eyes to their hands. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the opportunity. If it was a good kiss, I assure you—the credit belongs to you.” He raised his arm, gesturing for her to move closer. “Come here?”

Alys slid down the couch until her side touched his. Gale put his arm around her and she rested her head against his shoulder, snuggling into him.

They sat like that for a long while, sharing the silence, watching the beautiful sky he had summoned for them. Every inch of Alys was alight with anticipation. Gale’s hand was curled into the curve of her waist and she could feel his fingers lightly stroking the soft fabric of her sweater. The pressure was feather-light and sent delicious shivers up her spine. She rested a hand gently on his knee, moving it no higher, but letting herself sink into the feeling of touching him and having him near.

When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she shifted her position, sitting up a bit, bringing her mouth close to his. She saw Gale swallow, his throat bobbing, and his eyes closed as he drew a quiet breath and leaned in to meet her.

Their second kiss was tender, unhurried. Or at least, it began that way, with Alys’s lips brushing over Gale’s, her tongue gently teasing the seam of his mouth, his tongue matching it with a touch so light Alys half worried she was fantasizing it. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer, and Alys answered him eagerly, sliding her body against his. Impulsively, she swung a leg over his lap and straddled him, stroking his hair from his forehead as she looked down at him.

“All right?” she asked softly, suddenly very aware of her weight pressing him into her couch, not wanting him to feel trapped.

Gale was not looking up at her like a man who felt trapped, however. He was looking up at her like a starving man who had just been offered a feast. He drew a long breath before answering her. 

“Yes.” He reached for her and slid his fingers into her hair, tugging her mouth back down to his.

This kiss was pure fire and hunger, passionate and just a bit messy. His beard prickled delightfully against her skin as he kissed her hard and deep, his tongue sweeping against hers. His fingers tightened in her hair and tugged, tilting her head back, and she felt his mouth move lower, felt his teeth gently nip at the tender skin of her throat. It felt oddly familiar, though she knew this was the first time they’d done this, and with a jolt of realization she remembered why.

She let out a sound that was half moan, half laugh. “You remembered what you saw in the Weave,” she gasped.

She felt him chuckle against her skin. “It made an impression.”

His hands were holding her waist now, and as Alys tipped her head forward to kiss him again, she felt him pull her hips into his, felt her core rock against the hard outline of his arousal. She repeated the motion shamelessly, whimpering into his mouth as she did. Everything in her was alight, spinning fast, threatening to break her into pieces. His hand skimmed under her sweater and splayed against her back, the first touch of his fingertips against her bare skin, the beginning of a question he was about to put into words.

He rested his forehead against hers, clearly fighting for his breath. “Alys,” he said, the syllables ragged and uneven. “I don’t want to presume, or move too quickly. But I—do you—”

“Would you like to spend the night?” Alys blurted.

Gale laughed softly. “I would. Very much.”

“Good. I’d like that too.” Alys stood, taking his hand in hers, tugging him to stand, leading him across her living room and towards the door to her bedroom.

They had only just stepped inside when Gale reached for her again—or maybe Alys reached for him, she couldn’t have said for sure. His hands ran under her clothing more boldly now, skimming the fabric of her bra, teasing the warm, bare skin of her stomach and back; she could feel just the faintest hint of his nails along her spine and moaned at the pressure, suddenly very glad the garment she’d pulled from her closet was oversized and easy to reach under.

Gale’s clothing was not quite so welcoming. He wore a v-neck sweater in light blue over another button-down shirt and trim gray slacks, and even though Alys thought it was an excellent look on him, she was suddenly desperate to get it off him. She reached for the hem of the sweater and tugged it upwards, pulling it over his head as he raised his arms to let her. She pressed her fingers just below his throat, touching the little vee of skin that showed above the unbuttoned collar to his shirt, tracing the soft lines of the tattoo he’d gotten as a young man.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this in full,” she murmured. She met his eyes. “Could you show me?”

Gale blushed—and gods, she loved making him blush—as a pleased smile curved across his features. Slowly, deliberately, he took a step back and began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it open and peeling it from his shoulders as she watched.

As the shirt fell on the floor, she stepped forward and rested her hands against his chest, letting the soft curled hair there tickle her palms. She slid her fingers higher and touched the markings again, using one finger to trace the lines up his neck, over his face, and to the corner of his eye. With deliberate intent, she leaned forward and kissed the circle on his chest.

“This,” she murmured, “is a really hot tattoo.”

She heard Gale catch his breath, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he replied. “I’m quite glad you approve.”

He reached under her sweater again, but this time he was lifting it, pulling it over her head. His hands ran over her bare skin as he drew her into his arms, and Alys began tugging him backwards, stepping until her back met her bedroom wall with a soft thump. Gods, she didn’t think she’d ever wanted another person this badly, ever been so desperate to feel every inch of herself covered by someone else’s body. And Gale, bless him, answered her so readily, pressing her against the wall of her bedroom with his full weight, eliminating every scrap of air between them as he kissed her.

She felt his fingers slide into the cup of her bra, cupping her breast, teasing her as she moaned into his mouth. He lowered his head and took the nipple into his mouth almost reverently; she felt his teeth nip gently at the skin and she gasped, sliding her fingers into his hair, trying to ask him for more without having to catch her breath to put it into words.

Then he was on his knees in front of her, taking his glasses off and setting them aside, and his fingers were curling into the waistband of her leggings. He met her eyes as he looked up at her. “All right?”

Alys nodded, unable to find words for just how all right this was. How hot Gale Dekarios looked on his knees, peeling her clothing from her, lifting her knee over his shoulder to brace her weight and kissing the inside of her thigh before leaning in to taste her.

Taste was the wrong word, though. Savor, maybe. Or devour. His tongue was warm and eager against her cunt, and she was sure that her wetness was filling his mouth, soaking into his beard. She was also sure that he loved it. She could feel his enthusiasm and hunger and want in every lick, in the way he moaned as his mouth worked over her, in the way his hands tightened against her hips to hold her in place as her legs began to shake. And they did shake, because gods, Gale was good at this.

She came hard, her entire body quivering, everything within her tightening and releasing so quickly that it almost felt like she was shattering. She cried out, sagging against the wall and sliding down it as her legs decided their work here was done. Gale caught her as she collapsed, pulling her head against his shoulder, pressing a damp kiss into the curve of her neck.

“Sorry,” she laughed, reaching her arms around him, loving the feeling of him close. “I just need a minute—oh, fuck, Gale. That was amazing.”

“So I gathered.” His tone was smug, but she didn’t mind. He’d earned it, after all.

She realized, then, that he was still only half-undressed; she reached for his belt buckle, curving her fingers lightly around it. “Could I return the favor?”

She felt him laugh against her skin. “I doubt I would last long in your mouth, not after that.”

“That would be all right, you know,” she said softly. “If it’s what you wanted.”

His breath tickled her ear. “Another time. What I want this time,” he murmured, “is to come while I’m inside you.” A pause. “Ah. Assuming you have condoms. I don’t. Although I did grab a toothbrush on my way out the door. But that’s feeling far less critical at the moment.”

Alys chuckled warmly. “In my bedside table. I like to be prepared.”

Everything around Gale seemed to be happening in slow motion, in high definition, sharper and clearer and more intense than anything he could remember. Alys was sliding her bra from her shoulders, pulling a little square of foil from her bedside table, crawling onto the bed and looking at him with heat and hunger in her eyes. Gods, she was gorgeous there, framed against the soft cream and blue of her bedroom, her dark skin and copper scales glowing like jewels against the pale backdrop. He thought of how his hand had looked against her hip, like alabaster resting against slate, how he’d paused to kiss a patch of copper scales on her inner thigh before giving in to what he’d really wanted to do.

He could feel her eyes on him as he reached for his belt buckle, and he had a momentary sense that he should feel shy or hesitant about this, that undressing for her for the first time ought to feel more awkward. But—it didn’t. Not at all. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so wanted, so desired. So he stripped everything below the waist and climbed onto the bed to join her without even a hint of self-consciousness, his eyes locked on her the whole time. He saw her catch her breath as he moved towards her, watched her gaze slide down his body, and could not help a swell of arrogant pleasure when she bit her lip at the sight of him in her bed.

She rolled the condom over him carefully, resting her forehead against his as she did, her features a wonderful mask of concentration. When it was done, she met his eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“How do you want me?” Her voice was husky and seductive and it sent a stab of lust coursing through him.

“However you want,” he whispered back. “I want this to be good for you, Alys.”

“Hmmm.” She kissed him lightly. “I can’t help feeling you’ve done most of the work so far. How would you like me being on top?”

Gale swallowed. Hard. “A–a lot. I would like that a lot.”

Grinning, Alys pushed him back against a stack of pillows. Gale sank into them gratefully, curling his hands into her waist as she straddled him, letting his eyes roam her curves. Her hand reached for his cock and she nestled its tip into her folds, then inch by inch, sank down over him until she had him fully sheathed.

Gale prided himself on his command of language even in the most intense of moments. Right now, though, all of his poetry failed him, because all his brain could focus on was the wave of pleasure cresting over him, on how wet and warm and tight she was around him. “Hells,” he moaned. “You feel so good, Alys. So good.”

“So do you,” she replied breathlessly. She braced her hands against his chest and raised herself up on his cock, pausing for a moment before lowering herself and taking all of him back in. The movement was gentle, almost cautious. Her eyes were locked on his face, and with a slight sense of wonder, Gale realized that she was watching to see if he liked what she was doing.

He met her eyes and tightened his hands around her hips. “Good girl.” 

He wasn’t sure where those words came from; it wasn’t something he could remember saying in bed before. But he knew he had hit on just the right thing to say when she closed her eyes and shivered, a little whimper escaping her lips as she tightened around him.

“More,” he whispered, bucking his hips up into hers. “Just like what you were doing. Gods, you’re exquisite.”

She leaned forward and kissed him once, hard, her mouth fierce on his. Then she was above him again, moaning as she rode him up and down, her fingers tightening against the muscles of his chest. Gale dug his fingers into her hips and matched her pace, his movements greedy as together, they drove him closer and closer to the brink.

He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut as he came, choking back a sound that he was fairly certain would have disturbed her neighbors. He felt Alys brush her fingers across his cheek, felt her press a kiss against his lips, then she was climbing off him and curling herself around his body, warm and eager against him.

“Alys. That was astonishing,” he gasped, fighting for his breath. But a sudden stab of doubt coursed through him, and he opened his eyes to look down at her. “At least—it was for me. Did you…?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?” Alys teased. “You do remember that you made me come so hard that my legs stopped working, right?”

Her cheeks were flushed and her smile was bright, and Gale felt his doubt melt away. He  wrapped an arm around her back and grinned down at her. “Did I? Goodness. I think you might need to remind me about it. In detail.”

Alys wrinkled her nose at him playfully, then pressed a kiss against the center of his tattoo. Gale felt a flood of memory wash through him. He hadn’t thought about Mystra once since opening the door to Alys’s apartment, but he suddenly remembered how his ex had once forwarded him the contact information for a dermatologist who specialized in tattoo removal. He had pretended not to see it, but she’d hinted at it for years before sighing and telling him that she supposed might be good to carry around a reminder of a mistake.

Alys, however, clearly didn’t think it had been a mistake.

Gale had spent so many long months alone, mourning what he’d broken, sure he would never have anything like it again. The last thing he ever would have expected was to find himself with someone who made him feel as if he might be building something even better.

Impulsively, he tucked his finger under Alys’s chin and tilted her head up, kissing her gratefully. He was going to get to wake up tomorrow with this woman—and the thought of that seemed to make everything in his past melt away.

Chapter Text

Alys’s arm tightened around his waist. “Five more minutes.”

“I have to teach today.” Despite his protest, Gale made no attempt to get out of bed. Alys was spooning him, her body curled around his, and it would have taken a much stronger man to voluntarily leave her embrace.

“I could call Elminster. Ask him to give you the day off.” Alys kissed the back of his shoulder. “I’m sure if I explain the situation he’ll understand.”

“‘The situation’ being that you’re beautiful and I’m in your bed?” Gale turned over and brushed a lock of her hair from her face. “That does feel like a good reason for a day off, now that you mention it.” 

“And it’s the last day of February,” Alys murmured, a smile on her lips. “That’s a holiday in some cultures. I’m sure of it.”

Gale chuckled and kissed her. “Alas, my students have an exam today.”

“Mine do too, now that you mention it.” Alys wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, fine. I suppose we should get up.”

As Alys stepped into the shower, Gale made his way into the kitchen and put a pan on the stove to heat. Opening her pantry and seeing the little supply of spices he’d put there still gave him a thrill. He’d brought them over the first time he’d made dinner for her, and before he knew it they were clearing space for his favorite ingredients and cooking equipment in her kitchen. 

It was just one of the moments from the past six weeks that made Gale feel like he ought to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating this entire relationship. The transition from friends to lovers had felt nearly effortless, as if he and Alys were two puzzle pieces that had always been destined to fit together. Whether they were collaborating on the Crown—now completed and sitting in Alys’s carefully warded laboratory waiting for its moment of glory—or sharing a quiet morning over coffee, everything about them just seemed to work.

And gods, the sex had been so good that it made him a bit weak in the knees to think about it. They’d discarded condoms quickly after a few tests and a brief but emphatic discussion about not wanting other partners, and every time they slept together was somehow better than the last. He couldn’t ever remember desiring someone this much, feeling so intensely wanted in return, spending so much of his day counting the minutes until they were alone again. He had to actively remind himself to keep his hands off her when they were on campus, and whenever they closed the door to her apartment it was never long before they were kissing and reaching for each others’ clothes.

Although she was beginning to grow a bit curious about why they only ever went to her place. Alys had seen his home briefly, during one of his trips over there to collect some clean clothes, but so far he’d just said that her apartment was both larger and closer to work. He hadn’t felt quite ready to confess what a disaster his home was in comparison to hers.

I need to remedy that soon, he thought as he poured scrambled eggs into the heated pan. Once I replace that kitchen table it will be more presentable. Perhaps I could go shopping this weekend. It would make Tara happy, as well.

It occurred to him that Tara had not yet objected to the number of nights he was spending away. In fact, her only word on the subject of his relationship had been “Good for you, Mr. Dekarios.” 

Gale was pouring coffee when Alys emerged from her bedroom, freshly showered and elegantly dressed as always. She lifted her mug with a grateful smile. “Bathroom’s all yours,” she told him, taking the first sip. “I may not be here when you get out, I have an early meeting with a student.”

Gale stepped forward and kissed her, resting his forehead against hers. “In that case, I’ll see you later to work on our draft?”

Alys kissed him back. “I’ll see you then.” 

That afternoon, Alys was crossing the quad towards Gale’s office when she thought she heard someone shout her name. She paused her steps, listening—and then the voice called out again.

“Alys! Hey! Over here!”

Karlach was waving at her from across the quad, a bright grin on her friendly face. Shadowheart was standing next to her, holding her other hand.

Alys grinned and waved back, walking over to meet them. “Hey yourself! What brings you to campus?”

“It’s a professional development day at the high school. Thought I’d get in some higher education.” Karlach winked at her as she put her arm around Shadowheart. “And by that, I mean steal my favorite professor away for an afternoon coffee date.”

“It’s good to see you, Alys. We haven’t in a while. Now, whyever could that be?” Shadowheart’s eyes sparked with humor.

“That’s right. The new boyfriend!” Karlach grinned. “Come on, now, details. How’s it going?”

Alys was normally reserved about her private life. In past relationships she’d been able to answer questions like that with a breezy “it’s great” or “we’re seeing where it goes.” Today, however, she couldn’t stop a goofy grin from spreading across her face.

“Fantastic,” she said dreamily. Then she cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s still new. But—I hardly know where to start. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and we talk for hours, and…”

“In short, you’re obviously head over heels.” Karlach’s delight was infectious. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “How’s the sex?”

“Oh, gods, it’s by far the best I’ve ever…” Too late, Alys processed exactly what the question had been. “Karlach!” she spluttered, laughing. “What if poor Shadowheart has to work with Gale on some faculty committee?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Shadowheart said, waving away the concern with a wicked gleam in her eye. “If Professor Dekarios and I do run into each other on campus, ‘I hear you’re spectacular in bed’ would be a great icebreaker.”

Alys covered her face with her hands, shaking with laughter. “Gale’s going to kill me.”

“Well, we’re about to find out, if I’m right about who’s waving to us from over there,” Karlach said cheerfully. “Human, brown hair, glasses, looking at you like you personally hung the moon?”

Alys spun her head around. Gale was walking towards them, his messenger bag slung across his body, a brilliant smile on his face. He was wearing a purple sweater over a white button-down shirt and patterned tie, and even though they could not possibly have been more in public, Alys had a brief fantasy of winding her fingers into that tie and pulling him in for a deep kiss.

She settled for a quick peck when he joined them. “Gale, this is Shadowheart, from Religious Magics, and her girlfriend Karlach. They live in my building. Ladies, this is Gale Dekarios. My boyfriend.” 

Too late, she realized she and Gale had not actually discussed a label for their relationship—but if Gale was taken aback, he wasn’t showing it.

“Lovely to meet you both,” he said enthusiastically, shaking hands with both of the women. “Alys has told me a lot about you.”

“She’s told us a lot about you, too,” Shadowheart said mischievously. “I hear you’re…”

Alys gaped at Shadowheart as her cheeks preemptively flushed red.

“... in the Wizardry department,” Shadowheart finished, winking at Alys.

Gale blinked as he looked between the two women, clearly sensing that he was missing something. “Um. I… am.”

Alys cleared her throat and tucked a hand into his elbow. “Anyway, we’ve got a paper to work on this afternoon. But it was wonderful to run into you.”

“Great to meet you, Gale.” Karlach said cheerfully. “Enjoy your afternoon!” 

“And your evening,” Shadowheart murmured teasingly, just loud enough for them to hear.

They were a few paces away when Gale cleared his throat. Alys braced herself to try to explain what Shadowheart had been teasing her about—but instead, Gale said, “You called me your boyfriend.”

Alys met his eyes. His expression was warm and pleased; he had a faint pink flush on his cheeks that she suspected was not just from being outside. “I did. Was that all right?”

“Oh yes, I quite liked it,” he assured her. “And now I’ll get to practice telling people about my brilliant girlfriend.”

Alys grinned and pulled his arm closer, feeling practically radiant with joy.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t check my dating work again?” Gale asked anxiously, squinting at the title of their draft. “It’s delicate work, pinpointing the date of construction for such an old artifact. The spell residue is so faint that it’s easy to slip just a bit and wind up with a major error.”

Alys looked up from her laptop screen; she put a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “If you want to do the work again, I’ll support that,” she told him. “But you’ve done it three times already, and each time it’s come back the same.” She drew a deep breath as her mouth began to curve in a smile. “Which means we have what we thought we had. It’s the Crown of Karsus , Gale. It really is.”

Gale blew out a nervous, delighted breath. “I think you’re right. I know you’re right. But I—well.” He cleared his throat. “I may check again. A fourth time certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

Mystra would have rolled her eyes at his caution, or snapped at him for not making sure he’d done things right the first time. Alys just nodded. “We’ll skip the dating section for now, then. What do you think of the section I wrote on our reconstruction methodology?”

They worked on the draft for a solid hour, refining the language, debating the organization. After a while, Alys stretched her arms up and glanced over at him.

“I need to run to the bathroom. I’ll be back soon.”

Gale nodded. “I’ll keep working on the literature review. Gods forbid our paper gets sent to a referee whose work wasn’t cited.”

He typed away industriously while Alys was gone, adding new references, checking yet another search engine for any new papers on Netherese constructs. He had just emailed Alys an interesting-looking journal article when he heard his door open, squeaking slightly on its hinges. A few months ago, he’d winced every time he heard that sound; now, it made him smile.

“I’ve just sent you—”

“I know it was you, Dekarios.”

Gale looked up from his screen, blinking and adjusting his glasses as his eyes refocused. The person who had opened his door was not Alys. Lorroakan Athkatla was standing in the doorframe, his arms crossed over a rumpled sweater, his eyes blazing furiously.

With great discipline, Gale bit back a smirk. He couldn’t help the impulse. Lorrakan was blotchy with annoyance, his hair unusually frazzled, his entire demeanor enraged. He was clearly not having a good day, and Gale could not help the petty but ultimately fair thought that his colleague deserved it.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, Lorroakan. What was me?”

“This preposterous academic integrity complaint. You and that half-Drow shrew concocted it, gods only know why. Jealousy, I can only assume. Or maybe you were that desperate to poach my incompetent graduate student.” Lorroakan’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. “But mark my words, when I’m exonerated, I will make life a living hell for you in this department.”

“You’re more than welcome to try,” Gale said pleasantly. “Though I should tell you it’s unlikely I’ll be here much longer. The project I’m working on now—well.” He did allow himself a smirk, then. “Suffice it to say it will take me places where you could only dream of following.” 

Lorroakan scoffed. “Bold words for Mystra Ryll’s discarded lapdog.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Lorroakan?” Alys’s calm alto cut through the air, sharp and clear. Over Lorroakan’s shoulder, Gale could see her cross her arms and glare at the other wizard. “Because we’re rather busy at the moment.”

“I do, at that,” Lorroakan sneered. “But I’ll give you some friendly advice you don’t deserve. Talk your pet wizard out of his delusions of grandeur, or he is going to have a very harsh return to earth.”

With that, Lorroakan pushed his way past Alys and walked away, his steps quick and furious, echoing loudly as he walked down the hall.

Alys watched him go from Gale’s doorway. Her face was set in an expression of deep dislike—but there was something else in it too, something more uncertain.

“Apologies. I’ll ask Elminster if I can put a bell on him,” Gale joked. “Or perhaps we should work in the Sorcery building next time.”

His girlfriend stepped inside and closed the door, her expression serious. She was silent for a moment, then drew a deep breath and spoke. “Why did you tell Lorroakan you weren’t going to be here much longer?”

Her expression was strained, worried. Gale felt himself tilt his head in puzzlement—because wasn’t the answer obvious? “I—well.” He gestured at his computer screen. “Surely it’s occurred to you that this paper is going to get attention. That certain professional doors will open once we publish it.”

“Which professional doors?” Alys was looking at him intently, her eyes watching every flicker of his face, weighing his reactions.

Gale took a breath. He hadn’t actually told Alys about this specific plan before, and this was not the moment he might have chosen to broach the topic—but now that he’d stupidly blurted something out in front of Lorroakan, he owed her a full explanation. “Off the top of my head? The Museum of Magical Antiquities. They’ll almost certainly want the artifact to display.”

Alys nodded slowly. “I’d be open to that. The Crown deserves to be displayed. But why would giving the Crown to the Museum open professional doors?”

“Because this is a major find, and the Museum’s board would need to meet certain conditions in order to get me to transfer the artifact to them.” Gale met her eyes intently, hoping desperately that she would understand what he said next. “Such as offering me the position of Head Curator.”

Alys blinked at him. Then blinked a bit more. Then shook her head as her lips parted in astonishment. “Gale. You don’t mean—you’d try to get them to fire Mystra Ryll?”

“Try and, I believe, succeed.” Gale felt his heart beat faster as he put this into words, the secret plan he’d been nurturing ever since he’d realized what their artifact was. “When I showed Mystra those fragments, she told me they were ‘worthless junk.’ I still have the email she sent. A professional misstep like that would be devastating for her reputation if I revealed it publicly. Replacing her wouldn’t be a quick process, of course. But with the Crown of Karsus at stake, I feel certain the Board will see things my way.”

“Gale, listen to yourself.” Alys pressed her fingers against her forehead. “You’re plotting some sort of coup to—to what, get back at your ex-girlfriend?”

“No, of course not. I could do incredible things at that museum, Alys,” Gale said earnestly. “It was always the place where I planned to finish my career, a place where I could work with the world’s most remarkable artifacts. And if Mystra couldn’t recognize what was in front of her because of her prejudice against Netherese artifacts, she doesn’t belong in that position. It’s not about payback. It’s about my future—and the Museum’s.”

“But Gale, if you drive Mystra out in a scandal and take her job, you know the gossip won’t just be about her. Your reputation might never recover from something like that.” Alys crossed her arms and looked at him in concern. “Is that really what you want? To work under a cloud of suspicion?”

“The facts are plain as day,” Gale said. He could hear the defensiveness in his voice, but he could not help it. He was right about this; he knew he was. “My fellow wizards will see that my assessment was correct and hers was wrong. She may have her defenders, but they’ll come over to my side when they see the Crown.”

Alys swallowed, meeting his eyes. “And—there isn’t anything in Baldur’s Gate that you’d regret leaving behind?” 

Understanding dawned instantly. Gale felt his lips part as his breath left him in a rush. “Oh, Alys!” He stood up and moved out from behind his desk, extending a pleading hand. “No, no. I’d never leave you behind. I’d create a job for you at the Museum.”

Alys’s face went still. She crossed her arms; when she spoke, her tone was clipped and cold. “Gale. I’m a sorcerer. I develop new magics. I’m not an expert on old ones. Even if that were something I wanted, I’m not remotely qualified for museum work.”

“I disagree. But if the Museum doesn’t appeal to you, I’m sure the Waterdeep Sorcery department would—”

“Gale, I don’t want to work at Waterdeep!” Alys burst out, shaking her head in frustration. “The city is lovely, but the university—I’ve never wanted to work at a place like that, with all those big egos and academic politics.”

Gale dropped his hand, stunned into silence at the idea that anyone might not want what he’d had at the University of Waterdeep—the reputation, the acclaim, the posh offices and gleaming laboratories. But Alys did not seem uncertain about her declaration.

“I like BGU,” she continued. “I like my students. I like the university. I’ve only just started building a life here, making friends and getting to know the city again. And you think I’d throw it all away to—to follow someone I’ve been dating for six weeks?”

The words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over Gale’s head. Just this morning he’d woken up in her bed, felt practically at home in her kitchen. He’d nearly begun dancing with joy when she’d called him her boyfriend. And at this moment, all of it felt so very far away.

“Someone I’ve been dating for six weeks.” Is that all I am to her?

“Well,” he said quietly. “I suppose I can’t fault your caution. I suppose it would be rather rash to plan one’s career around a new love affair.” He swallowed. 

“Gale, I…” Alys looked at him, her expression pained. “These last weeks have been wonderful. Better than anything I can remember. But gods, you’ve built this whole story for us where you make a few phone calls, get your ex-girlfriend fired, move back to Waterdeep to take her job, and I—I tag along like a pet!”

“You wouldn’t be ‘tagging along!’” Gale protested. “You’d be there because of your work, what you did on this project. I know you’ve only just begun to get settled here, but think how much more you could have. How much more we could have.”

“What if I like what I have now?” Alys asked quietly. “What if I think what I have now—what we have now—is enough?”

The words made sense. But Gale could not wrap his mind about the sentiment behind them. Enough? How could this be enough for someone like her?

“You’d really never move.” He couldn’t disguise the hurt in his voice. “You wouldn’t even consider it.”

“I didn’t say—hells, Gale, I don’t know,” she burst out. “I just—you’re treating everything we’ve done together as if it’s just a stepping stone back to your old life in Waterdeep. A life, by the way, that you don’t seem to have been all that happy in.”

“That’s unfair,” Gale said stiffly. “I accomplished a great deal at Waterdeep.”

“There’s more to life than lines on your CV, Gale,” Alys said quietly. “I love my work as much as you do, but it takes more than the right job title to be happy.”

Gale felt his mouth tighten in annoyance. He felt certain she was being unreasonable, that she was twisting the situation around to put what he wanted in the worst light, but he could not quite find the words to explain why she was looking at this all wrong. “Perhaps we ought to quit for the day,” he said, after a pained pause. 

“Is that what you want? To just walk away from this?” Alys asked, her brow furrowing. “These are things we need to talk through. They’re not going to go away if we ignore them.”

“I’m not walking away from anything, Alys,” Gale protested indignantly. “Nor am I ignoring anything. I’m merely suggesting that a pause might be a good idea. Best to think things through before either of us says something we might regret. I doubt we’ll get much of anywhere going in circles about this.”

Alys paused, her face tense. “I—I suppose we probably won’t,” she said after a moment. 

With an unhappy frown, she collected her laptop and zipped it into her bag. She met his eyes, clearly trying to think of something to say. But neither she nor Gale could find the next words, the right words, the ones to push them past this moment.

And so Gale watched her walk out of his office, his tongue silent even as his mind screamed at him to beg her to stay.

Alys brushed away a scattering of hot tears as she closed the door to her apartment. The day had started out so perfectly. How had it turned into something this rotten?

For what felt like the thousandth time, she replayed the conversation in her head, considered other things she could have said, wondered if she’d been unfair. She could understand why Gale would want to return to Waterdeep, the city where he’d grown up and where his mother lived. She’d anticipated months ago that he might get the opportunity to return and take it. But she’d had no idea that he was actively planning for that move, that he was envisioning using both the Crown and his past relationship with Mystra to take his ex’s job.

Part of Alys felt that it would be no more than Mystra deserved. Everything Gale had told her about that relationship made her dislike the woman more. Mystra had looked at her bright young graduate student and seen a toy, someone she could mold into the perfect right-hand man, and she’d done just that without a thought for Gale’s own interests or future. But this kind of cloak-and-dagger subterfuge to ruin Mystra’s reputation and drive her out of the museum felt beneath the man she knew. The mud from that scandal would cling to him too; how could he not see that?

And gods, that line about creating a position for her at the Museum had made her see red. She’d heard her mother say the same thing so many times, say that she could manufacture a better job for Alys out of thin air. Did no one in Alys’s life trust her to make her own career choices?

Gale and I can work past this, she told herself stubbornly.

But… she couldn’t see how. If Gale’s dream was Waterdeep, and everything she’d ever wanted was right here, what were they going to do?

As she hung her bag on its hook, her phone rang somewhere in its depths. Her hopes soaring, Alys pulled it out and answered it without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hello, darling!”

Alys felt her heart drop into her stomach. It was not the voice she’d been hoping to hear. “Hi, Mom.” 

“I just wanted to see if you and your new boyfriend might like to have dinner with me tonight. I know it’s short notice, but a client canceled on me and I’d hate for the reservation to go to waste.” Cerise spoke quickly, briskly, and Alys sensed that she was walking between meetings. “Besides, I’ve been dying to meet Gale.”

“Um. Thanks, Mom,” she said sincerely, wincing a bit at the awkward timing. “But I—Gale and I had a fight today. I don’t think tonight’s a good idea.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Cerise’s tone changed immediately; warmth and support flowed through those words. Alys heard a door shut somewhere on her mother’s end of the line. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alys felt her throat thicken as she crossed the room and sat on her couch. “Maybe. I—he told me today that he wants to move back to Waterdeep. He’s been making plans for it.” She decided not to tell her mother what those plans were; gods willing, she could still talk Gale out of releasing that email. “But I like my job here, and I don’t know if I want to be long-distance with someone, and—and I think I really hurt him when I said I like it here and don’t want to move.” She sighed. “We didn’t leave things in a great place.”

Cerise let out a sympathetic sigh. “Well. That’s a rather big ask of him, a move to a new city so soon after you got here. But I know how much you care about him. You’ve always been very dedicated to your job, but there’s nothing wrong with following your heart once in a while, darling.”

Alys felt a rush of affection for her mother. She didn’t think Cerise Towerfell had ever followed a romance anywhere before; the fact that she was encouraging Alys to consider it felt rather remarkable. Maybe she’s finally realized that I’m not her all over again.

“And Waterdeep’s a lovely city,” Cerise continued. “You know Towerfell Constructs has offices there. We could use a new Head of Research in that…”

All that warm affection in Alys instantly turned to ice.

“For fuck’s sake, Mom!” The words all but burst from Alys’s mouth. She didn’t think she’d ever sworn at her mother before, but she was tired and sad and just so gods-damned sick of this. “Am I ever going to get through a conversation with you without hearing about how I should quit my job and come to work for Towerfell Constructs?”

Silence fell at the other end of the line. “Goodness, Alys,” Cerise said after a long pause. “I don’t think that was called for.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, but I don’t have it in me to be polite about this any more.” Alys’s free hand tightened into a fist. “Every time I tell you I’m tired of hearing about the family business, you tell me you’re just teasing. Or remind me that I could be making more money. Or you come up with some other reason why you couldn’t possibly just let me live my life.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead and swallowed, trying to hold back angry tears. “I’m good at what I do, Mom. I like what I do. Would it kill you to support me instead of trying to talk me into doing what you think is best?”

“I do support you, darling,” Cerise protested. “I’m proud of what you’ve achieved. But is it so bizarre that I’d want you to have something more?”

Gods, again with the more. What was so wrong with the things that Alys actually wanted?

“My job will always be less to you, won’t it?”

Another long pause. “That’s not what I meant and you know it, Alys. You’re twisting my words.”

Alys felt her shoulders slump in defeat. She doesn’t understand. She never will. She swallowed. “Look, I can tell you’re between meetings. We’ll talk later. Thanks again for the dinner invitation. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

She hit the red button to hang up the call before giving Cerise a chance to respond, then put the phone on silent and shoved it beneath one of the pillows on her couch. 

She checked it again before she went to bed, but there were no messages, no missed calls. She wasn’t surprised Cerise was giving her space—her mother strongly believed in cooling down before resuming an argument—but Alys did not know what to make of the fact that Gale hadn’t called. Or the fact that her heart felt like it was tearing in half when she didn’t see his name on her screen.

She plugged the phone into a charger in her bedroom and tried not to listen for its buzz as she settled her head against the pillow, but it remained stubbornly silent, and it was a long time before she drifted off into sleep.

Chapter Text

“It’s time for my breakfast, Mr. Dekarios.”

Gale turned on his side and stared at his wall. “Can you get it yourself, Tara? I’m… not feeling up to much at the moment.”

That was an understatement. Gale had eaten a bowl of cereal for dinner and gone to bed early, but had spent the night tossing and turning in misery. His brain kept replaying his conversation with Alys on a loop. Her declaration that she wouldn’t move. Her insistence that what they had here was enough for her. And her claim that Gale’s plan to take Mystra’s place at the Museum would end not in professional triumph, but in scandal and damage to Gale’s reputation.

She’d heard what he imagined for their future, and her response had been quick and immediate. She didn’t want any of it. And Gale was torn between hurt that she had discarded his suggestions so quickly, and a gnawing fear that she had also discarded him.

“All right. Out with it.” Gale heard Tara leap from the ground and felt her land on his feet. “You came home last night with a face so long it practically dragged on the ground, and now you’re lying abed at a thoroughly unreasonable hour.”

“It’s seven fifteen,” Gale protested.

“Yes, exactly. Fifteen minutes past our usual mealtime,” Tara reminded him. “So what is going on?”

Gale felt his throat tighten in misery. “I had an argument with Alys yesterday.”

“Ah. I rather suspected,” Tara said sympathetically. “Come now, Mr. Dekarios. Tell me everything.”

Gale nearly sent her away, nearly said that he didn’t want to talk about this. But there was a steely note in Tara’s voice that made it clear that tell me everything was not a suggestion—and he knew well that there was no dissuading the tressym when she decided something was necessary.

And so, reluctantly, he sat up in bed, crossing his legs and leaning back against a set of pillows for support. Tara leapt into his lap and curled up there, silently offering him her support, and in spite of his miserable mood Gale could not help but feel more at peace as he stroked her wings and fur.

The story flowed from him with surprising ease. He told Tara about Lorroakan’s visit, about the stupid thing he’d blurted out to shut the man up. He explained the plan he’d shared with Alys, his path to running the museum he’d always imagined working at, how he’d assured her that there would be a place for her in the city.

“But… she said she doesn’t want to go to Waterdeep. Not for ‘someone she’s been dating for six weeks.’” Gale scowled. “She’s upset I’m not planning to stay in Baldur’s Gate for her, but she won’t even consider moving for me—for the job I’ve been planning for throughout my entire career. She said I’m using her as a stepping stone back to my old life. And that if I make Mystra’s message public the scandal would damage me as much as her.” He hated how petulant he sounded, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. 

Tara paused delicately. “Well. That’s rather a lot to think about, isn’t it?”

Gale looked down at her and narrowed his eyes. “Say it, Tara. Whatever you’re thinking, just say it.”

Tara leapt from his lap and arranged herself at the edge of his bed, sitting up primly, her head tilted in her proudest pose. “Does this mean you’re going to listen to my advice, Mr. Dekarios? I do hope so.” She ruffled her wings. “I have two questions for you. First, was the Museum your dream, or Mystra’s?”

Gale opened his mouth to say it was his. But the words would not come out. Because the truth was, the Museum had been Mystra’s goal. Gale had gone to graduate school to become a professor, to teach classes and mentor students and spend his life talking about magic. He appreciated museums, understood how much work and expertise went into a good display and into artifact preservation. But he’d never imagined himself working in one before Mystra had informed him that their professional path would lead to running the Museum.

“It… may have been Mystra’s idea,” he allowed. “But that does not make it a bad one.”

“Perhaps not,” Tara admitted. “But you should also consider how you would get there. Professor Towerfell’s assessment, that attempting to ruin Mystra’s reputation would do you nearly as much harm as it would do her, strikes me as an accurate one. Someone with Mystra’s status will always have her defenders—and you know full well how vicious her allies can be.”

Gale winced at the accuracy of that. 

“But let’s put that aside for now. For my second question, I would like you to imagine two scenarios,” the tressym continued briskly. “In the first, you stay here in Baldur’s Gate with things as they are. In the second, you get that job. You move back to Waterdeep without Professor Towerfell.”

Without Professor Towerfell. Gale suddenly felt cold all over.

“In this second scenario, I would go with you, of course,” Tara continued. “Your mother would be delighted to welcome you back. But picture yourself there. Truly picture it. What do you do at work during the day? Who else is in your life? Are you happy? Happier than you are now—than you would be if you had stayed?”

And suddenly, Gale could see it as clearly as if he were living it. He would find another apartment in Waterdeep like this one, fill it with half-suitable furniture. But there was no one besides his mother whom he’d call to invite over, no one he’d look forward to reconnecting with over lunch or coffee. There would be no Moonlight Wine Bar with friends to talk to. At work, there would be interesting colleagues and fascinating artifacts, but no students to ask questions and glow with pride when they got the answers right. He’d have to transfer Rolan to another advisor after the tiefling had only just begun to recover some of his progress towards his degree.

Worst of all, there would be no Alys. She wouldn’t be there to beg for five more minutes of cuddling, to kiss him goodbye in the morning, to argue with him over the wording of their papers or debate the best way to approach a problem in the lab. She’d be here in Baldur’s Gate—and every morning when he woke, he’d wish he was in her apartment making breakfast for them both.

He loved her. More than he loved Waterdeep. And far more than he loved the imaginary life he might have if he carried out his plan.

He leaned back against his headboard and groaned. “... I’ve made rather a mess of things, haven’t I.”

“Oh yes, your plan to depose Mystra was quite terrible,” Tara said cheerfully. “But it’s been less than a day since your argument with Professor Towerfell. I hardly think the situation is unsalvageable.”

“It will probably be days more before she’s willing to even speak to me,” Gale said morosely, slumping back under his covers.

“That was Mystra’s reaction to your spats.” Tara looked at him and tilted her head. “Granted, I find mortals difficult to understand, but Professor Towerfell did not strike me as the sort of person to employ the silent treatment. And you’ll never know unless you make the attempt, hmmm?” Pointedly, she looked over at Gale’s phone, which was sitting uncharged on top of a pile of laundry.

Gale took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and rose from the bed, mentally composing a text message as he crossed the room. But the imaginary message erased itself the moment he turned on the screen and saw the alerts.

AT: I don’t like how we left things yesterday. Could we talk?

Unexpected tears stung Gale’s eyes. She’d texted early this morning.

His fingers almost shaking, he hit the button to call her. She picked up on the second ring.

“Gale?”

“Do you want to come over?” he blurted. “To my apartment. I could make breakfast, if you haven’t eaten. And I—I think we should talk, too.”

On the other end of the line, he heard her let out a soft, relieved sigh. “Yes. I’d like that a lot. I’ll be right over.”

Alys had been preparing to go to the gym when she got Gale’s call. It occurred to her about halfway through the walk to his apartment that perhaps she ought to have changed—her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and underneath her coat she wore an oversized t-shirt over leggings. It was not the outfit she would have chosen for a date.

But this wasn’t a date. It was… a serious talk. One that might well end in a breakup, if they couldn’t bring themselves to see eye to eye. Maybe it wasn’t reasonable for Alys to move for a new relationship—but that also meant it wasn’t reasonable to expect Gale to stay for one, either. And Gale loved Waterdeep. Every time he’d talked about the city she could sense how much he missed it.

Alys swallowed hard at that thought, but forced her legs to keep moving. If a breakup was where they were headed, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Running in the other direction certainly wouldn’t change anything for the better.

Gale lived on the top floor of a townhouse that had been converted into apartments. Alys climbed the three flights of stairs by taking the steps two at a time, trying to outrun her feeling of dread. She’d only been here once, and had barely been inside a handful of minutes; Gale had been almost apologetic about showing it to her and had never suggested they meet here. She didn’t know how to interpret the fact that he’d invited her over after their first— last? —fight as a couple.

She stared at his door for a full five breaths, trying to conquer her nerves. Then, resolutely, she squared her shoulders and knocked.

The door sprang open almost immediately.

“Alys! Come in! I’m sorry, the pancakes are at a rather delicate stage—but there’s bacon on the table, and coffee, and grapefruit and orange juice, and… oh, gods, I forgot the sugar for the coffee. Wait, you don’t take sugar. Never mind.”

Gale was talking fast, rushing through the kitchen, flipping a pancake and looking through his cabinets and staring at the feast on his kitchen table as if he was certain there was something wrong with it. He still wore his pajama pants and the worn t-shirt he usually slept in, and he’d put an apron on over them; it read Kiss the Wizard.

Alys felt her dread begin to melt away. In her experience, breakups didn’t usually begin with someone making her pancakes from scratch. Although there’s a first time for everything.

“It looks wonderful,” she said honestly. “Can I do anything?”

“No, no, I just need to finish here, and…” Gale turned to her, an oven mitt on one hand and a spatula in the other, his brown eyes wide and anxious. “Oh, gods, I can’t wait any more to say it. I’m so sorry, Alys. I can’t imagine what you must think of me after yesterday.”

Alys blinked in surprise. “I do understand why you’d want to go back to Waterdeep, Gale,” she said hesitantly. “Your mother is there, and you lived there so long, and…”

“And I was planning to return there in the messiest, most unpleasant way possible. And I told Lorroakan Athkatla about it, of all people, before I told you.” Gale shook his head. “You gave me good advice yesterday. Trying to take Mystra’s job would be an ugly affair that would do me as much harm as it might do her. My pride prevented me from hearing it in the moment—but you’re right, and that won’t be a path I pursue any further.” 

He looked at her with worry etched on every line of his face. “I can only hope that will be enough.”

Oh, Alys thought, half dazed. He thought that I might break up with him.

She crossed the kitchen and wrapped him in a hug, apron and oven mitt and all, blinking back tears. “Of course it’s enough,” she assured him. “You thought about what I said and changed your mind because of it—what more could I want?”

Gale wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back, a teary little laugh rumbling in his chest. “I am not quite sure what I did to deserve you, Alys Towerfell.”

“While we’re apologizing—I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t care enough to think about our future,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “This—us—it’s serious for me. And if you really have your heart set on Waterdeep I…”

“Oh, hang Waterdeep.” Gale leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “Waterdeep, I can live without. But you? Absolutely not.” He paused. “I—I’m in love with you, Alys. I hope it’s not too soon to say that but I—”

“I love you too,” she blurted.

“Ah. Good.” He chuckled. “I’d have felt like a bit of an ass otherwise.”

Then, suddenly, his eyes slid to the right. “Tara!”

Alys turned her head and stifled a laugh. Tara was standing in the middle of the table, munching on a strip of bacon. She swallowed it with great dignity and met Gale’s gaze.

“You were occupied, and I was hungry,” the tressym said in crisp Common. “Also, your pancake is burning.”

Gale swore under his breath and turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake with a wince. Alys stepped back and took a seat at the table to give him space; she’d learned by now that Gale preferred to be the only cook in the kitchen at moments like this.

“Good morning, by the way, Professor Towerfell,” Tara said, favoring her with a little nod.

Alys caught her breath. Tara was addressing her directly? In Common? “Good morning, Tara,” she replied, smiling at the tressym.

“I’m relieved you didn’t think much of his scheme to depose Mystra. Between the two of us we’ve managed to talk some sense into him, I believe,” Tara continued, looking at Gale fondly. “I don’t suppose you’d help me get rid of that ghastly beard?”

“I, um, like the beard,” Alys admitted.

“Mortals,” Tara said with a disgusted sigh. “There’s no accounting for your taste. Ah well. I suspect you lovebirds will be wanting a bit of privacy now. So, off I pop.” She took another piece of bacon into her mouth—two pieces, actually—before vanishing in a little rush of air.

Gale brought two plates of pancakes to the table, a slightly apologetic look on his face. “I’ll take the burned one.”

“I distracted you,” Alys insisted, reaching for the plate in question.

Gale pulled it from her reach with a grin—then suddenly tilted his head in concern. “Where did Tara go?”

“She, ah.” Alys felt herself blush a bit. “She said she wanted to give us some privacy. In Common,” she added brightly. “Which I think means she’s decided I’m acceptable?”

“More than acceptable,” Gale assured her, setting the pancakes down at their respective places. “It’s practically her stamp of approval.” He cleared his throat as he sat down. “Considerate of her to give us the place to ourselves, as well.”

Alys was reaching for the syrup, but paused. “How soon do you think she’ll be back?”

“We probably have a few hours.” A pink blush began to warm Gale’s cheeks. “On the other hand, we can’t be sure. And I could keep these warm in the oven for a bit. Make a new pot of coffee later. If there was anything else we wanted to do first.”

Alys was momentarily torn. On the one hand, everything on the table smelled very tempting. On the other—Gale Dekarios had just told her that he loved her, and she loved him, and it suddenly felt very important to show him with more than just words.

She stood from the table. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t had a tour of your apartment yet.”

Gale blinked in surprise. “Oh! You’d like…? Well, there’s not much to see, if I’m being honest. It’s rather small, and I’m still working on decorating it, and truthfully I don’t have your splendid eye for…”

“I’d still like to see it.” Alys raised a teasing eyebrow. “Maybe the tour could end in the bedroom?”

“Oh!” Gale’s blush deepened as he caught her meaning. “I see. A tour.” He stood from the table. “Let me just put these in the oven, then.” He grinned at her. “That sort of tour could take a while, after all.”

Gale truly did not know how he’d gotten so lucky.

He was lying in his bed with Alys, kissing her deeply, and she was kissing him back with abandon, her hands reaching under his shirt to stroke his back. She’d removed his ridiculous novelty apron with as much enthusiasm as she used to untie his ties, and his hands had shaken ever so slightly as he peeled her oversized t-shirt from her body, as if it had been weeks and not days since he last saw her naked.

She was so beautiful lying on his bed, nestled in his pillows and blankets, that he could not believe he’d been afraid to bring her here.

With a groan, he pinned her beneath him and pushed her sports bra up, freeing her breasts to his touch. He pulled her nipple into his mouth eagerly, sucking hard, using his hand to pinch and tease the other nipple just the way he knew she liked. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she moaned in enjoyment. He conjured a bit of ice magic to his fingertips—only a touch, just enough to turn her skin cold, just enough to make her gasp in surprise—and followed it with the warmth of his mouth, taking the other nipple against his tongue, licking until the cold had vanished.

“Gods, I love it when you do that,” Alys whispered, wriggling underneath him, rocking her hips into him greedily. 

“Oh, indeed?” Gale looked up at her and arched a playful eyebrow. She’d told him this before, of course, but he liked pretending it was the first time he’d been made aware of it. Alys loved to be praised in bed, loved to hear how she was making him feel—and realizing that had awakened something very similar in Gale.

“Yes.” She beamed down at him, stroking her fingers through his beard. “Just when I think I can’t love magic any more, you come up with some wonderful new use for it.”

Grinning, Gale reached up to push her bra above her head. Alys stretched her arms high as he eased the snug garment over them—and as he slid the bra over her wrists, an image flooded his mind, and his breath caught as he remembered a recent shopping trip he hadn’t told her about just yet.

“Alys. Would you be interested in trying something with me?”

She propped herself up on an elbow, her eyes lighting with curiosity. “What do you have in mind?”

“Handcuffs.” He curved his fingers around one of her wrists. “Though I’m realizing now I should have asked you before I bought them.”

“Gale Dekarios, are you offering to handcuff me naked to this bed?” Alys asked, her alto low and husky. “Or do you want to be the one in them?”

He actually felt his heart skip a beat at the look on her face. “I’d like to try both, eventually,” he admitted. “Though what I was imagining right now was using them on you. If you’re amenable.” 

She reached for his face and cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. “I think you’ll find me very amenable to that proposal,” she whispered.

“Splendid.” He kissed her once, fiercely, before pulling away. “Get undressed while I find them.”

His heart was racing with lust and nerves as he pulled the shopping bag from his closet and pulled out what he’d bought—a pair of lined black-and-white wrist restraints with a chain in between them, purchased half on a whim one weekend when Alys had been away. 

“You’re going to have to tell me where you got those.” She smiled as he turned around and met her gaze. “Maybe next time you’ll take me shopping with you. I’d like to see what else catches your eye.”

She was lying naked on top of his covers, her clothes discarded on the floor, her coppery scales gleaming in the morning light. She’d let her hair out of its ponytail and it fell over her shoulders in loose white curls, forming a stunning contrast to her dark skin. Gale swallowed as a wave of lust flooded him, threatening to drive him to his knees before her.

She caught his expression and smiled. Slowly, deliberately, she lay back against the bed and raised her arms above her head.

As his heart pounded in his chest, Gale climbed onto the bed next to her. He wrapped the first cuff around her left wrist, threaded the chain carefully through the rungs of his bedframe, fastened the second cuff around her right. Alys’s tongue moistened her lips as she watched him work, and he could see her breath speed just a bit in her chest.

“Gods, Alys, you should see how you look right now,” he said softly, stroking a hand down her body, following every dip and swell of her curves. She was stretched out before him, vulnerable and trusting, excitement and hunger in her eyes as she looked at him. Gale had never thought himself a possessive man, but it felt right now as if Alys had declared herself his by surrendering her hands and waiting for his touch, and he had never wanted her more. “You’re incredible.”

He summoned the hint of ice magic again and trailed his fingertips over her lips, traced them across her throat, down the valley between her breasts and over the soft curve of her stomach. Her little hum of pleasure turned to a gasp as he slid his fingers lower, parting her soft folds, using the cold to tease her clit as she whimpered.

She moved her legs, bending her knees, opening herself to him, and Gale slid two fingers inside her, finding her wet and eager. She twisted her body against his fingers, seeking more, and Gale slid a third finger inside to stretch her tight.

“Your mouth,” she groaned. “Use your mouth. Please, Gale, please.”

With a groan, he pulled his fingers away and settled his head between her legs, tasting her eagerly, feeling the remnants of the cold against his tongue and licking until they’d vanished and her breath was coming fast. He knew her body well enough, now, to know just how to get her to her orgasm, just how to use his tongue and fingers to make her cry out. And he used that knowledge to stop her just before she reached her breaking point, to slow down and pull back just when she needed him to speed his pace.

She whined in protest, her hips bucking up to follow him as he pulled away, the chain pulling tight as she tried to reach for him but was held back. He sat up between her legs and arched a playful eyebrow. “Did you want something?”

She swallowed, heat flooding her face as she realized his game. “I w-want you to make me come,” she said breathlessly. “I want you inside me.”

“In a bit. You’re so beautiful right now. I need to enjoy it just a bit longer.” Slowly, deliberately, Gale stood from the bed and stripped his shirt off, then eased his pants over his hips. Once he was naked, he took his cock into his hand, stroking it slowly as he looked at her.

Alys let out a groan. “You look so hot like that,” she gasped. “Hells, Gale. I think I might die if you don’t touch me.”

“Patience is a virtue, Alys Towerfell.” Gale could hear more than a hint of self-satisfaction in his voice, but he rather thought that the sight of Alys disheveled and bound and desperate for him would have stroked anyone’s ego.

Part of Gale wanted to draw this out as long as he could, wanted to stay in this moment of anticipation forever. But he could feel himself nearing his own edge, and he knew how he wanted to get there. So he climbed back onto the bed and pressed his cock against her folds, sheathing himself in one hard thrust as she cried out. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, cupping her cheek with his hand. “You’re so good for me, taking my cock like that. Do you want more?” 

Alys moaned and nodded as she clenched tight around him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He began moving inside her with long, slow strokes, relishing the way her hips rocked into his, pulling him deeper inside her.

“Is this what you needed, sweetheart?” he murmured, speeding his pace.

“Yes,” she sobbed. “Gods, yes, it feels so good when you fuck me.”

He kissed her and reached his hands up, twining his fingers through hers, pinning her even more securely beneath him as she whimpered into his mouth. He fucked her hard and deep, giving himself over to his own hunger and desire, and he felt her shake with release as she came, breaking their kiss to tilt her head back and cry out.

With a groan, Gale shifted positions, propping himself up with his arms, looking down at her as he entered her. Her eyes were squeezed tight, her face flushed, her lips parted; her fingers were twisting around the chain to the cuffs. She was lost in sensation and completely in the moment and so gorgeous he thought he might lose his mind.

He spent inside her with a loud cry, trembling above her as her legs tightened around his waist. He let himself collapse against her, tucking his face into her neck and pressing kisses there as he wrapped his arms around her. He felt her arms move beneath him, as if to return the hug, and he heard her laugh as the chain of the handcuffs made a rattling noise against his bedframe. Laughing with her, he reached for the buckles on the cuffs and freed her hands, pulling her against his chest as he rolled onto his back in the bed. 

They lay there like that for a long while, regaining their breath, snuggled close in the mess they’d made of Gale’s covers. Gale looked up at the ceiling with a wide, joyous, grateful smile. Barely a few hours ago he’d been lying here wallowing in self-pity and misery, certain he’d ruined things with this woman. But not only had she forgiven him, she’d told him she loved him—and now he was lying here naked with her in his arms.

In spite of how it had started, Gale couldn’t remember a better day.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So,” he asked. “Was the tour to your satisfaction?”

Alys laughed, her voice a bit husky. “Oh yes, it was excellent. Though it’s hard to take it all in at once.” She raised her eyebrow up at him. “I may have to come back.”

“What an excellent notion.” Gale hugged her tight. “I already can’t wait.”

Chapter Text

Gale’s next weeks passed by quickly in a rush of teaching, research, and Alys. The two of them devoted their work hours to finishing their article and polishing their presentation; they spent nights together at her apartment and his, their bond stronger and deeper than ever. And before Gale knew it he was stepping out of Waterdeep’s central train station, Alys at his side and Tara on his shoulder, on the day before their presentation to the AMMS.

It felt like stepping into an old memory. The familiar, shining skyline of the city stretched out to the west; he could hear the sounds of the ocean coming from a few blocks to the east; the smell of a Waterdhavian food truck nearly made him weak with nostalgia. 

And then a wave of anxiety crested to match that nostalgia. 

When Gale had come back for the holidays he had misinterpreted his anxiety as longing, as a wish to move back. But now he could feel it for what it was: all his old feelings of being not good enough, of feeling that he was falling short, brought back to the present by being in his old city.

He loved Waterdeep. But there were ghosts for him here.

He put that thought aside as best he could to make his way to their hotel, where they checked in and picked up their conference badges. After leaving their bags in the hotel room—and unpacking the astonishingly large gift basket Alys had somehow managed to fit in her suitcase—the two of them were standing on his mother’s doorstep.

Alys frowned down at the gift basket in her arms. “I picked fig jam. Should I have gotten sour cherry? Or maybe honey?”

“She’s going to love it,” Gale assured her. He was going to say something about how his mother appreciated anything that could be spread on warm buttered bread and was going to be especially grateful for the bottle of wine Alys had brought, but before he could the door sprang open and Morena Dekarios was beaming out at them. 

Morena was in her mid-sixties and her hair was now more silver than brown, and the strands glittered in the softer light of late day. Her face was etched with laugh lines and her eyes were warm and proud as she looked at her son. She was wearing a brightly colored apron over her clothes and still had a spoon in her hand; Gale suspected that she had spent all day in the kitchen, and knew she would lie and say she’d barely lifted a finger if he asked. 

“Welcome! Come in, come in!” Morena said, stepping back to let them inside, gesturing emphatically with the spoon.

“Hello, hello, my dear Mrs. Dekarios. Delightful to see you.” Tara leapt down from Gale’s shoulder. “I’ll just make myself at home.”

Gale leaned in and hugged his mother the moment he stepped through the doorway. “It’s so good to see you,” he murmured warmly. “Mother, this is Alys.”

Alys stepped forward and held out her gift basket. “Thank you so much for having me,” she said, her smile a little stiff. “I brought a few things. Um. Gale mentioned you liked jams, and wine, and candles, and may have said you liked muffins? So there’s a bit of all those things in here.”

For just a second, Gale held his breath. Not that Morena would ever be rude to a guest, of course—he just wanted so badly for this to go well, for the two of them to like each other.

Fortunately, his mother beamed as she took the basket. “This is so thoughtful, thank you! I’m thrilled to meet you at last, Alys. Come into the kitchen, all of you. I insist on hearing everything about your trip.”

With a relieved smile, Alys stepped through the door. Gale reached for her hand and squeezed it as they followed his mother inside.

Morena had prepared a Waterdhavian feast, spiced vegetables and fish with hondur sauce and an array of flatbreads on the side, with roasted apricots in honey for dessert. They all ate enthusiastically—particularly Tara, who was full of praise for the fish—and conversation flowed more easily than Gale had dared hope. Morena was open and warm with Alys, and Alys responded with warmth in turn, asking Morena about her work as an accountant and her neighborhood and the recipes she’d used for the dinner. Gale said less than he usually did. He told himself it was to give his mother a chance to get to know the woman he loved.

When the plates were empty, Morena stood and brushed her hands together briskly. “Well. Why don’t you kids take a moment out on the balcony while I clean this up.”

“Cooks should never clean,” Alys replied sternly, pushing herself to a stand as well. “You and Gale should have a chance to catch up. I’ll handle the dishes.”

“Oh, Alys, no. You’re a guest!” Morena protested. “And it’s a big job.”

Alys grinned. “I’ll have help.” With a snap of her fingers, she summoned a pair of spectral hands. Gale swallowed, hard, as he remembered the last activity Alys had used her twinned mage hands for.

“Go, you two.” Alys made a shooing motion; the mage hands echoed her a beat later. “I can handle this.”

“I’ll keep you company, dear.” Tara ruffled her wings. “I may not have opposable thumbs, but I’m sure I can help here and there.”

“Are you going to try to talk me into shaving Gale’s beard again?” Alys asked wryly as she took a stack of dishes into the kitchen.

“I’m becoming predictable,” Tara said mournfully, following her through the door.

Gale watched them go with a smile, then followed his mother out onto the balcony of her apartment. Morena lived on the waterfront; her balcony had once been his favorite spot in the universe, the place where he would dive into a book and forget whatever had happened at school that day. It still gave him a feeling of peace to settle down on the bench and look at the sun shining over the water.

Morena smiled at him and patted his hand. “In case you’re wondering what I think: Alys is lovely,” she whispered. 

Gale felt his mouth quirk up. “Oh, I know it,” he said with a smile. “But I’m glad you agree.”

Morena watched him for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. “You were a bit quiet at dinner tonight, dear. Is everything all right?”

Gale let out a long breath and stared out at the water. The truth was, he had been struggling with a growing sense of unease as the date of this trip drew closer and closer. Ordinarily he would have told Alys about it, would have sought her counsel and reassurance—but he could not bring himself to confide this. Alys might well wonder why his thoughts turned to his former lover when he had such a wonderful current one at his side, and he could not bear to hurt her.

“Mystra is likely to be at the conference,” he told his mother. “She may even come to see our paper. And I—I have not been looking forward to seeing her again.” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “It’s so strange. When she first ended our relationship I was desperate to be in the same room with her. I thought if I could remind her of how things once were between us, beg her forgiveness in just the right way, I might be restored to her good graces. But now—now that’s not something I want any more. And not just because of Alys.”

He sighed. “With time and distance between us, I’ve come to realize that our relationship was imbalanced. That I was dazzled by Mystra’s brilliance, blinded by her reputation, all too eager to make excuses for her. And—gods, Mother.” He sat back against the bench with a thump as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I just feel so foolish. For dating my advisor. For staying with her for so long. For not seeing that she didn’t love me the way I loved her.”

A faint film of tears shimmered in Morena’s eyes as she squeezed Gale’s hand. “I do think Mystra loved you, dear,” she said gently. “As best she could, at any rate. But—her best was often a bit cold and self-interested. You're scolding yourself for dating your advisor, but she was the one who dated her student.” She shook her head, her mouth thinning unhappily. “I’ve always wondered if I should have tried harder to dissuade you back when the relationship began. I told myself that you were an adult and it was not my place to interfere, but…”

“Had you said something, I would not have listened,” Gale admitted ruefully. “I was utterly smitten. But now—the thought of seeing her in person inspires dread rather than longing.” 

“She probably will be at your talk,” Morena said candidly. “It would be like her to keep tabs on what you’re doing. But would that be so terrible? It sounds as if you’re proud of this work, and I’m certain your talk will be excellent.”

Gale frowned in thought. The talk would be excellent, but… “I doubt she will be impressed no matter how well it goes. She’s never thought much of my interest in Netherese artifacts.”

Morena arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter if she’s impressed?”

“I know the answer ought to be no,” Gale sighed after a pause. “But I will admit that I would prefer for her to be wowed by what we’ve done. To admit to herself, if not to me, that she was wrong to tell me this project was not worthy of her time.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “That would be rather out of character for her, though. She is not given to self-doubt.”

The truth was, the thought of Mystra’s reaction to this work made him feel a bit sick. Every time he’d seen Mystra after the breakup, she had looked at him with cool disappointment in her gaze, as if he had failed her again by daring to cross her path, and he had felt that disappointment cut something deep within him. He had come so far since leaving Waterdeep, but some part of him could not help but feel that if he saw that look in her eyes again, he would lose everything he’d gained. That he’d be right back to the man he’d been a year ago, a heartbroken wreck all but sleepwalking through his life.

But… no. He’d run into Mystra dozens of times in the months before he left Waterdeep, and as much as it had hurt, her disdain had not ended him. He’d found another position. He’d restarted his work in a new city. He had dedicated himself to a project that Mystra had deemed worthless and done the best work of his career. And he had found Alys, found the courage to fall in love again.

Mystra could react however she pleased. It would not change how far he’d come.

“I suppose,” he said slowly, “all I can do is expect that she will be there, and that she will say something cutting, and that I will survive it.”

Morena reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I think that sounds very wise.”

The sound of the sliding doors caused both of them to turn. Alys was moving onto the balcony with the last bites of Morena’s dessert in one hand and three clean spoons in the other. Though it had barely been a handful of minutes since he saw her last, Gale felt something in him relax as her face came into view. 

“I think we should finish this,” Alys announced, holding the dessert out to Gale. “I considered eating it all myself, of course, but Tara said this is Gale’s favorite and informed me that I have to share.”

Gale slid down on the bench to give her a place to sit and took the dish with a smile. “I will take you up on that happily.”

The three of them took turns finishing the apricots, chatting idly, watching the sun set over the water. And Gale leaned his shoulder against Alys’s and breathed deep.

Whatever came tomorrow, he would face it at her side.

Alys had been staring at the ceiling of their hotel room for roughly twenty minutes when she gave up and gave in. Moving as silently as she could, she slipped from the bed she was sharing with Gale, crossed the room, and pulled her laptop from her bag.

She settled into the room’s only chair—a reclined armchair that had definitely not been designed for this kind of thing—and balanced the computer on her knees as she opened its lid. The moment she entered her password, the screen filled with the slides for their presentation the next day.

“Alys. What are you doing?”

Alys startled and looked over the top of her screen. Gale was watching her from the bed, propped up on one elbow, his eyes heavy with sleep. She winced apologetically. “Sorry. Is the light bothering you?” 

Gale rubbed a hand over his face. “Please tell me you’re not reviewing those figures again.”

“Just once more,” she confessed, pushing her hair back from her forehead with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just—ugh, what am I doing?” She let her head collapse back against the recliner. “You know how these talks go, how there’s a handful of people in the audience and you get two questions that are really comments and then it’s over. Why am I so nervous about this?”

But even as she asked the question, she knew its answer. She was nervous because this work was the culmination of everything she’d been trying to do since finishing her degree. Not only that, it was a milestone for Gale as well. She could have lived with a subpar delivery of her own work; the consequences would have fallen on her alone. But the idea of being less than perfect here in Waterdeep, with Gale’s old colleagues in the audience, felt unbearable.

Especially if Mystra Ryll was going to be there. Gale had not mentioned his old collaborator and lover by name in months, but she had noticed a certain tightness around his mouth and tension in his voice when they talked about the conference—and she had a pretty good idea of what he and Morena had been discussing on the balcony earlier. 

“Personally I’m quite happy with our talk,” Gale assured her. “But I think you may be underestimating the interest in our paper. If you really want to go through our slides one final time, I’ll help.” He squinted and frowned. “If I can find my glasses, that is.”

“On the nightstand,” Alys offered helpfully. “But—no, Gale. Go back to sleep. I don’t want to keep you up.”

“Unfortunately, it seems I’ve gotten spoiled, and can no longer sleep without my girlfriend next to me,” Gale told her with a little laugh. “So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me helping.” He arched an eyebrow. “Unless you want to admit that our figures are excellent and come back to bed.”

Alys frowned at him. “You’re just trying to get me to go to sleep, aren’t you?” she asked wryly.

“Perish the thought,” Gale said airily. “My offer of aid is most sincere.”

Alys’s eyes flickered down to her laptop screen. The figures explaining their reconstruction methods looked exactly the same as they had the last time she opened this file, when she and Gale had agreed that they were finished and needed no more changes.

With a resolute breath, she closed her laptop screen. “Ugh, fine. I won’t change anything else. It’s done. We’ll give this talk tomorrow morning with the slides exactly the way they are now.” She set her laptop aside and stood. “Are you happy?”

“Extremely.” Gale patted the spot on the bed at his side. When Alys climbed into the covers, he tucked her into a warm hug, rubbing a hand up and down her spine, soothing some of the tension from her body. “Does it help to hear that I’m a bit anxious myself?”

Alys hugged him back, letting herself soak in his solid warmth, reveling in the prickle of his beard as he kissed her cheek. “A little,” she admitted, drawing a deep breath. “Gods, I can’t wait for this to be over.”

Gale kissed her forehead. “Tell you what. I’ll make a reservation for dinner tomorrow night. Whatever happens, we will get to spend the evening enjoying a romantic oceanside dinner and some of the city’s finest Waterdhavian delights. Not to mention each others’ company.”

Alys smiled and shifted in the bed, raising up on one elbow to press a kiss to his lips. “As always, Gale Dekarios, you are full of brilliant ideas.”

Gale and Alys were the first people in their presentation room the next morning. It was a typical hotel conference room, a windowless square space with rows of green chairs set in front of a generic podium and a projection screen. The two of them carefully connected Alys’s laptop to the projector, pushing through an alarming moment when it seemed the hotel’s equipment would not turn on, then sharing a relieved sigh when their opening slide flickered into view.

That slide showed their paper’s new title: “Reconstruction of the Crown of Karsus.”

They had made that change just in time for it to be reflected in the program, and it showed in the size of their audience. By eight fifty-five, five minutes before the appointed start time, nearly every seat in the room was taken. Gale tried to find that encouraging, but he could not help noticing that many of the expressions in the audience were somewhere on the spectrum between skeptical and amused. Most of the attendees, clearly, did not expect to be convinced that he and Alys had actually found the Crown of Karsus, much less rebuilt it. 

And he had not seen Mystra enter.

Just as he began to feel on the verge of a spiral, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Alys was looking at him with her familiar intensity, her eyes bright and shining, a little smile curving her lips. All of the previous evening’s anxieties seemed to have melted away with a good night’s sleep; she radiated focus and confidence as she met his eyes.

“We’ve got this,” she said softly. “Shall we get started?”

Gale nodded as some, but not all, of his nerves vanished. 

Whatever comes next, he told himself as he stepped to the podium, it will all be over in thirty minutes.

He and Alys had practiced this talk carefully, rehearsing it more than once to make sure they transitioned smoothly between segments of the talk. Gale opened their joint presentation by explaining the discovery of the fragments, accounting for their provenance. Alys then stepped up and presented the portions on the reconstruction methodology, playing videos of them working spells in tandem, finishing with a video panning around the fully reconstructed artifact. 

Soft gasps filled the room at that visual, and Gale bit back a smile. It was time for him to bring this home.

He stepped back to the podium, accepting the clicker from Alys. “Based on the shape and function of the completed artifact, on contemporaneous accounts by Netherese sages, and on the results of our magical-dating analysis, we are confident that this artifact is indeed the original Crown of Karsus.” He clicked to advance the slides. “Here, we see descriptions of the original Crown from various Netherese tomes and grimoires, including several illustrations…”

As always, he went a bit over time. But it was only a minute or so, and the applause from the audience when he finished seemed enthusiastic and genuine. Alys gave him a small thumbs-up before stepping to his side at the podium and leaning into the microphone. “We’ll now welcome any questions you have.”

Six hands shot up immediately. That was either a good sign, or a very bad one. Gale pointed to one at random. “You, in the second row.”

A gnome stood on his chair and frowned speculatively at them. “Barcus Wroot, Blingdenstone University. Dr. Towerfell, I wonder if you could explain the imaging technology you used to construct that map of the spellwork.”

Alys nodded. “Of course. You’ll find the full description of my technique in a paper I published last year in the Sorcerous Transactions, but to give a short account…”

As Alys explained her work, Gale looked over the audience, collecting a mental tally of who was waiting to ask a question. His gaze swept the rows of spectators one by one, trying to make sure he didn’t miss anyone. 

And then a face in the second-to-last row made his breath freeze in his chest.

Dr. Mystra Ryll was sitting there in a snug navy blue sheath dress, her long hair smooth over her shoulders. As Gale’s eyes met hers, she arched an eyebrow, her expression shifting from coolly skeptical to slightly amused. It was the expression she had on her face when she was preparing to put a graduate student in their place, an expression that had often preceded a desperate scramble for Gale to prove himself.

He braced himself for a wave of the old trepidation, the old anxiety. But to his shock, he felt… nothing. No desire to please her, no fear that he had somehow put a foot wrong. He knew this work was good, damn it. And he didn’t need Mystra’s approval to confirm it.

As Alys wrapped up her answer to Barcus Wroot, she followed Gale’s gaze. Her eyes turned flinty as she realized who he was looking at. She glanced at him with an arched eyebrow, as if to ask, should I call on her?

Gale gave her a slight nod. Let’s get it over with .

“There in the back,” Alys said, pointing directly at Mystra.

Gale’s ex-lover rose from her seat, giving the audience a benevolent smile, as if she were about to bestow them with a great gift. “Mystra Ryll, Head Curator at the Museum of Magical Antiquities,” she said, her voice echoing in the room. “And I should admit a personal interest here. Gale used to be my graduate student.”

She met Gale’s eyes and beamed. To anyone else, the expression must have seemed friendly—but Gale could see that the smile did not quite reach her eyes.

He smiled back, trying to make the expression as bland as possible. “Indeed. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Very interesting paper,” Mystra said, sweeping her eyes over their concluding slide. “A nice little side project.”

That stabbed deeper than Gale would have liked. This was not a “little” project—it was a major achievement, and he could not help but feel stung at having it minimized in front of so many colleagues. But to his shock, a disapproving murmur rose in the room at Mystra’s words.

“Little project? It’s the Crown of bloody Karsus! ” Barcus Wroot grumbled audibly to a fellow gnome.

Mystra blinked, startled, and cleared her throat. “That is to say, Netherese artifacts lack the significance of later magical constructs, but this is still a fine piece of work. I’d be delighted to invite you to submit the Crown for display consideration at the museum—provided, of course, that the work you’ve described can be verified.” She arched an eyebrow at Gale in a clear challenge.

“What a delightful offer,” Gale lied cheerfully. “We would of course welcome an independent confirmation of our findings. And my coauthor and I would be happy to consider the Museum as a future home for the Crown.”

He glanced over at Alys, wondering how she was taking this. His girlfriend was wearing her calmest expression. “Indeed,” she said evenly. “Although I believe there would be some financial details to work out with BGU, since they funded the reconstruction work.” She smiled. “But let’s leave that to the lawyers, shall we? Next question—yes, you in the third row.”

Mystra blinked in shock. She’d clearly had more to say—but Alys had moved on before asking if she was done, and now the attention in the room was refocused on a tall elven wizard in the third row who had a question about one of the grimoires Gale had mentioned. After a pause, Mystra sat down, her back ramrod straight and her face so expressionless that Gale knew she was angry.

Wonder of wonders, Gale found that he truly did not care. He did not relish Mystra’s anger—but nor was he desperately racking his brain for a way to fix it. Her frustration was hers to carry and not his to mend.

And with that realization, Gale felt suddenly and gloriously free.

The ten minutes of Q&A flew by. When Alys and Gale officially wrapped up their presentation time, there was a line of people waiting to ask them questions there hadn’t been time for—and an excited murmur among the attendees filing out. As the last questioner settled into a detailed discussion of Netherese spellwork with Gale, Alys permitted herself a wide, relieved, delighted grin. They had done it. And it had gone better than she’d ever dared to hope.

“Darling?”

With a slight jump, Alys turned to her right. She had to stare a moment to be sure she wasn’t seeing things. Cerise Towerfell was standing there in an elegant green blouse and black pencil skirt, her expression warm and proud and just a bit nervous.

She and her mother had never truly made up from their fight at the end of February. They’d gone to coffee together one weekend afternoon in March, but the conversation had been stilted and awkward and had painstakingly danced around their clash. Cerise had said that she would not bring up Towerfell Constructs in a clipped tone, and that had been that.

But Cerise had never come to one of Alys’s presentations before, and Alys could not deny that she was moved by the gesture.

“Mom! What are you doing here?” she asked, hugging her.

“Well, we always interview job candidates at the AMMS. I couldn’t resist tagging along to drop in on your talk.” Cerise ran a nervous finger against her necklace. “Maybe I should have asked first, but…”

“I’m glad you came,” Alys assured her. “I hope it wasn’t too dull.”

Cerise gave her a reproving look. “Alys Towerfell. That was a fantastic presentation and you know it. Don’t fish for compliments,” she teased. “You really are doing phenomenal work, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

Alys braced herself for the next part of that sentence, for a comment about how much more phenomenal her work could be at Towerfell Constructs. But it didn’t come.

“Thanks, Mom,” Alys mumbled after a beat, feeling herself blush.

“Alys?”

Alys looked up, seeking the source of the new voice. “Halsin!” 

Her old mentor was wearing a slightly worn plaid shirt over dark jeans; a pair of wire-rim glasses sat atop his nose. By Halsin’s standards this was formal attire and it made Alys smile. She opened her arms to hug him.

“Congratulations,” he told her warmly when the hug ended. “I see you were not being overly optimistic about your coming breakthroughs. But please, I apologize—I’ve clearly interrupted.”

“Not at all,” Alys assured him. “Halsin, this is my mother Cerise. Mom, this is Halsin Silverbough, a former colleague from Sword Coast State.”

Cerise looked a bit stunned as she shook Halsin’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Silverbough,” she said as a faint blush bloomed underneath her copper scales.

“Just Halsin is fine,” he replied with a warm grin. “And the pleasure is mine.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. That was another Netherese expert, and…” Gale trailed off as he took in the two people standing in front of her. “Oh. Hello.”

“Gale, this is Halsin Silverbough, my old faculty mentor,” Alys explained. “And… my mother. Cerise Towerfell. Everyone, this is Gale Dekarios.”

“The boyfriend!” Halsin offered his hand with a genuinely enthusiastic smile. “I’m very glad to meet you, Gale.”

“So am I,” Cerise said with a little smile. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“I. Ah.” Gale blushed faintly as he shook Cerise’s hand. “Likewise. Delighted to finally make it official. Meeting you, I mean.” He was visibly nervous and it made Alys’s heart melt. She knew Gale wasn’t anxious because he was meeting the CEO of Towerfell Constructs; this was important to him because he was meeting her mom.

“Would you three like to join me for a midmorning coffee break? My treat, of course,” Cerise said briskly, checking her watch. “There’s a panel I want to attend at eleven-thirty but I’d love to hear more about this project.”

Gale glanced at Alys; she nodded, trying to communicate that she’d like to say yes. Gale nodded back. “We have nothing planned,” he said. “Halsin?”

Halsin smiled. “That sounds delightful. Lead the way.”

Coffee was interrupted no less than four times by people who wanted to congratulate Alys and Gale on their paper. Word was spreading around the conference, apparently; when Gale checked his phone, he saw a handful of emails from other wizards asking for copies of their draft or suggesting they try to meet up before the AMMS ended. He and Alys split up after coffee to attend different panels, and the rest of his day passed in a blur of dashed-off messages and other papers and occasional texts with Alys to share yet another bit of feedback on their talk.

When he walked into the Saturday evening reception, Gale was both glowing with pride and exhausted from all the attention. He decided not to pay twelve dollars for a glass of subpar wine at the cash bar; instead, he helped himself to some of the free appetizers being passed around the room. He and Alys had plans for a nice dinner later, but he was hungry now, and he always found these sorts of social events easier with some food in his stomach. As well as today had gone, he doubted it had made him any better at small talk.

He was swallowing a mini quiche and double-checking the time of their dinner reservation when a familiar voice interrupted him. “Gale, m’boy!”

Gale tucked his phone away with a smile. “Hello, Elminster. Enjoying yourself, I see?”

Elminster chuckled. His face was wine-flushed—apparently, the cost of the cash bar hadn’t bothered him—and he carried a small paper plate piled high with cubes of cheese. “I am indeed, I am indeed! And congratulations are in order. Your paper is quite the talk of the conference!”

“Half of the credit goes to my coauthor, of course. But yes, it’s been well-received so far,” Gale said, trying to reach for something like humility. 

“An understatement, I suspect.” Elminster popped a cube of cheese into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Gale expected him to wander off—he usually did when he was eating—but when he stayed in place, Gale began to suspect that something was up.

His suspicions were confirmed when Elminster swallowed and cleared his throat. “I’ll admit I’m over here on a bit of an errand, Gale. Mystra asked me to see if I could spot you in the crowd. She’d like to have a word.”

Gale drew in a deep breath through his nose. Then another one. “Did she say why?” he asked, without much hope.

Elminster shook his head. “Not her way, as you well know.”

Gale chuckled softly; Elminster had once been Mystra’s collaborator and had known her even longer than Gale had. If anyone understood how inscrutable Mystra could be, it was the older wizard. 

He glanced down at his watch. He thought about claiming that his dinner reservation with Alys was too close, but the truth was he had plenty of time—and he could not avoid this forever. If he didn’t talk to Mystra tonight, she would corner him at some other conference, or send him an email, or perhaps suddenly remember the phone number she hadn’t used in nearly two years.

I suppose I ought to get this over with.

“Where is she?” he asked Elminster.

His old mentor pointed across the room. A small gaggle of admirers was crowded around one of the small cocktail hour tables. Gale couldn’t actually see Mystra through them, but he knew immediately that she was there, surrounded by people hoping for a moment of her time. He wondered if she actually wanted to speak with him, or if she merely wanted to remind him of just how influential she was, make him stand awkwardly in the crowd while she spoke to everyone but him.

Well. I can always leave if she seems too busy.

But to his surprise, when Mystra saw him approaching the table, she immediately turned to the person next to her and raised her voice so that everyone around her could hear. “I am sorry for the interruption, but I’ll need to resume this later. I have something of an appointment with Dr. Dekarios here.” 

As disappointed admirers began walking away from the table, Mystra looked into Gale’s eyes and smiled her familiar, serene smile. He inclined his head in a nod, swallowing slightly. “Mystra. Elminster said you wanted a word?”

“I do.” Mystra took a sip of her wine. “You’re looking well, Gale.”

“As are you,” he said—sincerely, but with what he hoped was polite distance. There was a time when he would have taken that opening to say something poetic about Mystra’s beauty and brilliance, of course, but now he merely wanted to get out of what he hoped was a short and purely professional chat with a minimum amount of irritation.

Mystra arched a skeptical eyebrow, as if to say she noticed the lack of flattery and was not sure how to interpret it. “That was an impressive presentation today.”

Gale felt his own eyebrows rise halfway up his forehead. Mystra certainly hadn’t seemed impressed this morning; what was she playing at?

“Thank you,” he said, blinking. “Though I’m a bit surprised to hear you say it.”

“To be clear, your effort would have been far better spent on continuing your previous work– our previous work,” she said crisply. “But the Crown of Karsus is at least a notable find. One that is more than worthy of display in the Museum.”

Ah. Of course. She wants the Crown. Gale cleared his throat. “It does deserve a home where it can be widely seen,” he agreed. “I would be delighted to discuss transferring it to the Museum. How are things there, by the way?”

He thought he was just making polite small talk. But Mystra’s eyes lit with a spark that Gale didn’t entirely trust. “They’re going well enough. But my assistant curator has been… well. I would characterize her as inadequate.”

“Dr. Limeleech?” Gale asked, surprised. “Goodness. I’ve always thought rather highly of her papers. Though I suppose you can’t know what someone is like to work with based on a few journal articles.”

“Her work is acceptable,” Mystra allowed coolly. “But our collaborations have been… difficult. I find her argumentative and stubborn.” She met Gale’s eyes, her gaze intense. “I fear it is not the smooth meeting of the minds I experienced when working with you.”

“What are you getting at, Mystra?” Gale asked, impatience beginning to bubble inside him.

Mystra watched him for a beat, dragging out the silence. Then, deliberately, she set down her glass and replied, “I am saying that the job is yours if you want it. Assistant Head Curator.”

Gale gaped at her in shock, completely at a loss for words.

“I am not, to be clear, suggesting that we resume our personal relationship,” Mystra continued crisply. “I have moved on, and I hope you have too. But I believe we could both put those old feelings aside to resume what was once an extremely productive professional collaboration. And I am certain you’ll agree that the Museum offers you resources that a university like Baldur’s Gate simply cannot provide.”

Gale drew a deep breath as his mind raced. A year ago, of course, he would have said yes without hesitation—would have stumbled over his words thanking Mystra for the honor. And for a moment, just a moment, he was tempted.

But then he found himself thinking back to Tara’s question about whether he’d be happy in Waterdeep. About whether returning to this city, to the path he’d thought his life would take, would truly make him happier than the future he might build in Baldur’s Gate. And the answer was so obvious that he nearly laughed.

He shook his head. “I have been happy in Baldur’s Gate, Mystra. I appreciate the compliment you believe you’re paying me, but I…”

“Think of your future, Gale,” Mystra interrupted, frowning impatiently. “I am granting you the opportunity to correct the mistake you made. To resume the collaboration and career you threw away.”

Threw away. Gale had spent so many months with those words spinning through his head on a loop. But somehow, they no longer held the ring of pure truth.

Gale met Mystra’s eyes as his heart beat faster in his chest. “I see it a bit differently,” he replied, drawing himself up just a bit taller. “The choice to end our professional and personal relationship was yours far more than mine. It was your right to do so, of course, but I was not the one who discarded our collaboration. I should not have lied to you, and I regret doing so wholeheartedly. But you expected full control over every project I worked on—and you had no right to ask that of me.” 

Mystra’s slight frown turned into something close to a scowl. “Well. If you feel that way about our working relationship, perhaps it would be for the best if I try to make things work with Dr. Limeleech after all.” There was acid behind the words, but also a hint of triumph; Mystra fully expected the threat of the revoked offer to bring Gale to heel.

“It was generous of you to suggest that I could join you at the Museum. But I fear I must agree that I should not accept,” he replied mildly. “I am content at BGU. More than content. And I think it would be in my best interests to forge my own path rather than resume our old partnership.”

Mystra looked very much as if she’d bitten into a lemon.

“It’s good to see you, Mystra. I’ll be in touch about the Crown,” Gale continued, taking a step back from the table. “But if you’ll excuse me, Alys and I have dinner plans.” 

“Ah, I see. Alys. ” Sharp amusement filled Mystra’s voice. “I should have believed the rumors, I suppose. You always did like to mix your work with your personal life.”

“Goodness,” Gale said cheerfully, more amused than offended by the clear judgment in her tone. “I do believe that borders on hypocritical, Mystra. Oh, and on a different subject—you might want to check the dating work in your most recent paper. The century seems off to me.”

Mystra narrowed her eyes at Gale and did not reply.

Gale walked away from that table feeling half out of his own body. His pulse was pounding, his adrenaline rushing, his stomach churning. Gods. Gods. He’d just turned down an offer that he would have grabbed with both hands a year ago. He’d broken with Mystra irrevocably and permanently, told her to her face that he thought their working relationship had not been fair to him. He’d even accused her of making a mistake in her work.

And most astonishing of all, he did not regret a bit of it.

“Gale!”

Gale turned his head. Alys was walking towards him, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’m so sorry, I just got here. I was having the most fascinating conversation with one of Halsin’s colleagues. Her name is Jaheira and she’s interested in consulting with us on some old druidic idols that need repair.”

“How splendid,” Gale said sincerely. Then, nervously, he cleared his throat. He hated to pull the conversation back to himself so quickly—but he could not bear for Alys to ever think he would keep what had just happened a secret. “I just had a rather interesting conversation myself. With Mystra. She offered me the position of Assistant Head Curator. On a purely professional basis, I should say; she made it clear that she had no interest in resuming our personal relationship.”

“Oh.” Alys’s eyes went wide; he saw her steel herself with a deep breath. “I’ll admit that isn’t a possibility I’d considered. Could—could we talk about it over dinner?”

“There’s no need.” Gale reached for her hands and took them in his. “I said no. It may seem rash, I realize. But I have no wish to work with Mystra again.” He squeezed her hands. “Especially not when I have such a splendid collaborator in Baldur’s Gate.”

The tension melted from Alys’s face. She squeezed his hands back with a warm smile. “Oh, thank gods,” she sighed. “I would try long-distance for you, Gale Dekarios. But I strongly prefer being together.”

“So do I.” Gale tucked his elbow through hers. “Now then. I believe I promised you a romantic oceanside dinner. And perhaps a long walk along the waterfront afterwards?”

“I can't wait.” Alys squeezed his arm. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Astarion looked up with a smile as Alys stepped through the door to the Moonlight Wine Bar. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer!”

Gale, entering behind Alys, cleared his throat. Astarion’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Oh, and hello to you too, Gale.”

“I’ve been a customer here longer than she has. I would think that might earn me some consideration,” Gale said wryly as he and Alys approached the bar. 

“Yes, yes, we appreciate your patronage, et cetera. But Alys brought her mother here last week.” Astarion beamed at the memory. “Delightful woman. Ordered two of our most expensive bottles plus food, and tipped extravagantly.”

Astarion was not exaggerating. The bill Cerise had managed to rack up at Moonlight had nearly left Alys breathless with shock—but it had been one of the nicest nights out with her mother in years. Cerise had not mentioned Towerfell Constructs a single time, except in the context of her own work. She had asked Alys about fall classes and next projects and had listened to the answers without even hinting that she thought Alys should be doing something else.

She had also blushed when she received a text message that Alys strongly suspected was from Halsin. But Alys would let Cerise share that news in her own time.

“Hmmm. Wouldn’t that make my mother your favorite customer?” she asked Astarion.

“I suppose it would, wouldn’t it?” Astarion said thoughtfully. “Well, in that case, what can I get my second-favorite customer?”

“I’ll let Gale make the selection,” Alys said with a little smile.

Gale tapped a finger on the menu. “Ah! Just the thing. The Dalelands sparkling wine, please. A bottle.”

“Celebrating something?” Wyll asked, casting a subtle but clear look at Alys’s left hand.

Alys held up her bare hand. “Yes, but not that,” she said cheerfully. “Our paper on the Crown of Karsus was accepted at Magic.”

Gods, saying those words sent a thrill through her. This was the kind of achievement she’d dreamt of since graduate school. Knowing she would share it with Gale only made it all the sweeter.

Astarion and Wyll exchanged a puzzled look; belatedly, Alys realized that they probably weren’t sure why she was so excited. “Getting published in Magic means nothing to anyone outside academia, of course, but in our little world it’s significant,” she explained, laughing a bit sheepishly.

“Alys is being modest,” Gale said, leaning onto his elbow on the bar, his voice earnest. “Magic publishes the most notable research from casters in every field, from Religious Magics to Druidic Studies and even Warlock Pacts.”

“Even Warlock Pacts? Imagine that!” Wyll said wryly.

“No offense intended, of course,” Gale said hastily. “My point is that it’s a major achievement. All of my colleagues have either emailed or stopped by to congratulate me.” He paused. “Well. Nearly all of them.”

“Congratulations from me as well, then.” Wyll smiled at them. “Why don’t you take that table by the window, and we’ll bring your wine to you in a moment.”

“I suspect I can guess who hasn’t stopped by,” Alys murmured as they made their way to their table. “Would it be too smug if we also toasted a certain personnel decision?”

“You mean the thoroughly deserved and extremely satisfying firing of Lorroakan Athkatla, unrepentant bully and professional fraud?” Gale pretended to consider it. “I don’t think I want him to share our bottle of wine in any capacity. But I think we’re allowed to be extremely happy about that outcome.” 

“Almost as happy as Dean Aylin. I ran into her last week after the University made it official.” Alys smiled at the memory. “She was practically glowing in triumph. She called him half a dozen names; 'villain’ was the kindest.”

“He packed up his office today,” Gale said. “Gods, I cannot wait to walk into the first faculty meeting that he won’t derail with his nonsense. The meetings might actually be pleasant now.”

“Don’t count on it,” Alys said wryly. “Department meetings are always the worst. But I suspect they will indeed be less bad without Lorroakan. How is Rolan, by the way?”

“He grows more impressive by the week,” Gale said, shaking his head in slight astonishment. “Rolan has not only recovered the progress Lorroakan cost him—he has now surpassed most of the other students in his year.” He chuckled. “Much as I would like to claim it’s the result of my mentorship, I must admit the credit belongs to Rolan alone. He is a young man of remarkable talent.”

They paused the conversation when Wyll brought out an ice bucket on a tall silver stand with their wine nestled into the ice; moments later, Astarion presented them with two glass wine flutes.

The elf bowed to them playfully. “Enjoy. And my heartiest and most sincere felicitations on your—magazine article? Newspaper article? How much do they pay you for that sort of thing, out of curiosity?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Gale admitted, reaching for the bottle and beginning to pour. “In academia, you publish to advance knowledge and share it with your colleagues, not for financial gain.”

Astarion gave him a disgusted look. “I do not understand your profession at all.”

Gale poured the wine carefully, trying not to let the bubbles overflow. The liquid glittered almost merrily in the glasses, effervescent and inviting, and he could not hide a little smile at the sight. When he had finished his task, he handed a flute to Alys. “To our paper,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.

“To our paper,” Alys echoed. “And to the Crown of Karsus, currently awaiting its debut in Waterdeep this summer.”

Gale let out a wistful little sigh. It had been hard to let the artifact go; there had been something undeniably satisfying about being one of only two people in the world who had access to the legendary Crown of Karsus. But the find deserved to be shared with the world, and Dr. Limeleech’s exhibition about the Crown seemed to be coming together in impressive fashion. 

Mystra had not had much to say about any of it, even after the agreement was formalized. But Gale rather thought that was for the best.

“Speaking of the summer, the leasing office returned my email today,” Alys continued after swallowing a sip of wine. “We can add you to the lease at any time.”

“And you’re quite sure you want me to move in?” Gale asked a bit anxiously. “It’s certainly what I want, to be clear. But I would not want to pressure you, or impose in any way. And Tara can be a bit of a handful as a roommate.”

“Gale.” Alys took his hand. “Waking up with you every morning, seeing you every night? Of course it’s what I want. We practically live together anyway. And Tara and I have had some nice chats about how to make sure she gets her fair share of your time.” Her eyes twinkled. “She also said something about how my scarves are safe? I didn’t ask. I’ll admit I was afraid of the answer.”

“It’s a long story. But that’s a good sign,” Gale assured her.

Half unconsciously, he ran his thumb over Alys’s empty ring finger. He had not missed Wyll’s glance at her hand, and he wondered if his intentions were already that obvious. It was still too early to ask, he thought; he did not want Alys to think he was being impulsive or hasty. But he knew in his bones what he wanted, he’d talked to Alys about what she imagined for their future, and when he’d confirmed that they were on the same page, he’d called Morena and asked her to find something in the family’s safety deposit box before she visited this summer.

A year, he thought. A year would be a reasonable amount of time. He could ask Alys on their anniversary, on a quiet night in their apartment, with an illusion of the northern lights in the windows and his grandmother’s ring in his pocket.

If he could wait that long. And if Alys didn't ask him first.

“I know that look,” Alys said, arching an eyebrow. “What are you planning, Gale Dekarios?”

“Oh, any number of things,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Where to put Tara’s climbing tower in your living room, for one. Where to put my pots and pans for another.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “And how much I am looking forward to seeing my name next to yours on a mailbox. A prosaic thought, admittedly, but I find it quite pleasing.”

“I do too.” Alys leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I can’t wait to share a mailbox with you.”

Holding hands, they clinked glasses once more, and Gale could feel their entire future stretch before them, warm and bright with possibility.

Chapter Text

The November day had dawned crisp and sunny, a reprieve from the gray skies and cold winds that had been the norm for the past weeks. As Alys and Gale walked across campus, his hand warm in hers, she soaked in a feeling of quiet contentment and peace. That feeling would probably vanish when she got to her office and checked her email–-her students had a problem set due later today—but she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

At least, that was the plan before Gale started explaining his schedule for the spring.

“Gale Dekarios.” Alys felt her brow furrow as she looked over at her boyfriend. “You can’t possibly teach three sections of Wizardry 101 plus a graduate seminar plus Advanced Illusions.”

“Not to fear!” Gale smiled and raised a finger. “I can if I have the assistance of a very able graduate student. Namely, Rolan Ramazith.”

“You want Rolan to help you teach Wizardry 101?” Alys tried to think of a gentle way to explain why this was not a good idea. Gale’s tiefling graduate student was brilliant, but struggled with a lack of patience for those who did not share his natural command of the Weave or his frankly terrifying work ethic. Making Rolan responsible for eighteen-year-olds who had never cast a spell before would almost certainly result in scathing student evaluations.

“Oh. Certainly not. He’ll help with Advanced Illusions,” Gale assured her. “And as for the three sections of Wizardry 101—well, it will be somewhat more grading than usual. I can’t deny that I’ll have to burn the candle at both ends some weeks. But the department is short on faculty until we fill Lorroakan’s old position, and the extra money will be nice to have around for the wedding.”

Alys opened her mouth to remind Gale that the two of them had more than enough money, even without factoring in Alys’s Towerfell trust fund. Only then did the significance of that last word hit her.

She pulled him to a stop. “Gale? What wedding?”

Gale’s face abruptly went pale. His eyes widened as if he’d been caught with his hand in an unauthorized cookie jar. He cleared his throat as a blush warmed his cheeks. “I. Ah. I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“You did, yes,” Alys said dryly, trying to keep a calm face even as her heart started to race in her chest. 

“That will teach me to think out loud,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “I. Well. No help for it but the truth.” 

He drew a deep breath. “I’d been thinking of—of our wedding. The Dekarios clan is rather large, which means a pricier venue, and good catering does not come cheap.” The words began coming faster, which Alys knew was a sign that Gale was anxious. “Although of course any guest list or food decisions would need to be worked out with both of us—perhaps you don’t want such a fuss. It is rather a lot of work, arranging a large wedding. Maybe it would be more practical to simply elope. And there is the very small matter of actually asking you to marry me, which I have not done yet and was not planning to do until our anniversary.” 

He stopped abruptly, then closed his eyes and let out an agonized sigh. “I’m sorry, Alys. I’ve gotten all this horribly backwards.”

Alys watched him for a moment. Then, deliberately, she moved in front of him, set her bag down, and bent her right knee.

This was not how or when Alys had intended to do this. She’d had an elaborate plan involving a romantic candlelight dinner and Gale’s favorite dessert and a ring that Tara had personally approved. But somehow, right here on the sidewalk with no ring and no speech prepared, something told her that this was the perfect moment to throw all her careful plans to the wind.

Gale stared down at her. “Alys? What are you—”

“I’m still waiting for the jeweler to finish the ring I was going to give you,” Alys said, grinning up at him, still holding his hand in hers. “But hells, it’s just a bit of gold. Gale Dekarios, will you marry me?”

For as long as she lived, Alys didn’t think she’d ever forget the smile that lit Gale’s face at that moment. He looked down at her with his heart in his eyes, his features bright with joy, his answer obvious even without words.

“Yes!” he blurted, bouncing slightly on his toes, as if the excitement couldn’t be contained a moment longer. “Yes, obviously! Of course! Oh, Alys, I can’t—I scarcely have words right now.” He shrugged his bookbag off his shoulder and set it on the ground next to hers as he tugged her hand, pulling her back to her feet and into his arms.

“Did I mention that my answer is yes?” he joked as her arms wound around his neck. “I cannot wait to marry you, Alys Towerfell.”

“I can’t wait either,” Alys admitted with a little laugh, melting against him as he held her close.

Gale bent his head to kiss her. Alys closed her eyes and kissed him back, reveling in the way his lips curved in a smile as they met hers.