Chapter 51

“Pardon me? Is that really what concerns you, Sir Gosrick?” Kosha asked, gently lifting the weighty hood from his head.

Gosrick regarded the young mage, now bundled in rustling new garments, as a tangle of conflicting emotions tightened in his chest.

The bitter daytime winds of late autumn had only just begun to howl when Kosha received the new attire that had caused so much trouble. The heavy gray robe had sleeves deliberately cut long enough to drape elegantly over his fingertips, while cleverly designed metal clasps secured the hood against even the fiercest gusts. Ever the consummate professional, Mrs. Christie had immediately recognized that the robe’s intended owner enjoyed her master’s profound favor. With winter fast approaching, she had indulged in the extravagance of sewing a thin yet exceptionally warm layer of fur into its interior.

The result was magnificent winter wear, if rather drab.

Lucien, a man notoriously impossible to please, had accepted the costly addition without a single complaint. Given his recent temperament, he would probably have ordered the garment burned and remade from scratch if it had been carelessly stitched from only a single layer of fabric. The prince had clearly intended to deliver the gift himself, but days of relentless official engagements had kept him tethered elsewhere. As a result, the parcel passed through a tedious chain of hands, traveling from Mrs. Christie to Mailot, who remained confined to his quarters, then to Gosrick, before finally reaching Kosha.

The mage had accepted it with radiant delight, thrilled simply because it was a gift from Lucien.

Watching the boy revel in such a modest present, Gosrick breathed a quiet sigh of relief that his master was not there to witness it. Kosha was tumbling across the bedspread, practically vibrating with excitement as he wrapped himself tightly in the gray wool. Given Lucien’s increasingly possessive behavior of late, the sight of such an adorable, unguarded display might have provoked something thoroughly unseemly.

“You shouldn’t climb into bed wearing your outer clothes,” Gosrick grumbled, desperate to banish his own troubling thoughts.

“But it’s brand new.” Kosha pouted up at him from the mattress.

“New or old makes no difference. Take it off, hang it where it belongs, and wear it only when you leave the room.”

The mage obeyed, peeling off the robe with a visibly disappointed sigh. The boy was entirely too compliant, which only deepened the older knight’s unease. Gosrick clicked his tongue in silent frustration while Kosha carefully smoothed the fabric over a hanger, then turned back to him.

“Anyway, you really don’t need to worry about such things, Sir Gosrick. Is that why you’ve been delaying your treatment?”

It was an innocent question referring to Gosrick’s earlier, heavily censored complaints. Naturally, the knight had not confessed the full extent of his humiliating predicament.

“I am a mage, after all,” Kosha added brightly. “I can at least protect my own body.”

Gosrick stared at him, realizing that the naïve boy had completely failed to grasp the terrifying heart of the problem.

“If you don’t believe me, you can try hitting me.” Kosha leaned in far too close for comfort.

His enormous, unblinking eyes seemed to dominate his pale face. The boy possessed a clear, crystalline beauty that appeared both precariously fragile and profoundly dangerous to any mortal man. Gosrick squeezed his eyes shut and waved him away, struggling to collect himself.

It was a well-established fact that non-humans could charm ordinary mortals simply by existing. Had Gosrick not ruined his relationship with Rosalia all those years ago, he might have had a son Kosha’s age by now. The thought of this bold little brat getting him executed for treason turned his stomach.

“Forget it, kid. You’re spouting the kind of nonsense that’ll get me beheaded.”

If so much as an imaginary scratch appeared on that porcelain face, a certain high-ranking royal would undoubtedly turn the entire continent upside down in a bloody rampage. Kosha, however, merely looked crestfallen by the rejection.

“It really is fine now. I finally feel as though I understand how to cast the protection spell properly.”

“Fat chance.”

The mage’s vague confidence offered Gosrick absolutely no reassurance. More importantly, physical violence had never been the true source of his panic, even if he had disguised his concerns beneath vague complaints about aggression and bodily harm.

The humiliating truth was that Gosrick still had not procured the damned libido-suppressing potion.

Lucien had mercilessly berated him for his incompetence, but the accusation was entirely unfair. Eight of the ten clandestine apothecaries Gosrick had consulted had treated him like a raving lunatic. The other two had bluntly suggested that if he could not control his urges, he might as well castrate himself with a rusty blade.

“And while we’re at it, you need to break that awful habit of staring at people so intensely,” Gosrick scolded, seizing the opportunity to regain the upper hand.

The mage blinked several times, snapping free of whatever trance had fixed his gaze on the knight’s face.

“Oh, I apologize. I wasn’t actually staring at you, Sir Gosrick.”

“Do not tell me you’re talking about that transparent lizard again.”

“It isn’t a transparent lizard. It’s a shining green lizard. It simply remains invisible to everyone else.”

Gosrick’s expression curdled with concern as the boy muttered his defense. The kid was undeniably intelligent, yet he frequently spouted the most unhinged nonsense imaginable.

“It’s clinging to your face right now,” Kosha whispered, his tone suddenly grave. “I think it likes you.”

“Hey, watch your mouth!”

A violent shiver raced down Gosrick’s spine. Hearing such absurd claims delivered with that unnatural, deadpan sincerity made his flesh crawl. He scrubbed his face vigorously in futile irritation while the mage crooked his fingers through the air as though petting an invisible reptile.

Deeply unsettled, Gosrick searched the empty corners of the room before jabbing a stern finger at the boy.

“Stop teasing your elders. I’m old enough to have a son your age.”

“Are you married?” Kosha asked, tilting his head in genuine surprise.

Gosrick opened his mouth to deliver a sharp rebuke, then swallowed the words.

Within the upper ranks of society, married men displayed their status openly. Civilians wore wedding bands, while active knights who regularly wielded swords preferred engraved bracelets. Gosrick’s scarred hands and wrists were entirely bare.

“No,” he answered curtly.

“Was there ever someone you wanted to marry?”

“A long time ago, sure. There was someone…” Gosrick shook his head, dragging himself back to reality. “Wait. Why are we even talking about my personal life?”

He had nearly confessed his most pathetic regrets to a teenager.

Once the knight had regained his composure, Kosha rewarded him with a remarkably coy smile.

That little brat is always testing my limits, Gosrick fumed.

He drew a breath to reprimand the boy, but Kosha abruptly sprang to his feet, his eyes suddenly wide.

“What is it now? Are you trying to flee before I can scold you?”

“I think His Highness has arrived!”

Kosha snatched the gray robe from its careful resting place and draped it haphazardly over his shoulders.

Gosrick knitted his brows at the sudden, seemingly clairvoyant declaration. They had been sitting in complete isolation only moments earlier.

“What kind of nonsense are you spouting now?”

“Come on, Sir Gosrick. Let’s go outside. Quickly.”

Kosha seized the knight’s arm and tugged with surprising urgency.

Suspecting that this was merely a clever ploy to escape confinement, Gosrick nevertheless allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. It was only natural for a boy Kosha’s age to grow restless after being trapped indoors for days. Deciding that he might as well humor the lad during a rare lull in his duties, the knight followed him down the corridor.

The moment they pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the inner courtyard, the truth revealed itself.

A contingent of armored knights was filing through the side gate in the defensive wall. At the head of the formation strode a towering blond man.

Gosrick stopped dead, utterly flabbergasted, while Kosha poked him triumphantly in the ribs.

“See? His Highness has returned, just as I said.”

“How in the hell did you know that?” Gosrick murmured, feeling profoundly dim-witted.

Kosha flashed that infuriatingly coy smile once more.

“Because I can feel his presence.”