“Everything all right?”
“Fine. Just about to get started.” He looked down at his notes again, not really seeing them. “Did Savarin talk to you about what he plans to do with the spells?”
Etan’s expression changed subtly, his concern melting into something else. “Yes. I take it he spoke with you.”
Faelen nodded. “And asked for my help.”
“Philip said he could ask you, but you don’t have to do it.” Etan came closer. “It was something he stressed to Savarin.”
Faelen wasn’t certain how to feel about that—glad that he had the choice, but perhaps a little annoyed that Etan made it seem as if he were a child to be protected.
“I’m going to help. It sounds as if it’s going to be quite boring for me anyway. I thought I might bring a book.”
Early the next morning, Faelen wasn’t feeling quite as flippant, but he tried to look as calm as possible as he walked through the garden—mostly because Alexander matched him pace for pace at his right while Etan bracketed him on his left. Alexander had insisted on going with him as soon as Faelen had told him what Savarin planned. Telling Alexander might have been a mistake, but he couldn’t very well keep it from his twin. Etan had been waiting for them in the corridor and fell in beside them without a word. Faelen had shaken his head but didn’t protest, didn’t say anything.
Alexander was doing enough talking for the both of them, only not to Etan.
“You don’t know what could happen to you. Those spells are powerful, and so is Master Savarin. You could be hurt. I don’t know what you’re thinking doing this.”
“I’m thinking that this is important to Tournai.” Faelen kept his voice as even as he could.
“It may be, but you’re important to me. I’m sure Master Savarin can do what he needs to on his own.” Alexander looked past Faelen to Etan. “Didn’t he say he could work on the spells on his own after what you all did with him before?”
“He did,” Etan replied. “And he probably can, but he wants Faelen there just in case he needs a stronger connection. He’s doing more with the spells today.”
“So he can pick someone else!” The words burst out of Alexander, and he stopped walking in the middle of the path.
Faelen stopped as well and turned to him. He’d be wary of having this discussion in the garden, but Philip had ordered Loriot to keep it empty today.
“And who would you prefer to do this? Which of our relatives would you like to take my place? Or would you like to?” He sighed. “Alexander, I want to do this, and I will be fine.”
“You can’t know that.”
Faelen gestured at Etan. “Master Savarin worked on something much more extensive with the rest of the family, and everyone came out fine. Barring fatigue and headaches, according to Etan.”
“We really were all right,” Etan said. “And it was easier for those of us with stronger Talents. Faelen will be fine too.”
“You can’t know that,” Alexander repeated.
“But from everything we do know, it’s the most likely outcome,” Faelen said. “If Master Savarin even needs me. He might not. I might be bored for however long it takes him to work with the spells.”
“Faelen.”
“I’m doing this, Alexander,” he said quietly. “And it’s going to be fine.”
Alexander glared at him for a moment. “It better be.”
Faelen could only hope so too when Etan and Alexander left him at the edge of the small wood at the back of the gardens.
Savarin was already in the clearing when he arrived. “Good morning, Lord Faelen.”
Faelen wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t Savarin standing there in normal, weather-appropriate clothes. The morning was chilly, though clear, and a warm coat and gloves had felt necessary, though Faelen would spend his time out there as a cat.
“Good morning.”
“Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes, I am.”
Savarin explained everything once more and then asked Faelen to change. It was an odd moment, almost uncomfortable. He’d mostly only ever used his Talent in front of Alexander. It seemed wrong to do so in front of someone he didn’t know well at all, especially because if there was someone he wanted to show it to, it was Maxen. He shook the thought off and closed his eyes, nudging his Talent to the surface.
The familiar, comforting rush of it came over him, and when he opened his eyes a moment later, he looked at Savarin from a far different perspective. Savarin was looking at him as well, but Faelen ignored him for a few seconds as he stretched, settling into the shape of this other body. When he felt like himself again, he sat and looked at Savarin expectantly.
“Shall I begin?” Savarin asked.
Faelen nodded. He made himself more comfortable and watched Savarin, but there was very little to see. Savarin simply closed his eyes and stood there. Faelen was oddly disappointed. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected, only that it involved more than this. But magic wasn’t always or often flashy. Most people, even powerful ones like Savarin, didn’t have Talents that allowed them to turn into dragons or enormous cats.
He shifted his weight a bit, sitting more comfortably, settling in to wait. Perhaps he should have brought a book.
Then he jumped to his feet as he realized the clearing was filling up with mist. Because of what Savarin was doing? Or part of the spells? He studied the mist, trying to see if it was going to do anything. But it only hung in the air, hiding everything outside the clearing, even the trees ringing it—even obscuring Savarin’s figure, though he was only a few feet from Faelen. The usual noise of the woods was muffled and then gone. The lack of birdsong and squirrels rustling the leaves was strange. He didn’t like it one bit.
His breathing began to speed up, his heart leaping. Not being able to see was more disconcerting when he sat vulnerable as a cat.
The mist continued to rise around him, and little flashes of light, little hints of brilliance, danced inside it. They were fascinating, mesmerizing in a way, but still Faelen’s fur was bristling, an odd feeling, perhaps too catlike for his mind to handle easily. He’d never been so scared, using his Talent before…yes, he supposed he was scared all of a sudden.
From what Faelen could see through the swirling mist, Savarin didn’t seem to be moving much. Yet something was happening. Faelen had some odd half awareness of the protection spells, apparently, since Savarin had brought them back to their full strength. Now that awareness was stronger, more intense. Faelen couldn’t perceive whatever it was Savarin was doing, but he could feel something happening, changing. The air was strung tight, pressing in on him or trying to pull him apart, or perhaps both at once. It shouldn’t have been possible. But this was magic, and he didn’t know the rules for it. There had to be rules, didn’t there?
The pressure in the air was doing his head in, but instinctively, Faelen didn’t think whatever Savarin was doing was pulling on his Talent, not the way it had that earlier time, with his cousins. And instinct was all he had to go on.
It was an interesting problem—how this all worked, a logic exercise of sorts—that he could never solve because he had nothing but speculation. With the pressure pushing on his head, making it ache dully, it was harder to focus. So he turned to working through verb conjugations in a few languages, a habit formed when he was a child. It kept him occupied, briefly, at least.
Then he drifted, casting about for something else, and landed on Maxen. Inevitably, perhaps. Everything seemed to lead back to Maxen sooner or later. They hadn’t seen each other last night, and Faelen regretted that. Being with Maxen was somehow safe but humming with tension as well, and Faelen rather liked the contradiction, the way it put him on edge.
He let himself float back to that place, imagining being in Maxen’s arms, imagining Maxen’s kisses and gentle touches. Let all of it fill his mind so he could ignore what was happening around him and soothe himself with good memories, lull himself into almost a
half sleep.
He got lost in the daydream, until he was suddenly jarred from it. He sat straight up again and looked around. Little had changed, but…was the tension in the air loosening? Was the mist fading? He blinked rapidly. Yes, it was disappearing. Did that mean Savarin was done? Had he succeeded?
When the mist had lifted completely, the clearing seemed as it always had, and birdsong filtered once again through the trees. Faelen let out a long breath.
Savarin stood exactly where he had before, but fatigue lined his face. He met Faelen’s gaze. “We’re done, Lord Faelen.”
He nodded and closed his eyes, blocking out everything as he called up his Talent and changed back. He’d never before been so eager to do so, but it seemed to take him longer to grasp it, longer to pull it up and trigger the change. For one panicked moment, he thought he wouldn’t be able to, but then the magic slid through him as it always did.
When he opened his eyes, he was man-shaped again, and he let out another long breath. What had happened? Or had anything? He stayed seated on the ground. Best to take a moment to get his bearings.
“Are you all right, Lord Faelen?” Savarin frowned.
Should he say anything to Savarin? Probably not. The moment of fear seemed so silly now that his Talent had worked just fine.
“There was something… I’m fine, though. Just need a minute. It feels as if I was sitting in that position for hours.”
“You were.”
The unexpected voice had Faelen whipping his head around so fast, his neck popped. He winced and watched as Captain Loriot emerged from the trees at the edge of the clearing.
“Really?” Faelen couldn’t believe it had been so long. It seemed both ages and mere moments. He couldn’t make sense of it.
“These spells make it easy to lose track.” Savarin’s frown had deepened, but Faelen didn’t think it had anything to do with him, and when Savarin addressed Loriot again, he knew it. “Have you been here the whole time?”
“I couldn’t be.” But Loriot’s voice and the emotion in his eyes said he wished he could’ve.
Faelen remembered suddenly that these two were together, not married—not yet?—but living together under the same roof and raising a child together. Loriot had to have been worried about Savarin, since according to Etan, working with the spells had drained him of much of his strength the first time.
“I came to check on you as often as I could,” Loriot continued. “The mist made it difficult to see much though.”
“The mist is odd,” Savarin mused. “I’m still not sure where it comes from.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Loriot turned his gaze on Faelen, and he frowned now too. “Lord Faelen, are you all right? Do you need help?”
Being under the combined attention of both men was unnerving even if it was out of concern. “I’m fine.”
“The magic shouldn’t have drawn on you.” Savarin’s gaze sharpened, and Faelen would have squirmed if not for much practice. “I’m not sure I really needed you here, but I think your presence eased the way.”
“I don’t think anything was…drawing on me.” Whatever that meant. Faelen clambered to his feet, mostly to stop them from frowning down at him so intensely.
“But you said you felt something?” Savarin pressed.
“Yes, something. I’m not sure what.” Faelen pushed his hair behind his ears and concentrated on steadying himself on his feet. The headache wasn’t the worst he’d ever had, but it was making its presence felt. He’d prefer to still be sitting. “Did it work? What you did?”
Savarin’s expression slid from concerned to musing in an instant. “I believe it did, yes.”
“That’s good.” Better than good, but understatement was about all Faelen could manage at the moment. A little rest and he’d be good as new, though. “I’m glad it worked. I’m sure you have more to tell us, but I expect you’d prefer to only say it once, so I’ll wait. I’m going in now.”
“Are you truly all right, Lord Faelen?” Loriot had moved closer to Savarin, not quite touching, but leaving only a hairsbreadth of space between them. “Jadis is waiting in case either of you need him.”
While Jadis was possibly the country’s more capable and powerful healer, Faelen didn’t feel it necessary to see him. It almost looked as if Loriot was going to insist, though. “I really am fine. A slight headache, but it’s not bad. I mostly want a short nap in my own bed and some food. Possibly not in that order.”
His easy grin seemed to allay their worries, as did his promise that he would see Jadis immediately if he didn’t feel back to normal after his nap. Enough so, at least, that they allowed him to leave the clearing on his own.
He escaped from the woods with quick strides. Out in the garden, he followed the paths on the most direct route back to the palace. The walk loosened his muscles and made him feel steadier, but his head still ached, as if he’d stayed up reading too late in poor light, something he was quite familiar with. A headache potion and some rest would help. He didn’t need Jadis fussing over him for such a minor thing.
Alexander was pacing on the terrace when Faelen climbed up the few stone steps. He hurried to Faelen as soon as he saw him and opened his mouth to speak, but Faelen shook his head slightly and slid his gaze toward the guard standing close by.
Alexander got the message and turned to walk with him into the palace. Through some surprising feat of restraint, Alexander said nothing until they were back in their rooms. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m standing right here, aren’t I?”
Alexander frowned and narrowed his eyes. “I can see that. I also know you.”
Faelen rolled his eyes, but he laughed. “I’m fine. A slight headache, but fine.”
Alexander did not look reassured. “Do you need to see a healer?”
“It’s just a headache. I’ve had worse.”
“It’s a headache caused by a spell. You don’t know the effect that could have.”
Faelen tried to bite back the laugh this time, because Alexander was genuinely concerned, if a bit overbearing about it. “I had no part in the magic. I could just feel it in the air, like the pressure before a storm. You know how that can give you a nasty headache.”
“How nasty is your headache now?”
“Not that nasty. A potion, some food, maybe a nap, and I’ll be fine.” He’d better be. He planned on seeing Maxen that night if he could get away from his guardian of a twin.
There was a knock at the door, and Alexander opened it to admit Etan.
Faelen put his hand to his head. Make that two overprotective guardians.
Chapter Twelve
Would Maxen have been in a better mood today if he’d been able to see Faelen last night? Probably.
For one thing, he wouldn’t have had to dine with Mother, who spent a good portion of the meal pressing him to move back home. She’d said the same often, with an assortment of reasons including how he had no need to be in a house of his own when he wasn’t married, and even when he was, he wouldn’t really have to leave. And since Tristan had married—and hadn’t seen fit to bring his family to the palace with him—they really did need Maxen at home. It was exhausting keeping himself light and positive while also refusing her, especially since his brothers would also like it if he were there all the time. They didn’t just chafe under her rules; they were visibly upset. Thierry was beginning to seem strained under the expectations she had for him, if only because they were so rigid and left him no room to be himself.
Maxen wished Father hadn’t died.
He’d attempted to distract himself afterward by going to a tavern with Valentin and some others, but the two of them had only gotten impatient with the crowd after a single drink. They’d ended up leaving and walking up and down the bustling streets of the city’s entertainment district, talking some but not about anything serious.
Maxen had returned home late, bringing Valentin with him and sending him to
bed in a guest bedchamber. They’d been closer to Maxen’s house than to Valentin’s lodgings in the university quarter when they finally decided to call it a night, and his staying made more sense than making a long walk home alone.
They’d both dragged themselves from bed in the morning, though Maxen hardly noticed it until he’d sufficiently woken. Then, he’d found himself across the breakfast table from Valentin, who looked tired but also amused and annoyed.
“Are you always like this in the morning?” he asked.
“Generally unresponsive for a certain amount of time?” Maxen shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”
Valentin shook his head, but he laughed too. “I pity whoever you marry. They’ll never have a conversation over the breakfast table.” He seemed to consider for a moment. “Or morning sex.”
Maxen inhaled his chocolate and began to choke. He waved Valentin’s help off as he coughed. “Don’t surprise me like that,” he finally managed to croak out and accepted the water Valentin poured him to soothe his throat.
“What? You’ve never thought of it?” Valentin sat back in his chair and sipped his own chocolate.
“I…” He hadn’t. There hadn’t been anyone he’d wanted to wake up with on any kind of regular basis. He’d never even tried to spend a night during the few casual affairs he’d had. Very few and very casual.
But now there was Faelen.
“Oh. You haven’t before, but you are now. What’s happened?” Glee filled Valentin’s eyes.
“There’s someone.”
“Someone serious? You haven’t said anything.”
“I’ve mentioned Faelen.” He knew he had, probably too much, though he’d tried to restrain himself.
“Yes, but you said it wasn’t like that. Not that I didn’t notice how attracted to him you still were.”
Maxen frowned. Had he been so transparent? Probably. “I was. I am. I just don’t think he was at first.” Maxen shook his head before Valentin could ask him anything. He refused to tell anyone about something that seemed far too personal to Faelen. “Doesn’t matter.”
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