Page 75 of Seducing the Sorcerer
Fenn felt as if the ground had vanished beneath him, chair and all. It was like that day on the mustering ground, only this time there was nothing holding him up either.
“What?” he said.
“No magic. I have none.”
“None?” Fenn echoed, faintly. He still felt as if perhaps he hadn’t understood.
“That’s right.”
“So...so...wait. You’re a fraud?”
Morgrim twitched. “No.” But then he shrugged. “Yes. Sort of. I used to have it. But not anymore. I lost it. Two years ago.”
“But, the clouds!” Fenn gestured helplessly at the window, at the rain.
“They were the last thing I conjured. Well, nearly the last thing.”
“But how can that happen? How can you lose magic?”
Morgrim seemed to shrink into himself. “I don’t know. But I suppose I did too much. Thought I was more powerful than I was. I wanted to stop the drought. I experimented here, conjuring clouds. I thought it had worked because—” He nodded at the amorphous grey mass outside. “Well, you’ve seen them. So, I went out into the countryside, to the north where the drought’s worst, and I worked the magic again. Only this time, I gave it everything I had. Everything. Because I wanted enough rain to cover the whole area.
“I was alone. I always work alone. The magic was building, the cloud was gathering. It was raining. And then—everything stopped. There was an...an emptiness. As if I was nothing. Like a wound in the soul. And the magic just...died. I tried again. Lots of times. But nothing happened. I collapsed and I must have passed out for a bit because when I woke up it was morning and some people from the local castle, where I was staying, had come to find me. But the next day, there was still nothing. I tried to make a light. It was one of the first things I learned. And I couldn’t do it.
“So, I came home to the tower. The clouds were still here and I couldn’t send them away. I couldn’t do anything. And at first, I thought, never mind. I overextended myself. It’s just exhaustion. But I rested and rested. And then I tried and I tried to do magic again. And I’ve tried everything. And it’s been two years and I still can’t do anything. I can’t send a hex away. I can’t defend myself. I can’t defend anyone. If someone attacks, I’ve got nothing.” Morgrim’s voice wobbled. “I...I still can’t even make a...a light.”
Fenn shook his head slowly, trying to take it in.
All this time he’d thought of Morgrim as breathtakingly strong. So certain in his power and his position that nothing could touch him. But that wasn’t the case at all.
Morgrim had nothing.
This was why he hadn’t dealt with the river hex. This was why he’d shown Fenn no practical magic. This was why he’d shown Jasper none. This was why Morgrim was so bloody jumpy and tense all the time. Someone was trying to kill him and he was as defenceless as the kitten asleep on the hearth.
Morgrim was standing with his head down, shoulders drooping. He put his face in his hands and Fenn remembered the night he’d flown in and seen him through the library window. Morgrim, despairing. Not about the drought, or not only about the drought. But about this, obviously.
Morgrim the Sorcerer, with no magic.
Gods.
Fenn had only had magic for a few short weeks, but he could sense, a little, how awful losing it must be. So, on top of someone trying to kill Morgrim, he was also dealing with the devastating personal loss of magic.
What a bloody terrible, awful situation.
And while a thousand ramifications to the situation were lurking in the back of Fenn’s mind, the most immediate one was that Morgrim was upset. As who wouldn’t be?
Fenn got up, put a hand on Morgrim’s arm.
“Gods. Morgrim. I had no idea.” That wasn’t enough. Fenn put an arm around Morgrim’s hunched shoulders. “Oh, petal. Gods, all this time, eh? And that hex thing. And you with nothing. Oh Gods.”
Morgrim shook his head and tried to shrug Fenn away. He took his hands away from his face.
“Stop it.” Morgrim’s voice broke. “Stop being nice to me. Don’t you understand? Don’t you see? I’ve used you. This is why I invited you to stay. To keep up the charade that I still have power. Because you’ve got a flying horse. It’s staying at the tower. You’re wearing my colours. You’re using a saddle blanket with the tower’s emblem on it. I made sure of both those things. So, people see the horse and assume I made it.”
Fenn let his arm drop from Morgrim’s shoulders.
He felt, for a moment, nothing. A terrible emptiness, as if he was caught in the eye of a storm. Like a wound in the soul indeed.
Used.
