Page 11 of By Mistake

He finished his cup of tea and spread out all his sketches.

He'd hoped to find his mother's original spell, but all he'd found was notes that didn't make much sense, everything was so advanced.

But between those and the books, he'd pieced together what he needed.

Three interwoven circles filled with symbols that were a mix of things he understood, things he sort of understood, and marks entirely foreign because, well, he shouldn't be messing around with this kind of magic.

But if people were going to hate him anyway, were going to spurn and reject him no matter what, why not just do what he wanted? Their opinions couldn't get any lower, and he wasn't summoning anything dangerous, so what was the harm?

Right. Ready as he was ever going to be.

Gathering everything up, he headed through the archway in the center of one wall, into the room where all the actual casting was done.

Permanently etched into the stone floor was a series of three concentric circles, guides for any spellcasting, since drawing perfect circles could be one of the most annoying parts of the whole process.

Arranging his notes, he took the first page and his sketches of the first circle and set to work.

It took him hours just to do the first one, at which point he had to take a break to stand and stretch and go get some food.

Somehow, in all his preparation, he hadn't truly appreciated how much time it would actually take—and the next circle was larger, and the final one larger still, and then he had to do the marks that wove all three together.

No wonder summoning wasn't common magic. His hand was going to fall off before he reached the halfway point.

Was it worth trudging all the way upstairs for food? Up the ladder, up the stairs, make food, eat food, clean up, trudge back down… nah, he had some snacks with his tea tray. Those would suffice for now. He'd eat, rest, do the second circle, and then go upstairs for a proper meal and sleep.

The tea had cooled, but he'd ceased to care about that sort of thing a long time ago. It still tasted fine, and went well with the little sandwiches he'd made with the remaining smoked ham and some mustard.

If only he could eat like this always, where even his snacks were filling. Where he had enough food to indulge in snacks. Maybe once he'd found somewhere to settle, a new home, a place where he could actually get work…

A place where he'd never see Oresti again, but that was probably for the best. Fiddling with his necklace, he made his way to the old bed and wrapped up in the blanket and pillow he'd brought down the last time.

Thanks to the protective spells, the bed was in good condition, just the right amount of softness and still smelling ever so faintly of lavender.

He lay down intending to simply relax, but when he jerked awake sometime later, it was with the distinct impression he'd lain down for more than a few minutes. There was no way to tell for certain all the way down in the basement, but given how rested he felt…

Well, at least he didn't have to worry about anyone noticing his absence.

Even Oresti would probably assume he was out working or something.

Guilt still churned in his gut, that Oresti might be worried about him.

He couldn't remember the last time anyone except his parents had been worried about him. Strange feeling.

For the present, though, he had to focus on the circle.

Heaving out of the bed, he trudged back into the spell casting room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and fixing his mussed hair.

His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it as he knelt, checked his notes, and set to work.

When he was half done, though, he had to concede defeat.

He needed food, maybe a bath, a chance to really move around and stretch out his sore, cramped muscles.

Sighing, he dusted off the chalk that had gathered on his hands and clothes, collected the tea tray, and headed back upstairs.

He was nearly to the kitchen when he heard voices, freezing—and then relaxing as he registered Greivs and Oresti. Heart thumping faster for an entirely different reason, he continued on his way.

"—still missing, if I have to hunt down Farthing myself—"

"I wouldn't recommend that," Andrus said. "Why do you want to hunt Farthing down?"

Oresti spun around, relief flooding his face. "There you are. Where have you been? I came by last night, but everything was dark and cold. You were still missing this morning, and no one at the market or around the neighborhood had seen you. I was worried Farthing had kidnapped you—or worse."

He…he really had been worried . Andrus wanted to cry. Blinking rapidly, he set his tea tray aside. "I'm so sorry. I'm not used to people knowing or caring where I am. I've been down in the basement working on some things, fell asleep, must have slept for hours."

"What in the world were you working on that you fell asleep down there? On the floor? With no blankets or anything?"

Behind Oresti, Greivs looked more than a little amused.

A smile twitching at his own mouth, Andrus stepped in close enough to tentatively rest his fingers on the sleeve of Oresti's beautiful dark green jacket.

"There's a bed down there, a spare room from days when extra staff was hired and room was limited.

I've just been going through the house, seeing if there's anything left to sell off, tidying up, that kind of thing.

I can't find work anywhere, courtesy of Farthing, so I while away my time puttering around this poor house. "

To his complete astonishment, Oresti stepped in close and swept him up into an embrace.

He smelled like expensive cologne, dark, spicy, and utterly decadent.

Andrus wanted to smell it on his bare skin while he was spread out on silk sheets.

The thought made his face go hot, but he didn't spurn the embrace.

No one had hugged him like this since his mother, and toward the end, she hadn't been able to.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "There's never been anyone who cared where I was. "

"I'm just glad you're all right," Oresti replied, letting go and stepping back, leaving Andrus feeling cold and bereft. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving. Food was going to be my first order of business."

"Well, both of you sit," Greivs said before Oresti could speak. "Oresti isn't any better at remembering to eat. You're both ridiculous. Sit down and I'll attend the food, so I know you won't just shove bread and meat down your gullet and call it done."

Oresti rolled his eyes, but didn't otherwise comment, dutifully sitting at the kitchen island with Andrus. Reaching out, Oresti snagged the invitation Andrus had left there and managed to completely forget about until this very moment. "What's this, then?"

"An invitation to the winter solstice ball.

No idea why I received one. It doesn't seem like something Farthing would engineer.

" He shrugged. "Doesn't matter, anyway. I don't have the clothes or the carriage or anything else required to attend a royal ball.

" He also would be long gone, but Oresti didn't need to know that.

Andrus had planned to simply vanish in the night, but maybe he would write a letter explaining everything. He could post it to the police headquarters, and Oresti wouldn't have to worry about him, could forget about him.

If only…

Didn't matter. All the wishing in the world didn't make them reality.

"I can—"

"No," Andrus cut in, mouth curving. "You've done enough for me; you're not going to dress me up for a ball too.

A royal ball, at that. The money I would need to dress appropriately for such an affair would keep me in food for the rest of this year and all of next, if not longer. Your money is better spent elsewhere."

Oresti huffed, but didn't argue, and before Andrus could tell him to stop plotting like he knew Oresti was, Greivs set three plates on the island and poured three cups of a wine that Andrus knew had not been in his pantry.

"This smells amazing," he said, taking in the chicken, roasted potatoes, and steaming green beans. Also foods he hadn't had in his stores. "Did you bring me more food?"

"Maybe," Oresti muttered.

Andrus's heart lurched in his chest. This man.

Running away and never seeing Oresti again would break his heart, but better a broken heart than a dead man.

"Well, thank you for bringing me more food.

I can't deny it's nice not having to spend every moment of every day wondering if I'll be able to eat even a single meal.

There have been many days when my only meals were tea. "

"No one should have to live like that, not when there's plenty of money to feed everyone in this damned city. I'm tired of wealth hoarders, and the royal family right at the top."

Finishing a bite of the best chicken he'd ever tasted, Andrus replied, "The royal family is the most generous wealthy family in the city."

"Yet people still go hungry. They could easily set up a program to ensure everyone in the city is fed, housed, and clothed, but…"

"I would wager it's the council that keeps blocking that effort."

Oresti shrugged irritably, stabbing at his food.

"It is," Greivs said, looking at Oresti in faint amusement.

"Each member of the royal family has personal funds, but the vast majority of royal wealth is controlled by the state, and they can't spend it without approval from the council.

It's to prevent corruption and repeating mistakes of the past, but certainly it's frustrating that the council wants it hoarded for their own use. "

"Don't even get me started on the Council of Entitled Asses," Oresti muttered.

Andrus smiled. "Don't think I've ever seen an investigator so invested in the inner workings of the royal palace. Do you feel obligated because you're named after the prince?"