II. The Magical Baker
There were so many memories across Citrine’s dining room, each one from distinct periods of time. The first when Vahn had come down with her during the first winter break without her at university. They’d set up the shop then with help of her family. Then the next periods were Vahn spending time there on break, taking over her dining room with what he had to study over break. Then it was the nebulous time between when Vahn officially graduated, a glistening bangle on his wrist, and to the announcement he was to be a Wayfarer Magician. Finally, after that, it was when she helped him shove items into his bag, everything he might have ever needed down below. It was friendship, living still in her humble dining room. And oh, how Vahn had missed it so.
The sound of Citrine giggling from her tiny kitchen was music. Hawke had immediately gone to help her as soon as she showed him in. Her voice rang true with joy, especially as she and Hawke traded teasing barbs. Vahn figured they’d get on and was delighted to hear it.
And besides, Vahn was happy being somewhere he knew and only truly acknowledged it after he’d sat down. Sure, hearing Hawke wax poetic about every town or village that had run him out for his misdeeds was amusing, but Vahn had been growing homesick. At first, he thought it was simply for the Floating World, but now he realized it was for here. All the tension that had knotted up in his spine had melted walking through the doors. Whatever was going on outside with the crowd was so far away while Vahn sat as relaxed as could be in Citrine’s home.
Citrine had decorated her dining room with soft yellow wallpaper along the walls, spelled to withstand dust and time. The tall windows overlooked the dead-end street, with magicked wind chimes hanging in each one. They twinkled when the breeze hit them, helping the wind move farther through the house to keep it cool in the summer. She had glass baubles hung up near the windows as well, each one with a painted summer flower. At night, they’d twinkle with stored Solar Magic. Never too bright, but just enough light for the occasional midnight snack.
The kitchen was narrow, Citrine and Hawke giggling past one another as they moved, and it was built with the usual Floating World amenities. A cooler to keep food cool running on Lunar Magic, an oven and stove magically lit with Solar Magic, and pantries and cupboards that were deeper than they first appeared. Citrine always kept her kitchen full of every ingredient she could get her hands on so she could try something new at a moment’s notice. Not all of them were good, but Vahn had always been a willing taste-tester. He missed those days.
The sitting room doubled as the entry from the stairs into her shop and she’d stuffed it full of soft furniture with flower printed designs. Vahn had always liked curling up in the oversized armchairs simply to read. The last time he’d been here, it had been too chaotic to do so; he’d been preparing for his journey below and they’d strewn all sorts of items across the room. It was cleaned up now, but that made sense. It hardly looked like anyone sat in there, which made him sad. Citrine had as much trouble making real friends as he did, but he'd hoped that had changed in the time he’d been gone.
Up a narrow flight of stairs was her bedroom, a guest room that had once been Vahn’s entirely, and then her tiny bathroom with a tub big enough to sink into. He could still sense his enchantments on it, floating down the stairs to touch him because his magic remembered him. It’d been an easy glyph; store Solar Magic streaming in from the multi-colored window and with a simple touch, it would be released to keep the water warm.
It'd been so easy back then. The magic here was manufactured to never resist a magician’s hand. Not like the Wild Magic below. Always resisting until you showed a certain finesse, admiration, or something entirely different.
Vahn brought himself out of his memories and back to the dining room. Citrine had new pictures framed on the wall around her dormant fireplace. Magically constructed art of her family, realistic to a curious degree. They were in sepia tones for now, but Vahn was sure a research magician was hard at work divining a way to make images in full colors. Magic just needed to learn red from blue from yellow. The World Below had adopted a similar way of constructing pictures, but it paled in comparison.
Maybe Vahn could whisper this spell into the Wild Magic upon their return and help whatever hedge witch was attempting the feat. Elwick did say Wild Magic carried spells across itself. What if it simply needed to learn it as a magician did? Vahn was curious to see if there was actual truth to that and filed that away for later.
Some of the pictures had her and Vahn, smiling bright at the magician who’d done the spell. Younger, full of fresh ideas and joy. It felt like years ago, but in truth, not that long at all. He saw the worry in his smile captured out of time clearly now. A worry of the unknown he was facing all by himself. It made him nervous that worry was still coiled in his heart and he focused on Citrine’s brightness instead.
She was happy here. Grown into her own despite others deeming her too weak to wield magic effectively at all. Vahn was happy for her and also a little jealous. A whole business of her own to look after doing something she loved and a family that loved her unconditionally, even if they were an island away. They didn’t mind that she couldn’t follow in the footsteps of her brothers, who’d become renowned research magicians. They’d wanted her happy. And…
The door to the kitchen swiped aside, releasing the aroma of dinner, and Vahn threw all lingering thoughts to the back of his mind, locking it away. Citrine came out with dinner on a platter, Hawke quick at her heels with drinks and sides. It was cute seeing Hawke so. He whistled a fanfare as they moved. A man at home so out of place beyond the walls here.
“Did he help?” Vahn teased.
“Yes! More than he should have for being a guest!” Citrine gave Hawke a look which he rolled his eyes at. “Honestly! You could have propped your feet up.”
“I like helping,” Hawke insisted as he set the drinks down. “And I liked seeing your kitchen too. A little different than what I’m used to, but kinda similar.”
“You liked pushing a glyph and making fire.”
Though Hawke insisted otherwise, his cheeks had grown pink. With a triumphant grin, knowing she was right, Citrine laid out dinner. Roasted hen seasoned with rosemary and copious amounts of garlic alongside diced potatoes and carrots cooked in the same pan. As a side, Citrine had thrown together a salad with fresh greens and ripe tomatoes, and also had a plate of rosemary biscuits. A bit much for a single person, but before Vahn could ask if she’d been expecting company somehow, she was already answering the question herself.
“You’re lucky I was making enough for the next few days.” She sliced the hen with her enchanted knife, the blade going through the meat like it was butter. “Big day tomorrow and the next.” She sat herself between Hawke and Vahn, smiling all the while. “But I’ve plenty! Don’t give me that look, Vahn.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been giving her an apologetic look and chuckled.
“I can make you something tomorrow,” Hawke offered.
“No! You’re my guest.” Citrine huffed. “I like spoiling my guests!”
Vahn grinned at them. “You both like cooking too much.”
“Don’t complain!” Hawke insisted as he helped Citrine divvy everything up between the three of them. “If I didn’t cook, you’d be eating purple.”
Citrine almost dropped the glass she was filling as she doubled over, snorting laughter. Vahn covered his face, still embarrassed, but even he couldn’t help but laugh at his own ridiculousness. He’d get the hang of cooking one of these days, he promised himself.
The meal was warm. Nostalgic, even. Vahn missed Citrine’s small touches more than he’d ever realized. Hawke was delightfully keeping Citrine talking, curious about her, her shop, and everything non-magic related. It was cute seeing him so. A little freer here with no one expecting him to be the bard with the enchanted voice. No looking over his shoulder to make sure no one recognized him. An authentic version of himself even Vahn hadn’t seen much.
By the time the sun began setting, they’d polished off their plates and Citrine had doled out dessert. Leftover scones from her shop. Still gooey and warm from the Time Magic in her display case which kept all kinds of baked goods fresh all day.
Vahn wished her shop was higher on the island. Sunsets from up here were a sight to behold, but there were so many buildings in the way here that were even taller. Maybe another day, Vahn could drag Hawke to see it. All the colors as the sun shined through the clouds clinging to the islands. How dark and long shadows became. Vahn had missed it too much.
Benign conversation continued over wine Citrine had also shared. A soft taste spiced with rose and lavender. It smoothly went down Vahn’s throat as he sipped. Another thing he missed. The World Below didn’t quite have wine like this. It was harsher, or at least what he could find at random taverns was.
Eventually, they grew quiet and contemplative. As the sun continued setting, Citrine’s curiosity became more and more overt. Now with no distractions, she set her sights on Vahn. So directly, he knew he’d have to finally explain why he was here instead of hedging around it like he’d been doing.
“I’ve been patient enough, Vahn,” Citrine said and laid her hands flat on the table like she intended to launch herself at him if he thought to weasel his way out of answering. “Spill. What are you doing back? Does anyone know?”
“No,” Vahn said quickly. “I want to keep it that way.”
Citrine mimed locking her mouth. “Not a soul. But what’s going on? I thought Wayfarer Magicians were explicitly banned from coming back until they were summoned.”
“Yes…” Vahn exhaled and slumped back in his chair. Where to begin? He glanced at Hawke, hoping for a start, but Hawke watched him expectantly too. Vahn supposed he could start from the beginning, when he first began to feel a return was in order. “We had a run-in with someone who calls himself King Elwick of the Wild.”
Out of the two of them, Citrine adored studying history. Vahn got by with passing interest, but Citrine would lose herself in old history books simply absorbing the information. If she’d had more magic, she could have honed her Time Magic to help aid historians.
Speaking Elwick’s name made her narrow her eyes in thought. There was familiarity there and that worried Vahn more than he thought it would.
“Wait,” Hawke interrupted, leaning forward, “you don’t think that’s his name?”
“He could have adopted it,” Vahn supplied and watched Citrine. She had begun nodding.
“He must have,” she said. “There was once a King Elwick from before the islands rose to the sky. He was a practitioner of great magic we don’t know anymore and was ultimately one of the weavers who created the magic necessary for the floating islands.” She crossed her arms thoughtfully. “Outside of that context, however, I’m unsure if this would be the same Elwick. It can’t be.”
“This Elwick is king of a Wild Hunt he created,” Hawke added. “You hear of that?”
Citrine blinked and tilted her head. “That fairy tale? It’s real?”
“Very,” Vahn and Hawke said at the same time. They caught each other’s eye and Vahn let Hawke continue the explanation so he could drink a little more wine.
“He orchestrates bargains with us down below,” Hawke explained haltingly. He stared intently at his wine. Magic licked across his voice, but it was benign. Citrine noticed the effect anyway, immediately curious. “Finds a hapless soul desperate for something and makes it happen. But when the terms are up and he comes for you, he steals your soul and adds it to his Wild Hunt. It’s like he’s building an army of the desperate.”
“And you made a bargain?” Citrine asked.
“Yeah.”
“We’re trying to break it,” Vahn continued when Hawke hesitated. “For seven years, Elwick has pursued him and while it seems very hopeless”—Hawke nodded at this—“I don’t think it is. There has to be a way to undo what was done. Or at least free Hawke from the terms.”
Citrine was still watching Hawke, like she was searching for what Elwick had done to him.
“It’s his voice,” Vahn explained.
“Oh!” She almost reached out before remembering herself and jerked to take her glass instead as a cover. It was too obvious. Vahn had wanted to do the same.
“Go ahead,” Hawke said, chuckling. He inclined his head, giving her access. “Vahn’s certainly already felt it up.”
Vahn snorted into his glass at the phrasing and how eagerly Citrine reached out to touch Hawke’s throat. Truth be told, Vahn wanted to do it again. The power was so great, all trapped within. Studying how it weaved itself into Hawke’s voice whenever he sung or spun a story would leave Vahn entranced for hours if he wanted to be. It was just fascinating.
“How?” Citrine asked.
“You got me,” Hawke said, more magic blooming behind his voice. Citrine’s eyes went wide as she felt his throat more delicately. “Not a magic guy.” When she let go, thinking, he drank another gulp of wine. “It’s just a spell, I suppose.”
“It’s powerful,” Citrine whispered.
“And whatever it is,” Vahn cut in before she got too lost in the possibilities, “it tethers him to Elwick. The man is more than he should be. That magic shouldn’t have been possible.” Vahn couldn’t help the shiver running down his spine. The memory of his dance with Elwick was still stark in his thoughts. A terror. A thrill. Both at the same time. “I’m convinced he’s got more power than the High Magicians. He is simply magic incarnate. It feels like he—” He bit off what else he wanted to say, seeing Citrine eye him knowingly. Ah, yes. He sounded way too excited about the whole prospect.
One would think draining himself of all magic just to stop Elwick from claiming Hawke’s soul would have tempered the fascination Vahn had felt for the magician, but no. Not at all. It merely fueled it more.
“This is normal, right?” Hawke asked Citrine teasingly. “He gets like this?”
“Oh, definitely.” Citrine giggled. “Typical Vahn. Mysterious magic afoot? You can always bet on his fascination with it.”
Heat bloomed across Vahn’s cheeks and he drank more wine. “I’m an academic at heart,” he insisted and Hawke shook his head, snickering. “Regardless, I was hoping we could find something on him in the research library here. He’s such an enigma, I can’t imagine he’s gone unnoticed by researchers up here.”
It was a sound plan, Vahn was sure, but Citrine looked uneasy.
“You’re not supposed to be back,” she reminded and he sighed. “They’ll know who you are. It’s not like you haven’t trawled through the stacks countless times before…”
“We can sneak it tomorrow night,” Vahn said. Hawke choked on his wine. “Oh, don’t give me that! I’ve sneaked into these places many times after hours. It’ll be easy.”
Citrine’s nose scrunched in amusement. “Vahn’s never liked that they close early on some days. Where there’s research to be had, wards and doors won’t stop him.”
“I should have figured,” Hawke laughed. “Seems like the type.”
Both of them together was going to be a terror. Vahn regretted introducing them. They weren’t supposed to team up this fast.
“Want to check my parents’ library too?” Citrine offered.
Vahn sat up straight. “Does the portal still work?”
“Portal?” Hawke repeated.
Citrine faced Hawke, eyes bright with an eagerness to explain. Something she and Vahn had in common and he was glad to see the spark was still there. “Vahn’s bag is a kind of portal,” she explained. She knew the spells that had gone into the bag as much as Vahn did; she’d checked over his work. Hawke nodded slowly in half-understanding. “It’s the same concept, but instead of some nebulous between space, we went grander. Next island grander. My parents have their estate on the island we’re following and we merely linked my fireplace mantel here to one in their library.”
“Wow,” Hawke said with the voice of a man who did not understand at all. The explanation had gone right over his head.
“With Space Magic, Vahn made a tunnel to their estate.” Citrine glanced around, like she wanted to find a prop to help her explain it, but there was nothing nearby. She gave up and forged on with words alone. “It’s actually a magical marvel, you see, we had to—”
“Citrine,” Vahn interrupted and she pouted, “he’s not going to understand.”
“Nope,” Hawke said and laughed. “Spare me the technical details.”
“Oh, fine.” Citrine rolled her eyes. “Regardless, all I have to do activate a glyph Vahn left on my fireplace mantel and it opens the tunnel.” She nodded to it. She never used it in the summertime, so it was pristine and freshly cleaned of ash and logs. The glyph glowed faintly across the mantel, waiting for her touch. “With the right whisper, we can summon a book. We spent a whole weekend assigning each of my parents’ books with a spelled moniker so all we’d have to do is say it and it comes.”
Hawke looked amazed, at least. He stared at the fireplace, like he was trying to think of the logistics. Space Magic was still relatively new and untested, so Vahn was glad it had worked at the time.
“How do you get the books back?” Hawke asked.
Vahn chuckled. “Just toss them back in. We can’t magic them back to the shelves. I’m sure Citrine’s parents’ maid hated us whenever we got into a research mood. She’ll find piles of books.”
“That’s amazing, though,” Hawke said, genuinely surprised. “And handy…”
“Can only work up here,” Vahn amended and Hawke frowned. “The theorems we used rely on the dormant magic within the islands themselves. Wild Magic is too erratic. The tunnel would fall apart or would go somewhere we didn’t intend.”
“Oh.” Hawke sounded disappointed as whatever plan he’d immediately thought of was dashed aside. “Well, your bag is suiting us just fine.”
“I only wish I made it larger so I could keep your lute in it,” Vahn said.
Hawke made a face. “I’d rather hold onto that, thank you very much.” It was hanging off the back of his chair and he reached around to pat it, as though to assure himself nothing would happen to it.
“Has he pulled out the tent?” Citrine asked, eyebrows high.
Snorting, Hawke nodded and grinned. “Yes! Do you know how many times he’s beaned me in the gut with the pole?”
“Hey!” Vahn bubbled out his own laugh. “You are exaggerating! It’s not been that much!”
“Nope. I’m keeping a tally. It’s a lot.”
Before Vahn could refute whatever imaginary number he’d dreamed up, Citrine was laughing. Her round cheeks red, eyes closed in delight at the absolute absurdity. Vahn couldn’t help but join her. He waved a hand at her to make her stop, but she dismissed him with her own wave. Hawke, for his part, looked proud like he’d wanted to make them both laugh.
Citrine wiped a tear from her cheek. “We had to maneuver that kit in there in my sitting room! The bag was ornery at the start, rejecting items left and right. It almost took out a window!”
Hawke was grinning as he glanced between them. “That must have been a sight.”
As Citrine eagerly told him the story, Vahn had to cover his face. Both he and Citrine had thought the magic had accepted the tent, but as soon as they stepped back and smiled, it came out like it’d ricochetted off something unseen within. It’d bounced off a window and took Vahn out at the knees. After making sure Vahn was okay, Citrine had to sit down, as she’d been laughing so hard.
Hawke was a rapt audience as she told the tale and Vahn liked watching them interact. The looks they’d been giving each other ever since they arrived were cute. Little sparks there, clearly. After the story ran its course, they began going back and forth, talking about mostly food, what Citrine had been baking when they came in, and the smaller things about their lives.
Vahn listened for a little, letting the wine sink into his thoughts. Maybe he'd sleep well tonight, after friendship and good wine. He felt at home for once since leaving.
“Oh,” Vahn said suddenly, and Citrine and Hawke looked at him, whatever they’d been discussing interrupted. “Actually, I was curious: why are there so many visitors? I swore with university on break, no one would be here.”
“Right,” Citrine said, “it’s the month they chose for the Q&A with a High Magician. They thought doing it now would be good because as you said, with the university on break, it’d be quiet. No chance. I think it’s Magdelena coming in.” She shrugged and Vahn internally took a relieved breath. “I’m being paid to make sweets this year.”
Magdelena was one of the older High Magicians. A woman of tradition, but matronly. Vahn doubted she’d given him any thought since he was originally from the World Below, but at least she was polite about her dismissal. She didn’t outright hate him, too, so that had been a plus when the decision to make Vahn a Wayfarer Magician was put forth to the council. She’d seen so many other Wayfarer Magicians in her time, she probably didn’t care about them until they returned home, a master of magic.
“I see.” Vahn put any lingering worries to rest and leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “What are you making for it?”
Hawke snorted, glancing away, and Vahn laughed weakly. It must have been what they’d been talking about just prior while Vahn got lost thinking. Citrine still smiled brightly, like she always did, and gave him a teasing look.
“My famous roseberry muffins with the vanilla icing! I have the muffins sealed up and tomorrow is another batch and then the icing.”
“Those are good,” Vahn commented. “You think me and Hawke can sneak some away for our trip back? I miss your sweets.”
“As if I wasn’t already planning to sneak sweets into your bag!” Citrine teased. She turned and pushed on Hawke’s shoulder. “Make sure he eats! He gets so distracted with research and learning and then wonders why he’s so exhausted. Honestly!”
“So I’ve seen,” Hawke said knowingly.
“Oh, shush the two of you!” Vahn waved them both off. “I just get excited!”
Their laughter faded quickly, a sleepiness growing across the room as the sky continued to darken. Citrine plopped her hands on her thighs and stood. “You are both very welcome to stay here. I’ve a guestroom upstairs!” She glanced at Hawke before turning to settle her gaze on Vahn. “Help me air it out? It’s been a minute since someone’s been by.”
Hawke began collecting their dishes. “Then let me do some dishes for you.”
Citrine faced him, quirking an eyebrow, and Vahn bit back a laugh. “Oh, are you sure?” she asked and Hawke gave her a quizzical look. “I’ll let you if you insist!”
Vahn leaned around her. “There’s a charm we use to magic them clean,” he said.
Hawke huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine… I’ll make it neat then?”
With a giggle, Citrine patted his arm. “Sure, just set it in the sink and I’ll show you how the magic works when I come back down.”
She and Vahn left him to do just that, humming as he did so, and headed up the narrow staircase. The lights along the way brightened in Citrine’s presence, soft golden hues. It was meant to mimic candlelight, and flickered the same. Citrine turned at the landing and pulled Vahn into the guest room. The room he’d stayed in when he waited to find out his destiny.
It didn’t need airing out one bit on a first glance. The bed was made, free of any dust that may have accumulated without visitors, the window was propped open to let in the breeze, and it was neat and orderly.
“Vahn!” Citrine hissed. “Who did you bring me?” She did a small pace in the room fanning herself. “My goodness!”
Vahn covered a laugh. Of course, it’d been a ruse to talk to him without Hawke listening in. Still, he went over to the already made bed to fluff a pillow. At least pretend he was preparing the room. “Do you want me to see if he’s interested and then send him your way?”
Citrine paused and thought a moment. “Since this is likely my one and only chance, yes.” She nodded excitedly. “I would appreciate it if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t have any claim to him,” Vahn pointed out. “I’ll try.”
“Truly?” Citrine gave him a hard look and Vahn shrugged his shoulders. “All right, then! I look forward to getting to know him better.”
She paused, eyeing Vahn a little longer, and then drew him into a soft hug. Not a grand display of having missed him, but something soft and quiet. Vahn preferred these hugs. He leaned into it, letting her wrap him up.
“I missed you, Vahn.”
“And I missed you.”
Everyone reconvened in the sitting room, the wine put away and replaced with an orange blossom tea. Hawke took the chance to finally show Citrine his lute (Vahn suspected he’d been dying to do so ever since she showed interest in it). Citrine was all oohs and ahhs, eyes tracking the magic across it, especially when Hawke strummed the strings. The enchantment was old, soft and malleable with time. Some of the magic in Hawke’s voice strengthened it when he played, but it was due to cease at any moment. Vahn couldn’t quite tell what the enchantment did, but he wanted to study it and perhaps do it anew. He hadn’t figured out how to ask Hawke for permission, however. He was attached to the instrument to a stubborn degree and might not trust Vahn with it.
As Hawke strummed, he regaled Citrine with all their misadventures so far. She was a rapt audience and quick to shush Vahn if he tried to insist that wasn’t how the story went. She was enamored, that was for sure, unable to do much adventuring on her own. Stuck here.
By the time the tea had done the trick, leaving them sleepy and relaxed, Vahn had taken a quick bath and retired to the guest room. He’d wanted to soak for longer, the water so much warmer and relaxing than it would ever be down below (to the point if he had no distractions, he might have been lulled to sleep), but he’d been itching to start research.
Citrine had also retired, the soft light from her room a beacon in the dark as she left her door open a crack. She always read before bed from a variety of serials she picked up every week. Vahn was glad to see that hadn’t changed.
While he was curious what hijinks her usual serials had gotten up to since he’d been gone (Citrine used to tell him all about it over breakfast and he preferred listening to her excitedly retelling the tales than reading them himself), Vahn focused on the research laid out before him. He wanted to find a direction to start. Summoning books from her parents’ libraries without aim would lead to disaster, he was sure, so he’d pulled out every single book and scroll he’d stored in his bag and got to work.
He had books laid out here and there, soft spells keeping them afloat or flat. Scrolls he’d liberated from some library or another before he’d left university were over there and noted with colored tabs. Most of them were about spells, really, but perhaps one would feel like Elwick and give him somewhere to start. Then there were the few history books he took from Citrine’s sitting room. Anything to give him an idea.
It helped that with all the books cracked open and scrolls unfurled, it smelled like magic ink and old paper. A lovely smell. One Vahn sorely missed as he settled in on the bed, cross-legged to get to work. It was just like the nights he wrote research papers. Perfect. Nothing but him and the books, every single other thought tossed away.
And then the door opened. He forgot himself and yelped, the surprise sending his magic tome to the floor with a thud. The others followed it and he winced. Hawke stopped a step inside and Vahn slapped his forehead, chastising himself. Hawke was here. This wasn’t like the old days where he could lock himself away.
“Oh.” Hawke glanced at the books and tilted his head, amused. His blonde hair was fluffy from the enchanted towels Citrine had put out. Made his hair sparkle, too, but Vahn wasn’t going to point that out. He had his shirt over one shoulder and short pants on, looking ready for sleep. He chuckled, eyeing Vahn. “Where am I going to sleep?”
Vahn gazed at it all. Where would even he sleep? He winced again. “I’m sorry, I was lost in the idea of researching again. I forgot.”
Hawke picked up Vahn’s book and immediately let go when the tome insisted on floating again. With Vahn’s renewed concentration, the others floated back up from the floor. Floating World spells were so easy. Barely any thought needed to reweave a broken incantation.
“Can’t this all wait until morning?” Hawke asked.
Vahn pouted. It could, he supposed. Yet… “I’m in the mood now,” he said. “Better to give us a direction to go tomorrow so we don’t waste time.”
“I see.” Hawke didn’t sound convinced. He was still watching Vahn, worried, and Vahn hated it.
Yes, sleeping had still been a problem for Vahn. They both knew it. They’d danced around the subject ever since Maxima’s tower. Hawke subtly tried to bring it up and Vahn brushed it off each time. Even now, Vahn wasn’t in the mood to confront the problem. Exhaustion wasn’t damning him. Not yet.
He sat up straight and pivoted to face Hawke, remembering Citrine. He smiled coyly at the bard. “Hey, you like Citrine, don’t you?”
Hawke looked scandalized that his immediate affections for her was so noticeable. Then he snickered. “Obvious, huh?” He cocked his head grinning. Wistful. “You’ve been trying to set us up most of the night, haven’t you?”
“Well, I meant to do this more subtly, but yes.” Vahn nodded. “I told Citrine that if you were interested, I’d send you her way.” He smiled up at Hawke, hoping he’d take the hint.
There was an uncertainty there, however. One Vahn hardly found in Hawke whenever thoughts of sleeping partners came up. Hawke glanced away.
“That’s sweet of you,” he said.
“But you’re resisting?”
Hawke stopped.
“Your voice does a tilt when you’re sort of lying,” Vahn supplied. “What’s wrong?”
It took a moment for Hawke to gather some words. He sat next to Vahn, narrowly missing a book he hadn’t seen. He sighed and leveled a look on Vahn.
“Don’t you like her?” he asked.
“I’m interested in men,” Vahn spelled out, chuckling. “I thought it was obvious. Citrine is merely my friend. You like women, though, right? Don’t tell me I misread that.”
Hawke snorted. “Well, no. I mean. I like most everyone. T-That’s not the problem.”
“Then go have fun.” Vahn nudged him as he turned to grab his bag again. A swift incantation under his breath brought forth a scroll. “I have a silencing bubble you can even use if you like! You will not disturb me, do not worry.” He pushed the scroll at Hawke.
“No, it’s not that. It…” Hawke trailed off, hesitant.
Vahn waited, mystified. Hawke lost the words entirely and stared at the room blankly, like he thought he’d find it amongst the floating books.
“Are you still hung up on someone, then?” Vahn asked.
“No,” Hawke said sharply. “No. Look, Citrine’s a magician. Like you.”
“Not like me,” Vahn corrected. He held out his arm, letting the bangle slip toward his forearm. He pointed at his wrist. “That band she has? It prevents her from casting any spells outside what’s utilized in baking. She literally can’t cast any spell that hasn’t been prepared beforehand for her.”
Hawke stared at Vahn’s arm, incredulous. “What?”
At least he sounded as disgusted as Vahn felt about the whole thing. “It was the agreement she had to make with the magic enforcement laws here. The bracelets would have been too much for her, but since she was given knowledge, she wasn’t allowed to stay here without some assurance her magic wouldn’t disrupt the careful magic keeping the floating island well, floating.”
Even Vahn hated it. While yes, a strong spell casted errantly without regard for how precarious the magic was keeping the islands afloat would be disastrous, Citrine hadn’t needed to be treated as such. Except everyone had already acclimated to the bracelets. A full nullification band with provisions was hardly a step up. If she hadn’t agreed to it, she would have lost all standing in the Floating World and been forced to exile herself to the World Below. While she’d wanted adventure, she didn’t want it that way, especially if it meant never returning. Her family was here, after all; she couldn’t leave them.
“But,” Vahn continued, trying to catch the real reason Hawke was being so resistant, “why would her being a magician matter?”
Because there was clearly more to it than what Hawke had said. Something specific to magicians from the Floating World and not the hedge witches from down below. Hawke had been incredibly friendly with Josie and Vahn was sure if her father hadn’t been there, Hawke would have been bolder. Clearly, there was more to this than Vahn was seeing.
He waited, unyielding, and eventually, Hawke scrubbed his hands down his face. A man about to tell him the truth. Finally.
“I told you about Trice,” he said.
“A little, yes,” Vahn said. “She was a magician special to you.”
“We split after two years together,” Hawke began, slowly, quietly like he feared speaking it too loudly, “and it was because she admitted to enchanting me for the better part of our relationship.”
“Oh,” Vahn breathed.
“Yeah.”
“Why’d she let you go?”
Hawke sighed sharply and glared at Vahn. “Seriously? I guess she got bored. I don’t know. Magicians.” He added the last word with bite, magic flaring behind the word.
The dig was sharp, but Vahn didn’t let it get to him. Vahn should have spoken with a lot more tact, but it’d simply come out. Hawke was still hurting and Vahn owed it to him not to pry with too many questions. Still, Vahn was immensely curious. He tried to squash it and focus on Hawke, not the potential of what magic Trice may have used.
“Citrine cannot cast anything of the sort,” Vahn said. “I promise. She genuinely thinks you’re a delight and wants to get to know you better before we leave.”
“Could you do that?”
The question caught Vahn off-guard and he sat there, staring at Hawke. The man looked vulnerable all of a sudden. Where he’d been defensive and sharp before, now he was soft and worried. Vahn thought to lie, just to put him at ease, but that wouldn’t have been fair.
“In theory, I could, but I am not well-versed in such enchantments. It requires constant upkeep and quite honestly, I am amazed she was able to do it longer than a day at most.”
A High Magician could do it, easily, should they need to. Trice was at most, a court magician. A single bangle that would stop the spell eventually. Besides, Hawke was stubborn. Wrapped up in Elwick’s magic. Such an enchantment shouldn’t have held. He opened his mouth to explain so, but Hawke cut him off.
“All right then,” he said. “Fine.” This time he sounded less suspicious. “Citrine can’t, then. Good to know.”
Vahn sighed and stood. He tugged Hawke with him. “Seriously, Citrine cannot and more importantly: would not. Neither would I.” He gently nudged Hawke toward the door. “Let me do my research. You go have fun. Relax. Read a book together. Tell her sweet nothings. Maybe do some late-night baking or something.”
Hawke finally smirked and nudged Vahn back. “You’re not a romantic guy, are you?”
“Not in the least,” Vahn said and laughed. “You go do whatever it is you do.”
“Well, since you’re twisting my arm…”
“I am not!”
“I’ll go see if her light’s on,” Hawke said, winking. It was. Vahn caught the way the light illuminated the hallway in a soft golden streak. Hawke grew serious again and Vahn wished the bard would just go already. Stop thinking so hard. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Vahn insisted. “Please. I’ve taken over the whole bed, so you are definitely not sharing the bed with me tonight.”
When Hawke finally gave in, he had a cute grin on his face. One Vahn hadn’t seen before. He immediately threw it from his mind, closing his door, and faced all his books and scrolls. Finally, time to return to what he was good at. Research.
He missed it more than he’d ever admit. He redressed in his sleeping clothes for comfort and settled back in to his nest of books on the bed. Ignoring everything else in the world was easy with the right tomes in front of him and questions to be answered. Nothing else matted but what he could learn.
At least, until he closed his eyes for a moment too long. Sleep had been waiting for him at the fringes of his thoughts and pulled him immediately under once it got the chance. One moment, he was chasing a thread about the original King Elwick’s progeny, and then the next, he was waking up to dawn light glittering inside.
Blearily, he glanced around, more confused than anything else, and the door opened. He looked up in time to watch Citrine flop over on a cleared spot on the bed. Someone must have done that, the same someone who’d put a blanket over him. The books and scrolls that had once been floating and organized now sat in a pile on the desk beneath the window.
“You’re awake!” Citrine said, smiling.
“It seems so.” Vahn hid his disappointment and rolled over to his back. So many hours wasted asleep. He’d learned absolutely nothing.
“Hawke tucked you in when he got up,” Citrine said. She was in a good mood, her eyes practically twinkling. “I thought it was sweet.”
Vahn chuckled. “Yes, I suppose he is.” He smiled at her. “Well? You have a good night?”
“Would you beat him up if I said no?”
“I could think of a spell to use…”
Citrine kicked her feet, excited. Definitely a good night, then. “Of course I had a good night! He is amazing. Attentive, adorable, very, very, very, good with his mouth.” Her face went red admitting so and she covered her cheeks. “And his hands!” Citrine rolled over to face him properly. All embarrassment locked away in an instant and she settled a scrutinizing eye on Vahn.
“And that begs the question: how are you not rolling around with him? Hm?” She poked his side making him laugh. “Be honest! What terrible dark secret is he hiding that you of all people passed him up entirely?”
Vahn shrugged and stared at the ceiling. She was studying him too hard to stare at her directly. “He always tells me to put pants on.” Which seemed silly now, especially after the discussion last night. What Hawke had said about Trice. The direct question he’d asked Vahn.
If only Vahn had known Trice. Maybe he could piece some of this puzzle together. Had she truly enchanted him as long as she said? Could any magician have? But if she hadn’t, then why would she say so? It was a messy way to end things. It ruined his trust in all magic and magicians.
Citrine scoffed, bringing Vahn’s attention back to her. She’d propped her head up on her hand. “Perhaps he finds you intimidating without them.”
“That’d be a first,” Vahn said, laughing.
“Well, whatever the case!” Citrine hopped up and stood. She’d already dressed for the day in comfy baking clothes; a loose shirt, wide shorts, and her usual ankle boots. “Perhaps being more direct would help. Not everyone is going to gather you up and carry you off just seeing your legs, you know!”
Vahn’s face warmed and he swatted at her. She danced away from him, laughing. “Citrine, please! I don’t think it’s quite like that.”
“Says you!” Citrine caught his arm and she pulled him off the bed. “Come on, get dressed. He’s making us breakfast. Isn’t that sweet of him?”
Vahn failed to hide his smile. “It is, actually,” he said softly, remembering all the breakfasts Hawke insisted on cooking for him. All the dinners.
“Mhm.” Citrine laced her arm with Vahn’s. “You know, I think you’re sweet on him.”
“Oh, come on. I’m very focused on magic.”
She tugged him toward the door, not believing that for a second. Vahn wasn’t sure he did either. “If you insist. Let’s eat before you return to the books. Since you’re here, I’ve got to make sure you don’t waste away under my care!”
“Yes, yes, I suppose. Hey!” Vahn almost lost his footing as Citrine beelined them both for the door. He caught the doorframe and kept her from dragging him out into the hallway. “Citrine, wait! I don’t have pants on!”
“I know! I want to see how red his face is gonna get!”
🙡🙢
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