The next page did little to improve Lucavion's expression.
Elara watched his eyes move over the dense illustration occupying nearly half the parchment, where several circles had been drawn over one another until the original geometry disappeared beneath runes, connecting lines, directional marks, and small annotations written closely enough that the entire thing resembled the work of a scholar determined to punish whoever read it after him.
Lucavion leaned nearer.
Then nearer still.
"What am I looking at?"
"A spell."
His gaze shifted toward her.
"That?"
"Yes."
"That is a spell?"
Elara felt the corner of her mouth rise.
Finally.
Something had managed to offend his sense of simplicity more than Academy terminology.
