Page 23 of The Entanglement of Rival Wizards (Magic and Romance #1)

Elethior sags forward so much I worry he’ll collapse right in half, so I grab his arm and hook it with mine again, the way I hauled him out of the lab.

“Which way?” I ask the receptionist. I catch her name tag now that I’m closer. Nithroel.

Nithroel gestures to the right. “Down the hall, room—”

“I got it,” Elethior says quickly and jerks out of my hold. “I’m fine, Sebastian.”

He walks away, shoulders bunching, and I’m left with my mouth hanging open.

“Don’t take it personally, hon.” Nithroel’s sympathetic smile widens. “We see a lot of stress reactions here. It’s not you.”

It shouldn’t be me, I want to say. It should be a friend or a family member, not his lab partner.

Elethior’s gone now, down the hall Nithroel indicated; he didn’t wait for me. I only came so he’d have someone here if his mom wasn’t okay, and his mom is okay, so… I should go?

But as I stand in indecision, wondering why tension is still gripping the daylights out of me, Nithroel slides something across the desk. Two visitor passes.

“He’s here so often, we usually let him right on through, but give that to him, will you? And pin yours to your coat or shirt.”

“Oh. Actually, I’m not sure I’ll—”

“You’re the first person he’s brought here.” That smile of hers is too analytical. “I’m sure it was hard for him.”

“It’s not like that,” I tell her. “I’m only here… it was bad timing.”

“These things never have good timing.” Nithroel pushes the badges closer. “Room 125.”

I look toward the hallway again, my brow furrowing.

Gods damn it.

I scoop up the badges, clip one to my coat, and hurry down the hallway.

The door for room 125 is open, all the others shut and quiet. I steel myself before ducking inside.

The room is long and narrow, with a raised bed surrounded by medical equipment. That’s where the similarities end between a hospital and this space; the rest of it is a forest.

Plants are everywhere, potted trees and vines tendrilled around the ceiling, rainbows of flowers in vases on every free surface.

The walls are painted a rich hunter green and a brown leather sofa sits opposite the bed next to a sturdy oak table and chairs.

A short bookshelf is stuffed not just with books, but sculptures and picture frames and knickknacks, and the air smells of blossoms and greenery, a quick hit of wilderness in this care facility.

Elethior’s next to the bed, talking with a halfling woman in a lab coat; so, doctor. A human woman in pink scrubs is taking vitals from the person on the bed.

His mom is human, with straight blonde hair cut in a bob around her sunken face, eyes shut. Her chest rises and falls stutteringly.

The nurse turns to enter data into a tablet on the bed when she notices me, clocking my visitor pass with a patient smile. “Are you lost?”

Elethior glances up, his face flipping through a few complex emotions. Like he thought I’d left. Or expected me to.

I hold out the other visitor pass to him. “Nithroel said something about a SWAT team rappelling from the ceiling and arresting you if you’re caught without a badge.”

The nurse flicks her eyes between me and Elethior.

Elethior’s lips form a thin line. He takes the badge. “Thanks.”

“Is she—” I’m not sure what to ask, how to ask it. My shoulders ache with holding still.

“She’s okay. No lasting effects,” Elethior says. He looks at the doctor. “Right?”

The doctor pats Elethior on the arm. “We’ll get her medications balanced so this stops happening, and for now, we’re keeping her under a tight watch. She’ll likely be out for some time, but you’re welcome to stay, as always.”

Elethior’s staring at his mom, gripping the frame at the foot of the bed.

The nurse—whose name tag says Martha—holds the tablet to her chest. “She likes to give us all a good scare. Don’t you?” She drops a fond smile on Elethior’s mom. “Has to keep us on our toes, this one.”

I blow out a long exhale. She’s fine.

She’s fine, and I forced my way in here, into something incredibly private for Elethior.

I back up a step. “Okay. I should—”

Martha smiles at me, that same perceptive smile Nithroel had. “Thio, aren’t you going to introduce him to your mother?”

Oh. Oh .

Oh no.

I shake my head as Elethior pivots sharply from the bed and marches for the hall. “Sebastian. A word?”

Yeah. Several, probably.

He cuts out of the room and I follow, hands bunched in my pockets.

We stop to the side of the open door and my head lowers, eyes on his boots.

Before he can speak, I grind out, “I’m sorry.”

Silence.

I force my gaze up, braced to find him glaring at me—

But he’s frowning.

“Why?” he asks.

“I thought you needed someone with you, but I’m intruding. I’ll catch a bus back to campus.” Fuck if I’m going to use his car now. “I’m… I’m glad your mom’s all right.”

I get two steps away when his hand wraps around my arm.

Like it did at the cocktail party, it freezes me, no fight or flight, no reaction other than complete inertness.

We’re both trapped in that inertia for four full heartbeats. I hear them, feel them in the base of my jaw.

“I won’t be here long,” he tells me. “Enough to sit with her some. Then we’ll go back to school. If that’s okay?”

We’ll go back to school.

Testing the weight of each word, I nod at the room and ask, “Do you want me to—”

His hand spasms on my arm and I think I pushed too far, misread what he was saying, but he releases his hold.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll introduce you.”

This thing has hurtled so far over any boundaries that I’m not sure we’ll ever find our way back, and everything Nithroel and Martha implied tells me that accepting this would be… significant.

Elethior and I are working together. That’s all.

It isn’t significant. It won’t be.

“Sure.” I wince. “But—I don’t want to wake her up?”

Elethior’s smile is sad. “We won’t wake her up. She doesn’t… even when she’s awake, she’s—” His face falls. “We won’t wake her up,” he repeats.

I bite my lips together until pain stabs down my neck. “Ah. Then, yeah, of course.”

Of course . Like any of this is assumed.

He heads back into the room and stops at the end of the bed. The doctor and Martha are still taking readings, but they flash us encouraging smiles when I stand next to Elethior.

The bookshelf is behind us. All the photos are of a younger Elethior with his mom—her arms around him as they smile at the camera, both of them covered in what’s probably flour and laughing in a kitchen; a selfie where they’re wearing hiking gear. Her eyes are bright and clear, and his are, too.

There’s no one else in any of the pictures.

Elethior clears his throat and I whip around. He’s looking at his mom, not at me, didn’t even notice I’d snooped on his photos.

“Mom,” he says, his voice thick. “This is Sebastian Walsh. The lab partner I was telling you about. He—”

“You were telling your mom about me?”

His eyes roll up to the ceiling as a smile bursts across my face.

“ Complained to her about you, more like.” He arcs his eyes around to me. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” My grin, though, is speaking volumes.

Martha suppresses a chuckle.

After a heavy, put-upon sigh, Elethior waves at the bed. “Sebastian, this is my mom. Dr. Rebecca Holmes.”

Holmes. Not Tourael.

“And Martha.” Elethior waves at the nurse, then the doctor. “Dr. Chrosk.”

I smile at them before looking at the woman on the bed, still sleeping.

“Hi, Dr. Holmes,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Martha coos but covers it by clapping her hands. “I’ll have Nithroel get you boys some tea, yes? Take a seat, we won’t be long finishing up with her now.”

She scurries out of the room to Dr. Chrosk’s amused headshake.

Elethior obediently sinks down onto the couch, one arm spread across the back, the other propped on the armrest and cradling his jaw.

I sit on the edge of the couch and have to physically restrain myself from bouncing my knee. “Once they’re done with her, I’m going to set the record straight, just so you know.”

He tips his head.

“Whatever lies you’ve told your mom about me,” I explain. “I’m going to tell her the truth. Can’t have her thinking I’m as terrible as you’ve no doubt said.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a stunned smile light Elethior’s mouth. He watches me in silence, that watching turning to studying the longer it stretches, studying turning to unspoken words I don’t want, can’t handle.

My heart hums, making it hard to get a full breath, so I lean back against the couch and nudge my shoulder where his hand’s nearly resting on my neck.

“Contain your manspreading, Elethior,” I grumble.

A pause.

Then he chuckles and lowers his hand into his lap.

When Monday rolls around, Elethior and I work in silence as thick as it was when we were actively ignoring each other. Only now, it’s sluggish from an added strain of politeness.

It’s all from me. Elethior’s matching me, and what I’m forcing up are mile-high walls.

Days pass, and there are no more pranks. No more jokes.

I ask how his mom’s doing; he tells me she hasn’t had any more seizures but doesn’t elaborate, and I nod and get back to work.

Soon, the whiteboard is full of scribbled ideas, none of them promising.

We use some of our grant money to ship in research on a few ancient conjuration wizards Elethior comes up with.

I pour myself into books I haul over after stints at my library job, pushing the limits of caffeine with how late I stay every night.

Elethior mimics me again, but not like he’s trying to one-up me; this is like he’s gauging my reaction for something.

Which pisses me off.

He’s not even fighting me on our sickening civility. Is this what he’s wanted the whole time? For us to blandly shuffle around each other, working in anemic silence? Fuck him. Fuck him for being okay with this boring-ass dynamic.

And fuck me for being the one to implement it and stick to it.

Can’t be friendly with him. Can’t hold him at a distance. Can’t drop the grant. Can’t escape .