Some indeterminate time later, Eric startled when Petra appeared out of nowhere and gave him a jab in the side. “You need to go talk to him.”
“Gods! Where did you come from?” Eric looked up at her. When had it gotten so dark outside? And how long had she beentalking to Ix? She saw him squinting and lit the candles. “Talk to Ix? What about?”
“He’s just received some letters and one of them made him awfully upset. He held back while I was there but I could tell he was up for a good round of hitting things so I left him to it. Gosh, he does look different without his eyes and his teeth and all that, doesn’t he? A little less majestic, but don’t tell him I said that.”
Eric made a face. There was a thud in the near distance, which meant Ix had definitely escalated to throwing things. “Gods, I wonder if it’s from Lymond.”
“Damian? Oh no, have they fallen out?” asked Petra. Ah, Eric had forgotten that Lymond’s spell had only been broken for him. That meant she probably still remembered their good friend Damian, who had been at court for three years. He should probably tell her, but he’d shelve it for later.
“Um, somewhat. It’s complicated, I’ll tell you later. I’ll go talk to him. Thank you. And I’ll ask if I need any other help with the estate. And don’t forget to think about what you want to do with the country gardens.”
“Of course. The other note was from Gareth by the way, some of the others are on their way over soon.”
Eric pulled back properly from his desk. Petra looked like she was on her way out. “You aren’t staying to say hello?”
“Not tonight, I don’t think. Make my excuses for me?” said Petra ruefully. “I know they mean well, they sent flowers to the house and all, but I’m not in a lively mind and I don’t want to bring the mood down.”
Eric understood. At least Petra had somewhere to run off to – it would feel too deliberate if he didn’t at least pop his head in to greet them if he was only down the corridor. “Yes, of course. They’ll understand.”
“Thank you. You’re doing a good job. Here, and over there,” she said, gesturing in the direction of Ix’s rooms. She pressed akiss to the top of his head and left him to it. Eric hurried down the corridor as he heard another noise.
“I lost him. Fuck!” Ixthan swore. He was pacing up and down the room, hands clenched. His hair was unbound, rolling down around his shoulders unstyled since he wasn’t exactly leaving his rooms these days. Eric wanted to press his face into it, feel the fullness of it against his skin. But then, that wasn’t a new thought for him; he shook it off.
Eric let Ix cuss it out before asking: “Who?”
“Damaris. Damian. Whatever the fuck he wants to call himself.Lymond. Jasper got to him while I was languishing away, made him some sort of deal that let him get out from under mine. Damnit!” Ix picked up a stone paperweight from his desk and hurled it across the room.
Eric no longer even batted an eyelash at this outburst – Ix used to have five a day when they’d been younger, adolescence not being a phenomenon that demons usually had to deal with. Apparently they just formed, completely cognizant and largely formed of singular emotions. It said something of both Ix’s temperament and habit that this paperweight had been magicked to reappear on his desk whenever that happened. They both didn’t mention how Ix’s strength was so compromised that the stone made a dull little thump instead of its usual harsh crack.
“Damaris? Is that his real name? What did he say?”
Ix pointed at the offending letter, crumpled on his desk, and then threw himself into a chair so violently it rocked precariously onto its back legs. The reply was unhelpfully in some demonic script which presumably Ix could read and had forgotten that Eric couldn’t.
“I wanted to learn more pure magic from him. His understanding of raw energy is unlike anything I’ve even heard of from the Magisterium,” said Ix with a groan. Somewherebeneath the anger was a sense of despair, of longing, of having something he had deeply coveted so close and yet so far. “There’s so much the Magisterium doesn’t know, because their only experience of magic is through demonic summonings that I didn’t even knowhowmuch they didn’t know.”
It took Eric several moments to parse that particular sentence. He still wasn’t sure he got it completely, but it seemed a convoluted way to call his father’s mages ignorant. He would have to put that aside for now, since he didn’t know enough about the Magisterium to verbally spar with Ix the way he’d want. And if there was a tiny part of him that was jealous at how passionately Ixthan spoke about Damian… well, Eric was very good at repressing it.
“And what’s this deal with your brother?” asked Eric. Trying to keep Ix on track to get the full context of a story was like pulling teeth sometimes.
“I haven’t a farthing, he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me. I have no idea how he got out from my binding oath.” Ixthan scowled, his anger turning the tide into petulance. Eric always thought he was cute when he did this, like a pouting child, not that he would say that to Ix’s face.
“You tried to strike a binding oath with – never mind, of course you did,” said Eric. “You could just ask him.”
“What?”
“Just talk to him. Become friends, instead pretending to be friends. I’m sure he also wants to speak to someone else who is a demon in this world of humans,” said Eric. “You could exchange fun stories over tea about the demon realm, or demon queens, and so on.”
“Fun stories.” Ix’s face soured as though he’d sucked on a lemon.
“Yes. Sarcasm aside, you should take my point. I know he’s a demon and I am definitely the last person you should take adviceon communicating with demons but starting with binding oaths and threats of exposure won’t endear you to him.”
“Become friends,” repeated Ix, as if it were a completely foreign idea.
“I know you know how to do it, because despite everything I’m still here,” said Eric dryly.
“You don’t count, I never had to try to make friends with you, you have simply been baked into my existence for as long as I can recall,” retorted Ixthan, and it probably said something unflattering about Eric that he found that quite endearing. Ix must have caught whatever soppy expression crossed his face, because he snorted and kicked his foot out so that it lightly tapped against Eric’s thigh. That was practically a demonstration of affection coming from him.
Eric waited him out. Usually easy because Ixthan had the patience of a horsefly.
