The Proper Way to Address a Sorcerer
Aknock at the locked tea shop door pulls Rowan and me away from our conversation about Alishan oolong tea.
“It’s Ash,” Rowan says needlessly, like I don’t have eyes. He doesn’t sound happy about the intrusion, though we both knew Ash was going to meet us today.
I open the door for the councilman, excited to see him on a day off when he doesn’t have any obligation to check on me. He’s just here because he wants to be.
“Hi,” I say, trying to suppress my shimmer.
I must not do a good job because Ash’s smile edges into self-satisfied territory. I’m not sure the man needs the constant ego boost my magic is determined to give him.
“Good morning.” He leans down and drops a greeting kiss to my lips.
The move is unexpected, and it fills me with pure pleasure. Joyful magic twines around us like a contented house cat.
Ash groans softly, almost like he’s in pain, but there’s a smile on his lips. “You’re more rejuvenating than caffeine.”
“Does that mean you don’t want your daily cup of Irish breakfast?”
“No, I’ll gladly take tea.”
He follows me into the shop, pausing when he spots my owl, looking slightly annoyed, like he didn’t realize he was here.
“Rowan,” he says, acknowledging him.
“Ash.”
“You two are going to get along,” I inform them. “You’re not children anymore.”
“Some of us aren’t even men anymore,” Ash says, smirking.
I round the counter and give him a stern look. “Be nice.”
Ash lifts his hands in surrender, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “How is tea training going?”
“Good,” I say brightly. “We’re going over Taiwanese teas today. I’ve just discovered Alishan.”
Ash settles onto a barstool across from me. “Is that a green?”
“It’s an oolong that leans green, grown in the Alishan Mountains. It’s buttery soft, with gentle honey notes.”
“Can a tea be soft?” Ash asks.
“It can, as I’ve just discovered. Would you like to try it?”
“I imagine it’s more expensive than Irish breakfast.”
I narrow my eyes, smiling. “You picked a cheap tea on purpose.”
“I happen to like Irish breakfast. But when we made the agreement, I just wanted an excuse to see you every day.”
“I liked it better when you two were fighting,” Rowan scoffs. “I need some air. I’ll be back in an hour.”
The owl flies upstairs, and a few seconds later, I hear the quiet thunk of the pet door flap.
Ash smiles like he won.
“Stop it.” I laugh as I round the counter to stand in front of him.
He catches my hand, pulling me closer as he looks at me from the stool. We’re almost at eye-level when he’s sitting. “Stop what?”
I’m not expecting it, and this affectionate closeness makes me tingle all over. Ash groans softly, watching my sparkles like they’re a drug.
“Competing with Rowan,” I say.
“I wasn’t,” he replies innocently. “I’m just happy to get you alone.”
I look down at our clasped hands, biting my bottom lip. “Is this a thing we’re doing now?”
He squeezes my hand. “I’d like it to be.”
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I just want to spend as much time with you as you’ll allow.”
“You know, for coming off as prickly, you’re actually sort of romantic.”
He wrinkles his nose like he’s not sure he likes that, making me laugh.
“When we’re done here, I need to start looking for a dust pendant,” I say. “Will you help me?”
Ash’s face becomes solemn. “You cannot be serious about this.”
“Rowan can’t live the rest of his life as an owl.”
“You know this isn’t your responsibility, don’t you?”
“Laverna made it my responsibility.”
“You can’t walk into an alchemy supply store and find a dust pendant, Kit. I don’t even know where you’d begin to look.”
“Could a mage create one for us?”
“I assume so, yes. But magic is a slippery substance. You’ll need to find someone who knows how to contain it in its raw, extracted form. And those people don’t set up public shops.”
“So, Ansel wouldn’t know how to make one?”
Ash frowns. “Ansel is a sorcerer. I think you’d need an enchanter or a magicsmith. You could talk to him, though. I don’t know where else you’d start.”
“You make the magic sound sort of dark.”
“It only becomes dark if you’re taking it from someone unwillingly. But I don’t think many pixies are willing to extract theirs, so anyone who knows how to work with it is likely a criminal.”
“I’ve decided it’s like giving blood. If I donate it for the cause—if it’s my choice—it’s all right. Besides, I’ll be the one manipulating it.”
“You know it’s not an easy task, don’t you? There’s a reason the fae colleges exist. This is highly advanced magic we’re talking about.”
“What I lack in skill I’ll make up in determination.”
He studies me, quietly opposed.
“Will you help me?”
“I don’t believe I have a choice. Who knows what dark alley Rowan will send you down if the two of you are planning this on your own.”
Relieved, I lean against him. “Really?”
He nods, sliding his hand under my hair. “On one condition.”
My heart picks up its pace. “Are we making conditions now?”
“Don’t let the tea shop suffer, all right?” Genuine concern crinkles his brow.
I nod solemnly. “I won’t.”
Ash studies me and then adds pressure to the back of my neck, coaxing me forward. My eyes flutter shut as his mouth meets mine.
Our magic twines together, exhilarating.
Feeling me shiver under his hand, Ash breaks the kiss, concerned. “Is my magic too cold?”
“No,” I say immediately, wanting him to kiss me again. It’s new and wonderful, and I need more. I swallow my nerves and softly admit, “I like it.”
His eyes darken, and a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. He meets me again, his kiss a little firmer this time. With his lips still exploring mine, he stands so he can draw me closer.
My heart beats rapidly, and my breath catches as I lift my hands, placing them on his shoulders. After several long seconds, Ash pulls back, his bottom lip lingering against mine like he can’t bear to break the kiss.
But then he does, and we’re left looking into each other’s eyes. The moment too much, I look down, feeling my cheeks warm.
He strokes my shoulder, his magic still enveloping me. “You’re lovely when you blush.”
“You bring all of my emotions to the surface.”
“I appreciate that you can’t hide them.”
I look up, my eyes softening as I meet his dark brown gaze. I remember Rowan’s warning, and then I cast it aside. Ash isn’t the monster he’s made him out to be, nor does he seem offended by the fact I’m a pixie.
People change, and it’s possible the Ash Rowan knew as a young man is not the Ash that’s standing before me today.
“I like you,” I say.
He smiles, not trying to hide it. “I like you, too.”
“Even though I’m a pixie?”
“Your magic is charming.”
His words bring me peace. Ash closes his eyes, smiling as my summer magic wraps around him like a warm hug.
“You want to try that tea now?” I ask.
Looking a little intoxicated, Ash gently threads his hands into my hair and moves in for another kiss. Against my lips, he murmurs, “Yes…but not yet.”
Moss Hollow Rocks and Gems smells like earth magic. Human customers probably mistake it for rock dust, which is also present, but I know better.
A massive geode with amethyst crystals stands in the shop window, surrounded by large chunks of fluorite, calcite, and other things I don’t recognize. A case along the wall holds more minerals, along with handmade jewelry.
Rosalie stands at the counter, chatting with a customer. Her eyes spark with curiosity as soon as she notices Ash and me in the doorway.
Her features are soft and willowy, and she’s tall and slender. If I didn’t know she was a mage, I might mistake her for high fae.
She’s older than I am, probably closer to Ash’s age, and she’s so pretty, she’s a little intimidating. If I were to stand next to her, I’d probably look like a high school student.
“Welcome,” she calls to us. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“We need to speak with Ansel,” Ash says. “We’ll head to the back, if that’s all right.”
She nods, already returning her attention to the customer.
“I’ll introduce you to her later,” Ash promises.
He leads me past a bulk bin of polished stones, behind a counter, and through a heavy wooden door. Like the one in the library, I can sense an enchantment on it. We wouldn’t be able to pass through it if we were human.
We enter a narrow hall. To the right is a set of stairs that leads up to the second level. If this shop is like mine, there’s an apartment up there.
To the right, the hall goes about ten feet and then makes a ninety-degree turn.
We pass a bathroom, an open storage closet that looks like it survived a tornado, and eventually end up in front of a closed door.
A piece of computer paper is posted to it with a strip of duct tape.
The message reads, “Do not disturb if you value your life.”
“Not” is underlined twice.
Ash reads it, unimpressed, and raps on the door with the back of his knuckles.
A few seconds later, the door flies open. “What did I say—”
Ansel stops abruptly when he sees us, his expression morphing to an annoyed version of resignation, making me think Ash interrupts the sorcerer regularly.
“We planted our window boxes, paid our dues, I’m not harboring any dragons, and I’ve already met our new tea house proprietress.” His eyes momentarily cut to me, assessing, and then move back to Ash. “What could you possibly want?”
Ansel exudes a haughty brand of masculinity that probably drives a lot of women mad.
Not me, though. He’s handsome, naturally, but his body language is anything but welcoming.
He’s also about ten years my senior, and if I thought his sister was daunting, it’s nothing compared to the way this man’s impatient stare affects me.
My attention moves to the wand in Ansel’s hand. He holds it clenched in his fist like he’s thinking about turning Ash into a toad.
“We’re sorry to interrupt,” I say, not eager to make an enemy. “We can come back if this is a bad time…?”
“The damage is already done,” the sorcerer says curtly. “What do you want?”
“We’re looking for a dust pendant,” Ash says, not mincing any words.
Ansel’s eyebrows fly up. “I don’t know what you think I’m doing back here, but I—”
“Can you make one?” Ash asks.
The sorcerer moves his green eyes to me again, scowling. “Why?”
“That’s none of your business,” the councilman says.
“It’s my business when you interrupt my work and start asking about unsavory magic.” Ansel frowns at me like I’m a bit slow. “Do you know what a dust pendant does?”
The man is intimidating. So intimidating, in fact, I can only manage a meek nod.
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes?”
He steps forward, between Ash and me, angling his body until I’m faced with his back. Before I realize what he’s doing, he nudges me into the room and points his wand at Ash. “I don’t care if you’re on the council—I’m going to report this. I can’t afford to get mixed up in this sort of thing.”
I blink at a smudge of rock dust on the sorcerer’s shirt, stunned.
“For crying out loud,” Ash mutters.
“Um…” I tap Ansel’s shoulder, racking my brain as I try to remember the polite way to address a sorcerer. It’s something ridiculous. “Mr…Sir…?”
Still pointing his wand at Ash, Ansel looks at me over his shoulder. “The Great.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You don’t address a sorcerer as Mr. or Sir. His title is The Great. For example, The Great Merlin. I am The Great Ansel. Of course, that’s terribly antiquated, and I don’t expect anyone to address me as such.”
Yes, that’s it. The ridiculous title.
Pushing forward, I say, “I’m sorry, your greatness, but there’s been a misunderstanding. Ash isn’t trying to steal my magic. I asked him to help me.”
“Help you what?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out how I’m going to explain the situation without bringing Rowan into it.
Before I can come up with something, Ash bluntly says, “My idiot cousin turned himself into an owl, and he’s got it in his bird brain that Kit can change him back.”