“Dinner later would be lovely,” she said. “And I’m happy to wait. We need to work up an appetite, right?”
Rawlins had feared sleeping together would create tension between them, but it seemed to put Ellsbeth more at ease, as thoughthey had simply found the norm that should’ve existed between them all along.
“Sounds good,” he said. “I planned to cook for two, but I didn’t want to presume, in case you had other plans to scamper off to.”
“You’ve got me all night,” she told him, leaning across the kitchen counter.
“Good to know.” Unable to help himself, he stepped toward her, closing the distance. Seeing her in his home filled him with an instinct to keep her there. Then he asked, despite himself, “So I get Friday, and the runner got Saturday?”
Ellsbeth cocked her head. “I’m sorry, was that…jealousy? Over me?” He shook his head at her teasing but she continued, clearly enjoying herself. “Out of all my academic achievements, I think that making Professor Thaddeus M. Rawlinsjealousof a med student might just take the crown.”
“I’m not jealous,” he said. “Only curious about your life.”
“There’s no one else,” she said, sincere now, and they shared a look that caught his breath in his chest.
He broke from her gaze and let out an exhale, trying to keep his head clear. “Our best bet, for your ritual, is upstairs.”
As he led the way, Ellsbeth’s gaze lingered on every detail of his decor. “So now I get to see the forbidden second story, huh?”
“If we’re going to study forbidden rituals, we need to get you comfortable working outside of the Practicum,” he said as he climbed the stairs, showing her down the second-story hallway.
“Oh, really? Isthatthe reason we’re doing the ritual in your bedroom?”
He paused at the door and shot her a look. “It’s notmybedroom, it’s the guest room. Would you rather return to the Practicum? And for me to keep my conduct as professional as that would require?”
She shrugged. “You didn’t seem to have a problem in your office.”
“I’m the only one with a key to my office,” he replied. He opened the door to the guest bedroom, which featured a four-poster mahogany bed with a carved headboard. Ellsbeth studied the inlaid design. “It’s an antique, so try not to break it,” he told her. “And I chose this space based onyourritual. You need four solid corners to secure thelimbs of the subject. If you prefer, we can go outside and put down stakes in this configuration? Otherwise, give me a hand.”
He stepped to the opposite corner of the bed, and they pulled it a few feet away from the wall, which would make it easier to mark off a circle that held the four corners entirely within its circumference.
Ellsbeth assessed the space, looking at the foot-high clearance under the bed. “This is perfect, actually. It provides an elevated platform, so I can place the activated elementals underneath, right?”
Rawlins nodded. “You need low candles, which can limit your durations in some cases, but for what you’re doing tonight, this will be fine.”
He showed her over to the roll-top desk in the corner, opening it to reveal a printed copy of the ritual she had emailed him, along with all the elementals it called for: various metal ingots, beakers holding liquids, candles, and incense.
“Thank you,” she said. “For getting all of this. I mean, I know you said you would, but still…I appreciate it.” Her genuine gratitude took him aback. Rawlins realized that Ellsbeth was not accustomed to feeling like she could count on anyone. It made sense, in a way; she was a smart, self-sufficient girl who had experienced tragic loss. She had moved mountains by the force of her will, and had been let down by life again and again in a thousand ways that made her feel small.
Rawlins’s heart tightened in his chest, and the temperature of his feelings toward Ellsbeth somehow rose by yet another degree. He wanted to earn her trust as no one ever had. To show her that she could be supported and taken care of in a way she had never dared to ask for. But he feared the day would come, inevitably, when he disappointed her, and it would be very painful for them both.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Shall we?”
Working off the instructions Ellsbeth had typed up, they began preparing the ritual space.
It was a double binding, or in a sense, quadruple. The previous writ magic ritual she crafted pulled the subject’s wrists together, but that was a single effect, while this one would act on each of the limbs in a different direction. Ellsbeth had crafted a neat solution, so the new ritual was only slightly longer than the last.
“I was thinking: If this works, it will open up a range of possibilities,” she said. “You could combine multiple effects and sequence them. Make someone do…whatever you want.”
“In theory, yes,” said Rawlins. “The limiting factor is complexity. The more specific the behavior, the more involved the instructions and the magic. Try actually writing the ritual—it’ll make you appreciate how involved it is to do something as simple as make a sandwich.”
“I don’t want asandwich,” she said, brushing past him as she returned to the desk to check her calculations. The brief contact filled his nose with her scent, and he could not help but follow her to the desk.
“You have good instincts,” he told her, tapping the paper she was writing on. “There are scholars working at high levels in our field who might be able to produce this effect, but never with this degree of elegance.”
They worked together fluidly, their bodies negotiating the limited space as she took measurements and he set the elementals in place. The connection between them was electric, a palpable charge that quickened Rawlins’s pulse every time Ellsbeth came closer and extended into yearning as she moved away from him.
He had conducted rituals at home, but never with anyone else present, and he was surprised by the ease he felt at seeing her move around his space. It was a dance they fell into seamlessly, both discovering that their bodies already knew the steps.
