Page 10 of The Mage’s Rake (Catkin Trilogy #2)

Hugh

F ighting to keep my poise, I smoothly picked up my mitts, shook off my boots, and then slowly sauntered over to Alan.

Alan, who looked over at me with wide violet eyes behind his steamed-up spectacles, had a total air of innocence, even as those thin, pale lips mouthed a pack of lies.

I suppressed a snort and instead allowed myself to relax and shoot him a flirty gaze.

My hand ran along his back and up to his shoulder, drawing him into a side embrace, before I whispered throatily in his white ear.

“What nonsense are you telling the poor molly, dear?” I asked smoothly.

My tan fingers rose to caress the pale tan of his smooth chin before I leaned in to steal a soft kiss from him.

Alan stiffened but kept the fond smile plastered on his narrow face.

I gazed into those heated violet eyes and noted the cool, unimpressed look he was giving me before turning back to the Crone.

“You must forgive us,” Alan said with a light laugh that sounded as false as a wooden leg. “It’s been a fairly new… thing for us.”

Thing? He was calling whatever he was alluding to as “a thing”?

“A mild flirtation that got out of hand, surely,” I said easily, giving the Crone an easy wink. “He couldn’t take his hands off me. Very awkward.”

“Hm. Yes. Until your, er, problem arose,” Alan said demurely with a small cough. “Try as I might, even my Mightiest Elixir of Raising could not awaken—“

“Alright, dearest, I’m certain the Crone has no interest—“

“Oh. I’m interested,” the Crone cackled in amusement.

She beckoned to two stools. Alan and I hunkered down awkwardly as she handed out two very plain mugs of water chamomile tea. Sipping her own drink, the Crone looked at us with shrewd dark eyes.

“Perhaps you have some ideas—“ Alan began.

“I am more interested in why the High Mage of Rimefrost and the gallant Ser Starr, the King’s righthand tom, has come to visit my humble home,” she said.

“Surely not to discuss some potion of virility. Gods know I’ve been kept fed thanks to a fair few frightened mamas intent on keeping their daughters barren for the season at court when Ser Starr comes to stay. ”

“Dammit,” grunted Alan. “I was worried about that. If only you could keep it in your pants, Hugh…”

“How was I supposed to know that the ladies of Rimefrost were seeking protection against the power of my seed?” I protested.

Yet, now I was curious. How many did visit the old Crone? Surely not that many?

“There were that… many?” I asked, trying to not sound too proud of my prowess and fame.

“You have no idea, do you?” Alan sighed.

The ancient Crone nodded in agreement. “That is the way of many a tom. Sowing their seed with little thought for the future. Until the day a kit ends up on their doorstep, and what happens next?”

“The girl is blamed, the kit is shuffled off—“

“No one is shuffling off my kits,” I said, horrified. “I hope they would come and tell me at least!”

“Would you marry the molly that got pregnant with your kit?” Alan asked curiously. He had removed his spectacles and was in the middle of drying the thick glass off, so the glint in his violet eyes was unmistakable.

“Of course!” I snapped, indignantly. “I’m a catkin of honor, I’ll have you know, Alan.”

Alan looked away and blushed. His ears flattened a little, clearly chastised, and he slowly nodded, putting his spectacles back on.

“Sorry, Hugh.” Alan turned back to the Crone. “I suppose then the cat is out of the bag. Ser Hugh and I are making inquiries about portions circulating on the undermarket, er, the black market.”

“Ah,” the Crone’s gaze shifted to me. She looked me up and down more consideringly.

“I am not tied to the undermarket, but I have bought supplies from a few catkin who I know are connected distantly. Sometimes they tell me stories. Stories about an odd potion that was ordered and made—by another, not me. And I see that the curse has come to roost. A shame.”

“You recognize it?”

“The disturbance is clear, yes,” the old Crone noted calmly. “A curse. That is my guess, dearies. No doubt related to love if the ingredients are what I heard they were.”

“Shadowmoss, pellerin, and moonblossom.”

“Indeed.” The Crone gave Alan a pleased, indulgent smile as though Alan had said something clever. “That’s the White Tower for you. I imagine you are in good hands, Ser Starr.”

Alan and the Crone talked for a bit longer. The older catkin agreed with Alan that the curse was tied to the full moon. I had a month, the old Crone guessed, to find love.

Fukken hells. Find love? How is that a thing? I shot Alan a disbelieving look, but he shook his head and set his lips in a thin, hard line. I was to find love, the old Crone said, or Alan would have to “rend” the curse. Alan was already leaning toward “rending”, whatever that was.

Eventually, we emerged from the smoky shack, mounted our horse, and returned to the castle.

After the day we had, I felt as though we’d been out forever.

I was exhausted. More so than usual. I shoved my fatigue aside and focused on escorting Alan back to the castle safely.

Thankfully, Alan was probably just as tired as me.

Definitely more cold and frozen than me.

As a result, our ride home was incredibly quiet, which allowed me to muse over the events of the day.

Alan had surprised me. For a long time, I had only met Alan at major court events, and he was always hanging about along the walls.

He never tried to talk to anyone and always left early.

Whenever I was about to have a spot of fun, I’d look over and find Alan glaring at me with such intensity.

If he had fire that could shoot out of his eyes, Alan would have probably left me a scorching pile of ash.

Seeing Alan at a soiree or gala was akin to getting a pile of freezing cold water poured over your head.

Today, however, I saw another side to Alan.

A roguish, rebellious side. An adventurous spirit…

and a kind heart. Alan had not shown fear when confronted by the crazed Munni father.

He had shown kindness, turning away the tom’s wrath with soft words.

More than soft words, a genuine response.

Next thing I knew, Alan was spouting off lies to an old Crone, attempting to behave like a king’s spy. It was hilarious, but also… gutsy.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Alan had begun to blossom. That night at the party, he had saved me thanks to his quick thinking. He’d taken me to bed despite my wild state and had not backed down from the challenge of helping me out when I was hit by the curse.

Alan had taken charge and… Wait , I mused.

Didn’t he also help Corrin get to Landis’s wedding that day the princess eloped?

Perhaps Alan has always been interesting…

courageous… adventurous, and I just never noticed.

The realization hit me harder than I thought possible.

I had always considered myself a fair-minded catkin. How had I become so blinkered?

I was noticing now. I noticed that when we arrived in the courtyard Alan made his way directly to the Munni barracks.

He had remembered his promise to the Munni father and was already focused on fulfilling his promise before the sunset.

The Munni toms were just beginning to rise.

One early riser listened to Alan’s request and agreed to run the potion out for Alan as soon as they finished their breakfast.

It wasn’t hard to guess where Alan was headed.

Sure enough, he went straight to his laboratory, where he carefully measured out the healing elixir he had promised the Munni, and dispatched a servant to deliver it to the Munni guard.

I went and fetched a rather late cold lunch so that Alan would have a bite to eat while he ran more tests on the herbs he had taken from the potion makers we had met today, including a pinch of shadowmoss from the Crone’s stock.

While he ground herbs with his stone mortar and pestle, I sat back and discussed our next steps.

“We’ll have to widen our area of investigation, I think,” Alan was saying, “and root out that black market contact the Crone mentioned. Maybe ask Lord Gareth.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Huh?” Alan’s head popped up as he stared at me in confusion.

“I just don’t want the others to worry. Not yet, at least. In a week or two. I mean, why bother them and ruin their Wintermas when you might solve it tomorrow?” I pointed out.

“I’m not about to solve it tomorrow,” he said dryly. “I thank you, though, for the confidence.”

“In a week or two,” I suggested. “If things get bad, we go to them in a week or two.”

Alan sighed. “Fair enough… but I shall accompany you about to fend off any fainting spells.”

I chuckled.

“Fine,” he huffed. “At least I’d be another eye. Who knows? I might be able to figure out who has been targeting you.”

“You think that both events are related?” I asked.

“I have a strong feeling that they are,” Alan said.

“Someone wants to bed you… or worse, get pregnant by you and trap you into marriage, and when that failed, they snapped. Think about it. They’ve probably been upset for a long while, and the failure at the Earl of Brockhurst’s evening party drove them over the edge. ”

“They sound mad.”

“Probably out of their mind,” Alan mused aloud. “Love does affect people that way. Sweet madness.”

“Or not so sweet,” I muttered. I cheered up as a thought occurred to me. “So if you are to be my bodyguard, then you will have attend Lady Saffron’s Wintermas soiree tonight!”

Hand hovering over a book he was about to pull off the shelf, Alan froze. He turned and looked back over his shoulder, as though he were a deer caught in the gaze of a hunter. I smiled, rose to my feet, and stretched lazily.

“Shall I come round to your rooms before dinner to pick you up? That will be in about two turns of the glass.”