Aster looked at the small vial in his hand, the murky color of it unappealing, and decided it was not yet time to try it.
Nearly two weeks had passed since he’d moved into his new home and Aster had not once forgotten the reason he was there. His dreams would not allow for such a thing. But neither would they provide him with all the answers he needed.
He’d hoped a short respite from his usual hectic schedule would have cleared his state of mind enough for him to have a better grasp of the visions he was shown. Yet, in spite of the bountiful rest he’d acquired, Aster felt no nearer to getting an answer to one of the more pressing questions he still had. Who was it that would one day end his life?
Ever since he’d started having the same dream—the one filled with fire and ruin—Aster had not been able to see the face of the one who would kill him. They remained a shadow just out of his reach and no matter how many of the tricks Aster had learned over the years he tried, nothing would work. Not that he didn’t still have a couple of things left to try.
He looked down at the bottle in his hand, small and delicate and made of glass, with barely enough for a single sip. Aster knew it should be more than enough so long as it was properly made. That was one of the few things he had complete faith in. After all, he’d been the one to make it just one day prior.
Now, as he stared at the little bottle in his hand, Aster considered the risks and the possible gains. He thought of how much there was still to be done. Aster knew then that it wasn’t yet time to take the next step.
He heard someone approaching—the sharp sound of a cane against the polished wood floor of the hall outside telling him exactly who it was. Aster neatly tucked the vial away into his pocket and instead picked up the book he’d been looking over. It was an old journal where he kept notes on various bits of research he’d done over the years. Most of it centered on spells he’d developed and plans for their applications. In spite of how dull it all might seem to most people, Aster found it relaxing to go over such things.
The door to the sitting room opened a moment later and Calixtus appeared in the doorway, only vaguely surprised to see Aster inside. For his part, Aster merely continued to look at the old formulas he’d written within, hoping to find something of use.
“How is your leg?” he asked when Calixtus began to walk towards what was clearly his favorite armchair. Aster had tried it, found it much too soft, and decided he much preferred the couch.
“Better,” Calixtus said, taking a seat. Aster glanced at him and found that he truly looked more at ease.
There had often been a look of discomfort on Calixtus’ face whenever he was on his feet for too long, or when he had to stand after sitting for a while. The chill in the air that became more and more pronounced as time went on and they neared the months of winter had done him no favors. Aster had many talents, both natural and acquired, but perhaps one that had served him most was his skill of observation. Now, he looked at Calixtus and found his relaxed features a sign that Aster was maybe a bit better at crafting medicinal remedies than he’d thought.
“I’m glad to see my paltry skills with herbs were of use,” he said, and heard Calixtus huff.
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I’ve tried several remedies since the accident and none have had much of an effect on me.”
“Then I’m sincerely concerned about the skill level of the country’s medics.”
“Don’t be too hard on them. There’s always a chance it’s the nature of my injuries that makes healing so difficult.”
Aster had considered the possibility. It was one of the reasons he’d added a touch of his own magic to the salve he’d made for Calixtus. Wounds inflicted by magic were said to be resistant to more mundane healing methods. Of course, those sorts of injuries were rare of late. Calixtus was actually a rather interesting subject to test that particular theory on. Aster liked to tell himself that was why he’d bothered to make the remedy for him.
“Did you ever have a mage try to ease the healing process?” Aster asked, setting his book down.
Calixtus shifted in his seat, hesitating for a second before he answered.
“I didn’t,” he said at last.
Aster didn’t have to be particularly observant to realize why that would be. Calixtus had suffered an unusually severe accident, one that had serious consequences—one that had taken something far too important from him. His reticence in seeking magical means of healing was understandable. Aster had wondered just how much of a distaste Calixtus might have developed for magic, and whether it would be a lasting effect. It was one of the reasons he’d kept any usage of magic to a minimum since he’d moved into Calixtus’ home.
“Perhaps it will be unnecessary with time,” Aster said. “It's true that magically inflicted wounds are said to be slow to heal without the aid of magic itself. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen on its own, only that it could take longer.”
“I’m not too concerned about that,” Calixtus said. Aster looked at him curiously and found no sign that the other man was lying.
“You’re more concerned about not being able to use magic any longer,” Aster voiced Calixtus’ greatest worry and watched as the other man shifted in his seat.
“There’s a great deal of responsibility that falls upon me,” Calixtus said after a moment.
“In what way?”
“Well, I’m the eldest. I’m sure you’ve learned enough about me through your research to know that I have two younger siblings.” There was a vague accusation there about Aster’s snooping, but Calixtus was kind enough not to look too upset about it. Which was just as well because Aster wasn't about to start feeling guilty about doing what was necessary.
“They’re in the academy, aren’t they?” He didn’t think it worth the bother to pretend Calixtus was wrong about him thoroughly looking into his background before he’d even met him.
“They are,” Calixtus confirmed. “And they have a lot of potential. There’s a lot they could do—a lot of good—and I want to do everything I can to help them accomplish whatever goals they set out for themselves.”
Aster thought that was a very beautiful sentiment. It was a pity that Calixtus was in no position to do as he wished. Of course, Aster was heavily relying on that.
“You want to get back your position as a knight?”
It wasn’t surprising. Getting such a position took a great deal of work and Aster had no doubt that Calixtus felt a lot of pride in having achieved such a thing, especially given he was not a part of the aristocracy that most often made up the knight’s ranks. More importantly, it was a position that not only paid well, but also came with a fair amount of prestige and could definitely open some doors. To have that would be a good advantage for Calixtus’ siblings to have.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to manage that once this is over.” Especially once he had Aster’s magic to help things along.
“I don’t think I can,” Calixtus said, surprising Aster, to whom he gave a self-deprecating sort of smile. “Even if I could use magic again, I don’t think I’m in any condition to take on the job of a knight.”
No, Aster supposed he wasn’t. He hadn’t lied when he told Calixtus that time would ease the burden of his wounds, but even then, it was unlikely he would heal completely. Not to the point where he would be able to wield any weapon with the same proficiency he had in the past.
“There’s many positions you could secure even if it’s not your old one,” he said in an attempt to take some of the sting from the unfortunate truth. Aster wasn’t sure why he bothered with it.
It was still nice to see the little half smile Calixtus gave him.
“I suppose you’re right. But there’s no point in worrying about it now,” Calixtus said. Then, slowly, his expression shifted into one of confusion. “I’ve been wondering, how exactly do you intend to give me your magic? Won’t you miss it?”
Aster was honestly surprised the question hadn’t been asked earlier. Maybe Calixtus believed him on the basis that Aster had so far kept his word and gave him half on his fortune. Or maybe—and he supposed after knowing Calixtus for a while, it was entirely possible—Calixtus was too trusting for his own good. Either way, Aster doubted his husband would truly want to hear the answer.
So, he smiled. It was the type of smile that probably didn’t make him look particularly trustworthy. One that made it clear he was about to evade something he found unpleasant to talk about, but dared anyone to try to get an answer out of Aster.
“Oh, I doubt I’ll miss it,” Aster said truthfully enough. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. I think the most pressing thing at the moment is your mother’s visit. She’s to arrive tomorrow, isn’t she?”
Calixtus grimaced at the reminder and Aster considered it a job well done.
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