Runescribe

by Megan Derr

  More than all of that, even the glasses, he had taught Vess a way to communicate. The moment Tyri had a job he would save however much it took to see she got further finger language lessons.

  Unfamiliar clothes were draped neatly over a chair. Tyri touched them, rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Good linen, the jacket was fine wool, and the stockings seemed to be silk. If he sold them at the secondhand shop down the street from their building, he could pay rent for at least three months, possibly four. They weren't the kind of clothes he should be wearing, but he couldn't stay in his night robe—oh, god, Rathte had probably removed the dressing gown and put the robe on him, that man—so he quickly pulled them on, smoothing the fabric fretfully as he finished. Then he turned back to Vess and started to speak, but only wound up staring in surprise. "Wherever did you get that dress, Vessie?"

  She beamed and stood up on the bed, bouncing and twirling to show off her violet dress and white, lace-trimmed pinafore with a matching ribbon holding back most of her curls.

  "You look like a princess," Tyri said, breath hitching as he was once again forced to remove his glasses and dry his eyes. He could never repay all this kindness. Worse, he couldn't give Vess the same things, and how was he supposed to take them away now that she had them?

  But hadn't Rathte mentioned something about needing a runescribe? Was he imagining that? The previous day was hazier than he liked, and spirits, how long had he slept?

  Vess jumped off the bed, ran to him, and grasped his hand in both of hers, beaming up at him, the happiest he had seen her—practically ever, really. Still holding fast to his hand, she dragged him from the room, down a beautiful set of winding marble stairs, past paintings and tapestries and furniture that left him reeling at the sheer casual luxury of it all.

  "How do you know the way so well, Vessie?" he asked with a smile. "Princess of the castle already, are you?" Oh, what was he going to do? He couldn't take her from this back to their hovel, back to their nothing.

  She pressed her free hand to her mouth in a silent giggle and then let go of his hand briefly to gesture with both of hers.

  While he didn't understand exactly, it wasn't hard to guess. "Charming a wizard, huh? Trying to wrap him around your finger so you can get more dresses and cakes?" He laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him.

  Finally, they reached a room that seemed to have mostly windows for walls, looking out over a veritable rainbow of flowers, morning sunshine spilling across a table and chairs in the middle of the room—

  And the most stunning man Tyri had ever seen standing off to one side, obviously having been looking at the garden until the door opened. His hair was so pale a blond it was nearly white, neatly braided back but with several wispy strands falling to frame his face. Warm brown skin and the constantly color-shifting eyes of a wizard. He was beautiful in a sharp, elegant way, like a well-crafted blade. He was dressed in a handsome blue and green jacket, well-fitted brown breeches, fine shoes with silver buckles, and silver and opal rings in his ears and nose.

  His ridiculously distracting lips curved in a warm smile as he saw them and strode over. "Good morning. You're looking much better. I am glad. You slept so long, I was worried perhaps you'd gotten sick, but the princess here assured me that you simply work too hard. How are the glasses?" He lifted a hand as though to touch, then curled his fingers in and let his hand fall. "Borin thought he read your measurements correctly but said to summon him at once if they required adjusting."

  "Perfect," Tyri blurted, face going hot. "I mean, the glasses are perfect. I've never had such fine ones. Thank you, my lord, for everything. Especially everything you've done for my sister; it shames me to admit it, but I never could have done all that you have."

  Rathte made a soft noise that seemed somewhere between dismissal and comfort. "It's not hard to tell that I have more money than one person needs. I donate, sponsor, and more, and still I have piles of the stuff. All princesses should have pretty dresses—or breeches, whichever they prefer. Isn't that right, your highness?"

  Vess giggled and signed something. Rathte smiled and replied in the same manner, then looked at Tyri and said, "She says she's never worn breeches, and I said we can certainly fix that. I think one of my half dozen nieces has some that were left here with everything else in storage. Mistress Vess is most welcome to them; I certainly don't have any use for children's clothes."

  "My lord, you don't—"

  "You may as well not bother," Rathte said with a crooked smile that somehow made him even more devastating, which was wholly unfair. He slid an arm around Tyri's shoulders. "I do as I like, and I would like for her to have whatever clothes she desires. It's not as though any of it will be missed; the nieces who once owned them have outgrown them by now."

  "I—you've done far too much for us, my lord." Tyri looked up at him, then away before he did something stupid like kiss him. "This is far beyond compensating me for the broken glasses. I don't—I could never repay all of this. You did not—"

  Rathte laid a finger over his lips and gave him that crooked smile again. He turned back to Vessie and said, "I think Cook was looking for you. She wanted someone to test her cakes and tell her if they needed more cream. Why don't you go see her?"

  Vess nodded, gave Tyri's legs a quick hug, and then darted off, leaving them alone.

  Slowly Rathte's finger slid away. Tyri could still feel it though, and fought an urge to lick his lips. His heart drummed in his ears.

  "There is something I would like to discuss with you, now you've got your glasses back and are not relying on me or anyone else. Equal footing, as it were."

  Tyri bit back a laugh. Him on equal footing to a wizard who was nothing more than amused that he'd been banned from the royal presence and nearly a third of the noble houses in the city. "Yes, my lord."

  "Oh, stop your quiet laughter," Rathte said with a sigh that was completely ruined by his smile and the mirth in his rainbow eyes. "I mean, now that you're capable of walking away, without fearing you'll be dumped on the street with no way to get home safely or take care of yourself and your sister. Is that better?"

  "I knew what you meant, my lord."

  "Stop calling me that. Liste only says it sarcastically, so I'm going to keep thinking you're doing the same thing." He winked, then cleared his throat. "As you've realized by now, I don't listen to anyone but myself, and I like to take charge and make decisions and give orders and expect everyone to go along with it—for the most part."

  Tyri blinked and said, "You are rather take charge, yes. But that's the way it is in the clans; my father is…not dissimilar to you. I bet you know that."

  Rathte smiled faintly—hesitantly. "So, it doesn't bother you?"

  "Only when I can't see, and strangers attempt to remove my clothes without so much as a by your leave," Tyri replied, and hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt, because thinking about Rathte taking his clothes off was doing him no favors.

  "I suppose that's reasonable," Rathte said with a small laugh, but then that maddening hesitancy returned. Since when did Rathte dither or hesitate over anything? Tyri would bet he'd never done it once in his life.

  Tyri peered up at him. "Is there—is something wrong? If you're trying to figure out how to tell me to go—"

  "Stay!" Rathte burst out, and for a moment all his anxiety and hope showed in his face, and then he sighed and closed up again. "Well that was rather inelegant of me." He cleared his throat. "I would like for you to stay. I need a runescribe, as I mentioned briefly last night before I realized it would be in poor taste to ask you while you were…"

  "Helpless?" Tyri asked wryly.

  "Not at your best," Rathte replied. "You've already shown more mettle in a single day than the last twenty I've tried to employ showed combined. You're smart and hardworking if you've come this far on your own, and have a good heart—a wonderful one, I daresay—to have brought your sister along with you. I enjoy the clans, but I know they can be unreasonable, ev
en cruel, with anyone not fully able in body."

  "Yes," Tyri said quietly. "All my family did when I left was give us food for a few days and tell us yet again we were being fools."

  Rathte's face clouded. "I know a bit about family letting you down. Thankfully for me, the only relative I have left now is the sister I get along with and her darling family. Anyway, despite the rumors you may have heard, I am not a horrible ogre of an employer. I merely have expectations that runescribes consistently fail to meet."

  Tyri's mouth twitched, and at Rathte's tolerantly amused look, broke down and laughed. "I have seen you with Liste, my lo—and I have put up with truly unpleasant employers and even worse family. I think I'm more than capable of handling a man who is merely loud and imperious."

  "Merely," Rathte repeated with a warm smile. "I believe that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my personality."

  "Then you spend time with the wrong people," Tyri said. "A man as awful as rumors say would not buy me new glasses, new clothes, feed me, let me sleep all day, and invite my little sister over to be treated like a princess." He blinked rapidly and looked away. "Or give her a way to speak. That alone is worth more than I can ever repay."

  "No one should be repaid for treating a person like a person," Rathte replied. "Those things seem large to you, but they are trifling to me, though I did them earnestly. Hopefully to my favor, as I would like to take you on as my runescribe. I am demanding, I'm not as glamorous or well-liked; many in the city will not even look at me in public, let alone speak to me. But I pay a good deal more because I work with summoning, and by law that requires a higher salary to compensate for the additional hazards entailed. I also work only for myself, not a college or the crown or anything else, so we work when and how we want, leaving plenty of time to have tea with a princess or take her to the park or to eventually buy more dresses."

  "You…" Damn it, why did this man constantly leave him on the verge of tears. "You don't even know me."

  "You have a good heart, which to be honest tells me more than enough. Your sister worships the ground you walk on, which says even more. I did glance over your paperwork, and frankly any wizard who fails to hire you doesn't deserve their magic. Your handwriting is better than any I've seen, and your testing scores are top tier. I don't know why in the world you were struggling to find work." He sighed. "That is, I do know why, and people are stupid. But I am offering. Saying I don't know you is a bit silly—you don't know me, really, either, and employer and employee seldom know each other before they start working together."

  Tyri smiled. "That is true. You won't mind my sister being here?" Runescribes usually lived on the premises, or very close, because wizards often worked odd and extended hours. It was also a security measure, given the espionage and stealing that was always afoot, as wizards were possessive about their spellwork and disinclined to share knowledge.

  "I like children," Rathte said. "They like me. If you're willing to give it a try, we'll start you on a trial basis. If it doesn't work out, you'll be free to go—and with three months' pay so you don't have to worry about that. I never send even the worst employee away worrying about surviving until the next job. Your job will include all the usual: writing, transcribing, record keeping, research, running magic-related errands, accompanying me to official events… There will be other duties, related to the summoning, but we can discuss those later. You will also likely be stuck in a role similar to Liste's, in that you'll be the buffer between me and most of the world. Everyone finds me vastly more tolerable when dealt with indirectly."

  "Everyone is stupid," Tyri said, then went bright red.

  Surprise filled Rathte's face, and that strange shyness returned briefly before he got control of himself once more.

  Honestly, was no one ever kind to this man, just because he was loud and brash and bossy? That was so absurd, Tyri wanted to find every last twit who'd hurt Rathte and knock them upside the head.

  Oh, he really was going to do something stupid, wasn't he? This was the strangest job interview he'd ever had, but that just reassured him in a way a formal one wouldn't. He could work with Rathte, he already liked Rathte, and he feared it wouldn't be hard to love him. Why did he always insist on doing everything the hard way? "I want to accept it," he said slowly.

  Rathte's face fell. "But?"

  "I definitely want the job," Tyri said, looking up at him, not caring how much of what he was thinking showed on his face, repeating softly, "It sounds like a dream come true…"

  "Whatever is holding you back, I promise we'll find a way to work with or around it. Please?"

  Tyri swallowed. That soft please, said with a faint edge of a desperation for acceptance…that was a feeling he knew well, so well he ached for both of them. "I don't think we can. You're…interesting and fascinating and beautiful. I'm worried I will not be able to regard you simply as an employer, and I do not want to force either of us to endure such an awkward arrangement. Accepting even a trial period would seem dishonest."

  Instead of the horror or embarrassment or anger he'd expected, Rathte broke into a smile that Tyri could only describe as radiant. Mercy of the spirits, there went whatever was left of his mid.

  "Well, that solves one problem," Rathte said.

  Tyri frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "I've been vexed all day that I could hire you or seduce you, but not both, as I would not have wanted you to think your job was contingent on sharing my bed." Rathte wrinkled his nose. "Too many wizards do that, like that odious fellow Forri. One day I'll get his license revoked, you just wait."

  "He keeps making me offers."

  "What!" Rathte bellowed, and mercy of the spirits, if that was what he was like when he was angry, it was no wonder people were afraid of him. But Tyri couldn't find much sympathy, given 'people' seemed like odious bastards. "I will kill that bastard."

  "You'll do nothing of the sort," Tyri said. "I've been refusing him. I admit I worried I would have no choice but to accept soon, but then this mad fellow kidnapped me and spoiled me rotten. I'm not certain he understands how kidnapping works."

  Rathte's angry expression froze, then collapsed into warm amusement. "I am known for being unorthodox. So since we seem to be in agreement on everything, will you take the job?"

  Tyri's heart pounded in his chest, thrumming in his ears, making his stomach jittery. "I would be honored to accept."

  Rathte smiled then, soft and satisfied, happiness and a small spark filling his swirling eyes. "Good, because if you'd said no, I was going to bribe your sister and my servants into helping me make you stay." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Or steal your glasses, I hadn't quite decided yet."

  "There will be no stealing of glasses, my lord."

  "Ah, there's the sarcastic tone I know so well," Rathte said with a laugh. He cupped Tyri's chin in one hand, and then kissed both his cheeks, firmly, lingering just a breath too long each time. Heat flashed through Rathte's eyes again as he drew back, and something in his voice made Tyri shiver as he said, "Welcome, runescribe. I believe we'll get along famously."

  "Th-thank you, wizard. It—it is my hope that we will," Tyri replied.

  "Let there be no doubt," Rathte said, and then the damn man hesitated again.

  Tyri huffed. "Stop trying to behave. It won't last, and it fits you like a badly measured jacket." Then he took a chance on acting as boldly as his new employer and yanked the fool man down into a kiss that blazed as fiercely as Rathte himself.

  Rathte swept him up, quite literally off his feet, and kissed him back with an ardent heat that left Tyri shivering. When they eventually broke apart, both panting and flushed, he said, "I have never been more grateful to have knocked someone over."

  "Well, next time you feel an urge to knock me over, make certain I land on a bed and my glasses survive, please."

  Smiling against his lips, Rathte said, "You're already fitting in perfectly, my little runescribe." Then they were right back to kissing, until L
iste showed up to blandly inform them breakfast was ready.

  FIN

  About the Author

  Megan is a long time resident of LGBTQ romance, and keeps herself busy reading, writing, and publishing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she's not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers and can be found all over the internet.

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