Page 52 of Seducing the Sorcerer
“I know what to do,” Jasper looked down at his bare wet feet and added, in a whisper, “If you don’t like me, I can get you a girl.”
Fenn could scarce believe his ears. This was a whole new side to Jasper. Fenn had been thinking of the lad all this time as practically a child, sweet, a bit naïve, unsure of himself, nervous—as what lad wouldn’t be with a difficult master like Morgrim. Clearly, that was not the full picture. Fenn had underestimated Jasper’s worldliness and the lengths he was willing to go to.
“Pretend I didn’t hear that. But I won’t tell Morgrim about any of this. And I’ll see what I can do for you about learning magic. But you got to trust that I can do that in a way that won’t make him angry.”
“All right.” The tips of Jasper’s ears were scarlet.
“Good. Don’t sell yourself cheap, lad.”
“You don’t know what it’s like. To be desperate,” Jasper said to the floor.
Fenn almost laughed. “You think? You think I never sold myself for a meal or a drink? But what I’m saying is that you don’t have to do that with me. I’m on your side, see? Now good night.”
And with that, Fenn trudged back through the rain to his stall, shaking his head in bemusement. He’d watched Morgrim and Jasper together often enough to be certain there was nothing sexual between them. If anything, Morgrim seemed extra vigilant when Jasper was about; not in the languid way of a man ogling a catamite, but in the way of a man who prefers to know the whereabouts of a wasp.
Was this why? Had Jasper made some approach out of desperation? Had Morgrim been offended or disgusted by it? But, if that were the case, why not simply send Jasper away? Of course, the lad might have begged not to be sent away. Morgrim might have agreed but remained uneasy with the situation.
It was just...the whole thing was topsy-turvy. Sixteen-year-old page boys didn’t make powerful court sorcerers uncomfortable. It was far more likely to be the other way around. And it was true that Jasper seemed afraid of Morgrim—afraid, especially, of being sent away. Fenn shook his head. There was more going on here than met the eye. And while he might be halfway head over heels for Morgrim, he wasn’t stupid, and if Morgrim wasn’t doing right by Jasper, then Fenn ought to say something about it before he left. Why should Jasper not learn magic, if he was so keen? Why not let him at least read some books on it?
And Jasper had got him thinking. How did Morgrim make magic? Was it reciting spells or calling up familiars or what? And why had Fenn not thought to ask before? He’d been too busy making cow eyes at Morgrim himself, that’s why. Perhaps he’d ask for a demonstration of magic too, before he went.
He lay down on the blanket at Squab’s feet, but sleep now felt even more impossible. He was jangling with nerves as well as sunk in misery. He stroked the crystal to turn on the lantern and picked up the treatise.
So far, Gargol thought magic could affect other magic in unintended ways. Magic could attract or repel and both were dangerous. For this reason, she thought working magicians should be solitary, for fear of the powerful magic of one pulling and altering the weaker magic of another. Fenn wasn’t sure that any of this was relevant to worple horses, but Jasper’s desperation to just be allowed in the library had shamed him. He ought to get through the treatise quick, before he went. He wouldn’t sleep tonight anyway. Might as well try to learn something.
But after a few pages, he realised his eyes were skating unseeing over the words. He’d heard something outside. He cocked his head. No, just the rain. Since he’d cleared the gutters there was now a hole that let larger drops through; pat, pat, pat. Sometimes it sounded like footsteps.
He turned another page but could not rid himself of the idea that someone was outside. Perhaps Jasper had come to double-check Fenn wouldn’t tell. He should get up and look. Just in case.
But most likely it would be no-one.
He put down the book, got up, unhooked the lantern and went outside.
There, in the drizzle, stood Morgrim. His hair and beard had caught the droplets and glittered with a thousand tiny points of light. His black robe seemed to melt into the darkness, so his face appeared to hover in the air. His fists were clenched at his sides. His pose was that of a man who’d been about to run, but changed his mind because being caught was slightly less awful than being caught running away.
“I saw your light,” Morgrim said, too fast. Nervous.
“Aye. Reading.”
Fenn spoke slowly but his whole being tensed, excitement clutching at his belly and his balls. Was this what he thought it was?
But the bitter disappointment and humiliation of earlier still burned. If Morgrim wanted him, let Morgrim make the first move. Unequivocally.
“I...” Morgrim closed his eyes for a moment.
Fenn stepped closer. “You all right?”
Morgrim opened his eyes. He didn’t move and he didn’t look away. And Fenn knew. Because there were only two reasons a bloke looked at you like that: fight or fuck. And it was clear Morgrim wasn’t thinking of hitting him, despite the clenched fists.
And everything in Fenn shouted “yes!” because it was going to happen. It fucking well was. And maybe it was going to be the kind of bittersweet parting gift that would make everything worse. Or maybe, just maybe, it would change everything and afterwards, Morgrim would ask him to stay.
Either way, Fenn was atremble with anticipation and desire.
Morgrim’s breathing was uneven and he was taut as a bowstring. He looked guilty, like a man who wants something he thinks he shouldn’t, almost a little afraid. Fenn let his weight fall onto his back leg. A relaxed pose. Non-threatening. Morgrim might be the most powerful sorcerer in the land, but he was still a man. Even blokes who waded into fist-fights or leaped on the most vicious horse might be twitchy in the bedroom. If Morgrim was of that type, it wouldn’t do to rush things.
“Fenn, tonight...at dinner. I don’t want you to think—” Morgrim made an impatient gesture, clearly directed at himself. “It’s not that I want to send you away.”
“No? Well, that’s grand because I don’t want to go.”
