“It was Eric who said you might be able to help,” said Ix, before explaining the situation.
After hearing them out, Ramsay smiled tightly. “You wish to open a way to the demon realms? Your Highness, forgive me but this sounds highly unlawful.”
Ix corrected him. “It is illegal to summon a demon. Otherwise, the law is…” He shrugged. “Ambiguous.”
That, Eric hadn’t actually known. He’d just assumed that Ix had thought he could get away with it, being the King’s son and all. It felt like something that ought to be illegal.
Eric had been watching Ramsay. The priest hadn’t seemed offended or angry at the idea, in the same way that the Magisterium mages would definitely have been. Instead, he was fidgeting, worrying at the hem that draped over his wrists and twisting the ring on his middle finger. Nervous. At what, Eric wondered.
“I suppose… I suppose it does benefit the Temple to make sure such a delicate piece of magic is performed well,” Ramsay said slowly. Eric waited, let Ramsay talk himself into acceptance. “And we certainly want to mitigate any possibility Your Highness is in danger. And from what you have said, nothing in this interferes with my duties, as far as I can tell.”
“Precisely,” said Ix airily. “You may decline, I shan’t force you. But we will do this with or without you.”
“In that case, it would be safer for me to be there than to not,” Ramsay agreed reluctantly.
It didn’t take long to arrange after that. Ramsay went to inform someone that he would be away for a while, and came back dressed in a simple jerkin and armed with a sword. It didn’t look ornamental either, it was wider than Eric’s rapier and Ramsay moved as though he was familiar with having a weight at the hip. He looked amused at Eric’s look, the first time Eric had seen anything other than awkward discomfort on the man’s face. “Did you think we fought demons dressed in robes, milord?”
“Somewhat,” Eric admitted sheepishly.
They ended up traipsing back to Ceronzar’s rooms above the tavern again; Ceron refused to step foot in the palace and honestly Ix didn’t want him there anyway.
“Who’s this?” Ceron wasn’t wearing a shirt again, though he had at least bothered with breeches this time. Then again, putting a shirt on around those wings of his seemed very cumbersome.
“Prince Ceronzar, may I present Brother Ramsay of the Allegreian Temple,” said Eric, the only person in the room who seemed to care about proper introductions and social etiquette. “He has kindly agreed to oversee the ritual.”
That was much nicer than saying that Ramsay was going to keep an eye on the magic that neither Eric nor Ix would be able to see and tell Ceronzar when he was doing it wrong.
“Your Highness.” Ramsay bowed.
“A shame, I thought you’d brought him as my first snack.” Ceron sneered, looking him up and down. Ramsay’s face was perfectly polite. Thank the gods Eric had remembered to warn him about Ceron’s tendency to provoke on the carriage ride over.
The next part felt oddly familiar, Eric watching as Ix traced out symbols in chalk over the mirror they had painstakingly lugged over and up all the stairs. (Ceron had a mirror, Eric had protested, but Ix’s mirror was apparently better, bigger, with fewer flaws in the glass.) This time, Ix explained what he was doing, how each symbol helped shape the magic, pulling it all together like a spell. Ramsay nodded along with occasional questions; Ceronzar looked bored but Eric still caught him looking intently at the symbols.
Much of the discussion went over Eric’s head. Why was he here anyway? He was an outsider looking in for matters of magic; he had nothing of use to contribute to this, aside from his family manor being used to entice Ceron into behaving. He’d rarely seen Ix discuss magic with anyone before, his usual disinterested look giving way to a gleaming glint in his eye. If Eric had showed more interest in magic, would he have found himself on the receiving end of that look? It was hard to say.
Eventually, Ix was done with the demonstration. He wiped the mirror clean and joined Eric on the sofa. His face didn’t betray any feelings, but Eric could sense the tension coiled in his body. He watched intently as Ceron drew the runes on themirror, with a look Eric had never seen before. His eyes flickered keenly between Ramsay, holding Ix’s notes, and pointing at something invisible in the air, and Ceron, who made some adjustment with a huff and a swipe of his fingers.
Eric realized suddenly that it was nervousness. He’d honestly never seen Ix nervous like this before, he wasn’t entirely sure demons were capable of it. It was only because they were in such a strange situation – in a brothel, in the company of both demon princes, about to do something that definitely should be illegal and only wasn’t technically breaking the law because no one had thought of making a law about it – that Eric let himself unbend a little. He put his hand on Ix’s knee and squeezed gently.
Ix started, then looked down at it with some confusion, but when Eric tried to remove his hand, Ix grabbed it and put it back. It was just as well that Ceron and Ramsay were busy with the mirror, because a blush crept up the back of Eric’s neck. Thankfully, Ix was already looking back at the magic working, so he didn’t notice.
“I wondered whether there would be any point bringing Ramsay at first,” he murmured. Close enough, that counted as a thank you for a good idea from Ix.
It took several tries. Ceron would get to a certain point before stopping, reaching out to wipe the runes clean, shake himself out and start over, though each attempt lasted longer before a failure. Ramsay gave a few notes of guidance here and there, his tone gentle despite Ceron’s increasing impatience.
“I managed this my first time,” said Ix mildly. Eric did notquiteremember it that way, but the needling remark was enough to make Ceron hiss at him, his long serpentine tongue flickering in the air. Eric felt himself sink back further into the sofa, despite himself.
And yet, it worked. Ceron furrowed his brow and tried again. This time when Ramsay looked at the notes, he nodded, and Ix let out the tiniest of breaths.
Ceron finished chalking the last rune, grimacing with the strain of holding his unruly magic in place as Ramsay did one final check. Eric still couldn’t see anything aside from the priest looking around at something invisible in midair, but Ramsay seemed satisfied.
“All looks correct, Your Highness,” said Ramsay, and Ceron grunted. Both of them gasped as Ceron released his magic into the spell. It probably looked beautiful or mystical or awfully impressive, not that Eric could tell.
A moment later, even Eric could sense magic was happening. The curtains rustled even though the windows weren’t open and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as if someone had blown across his skin. “Is it working?”
Ix grimaced; it must have been doubly hard for him not knowing either, as the only person who would have been able to tell if the spell was correctly formed.
It wasn’t the same as last time, when Ix had presumably had been tweaking and changing his spell to see what would work or not. Now he had laid it out for Ceronzar to carry out, it happened all at once. The mirror rippled as if it were suddenly made of water, the reflection distorting in a most nauseating way. Wind whipped through the glass, sharp and sudden, chilling the room and Eric was thankful he hadn’t taken his winter coat off.
