The Sorcerer’s Guardian

by Antonia Aquilante

  He doubted Loriot had told them everything, certainly not the purpose of the spell, but Loriot would have had to tell them something for them to understand Loriot’s absence from home. “Yes, thank you, I’m getting stronger. I’ll have Loriot home to you soon.”

  She waved his statement away. “Don’t worry on our account. We understand why Loriot needs to be here. Don’t we, sweetheart?”

  Alain nodded vigorously. “Yes. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thank you, Alain.”

  “I brought my new horse to show you.” Alain pulled the little figure out of his pocket and proudly showed it to Savarin, who knew enough about children to exclaim over it and listen as Alain described it and how he played with it in great detail. Alain told a rambling story of imaginative games of pretend with some demonstrations. He had to have inherited his imagination from his aunt, whose stories had the same flair, or perhaps she’d just told him many stories in his short life.

  “Papa says you can’t do magic for me today because you aren’t feeling good.” Alain’s statement came out of nowhere and hit Savarin like a blow, stealing his breath. Alain looked at him with big inquiring eyes the exact shade of green as his father’s, and Savarin wished he could do magic for Alain today.

  “Alain!” Joceline’s exclamation was certainly meant to quell the child, but Alain only turned those eyes on her.

  “That’s what Papa said.”

  “And your papa told you not to ask Master Savarin to show you any magic today.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Savarin almost laughed at the exchange, but he held back for Joceline’s sake. “No, I can’t show you any magic today. I’m afraid I’m not up to it just yet.”

  He only hoped he might be up to it again soon.

  “You’ll feel better soon.” Alain wrapped little arms around him in a quick hug that was over before Savarin could get over his shock. “Papa says so.”

  The shock didn’t let up. “I—yes. Thank you, Alain.”

  “Will you read to me instead? I liked it when you read me a story last time.” Alain bounced again, and Savarin put a hand to his waist to keep him from bouncing off his lap. He doubted the tumble onto the soft velvet couch cushions or the thick carpet would hurt the sturdy boy, but he didn’t want him to fall anyway.

  “I would be happy to read to you, but I don’t think I have any books here that you would like very much.” No children’s stories at all. His nieces and nephews never visited so he had no need for such books in his house.

  “I brought my book. Aunt Joceline, may I please have my book?”

  Her laugh was a nervous titter, but she drew a book out of her bag and handed it to Alain with a furtive glance at Savarin. “I wondered why you wanted it. You shouldn’t bother Master Savarin to read to you.”

  Once he had the book in his little hands, Alain looked back at Savarin. “Please read to me?”

  Something shifted inside Savarin. How could he refuse anything Alain wanted when he turned those eyes on Savarin? “Of course I will.”

  He took the book from Alain as the boy turned and snuggled back against Savarin’s chest. That something he felt seemed to warm and spread, but Savarin couldn’t think of what it was now. Turning to the place Alain indicated, Savarin began to read.

  Chapter 28

  A SOFT knock on the door roused Savarin with a jerk some time later, and he realized he’d fallen asleep. Alain’s weight on his chest was somehow heavier, and a glance down showed him that the child was sleeping.

  “He fell asleep a little before you did,” Joceline whispered, drawing his attention to where she sat with a notebook and pen balanced on her knee.

  “I apologize. Have we been asleep long?”

  “Not long. But I thought it best to leave you both. Loriot says you’re still recovering, and the nap certainly wouldn’t do Alain any harm. I apologize if I did wrong.”

  “Not at all.”

  A repeat of the quiet knock came before he could say more. He put a hand to Alain’s back, loathe to wake him by calling out. “Would you mind going to the door?”

  “Of course not.” When Joceline opened the door and stepped aside, the same maid who had shown Joceline and Alain upstairs stood in the doorway. Her eyes went wide.

  “Yes?”

  “Sir, Their Highnesses, Prince Philip and Prince Amory, are here.” It was a shocked whisper.

  Savarin was shocked himself. He’d never expected the princes to come to his home unannounced. When they’d needed him in the past, they’d always summoned him to the palace. “Make them comfortable in the parlor and bring them food and drink. I’ll be down directly.”

  “Yes, sir.” The maid bobbed a quick curtsy and departed.

  “We should go,” Joceline said. “I would have come at a different time if I knew you were expecting such company. I apologize.”

  “Don’t apologize. I wasn’t expecting the princes.”

  “My papa protects the princes.” Alain’s sleepy voice was muffled, his face still buried in Savarin’s chest.

  “Yes he does, sweetheart, but now we need to go home so Master Savarin can talk with the princes. They’ve come to visit him too,” Joceline said as she retrieved Alain’s toy and book and her notebook, stuffing them in her bag.

  “I’ve never met them. Have you met them?” Alain ignored his aunt’s efforts to hurry him out, or perhaps he didn’t notice them, and turned an inquiring gaze on Savarin.

  “I have. I’ve done work for the princes.”

  “Aunt Joceline, have you met them?” Alain continued almost before Joceline answered in the negative. “I’d like to meet them. They have a son, but he’s younger than me, but I’d like to meet him too.”

  Savarin concentrated to keep up with the flood of words in Alain’s piping voice. “Well,” he said when Alain paused for breath, “I doubt they’ll have Prince Julien with them, but why don’t you come with me and you can meet them before you go home?”

  “I can?” Alain jumped off Savarin’s lap and bounced on his toes in front of him. Savarin laughed, but Joceline shook her head.

  “Oh, Master Savarin, we couldn’t.”

  He waved away her protest as he stood and began to straighten his clothing and hair as best he could. “Nonsense. There’s no harm in it. Really.”

  There would be no fixing his appearance to his usual standard, not if he didn’t want to keep the princes waiting for far longer than was polite. He could only be grateful he’d dressed better today. He took Alain by the hand, mostly to keep him from dancing away in his enthusiasm, and led him and Joceline from the room. Savarin wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone, adult or child, so excited to meet the princes. Perhaps Loriot had told Alain stories of them, fueling his desire to see them. Or perhaps it was the idea that they had a child, even if Prince Julien wasn’t quite two and Alain was a few years older.

  Alain trotted at Savarin’s side, little legs keeping up with Savarin’s long strides. Savarin was still moving slower than usual, but he would have slowed down for Alain anyway. They descended the stairs into the entrance hall, Joceline following behind them. Two royal guards were standing at attention outside the door to the formal parlor. They watched Savarin and his companions but didn’t stop them from entering the parlor.

  Inside the room, Prince Philip and Prince Amory were seated on one of the couches. Loriot stood near them and broke off whatever he was saying when Savarin led his little procession into the parlor. Loriot’s eyes flew wide for only an instant before his face blanked, but Savarin had to stifle a laugh.

  He paused a few steps into the room and bowed, Alain executing a quite passable bow of his own at his side. A rustle of fabric told him Joceline was curtsying as well.

  “Savarin, it’s good to see you up,” Prince Philip said as Savarin straightened from his bow. “But I’m told you’re still not completely well. Sit with us.”

  “Yes, sit,” Prince Amory said. “And introduce us. Who is th
is young man?”

  Prince Amory smiled at Alain who was practically vibrating with the attention even as he moved closer to Savarin’s leg. “Good afternoon, Your Highnesses. This is Captain Loriot’s son, Alain, and sister, Lady Joceline. They’ve been visiting me, and Alain asked to meet you. I hope it’s not forward that I took it upon myself to perform the introductions.”

  “Not at all,” Prince Amory said with another smile for Alain. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Master Alain.”

  “A great pleasure, Master Alain,” Prince Philip added, smiling as well when Alain sat close to Savarin, seemingly overcome with sudden shyness despite his eagerness just moments earlier. Prince Philip looked up at Loriot. “You could have brought your son to meet us before this, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” Loriot cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have wanted to bother you, but truthfully, I wasn’t aware he was so excited to meet you.”

  Savarin couldn’t help noticing, for as flustered as Loriot was, the princes didn’t seem shocked to be confronted with Loriot’s son. He shouldn’t be surprised, despite his own lack of knowledge of Alain’s existence until recently—Prince Philip always seemed to know more than he might have been expected to, and what Prince Philip knew, Prince Amory did as well. How much did they know about him and his origins?

  A gleam of speculation lit both princes’ eyes. Savarin couldn’t imagine that they weren’t aware of his and Loriot’s affair by now, but perhaps they hadn’t realized it was serious enough for Loriot’s son to be clinging to his hand. Savarin hadn’t quite been aware of that either. But his tentative conclusion was that he rather liked it.

  “And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Joceline,” Prince Amory said. “I’ve read a few of your stories and enjoyed them.”

  “Oh! Thank you, Your Highness. I’m honored,” Joceline stuttered. Loriot placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “We apologize for interrupting your visit with Savarin,” Prince Philip said, directing his statement somewhere between Joceline and Alain.

  “Not at all, Your Highness,” Joceline said. “Alain and I were just leaving, but Alain wanted to meet Your Highnesses, and Master Savarin was kind enough to introduce us. We really should go and leave you to your conversation.” She patted Loriot’s hand and then rose. “Come along, Alain.”

  Savarin ruffled Alain’s hair before he jumped down from the couch. Alain executed another little bow as Joceline curtsied, and the princes bid them farewell.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Loriot said. “With your leave, Your Highnesses?”

  “Of course,” Prince Philip said.

  Loriot bowed and then scooped Alain up in his arms, carrying him as he followed Joceline from the parlor. Alain’s piping voice drifted back to Savarin before the door closed.

  “Alain seems like a sweet boy,” Prince Amory said.

  “I don’t know him very well, Your Highness, but yes he does.” Alain’s concern for Savarin had been unexpected but very sweet, as had the way he’d snuggled up to Savarin while he read.

  “And how are you, Savarin? Are you feeling better?” Prince Philip asked.

  “Yes, Your Highness. Thank you for your concern. And you? Are you and your family well?”

  “We’re all fine. Elodie, Vrai, and Meriall still tire quickly, but Jadis assures us that they’ll recover fully.”

  “I’m happy to hear it, Your Highness. I didn’t want any harm to come to any of you from the working.”

  “You informed us of the risks, and we all went into it well aware of what could happen.” Prince Amory reached over and took his husband’s hand as Prince Philip spoke. Prince Philip laced his fingers through Prince Amory’s even as his gaze turned probing. “But I don’t think you informed us fully of the risks you took on yourself.”

  Loriot slipped back into the room, and Savarin could feel Loriot’s gaze boring into him. Loriot had probably wanted to ask the same question implied in Prince Philip’s statement. Savarin chose his words with care, but he wouldn’t lie. “I explained that it was a complex and delicate piece of spell work, and that it would take quite a bit of power.”

  If anything it felt as if Loriot glared at him harder, but Savarin didn’t take his eyes off the princes. He had to explain himself to the princes—and even then he planned to downplay the risk to himself as much as possible since it wasn’t relevant—but he didn’t have to explain anything to Loriot, not about magic and not about what Savarin chose to do with his power.

  A little voice told him he was wrong about that, that if he and Loriot were in the type of relationship in which he read stories to Loriot’s son and they confided in each other in the dark and took care of each other when they needed it—the kind of relationship that was more than just tumbling each other when they chose, that meant something, that might be permanent—great risk to himself might have been something he should have mentioned to Loriot. But sorcery was his work, his purpose. He couldn’t compromise that for anyone.

  He ruthlessly ignored the little voice once more when it said he was probably wrong about that too.

  “And I don’t think that explanation quite covered that you might be rendered unconscious for the better part of a week,” Prince Philip said.

  Savarin hadn’t expected that either. “Strengthening the protections around Tournai was necessary, Your Highness. Yes, it involved some risks to myself, but I judged them acceptable.”

  “Did you?” Prince Philip’s voice had an edge to it. Prince Amory rested a hand on Prince Philip’s arm. “I needed to be informed of those risks, Savarin.”

  “What we did was necessary for the security of Tournai and its people. Risk to me isn’t as important as the safety of Tournai.” He could still feel Loriot’s gaze, and now his proximity. Loriot hadn’t moved to stand near the princes again but had come closer to where Savarin sat.

  “That is my decision to make, not yours. My responsibility as ruler of Tournai to decide. I need to be informed of the risks to all involved. I told you to inform me of the risks, and I didn’t only mean to me and my family.” The edge to Prince Philip’s voice sharpened, and Savarin held back a flinch by sheer force of will. “The risks to us, to Tournai, and to you, Savarin.”

  “I-I apologize, Your Highness. I should have been more forthcoming,” Savarin said carefully. Angering Prince Philip was not his intent, and though the prince was generally slow to anger, it was still possible and not a good idea to push him. “With any magic comes risk to the user, risk of using too much power and exhausting yourself one of them, but with this working there might have been more risk than others if only because the protection spells are so old and so well constructed and protected. Insinuating myself into the spells, strengthening them, changing them, all took care and power. I expected to feel effects from it, but I didn’t expect them to be so severe.”

  Prince Philip didn’t seem impressed with his reasoning. “Nevertheless, I need to know these things if I’m to trust you. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I apologize again.” What else could he do? At least Prince Philip seemed willing to let the matter go. Something told him Loriot would not be.

  “Good.” Prince Philip glanced at Prince Amory who hadn’t removed his hand from his husband’s arm. Prince Philip moved one of his hands to cover it, linking them again, and turned his attention back to Savarin. “We’ve been under the assumption that what you did with the protection spells worked.”

  Savarin’s interest perked up. “You can feel it, Your Highness?”

  Uncertainty flitted across Prince Philip’s face, something Savarin had seen seldom in his years of experience with the prince. “I’m not sure…. I can feel something. A vague sense of the protections, the security they provide, maybe. But nothing more.”

  “Cathal and Etan have said the same,” Prince Amory added, his eyes filled with curiosity and concern. “They haven’t been able to articulate the feelings any more than Philip has.”<
br />
  “And the others even less so,” Prince Philip said. “But there’s something there.”

  “I thought you might have an increased awareness of the magic after we completed the spell, Your Highness,” Savarin said. “You’ve been reintroduced to the protection spells. They’re tied into your family’s Talent, and you probably will have some peripheral awareness of them going forward.”

  “That tells me they’re still there. Did you manage what you thought you could?”

  “I apologize for not reporting sooner, Your Highness. But, yes, I accomplished what we hoped, bringing the protection spells back up to the strength of what they likely were when they were first put into place.”

  “That’s good to hear. And the rest?”

  “They’ll protect against magical attacks, and I began to shape them to deter physical ones as well, though finishing and strengthening that part will take more work. I believe there may be much more that can be done with them. But for now, they’re strong, and we’ll be warned of attacks through the magic that connects us to the spells.”

  “Us?”

  Savarin nodded, and continued to ignore Loriot’s attention, despite feeling it sharpen. “Now that I’ve been introduced to the spells and used some of my own Talent to shape them, they will always recognize me. I’m a part of them in a way. So I’ll feel it if someone attacks the barrier, and when I work with the protection spells again, they should recognize me and let me in without trouble.”

  He hoped. Unless he’d drastically misjudged the spells. They were different from anything he’d ever worked with or even heard of, but he thought he understood them now, at least the concept of them. He could probably study the theory behind these spells and their construction for the rest of his life. The people who put the spells into place were either brilliant or mad, or perhaps both.

  Prince Philip nodded, whether in agreement or in consideration of Savarin’s words, he couldn’t tell, but then the prince nodded again, more decisively. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Savarin. Your work for us has been impeccable as always.”