He’d noticed the cooks made Milo treats no one else got. Don’t think he hadn’t.
Rowan had also quite enjoyed watching Milo interact with his family over the past week. His boyfriend was clearly enjoying himself, too, developing his own rapport and showing his gratitude for their acceptance by trying to help in any way possible.
To speed the order of materials along, Milo had sent a message to Bearfell, along with a list of materials, using the newly fixed magical postbox. Having been without it for so long, Rowan had forgotten how convenient the box was, and now everyone was using it regularly. It was so much faster than a courier or pigeon could manage. The postbox delivered its letter as soon as the door closed, near instantaneous.
Truly, Milo brought so much magic back into their lives. And he did it all with smiles and charm, as if this was nothing at all to him.
Milo’s order of supplies was actually something Ruben had gone back into Bearfell to help escort up, acting as an extra guard in case more foolish bandits or lurking Drachifel lay in wait.
Rowan had barely caught up with the wagons when Ruben lifted a hand, hailing him. “Rowan! Come here, I need to introduce you.”
Rowan came around the wagon instead, toward his brother, and found two other men standing nearby, both of them dressed in fine clothes that practically shouted that they held high positions. One of them was reasonably attractive—tall, with brown hair and eyes. The older gentleman was a bit shorter and stodgier, with a neatly trimmed thick red beard.
“Rowan, this is Advocate Andrew Latimer and Advocate Bennet Nottle. Both are from the Magic Council Advocate Division. They’re here to follow up on Milo’s report.”
Ah-ha. So Milo’s letter had gotten a response. An incredibly quick one, at that. These two must have rushed to leave the day after receiving Milo’s complaint, which showed how seriously the Council was taking the matter. Good, good. Rowan shook hands with both men as Ruben said, “Rowan is my baby brother—”
Rowan shot him a sideways glare. Why must Ruben always introduce him that way? Bastard.
“—but also Gravegarde’s captain of the guard. If anything goes wrong, run to him.” Ruben grinned, likely knowing he’d riled up Rowan.
Advocate Nottle gestured around him. “Is there a reason why there’s a barrier instead of a ward?”
“Milo’s taken the ward down around the fortress,” Rowan explained patiently. “The barrier is to keep us safe while he works on replacing it.”
“Oh! Smart, smart. Then again, Milo’s quite skilled with magic.”
The way Nottle easily handed out praise, along with the casual use of Milo’s name, insinuated things. “You know him?”
“I do. Worked with him a dozen times already. He’s quick to report problems—which I appreciate—and even quicker to work out the solution without waiting around on me. Which I appreciate even more. He wrote me directly about this issue, and after pulling the records from the previous mages sent up here, I was able to verify his testimony. None of those mages had stayed up here very long, which told me all I needed to know. I came up to do an inspection, but also to get more details from all of you on what those previous mages did—or didn’t—do.”
“We’ll be happy to tell you everything.”
“It was a long trip,” Ruben interjected with a charming smile. “Why don’t you two come with me. I’ll show you to guest rooms, and you can freshen up some before dinner.”
“Sounds heavenly,” Nottle said cheerfully.
Advocate Latimer frowned for some reason. “Is Milo working on the ward right now?”
“He is.”
“Where?”
Whereas Advocate Nottle had seemed friendly about addressing Milo so casually, something about the way this other man said Milo’s name put Rowan on edge. Rowan also didn’t quite like how intent he was on getting Milo’s location. There was something about the man’s tone, his body language. Rowan frowned. Milo had mentioned his ex’s name was Andrew, but surely this man wasn’t the same Andrew? Andrew was a common name, after all. Rowan didn’t want to leap to conclusions.
Still, he didn’t like this man’s interest in his boyfriend. “Near the fortress. Go settle in first. You can speak to him at dinner.”
Rowan switched focus and went to the carts, directing what things should go where. With people clear on his instructions, he planned to return to the northwest side of the fortress. Milo was over there, inscribing the ward’s symbols into one of the bastions. This apparently took more than a bit of time, as he’d been working on that one corner for most of the morning. Rowan now had a better idea why Milo said inscribing symbols would take him the better part of a week. It was quite tedious work.
Rowan stopped by the kitchens first, for a thermos of tea and a hearty snack. Knowing Milo, he was likely peckish right about now. Lunch had been two hours ago, after all. Rowan moved with ease through the fortress, popping out a side door that delivered him to more or less where Milo worked.
There he was, standing at the very corner of the fortress, one hand on his hip—and arguing with someone? Rowan couldn’t yet see who. His first emotion was unease because Milo wasn’t the argumentative sort. He didn’t choose conflict most of the time; he liked communicating to solve problems. This didn’t look good. Rowan couldn’t hear what they were saying, the wind kept snatching their words away, but he heard the tone. And the tone was ugly.
He lengthened his stride, quickly catching up, and after a moment was finally able to see around the corner and who Milo argued with.
Advocate Andrew Latimer.
Fuck, so he really wasthatAndrew.
