1. Sage #2
Cautiously, Sage stepped farther into the room as the door closed behind him.
The perimeter was lined entirely with shelves covered in books, though it appeared some also held a variety of jars and small canisters.
A sleeping hearth took up a large part of one wall; before it sat an elegant, yet comfortable, chaise lounge and a small table.
The desk was the focus of the space. It was enormous and completely covered with books, magical ingredients, and more papers than he could even begin to count. A trio of candles burned on one corner.
Sage finally brought his attention back to the man standing behind the desk.
Roger appeared at ease in this space that had clearly been built just for him.
His hands were clasped in front of him, and he wore a friendly smile that almost hid the pinched lines of worry between his brows.
He sat again only after Sage had settled in his own chair.
“I trust that your journey was an uneventful one?” Roger glanced over his shoulder out the one window behind him that was propped open and not covered by thick drapes. “The weather has been fair for travel.”
“Only if you enjoy being trapped in a sweltering carriage and perspiring through multiple layers of clothing for several days,” Sage returned cheekily.
Roger’s bright grin faded a little. “Oh dear. The heat can be as unpredictable as the rain this time of year, I’m afraid.
I’ll see to it that a bath is drawn for you at once, and that you are provided with a chilled pitcher of water to drink.
I hope you’ll be most comfortable now that you are here. ”
Sage fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Roger would run a most welcoming household with cool drinks and nice smells and beautiful flowers.
“Why am I here?” he asked, fishing the letter out of his pocket once again and tossing it onto Roger’s desk. He did not want to keep it, so returning it to the sender served him just as well.
Roger picked up the letter and stared at it for a moment before he set it aside on a stack of papers to his right.
He seemed to consider the question as though he’d been wondering the same thing.
Roger placed both of his hands flat against the top of his desk and appeared pensive before he met Sage’s stare across the desk.
“I realize that you have reasons to dislike me,” he began carefully.
Sage huffed out a laugh, but remained quiet otherwise, too interested to hear what he was going to say to interrupt.
“I think you know that I could easily say the same. But part of my reason for inviting you was to see if we might be able to…to settle our differences somehow.”
“I do not see how that is possible.” The answer was simple.
Roger winced, but went on. “I can imagine that you are still hurting from?—”
“Do not pretend to know that you understand how I feel,” Sage snapped.
This conversation was about to be over before it truly began. Sage gripped the arms of his chair and moved to stand. He was not going to sit and be lectured on his own broken heart by the man who helped make it happen.
“I would never,” Roger said in a rush, his hands coming up defensively.
Sage paused.
“Please,” Roger went on, “just let me say what it is that you’ve come all this way to hear.”
With a steadying breath, Sage leaned back and remained in his seat.
“Thank you,” Roger said on a breath of his own; an exhale of relief. He pushed his spectacles up his nose and then laced his fingers in front of him on the desk. “I know that Wyn said the only way things could be resolved between the two of you is if you offer me an apology.”
“No, what he said was that you must accept my apology,” Sage corrected tersely. “Then he would be willing to consider our issues settled.”
To his surprise, this made Roger laugh.
“Yes, that does sound more like him, doesn’t it?”
Sage did not join in his amusement. Roger quickly sobered and continued.
“I will never be able to understand how you feel. But I want you to know that I do understand why you said the things you did. I consider myself most fortunate to be close to Wyn, and if I thought I was going to lose him, I would be trying everything I could think of to prevent it, too.”
Sage curled his lip. “How lucky you were to be favored in that endeavor.”
Roger pressed his lips together in a rueful grin. There was no use in either of them denying it. Sage found it almost respectable that he did not try.
“You said there was another reason my presence was required? I hope it’s a rather good one, for your sake. If I came all this way for you to offer condolences on my loss after so many months?—”
“Yes!”
Roger was out of his chair again, coming around the desk to lean against it, leaving very little room between them.
Sage turned his legs out of the way, brows furrowed with confusion as to why the man needed to be so terribly close.
Roger looked around the room and then gave one final long glance at the closed door before he leaned in even more.
“I need your help with something,” he whispered.
“I’m sure I can’t imagine why,” Sage replied at normal volume.
Roger went on in a hushed tone. “As this is our first summer in the house, it only made sense for us to spend time hosting. Wyn said I could invite some of my friends, and I have, but perhaps a few more than he was expecting.”
Sage’s expression shifted from confusion to curiosity, though it was still guarded. “You’re having a party, then.”
Roger brightened, but held a finger to his lips to indicate that Sage should lower his voice. He peered at the closed door again. “Exactly.”
“A secret party,” Sage amended.
“ Shhh ,” Roger urged. “Yes, a surprise party. For Wyn’s birthday.”
Sage snorted. “This should be interesting.”
If he knew one thing about Wyndham better than most, it was how much he despised being the center of attention at any social gathering.
For a long time, Sage had wondered if he used it as an excuse for them to wander away from a party earlier to hasten their more private moments.
Eventually, he decided it was a genuine discomfort that made him wish to leave as quickly as possible.
They had never talked about it, of course, but Sage could feel it.
“Wyn has been working so hard on everything for the Council since the beginning of the year. I want to show him how much we all appreciate his dedication to the project we’ve just finished, and make him feel as special as he is for a night, surrounded by all the people who love him.”
Sage gave him a long, level look. “And you wanted me to be a part of this?”
“I want you to be a part of this, yes,” Roger corrected with a nod.
“Why?”
“You’ve known him for a long time. Far longer than I have, on a personal level. I want your help to make sure he will enjoy this night as much as possible.”
After a pause, one corner of Sage’s mouth curled into a smirk. His eyes flickered over Roger’s form on instinct, before he met the man’s gaze again. He leaned in this time and finally lowered his voice to a murmur.
“Mr. Wrenwhistle, did you invite me here to fuck your husband?”
Roger’s reaction to his question was worth every miserable moment of the journey he’d just taken. His eyes went wide as he sputtered over his attempt to speak, until finally he managed to choke out a strangled, “ No !”
Sage sat back and gave a small shrug. “More’s the pity.”
Once recovered, Roger promptly returned to his own chair and sat. He adjusted his spectacles again and straightened the sad excuse of a knot in his cravat before he spoke.
“Mr. Ravenwing. You would not be here if you did not still care about Wyn. I believe my letter could’ve said just about anything, and you would still be sitting exactly where you are right now.
I am attempting to do what you have yet to try: apologizing.
I do not wish to live my life avoiding people at social gatherings or wondering what other horrid things someone has said about me without my knowledge.
Therefore, I have invited you to our home in the hopes that you might find it in yourself to also rise above, mend the rift, and rejoin the life of a man you still hold dearly in your heart as a true friend.
If that is not what you wish, then of course you are welcome to stay as long as you need and be on your way.
But if I am correct, then my offer still stands. ”
Sage’s magic was a storm in his chest. He had never felt so angry at someone who was being kind to him before. He wanted to argue; he wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. In the end, all he did was gesture vaguely with a loose turn of his wrist.
“Show me to my room.”