Chapter 1065: Terms of Instruction
"Fine."
The answer came with considerably less resistance than Elara expected.
Lucavion had spent enough time examining her offer that she had prepared herself for another question, perhaps three, followed by some deliberately unreasonable condition meant to test whether she truly intended to go through with this. Instead, he simply looked ahead, pressed his thumb once against the side of his finger, and allowed the word to settle between them.
"If that is what you want," he added, "I suppose I can endure it."
Elara raised one brow. "Your confidence recovered quickly."
"It was never in danger."
"You spent the last several minutes searching for reasons to refuse."
"I was examining the arrangement."
"And?"
His gaze slid toward her.
"It remains suspicious."
"That sounds manageable."
"Perhaps for you."
A faint smile touched Elara’s mouth.
He had accepted.
That should have been the important part, yet the small satisfaction rising beneath her ribs had less to do with obtaining permission than with the possibilities that came afterward. A proper lesson would let her control the order of information, repeat similar concepts under different language, and observe what Lucavion understood before he had time to decide what his understanding was supposed to look like.
More importantly, she would finally have something other than accidental moments to compare.
Lucavion watched her expression for several steps.
"I should warn you about something."
Elara looked toward him. "That usually means I am about to regret asking."
"I am unlikely to become the student you imagine."
"I have imagined very little that could be called promising."
"That helps."
He withdrew one hand from his pocket and counted lazily across his fingers.
"I dislike repetitive exercises. I interrupt. I question instructions. If an explanation seems pointless, I tend to say so. And authority by itself has never impressed me very much."
Elara listened until he finished.
"Are you trying to frighten me away from teaching you?"
"I am giving you useful information."
"You are describing yourself."
"Exactly."
"That information reached me some time ago."
Lucavion’s mouth twitched.
Elara continued walking beneath the next arch, though amusement had begun softening the edge of her earlier satisfaction.
"What happens," he asked, "when I refuse an exercise?"
"I ask why."
"And if I am bored?"
"I make it harder."
"If I interrupt?"
"If the interruption has value, I answer it."
"And if it does not?"
"I continue until you realize nobody is interested."
"That may take a while."
"I have endured longer examinations."
Lucavion laughed quietly.
"You really believe you can put me inside a lesson and make me behave."
"I believe I can teach you."
"That was carefully worded."
"It needed to be."
He studied her face, clearly searching for the arrogance he could attack more easily.
Elara gave him none.
She had no expectation that Lucavion would transform into the obedient student noble tutors preferred. In truth, she suspected forcing him into that shape would make the lesson worse. His questions, complaints, and tendency to attack assumptions were irritating, but they also exposed how he reasoned. If she wanted to understand the gaps inside his knowledge, silencing the very habits that revealed them would defeat half the purpose.
She only needed him to stay long enough for the pattern to appear.
Lucavion’s attention dropped briefly toward her hand.
Elara followed his gaze.
The examination notice still rested between her fingers.
She had carried the folded parchment since leaving the hall and nearly forgotten it during their conversation.
Lucavion’s next step changed.
His hips turned before his shoulders, his weight slipping across the edge of Elara’s attention with the same infuriating ease she had seen during combat.
Her fingers closed.
Too late.
The parchment disappeared.
Elara turned.
Lucavion stood several strides away beside one of the carved Academy columns, holding her examination notice loosely between two fingers. His other hand had already returned to his pocket.
He lifted the paper.
"I will also do things like this."
Elara stared at him.
"Steal examination notices?"
"Disrupt the lesson."
His smile widened slightly.
"Change the subject. Refuse the expected response. Test whether your structure survives when I step outside it."
Cold gathered almost reflexively around Elara’s fingertips.
The paper remained held carelessly over his shoulder.
He had entered from the edge of her awareness, waited until her attention settled elsewhere, then taken the object without touching her skin.
A test.
The realization cooled her first impulse.
Lucavion wanted to know whether her confidence existed only while he cooperated.
Perhaps he also wanted the conversation back beneath his control.
Elara looked at the notice.
A thread of Frost slipped across the stone.
It travelled too thinly to whiten the floor, climbed the back of the column behind him, and reached the upper edge of the parchment before Lucavion glanced sideways.
Silver hardened.
Elara curled two fingers.
The examination notice snapped from his hand.
Lucavion watched it cross the space between them.
Elara caught the paper against her palm, folded it along the original crease, and slipped it safely inside her sleeve.
His gaze lowered toward his empty fingers.
"Tomorrow," Elara said.
Lucavion looked up.
"At the second bell after dinner. Western Library. Private Room Four."
His eyebrows rose.
"One bell."
"That was quick."
"You gave me useful information."
"Which part?"
Elara resumed walking past him.
"You rely on surprise whenever you want to reclaim the rhythm of a conversation."
A grin appeared behind her.
"And you respond by pretending you were never surprised."
Elara looked over her shoulder.
"I was surprised."
That stopped him for half a beat.
She enjoyed the reaction.
"Then I recovered," she continued, "identified what you were doing, and adapted."
Lucavion joined her again.
"You froze my examination notice."
"I froze the air around its edge."
"A vital distinction."
"One you might appreciate after receiving proper instruction."
His laughter followed them into the next passage.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Elara found herself replaying the exchange despite already understanding it. Lucavion had declared his intentions plainly enough: he would test her. Her certainty, her authority, perhaps even her patience.
Good.
The more naturally he behaved, the more useful the lessons would become.
’Troublesome.’
Her mouth curved faintly.
’But manageable.’
"You recovered faster than I expected," Lucavion said.
"You expected me to freeze?"
"I expected a longer pause."
"That sounds like disappointment."
"Curiosity."
"Save it for tomorrow."
"Busy."
Elara turned toward him. "Doing what?"
"Avoiding tomorrow."
"Then the evening after."
"I may need to avoid that as well."
"Lucavion."
He sighed with theatrical exhaustion.
"Fine. Tomorrow."
"One bell."
"Half."
"One."
His eyes narrowed. "You intend to fill an entire bell with definitions?"
"I intend to determine what you actually understand before I decide how to teach you."
That caught his attention.
Elara continued before he could interrupt.
"We begin with circulation, auxiliary sequences, spell anchors, and structural pressure."
"All of that?"
"They are basic."
"That statement feels hostile."
"You will explain each one in your own words first."
Lucavion’s expression became more thoughtful.
"Why?"
"Because I do not care what definition you can repeat after hearing it once."
His brows rose.
Elara gestured lightly toward him.
"I want to know how you understand the principle before I give you the accepted terminology. If you recognize the function but lack the name, that tells me something. If you recognize neither, that tells me something else."
"And if I answer correctly?"
"I will be pleasantly surprised."
"That sounds unlikely."
"It should motivate you."
Lucavion looked ahead again, though the humor around his eyes had softened into attention.
The method was simple enough to describe.
Elara would keep the rest to herself.
A practical explanation could follow a formal term. A diagram could come afterward. Once she knew how he reacted to those, she could begin varying the language, including older Lorian forms among the modern Arcanian terminology without drawing attention to why she had chosen them.
One condition at a time.
The first lesson would establish a baseline.
Everything after that could change.
Lucavion rubbed his thumb lightly against the side of his finger.
Elara saw the movement.
This time, she said nothing.
"Do I need to prepare?" he asked.
The question almost amused her.
"No."
His head turned toward her.
"No?"
"You sound disappointed."
"I sound suspicious."
"Good."
Elara folded her arms as they walked.
"I want to know what you understand now. If you spend the entire night reading explanations beforehand, I will only discover what you managed to memorize before arriving."
"So you want me ignorant."
"I want you honest."
"That sounds considerably less flattering."
"You may survive."
"Barely."
"And you do not need to bring anything."
Lucavion glanced at her.
"Nothing?"
"I will provide the material."
"That is unexpectedly generous."
"It is efficient."
She already knew what she needed.
A foundational text with terminology clean enough for comparison. Several simple diagrams. Blank paper for explanations or corrections. Perhaps one or two older Lorian examples if the first portion of the lesson gave her reason to introduce them.
No preparation from Lucavion.
No expectation.
Just whatever remained inside him when the question arrived.
The thought produced a small, uncomfortable excitement that Elara chose to classify as academic interest.
Nothing more needed to be said about it.
They reached the final junction before the residential blocks.
The eastern staircase curved upward toward Lucavion’s assigned wing, while Elara’s path continued through the opposite arch toward Block 7-A. Outside the high windows, evening had settled properly over the Academy, turning the courtyards into long stretches of gold and shadow.
Lucavion stopped near the first stair.
"Twice a week?"
Elara considered it.
"For now."
"You choose the material."
"Yes."
"And I reserve the right to complain."
"You would exercise that right regardless of permission."
"That sounds like agreement."
"It is recognition."
His crooked smile returned.
"You understand that seeing me this often may become exhausting."
"I have endured your company for this entire corridor."
"A heroic achievement."
"Tomorrow will determine whether it can be repeated."
Lucavion placed one foot on the first stair, then glanced back.
"You are very confident for someone whose examination notice disappeared from her hand."
"It remained away from me for three breaths."
"Closer to four."
"You counted because you needed the victory."
He laughed.
"Tomorrow, then."
"Second bell."
"Private Room Four."
"One bell."
His expression suggested that the final condition remained offensive.
Elara held his gaze until he inclined his head in surrender.
"One bell."
He climbed another step.
Then paused.
"Now that I think about it, this arrangement may actually be entertaining."
"That is exactly what worries me."
"You will be seeing my face rather often."
"Two evenings each week hardly qualifies as often."
Lucavion looked down at her from the staircase.
A small glint entered his eyes.
"Lessons are only the beginning."
Elara’s brows drew together.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
His smile widened.
"That sounds like curiosity."
Before she could answer, he lifted one hand and continued upward.
"Tomorrow, Elowyn."
"Do not be late."
"I would never insult my teacher."
Elara stared after him.
"That sentence already sounds dishonest."
His laughter reached her from farther up the stairwell.
A few moments later, Lucavion disappeared around the curve.
Elara remained at the junction.
The Academy’s wards hummed softly beneath the surrounding stone, and somewhere beyond the residential courts the evening bell began carrying across the towers.
She had what she needed.
A room.
A schedule.
A willing student.
And, more importantly, permission to place the same locked door beneath pressure again and again without ever asking Lucavion to open it.
’Tomorrow.’
Elara turned toward Block 7-A.
By the time she reached her room, she would need to decide which question came first.