Chapter Ten
“DON’T YOU DARE pull your jabs.” Ix was in a state of high dudgeon, stripped down to just his undershirt, the sweat making the fabric cling to his shoulders. The duel was his idea, a friendly bout between friends and a way to test his current physical ability.
Privately, Eric thought he wasn’t well enough for such physical exertion yet, but he’d thought they’d been on their way to the courtyard for a gentle turn about the inner gardens when Ix had ducked into his salle instead.
It was a long room that spanned the length of his wing in the New Palace.
One side opened into the gardens; the other boasted full-height mirrors that ran the length of the room so anyone training would be able to see their form more clearly, an outrageous extravagance that meant King Ruben could never be accused of favoring his human son more than the others.
By the time Eric tried to persuade him to come out, Ix had already started going for his sword and dagger and it was difficult to say no to him when his method of persuasion was to stab at Eric with his rapier until Eric bothered to defend himself.
“Of course not,” Eric said, deflecting Ix’s attack and half-heartedly jabbing.
“Liar,” grumbled Ixthan, stabbing forward with his off-hand dagger. He over-extended it, his stance turning unstable. Eric shuffled back out of the way, and they both pretended it hadn’t happened.
“I went to see Lymond,” said Eric, in what he hoped was a casual tone. It didn’t work, from the way Ix’s eyes immediately narrowed.
“Why.”
“I wanted to see if I could spot the difference now that I know he’s a demon.” Eric lunged forward, smacking the flat of his blade against Ix’s hip. Point. Not one he would have scored if he hadn’t just distracted Ix.
Eric had dueled Ix more times than he could count over the years and could count his number of legitimate wins on one hand. They’d never known how much of it was because of his demon powers but perhaps they were to find that out now.
Amongst their friends, a couple of them could be convinced into a couple of bouts against Ixthan before gracefully retiring, knowing they didn’t stand a chance.
Eric alone carried on being Ix’s steadfast dueling partner.
Somehow, the knowledge that he wouldn’t win was what drove him to get better at it, a masochistic streak that he’d always thought was pride and that Ix had – well, Ix had clearly seen something else in it.
That, and it meant he had an excuse to watch the way Ix moved, the way his thighs flexed with a lunge, the extension of his wrist to show the line of his forearm, the sweat gather at his brow.
“And?” Ix demanded.
“Not at all. He looks human to me. Even knowing about his magic I could feel myself being persuaded that I truly had known him for three years. Are you sure he is safe?”
“Safe?” Ixthan almost looked offended as he rucked up the bottom of his undershirt to mop his brow, revealing the scrunch of muscles underneath. Disgusting, Eric didn’t want to see that at all. “He’s a demon, of course he’s not safe.”
“You know what I mean. What if he decides to try and convince everyone that he’s the real king or something outlandish?”
“He has the power, but he’s…” Ix paused, dropping the hem of his shirt to think.
A shame. “The demon realms force demons to be ambitious, because there is no room not to be. The only way to exist is by being powerful enough to be a deterrent or making an alliance with another and pledging your magic to them in exchange for protection.”
“Like any military force,” Eric pointed out.
“But unlike human kings squabbling for bits of land, demons will simply devour each other,” Ix said wryly. And then snorted: “Besides, Lymond would never bother to convince humans that he is the king because then he would have to deal with bureaucracy.”
“Well, I gave him the truth about you. He said he’d at least think about it. It sounds like his deal with Jasper is purely transactional, he’s not reporting every little thing he knows back to him.”
“Weren’t you busy?” sneered Ix as he regrouped for a second bout.
Eric flicked his rapier up into a guard position. “That’s what I wanted to say. It sounds like you’re becoming fast familiar with him. Like you’d like to be friends, don’t you think?”
“Jealous?” Ix knocked his blade down and locked it against Eric’s rapier hard enough that it jarred his wrist.
“Not unless you’re also fucking him.” Eric could feel his heart pounding against his chest, nothing to do with their fencing.
He wasn’t sure they were at the stage of talking about this aloud like this yet.
He glanced out of the window nervously. These gardens were reserved for royal family members only so there was no risk of anyone seeing Ix without his demonic features but it would have been just his luck if Jasper had walked past to hear him talking so openly.
Eric cleared his throat hastily. “Anyway, he made an interesting observation. His magic wasn’t working on me, which means that your spelled necklace is still working.
Which means that your magic exists, somewhere, even if it’s not inside you. ”
Knowing Ix’s fighting style so well was to Eric’s detriment now. Ix went for a disarm, a clever little move that usually hooked Eric’s rapier out of his hand, and Eric reacted to the speed he knew Ix normally had. Their hilts clashed; Ix’s sword arm stuck for a heartbeat.
“Oh, godsdamnit!” Eric pulled back immediately as his dagger sliced across Ix’s forearm. He dropped both his weapons and surged forward to see and nearly impaled himself on Ix’s still outstretched sword.
“It’s only a scratch, it doesn’t hurt.” Ix shook his sleeve back to reveal a long score the length of Eric’s hand already welling up with blood.
Eric had already yanked his cravat from the pile of discarded outerclothes without a second thought, one hand securing the end of the gray silk in place as he wrapped it tightly around Ix’s arm.
“What are you – ah. Yes, I forgot I couldn’t just heal it.” Ix scowled down at his offending arm as if wondering why it still dared to bleed. “Why are you still holding me?”
Eric’s face flushed red, but it was from anger and not because he was clutching Ixthan’s forearm. Probably. “Because keeping pressure on the wound is what makes it stop bleeding, you idiot.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, I’m sick,” said Ix, his eyes dancing with amusement. Gods, he knew how to make Eric jump straight to annoyed in a heartbeat, didn’t he?
“I hate you,” said Eric flatly. What was even more annoying was that Eric wasn’t allowed to get annoyed because Ix really was unwell, and really did feel like he was going to collapse from exertion at any given moment, if the sudden weight of Ix’s arm in his hands was any indication.
“Well, you definitely can’t speak to me like that.”
“Beg pardon. I hate you, Your Highness,” said Eric with an exaggerated drawl, dropping Ix’s arm and retrieving the weapons he’d let clatter to the ground. He was halfway out the door when he heard the now familiar thump of Ixthan falling to the ground. Gods fucking damn it.
When she finally got there, the healer mage carefully pronounced no change in Ixthan’s magical condition, only in his physical state, and left.
“She means you’ve been an idiot and overexerted yourself,” said Eric, just to hammer the point home.
His arms were aching not just from the duel – gods, he hadn’t practiced enough recently – but because Ix was so heavy.
He was grateful for Ruben’s interference, that more servants waited upon Ix now, but they still were not used to anticipating his every movement as they would with a regular royal position yet.
“All right, nurse,” said Ix from the bed.
His face was a chalky white, his lips pale and when he blinked, his eyes fluttered as though he was fighting to stay awake.
He looked so unlike himself that Eric could barely look at him.
He’d seemed fine less than an hour ago. “Give me that, I’ll have it cleaned. ”
Eric looked down at the stained cravat, crumpled in his hands, unnecessary now after the mage had healed Ix’s arm with only a moment’s magic. “It’s already ruined, don’t worry about it.”
“Eric,” said Ix patiently. Except, ‘patient’ was not a word that Eric associated with Ix.
Any person who had gone through such a large change in their life would behave oddly, this was a thing Eric knew in his mind.
He was behaving oddly, had done ever since his father had been arrested.
And yet, he could not accept it from Ixthan, who had been the only constant in his life.
Eric’s mother had died early, his father had reclused himself and emerged an ugly shell of a person after that.
Even Petra, as close to him as any human could be, was bound to leave him at some point and he was supposed to not only be glad for it but be the one who arranged it and found a good match for her.
Ixthan, of all people, wasn’t supposed to change.
“I know you like that one, come on.” When Ix rolled his eyes and reached for it, Eric pulled his hand away.
He was being irrational, he knew it, but he could not stop himself. He thrust his favorite cravat into the fire and watched it burn. “I said don’t worry about it!”
Ix watched it turned to ash in mere moments, his arm still outstretched. He raised his eyebrows. “Now I know what it feels like, I suppose?”
“What?” Eric was already starting to feel ridiculous for having done that.
Why couldn’t he tamp down on his erratic behavior right now?
And why was it that he could put up with Ix’s jibes and teasing well enough, but allowing Ix to give him a moment of kindness – barely even kindness, basic politeness – felt too much like staring directly into the sun?
“Now I know how you feel when I insist on doing things my way even when everyone thinks it’s foolish,” said Ix dryly.