“So you could pass as human now then?” asked Imogen.
Ix raised an eyebrow disdainfully. “I had no wish to pass for human even when I could not.”
He must have thought about it. Eric had, certainly, even as the person who stood next to Ix if they were out and about,walking. Even people they had never met before would instantly know Ix as one of the two demon princes. He had felt the weight of those stares and they hadn’t even been directed at him. If he had a newfound ability to blend in, he’d be tempted.
“It’s about options though,” said Katherine. “What if you want to spy on someone and not be noticed?”
“I take the lady’s point,” said Ix benevolently. Eric opened his mouth, then shut it again. If the rest of his friends didn’t know about Ix’s sly spells, it wasn’t for him to say.
Most of the group were going to the theater that evening, so they drifted out afterwards to prepare for the evening. Eric and Petra had declined, on account of the mourning decorum, and Ix had surprised them by also declining.
“The mages have declared me a magical anomaly and wish for me to stay under observation,” said Ix so dramatically he could have been on stage himself. “They shan’t find anything, because they are impotent hogs but nevertheless. I shall indulge them for a day and rest up. Perhaps next time.”
If the pointed looks from the ladies were any indication, they did not believe that Ixthan would be resting for a moment.
“You poor invalid thing. Eric will look after you, shan’t he?” said Katherine slyly as he helped her into her coat. Imogen stepped on her foot unsubtly.
Eric gave up. He would never stop blushing at this rate, he might as well lean into it. Sighing gustily as if greatly put upon, Eric said dryly, “As I have done so well since we were boys, yes.”
Their stifled giggles could be heard all the way down the corridor, but they were not malicious, and neither were the lads’ poorly hidden grins as they clapped him on the shoulder on their way out.
Over their heads, Eric caught sight of Ixthan’s expression. He leaned against the wall, watching as Eric saw out their friends as if he were the one hosting. Relaxed, in the way Ericonly saw when he was asleep, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips and his tail flicking gently back and forth. A private look just for him. It was not until now that Eric realized what Ix had been trying to do all along: to look after him as well as he had looked after Ix all these years. Eric just had to let him.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
The weather had miraculously cleared in time for their trip. It had been muggy and overcast the whole week leading up to the day, and Eric had packed in anticipation of rain and mud and being miserable the whole time. Then he’d taken one look at the sunlight streaming in and repacked with more optimistic clothing.
“Aren’t you ready yet?” asked Ix, poking his head in through the door. He’d been experimenting with the look of his new horns over the last few months and had finally seemed to settle on a pair that curled over his temples most of the time. Occasionally, he still forgot about them, like now, and clipped the edge of the doorway with them.
“Yes, yes, almost there,” said Eric, squeezing one last waistcoat in before waving the servants ahead to take his trunk out. Almost six months after his father’s execution, he was beyond ready to shed the all black and gray clothing, just in time for spring to blossom into summer. What Eric hadn’t realized was that Ix had been thinking much the same; he’d simply had a full season’s worth of new clothing in the colors that suited Ericbest – greens, blues, rich browns that complimented his red hair – delivered into Eric’s wardrobe without consulting him.
“You could have brought all of it,” said Ix, looking at the discarded clothes all over the bed with some amusement.
“Could I? And where would I have put it?” asked Eric, looking pointedly at Ix’s four chests already strapped to the carriage as they emerged into the morning air. He felt like a flower, unfurling into the sunshine. Too bad they were about to sit inside for the next few hours. “Oh hells, wait, I forgot my armband.”
Eric’s sole remaining item of mourning, his black armband, was... somewhere in their room. Hidden under the piles of clothing, possibly. He didn’t wear it when it was just the two of them, since Ix cared not for performative displays of mourning a man Eric barely thought of.
Ix stopped him as Eric made to head back inside. “Why bother? No one cares.”
Eric hesitated. A part of him felt uneasy. People would talk, surely. He swallowed down the unease in his stomach and heaved himself into the carriage before he could change his mind. It was silly how his heart pounded at such a small act of defiance. Ix closed the door behind him, then looked at Eric quizzically as he settled himself. Eric shook his head, not knowing how to explain, but Ix reached out, cupping his hand around the back of Eric’s neck and squeezing. The weight of it grounded him, made him remember to breathe, and the scratch of sharp nails against his skin brought him back to the present.
“Thank you.” Eric leaned his head against Ix’s shoulder as the carriage set off, trundling down the palace paths. He was not yet comfortable letting himself accept physical affection in the way of a lover rather than a jovial slap on the back, but then Ix still acted like an offended cat every time Eric attempted a sincere compliment, so they were a good match.
The journey to the country house wasn’t the most efficient route possible. If they’d been just riding their horses, it would have been faster, but between Ix’s considerable luggage and all the detours they were making to pick up people along the way, the trip would take the better part of a day. The closest house was Marty’s, where Todd and Gareth traveled along in his carriage, then Imogen and Katherine in hers, and they had agreed that Aunt Geraldine could ride with them.
The oddest part was when Gareth asked if Damian would be riding with them, and everyone had looked slightly confused, as if trying to remember where Damian had gone. He still came up in everyone’s memories at some point, and people spoke fondly of him. Although Lymond hadn’t come back to one of Ix’s parties since switching his allegiance to Jasper, he’d come to speak with Ix privately a few times. Ix confided that he might return at some point, but that a solid corporeal form of Damian of Lymond cost a huge amount of magic to sustain for more than an hour or so.
Eric had asked Ix, a few weeks ago, why he didn’t clear everyone’s memory of Damian as he had done with Eric.
“The fewer people who know I’m aware of a rogue demon’s existence without reporting him to the Magisterium, the better.”
“Oh. Yes, that’s obvious now you say it. So, just me to go down with your ship if this all goes badly then?” Eric had asked, bemused.
And so it remained a secret between the two of them. And Archie, he supposed. Which meant that now, Eric had to pretend that everything was fine with his friends even when Damian stopped reinforcing his memory magic and their perceptions of him started to unravel under the weight of some logical thinking. He hoped Damian would come back soon.
Eric nodded off against the warmth of Ix’s shoulder at some point, jolting awake as the carriage ground to a halt. Only Ix’sarm draped around his waist stopped him from sliding off the seat. “Mnrgh. What’s wrong?”
