Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1158: The Right to Stay Silent

Elara kept her attention on the 79 beside her Rotunda Judgment.

The deduction had become difficult to resent once Selphine reduced it to the choice Elara had actually made.

The Rotunda had judged Elise, not Elowyn Caerlin. Gervase becoming an increasingly poor association did not turn Corvin into the correct one by default. Corvin had ended the immediate problem, certainly, but Elise’s objective had required her to improve her position through carefully chosen associations.

Whatever else Lucavion had offered her on that dance floor, Corvin had brought very little political value with him.

Elara had accepted his hand anyway.

”How annoying,” she murmured, tapping one finger against the edge of the projection.

Selphine glanced over from Marian’s record. ”Because the deduction is wrong?”

”Because it isn’t.”

Mireilla’s amusement carried quietly from the other side of the projection. Elara ignored it.

The academic question had an answer now.

Another one had taken its place.

Before looking for him, she touched his name. Her record folded away, and Lucavion’s replaced it across the projection.

His results possessed none of the neatness she expected from someone ranked fifth.

Formal magical performance wandered from respectable to disastrous before reaching Oral Theory.

40.

Mireilla leaned closer to the projection, apparently checking whether another digit intended to appear. Selphine informed her that the record had finished loading; Mireilla straightened without admitting what she had been looking for.

Elara understood the impulse.

She had spent enough evenings tutoring Lucavion to find the number painfully believable. He could look at a damaged formation, identify where mana would accumulate, predict which pathway would fail under pressure, and sometimes repair the problem before remembering the proper name for what he had done.

Ask him to describe the same process in accepted academic language and catastrophe became a realistic outcome.

Then the record reached the practical evaluations.

Combat Awareness — 100.

Weaponship — 100.

Marian shifted nearer. Mireilla looked from the forty to the two perfect scores and declared the entire arrangement offensive to anyone who had studied properly. Selphine’s response about studying swordsmanship less properly did little to comfort her, and the argument quickly expanded into whether someone could reasonably be called remedial and terrifying at the same time.

Elara let it move around her.

She had already found what she wanted.

ROTUNDA JUDGMENT — 82

Her hand stilled.

Selphine noticed.

The public assessment beneath the score was broad enough to be irritating. Lucavion had fulfilled significant elements of his assigned identity, adapted effectively to changing social circumstances, and displayed strong situational judgment. His deduction concerned incomplete adherence to the priorities and opportunities associated with Corvin’s role.

Nothing identified the specific mistake.

”He lost points.”

Selphine stepped nearer, read the assessment once, then collapsed the explanatory panel with one touch. ”He was deducted points. That does not mean the dance caused them.”

Elara glanced at her.

”You already have a suspect,” Selphine added, ”and now you want the evidence to cooperate.”

”I do not do that.”

Mireilla looked over. ”You do.”

Elara ignored her with greater effort this time.

Selphine was right about the important part.

Corvin could have lost marks elsewhere. Lucavion had admitted at lunch that he had barely respected portions of the dossier, which left a generous number of opportunities for him to offend an examiner. The eighty-two proved very little by itself.

But Lucavion had crossed the floor.

That part remained.

He had seen Gervase moving toward her before the man reached her. He had intercepted him before Elara herself decided whether refusing the invitation was necessary. When Gervase applied pressure, Lucavion had dismantled it with insulting ease, turned the remains into an ashen flower, and continued into the dance as though provoking a high-ranking noble in the middle of an examination had been a minor scheduling inconvenience.

And he had proposed the dance.

Elara touched the edge of the collapsed assessment. ”He was the one who approached me.”

Selphine’s gaze returned to the eighty-two. After a moment, she nodded. ”That supports the question.”

Only the question.

That was enough.

Elara closed the record. ”I need to find him.”

Mireilla’s interest sharpened immediately, but Selphine cut across whatever she was about to ask. This had stopped being about the grade several minutes ago.

”No,” Elara agreed, already turning from the projection.

That part had been solved.

*******

She found Lucavion beneath one of the broad trees beyond Block 7-A.

Finding him was considerably easier than finding any evidence he intended to accomplish something with the morning.

He had claimed a patch of shade with extraordinary dedication, his back against the trunk and one leg stretched through the grass. Nothing resembling a book, examination sheet, weapon, or useful task had survived within several paces of him.

Selphine and Marian had followed Elara as far as the meadow. Neither needed to ask why she changed direction.

Lucavion saw them coming.

His eyes passed over the other two before settling on Elara. ”You checked mine.”

”I did.”

”I had hoped the forty might hide among the more flattering numbers.”

Elara stopped beneath the outer branches. ”It was difficult to miss.”

”A tragedy.”

Marian nearly joined in, but Selphine caught her by the sleeve and drew her toward the edge of the shade. The attempt at privacy was transparent enough that Lucavion watched them go before returning his attention to Elara.

”So which number offended you?”

”The Rotunda.”

The ease remained in his expression, though his attention sharpened.

Elara stepped closer. ”How much did you understand about what it was judging?”

”Enough.”

She waited.

Lucavion looked up at her, tested the possibility that the single word might survive, and apparently thought better of it. He plucked a fallen leaf from the grass.

”The person on the card mattered more than the person wearing it. Relationships, circumstances, objective. The usual collection of instructions everyone ignored until they became inconvenient.”

That matched her conclusion.

Elara rested one hand against the back of the nearby bench. She pressed him on Corvin’s objective, his dependence on useful associations, and whether Lucavion had understood that his choices could affect his score. He answered each in turn, offering enough to remain truthful while making her extract every useful piece.

When she reached the Second Measure, the leaf stopped turning between his fingers.

”Did you know approaching me might hurt your result?”

Lucavion looked at the leaf once, then raised his eyes. ”Yes.”

No joke followed.

Even Selphine’s attention shifted back from the path.

”How badly?”

”No idea.”

”You still came.”

”I did.”

The admission settled more heavily than Elara expected.

He had known the choice could cost him.

Yesterday, none of that uncertainty had shown when he crossed the Rotunda.

Elara moved around the end of the bench. ”What did you know about Gervase?”

”That he’d been watching you.”

”So had half the room.”

”Half the room was better behaved.”

”That is a very low standard.”

”I work with what the nobility gives me.”

The answer nearly dragged her away from the point. Elara refused to follow.

”What made him different?”

Lucavion let the leaf fall.

”He watched the people around you more than he watched you. Every time someone stayed near you, he checked who they were, how long they stayed.” His gaze drifted briefly toward the students crossing the meadow. ”He lost interest in his own partner whenever someone else had yours.”

Cedric had noticed some of that.

Lucavion had noticed enough to act.

When Elara asked about the change in Initiative, he told her Gervase had begun moving before half the floor settled.

”So you thought he would cause trouble.”

”I thought he might.”

Elara studied him. ”That was enough?”

His gaze returned to hers.

”For me.”

Two words, offered with the austere finality of a verdict, as though their implications were merely the most obvious arrangement of facts in the world.

That made them considerably more troublesome.

At lunch, Lucavion had already admitted that Gervase made him suspicious. Selphine had connected the behavior to the ceremonial flame, another moment when Lucavion acted before those around him understood why.

There had been one important difference.

The flame had surprised him.

Gervase had not.

”You were waiting for him to do something.”

”I was watching him.”

”That is not the same thing.”

”I know.”

Elara almost asked the obvious question then.

’Then why did you move?’

Instead, the memory reconstructed itself in order.

Gervase leaving his position.

Lucavion cutting across the floor.

The quiet confrontation.

Pressure spreading.

Black ash curling through it.

Then Lucavion before her with one hand extended as though none of the preceding seconds had been unusual.

She had assumed he was provoking Gervase.

Then that he was testing her.

Both could still be true.

Neither required him to risk his result.

He understood enough about Corvin to know the dance was questionable. He had recognized Gervase as a potential problem before Elara reached the same conclusion.

And he had intervened before she actually needed him to.

Elara stopped working around the question.

”Why?”

Lucavion looked up.

The quiet between them changed.

She stepped closer. ”Corvin gained almost nothing from Elise. You knew that. You knew choosing me might damage your score, and Gervase had not even reached me yet.”

He offered nothing.

”You could have waited. If I refused him, nothing was required from you. If I accepted, then it would have been my decision.”

Still nothing.

A branch shifted overhead, broken sunlight moving across his shoulder as Elara came to a stop directly before him.

”So why did you choose me?”

Something shifted.

Lucavion’s expression did not fracture, nor did his posture betray any sudden rigidity. Yet the effortless remove he had preserved through every preceding question drew taut, narrowing by degrees until it was no longer distance so much as a veil.

He understood what she was asking.

Elara felt her pulse strike once at the base of her throat.

”Was it because you—”

Lucavion moved.

The distance disappeared so quickly that her unfinished question remained caught behind her teeth. One moment he was against the tree; the next his shadow crossed hers, and one cold finger settled lightly against her lips.

Elara froze.

Behind her, Marian’s shoe scraped through the grass.

Lucavion stood close enough that Elara had to tilt her chin to hold his gaze. His fingertip was cool against her mouth, familiar in the same irritating way his hands had been during the dance.

For once, there was very little amusement in his eyes.

”I am going to exercise my right to stay silent here.”

Nothing moved for several breaths.

He had answered how thoroughly he understood the examination. He had conceded that his choice might cost him. He had explained what he noticed about Gervase and when.

Every question had received something.

Until that one.

The silence gave her no clean answer about Gervase, Corvin, herself, or whatever reasoning Lucavion kept behind that infuriating expression.

It only marked where his answers ended.

And that was information too.

Elara’s gaze dropped to the finger still against her lips.

Lucavion followed it.

He lowered his hand.

”So this is where you stop,” she said once it was safely away.

A little of the familiar amusement returned. ”You wanted information.”

”I wanted an answer.”

”You found a boundary. Those are useful too.”

Behind Elara, Marian began what promised to be a substantial objection. Selphine caught it before it fully emerged, though the look she directed at Lucavion suggested she had formed her own opinion regarding the necessity of fingers.

Lucavion stepped around Elara and brushed grass from the back of his trousers. ”You should check your Academy cards when they arrive.”

Elara turned after him. The change of subject was shameless enough that laughter almost escaped.

”You are fleeing.”

”Relocating.”

”From a tree?”

That stopped him.

Lucavion looked back at the tree, then at Elara.

”...The location had become compromised.”

Marian made a strangled sound.

Lucavion continued toward the path.

This time, Elara let him.

She had not received the answer she came for. Following him across the meadow would accomplish little; he had already drawn the boundary, and Lucavion was not the sort to mistake pursuit for persuasion.

Even so, Elara’s thoughts returned to the moment beneath the tree.

The instant before his hand moved.

He had heard the question she had not finished asking.

He had understood precisely where it was leading.

And, for once, Lucavion had decided that silence was the safer weapon—not because he lacked an answer, but because turning it into a joke would have revealed too much.