The Consuls of the Vicariate (29 page)

“Very nice,” she said, taking half a step back and smiling.

He walked to their table, still grasping her hand, and the serving woman refilled their goblets. They sipped wine quietly for a few moments before Marac came over.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Marac asked, his words slurred slightly.

Laedron nodded. “I can see you’re having fun. Where’s Brice?”

“Left a while ago. Said he had something to take care of.”

“Left? Just like that?” Laedron asked.

“Yeah.” Marac let out a hiccup. “Sorry.”

“Looks like we’d better get you back.”

“No need to leave early on my part, my friend. I think I’ll head on back, but don’t trouble yourselves.”

“You sure?”

Marac slapped him on the shoulder. “Absolutely. I’ve found my way back before with far more than this to drink. I’ll be fine.”

Laedron smiled when Marac turned away and weaved toward the door. “Looks like he’s lost his tolerance for fine liquor.”

“Seems like you haven’t,” Valyrie said.

He furrowed his brow and stared at his half-empty goblet of wine.
How many have I had?
Two-and-a-half now and no effect? No sign of inebriation?
“How do you feel, Val?”

“Oh, quite well, thank you,” she said, giving him a smile that he attributed, at least in part, to the alcohol.

Laedron offered his hand after dropping a few coins on the table. “Want to get out of here?”

Taking his hand, Valyrie stood, stumbled over her chair, and balanced herself. “Sorry, stood up too fast.”

“It’s perfectly all right.”

Exiting into the street, Laedron kept her hand wrapped under his arm and escorted her along the road back to the Shimmering Dawn. Although Valyrie was clearly intoxicated, she had consumed less wine than he had, and he felt no ill effects whatsoever. In fact, despite the late hour, he still felt well-rested and fresh.

When they arrived at the bedraggled church, Valyrie’s hand slipped down his arm and clasped his hand. He gave her some resistance when she entered his room, but she pulled him the rest of the way through the door before closing it. Once inside, Laedron felt his back against the wall and her kiss on his lips. Then, he noticed her fingers slowly running through his hair and caressing the side of his face. Her other hand stroked his shoulder then slid down the side of his body.

The drink has gotten to her, taken control
, he thought when her hand reached his waistband. “No, not like this.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, the wine adding an unusual accent to her speech. He could tell she wanted him, but he feared that the alcohol might have heightened her lust instead of her affection.

“Just… not like this.”

She backed away, looking ashamed. “You don’t desire me?”

“Nothing like that.” Laedron shook his head, walked over to the bed, and sat on the edge. “If
it
happens, I want it to be something special for both of us, something we’ll remember in the morning and for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to be too hasty.”

She sat next to him. “It’s all right, Lae. Really, it’s—”

“No.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “I care for you, and I don’t want what we have to be ruined by a night of carelessness; I don’t ever want regret coming to mind when you look my way. Not ever.”

She nodded, then pressed her hands against his chest, causing him to lie back until his head hit the pillow. His eyes fixed on the ceiling, he felt Valyrie crawl up alongside, then she rested her head above his heart.

“If you’ll do nothing else, hold me close, Sorcerer.”

He lay with his arm wrapped about her shoulders, holding her tight. Unable to judge the time, he decided to stay until he felt tired and could fall asleep, but the feeling never came.

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Chapter Twenty →

Old Stories

V
alyrie stirred at his side when the dawn light beamed into her face. The stained glass subdued the light, but it was clearly enough to rouse her from her sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she arched her back and stretched her limbs. Then, her eyes met his, and shock filled them.

“What… what happened?” she asked.

Laedron grinned. “Nothing to be ashamed of, for we’ve only slumbered here. You wanted more. Well, the wine took control once we returned, to be perfectly honest.”

“You must think I’m a fool.” She sat up and straightened her clothes.

Laedron leaned over and put his arm around her. “Not at all. I would never think that about you. Drunk, perhaps, but not a fool.”

Her cheeks flushed. “This is so embarrassing.”

He turned her to face him. “There’s no reason to feel humiliated. I…”
Say something
.
I can’t say how I truly feel
.
What if it pushes her away? Could it push her away?

“Yes, Lae?”

“I…”
Just say it already
. “It may seem silly to you, since we haven’t known one another for long, but… I care for you deeply, Val. There’s something about you I find impossible to resist, and though I haven’t felt this feeling before, it’s unmistakable.”

His anxiety rising, he watched her sit in silence until he could take no more. “Please, you must say something.”

She blinked rapidly, then smiled. “I feel the same for you.”

He sighed in relief. “I’m glad. It makes it easier to bear.”

She gave him a concerned look. “Anything besides that on your mind?”

“I didn’t sleep much last night. In fact, I haven’t slept at all.”

“Anxious about my being next to you all night?”

“No, not at all,” he said, caressing her hand. “It’s something else.”

“You can tell me, Lae. Anything at all.”

“I don’t know what to say, really. I’ve been awake all night, yet I’m not tired in the least. In fact, I feel more refreshed and rested than ever. The wine, too. It had no effect. I drank nearly three goblets, and nothing.”

Confusion riddled her face. “I wonder… wait.” She looked past him, and when Laedron turned, he saw the Farrah Harridan book on the nightstand. Snatching it up, she flipped through the book. Then she said, “Here it is. This part is entitled ‘Rituals of Wizardry.’”

The ceremony called for an ancient essence. Once it had been acquired, the recipient was taken to a grove of standing stones, and the ritual was done. Imbuing one of their own with the essence, the druids proclaimed that, from that moment hence, he would be a wizard, one with the magic. He would take on the qualities of magic itself; he would be restless, impervious to toxins, and needing little sustenance. Flowing through him like water in the river, magic would embody his existence. Only one step remained for his full transformation, the final ritual bestowed upon them by their father’s father—the Font.

“How can this be?” Laedron asked. “I’ve had no rituals performed upon me in dark, druidic circles.”

“Jurgen did something to you to stop your death,” Valyrie said. “He used one of the soulstones, and we don’t know who, or what, was contained there.”

“Does it say how long this is supposed to last?”

“The book doesn’t give a frame of time. It could be permanent.”

Laedron collapsed onto the bed. “Permanent?” He let out a growl.

“We should go to the Arcanists and see what they can tell us.”

“No, we must find Jurgen.”

“He’ll return to us this evening. Knowing Demetrius Hale, we won’t get many more opportunities to speak with him.”

“All right.” He stood. “If you think it’s worth it.”

When Laedron entered the common room, Marac and Brice were sitting at the table. They both smiled when Valyrie stepped out behind him.

She was clearly upset at their cocky grins because she said, “I’ll get ready,” and ran into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Laedron shook his head and sat beside Marac. “It’s not what you think.”

“A pity,” Marac replied. “I should have expected as much, though.”

“Must we talk about this?”

“No, not if you have something else to discuss.” Marac looked over at Brice and laughed.

“Jurgen’s made me into a wizard.”

Brice and Marac exchanged odd looks.

“What?” Marac asked.

“With the spell, the one you asked him to cast, he put something inside me, the essence of whoever, or whatever, was in that stone.”

“And how did you come to this conclusion?”

Laedron clasped his hands on the table. “The book Valyrie has describes the ritual. The wording differs, but it sounds eerily familiar.”

“I’m so sorry, Lae,” Marac said, his head drooping.

“Nothing can be done about it now, not unless we find out more from the Arcanists.”

“Do you think they’ll have an answer?”

“Unlikely, but maybe they can point us in the right direction.” Laedron stood with Valyrie’s return. “Ready?”

Marac and Brice followed him out, and Laedron turned to Valyrie. “Can you show us the way?”

She nodded.

* * *

Arriving at the row houses across from the university grounds, Laedron breathed in the scent of fresh cut grass. The sounds of birds chirping and young people talking were thick in the air.
It’s as if the war never touched the lives of the people around this district
.
How lucky they are
.