by A. F. Dery
“I don’t know why I ever thought him helping you would be a good idea,” Grace muttered. “How am I going to keep the two of you from coming to blows the minute he comes up here? Hadrian, I have talked with Rupert, and he does have doubts about you, but I’m doing my best to be fair, to both of you.”
Hadrian considered that a moment, and found he couldn’t find fault with it. “I know you have. You’ve been nothing if not fair, particularly given the things you’ve been told. May I tell you one more thing to think on, before I leave you in peace?”
Her hesitation was nearly palpable, but finally she said, “All right. What is it?”
He went to her as quickly as he dared, and held out both hands, palms up, as soon as he thought he may have come close to her. There was a heart stopping moment where she did nothing; then, almost gingerly, she laid her hands on his. The touch of her skin against his sent a strange feeling of euphoria through him. Before she had time to react, he slid his hands up her arms to her elbows as he stepped forward, then let go of one of them and found her face with his free hand. Clumsily his fingertips found her lips and traced their outline, finding them moist and parted as if in surprise. He bent his face towards her, very carefully, fearful of misjudging the distance and knocking into her yet wary of moving too slowly and causing her to shy away from him, and moving his fingers to her cheek, kissed her where they had just been, very softly, very tenderly, as if he were trying to kiss a spirit rather than a woman and feared she would break apart at the contact. Part of him did fear it, feared that she would dissipate at once like some dream. As soon as his lips touched hers, he moved slightly away, and just as softly and swiftly he then brushed a kiss onto each of her cheeks, to her nose, to her chin, and then again to her lips, which had remained silent after all. Here he lingered just a moment longer than before, willing her to somehow understand what it meant, how very precious she was to him, whatever happened, whatever the wolf had told her.
He then pulled away, not quite able to stop himself from touching her satiny hair briefly before returning his hand to her arm as the other one was. Then he again moved both of his hands to hers, pressing their palms together. It felt like she was shivering, and it took all his willpower not to put his arms around her.
“My words have been failing me lately, but I hope you understand me a little better. You said you would think on it, and you will, right?” He felt as though he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
She said nothing at first, but then, “y-yes, I…I said I would…” She sounded as breathless as he felt, and he wasn’t sure whether it was a good sign.
“Rest well then, Grace,” he said quickly before she could change her mind. Impulsively, he bent forward just long enough to brush his lips against what he hoped was her forehead, then he released her arms and left the room on suddenly unsteady legs. He made it to the work room and sat down right on the floor.
He felt both ready to collapse, and like he could fly.
The following day, Rupert made his way upstairs, still tired but unable to sleep any longer. He felt both anxious to see Grace and concerned about his ability to suppress his dislike of the Murderer- Hadrian, he reminded himself firmly as he clenched his teeth- well enough to keep her safe.
He thought it might help if he could temporarily block from his mind the fact that the man had killed his brother, along with hundreds of other innocent people. The very idea, under any other circumstance, would have been unthinkable to him, but for Grace…well, for Grace. That was all there was to that.
His magic felt like it was at a reassuringly low ebb for the time being, as best as he could judge these things: the transformations took their toll in every possible way. He just had to be calm. He chanted the words to himself as he ascended the stairs: be calm, be calm, be calm.
Grace was just leaving her bedroom as he reached the top of the stairs. He was momentarily enchanted by her hair, which she had plaited into a long braid that fell over her shoulder. She smiled when she saw him and at once he felt his anxiety evaporate.
“Good morning! At least, I think it’s morning,” Grace said, a little sheepishly. “You look a lot better today.”
“I feel better. I’m ready to work with…with Hadrian,” he got out the words somehow and forced the approximation of a smile on his own face.
Grace’s smile faltered. “I’m still not sure that’s a very good idea, Rupert, but…we can try…if you’re sure this is what you want-”
“I’m sure, Grace. I’ll be fine. Hadrian and I are two grown men, we can deal with each other,” Rupert told her with a confidence he felt absolutely none of. Even the man’s name was enough to make him want to bare his teeth in a very unpleasant manner. He resisted the impulse to touch the corners of his mouth to make sure they were appropriately curved upwards.
“All right then,” she said uncertainly. “Let’s go see if he’s awake yet.”
The door to the work room was standing half open, so they went right in. Hadrian was indeed awake, and sometime since his last appearance in the kitchen, he had shaved off his beard.
“H-hadrian,” Grace stammered, her gray eyes very wide. “You…your beard!”
Rupert frowned at her reaction and looked back at the other man, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny. The mur- Hadrian did look very different clean shaven than he had bearded. The beard had been honestly awful, even the wolf had thought so. By all appearances he had just hacked at it randomly to keep it trimmed when it got in his way. Without it, he looked cleaner and much younger. Rupert had seen him before without it, of course, but Grace hadn’t. That had to be why she sounded so shocked.
It certainly couldn’t have anything to do with the other man’s appearance. He wasn’t ugly, certainly, even Rupert could see that, but Grace could do much better. The look of wonder on her face as she looked at the other man turned his stomach. It wasn’t that amazing a change, nothing like a wolf turning into a man and vice versa, for example.
“Lucky thing he didn’t cut himself bloody,” Rupert muttered.
“I think I did, once or twice, but nothing serious,” Hadrian answered clearly, as if the words had been directed to him.
“You look…good, er, well, I mean, you look very well…well not very but…good, you know?” Grace stuttered, turning a deep shade of red. She cleared her throat a little and looked down at her hands.
Rupert saw Hadrian’s face reddening a little as well and he scowled.
“Got tired of hair in your food, did you,” Rupert asked, struggling to keep his voice light.
“It just seemed like time,” Hadrian answered with a slight shrug, his voice perfectly neutral. “It’s been a while.”
Grace said nothing. She was still staring at Hadrian as if transfixed. Rupert bumped her arm irritably as he passed her to stand by the work table.
“Supposedly you’re looking for a cure. Did you mean today?” he asked gruffly.
Hadrian joined him at the table and Grace, finally seeming to shake herself free from whatever trance she had been in, looked back and forth between them apprehensively, all but wringing her hands.
“We’re fine, Grace. Why don’t you sit down?” Rupert suggested, forcing another smile. He must have gotten it wrong somehow, because she went a little pale, but she nodded and sat on the floor by the fire. Ironically it was in about the same place where he’d laid as a wolf while she and Hadrian had worked. He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering whether she had noticed this, but she caught his look and laughed.
“I can nap now, right?” she asked teasingly.
“I didn’t nap…all that often,” he protested, but his smile this time was genuine. “It’s the fire, you know. You’ll be asleep before you know it.”
“Didn’t we want to start today?” Hadrian asked, a little curtly. “I’ll need the elm root.”
Rupert found it for him without any trouble. He felt Grace’s eyes on him and the attention pleased him. Maybe she only watched him because she feared he’d
lose his temper, but at least she was watching him.
They continued on for most of the morning in tense silence. Hadrian would ask for something to be retrieved or something to be done- an herb cut a certain way, for example- and Rupert would do it, with an acknowledging grunt if he felt the need to acknowledge him at all. It quickly became even more apparent from this new perspective that Hadrian was nowhere near a cure, if he was in fact actually looking for one. All the herbs he was using were medicinal, it was true, and they made sense based on the symptoms Rupert recalled the plague having, but with the illness having a magical component, the herbs on their own were useless. He paged lightly through some of the last journal Hadrian had kept about his “research” while Hadrian was preoccupied with boiling some mixture, but he saw nothing incriminating; what he made out from the scrawled notes looked like a man going in circles. He had clearly run out of ideas some time before he’d lost his eyesight, in Rupert’s estimation. Now he was just going over them all again. It baffled him that Hadrian seriously thought the minor tweaks he was attempting would make any significant difference, but it was hard to deny the signs of desperation when he saw them.
Maybe he really does want to find a cure, but that doesn’t mean that’s what he was doing here the whole time, or that it’s from some altruistic motive, Rupert thought begrudgingly, watching the other man from the corner of his eye while he worked.
Finally he said, “Why aren’t you trying any magic? You must know a cure wouldn’t consist of herbs alone, or you would have already found it.”
Hadrian paused. “I used all the magic I could think of before I lost my sight,” he said coolly. “I have to think that the correct ratio of herbs must have affected it somehow, so that is what I am working on before trying it again. Different ratios.”
“I really doubt that the subtle changes you are making would have any…significant effect. Perhaps if you tell me what magic you tried…I can figure out something you didn’t try,” Rupert suggested, trying to keep his voice pleasant. Inside he really wanted to grab the blind man by the neck and shake him like a rag doll.
“I studied this field of magic for many years before coming to my present circumstances. I can assure you that even minor variations can and do have an effect once magical energy is applied,” Hadrian said with a small, tight smile. “There is plenty of time to incorporate the magical element of the research, we’re all here until spring after all.”
Rupert’s eyes narrowed. Be calm, be calm, be calm, he told himself. He took a deep breath and looked away from Hadrian’s work. Grace was watching him from where she sat by the fire, visibly tense, her eyes worried. He gave his head a slight shake, and took another deep breath.
“No offense, Hadrian,” he said in a careful monotone, “but you’ve been doing things your way for many years before we’ve come to your present circumstances…and gotten nowhere with it. Perhaps it is time to try something else.” There was so much tension in his jaw that it ached.
Hadrian stood very still, staring blankly down at the table. “Something else is not likely to work, Rupert. Only the kind of magic used to make the plague can be used to reverse it. Perhaps if you had received instruction, you would know such a basic fact. As it is, I have specialized in this field. What have you studied, Rupert?”
Becalmbecalmbecalm- His fingernails dug painfully into his palms and he realized his hands were clenched into fists.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Grace suggested quickly, rising to her feet.
“As you may have forgotten, Hadrian, perhaps due to premature senility,” Rupert said through gritted teeth, “I have indeed ‘received instruction’ and I am aware of the fact that you mention. I am also aware that when one thing isn’t working, doing it over and over again… expecting some miraculous breakthrough upon repetition…is futile bordering on the idiotic. Perhaps you just screwed up so badly that you ended up using different magic than what you thought you did. Unless you didn’t actually screw up at all, of course, and meant for what happened to happen, in which case, never mind.”
“Oh dear, I think it’s time for the midday meal! Rupert, why don’t we-”
“Oh, I screwed up, but not that badly,” Hadrian said coldly. “Like most mages, I have been in complete control of my magic since I became a man. Now that I think of it, perhaps there is hope for you yet with time, Rupert.”
A snarl escaped his lips before he could stop it. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to stand very still. Becalmbecalm…don’t think about ripping his throat out, don’t think about…
“That’s enough, Hadrian! Good gods, what are you thinking?” he heard Grace cry. “The whole point of Rupert helping is because he can give you new ideas and I can’t! And you know he has to stay calm. For someone who claims to be a man, you’re certainly acting like a child.”
Rupert felt her hand on his arm a moment later, but he didn’t dare open his eyes yet. He wasn’t sure if it could be seen on the outside, but on the inside, he was shaking like a leaf. He wasn’t sure if he could sense his magic or not, and he feared trying, lest he provoke it without meaning to.
She rubbed his arm tentatively. “It’s all right, Rupert…try to think about something else, something that doesn’t make you angry.”
“You should go, Grace, in case he loses control,” Hadrian said quietly. “I can handle it if he does, but you can’t.”
“He’s not going to lose control,” Grace said tartly. “But maybe you should have thought of that before you started insulting him. Or did you think I’d be too dumb to pick up on that, given my lack of instruction?”
“Grace, I’ve never thought-” Hadrian protested, sounding genuinely taken aback.
“Apparently not,” she snapped.
“You sound like my sister.”
“Well, it’s good to know that someone in your family has some sense, then.”
Against his will, Rupert smiled, feeling the anger ebb away. He opened his eyes and saw Grace glaring darkly at Hadrian, who was still looking down at the table, now with a rather abashed look on his face.
He pried his fingers open, wincing a little. He’d broken the skin. Grace looked back at him and saw him looking at his hands.
“Oh,” she sighed. “Let me get something-”
“No, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s fine.” His voice was completely steady now with no effort at all.
Grace gave him an appraising look, then she smiled a little. “You’re doing better already, Rupert. You really are.”
“More scratches behind my ears would motivate me…to still greater improvement,” he said, returning her smile.
She laughed again, and from the corner of his eye he saw Hadrian scowl at the table, which only widened his own grin. “I’ll have to remember that the next time you’re furry. It really is time to eat again, though. I think you should come down with me.” She shot a meaningful look at Hadrian, whom she was evidently now viewing as “the troublemaker.”
That suited Rupert just fine. “Of course,” he agreed, but Hadrian immediately raised his head.
“I’ll come too,” he said. “And you have my word I’ll behave myself. I…apologize for my earlier…tone, Rupert. I’m not used to having my work questioned…but Grace is correct, and to a certain extent, so were you.” The words seemed to come with great difficulty, but he swallowed audibly and added, “We will try…something new…after we’ve eaten.”
Rupert studied him, looking for any signs of insincerity, but saw nothing.
He didn’t like the idea of the blind man coming along, but there was no way to say that now that he’d apologized like that. Not without looking petty himself. He fought back a scowl.
“Let’s just move on, and keep trying,” he said roughly.
Grace beamed at both of them. “I know this is hard, but it will get easier. This is a great thing the two of you are trying to accomplish.”
Rupert tried to smile, but with Hadrian included in her approval, it was
far more of a challenge than it had been a moment ago. Hadrian just nodded in her direction, still looking remorseful.
The three of them went out to the stairway in silence.
“Would you mind…?” Hadrian asked quietly, holding out a hand.
Grace raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she took his hand and put it in the crook of her arm without a word.
Rupert felt a surge of annoyance. Not once since their arrival had he ever seen Hadrian need help getting downstairs or anywhere else. Even when he’d led the blind man down the stairs himself that one time, there hadn’t been so much as a hesitation to suggest that he’d actually needed the assistance.
Once on the stairs, it seemed to him that Hadrian walked nearer to Grace than he really had to and certainly far nearer than he had to Rupert in the same situation, pressing her arm against himself instead of just holding onto it. Grace gave no visible reaction, but Rupert ground his teeth, fully prepared to break Hadrian’s neck right there on the stairway if he had any mysterious “stumbling” that required him to have any more contact with Grace.
Fortunately for Hadrian, they made it into the kitchen without incident, but Rupert’s simmering resentment was in near danger of boiling over when the blind man continued holding onto Grace when they were inside the room.
“Are you feeling all right, Hadrian?” he asked stiffly. “You don’t normally need so much help. Not just the stairway either, but even to find the kitchen. Perhaps you should go lie down awhile. We’ll bring you something to eat later.”
“No need,” Hadrian answered, his tone all meekness. “I’m just a bit tired. Food is certain to restore me.”
Grace bit her lip, looking uneasy, but turned to the stew pot suspended over the fire.
“Then you won’t need Grace’s help going back upstairs, I presume,” Rupert stated.