6. Chapter Six #4
“Your aer,” Viau remarked, quiet, noticing before Rafi did that Rafi was reaching out to draw more aer to him. Rafi had barely sucked in a breath when a calm, firm presence settled into place over him, ending his careless slip right there.
Rafi glanced around the room without meeting any eyes, not sure anyone had seen him reach with his aer aside from Viau.
Viau watched Rafi try to calm himself. “Is that your control problem? Usually, it’s that people forget to watch their own aer, or spend it recklessly and exhaust themselves.
That’s the third time I’ve seen you draw more to you without seeming to realize you’re doing it.
That is the sort of thing done when someone intends to use that aer, usually for reasons important enough to weaken the spirits of those around them. But you’re no mage. So, why?”
He was more curious than disapproving, which made him quite different from Instructor Lin, who had witnessed Rafi lose control that way several months ago and sent him off to mandatory meditation once a day.
Which had told Rafi the problem was potentially serious, but not actually helped him stop it.
Rafi could hardly pretend that wasn’t the issue with the one person who could see what Rafi had done more clearly than Rafi could.
“It’s not all the time. But yes.” Without his conscious direction as some mages did, he pulled aer that was not his to him.
He didn’t even do anything with it. He had never been taught to manipulate it for anything other than minor healing, or calming himself down, or pushing around small items, as all swersoldi were taught to meditate and feel their aer and allow it to grow strong.
He didn’t need the added strength of aer from the trees or the sky or his friends, yet, for reasons he didn’t understand, his control would falter and he’d draw in whatever was nearest.
“Do you have control now?” Viau released his hold on Rafi as if he already knew the answer. “You’re strong. Your instructors shouldn’t have let this become a problem. At minimum, they should have taught you to do something useful with the aer you gather if you can’t stop reaching for it.”
Rafi gave in to the urge to rub his shoulder and tried to imagine pulling in aer deliberately to heal himself all in one go, instead of using aer to facilitate faster healing.
Strong spirit meant a strong body, meant healing faster.
Any healers who could sense and manipulate aer also learned how to use it speed up healing, although the level of strength required to heal deep wounds would have meant a mage.
And mages did not seem to care about health.
At least not the health of swersoldi. Probably just kings and dukes and such.
“I’m not that strong.” Rafi was going to bruise but at least Viau would walk around with a bruise from Rafi too. “If I were, someone would have said.”
Viau raised his eyebrows but didn’t speak. Again.
He held back all the time, in ways Rafi hadn’t even commented on. And he wasn’t especially mannerly either. At least, he wasn’t always so.
“That is why no one else would do for you,” Viau asked, though it didn’t really sound like a question. But he didn’t give Rafi a chance to press the matter. He bowed his head and said, “Would you like to do this again? That is, do you mind some more bruises and having so many eyes on you?”
Rafi jolted, then looked beyond Viau to the students watching him stare up at Viau like a moonstruck first-year.
But Viau was waiting, so Rafi looked back to him. A bold person like Katoh would challenge Viau in reply, say something like, Are you so sure I’d be the one to get bruised?
Rafi said, “I don’t mind. The bruises or the… the rest of it. Is it strange to say it was fun?”
That got him a grin, light and charming, making Viau look like a handsome final-year with a bright future. “So, you want to, then?” he asked, and this was clearly a question, and a careful one at that.
Rafi spent a moment lost in Viau’s bed, with his knees bent and Viau deep inside him and his fingers digging into Rafi’s thighs, the side of his hip, then back of his neck when Rafi had whined until he was turned and forced down to be taken from that angle.
Rafi liked it that way, he’d discovered. Viau had been most obliging.
Rafi darted his gaze away. “I don’t mind the bruises,” he said again.
He wasn’t sure they were still talking about sparring, then wasn’t sure it mattered.
He might intend to control himself and find someone else, but he wouldn’t mind being back in Viau’s bed.
No, he wanted to be there. That wasn’t at all the same thing as not minding.
But he missed whatever Viau would have said in answer when Instructor Guen yelled at them again—this time for standing there and doing nothing, and Viau went over to Guen with a pretty smile, probably to smooth the matter over, and Katoh and Laure swooped upon Rafi to exclaim over his sparring match.
Then Rafi had to leave to clean and dress for an afternoon course on etiquette around the royal family and did not speak to Viau again.