The Sorcerer’s Guardian

by Antonia Aquilante

  Alain was spending more and more time at Savarin’s house—Joceline’s doing, Loriot was sure—in an effort to either accustom Savarin to the presence of a child or push him and Savarin into a discussion of their living arrangements. Perhaps both. Savarin didn’t seem to have any problem with Alain’s presence, despite not having experience thinking about a child before. He seemed to like Alain. Loriot could only hope he’d come to care more for him.

  “Master Savarin? Will you make the horse run again?”

  Alain’s voice drew Loriot’s attention back from the daydreams it had wandered into. Alain’s face was tilted up toward them, his eyes large and imploring.

  “The horse?” Loriot asked. “What do you mean, Alain?”

  “Remember, Papa?” Alain bounced in place and grinned up at Loriot. He held up an intricately carved and painted horse that Loriot had bought him for his last birthday. The toy was perhaps too fine for such a little boy, but Alain loved little carved figures, and he treasured the horse. “Master Savarin made the horse run all by himself! And make horse noises! But the horse stopped, and he said he would do it again sometime. Can you now? Please?”

  Hope soared in Loriot for a moment, twining with the sweet, warm feeling that the image of Savarin entertaining his son gave him. If Savarin was making Alain’s toys move on their own, Savarin was using his Talent. He followed his son’s gaze to Savarin who sat frozen beside him, the tension in Savarin’s frame far different from his relaxed pose of just a moment ago. His heart sank again, but he kept a smile on his face for all of their sakes. “I remember now. I saw it that first time you met. When was the last time?”

  “That was the only time I ever did.” Savarin’s smile was a trifle forced, but Alain probably wouldn’t notice. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

  Alain shook his head vehemently, and Loriot stifled a laugh. His child forget something so amazing? Not likely. “You made an impression. Alain isn’t likely to forget his toys running around on their own entertaining him.”

  “I suppose not.” Savarin seemed to flounder for what to say, something that Loriot didn’t ever remember seeing him do before they’d become intimate. Loriot was humbled again that Savarin let him see behind the mask he showed the world.

  “Please, Master Savarin? Will you? Please?” Alain jumped into the silence, still bouncing and smiling and holding the little horse out to Savarin.

  At least Alain was being respectful while he begged Savarin for magic.

  But that didn’t negate the fact that Alain was begging Savarin to do magic for him, and Savarin was drawn tight as a bow beside Loriot. Because Savarin avoided even speaking of magic these days, let alone using it to delight a little boy.

  “I’ve told you, you don’t have to call me Master Savarin, Alain,” Savarin said.

  “I know.” Alain smiled even wider. “Will you make him run again?”

  Loriot could have told Savarin he’d need a far better distraction than that to put a curious child like Alain off when the alternative was magic. But if Savarin tensed any more, he was likely to snap. “Savarin hasn’t been well, Alain. Why don’t you play with your animals the usual way tonight?”

  “I know, Papa. He was sleepy a lot, but he’s been better. And it’s not a lot of magic. Please?”

  How Alain knew whether Savarin would need a little power or a lot was beyond Loriot. But then the logic of children often was—sometimes straightforward, sometimes unfathomable, sometimes both at the same time. And wondering about it wouldn’t get Savarin out of the situation Alain had unwittingly plunged them into with his innocent request. Loriot had wanted to confront Savarin about using his Talent, but he didn’t think this was quite the best way. “Perhaps Savarin will be able to another time, but he can’t tonight. Play with them on your own, Alain.”

  A mulish expression settled on Alain’s face, his mouth turning into a pout. Loriot blamed it on Joceline; Alain obviously took after her in this regard. “But why? I like it when they move. I like the magic. Please? For a minute? Please?”

  “Your father said not tonight.” Savarin’s voice lashed out, cold and sharp. Perhaps sharper than Savarin intended, if the shock in his eyes was any indication. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “Not tonight, Alain.”

  Savarin rose abruptly and strode into the house, closing the door behind him with a sharp, decisive click. Loriot would have to talk to him, but first he had to talk to Alain, who stared after Savarin, his little face stricken. Alain turned eyes gone large and damp on Loriot. He felt that little clutch of pain and helplessness that always came when there were tears in Alain’s eyes. He wanted to be angry at Savarin for causing them—and he was—but Alain had pushed even when Loriot told him to stop.

  “Papa?”

  “Come here.” He held his hands down to Alain and helped him scramble up into Loriot’s lap. Alain curled into his arms, rubbing at his eyes. Only five and already he hated to cry. “It’s all right. But you need to listen to me when I say you can’t have something. Savarin can’t do magic for you all the time.”

  Alain nodded against his chest and said something too quietly for him to hear.

  “What did you say, sweet?”

  “Is Master Savarin mad at me?”

  His heart broke a little at the words. “No one is mad at you. But you must mind what you’re told, yes?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Good boy.” He kissed Alain on the forehead and gave him a hug. “Pick up your toys, and we’ll go in and wash up for dinner.”

  Chapter 33

  AFTER LEAVING Alain in the care of one of the maids who would make sure he washed his hands and face properly, Loriot went in search of Savarin. He hoped he might find Savarin in his study, but the room was empty and dark. The sitting room near Savarin’s bedchamber was empty as well, but he found Savarin in the bedchamber itself. A good thing since he had no desire to search the whole house, and also because Savarin wasn’t hoping to hide from him.

  He closed the door behind him, but Savarin never turned, continuing to stare out the front window with his back to the room. “Are you all right?”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d come up here to ask me that. Is Alain all right?”

  “He’s fine. I sent him off to wash up for dinner.” He moved closer to Savarin. “And, no, I don’t like that you used that tone with him, but he’d been told no already, and he kept bothering you. He shouldn’t have. He knows better than that.”

  Savarin’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh with him.”

  “You can tell him when you see him.” He paused but had to push on. “Why were you?”

  “I….” Savarin shook his head and raked a hand through his hair, mussing the perfectly arranged locks.

  “Have you used your Talent yet at all?” he asked. He’d spoken quietly, but the words sounded loud in the silent room even to his own ears.

  Savarin’s whole body flinched. Which was answer enough, not that Loriot needed the confirmation—he knew Savarin hadn’t tried to use his Talent—but the question had to be asked. Savarin needed to hear it.

  “Why?” he asked when Savarin remained silent. “Why haven’t you used your Talent?”

  “I… can’t.”

  Ice pooled in his gut, and he took another step forward. “You can’t use magic? Have you told Jadis?”

  Savarin shook his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

  Loriot tried to calm his racing heart. He couldn’t stand not being able to see Savarin’s face. He closed the last of the distance between them in two long strides and put his hand to Savarin’s shoulder. Turning Savarin around took less than he expected, but when he was faced with Savarin and the turmoil in his eyes, he still didn’t know what to do. “What did you mean, then?”

  “I meant—I meant I can’t try.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I can’t!” The words exploded out of Savarin as he slapped one hand against the window frame. “I can’t just t
ry to use my Talent.”

  He’d managed not to flinch at Savarin’s outburst. “I don’t understand, Savarin. Help me understand. Because I want to make things better for you. I want you to be happy, and you aren’t. Please, help me understand.”

  Savarin stared at him as long moments passed. Then he sighed, his whole body sagging. “It’s going to sound ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous.”

  “You’re not. You couldn’t. Or maybe you could, but tell me anyway.” His smile and teasing words didn’t get much of a reaction, but he thought Savarin relaxed just a little, and he would take that as enough for now.

  “I can’t try, because what if I try and I fail? I was depleted to nothing, Loriot. To nothing. I’ve never had that happen to me before.” Savarin glanced out the window into the coming twilight. “What if my Talent doesn’t behave as it used to, what if it isn’t back to normal? What if it never comes back to full strength? Since my Talent came on me, I’ve never been without it. I don’t know what to do without it. I don’t know what I would be without it.”

  “You would still be you, and you would adjust. I believe that you would be fine. And I would do everything I could to help.” He didn’t take his eyes off Savarin, though Savarin still stared out into the falling night. “But you won’t know if it’s necessary until you try to use your Talent.”

  Savarin let out a half laugh that was more than a little bitter. “As easy as that?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s easy for you. I know you’re scared.”

  Savarin whipped his head around and glared at Loriot. The glare would have many, if not most, people shaking, but Loriot was immune by now.

  “I know you’re scared, Savarin,” he repeated. “And I understand why, but you can’t let fear rule you forever. Your Talent means too much to you for you to just ignore it out of fear. You have to try.”

  “I don’t like feeling this way,” Savarin said stiffly.

  “I know.” He didn’t need to say that no one would hear of it from him; Savarin should know by now that anything between them would stay between them, or they shouldn’t be thinking of a life together.

  “How do I stop?”

  “You just do.” He reached out and pulled Savarin to him, holding him tightly, firmly against his chest. Savarin held himself stiff at first but soon relaxed into Loriot’s hold, letting Loriot support him. “You try and you see and then we figure out what to do next if we have to.”

  “We should decide what to do next anyway. You should move in here. You and Alain.”

  “Are you sure?” He drew back enough to see Savarin’s face. “Alain will have his moments the way he did tonight.”

  “I’m sure. I want you here, both of you.” Savarin lifted a hand to Loriot’s face, cupping his cheek. “I love you.”

  He wouldn’t be embarrassed to admit that his stomach did a swoop at the words, words he didn’t think he would hear. Ever, maybe, or at least for a long while. He nuzzled into Savarin’s palm, pressing a kiss there. “I love you too.”

  Savarin smiled, a slow delightful, delighted smile. “And you’ll live here?”

  “Yes, we will.” He stared up at Savarin. “And you’ll think about what I said?”

  Savarin hesitated for the briefest instant, which Loriot might not have noticed if he didn’t know Savarin so well. “I will.”

  “Good.” He pressed a quick kiss to Savarin’s lips and gasped when Savarin slid a hand behind his neck, pulling him close and holding him there, deepening the kiss, lingering over it until they were both breathless.

  “That’s better,” Savarin said with a wicked grin. “We really should celebrate this decision.”

  “We can’t right now. A small boy is waiting for his dinner.” Loriot would have liked to, though. The bed was close, and he could imagine dragging Savarin there and not letting him out until morning. But they couldn’t, not yet anyway. “Later, though.”

  “Later.”

  He stepped back from Savarin reluctantly. “I better go down and make sure the maid who was helping Alain wash up survived the experience.”

  Savarin laughed. “He’s not that much of a terror.”

  “I have no doubt he will be after more exposure to you.” He danced backward, out of reach of Savarin’s playful swipe. “We’ll meet you in the dining room. Come down when you’re ready.”

  Savarin sobered and nodded. “I’ll be down shortly. And… thank you, Loriot.”

  “No thanks necessary.” He smiled before turning and walking to the door.

  “Yes, thanks are most certainly necessary.”

  SAVARIN TOOK the time Loriot offered him, though he didn’t do much more than turn back to the window and watch the street below as the lamps lit. There were people out on the street, most on horseback, some on foot. A carriage rattled past, its wheels clacking on the cobbles. The normal evening activity. He’d spent a lot of time watching the people on a street much like this one when he went to live with Firmin all those years ago, on breaks from studying how to control and use his Talent. He’d wanted to fit into this world as much as he’d wanted to master the magic he suddenly had.

  He’d done both—he wouldn’t have accepted anything less from himself—but now he was afraid that his magic might not be the same. He thought he could feel his Talent, a tight ball of power deep down inside, but it didn’t feel the same as it always had. And the difference worried him and made him wonder if he was imagining the feeling of it being there entirely. From the time his Talent had made itself known, it had always felt the same inside him. Exhilarating. Powerful. Always simmering beneath the surface, waiting. But it was quiet now, barely discernable. He wanted to shy from the thought that it always might be now, but he couldn’t turn away from it anymore.

  As much as he might like to.

  Loriot made sense. Savarin couldn’t ignore his Talent—potential lack of Talent—forever. He couldn’t give in to his fear. Well, he couldn’t keep giving in to his fear. He would have to try, have to know one way or another, and he’d probably put off knowing too long already.

  No probably about it. He had put it off too long.

  His strength had returned quickly after Jadis healed his fever. He could have tested his Talent long before now, and then perhaps he wouldn’t have snapped at Alain, who, true, hadn’t been behaving as he should, but that didn’t give Savarin leave to use the tone he had. He had a lot to learn about children, and he would have to learn quickly if he was really going to put himself into the position of being something of a father to one. Or at the very least, an authority figure. A daunting prospect. He’d never been that to a child before. His students were all much older and looked to him as a teacher, not a father figure. Most, if not all, of them would probably be too intimidated to ever entertain the notion of him as anything close to that. Alain had never been scared of him, not from the first moment. Savarin liked that, but he didn’t know how that helped him in caring for the boy on a daily basis.

  But Loriot would help him. Loriot knew what it was to be a father, and he would guide Savarin. They would all have to adjust when Loriot and Alain came to live here, and he was under no illusions that the adjustment would be smooth and easy at all times. But he wanted Loriot and Alain in his home, wanted it to be their home. All of theirs, together. And then, maybe someday, if they all adjusted and everything seemed right… maybe then, marriage?

  He’d never thought to marry, but then he’d never thought to fall in love with a man who had a young son and to want a home with them. He’d never thought he would allow himself to be so vulnerable in front of anyone either, but he had with Loriot. Loriot had seen him at his weakest these past weeks, had listened to his fears, and had done nothing but support him. He could trust Loriot with those parts of himself he would show no one else. Loriot would accept him, would help him, and Loriot would never reveal any of it to anyone else.

  There had been a time, not so long ago, when he wouldn’t have been able to believe that so readily, not
knowing Loriot’s loyalty to the princes. But that was before he and Loriot formed a bond between them. Now he knew without having to ask that Loriot would keep his confidences. The princes would never learn how difficult Savarin’s recovery was, would never learn of Savarin’s fears. And Loriot would protect Savarin, even though he didn’t always need it. Would stand beside him through anything. He could put his secrets and his life in Loriot’s hands. With that level of trust, with the love that welled up inside him now as he thought of Loriot—a love he’d never thought to feel but had somehow slowly slid into without even realizing it—was it any wonder he could contemplate a future that included marriage to that man?

  But thoughts of marriage were for the future. He had more immediate concerns.

  Which brought him back to the issue of his Talent and how Loriot was right. He would have to put it to the test, and soon.

  He sighed and blinked, the street coming back into focus. Soon didn’t mean tonight, especially since Loriot and Alain were waiting for him in the dining room. He hoped they hadn’t waited to eat. He hadn’t meant to take quite so much time with his thoughts, and Alain was likely hungry. From what Loriot had told him, Alain didn’t generally eat with the adults of the household, but instead ate earlier in his nursery. They’d chosen to have him wait tonight, liking the idea of eating together, but he doubted they’d be able to do so every night. Alain would need to keep to his routine. It would be best for him at his age.

  He shook his head, surprised again to even be thinking of a child’s routine.

  After neatening his hair and clothing, he left the bedchamber, taking the most direct path to the dining room downstairs. It was really meant to be a breakfast room, but the house’s actual dining room was rather large and formal for a meal shared between two men and a small boy, or even just two men. He used the dining room only when he entertained, which he did less than he’d imagined he would. He enjoyed socializing, but planning an event of his own took time away from his work that he didn’t want to lose.