The Sorcerer’s Guardian

by Antonia Aquilante

  He maneuvered Savarin into the sleep pants as carefully as possible and then wiped his face and chest with the damp towel before patting him dry. Savarin still hadn’t moved, but perhaps he was only sleeping—Savarin had to only be sleeping. Loriot set the towels aside and tugged the bedclothes out from under Savarin. It wasn’t cold in the bedchamber, but he didn’t want Savarin to catch a chill anyway. He pulled the sheet up over Savarin’s chest, tucking him in almost as he would Alain. He stopped to study Savarin. Lines of exhaustion were etched into his face even after so much sleep, even while he rested now.

  Loriot sighed and brushed Savarin’s hair, always surprising in its silkiness, off his forehead. He quickly kissed the skin he’d exposed. After he straightened, he gathered the towels and stepped away from the bed. Savarin’s low, rasping voice stopped him from going more than the one step. Relief made his knees weak for a moment.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it.” He couldn’t leave Savarin, not without anyone to look after him, and there wasn’t anyone in this big, empty house he trusted to do so. He probably couldn’t have left Savarin even if there was. “Did you want me to go?”

  The response was slow in coming, and Loriot wondered if Savarin had fallen asleep again. “No, I don’t want you to go, but I thought you’d have to.”

  He gave in to temptation and laid a hand over Savarin’s cheek, putting all the tenderness he felt into the gesture. “I don’t have anywhere to be but here.”

  And wouldn’t if he had any say in the matter. If the palace or his family needed him, they’d know where to find him.

  “All right.”

  “I’m going to put the towels in the bathing room, and then I’ll be back.”

  Savarin nodded. Loriot waited a moment, but Savarin didn’t say anything or open his eyes, so Loriot went to the bathing room and left the towels there before returning to the bedchamber. He went to the comfortable-looking chair near the fireplace. It was too far from the bed for his peace of mind. Taking hold of the heavy chair, he prepared to drag it closer. Once again Savarin’s voice stopped him.

  “Lie down with me?”

  Loriot froze. “Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “You won’t. I’m going to sleep whether I want to or not, but I’d like you here.”

  He’d like to be there too. These last six days had scared him almost more than he wanted to admit. “All right, if that’s what you want.”

  He stripped down to his underclothes and climbed into the bed beside Savarin. Brushing a light kiss over Savarin’s lips, he rested his head on the pillow next to Savarin’s. The corners of Savarin’s mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Loriot watched Savarin as his breathing evened out again and he slid back into sleep. Watched him breathe and took his hand, as he had while he’d sat vigil at Savarin’s bedside last night. His eyes grew heavy, but he fought to stay awake, not wanting to look away. But soon even his anxiety couldn’t compete with several nights of broken or no sleep at all, and with Savarin at his side, Loriot let sleep take him as well.

  Chapter 26

  THE ROOM was dark when Loriot opened his eyes again. Enough moonlight filtered through the windows for him to see Savarin beside him, still sleeping. Fear rippled through him, but Jadis had said Savarin still needed rest, and Savarin had clearly been exhausted by just the short trip from the palace to the house. Of course he would sleep more.

  No need to worry.

  Not yet anyway.

  Loriot eased himself from the bed, not that he likely had to be cautious. Savarin was a heavy sleeper normally from what Loriot had seen, and his level of exhaustion wouldn’t make him less so. Still he was careful to be quiet as he dressed and left the bedchamber, closing the door behind him with a barely audible click.

  The corridor outside the bedchamber was lit by magic light globes set in silver sconces at intervals along the walls. They gave off a low glow that was enough for him to see by as he made his way down the hallway. He needed paper and ink, and he needed to find a servant. Savarin’s house was impeccably maintained, his servants well-trained. Someone should be around in case Savarin needed anything, even if he did keep to himself.

  Loriot came across no one in the upstairs corridor but found a maid as soon as he descended the stairs into the entrance hall. She bobbed a curtsy and hurried away to carry out his orders for a light meal to be prepared and another servant to be sent to him. Loriot wandered until he found a small sitting room with paper and pen and ink in a writing desk against the wall, obviously not a desk Savarin used for any purpose except perhaps the one Loriot was putting it to, as it held nothing more than the blank paper and ink and sealing wax.

  He scribbled a note to Joceline explaining where he was so she wouldn’t worry and so she’d know where to find him. A young man in the uniform of Savarin’s household arrived as he finished, and he sealed the note and gave it to the young man, instructing him to take it to Loriot’s house. After the servant left, Loriot used his mirror to check in with Ruban and was relieved to find that all was quiet at the palace. Not that he’d truly expected danger or disaster to befall the palace and the royal family within that night, but that didn’t mean something wouldn’t happen.

  When he finished his conversation, he made his way back to Savarin’s bedchamber. He hesitated outside the door. His plan had been to wake Savarin and have him eat something. He hadn’t eaten since before the spell, before he’d been unconscious for days. Jadis hadn’t said anything, but it couldn’t be good for Savarin to go so long without eating.

  Loriot pushed open the door, careful to be quiet. He’d just check on Savarin, then decide. But when he crept around the door, Savarin was awake and staring at him from his bed. “I thought you’d left.”

  He walked into the bedchamber and closed the door behind him. “I said I’d stay.”

  Savarin was quiet, but he looked vulnerable in the large bed, the moonlight leaching the color from his skin. He shouldn’t; Savarin should never look so unsure. Loriot wanted to go to Savarin, to reassure him, but he didn’t know if Savarin would want that. Perhaps he’d prefer if Loriot acted as if everything was fine. But something about doing that made Loriot feel wrong.

  A soft rap on the bedchamber door saved him from having to make the decision. He opened the door to find the same maid with a large tray. Thanking her, he took the tray, knowing Savarin wouldn’t want his servants to see him so weak. He stepped back into the room and nudged the door shut with his hip. When he turned back to the bed, Savarin had pushed himself up farther on the pillows and masked some of the vulnerability Loriot had seen. Perhaps he’d never meant for Loriot to see it in the first place.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Savarin’s gaze tracked him as he came toward the bed. “Some. Yes. Now that I think of it.”

  “Well there’s soup here, which shouldn’t be too hard on you, and some bread. Both smell delicious.” He set the tray on the bedside table. “Let me get some more light in here first.”

  “I can—”

  “No, you can’t. Don’t even think of it. Not until you’re stronger.” Savarin shouldn’t be trying any magic, even something so simple—for someone like Savarin anyway—as lighting a candle.

  Savarin bristled and glared. “I’m not weak.”

  “No, but you’re not back to full strength yet, and I don’t want you setting yourself back.” Loriot went around the room lighting candles the mundane way, skin prickling under Savarin’s gaze. Any other time, a stare so intense might have had him tumbling Savarin back into bed for something far more enjoyable than sleep.

  He returned to Savarin’s side and handed him a bowl of the hearty vegetable soup and a spoon. When Savarin said nothing, just continued to watch him, he took the other bowl for himself and sat at the foot of the bed. He tucked into the food, realizing how hungry he was at the first spoonful. Lunch had been long hours ago, and it
hadn’t been much to begin with. He hadn’t eaten well all week, too worried about Savarin to be hungry. But now that Savarin seemed to be recovering, his appetite came roaring back, his stomach reminding him he’d eaten far too little to keep himself going. He focused on his food, and Savarin finally began eating as well.

  “This is as delicious as it smelled,” Loriot said after he’d taken the edge off his hunger.

  Savarin startled slightly when Loriot broke the silence. It was on the tip of Loriot’s tongue to apologize, but Savarin spoke first. “Yes. The cook is very good.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine you’d hire anyone who wasn’t.” He said it with a teasing tone to his voice, but he was nothing but serious. Savarin expected the very best—the best quality, the most skilled. Loriot didn’t know if it was because his upbringing hadn’t given him those comforts or because of his exacting personality, but either way the result was the same.

  “Of course not.” The words were matter of fact, but Loriot thought he could see a hint of a smile lurking somewhere on Savarin’s lips. Loriot bit back a smile of his own and continued eating.

  He finished eating before Savarin did but stayed where he was, watching Savarin take spoonfuls of soup and bites of bread. After a few more moments, Savarin let the spoon rest in the bowl and sank back into his pillows. There was still a little soup left in the bowl, but Savarin had eaten most of it, and Loriot didn’t want to push.

  Loriot stood and took Savarin’s bowl. He placed both back on the tray and spent a moment tidying everything. Then he carried the tray out into the corridor, leaving it on a small, ornate table against the wall near the bedchamber door. When he came back into the room, Savarin was watching him through half-lidded eyes. Savarin had been watching him as he cleared away their meal too, though Loriot hadn’t acknowledged the stare.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Right this second, or in general?”

  Savarin’s eyes narrowed, but his annoyed expression didn’t have as much force when he was so exhausted. “You know what I mean.”

  He smiled and sat on the bed at Savarin’s side. “I do. I’m taking care of you.”

  “Why?”

  “You seem to need it right now, and there’s no one else to do it. I didn’t send word of what happened to your parents. I assumed you wouldn’t want me to.” He hoped he’d done right.

  “No, that’s good. I wouldn’t want them worried or wondering what they should do, what they could do.”

  Loriot nodded. From everything he’d heard, Savarin’s parents would have felt helpless in the face of Savarin’s injury, more helpless even than Loriot had, because Savarin’s parents wouldn’t have been comfortable coming up to the palace—or even to Savarin’s house—to be at their son’s bedside.

  “Well, then, you need someone to take care of you.” And not just that day. Savarin could use some care on a regular basis despite his almost frightening competence.

  “You don’t have to. It isn’t your job to wait on me.”

  “I wasn’t talking about waiting on you. I’m talking about helping you until you’re feeling yourself again.” And showing him some care for long after that if Loriot had his way, but he wasn’t about to say that. “I want to do it, Savarin. Just as I wanted to sit with you until you woke.”

  Savarin was quiet for a moment. “Were you there the whole time?”

  “Not the whole time. I would have been if I could have, but I couldn’t abandon my duties or Alain entirely.” Even though he’d wanted to. Even though he’d been tempted to.

  “I would never expect you to.”

  “I know, but just because I couldn’t doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

  “You can’t now either.”

  Was Savarin trying to push him out? If so, he’d have to tell Loriot to leave directly. “No, but unless there’s an emergency, I won’t be expected at the palace, and they don’t expect me at home either.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like abandoning your responsibilities.”

  “Not at all. Both the palace and my family know where to find me if I’m needed. What it means is that you are important too. Important to me. And I want to be here, taking care of you, as much as I’m able.” Savarin was silent for so long after Loriot stopped speaking that he wondered if he’d said something wrong or if Savarin really did want him to go. “Savarin, do you want me to leave?”

  Savarin seemed almost to shake himself. “What? No, I don’t want you to leave, but I know you have responsibilities. You can’t sit here with me.”

  “I can tonight. I’ll have to go to the palace in the morning, at least for a while, but tonight I’m here with you. I want to be here with you.” He wondered about this strange vulnerability Savarin displayed. Loriot was used to arrogance and confidence from Savarin, not insecurity and a sense that Savarin wasn’t worthy of Loriot’s time. Was it just because of Savarin’s unusual exhaustion or was there something more?

  “All right. If you can, stay.” The words seemed dragged out of Savarin, but the sentiment also seemed sincere.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, feeling unaccountably tentative himself. As much as he wanted to help Savarin, as much as it would hurt to be sent away, he didn’t want to impose himself on Savarin.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m sure. I’d like you to stay.”

  He watched Savarin for a moment, then nodded. “Good.” He leaned forward and kissed Savarin, a light, chaste kiss. “You should sleep some more. It’s late, and you’re still tired.”

  “I’ve slept for the better part of a week.” The grumble was almost adorable. “I don’t want to sleep any more.”

  He refrained from pointing out that Savarin needed sleep whether he wanted it or not. And he doubted Savarin would be able to fight that need for long either. “Well what would you like to do, then? Talk? Read?”

  Without a word, Savarin reached for him, tugging him close and kissing him. Savarin’s kiss was far less chaste than Loriot’s had been, but still not as forceful as Savarin’s kisses usually were. Still Savarin was kissing him, and it was easy to get a little lost in his kisses. But when Savarin wrapped his arms around Loriot and pulled him down to the bed, Loriot snapped back to reality. Savarin’s grip on him was far less strong than it usually was, and Loriot pulled away enough to see Savarin.

  “This isn’t something we should be doing.”

  “Why not? Don’t you want to?” Savarin asked, panting for breath.

  “Of course I want to, but you’re not up to it.”

  “I have to disagree with that.” Savarin pressed his body to Loriot’s and even through the clothing and blankets that separated them, he could feel Savarin’s arousal.

  “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.” Though he was somewhat surprised by Savarin’s ability to become so aroused while so exhausted. He tried to look stern, but he doubted he managed it. Knew he hadn’t when Savarin’s lips quirked up slightly.

  Savarin bridged the space between them again and kissed him, and Loriot realized Savarin wasn’t about to be put off. And he didn’t want to put him off, not really. For days, he’d been scared he would lose Savarin, that Savarin would never wake up and look at him again with those sharp gray eyes, and he wanted more than anything to push Savarin down into the mattress and prove that he was still here with Loriot. But he also knew Savarin was still weak; the kind of night Loriot longed for—and it seemed Savarin did as well—wasn’t possible, not until Savarin recovered.

  And still he couldn’t put a stop to this.

  Instead he took control. He rolled Savarin onto his back, more easily than he might have been able to had Savarin been his usual self and more inclined to challenge Loriot. Savarin made a noise that sounded like surprise but was muffled in their kiss. Loriot took his lips from Savarin’s long enough to hush him. “Let me take care of you.”

  “Loriot—”

  “Let me.” He didn’t wait for a response, just kissed Savarin again until the man was breathless and u
nlikely to argue further. Then he set about caressing and kissing every inch of Savarin’s skin that he could reach. He tried to make every touch, every brush of lips, full of tenderness, of the care he wanted to show Savarin. As Savarin writhed beneath him, Loriot took his time, kissing his way over Savarin’s neck, tracing his collarbone with his tongue, moving his hands in long passes over Savarin’s chest and flanks.

  He continued his meandering trail of kisses over Savarin’s chest, his flat stomach. He let his hands follow in the wake of his wandering lips, drawing patterns with his fingers on Savarin’s skin, skin so soft it still constantly surprised him. He filled his hands with it, filled his senses with the feel and scent and taste of Savarin and reassured himself that Savarin was alive and with him.

  “Loriot.” His name was a harsh whisper but not the weak one Loriot had heard from Savarin earlier. This one was ragged from passion and very much a demand.

  But Loriot only chuckled and continued his leisurely exploration. It was better this way, better for Savarin, better for him. Savarin needed coddling, and Loriot needed to savor. He delighted in Savarin’s gasps and moans, and let them drive him as he finally lowered the blankets and loosened Savarin’s sleep pants, drawing them down over Savarin’s hips. Savarin muttered something that sounded a bit like “finally,” and Loriot chuckled again.

  Savarin glared down at him and seemed to be gathering his breath to scold Loriot, but he preempted him by taking Savarin’s hard member into his mouth. Whatever Savarin had been about to call him turned into a long, low moan. Loriot shivered hearing it, but he didn’t let himself get distracted—tonight was about Savarin.