Page 16 of The Mage’s Rake (Catkin Trilogy #2)
Alan
O f course, Hugh’s interest was more than piqued by the mention of sex-filled rituals.
When anyone discusses moon magic and the more quaint traditions of rural folks and peasant conjuring, they immediately think of burying silver, slicing off warts, dancing around bonfires, and having sex.
Of course. Like most city-bred Sunna, Hugh was no doubt entertaining all manners of misplaced imaginings.
I was tempted to correct his misconceptions, but recognizing that there was a mild bounce to his step and an excited flick to his tail, I held my tongue.
The glimmer in his light brown eyes told it all.
Hugh was clearly cheered up… and I preferred him that way.
We need as much cheer as possible given what lay ahead of us: investigations and more investigations.
There was the question of the assassin. Even now, Hugh and I were waiting on messages from Gareth and his secretive pack of spies.
Having given our reports, all that remained for us was to wait.
Wait and consider the conundrum of Hugh’s curse, which I was now certain, more than ever, was linked to the assassination attempt earlier in the year.
Perhaps even the same culprit for Hugh’s earlier lapse into heat.
Just thinking about that night with Hugh woke a flutter in my belly.
It had me wondering whether the ritual would end up being something similar to that evening.
If revisiting that moment would once again draw us into a world of heat and passion.
Overthinking it was rather silly, but I couldn’t help but blush thinking about those memories.
I sighed and focused on the matter at hand—returning to the castle and preparing the rending ritual.
“Very well, Hugh,” I said, turning away from the sigil-marked tree.
“But there are a few things that I will need to attend to tonight and tomorrow morning, so perhaps tomorrow night would be better,” said Hugh slowly. “Would that be alright, Alan?”
“That would give me time to prepare.”
I turned about and gazed warily at the forest that surrounded us.
The trees stood quietly in drifts of snow like sentinels—watchful and waiting.
The shadows shifted, and rustling in low-lying shrubbery ended with the quick half-flight of two pheasants startled by our voices.
I shivered, swamped by a sense of unfriendly watchfulness.
“These woods have eyes,” I muttered in a low tone.
“And ears, I don’t doubt,” agreed Hugh. “Let’s return to the castle.” He raised his voice and said, “We have other matters to attend to, after all.”
Giving me a meaningful look, Hugh led us back to the road, and we returned to the castle.
The rest of the day and the next, we spent apart.
I researched the ritual I had told Hugh about.
Although I had spoken of it blithely, I knew that I would have to ensure that everything was just right.
Otherwise, Hugh and I would be enjoying a night of passion and nothing more.
I blushed furiously as my mind strayed yet again.
Visions of Hugh with his muscled arms, his teasing tongue, and rough hands…
and lower, his magnificent cock that had brought me so much pleasure.
My own stirred a little at the memory as my skin prickled with anticipation.
Swearing quietly to myself, I scowled at the thick tome before me.
This was my personal compendium of all things magical.
Over the years, I had added more and more information, tales, sigils, and rituals between its ancient leather covers, forcing me to rebind it at least six times.
Unlike other mages in the White Tower, I had an insatiable thirst for knowledge.
Nothing was too lowly for analysis… Which was why I had various arcane and traditional rituals faithfully copied down.
No High Mage worth their salt would ever attempt moon magic.
Yet, I prided myself on my knowledge, and I was not about to allow Hugh to die simply because I was too proud to dabble in so-called “bucolic conjury.” Hugh was worth it.
Not only was he Landis’s right-hand knight, but he also brought much cheer and stability to the king’s court.
All of the guards and nobility loved him.
His absence would leave a scar on Rimefrost, I was certain.
And a scar on my heart , I sighed. No. I must not allow the curse to take hold. This ritual may be the answer we are looking for.
With those thoughts in mind, I focused on my preparations, reading through the ritual, brewing two special potions for Hugh and me, selecting my garments, rehearsing the dance, and completing breathing exercises.
I enlisted Aileen’s aid in adding music.
On the way, I visited my group of patients, discussing their health and the doses of potions they required.
Afterward, I was summoned to the king’s side, where we debated ways to ease the suffering I had seen in the Lower Rime.
As a result, the hours fled by like minutes.
Before I knew it, it was dinner time. Unlike usual, I opted to take dinner with the others in the main dining hall.
Landis and Corrin were there, as was Hugh.
At the sight of me, a muted, but welcoming, cheer rose.
I waved back, feeling a little awkward, but then I noticed Hugh gesturing to the empty chair beside him.
I slipped into it gratefully and spent the rest of dinner talking about court gossip, everyone’s Wintermas plans, and the possibility of further snowfall during the night.
Afterward, instead of sitting with the other toms to smoke a pipe or sip a tankard of ale, Hugh followed me back to my laboratory where I finished the last touches to the two potions I had prepared earlier.
Hugh took his favored seat to the right of the hearth, allowing me the space to move about freely.
We discussed the news he’d gathered that afternoon—or the lack thereof—concerning the old molly we had failed to locate.
Apparently, it seemed as though she’d disappeared into thin air. Hugh was worried.
The more I considered the conundrum, the more concerned I became as well.
Like Hugh, I was worried that the molly might be considered a liability.
If she had done work for rogues, footpads, and smugglers, with criminals of the undermarket, then it was all too easy to believe that someone had decided she was better off dead.
Hugh had a feeling. I was worried, but I also knew that no amount of concern would bring the mysterious potion maker to us.
I had to focus on what I could do, such as the ritual.
Not that I ought to be overthinking something as simple as a bit of moon magic.
I caught myself at that thought. Moon magic, when done right, is no laughing matter , I reminded myself severely.
It is incredibly potent, and if it is the answer to Hugh’s problem, I’d best tackle it with all of my focus.
“Are you worried about tomorrow?” Hugh’s quiet question broke into my thoughts.
I looked down and realized that I had overworked the moonblossom petals I had planned to lightly crush.
Without a word, I tossed the contents into the fire and pulled out another small handful of petals.
Suddenly, two hands looped around my waist, and Hugh’s broad shoulders braced me in quiet comfort.
I put the pestle down and allowed myself to exhale a soft sigh.
“I’m fine, Hugh,” I finally said.
“I can tell you are not,” he whispered in my ear. “You are sprung tighter than my favorite bow and fit to snap at this rate. Don’t burn yourself out on my account, Alan.”
I turned then. My hands rose to cling to his soft wool doublet, and I leaned forward to rest my forehead on his broad shoulder.
I wanted to lose myself in his scent, the smells I had come to think of as home.
The thought of losing even those small things was unbearable.
I f I failed… If we could not break the curse…
If Hugh could not fulfill whatever nonsense the curse required…
I forced myself to calm down and then turned back to the work at hand.
“I’ll be fine, Hugh.”
“If it’s about the ritual… If it’s too difficult—“
“I’m not worried about the ritual, honest.” Somehow, I managed to keep my voice even. “The ritual is simple enough. Easy enough for any mage of the White Tower. No fear about that. I’m just… worried for you is all, Hugh.”
“That’s… You’re worried for me?” Hugh asked, mildly shocked.
He released his embrace. Instantly, I missed the heat of his body against mine.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” I grumbled.
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Either way… Tomorrow.” I half-turned to smile up at him. “It’ll be over tomorrow.”
If I had my way, this entire thing would take place in May when the warm spring breezes would herald summer, neither too cool nor too warm.
That would be when there would be greenery, fresh grass, and a yellow sliver of moon overhead.
It would be—magical. In the depths of winter, however, Rimefrost was far from suitable for a proper outdoor moon magic ritual.
I opted for the second best place—my chambers.
Unlike other noble rooms, my chambers were plainer, but I also had access to a large covered balcony that connected to my outer room.
This happy combination had allowed me to transform my receiving rooms into a library-cum-greenhouse, crammed full of herbs and plants requiring specific nurturing.
It would provide us with the perfect cozy space for our ritual.