Chapter Nine
ERIC AWOKE IN Ix’s bed. He could tell by the sheer size of it and the way the covers swamped him.
That, and the smell of Ix surrounding him.
He recalled, vaguely, being scooped up off the armchair, his head lolling onto Ix’s shoulder.
The memory of it in his refreshed mind, in the light of day, was embarrassing enough that he shut his eyes again.
“Are you pretending to be asleep? You’re not very good at it,” said the warm lump at his back, which was presumably Ix.
The mattress dipped under his weight, and Eric fought not to roll into it.
His body wanted to just relax into it, to fit itself against Ix’s chest and be surrounded by not just his smell but his body as well.
And yet, he stayed where he was, muscles locked into place.
“Why are you carrying people into your bed without even a say so?” asked Eric, instead of dignifying that with a response.
“Without a say so?” Ix’s voice was closer then, the exhale of his breath tickling the back of Eric’s neck. “Do I need to ask permission to bring things that belong to me into my bed?”
His hand darted out, flicking the covers off, gripping Eric by the hip and rolling him onto his back.
Ix was shirtless, his thick hair draping over them like a waterfall.
The color was back in his face, and there seemed to be no weakness of muscle in the arm propping him up as he loomed over Eric.
His tone was imperious, but his eyes were playful, familiar lines of laughter etched in the corners.
Eric batted his eyelashes coyly like a maiden. “Your Highness! Why, I can see your collarbones!”
“Ugh, don’t,” Ix drew back with a disgusted face until Eric dropped the act, snickering softly.
It was well known that Prince Ixthan did not respond well to courtly ladies who attempted to force the prince into courting them.
Ix lowered himself onto his side, face close enough to Eric’s that he could have kissed him just by turning his head. “No, I’d rather you were just you.”
Eric squirmed. This was rather more sincere than he was used to Ix being.
He could match a little rough-housing in bed, but this was a different matter altogether.
He was also shirtless, Eric realized suddenly.
He raised his hands to cover his chest, as if he had any modesty to protect.
Ix must have undressed him. He couldn’t make himself ask, the words stuck in his throat.
“Eric. I’ve seen you without a shirt since we were boys.
” The most unfair part of falling into bed with his best friend meant that Ix knew exactly what he was thinking even if Eric couldn’t say it.
Ix looked at him as if he were being ridiculous.
Maybe he was. He wasn’t capable of thinking clearly this close to Ix.
“It’s different,” Eric mumbled.
Ix waited for him to give a reason, but Eric had none. Ix sighed, then got out of bed. “I suppose it is. I have work to do, make yourself comfortable.”
He was gone before Eric could summon the courage to ask him to stay.
Eric groaned, and pulled the covers back over his head.
They still smelled like Ix. He kicked them off again.
If he’d been able to bend a little, Ix probably would have kissed him again.
Probably would have even spread his legs and fucked him again.
Might even, though Eric struggled to imagine this one, have cuddled him in bed and continued to say nice sincere things about him.
Well, now he wasn’t in Ix’s proximity so he could think clearly, and his conclusion was that he was indeed an idiot.
By the time Eric got up – and he had to wander back to his own rooms practically naked because his clothes were nowhere to be found – and sought Ix out, he wasn’t in the parlor or the study.
Eric considered looking in the library, but there was a letter for him on the desk.
A reply from Lymond, agreeing to meet him if he was free today.
Eric chewed his lip. He’d have to talk to Ix sooner or later about, well, everything but if Lymond could be of any practical help in getting Ix’s demonic side back, Eric would put his unresolved feelings to one side for now.
An hour later, Eric decided to spare the cab coin and made the walk from the palace down to the river and then along the bank until he reached the right street.
The weather was still brisk but there were patches of sunshine overhead, cautiously optimistic for the coming of spring, much like himself.
When Eric knocked on the door of a worn townhouse, there was such a long delay that he checked the address given in the note several times, wondering if he’d gotten mixed up.
It was a respectable neighborhood but not exactly the sort of place he expected to be meeting a demon.
Then again, he didn’t know what he’d expected.
Eventually, the door swung open, revealing Archie of Russex, panting slightly. “Good afternoon, terribly sorry for the wait!”
“Quite all right,” said Eric without thinking. “Are you well?”
“Yes, yes, it’s just the landlady is out,” said Archie apologetically. There were no servants, which was only noticeable because Eric waited for someone to take his coat but no one appeared. Oof, he was really going to have to get used to this sort of thing, he was in this same boat now.
Archie took him up two flights of stairs, long enough for Eric to fully understand how odd this was.
He’d interacted with Archie here and there over the years since they ran in similar, if not overlapping, social circles, and were around the same age.
He would have called Archie an amicable acquaintance, though not a true friend.
Lymond in comparison, Eric felt much closer to despite having only spoken to him the few times he had joined Ix’s parties this season.
Even with Ix’s protective necklace and knowing the truth of Lymond’s demonic nature, Eric wasn’t completely immune to the effect of Lymond’s magic. He’d never thought too much about the difference in magical abilities but he was starting to see why Ix said Lymond was powerful.
“It’s not much, we’ve only just moved in.
Tea?” said Archie somewhat apologetically as he led Eric into a simply furnished parlor.
Evidently clear that two young bachelors lived here: there was nary a painting on the wall or a vase of flowers anywhere.
The only furnishings were the sofa and armchairs and the bookshelf crowded with books.
“Please,” said Eric. Lymond was already here. Archie bustled away again, presumably to make tea, and he was left alone in the room with a demon.
Eric took a moment to discreetly examine him but gods, he couldn’t tell that Lymond wasn’t human at all. He could feel that strange haze pressing at his mind too, now he knew to look for it, that insisted that he’d known Lymond for years.
“Good afternoon, Lymond,” said Eric cautiously. He wasn’t scared, he had more experience than most at being left alone in a room with a demon, but still. This wasn’t his demon. “That is – should I continue to address you as Lymond?”
“Lord Marrawshire,” said Lymond with a bow. “I see our good prince has bestowed his protection on you. I assume you know the truth of me then.”
All the demons Eric had met were so sarcastic and dry. Was that a demonic trait? “I – think so?” Eric touched where the necklace lay under his shirt self-consciously.
“Then Lymond is sufficient,” said the demon Damaris, also known as Damian of Lymond. He looked so normal. So real. “Tell me. I’m curious to know why you wished to meet behind Ixthan’s back.”
“I’m not keeping secrets from him,” said Eric, trying not to let the strangeness of the encounter rattle him. He’d come with a clear purpose in mind: to ask Lymond for help. Any pride or discomfort he felt was worth it, if he could do that. “I just want to know what Jasper offered you.”
A human might have expressed surprise, or disdain, or some sort of emotion but Lymond was blank, as if he wasn’t too used to changing his facial expression.
Eric could feel the slightest nudge, just a suggestion in his mind that reassured him Lymond had reacted appropriately and he should feel warmer toward him.
He batted the thought away, grateful for the necklace.
“Immunity,” said Lymond after a moment. Eric hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming with the answer, but he understood immediately. Prince Jasper was the crown heir. His word came with a legitimacy that Ix’s couldn’t promise, because Jasper would one day become king.
“Not friendship?” Eric’s heart was in his mouth.
Lymond looked actually interested at that. Even Archie made a sound. The demon was silent for a long moment. The most unnerving thing was realizing that he didn’t have to blink or breathe. Eventually, he said: “I see why he likes you.”
Eric flinched. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Lie to yourself if you must.” Lymond looked unbothered. “What then, I continue coming to your parties? Play cards and roll dice?”
“Why not? I have memories of you enjoying yourself.”
“Hm. I did like the little pastries,” said Lymond. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, and I’ll think about it.”
“But not in that way,” said Archie hurriedly. “He doesn’t mean a demonic deal.”
Eric looked from Archie, to Lymond, and back again. Lymond shrugged, an uneven gesture almost as if he weren’t used to having bones, the first sign that he wasn’t entirely human. Again, that whisper of magic brushed against Eric’s mind, telling him that it had looked completely normal.
Archie flushed, and hurried away to tend to the tea again. Eric decided to focus on the important thing here: he explained Ix’s collapse, how he found him, everything he could remember about the situation, Ix’s theory of exorcism, all details Ix had omitted in his first letter.
Damaris snorted. “I told him it was a foolish thing to try.”
“So it’s true then? He exorcised his demon side?” asked Eric, his stomach sinking.
“I have never been exorcised, so I wouldn’t know.” Lymond looked genuinely interested, but in the way of a voyeur excited at seeing a terrible accident. “But his magic is clearly extant.”
“What do you mean? I said he can’t use any magic anymore.”
“Whatever protective ward lies on you. That is his own magic creation, is it not?”
“My necklace? Yes, he enchanted it himself.” Eric reached to take the necklace off before remembering that it was the only thing ridding him of Lymond’s magical influence.
“Ahhh, I almost had you,” said Lymond with a lazy grin. Eric scowled. Instead, he hooked the chain out from under his shirt and held it out for Lymond to examine.
Lymond didn’t need to touch it; he barely needed to even look at it.
“Interesting. If it had been extinguished, then I would have said his demon half had perished entirely. And though the magic still works, I cannot feel its connection to its maker. His demonic half may yet be recoverable but where it is, I cannot say.”
“Can you help?”
“Can I?” mused Lymond. “Yes. But can I? We shall have to see.”
Eric scowled, tucking the necklace safely back in his clothes, trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean.
“Eric?” asked Archie. Eric started; he’d almost forgotten about Archie, but there he was with the tea. “I’m sorry, what he’s trying to say is that we would like to help but we’re unsure if we are, ah, permitted. Can’t the palace mages do anything with this information?”
Eric thought it through. If Lymond had to report back to Jasper on any help he provided Ix, then Ix would likely much rather Jasper not know.
Which meant that information and knowledge was the extent of Lymond’s help.
Ix was protective over how much other people knew of his magical knowledge, as evidenced by how upset he’d been that Eric had shown the healer mage the etchings on the mirror.
Eric was glad Archie was here to cut through the cryptic nonsense of Lymond, but it was unsettling to see.
It almost seemed a reflection of him and Ix, the way he stepped in to steer the conversation or clarify for Ix when needed.
He didn’t mind doing so – in fact, he often took pride in being the only one able to decipher Ix – but the bond between Archie and Lymond seemed so obvious as an outside observer.
Did people see him and Ix in the same way?
“Still. Even this much was useful,” said Eric.
“Ix doesn’t have a lot of people he can discuss real demon magic with.
He might not have said it out loud, but he was looking forward to doing more of that with you.
Please do attend the next party if you’re so inclined.
You too, Archie, if you need someone to share the burden of your, uh, otherrealm secrets. ”
“Thank you.” Archie laughed softly. He placed a hand on Lymond’s; the two of them had some silent conversation that Eric couldn’t decipher and after a moment he felt awkward watching the two of them stare at each other.
“Right. Thank you for your help. I’ll take my leave,” said Eric, hastily making towards the door and leaving his tea undrunk.