“I thought you were going to leave me,” said Eric. Since they were baring their souls and all. “When you walked toward that mirror, I thought you were going to the demon realms and eschew this one and that would be that.”
Ix looked startled, as if the thought had never occurred to him. That was gratifying, at least. “I wanted to know if I could do it. I would have crossed over, crossed back.”
“You wouldn’t have stayed?” Eric had to ask.
“I would have visited my mother. Spoken to some of my other siblings. Only for a time. But knowing that Icould, any time I wished to, was the real prize.” The wistfulness was evident in Ix’s voice. It had never occurred to Eric that Ix would have other full-demon siblings. That opened his mind up suddenly, the realization that Ix had a whole other life that could have been that Eric had never seen. Had never even asked about.
Eric pulled back suddenly. “Wait. I know someone who might be able to help. Not with the casting of magic exactly, but in the… organization of it. Brother Ramsay, I told you about him. He can see magic.”
Lost in the wash of everything else that had happened in the last week, that little comment about seeing the demonic inside Eric. The embarrassment that had caused Eric to omit this from his tale had also blinded him to the implications of it. Ix laughed when Eric recalled it.
“The demon hunter priests. I never considered them but yes, they might prove useful as some of the few humans who can sense magic without being possessed,” murmured Ixthan thoughtfully, his thumb rubbing distracting circles against Eric’s hip. “Still. I’d have to get Ceron’s agreement first. I dread the idea of turning up to beg him, of all people, for help and he just laughs in my face. Anyway, put that thought away for now. Come appease me, your prince is greatly displeased you’re thinking of another man right now.”
Eric rolled his eyes and leaned forward to shut Ix up.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ERIC HADN’T EVERthought he would be here with Ix. From the outside, the building resembled a run down tavern that already had a few patrons, an establishment that catered to those degenerate enough to already require drink even though it was barely mid-morning. However, Eric also knew that was only the surface of it, the inside of which catered to a very different sort of degeneracy.
“You’re sure this is the place?” Eric asked. Ix usually kept an eye on his brothers, both of them, from a distance using a similar spell to the one in Eric’s necklace, and he’d noticed before his magic disappeared that this was where Ceronzar had been holed up the last few months.
“If he hasn’t moved since I lost access to my spells. He’s a prince and he attends this kind of place?” muttered Ixthan as he got out of the carriage. An ache struck Eric in the chest, though Ix wasn’t to know that Eric himself had been here before. “Aren’t there any cleaner or classier taverns around?”
Eric stifled the urge to laugh. “That’s your concern? It’s a front, Ix.”
Ix was dressed in his best approximation of civilian clothes, they both were. But where Eric could ambiguously pass as a merchant with a plain shirt and unfitted breeches, Ix somehow still exuded the air of nobility. It was pointless to tell him this because it was in the way he held himself, but then Ix was hardly the only noble patron this place had.
“You’ve been here before?” Ix glanced at him, and then back at the dingy room, and then back at him.
Eric shrugged. “Occasionally.”
A gleam of interest sparked in Ix’s eye, enough for Eric to know he was thinking lewd thoughts about him. He snorted, and reached for the door. He’d have to spill the details of it later, since there was no chance Ix would forget to dig into it, but that was all right. He wasn’t going to have much need for coming back now, he suspected.
“Give me your ring,” said Eric, gesturing at the band that lay on Ix’s pinky finger. The smallest of the amber set, originally sized for a lady’s hand. Ix raised his eyebrow, but pried the ring off his finger and dropped it into Eric’s palm as he headed toward the bar.
“A drink, sirs?” asked the barmaid as Eric took the lead.
“We’re looking for a room,” said Eric. The tavern part of the molly-house really was just a tavern, though Eric had no idea how the drinking patrons could remain ignorant to the other activities happening in the back.
The barmaid, who was actually a waifish young man skillfully done up in a dress and wig, raised his eyebrows. “It’s a bit early, sir. The entertainment won’t start for a few hours yet.” Code, presumably, to let him know the workers – the prostitutes – weren’t taking patrons yet.
“To be more specific, we’re looking for an occupant of a room,” said Eric apologetically. Molly-houses operated on discretion. They kept themselves safe by using no real namesand turning a blind eye to their guests, and it worked because the people who came here could trust the establishment not to rat them out. Even inquiring whether someone else was here went against the way they worked.
“Afraid we don’t do that,” said the barmaid warily.
“I know,” said Eric quickly. “Hear me out. I understand you have an occupant with a standing reservation on a room. If he’s in, give this to him and ask if he wishes to take a visitor today. And we’ll take two ales.” He pressed the ring into the barmaid’s hand, added a couple more coin than necessary, and smiled winningly.
The barmaid pocketed his extra coin after serving them at least, which was a good sign. Eric gestured to a booth in the corner, and steered Ix over so they weren’t left standing as he disappeared into the back.
“Have you just given away one of my royal heirlooms to a strumpet?” asked Ix curiously.
“He wouldn’t be working the bar if he were a strumpet,” said Eric primly, and sipped his drink. For some reason, Ixthan found that funny. Eric ignored the way the easy curve of his lips sent a warm buzz through his body. It was just the ale, probably.
“So you’re very familiar with this place then.” Ix wasn’t subtle.
Eric shifted in his seat. If anyone he knew spotted them and knew the tavern’s nocturnal activities, he would be exposed immediately. It was why he’d picked this booth; it had a high back so none of the other patrons had a good view of them. Still, he felt uneasy sat here, in broad daylight. He’d never arrived earlier than midnight before. From this angle at least, the only way someone might recognize them now would be if they were going into the back of the tavern, people who already knew about the likes of the molly-house.
“Somewhat. The downstairs is spectating only. I’ve never used a private room.” One of the reasons Eric had never told Ix about this place was because he hated how he sounded when he tried to justify it to himself. He’d never have taken anyone upstairs because that would have disrespected his unspoken arrangement with Lydia, but at least most people who visited prostitutes had the intention of fucking them. Instead, he could come here and be anonymous in a dark room and just watch? Somehow, that seemed more pathetic.
