Chapter 3

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Disclaimer: This book has not yet been fully edited. I hope that any typos, awkward phrasing, or holes in research that might remain don't dampen your enjoyment of the story.

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Dean hoisted the ends of his lips into a smile when he caught Eloise casting a glance back at him. She forwned, so he tried to raise the smile into a grin, but the effort nearly made his head fallinto his hands again. The campaigning with Eloise had gone well, but all the sympahty and all the times he had repeated his story to curious guildmates had only ripped his wounds wider. The memory of Orin stuck with bolts like the deer he'd see with an arrow or two sunk halfway in wheeled around on carts in Selene curdled anything he'd eaten in his stomach. And the thought that everyone was so concerned about "what really happened" that they'd ask him when he knew at least one person up there at the council table had seen it all and not been knocked out was completely disassociated from the event except for the label of "hero" made Dean wish it had been the mountain bandits. At least then he would have had the peace and quiet of death.

He picked up a roll to distract himself. The scent of baking bread had filled the mess hall before the evening meal. And now that voting had finished the scent still lingered.

Eloise set her elbow on the table to better turn herself away from the goings on at the council table. "Dean, are you all right?"

Her emerald eyes had never left his mind. From that night in the courtyard, throughout his recovery, they had been there when he closed his eyes. A reassuring smile accentuating their moonlight glow. Leaning back toward him she brought those eyes to bear on him in the fading light of the council's election day. "I'm fine." He shifted his weight on the bench. "Just feels like all the work of the campaign has finally caught up with me."

She smiled so that her cheek dimpled and put her hand onn his arm. It wasn't the first time that she'd been so familiar with him over the last few weeks, but Dean still gasped as her warm soft hand made contact.

"Well, rest up quickly with that roll of yours. You'll need your strength for the celebration. Trust me." She winked as she turned back to the rest of the table. Each member of the current council was giving a speech on what they believed a good candidate was. As they talked, Dean finished the roll he'd only been toying with up to that point. The spot where Eloise's hand had been still felt warmed. He smiled as he watched the other people in the mess listening to the councilors' speeches. The current council members seemed like the sun to the candidates sunflowers. Each time a counsel member mentioned a quality one possessed they would perk up, until, inevitably that same councilor would speak even more glowingly of another quality the perked candidate would slump over. Dean thought it not at all odd that Eloise seemed to resist this pulse of emotion. Instead she just sat and listened, chattering amicably with Margaret, a fellow Searcher hoping to get on the counsel and continue Frances' work alongside Eloise. Dean blushed when the two women giggled, although there were years between himself and Eloise and at least a decade between him and Margaret. He tried to refocus on the speeches – Martin was currently explaining the importance of knowledge – but like a horse brought to water, Dean's mind refused to drink up the distraction.

That morning, before he had met with Eloise and Margaret for one more day of meeting guild members, and, as she put it, making a good impression, Martin had stopped Dean in the hall. His month tending the boy had brought them closer than they'd been before. Martin was far too wrapped up in his research to be a comprehensive teacher, but had been the perfect companion for one recovering for so long. Dean had never imagined the library had held such tomes on things like Frances' theories to the nature of the contained magic to the explanation of magic's mechanics. City magic's mechanics, of course. He already knew from school that country magic worked by relationships, though Martin was far too skeptical of that explanation when Dean gave it.

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