Chapter Seventeen #2
“No, probably not.” Eric sighed. Even though there was no note, the silk was a rich forest green.
Ix’s favorite. He reached out and whipped the coverings off.
His sword collection. Eric swallowed. He’d thought he wouldn’t see these again.
They were all here, apart from the two that he’d inherited from his father.
Arranged in the order he’d had them displayed at home too and, infuriatingly, in better condition than he remembered them being in, having been freshly oiled and polished.
There was no note inside either, which meant that Ix would deny having sent it.
He could imagine the poorly feigned surprise when Eric told him about it already.
Which also meant that he would definitely refuse to let Eric pay for whatever it cost to recover these.
That, and the time and effort; when had Ix even arranged to look into it or find someone to recover them?
Eric had been with him most days since and he hadn’t seen him pen a letter once.
He imagined it was a pretty penny, given several of these swords were collected from other countries.
Not to mention the cost of the ornamental ones just from the value of the inlaid jewels.
Which meant that Eric just had to accept this as a gift.
It struck Eric that this was probably why Ix had used the pendant. He must have known that the parcel was due to be delivered and had been waiting for Eric’s reaction.
“Are you feeling all right, Lord Eric?” asked Ned eventually. Probably because he had to stand there as Eric stared at a trunk full of weapons, his eyes getting suspiciously misty.
“I’m going to fucking stab him,” said Eric decisively. His heart was so full he thought it might burst and he was not dealing with it graciously.
“Who, milord?”
“Never mind. Can you arrange to have this sent to my rooms in the New Palace, Prince Ixthan’s wing please?” Eric closed the trunk back up.
“Very well.” Ned didn’t ask any further questions.
Eric got back in plenty of time for tea but just in time to show Petra into the small room he’d taken over as his own study and parlor.
It only made sense if he was taking up permanent residence with Ix.
And if the servants had already started deferring to him for household arrangements that the lady of the house would usually decide, it was just because they were less afraid of him than Ix.
The party that afternoon was a small affair, just tea with only the closest ten or twelve of Ix’s circle invited.
It was a two-fold celebration, firstly to celebrate Ix’s recovery and secondly to give Petra an excuse to leave the house.
It was the first time she’d been back to the palace since the trial had finished, and it was only because Ix had asked her directly to come.
Her make up was flawless, as usual; it was only because Eric knew her so well that he saw the slight sunkenness in her cheeks where she’d lost some weight, and the droop of her shoulders.
He didn’t say anything, but she patted his cheek nevertheless. “I’ll be all right.”
And then she pulled away before he could start fretting, opening the door to his bedroom and peering in before Eric could stop her.
“Petra!”
“What? It’s all decent in here, isn’t it?” She looked around with a frown. “That giant portrait of Ix is gone. Did you remove it?”
“Of course I did. Why would I keep a – you know what, don’t answer that,” said Eric, trying to corral her back out of the room with his arms outstretched. “Petrella! Stop snooping!”
“There’s nothing exciting to see anyway,” said Petra petulantly, “It looks like you don’t even sleep in here.”
Eric froze.
“Aha!” Petra crowed. “I knew it!”
To the hells with propriety. Eric ducked and charged at her as if they were children again, grabbing her around the waist and throwing her over one shoulder as she shrieked.
He dumped her into the corridor and firmly shut the door behind them both.
If his face was red, it was from exertion and surely not embarrassment.
“I see the twins are on form again,” said Ix from just a few steps away, looking bemused. “Evening, Petra.”
Petra lit up at the sight of Ix, throwing her arms up to give him a tight hug. Entirely inappropriate but Eric hadn’t ever seen Ix so startled, his hands hovering in the air for a moment before he patted her tentatively on the shoulders.
“It’s good to see you again,” said Ix.
“Oh, Ixthan! I can’t believe you found them all,” said Petra, taking Ix’s arm as he escorted her into his rooms, the parlor cleared to make space for a long dining table.
Eric caught the tiniest flick of Ix’s eyes at him, and then away again.
“Eric, I didn’t tell you yet, Ix somehow rounded up all my missing paintings and sent them to Aunt Gerry! ”
“Gods! That’s fantastic,” said Eric, squeezing her hand. Then paused. “They didn’t happen to arrive in dome-topped chests lined with silk, did they?”
“However did you know?” asked Petra, slightly confused. “Gosh, there were so many I barely have space to store them all now. Some I’d even forgotten I’d painted.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Eric reassured her, giving Ix a sideways glance that Ixthan was conveniently avoiding. “You could take them with you to the country house, there’s plenty of space there.”
“Excellent idea. I think it’s still decorated with those gauche pastoral paintings of busty shepherdesses Father loved.” Petra grinned at him, the strongest glimpse of her old self Eric had seen in a while.
Other people started arriving after that, exclaiming as they caught sight of Petra.
Eric had expected their mourning blacks to be stark amongst their friends’ usual rich colors but somehow everyone had decided to tone it down.
The room was filled with tasteful muted gray-purples and deep blues, as if they’d all arranged it between themselves.
Everyone greeted Petra, immediately pulling her into their midst and offering up their own news and stories of the last few weeks, and if the cheer was a little forced, no one mentioned it.
“Just in time to celebrate the Equinox with the whole gang,” said Marty, hoisting his glass for a toast.
The familiar strong brew of Ix’s tea – along with a shot of brandy from Marty – went down smoothly, warming Eric as he sat back and basked in the conversation. He usually didn’t participate in the more religious aspects of the Equinox celebrations, but a meal with good friends was acceptable.
Ix’s arm was propped against the back of Eric’s chair; at some point, his hand dipped down to drape around the small of Eric’s back, his hand resting casually on his hip. It was early enough that no one was drunk yet. Eric held his breath.
“Say, if you can change your horns, can you change your appearance entirely?” asked Gareth, too quickly, too loudly. Everyone fell over themselves to chime in too, boisterously cheerful, doing anything to avoid looking at Eric.
If Eric could do magic, he would have opened a doorway to the demon realms and thrown himself through immediately.
He was sure his face was as red as his hair.
He could not have asked for better friends, Eric concluded, which did not make the embarrassment lessen.
Worse, Ix was grinning, his thumb rubbing circles against Eric’s back. That rat bastard was enjoying it.
“Somewhat. The demonic parts are formed of magic but the rest of me is still human flesh. I could create a spell to do it, but it might get messy. The flesh would have to go somewhere,” said Ix. Everyone collectively made a disgusted face and groaned.
“So you could pass as human now then?” asked Imogen.
Ix raised an eyebrow disdainfully. “I had no wish to pass for human even when I could not.”
He must have thought about it. Eric had, certainly, even as the person who stood next to Ix if they were out and about, walking.
Even people they had never met before would instantly know Ix as one of the two demon princes.
He had felt the weight of those stares and they hadn’t even been directed at him.
If he had a newfound ability to blend in, he’d be tempted.
“It’s about options though,” said Katherine. “What if you want to spy on someone and not be noticed?”
“I take the lady’s point,” said Ix benevolently. Eric opened his mouth, then shut it again. If the rest of his friends didn’t know about Ix’s sly spells, it wasn’t for him to say.
Most of the group were going to the theater that evening, so they drifted out afterwards to prepare for the evening. Eric and Petra had declined, on account of the mourning decorum, and Ix had surprised them by also declining.
“The mages have declared me a magical anomaly and wish for me to stay under observation,” said Ix so dramatically he could have been on stage himself. “They shan’t find anything, because they are impotent hogs but nevertheless. I shall indulge them for a day and rest up. Perhaps next time.”
If the pointed looks from the ladies were any indication, they did not believe that Ixthan would be resting for a moment.
“You poor invalid thing. Eric will look after you, shan’t he?” said Katherine slyly as he helped her into her coat. Imogen stepped on her foot unsubtly.
Eric gave up. He would never stop blushing at this rate, he might as well lean into it. Sighing gustily as if greatly put upon, Eric said dryly, “As I have done so well since we were boys, yes.”
Their stifled giggles could be heard all the way down the corridor, but they were not malicious, and neither were the lads’ poorly hidden grins as they clapped him on the shoulder on their way out.
Over their heads, Eric caught sight of Ixthan’s expression.
He leaned against the wall, watching as Eric saw out their friends as if he were the one hosting.
Relaxed, in the way Eric only saw when he was asleep, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips and his tail flicking gently back and forth.
A private look just for him. It was not until now that Eric realized what Ix had been trying to do all along: to look after him as well as he had looked after Ix all these years. Eric just had to let him.