Page 128 of Sonnets and Serpents
“What will happen to Kerem?” Silas asked. Even after everything, he dreaded the answer.
“The execution is already done,” Afshin said gently. “Our guards turned him over to the palace, and, as you can imagine, the Nephew King did not look kindly on a would-be usurper.”
Silas’s stomach lurched, almost rejecting everything he’d eaten thus far. He set his tray aside, his shaking hands rattling the dishes.
“I’m sorry, Silas.”
He couldn’t respond. He was busy trying to remember the last words he and Kerem had said to each other, but he couldn’t. Everything in the caverns had happened so quickly.
What he remembered with clarity was Kerem’s voice saying,Bikmayak kalamak.
My sword breaks here.
Silas pressed his palm to the scar on his throat, feeling his pulse through it, slow and disbelieving.
In the heavy silence, Afshin sighed. He lifted a journal he’d been holding. “I brought this for you, though I’m not certain it will improve anything. Perhaps it might even make matters worse. It was Kerem’s.”
Silas lowered his hand, eyeing the worn brown leather. “I would have expected you to keep all his research.”
“Anything pertaining to what we’re calling the ‘Bone-Box Incident,’ yes, but this is the venom research you conducted together. He kept meticulous notes, and many of them include his thoughts on your specific contributions. He was quite proud of your work.”
Though it went against his better instincts, Silas took the journal. When he opened it, the familiar handwriting nearly undid him, and his own voice haunted him, a warning he’d given to Eliza:People aren’t good or bad,apta. They aren’t simple. They’re just people.
He closed the journal and set it as far from himself as possible. One more relic to taunt him with what could have been.
The dean watched him closely. “There’s one more thing before I go.”
“It can’t be worse,” Silas said quietly.
“No, I hope not. Thanks to the Bone-Box Incident, I’ve had three deaths on my faculty. Another professor, displeased with my handling of the situation, handed in her resignation yesterday. Our warlockry department is suffering. In light of the circumstances, and in consideration of your efforts to uncover and avert this disaster, I would be honored to have you join that department.”
Silas blinked, trying to absorbthat. The room felt too small, like the ceiling was lowering and the bed was growing. Perhaps he was shrinking.
After opening his mouth twice, he finally managed to speak. “I’d be replacing Kerem.”
“Kerem Aytac is irreplaceable, I daresay. As are we all.” Afshin’s voice softened. “There are many people indebted to him for his creation of antivenom, for his clarity of teaching, for his relentless encouragement to discover the unknown. There are also many people dead at his hands. If you could somehow separate and build upon the good of his legacy, I’m sure there would be benefit.
“Regardless, I’m certain you will have your hands quite full building yourownlegacy, and I look forward to the results. Of course, if you need time to consider it ...”
He left it hanging.
A real professorship. Mere weeks ago, Silas had beggedfor this opportunity. It was everything he’d wanted.
Yet the reality of the moment clashed with that vision of weeks ago, and, like a fool, he found himself saying, “This isn’t ... what I pictured.”
“Nor I. Believe me, I wish the offer were under brighter circumstances.” Afshin leaned forward, his expression candid. “But even in duress, I wouldnotoffer if I didn’t think you worthy, Silas.”
Silas latched onto that like steady ground beneath his feet. The university was where he belonged. This chance was what he’d been fighting for.
“Yes.” He swallowed. “Yes, I’d be honored.”
But although he said the words with conviction, they felt strangely hollow.
Eliza passed the ten-day journey home in a daze. She watched the rolling ocean waves, the tranquil blue reflected in sea and sky, and she tried not to think about anything beyond the present moment.
There were some things she couldn’t avoid, however, trapped in the small space of a single ship.
“Captain says we’ll dock this afternoon,” Henry said, standing beside her at the railing. How he could look so relaxed at sea after experiencing a shipwreck was beyond her. Eliza’s own hands white-knuckled the railing whenever she stood on the deck.
