Laewyn was fully dressed when Saphienne and Iolas entered Celaena’s study, sitting by the window in a clean set of clothes identical to those she had worn the day before; she flushed as she exchanged polite greetings with them. Celaena hovered near the entrance as she blushed with her, and she promptly excused herself from the room, murmuring that she would fetch them all tea.

  Saphienne dropped her satchel to follow her. “I’ll help you with the cups.”

  But Celaena waved back across her shoulder. “No need. I won’t be long.”

  Awkwardly, Saphienne stopped at the door. Iolas shrugged off his damp outer robes and stepped past her to hang them on the coat rack nearby, and she gratefully followed his lead, joining him at the study’s table after she retrieved her notes and writing kit.

  No one spoke. Iolas was carefully setting out his pen and ink; Saphienne pretended to read; and Laewyn glanced between them with growing discomfort.

  Finally, she broke the tension in a rush. “Um, I know what it looks like, but we weren’t–”

  “Don’t care,” Saphienne said.

  Iolas was more diplomatic. “Saphienne means that it’s not really our business… which it isn’t.”

  Their response reassured Laewyn, though only a little. “Well… we weren’t. Really. I only stayed over because, um, Celaena asked me to.” She worried at the stitching of her trousers with her nails. “She just didn’t want to spend the night alone. And, um, I didn’t want to leave her.”

  Saphienne took the opportunity to move them on. “So, no work at the bakery today?”

  Laewyn smiled in quiet thanks, then snorted as she turned away to look out the window. “There probably was… but it’s not like I care. If Master Tanelia wants to tell me off, then fine, whatever — Celaena needed me more.” She shrugged, relaxing against the glass. “Anyway, I don’t think she’ll give me any bother. She was there when Iolas came in, and she said I should take some leftovers when she let me leave, so…”

  Her disinterest surprised them, and Iolas couldn’t hide his mild reproach as he asked, “You don’t care for your apprenticeship?”

  “No. Why would I?” She met his gaze with equal surprise. “It’s just something to do while I figure things out…” A little self-consciousness crept back into her voice. “I guess, um, you’re both just as committed to the whole ‘wizardry’ thing as Celaena, right?”

  Saphienne gave her a nod, trying to be friendly. “We are. But I understand what you mean: I did a few apprenticeships, while I was waiting for the chance to study magic.”

  “I heard about that. Filaurel dragged you into looking after the library, didn’t she?”

  “She didn’t drag me into it.” Saphienne could hear the pout in her own voice. “I liked doing it… well, for a while.”

  Laewyn sat forward, animated by their common ground. “Right? Sorting the books was fun for the first week, and the reading was interesting in the beginning, but then all that calligraphy — and the tests on the books?” She rolled her eyes. “She’s really demanding. And a bit cold, honestly.”

  Saphienne was torn between indignation on Filaurel’s behalf, and fascination with the idea of Laewyn tending to the library. “…I’ve never found her cold. You apprenticed under her?”

  “For a month or so, when I was twelve.” She shrugged. “Maybe she just didn’t like me? She’s always seemed a bit aloof, though. But I thought you were aloof, too — so what do I know?”

  Saphienne stared, resentment stirring. “Why did you–”

  Iolas laughed loudly and leant back in his chair, arms behind his head. “You’re not like I expected, Laewyn. Not even slightly.”

  She canted her head. “That a good thing?”

  His smile was warm and mischievous. “I think so: good for Celaena, definitely. I thought you’d be as uptight as her.”

  “She’s not uptight!” Laewyn was protective of Celaena, and slipped to her feet to put her hands on her hips. “She just has lots think about. Everything she does, she has to remember how it reflects on her father. That’s heavy.”

  Yet Iolas wasn’t persuaded. “She is too uptight. I don’t know what her relationship with her father is like, but she’s her own person — you can’t live your life trying to make other people happy.”

  There, Laewyn paused, and nimbly crept to the doorway, where she poked her head out to check the hall was empty. She lowered her voice as she came over to the table, leaning against it. “…You’re not wrong. And I don’t know how they actually get on… but she idolises him, you know? I mean, for good reason.” She gestured around the room. “He’s certainly a great man…”

  “I suppose so.” Iolas stretched, then stared up at the ceiling, contemplative.

  Their diversion had given Saphienne enough time to settle down, but she still studied Laewyn. “Why did you think I was aloof?”

  Shrugging, the older girl leant sideways against the table, bracing with one hand, gesturing with the other. “You always kept to yourself? You never played games when you were younger, and no one I asked knew who you were friends with… not until now. Then, there’re the rumours that you’re really smart, and people said you were studying to be a wizard…”

  “…I see.” Saphienne didn’t feel like explaining herself. “Well, I’m not.”

  “I can tell that, now.” Laewyn grinned. “You know, neither of you are like I thought you’d be, either.”

  “Oh?” Iolas’ eyes twinkled playfully. “What were you expecting?”

  That gave her pause. “…Um, honestly? I thought you’d be more judgemental? Condescending, even?”

  Saphienne smiled tightly. “You thought we’d be pricks.”

  “…A little?” She blushed again, but laughed it off. “Wizards are intimidating, you know? I feel stupid, sometimes, next to Celaena. If I hadn’t met her through the bakery–”

  “You’d have been scared of me?”

  Celaena was standing in the doorway, a finely sculpted cup in each hand, grinning from ear to ear.

  Laewyn blushed furiously, and retreated to the safety of the windowsill. “…I was going to say, we’d never have gotten to know each other. Not like we do.”

  Giggling, Celaena walked over and handed her a black cup — and was followed by a levitating tray of dull metal that floated silently through the air behind her, carrying two more matching cups, a pitcher, and a steaming teapot.

  “Damn.” Iolas stood up and approached the tray. “I’ve only ever seen these at the crafting hall. Actually, I tell a lie — Alinar has one in his tea house, but only for when it gets really busy.”

  Saphienne had never seen an enchantment like it before, and couldn’t help but smile as she watched Celaena gently nudge the tray toward the table and press it down, where it settled into place, no longer airborne. “How does it work?”

  “Magic,” Celaena teased, which made Laewyn laugh. Then she pulled out the chair beside Saphienne and sat, holding her cup with both hands and inhaling the bitter scent of her tea. “I don’t know how the enchantment works – not yet – but I’d guess it’s a translocation? The tray stays wherever you leave it, even in the air, and when it’s airborne it tries to stay level. To make it follow you, just hold one of the edges, and walk a few paces.”

  Unable to resist, Saphienne started lifting the crockery onto the table – causing Iolas to fret about scratching the varnish, a worry that Celaena dismissed – and then hefted the tray in her hands, intrigued to find that it was almost weightless. Glancing up at the ceiling, she tossed it–

  Celaena’s eyes widened. “Saphienne, wait!”

  Too late, they all watched the tray bump off the ceiling and come to a halt, suspended beyond reach.

  Their host sighed mournfully. “…I don’t know the command word, to pause the enchantment.”

  Laewyn snorted, loudly — and promptly coughed tea all across herself, which only made her laugh more loudly when she caught her breath, joined a moment later by Iolas, and then Saphienne, and finally Celaena, too, for all that she was daunted by the magic hanging over them.

  *   *   *

  While Saphienne apologised, Laewyn plucked a random book from Celaena’s library and tossed it overhead, trying to knock the tray down a little. Her aim was good enough — but rather than dislodge the tray, the book landed on top, and got stuck.

  Iolas sighed as he started moving the chairs away from the table. “Here’s a good joke: how many apprentice wizards does it take–”

  Laewyn booed him, winning fresh giggles from Celaena.

  By the time he had cleared the table, moved it underneath the tray, slipped off his shoes, climbed up, and ultimately failed to reach high enough, Saphienne was feeling quite guilty for all the trouble she’d caused. Then Laewyn hopped up beside him and jumped, catching the edge of the tray and pulling it back down with her — only for her landing to crack the wood below her, one of the legs splitting under the impact. The two had just enough time to look at each other in panic before the creaking leg gave way, the whole table tipping over as they reflexively sprang apart and onto the floor.

  As fragments of finely varnished wood scattered across the floor, they could all see there was no salvaging it: the damage was done.

  “Celaena,” Iolas began, ashen-faced, “I’m so sorry–”

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  Her groan cut him off. “…I’m too tired for this…” Suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue, Celaena sipped her tea for strength.

  Laewyn was studying the broken leg – which had been shaped from the same grain as the rest of the table – with growing horror. “Your father is going to be so angry…”

  Hearing her, Celaena squinted. “Why would he be? It’s just a table.”

  Iolas and Saphienne shared a disbelieving look.

  Saphienne spoke up. “But, replacing it–”

  “It doesn’t need replacing… does it?” Celaena crouched down. “No, the pieces are all still here. And even if they weren’t, it’s only wood. It’s simple to fix.”

  Beside her, Iolas was doubtful. “…Even if you glued it back together, the break would show–”

  “Iolas.” Celaena pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you think father would waste his time with glue? And do you think he’d leave me here, without the means to fix whatever I break?”

  Saphienne’s mouth dropped open. “No… you mean–”

  “I have a wholestone,” the wizard’s daughter confirmed, absently gazing around herself as she stood. “…Somewhere in the house. I’m not sure where I left it. Or where I left the divining rod, ironically.”

  Feeling out of her depth, Laewyn hugged herself. “What’s a ‘wholestone?’”

  “I’ll show you later.” Celaena yawned. “Assuming I can find it…”

  Iolas noticed how worried the non-apprentice was. “A wholestone,” he explained, “is the everyday name for–”

  “A Stone of Making Whole…” Saphienne said to herself, still amazed.

  “…Yes, for that.” He smiled, amused by her despite his own quiet awe. “They’re used for nontrivial repairs, and in very high demand. They can repair almost any damage, so long as it isn’t to anything living.”

  “Or magical,” Celaena added. “Father sealed the branch of the house that holds his old sanctum, just in case. And he told me that if I broke any of the enchantments left for my use, I’d have to go without, at least until he got around to repairing them.”

  Saphienne studied the tray where it hovered beside Laewyn. “Your father made… all of them?”

  “Most. Father told me wizards trade favours, for minor things like these.”

  Iolas laughed, and shook his head as he paced away. “Minor! Like it’s nothing…”

  Celaena stared after him. “Well, it’s nothing to father. And if we follow in his footsteps, then it’ll be trivial for us, too. Father seldom even bothers with a wholestone — whenever something breaks, he just casts the spell directly.”

  Laewyn shivered. “That’s scary. Being able to just snap your fingers and fix things, that’s…”

  “…A lot of responsibility,” Iolas agreed. He frowned as he faced the table. “You know, Celaena… this explains a lot about how you see things, growing up like this.”

  Celaena yawned again. “Well…” She shook her head, eyes watery. “…I can’t think of something witty to say. Shall we just get on with studying?”

  Seeing how quickly she was fading, Saphienne touched her arm. “Are you sure you’re awake enough?”

  The question irked Celena, who replied a little sharply. “I’ll be fine.”

  But Laewyn inserted herself on Celaena’s other side, and she grabbed her arm as well, addressing Saphienne. “She does this when she’s struggling.”

  “No I–” Celaena yawned a third time, and her eyes dropped to her cup. “…Fuck. This was meant to wake me up.”

  Insistently, Laewyn tugged on her sleeve. “Take a nap? Please? Just for an hour or so? You barely slept last night.”

  “Neither did you,” she grumbled, too weary to be embarrassed. “You’re not tired–”

  “I slept all morning.” Laewyn, meanwhile, was aware of how it sounded, and fought through her blush as she pulled Celaena away from Saphienne and ushered her to the door. “Just get some rest — we’ll wait around.”

  “But, father says that daytime naps are–”

  “He won’t know.”

  Still, Celaena wavered in the doorway. Her ears were drifting downward as she implored her fellow apprentices. “…Don’t break anything else? And don’t start without me?”

  “We won’t,” Saphienne promised.

  Reluctantly, Celaena let herself be led away by her friend, her ineffectual protests growing softer as she was all but dragged down the corridor.

  *   *   *

  While the pair were out of the room, Iolas made the best of the situation by fetching down shelves of books from Celaena’s library, stacking them into a pair of makeshift supports that he slid into place as he lifted the table. He leant on it gingerly. “I think it’ll hold… as long as no one stands on it.”

  The columns looked sturdy enough to Saphienne, at least for supporting more writing. She pulled up a chair and sat. “Why did Laewyn do that? You clearly weren’t jumping for a reason.”

  “She didn’t think that far ahead.” The table wobbled slightly as he took his hand away, and he started folding a sheet of paper to make a wedge. “She probably thought I was just nervous about scuffing the table. Which I was, actually.” Crouching down, he propped up one of the undamaged legs, then sank back into his chair. “I should have just went for it. Why’d you throw the tray?”

  “…Well, her father wouldn’t have left her with anything dangerous, so I expected it would be safe, and trying to drop it out the window seemed like it could go badly, which meant–”

  “Saphienne,” Iolas grinned, “were you testing how high up it could float?”

  “Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “Why else would I throw it up there? My conjecture was that it would descend back down to waist height, relative to the floor. This house has multiple floors, and the fact that the tray follows its user implies that Divination must have been– stop laughing, Iolas!”

  Her protest didn’t dissuade him, and Laewyn returned to see Saphienne glowering at him while he chuckled.

  Shutting the door, Laewyn retrieved what remained of her tea from the window and joined them at the table. “I have to ask: what happened, yesterday?”

  The two apprentices exchanged a look; Saphienne answered. “We’re not supposed to talk about it with anyone else. Not unless they’ve been through the same.”

  Laewyn slumped in her chair. “That’s what Celaena said. Whatever happened, it really upset her — I’ve never seen her like this.”

  “Bad dreams?” Iolas asked.

  Her expression suggested worse. “She was on edge all through yesterday. Usually, she gets self-conscious if we spend too long together, but she kept finding excuses for me to stay… and then she asked me if I’d spend the night.” She studied the reflection of her hands in the glossy wood. “She didn’t say it like… you know. She just wanted company. And when I said I should go, she looked scared. I’d never seen that before.”

  Deeply uneasy, Saphienne shuffled her chair a little closer. “What happened?”

  “I stayed in a guest room.” She shrugged. “I thought she just wanted someone else in the house, but she knocked the door a little later, and… well, we ended up sharing her bed, but it wasn’t–”

  “I believe you,” Saphienne said, keen to move on.

  Laewyn met her gaze, then managed an unsteady smile. “I know she likes me. I think she knows I like her? But we’re not… she’s not that kind of person, you know? She’s confident, but not about… our friendship.”

  Coughing, Iolas folded his arms on the table. “You didn’t sleep, though?”

  “She was tossing and turning all night. Kept talking in her sleep, waking up…” Laewyn closed her eyes. “…I was really worried. We dozed for a while before dawn, I think. I tried to tell her to stay and rest more, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  Iolas lay his chin on his arms. “She probably just needs time. I had a nightmare last night, too. Woke up, talked it through with my sister…” He pursed his lips, addressing Saphienne. “…Maybe she just needs to talk to someone?”

  She wasn’t sure she could help, but she wouldn’t let that stop her trying. “Maybe…”

  “Well,” Laewyn offered, “just now, she blew out like a candle when she lay down. I’ll check on her in an hour. I don’t know if she’ll talk to you, though… she holds a lot back, you know?”

  “I do.” Saphienne recognised herself, in that. Knowing that Celaena was resting now calmed her down again. “Thank you for staying with her. ‘Friends’ or not, that was a good thing to do.”

  Unaccustomed to their relationship being acknowledged, Laewyn forced a laugh. “Well, like I said — I’d rather spend my time with Celaena, than in the bakery.”

  Iolas perked up. “You know, just to lighten the mood: what do you want to do?”

  “For my chosen art? Not pastries, anyway.” She rubbed her nose, sniffing. “Or anything to do with flour. I used to like the smell of fresh bread, but now…”

  “So you don’t know.” He accepted that with a nod, but still pressed her. “What do you like to do, then, when you’re not spending time with Celaena?"

  “Um… hang out with my other friends?” She gave him a crooked grin. “Maybe steal a bottle of wine, if we can?”

  The thought made Saphienne lean away. “Why would you?”

  “What, you’ve never ‘borrowed’ something from home that wasn’t yours?”

  She scowled. “No, I understand doing that… mostly…”

  “I don’t,” Iolas sighed. “My sister does, though. My family call her a goblin — she makes things disappear, all the time. Used to pretend she didn’t know what happened to the wine. Now that she can request her own, she’s always offering to slip me some.”

  Laewyn was delighted by the image. “She sounds fun. Wish I had a sister like that.”

  “So that’s all?” Saphienne was disappointed. “You just… spend time with friends, drinking?”

  “We don’t drink that much. Or at least, not that often.” Aware she was being judged, Laewyn sank down a little. “And that’s not all I do. I like to go for walks…. and check for new exhibits in the hall… um…” Her nose twitched as she contemplated her pastimes. “Oh! And I like to listen to the stories at the shrines.”

  Iolas’ smile was tinged with irony. “You’re religious, then?”

  “Isn’t everyone, a little?” She sat up, a little more reverent than before. “I mean, I’m not very serious about it — I don’t have a patron god or goddess, or anything like that. I mostly just like listening to the liturgies.”

  “I know what you mean.” His expression softened. “There’s so many tales… they’re long and winding, but they have a lot of heart in them. They feel true. I used to like hearing them too, when I was little.”

  “What, you’re too old for them now?” Laewyn smiled as she said it, but her frown showed mild offense.

  Iolas raised his hands, his own smile apologetic. “Not trying to start a fight! My family all visit the shrines regularly, too. Just not really my sort of thing, not any more.”

  “Me neither,” Saphienne agreed. “I’ve only been once or twice.”

  Laewyn was surprised. “Well, suit yourselves. The priests always say: you don’t have to believe, for it to be true.”

  “Oh, I believe,” Iolas said, airily. “I believe the gods and goddesses exist, just like the spirits of the woodlands exist. I just have my doubts about… well, how it all fits together.”

  “You do?” She toyed with her hair as she contemplated him, a teasing smile on her lips. “Maybe you’ll end up a priest, then. That’s the other thing they say: a priest must have doubts, for their faith to have meaning.”

  Saphienne tutted. “That’s nonsense; I’ve read better aphorisms in children’s books. If meaning only comes from struggle, that excuses suffering.”

  “Or explains it…” Laewyn snorted. “…But, whatever. I don’t really take it all to heart. I just like the drama. I wish our village had a theatre–”

  A high-pitched scream filled the hallway.

  Iolas was on his feet first, but he hesitated, overtaken by Laewyn as she sprinted for the door and ran down the hall. Saphienne didn’t wait for him as she went after the older girl, and she could hear him trailing behind them as she followed Laewyn into what she thought was Celaena’s bedroom, and then through a small sitting room to the door of her actual bedroom.

  Celaena was curled on her side in her luxurious bed, tangled in the pink sheets, sweating through them as she clutched a silken pillow tightly to her chest. She was whispering, tone rising and falling in strange cadence, her eyelids moving rapidly as she trembled, fast asleep yet animated, her face twisted in terror.

  Laewyn recovered from the sight, and took a step forward — only for Saphienne to grab her arm.

  “Wait,” Saphienne hissed, her eyes wide and heart pounding as she listened.

  Iolas approached behind them, keeping a respectful distance… until he, too, heard what Celaena was babbling, and he joined them with rising dread.

  Desperate to intervene, Laewyn saw the apprentices’ expressions, and her anxiety deepened from frantic worry to cold fear. “What’s the matter? Do you know what she’s saying? It’s just like last night — I can’t make sense of it.”

  “No…” Iolas swallowed, mouth dry.

  “It’s not what she’s saying,” Saphienne said, slowly letting go of Laewyn’s arm. “It’s what she’s saying it in. That’s…” She turned to Iolas for confirmation, knowing what she heard, but hoping she was wrong.

  But he recognised it, too. “…The tongue of sylvan creatures; the language of woodland spirits.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “But… Celaena doesn’t speak it.”

  End of Chapter 31

  Chapter 32 on 17th April 2025.

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