6. Conrad
CONRAD
Conrad thoroughly enjoyed his first full day at the Wrenwhistles’ home.
True, there was an expected awkwardness to being a stranger in a house full of friends.
Inside jokes were bandied about, references to past shared experiences were dropped casually.
But for the most part, Conrad could tell there was an effort to make him feel included.
Breakfast stretched on for a couple of hours, as no one seemed in a hurry to leave the table—although Conrad did notice that Mr. Ravenwing’s presence in the room was short.
Then Roger and Wyndham took Conrad on a tour of the house.
Roger took great pride in showing off the study his husband had designed for his use.
Conrad was fairly sure his own enthusiastic praise of the room improved Wyndham’s opinion of him, but it was hard to tell.
The gentleman had reclined on the chaise lounge in the center of the room to watch Roger explain how his specially-designed desk worked.
Then Roger and Conrad began comparing favorite magical theory books.
Roger had a far more impressive collection than Conrad could ever claim; he felt a small pang at the few titles he had owned previously that he’d sold to help pay for his journey. He ran a hand over some of the spines.
“It is truly impressive,” he murmured.
“You’re welcome to borrow any of them while you are here,” Roger said.
Conrad felt warmth burst within him. “Thank you,” he said earnestly.
“Well, don’t thank me too much yet,” Roger went on. “I’ll probably ask you to cast some spells while you’re here, too. And then Wyn will likely want to see how your magic blends with others’. And if we have time, I’d be curious about your thoughts on the rubric we put together.”
“I would be delighted!”
“Better to wait a bit though,” Wyndham said. “Give you time to rest from your journey.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Conrad assured him. “I’m eager to show you whatever you’d like, or to help in any way I can. Even if I don’t get the position, it would be marvelous to assist you.”
Roger beamed—and then promptly ignored what his husband had just said, encouraging Conrad to cast an assortment of spells for several hours.
Lunch was another unhurried affair, after which Conrad found himself in deep discussion with Torquil and Silas, learning all about how fae-human magic worked.
By dinner, he was feeling prodigiously pleased with himself, having managed to speak to all of the councilmembers for at least some period of time.
He was seated next to Wyndham, who was curious about the different spells Conrad used in his work, and whether he had ever performed magic with a fae before.
Conrad had a feeling that Wyndham was only moderately interested in what he had to say, but he noticed the gentleman exchange a few smiles with Roger across the table.
If he received Wyndham’s approval merely because of his budding friendship with Roger, that was enough for him.
After dinner, time passed similarly to how it had the evening before. A handful of people started a card game, but Conrad was unfamiliar with the game in question, so he sat to the side and chatted with Silas and Torquil. Wyndham joined them after some time, as well.
As much as he wanted to stay up with the rest of the group, Conrad was unaccustomed to such late hours, so he regretfully bid everyone good evening when his eyes started to itch with fatigue.
Mr. Ravenwing was already inside the room, just as he had been the previous night, dressed only in a silk robe and applying oil fastidiously about his person.
This time, however, he seemed to be in a different sort of mood. No sooner had Conrad taken off his jacket, the gentleman whirled around on his ottoman and glared at him.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Moore, but I assure you, you can leave me out of your games.”
Conrad blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”
Mr. Ravenwing scoffed. “It’s bad enough to have to be here. It’s even worse to have everyone teasing me for pleasure I didn’t even experience.”
Conrad frowned, his confusion growing. “I’m afraid I don’t?—”
“Why did you tell everyone that we slept together?”
“We did sleep together.”
Mr. Ravenwing made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. “Why did you tell everyone that we fucked last night?”
Conrad was fully taken aback. “What? I never said that.”
He rolled his eyes. “You must have said something. I’ve had no end of teasing from Emrys, Torquil, Keelan…”
Conrad thought back to all of his conversations throughout the day.
“You told Torquil I was sweet ,” the gentleman spat. “Does that help jog your memory?”
“Oh!” Conrad laughed. “Roger and Torquil asked how last night went and I told them it was fine.” He paused, trying to remember.
“One of them asked if anything untoward had happened. I assumed they were referring to the way we woke up together, so I said I found it rather pleasant. Which was true,” he added.
Mr. Ravenwing gave him a long and irritable look. “That was not what they were referring to, you…half-wit human.”
Conrad held his jacket close to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to damage your reputation. I’ll clarify things with our host first thing in the morning.”
The other man heaved a sigh. “You didn’t damage—quite frankly, clarifying things would be worse. Don’t bother. Just try not to make it more of a mess, if you please.”
Conrad nodded. “Right.” He folded his jacket and then paused. “If they ask again tomorrow, what would you like me to tell them?”
Mr. Ravenwing’s lips pinched together. “I suppose what’s done is done. At least I know now what everyone was getting at. But you should know that anything you say to anyone here will get around to the entire house within a matter of hours.”
“Thank you. It is very kind of you to warn me. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The fae scoffed and turned back to his looking glass.
Conrad continued to undress, relieved that the conversation had ended on a congenial note.
He looked at the last outfit in his bag with some wariness; he’d need to do a cleaning spell the next day if he wanted to avoid wearing dirty clothes.
Perhaps Roger would lend him some of his supplies.
He shoved the bag back under the bed and climbed under the covers, leaving his candle lit as Mr. Ravenwing was still busy applying oil.
He watched with some fascination as the man massaged it into his skin in a languid fashion. He’d been too tired the night before to pay it much mind. Mr. Ravenwing caught his eye in the looking glass and smirked.
“Like what you see?”
Conrad sat up a little in bed. “You’re very methodical. Do you do that every night?”
“Most nights, yes.”
“Hm. I suppose that explains why your skin is so soft.”
Mr. Ravenwing lifted an eyebrow. “Noticing my skin, Mr. Moore?”
Conrad laughed. “Well, I did feel it against my own for quite some time this morning.” He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back against the pillow. “Do all fae share a preference for floral scents?”
Mr. Ravenwing paused in the act of rubbing his chest. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I was given lavender soap for my bath yesterday, which I’ve noticed is what Wyndham uses as well. You use rose oil every night. Back home, most of the humans I know use soap that is much plainer in scent. So I’ve been wondering if it’s an aspect of fae culture.”
Mr. Ravenwing’s expression clouded a little as he frowned in a thoughtful way. “I can’t speak for all fae,” he said at last. “But Wyndham and I have always shared that preference for scents.”
“Have you known him a long time, then?”
“Yes.”
The response was curt and in a tone that suggested he did not want to discuss the matter further.
“Thank you for satisfying my curiosity,” Conrad said. “If I can ever return the favor, do let me know.”
Mr. Ravenwing didn’t respond as he put the lid on his bottle of oil and stood sedately from the ottoman. His robe slipped off his shoulders in a fluid movement and pooled to the ground.
Assuming the conversation was over, Conrad leaned on his elbow to blow his candle out, but was paused by a fingertip grazing his arm.
“Are all humans as muscular as you?”
The question was asked softly, in a voice as silky as the robe that was now on the floor. Conrad turned and smiled at him over his shoulder.
“No, these were hard-earned. I’ve worked on the shipyards for over half my life, carting crates and boxes over the docks. It’s heavy work. But I suppose I’ll lose some of the muscles if I get this position. I imagine there won’t be as much lifting and moving about in the Council.”
“Pity.”
Conrad chuckled. “I suppose it might be, in a way. But I like to think of it as a phase in my life that I’m moving on from. Besides, if all goes well, I’ll be dressing more like Cyril or Silas and then no one would notice my body anyway.”
Mr. Ravenwing pulled his hand away and his brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Cyril? He’s one of Roger’s friends, one of the humans. Very pleasant chap. I think you’d like him. He’s very impressed with your fashion sense, you know.”
Mr. Ravenwing gave a little huff. “There are too many people here to keep track of.”
“It is a lot to remember. But at least they’re all nice.
I was very worried I’d be thrown out on my ear when I arrived.
It never occurred to me that I might be invited to stay for any length of time.
” He turned back to the candle and blew it out before lying down on his back.
“So I daresay I’ll get used to the crowd. ”
The gentleman beside him made a non-commital noise before blowing out his own candle and curling up on his side with a long sigh.
* * *
The next morning, Conrad woke with the sunlight dappling on the covers, and Mr. Ravenwing pressed up against him.
This time, the man’s head was on Conrad’s pillow, with one arm flung across Conrad’s chest, and their legs tangled under the sheets.
Conrad smiled to himself and breathed in deep.
The scent of rose oil surrounded him and Mr. Ravenwing’s body was slight and warm against his.
It occurred to him that he ought to keep one of Roger’s books by his bedside in the future, if he was going to always be so delayed in getting out of bed.
He sighed a little and made more lists in his head: what ingredients he needed to request for his cleaning spells, the best methods for traveling to Roger’s father, the best methods for traveling to London, and a to-do list for when he got to London (assuming he had the position).
Like the previous morning, it took another hour or so for Mr. Ravenwing to wake up.
And, like the previous morning, he snuggled closer before waking, the arm over Conrad’s chest wrapping around his shoulder and Mr. Ravenwing’s face nuzzling against his cheek.
Then the gentleman froze and tensed. This time, however, he didn’t immediately move to the other side of the bed. He huffed against Conrad’s cheek.
“You could shove me away, you know.”
“That seems rather rude.”
Mr. Ravenwing tilted his face a little and his breath was hot against Conrad’s ear as he murmured, “Does that mean you like waking up with me plastered against you?”
“As I said yesterday,” Conrad said, turning to face him with a smile. “I find it quite companionable.”
Their faces were close and Mr. Ravenwing seemed to search Conrad’s expression. Then at last he pulled away with another scoff. “You are the strangest creature I’ve ever met.”
Conrad chuckled as he swung his now-free legs off the bed. “I’ve certainly heard that before.”
“Going down to breakfast at a ridiculous hour again, are you?”
“Yes. Care to join?”
“Certainly not.”
Conrad got dressed and then pulled the rest of his clothes out of the sack. He stared at each item and started mentally calculating how many times he’d need to do his cleaning spells, and how many ingredients to ask for.
Mr. Ravenwing shifted on the bed to watch him. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to determine how many ingredients I’ll need to clean these.”
“Clean—you do realize there are servants here who can do that for you, yes?”
Conrad met the other man’s gaze in surprise. “That didn’t occur to me. I’ve never had servants before.”
Mr. Ravenwing grumbled as he got out of bed.
He scooped up Conrad’s clothes and dumped them into a large basket in the opposite corner of the room.
The gentleman turned to face him and pointed at the pile of fabric within.
“The servants will collect these when we’ve vacated the room.
There’s no sense in you doing their job for them. It’s what they’re paid to do.”
“Thank you,” Conrad said as the other man climbed back into the bed. “Only, where will they put them when they’re done? I don’t want them to think my clothes should go with yours.”
Mr. Ravenwing’s gaze raked over Conrad’s body. “No one in their right mind would mistake us for the same size, Mr. Moore. They’ll probably place them in the wardrobe, but I have no doubt I’ll be able to locate them. Our tastes are decidedly different.”
Conrad laughed and stowed his bag back under the bed. “That’s very kind of you. I appreciate it.”
Mr. Ravenwing flopped back onto his pillow with a grunt.
Conrad paused with his hand on the door handle. “And, as it happens, I’m not sure I’d say our tastes are all that different. I think the way you dress is very fine. Although I’m sure I couldn’t pull it off half as well as you do. I may be many things, but elegant isn’t one of them.”
He opened the door and was nearly out of the room when he heard Mr. Ravenwing mutter, so softly he almost missed it, “Nonsense. You would look very well in a pastel palette.”
Conrad smiled to himself as he proceeded down to breakfast.