Page 78 of Seducing the Sorcerer
“Well?” Fenn prompted.
“You’d been having such a hard time of it. And I felt so guilty. I thought if I invited you to stay as my guest, at least you could have a rest. And I wouldn’t feel quite so bad because I wouldn’t be making you work for me as well as lying to you. It was a risk, I suppose, but you hadn’t anywhere to go. It didn’t seem a very big risk. I gave Aramella a shock, though, saying you were free to go, which was the complete opposite of what I’d told her I was going to say.”
“I see. So Aramella knows about you. And nobody else?”
“The chief tier ministers know. We had to inform them. And some members of the high command in the army and the navy. And a couple of witches in the town who I consulted out of desperation. But no-one else. I hope.” Morgrim looked up. “Well, except you. Now you know. Everything.”
Fenn stared at him, wordless, trying to adjust to the way the world had turned.
Eventually, Morgrim glanced down and away, back to the rain. His voice, when he spoke, was resigned. So resigned, Fenn’s heart nearly broke.
“I suppose you hate me now.”
Chapter 16
Fenn looked at the top of Morgrim’s bowed head, at the strands of white amongst the black of his hair. Hate. Did he hate Morgrim? He wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t sure how he felt, about any of this.
Morgrim looked up and Fenn felt as if he was seeing him for the first time: his narrow face, haggard from sleepless nights and tension. His devilish beard and dark clever eyes, currently dull, without hope. And the deep lines on his face, drawn there by the years and the demands of his job.
It felt as though there were two Morgrims: the terrifying double-crossing court sorcerer of legend and the other, the one who lay with Fenn in the hay and listened to him spill out his guts, the one who rode with him and lent him books and handkerchiefs, the one who liked kittens, and wanted rough sex and was nearly too shy to say so.
Only they were both real.
“Funny,” Fenn heard himself saying. “Heard you were a schemer. Heard you played folk like counters in a game.”
Morgrim looked away again. “It’s not a game.”
There was such anguish in his voice that Fenn almost embraced him right there.
“Aye, I get that. But you didn’t let me finish. Because now I found out it’s true, turns out it don’t matter to me in the way I thought it would. Because you only did it to try to hold back a war.”
Morgrim’s eyes snapped wide. “It...it doesn’t matter? You don’t hate me?”
“Bit slow sometimes, aren’t you, for such a clever bloke. No, I don’t hate you. Can’t say I like this. Don’t like that you used me. Don’t like how you’re using the lad. But I can’t fault the reasons why you’re doing it. War’s a terrible thing. Reckon I’d take a lot worse to hold that back.”
Morgrim frowned. Clearly, not quite believing. “All the same, Fenn, I’m sorry.”
“Aye, well. I am and all. About this whole situation. But what I don’t understand is where all the other magicians are? In the country, I mean. Why aren’t they flocking round to help?”
“You know why. There aren’t many these days. And nobody’s sure why. Of course, we’re looking. But I’m only forty-three. We thought we’d have years to find me an apprentice. The crystal fixers are doing what they can, developing better cannon and so on. But anyone powerful enough to stop a magical attack, to defeat an army, to make a show of power so everyone leaves us alone—no.”
“Gods.”
“Well, I say ‘no’.” Morgrim took a deep breath. “Fenn. I didn’t want to lay all this on you. It’s why I was sending you away. Because there is one man who might be powerful enough, but he’s new to magic, new to his power. Doesn’t know how to harness it yet.”
It took Fenn a moment to understand.
“Me? Me and my worple horse? Saving the country from an invading army? Oh, my stars. Oh Gods. Having a laugh, are you?”
“You’ve got magic pouring out of you. Meeting you has given me more hope than I’ve had for a long time. I know you’re not ready. That’s why you have to go away. Somewhere safe where you can learn what you’re capable of. You can’t stay here. There’ll be more attacks.”
“But you won’t come?”
“Of course not.” Morgrim’s frown was back. “I have to stay. Keep up the charade. But you’ve bought us time. Beating that hex! People will think I had a hand in that too. Even Jasper doesn’t know the truth there. You’ve bought us weeks, I should think. Maybe months.” He paused. “But anyway, I’m sorry. For everything. Not just for using you, but for keeping you here so I could get your measure. Because I did that too. Aramella and I have been deciding whether we should train you up, or whether we should just let you go. We knew it could be dangerous for you to stay but we did it anyway.”
Compared to everything else, this seemed inconsequential, a minor peccadillo. Although it did cast a new light on all those conversations about statecraft and ethics.
“And you decided I’m all right, obviously,” Fenn said, a bit drily.
