“Aah,” Fawn said in that knowing way that used to grate on him like dirt in a wound. “You think they’re judging you. Judging your past.” He gave another little half shrug only to groan as her thumb dug into a knot in the muscles of his shoulder. “But if you refuse to speak to anyone, what else have you given them to consider? Certainly not the man you are now.”
He scowled at that. “Ah, yes. Let me, one of Vian’s Wolves, scourge of the Hobokins, waltz up to these nobles and highborns to broach a conversation.”
“Former scourge of the Hobokins,” Fawn corrected with a delicate chuckle. She circled around to the front of his chair, bundling her silver skirts before she straddled his lap in one smooth movement. As her weight settled against him, his hands automatically came up to rest on the curve of her waist. “Calling all who live in the Crux nobles and highborns is very generalizing. Also incorrect.”
“Oh?” Arlon asked, eyebrow raised. “I thought you said wizards like me were rare.”
“And they are,” Fawn said. “But regardless, you aren’t the only non-bloodline wizard currently in residence. Two others have been here for some time, now. They arrived a few months before your indenture even started.”
A frown tugged at his lips as he wracked his memory for anyone at breakfast who stood out. “Really? Who?”
“I wager you would find out if you asked around.” Mischief lit up her blue eyes, and she stole his frown away with a gentle kiss.
Arlon let out an annoyed sigh against her lips even as his eyes slid closed. The annoyance faded as the kiss deepened, and when she finally pulled away, his trousers were uncomfortably tight.
“Why can’t I just make magic with you?” he asked, fully aware of how pathetic the longing in his voice sounded.
Funny how things had changed. When Fawn had arrested him over a year ago, he had thought he hated her. Now, cut loose among the greater population of the Crux, he felt lost without her.
During the year he had served his sentence, Fawn had shown him all the miracles magic could accomplish. He’d gotten glimpses, but it wasn’t until the night he gained his freedom that she showed himexactlyhow it was made. The past two months had been eye-opening, and though he knew that embracing the magic in his blood could change the course of his life for the better, he didn’t know where to start.
Fawn’s smile was full of sympathy as she lifted her hands to cup his face. Her long, cool fingers lacked the extra joint thatfull-blooded Maeve had, but he couldn’t imagine a safer place to be than in between them.
“A’marra, I will never force you to cast or conduit for anyone else if that’s what you choose,” she said gently. “What I’m asking you to do is findfriendship.” Before his scowl could fully form, Fawn kissed it away. “I know trust is difficult for you. I understand all of the many reasons why that is. All I’m asking is that you try.”
Her hands released his face, and Arlon sighed as he rubbed his cheek. She let him sit with that for a moment, let the silence stretch once more until finally, he said, “Alright. I’ll find these non-bloodline wizards. Tomorrow, maybe.”
A smile graced her lips as she stroked her fingers through his thick, coal-black hair. “And what were you planning on doing today?”
Arlon raised an eyebrow as his hands tightened on her hips. He pulled her flush against him, letting her feel his need through the fabric of his trousers. “If the Grandmaster can find time in her busy schedule to indulge me… I think I have a spell I’d like to try.”
Fawn hummed, something mischievous entering her smile. “So you’ve been reading the book I loaned you?”
Heat creeped up his neck. He had expected a book calledFundamentals of Magicto be a dry read. He had been mistaken.
“It has been… enlightening.”
Fawn ground her hips down, and Arlon groaned at the heat of her, just out of reach through so many layers of clothing. “Which schools have piqued your interest?”
“Most of them have in some way or another.”
Fawn hummed again before she leaned forward, lips brushing his ear. “Is there a school in particular you would like to explore with your willing conduit today?”
The whisper of her lips against his skin sent gooseflesh down Arlon’s arms. “I have some ideas.”
Fawn moved off his lap, standing with one smooth motion before she offered him a hand. “Show me.”
2
The dungeon, in spite of its name, was a comfortable place for Arlon. It was private and quiet, secluded from the rest of the Crux by design. He’d spent hours down here building various restraints and tools at Fawn’s request, but until the night his indenture ended, he’d never used it as anything more than a workspace.
Now, surrounded by the tools of the magical trade, it suddenly became an overwhelming task to pick the right ones. In the past two months of freedom, Fawn had helped him explore the various schools on a surface level, but this was his first real attempt at crafting a spell. The many ideas he’d been carrying all scattered like a flock of birds, and faced with a full arsenal of equipment, he wasn’t even sure what school to settle on.
Fawn watched him from where she was reclined on the large bed at the end of the room. The mirrors surrounding it reflected her sly grin at him three times over.
“What school have you chosen, a’marra?” she asked at last.
“Abjuration?”
