Page 41 of Tempest

Iason closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I want to.”

“You don’t know why you want to kill him? I could name a few reasons.”

“No.” Iason sighed. “I don’t know why that… feels stronger. The need to go home.”

“Because I’m right, and you’re going to hate that when you come to your senses. You’ll be upset enough that you spoke to him like this, you know that.”

Iason nodded. “All right.” He tucked the knife back into his belt and let the magic go. Drakos collapsed to the floor with a soft groan. “Take me back.”

“Let’s go, wizard.” Levi took his hand, guiding him away from where the former Archmage lay in a shivering pile on the floor.

Iason felt Levi’s firm grip around his fingers, and squeezed slightly. His voice was so soft it was barely a whisper, but he knew Levi would hear it all the same.

“Thank you, dragon.”

* * *

Iason was quiet when they returned to the house.

“I thought he was dead,” was all Iason said, sounding less defensive than defeated, as if it were due to his own personal failing that the former Archmage of Mislia still had breath enough to babble incoherently while dressed in rags in a cell.

Levi shrugged. “I think death might have been better.”

Iason glanced at him, his expression unhappy. “Probably. He was a powerful man, before his son cast him low.”

“His son?”

Iason blinked. “I didn’t— Yes. I remember now. It was his youngest son, Hektor, who fled to Staria and somehow cursed him. I’d forgotten.”

“Do you think you found what your vision wanted you to see?” Levi watched as Iason filled a kettle with water, felt the gentle pull as Iason used his power to light the stove.

“Sorry,” Iason said softly. “I should have asked first.”

“It’s fine. It’s barely enough to notice.”

Once the water was steaming and Iason had gone through some kind of process, adding it to a different receptacle that contained a quantity of dried leaves or twigs, Iason poured two cups and pushed one toward Levi, who raised his eyebrows in silent question. “Just pretend you wanted it,” Iason snapped. “I’m trying to think.”

Levi picked up the cup. He sniffed the liquid. It smelled like… flowers, or herbs. Maybe both.

“You’ve never had tea, dragon?” Iason asked, sipping his own.

“No. Why would I? If I want to consume flowers, I’ll just eat them. Why would I boil them in water first?”

Iason rolled his eyes. “Just try it.”

Levi put the cup to his mouth, tipped it back, and drank the entire thing in one swallow. His mouth steamed. Iason was staring at him. “What?”

“You— Wasn’t it hot?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be?” Levi wrinkled his nose. “It tasted like hot flower-water. I’m glad you like it, but I don’t want any more.”

“You’ve never had tea before,” Iason said, slowly. “But I’ve seen you eat.”

“I enjoy the taste of fish, yes, but I don’t have to eat if I don’t want to.” Levi pushed the cup back across the counter. “You keep it. You like it. So does Sophie. She puts sugar in it. Honey. When she thinks you aren’t looking.”

Iason smiled briefly, but then his expression went grim again. “I shouldn’t borrow your magic to light the stove.”

Levi tilted his head, wondering what that had to do with tea. “It might taste better cold, but you would still need to steep the flowers. Or so I imagine.”

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