They stayed like for what seemed like an unnecessary length of time. The two demons presumably had some way of speaking to each other and Archie could communicate with Damaris without words so the only person stewing in silence was Eric.
Eventually, Damaris lowered Ixthan onto the floor, who grimaced and rubbed his neck and then threw himself into a chair as casually as if he hadn’t been two seconds away from suffocating. Damaris shrank down into his Lymond form, which Eric presumed was for his benefit given no one else seemed to care.
“I can confirm you have no magic, nor any connection left to your magic,” said Lymond. “I know not of any further way to help you.”
“But you said his magic isn’t gone, not completely,” said Eric, holding his necklace up as a reminder.
Ixthan held a fingertip to it. Nothing happened. Ix tried again, and looked at Lymond. “I no longer have the sight.”
“There was no magic to see,” said Lymond. He glanced at Eric, his expression so blank Eric had no idea how he had ever thought him human. That was his only warning before the demon thrust a hand towards him; the fireplace flared up high and a ball of fire shot out from it at him. Eric threw a hand up without thinking and heat sizzled against his face. He flinched back, then felt a bizarre pressure in the back of his head until his ears popped, and then it was gone.
“It works still,” said Lymond, casually. “But the magic is held within the object, it does not come from you.”
Eric laughed uneasily, wafting away the smell of smoke with shaking hands and trying not to wonder whether Lymond would have extinguished the fireball if the spell hadn’t been fully working.
“So Prince Ixthan’s magic is definitely here, but unreachable,” said Archie thoughtfully. “What about the wards?”
“Also still working,” said Lymond after a moment’s pause. “Interesting.”
“Interesting how?” demanded Ix.
“No full demon could survive this. If I were separated from my magic, I would cease to exist, and so would all my magic workings as they are a part of me. You are better off asking one of your mages about this, I would not know. Demons do not use magic in this way. It would be akin to if I chopped off my finger and put it in a pendant for you.” Damian shrugged. He flickered, then disintegrated. Eric had to look away again as Damian melted, his face and body and hands distorting into an oozing black puddle that slithered into the shadows attached to Archie’s feet.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more help, Your Highness,” said Archie, bowing nervously. Eric had no idea how his stomach didn’t lurch at the sight of the demon like that.
“Yes, all right, go,” said Ix with a scowl, waving his hand.
Archie drew something out of his pocket uncertainly. “I think you should have this back, Cousin? It doesn’t seem fair. We appreciate it though.”
Ixthan scowled at him and made no move to take it so Archie left it on the table as they left. Eric picked it up after the door closed and examined it. He recognized it, a gold ring inlaid with a tiny amber stone. It came from a matched set of ten items of jewelry, which included his necklace; he vaguely remembered Ix giving it to Archie when they’d bumped into him in the palace library a few months back.
“I suppose they have no use for it because they work for Jasper now,” said Ix, throwing himself into a chair with a huff. Eric hadn’t realized Ix had been holding himself so aloof forArchie and Damian until he pressed his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes. Eric came up behind him, tentatively pressing the heel of his palm into the meat of Ix’s shoulders. Tense. He dug his thumbs in to the knot he felt.
“I don’t care,” Ix clarified, though he did lean back into Eric’s touch with a groan that coming from anyone else, Eric would have called obscene. “They can pick whichever hellsdamned prince they wish to align themselves to. The tracking spell on the ring would have been useful though. If only I could activate my magic to use it.”
Eric tucked that thought away: he wouldn’t be surprised if there was something similar on his necklace. “Do you wish to ask the Magisterium for help again?”
“No. I’ve given them all I can bear to, I’m sure they could find a way to take Lymond’s information and exploit it for their summonings. I’ll have to do the research myself. What about you, how were the estate managers?”
Eric told Ix about Brother Ramsay and the horrific sums his father had swindled from the Temple. The expression on Ix’s face implied that if Eric’s father was not already dead, he would go kill the man himself. Though neither of them had good news to give, Eric found this comfortingly domestic. He leaned his head against Ix’s shoulder and Ix’s hand fell naturally on his thigh, as if they had been doing this for years.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE NEW YEARcame, and went, mostly unnoticed. Between his father’s affairs and Ix’s continued lack of magic, Eric didn’t have the time nor temperament to think of a celebration. He visited Aunt Gerry and Petra for a quiet dinner and toasted them both, and then retired to Ix’s rooms early.
Ix had been in a mood too. The King hosted a midnight ball with a different theme every year, resplendent with musicians, dancers, fire jugglers and the like. The last few years had included impressive displays of magic from the Magisterium, colorful illusions of animals that ran through the air. Ix had an unspoken rivalry with them, always attempting to outdo the entire crop of mages by himself. Last year, he made the water from the fountain swell over the crowd, turning every drop into ice sculptures that hung in the air before the water hit anyone.
But Ix’s condition was a secret from the court still and so he had to make his excuses. Eric put up with his sullenness for just about an hour before declaring himself too tired to deal with it all, and went to bed before midnight even hit.
Since the revelation of Lydia’s letter, Eric had found himself spending the nights in Ix’s rooms without even discussing it. Itsimply felt natural, that they might be having a discussion in the parlor and then would continue it all the way to the bedroom. Being alone in Ix’s bed without him felt strange though, Eric kicking his legs out grumpily only to find an empty swathe of sheets. He lasted for another half hour after that before stalking back into the study to tell Ix to at least sulk in bed, where Eric could borrow the heat of his body.
Progress had been slow, with only dead ends to show for anything Ix tried and Ix’s patience was running thin. The mages’ recommended meditations had no effect either, though Eric could not tell if that was because meditation was useless or because Ix was pigshit at doing it.
Ixthan had no concept of sitting still and being quiet for an extended period of time. Every attempt ended up with Eric, seated and balanced on a cushion, doing his breathing in and out, and Ixthan getting bored and alternating between getting up and stalking around the room like a caged wild animal, or rolling his head onto Eric’s thigh and distracting him.
“I’m only doing this for you,” said Eric, exasperatedly smacking Ixthan in the face with his cushion as Ix traced his hand unsubtly up Eric’s calf. Admittedly, he was very prone to being distracted. Ix was shirtless again, pleading that he was an invalid, he’d had been far too tired to get dressed properly this morning. It wasn’t unusual for Ix to parade around in a state of half undress, but he’d been doing it far more since they’d fallen into bed together and it felt childish to accuse him of doing it to rile Eric up, though they both knew that was why it was happening.
“And I appreciate that,” said Ix pressing his hand over his heart in a disgusting mockery of sincerity. “But we know it’s not working. The mages just gave me something to do to get off their backs as they panic in their ignorance.”
