Sex Wizards - Mastery Ch. 05

Ice blue eyes skim over Arlon's letter, his expression carefully neutral. When he's finished, he hands the letter back to me. "You may tell Grandmaster Arlon that my answer remains the same," he says. "He was unable to extract information about Diran Barclay's whereabouts the first time, and I have no faith a second time will prove fruitful. Besides, by the end of the month, he will no longer have to worry about Jaret Voss and Lucien Carter."

I feel the heat vanish from my face. Oh fuck. Of course this is about the rogue wizards. It takes me a second to find my voice, and I hope to the gods I'm addressing him correctly. "I'm not sure what you mean, Sire."

The look he gives me is hard as stone. "I will send notice when the execution date is set," he says. "Be sure that Grandmaster Arlon is informed."

I bow again, my heart in my throat. "Yes, your Majesty."

#

"There you are. I was just starting to worry," Arlon says when I enter his office. He's seated behind his desk, going through a stack of spell notes. He's got a log book in front of him that he squints down at through a pair of spectacles. When I don't answer, he looks up. "What's wrong?"

I hand him back his own letter first. He frowns as he takes it, and that frown deepens when I tell him what the king said. Arlon runs a hand over his face as he leans back in his chair, looking tired. "I was a fool to turn Jaret and Lucien over to the royal authorities so quickly," he says. "The interrogation I conducted on the road was less than my best."

I bow low and it's enough to get a small smile out of him. "Speak freely."

"Do you think they know something?" I ask. Allisande, Margeurite and I have had no luck divining anything about Diran. It's been infuriating knowing that Diran is still out there yet turning up fuck all in spite of our best efforts.

Arlon's expression darkens. "I'm sure of it."

"Then why the hell won't he give you a second shot at them?"

Arlon sighs. "You're still new to Straetham politics," he mutters, sounding, somehow, even more tired. "The Barclays are tied to the crown of the kingdom of Immenbach on the coast. They're a powerful house, holding a large amount of land and wealth. Though they swore fealty to Straetham generations ago, recently... fractures have been appearing. If Thermilious allowed us to interrogate the captured wizards - if we found Diran, it would put him in a... precarious position. Retaliation against Diran could start a war with Immenbach, though the Barclays have patently refused to condemn Diran's actions. So, instead of entertaining that whole mess, Thermilious refuses my petitions and hopes that Diran has the sense to stay away, or return to the safety of his home for good."

I stare at Arlon, my hands clenched into fists. "Diran kidnapped and raped his cousin and four others! And Thermilious is just going to sit there with his thumbs up his ass because he's too afraid of pissing the Barclays off?"

Arlon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "So it would seem," he mutters. "This just means we'll have to find him another way. As far as I'm concerned, the fact that Diran's a disgraced wizard of the Crux means that this is a matter of magical importance. By the king's own decree, that means it is my jurisdiction."

Anger simmers behind Arlon's eyes, and I can't stop a shiver. I remember that look from when we first found the goblin hovel Diran had made into a prison. "I intend to find him. I'll apologize to Thermilious later." He sighs, and the anger is replaced by weariness. He pulls his glasses off and rubs his eyes. "I'm sorry Dom, I didn't realize you would encounter the king during this trip."

My grin comes out crooked. "Well, sir, you missed nearly bringing me to orgasm in front of him by a whole five minutes," I say. Just after I had left the palace, the damn plug had started buzzing again, so intense that I thought I was going to finish like I had in the baths last night.

He gives a bark of a laugh as I hand over the other missives. I smile, flushing with warmth at the sound. I don't think I've ever heard him laugh before. "There's an urgent one from Cairish on top, sir."

Arlon gives a longsuffering sigh and slices through the wax seal with a small dagger on his desk. It's like he already knows what it is. He barely reads it, but his brow furrows anyway. He scoffs and tosses it onto his desk in disgust. "Certainly not urgent," he mutters. "Just another threat from the Cairish Shykh claiming I have corrupted his son. Every time a caravan passes by the desert, he sends an urgent missive to remind me."

I can't stop a grin. "To be fair, sir. If he's at the Crux, you probably have."

Arlon snorts. "No more than you, I'm sure," he says. At my questioning look, he says, "The shykh's son is Olbric."

My voice emerges in croak. "Oh."

Arlon chuckles and gets up, coming around his desk to plant a kiss on my forehead. "Was going into town as bad as you thought it would be?" he asked.

"Not until that last part," I admit. Looking back, it seems silly that I had been as nervous as I was. Arlon pulls me against his chest, and his arms are a comforting weight around me.

"I'm glad you're back," he says. "You missed lunch by over an hour."

I sigh and sink against him. "I'm glad to be back, sir." Today was a whole lot of people and a whole lot of talking after not talking for half a week. Not to mention one very nerve-wracking conversation too many. But then I remember the one thing I didn't do.

"Oh hell."

"What?"

I groan and bury my face into his thick shirt. "I forgot lunch."

Arlon strokes my back before his hand slides up my neck and into my hair. He grips hard and pulls my head back, surprising a gasp out of me. He tilts my head aside, and I tense, but he only presses a deliberately soft kiss against my neck. "Then we'll just have to wait until after dinner to take a trip downstairs."

I shudder at the promise in his voice. His mood hasn't gone anywhere while I was away. "Yes, sir."

#####

Author's Note: I don't think I ever gave an explanation of the swear "thot" here. I know what it means. It sort of means the same thing in the context of this story. I wanted a slur that came off as less gendered than "slut" and thot sounded just medieval-y enough to fit the bill. Basically, in the context of this story, it's a slur that non-magical folks use to describe wizards, and it's so rude that wizards don't even use it against each other.