Having been caught, Nezael quickly looked over Yorick’s shoulder like it had been his intent all along. Given the way Yorick was still smiling, however, he didn’t buy it. Nezael cleared his throat. “How long have you lived there?”
Yorick sat cross-legged, resting one hand on his knee while the other scratched the underside of his chin in thought. “Three years now, I think?” He shrugged. “Place was vacant and the town said I could have it if I made firewood and hunted for meat in the woods.” He glanced at the doe. “Think this is safe to use?”
The magic was all but gone. “Likely,” Nezael said.
“What about you?” Yorick settled a soft look on Nezael and Nezael’s heart jumped. “Are you really some shy wood nymph slinging magic and saving poor saps like me?”
The absurdity brought a chuckle out of Nezael’s throat. “Maybe,” he said and delighted in the way it made Yorick laugh. It was such a warm sound so unlike his lord’s. Endearing, especially the way the motion made his eyes twinkle.
The trees rustled overhead, breaking the moment, and Nezael peered upward. The sky was streaked in orange. He shot to his feet, nearly falling forward. “Oh. Oh no. I have to go.” It was late. Much later than he’d thought. He turned, intending to run, but paused as Yorick’s hand found his.
“Wait,” Yorick said and Nezael looked at him. “You didn’t give me your name.”
Nezael smiled. “My name is Nezael. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nezael.” Yorick tested it and Nezael stopped himself from shivering in delight from how it sounded on his lips. Yorick gave Nezael’s hand a firm shake, but when he let go, he was patting down his tunic. Curiosity kept Nezael there and Yorick produced a pair of mittens from an interior pocket. “Your hands are cold. Here.” He handed them over. “The little old ladies in town make me so many, but be sure to bring those back for me sometime, hm? They’re my favorite.”
They were a dark burgundy, smelled of cloves, and most of all, warm from being so close to Yorick. Nezael slid them on, hardly resisting another smile, and nodded. “I’ll bring them back soon, Yorick,” he said, testing the man’s name on his own lips.
Yorick gave him a shy little grin and without another word, Nezael hurried away to beat the darkness home, all too aware of the way Yorick watched him go until they could see each other no longer through the trees.
Nezael returned to the tower with the night sky, out of breath, and found his lord frantically throwing on a fur-lined cloak as he hurried outside. The tower’s warmth escaped with the opened door, and the orange light inside was shining on Carrow when he sighted Nezael. For one second, Nezael was sure he saw fear in his lord’s eyes, but then it melted into something like relief. Carrow swooped Nezael up and wrapped his own cloak around Nezael’s shoulders.
He hadn’t even realized how much he’d been shivering until then.
“My blossom…” Carrow gently cupped Nezael’s face with one hand while keeping the other arm tight across his back. His thumb went over the cracked skin, seeping into it a warmth Nezael had never felt before, and the pain disappeared. “What kept you so long?” He walked Nezael inside as he spoke. “I was terrified.”
The doors shut with magic, sealing them inside the tower for the long night. Nezael caught sight of Bellamy ushering Isabella and Agatha out of view down the hall.
“I was merely distracted,” he said, the half-lie thick on his tongue. He couldn’t risk telling Carrow about Yorick; his lord would simply drive the man away. Nezael thrust his mittened hands between them and Carrow took a step back, face hardening. “I-I saw these in the market and went back after I finished with Isabella’s herbs. I suppose I lost track of the time. That’s all.”
Carrow eyed the mittens. Relief was replaced easily with suspicion. With gentle fingers, he pulled a mitten from Nezael’s hand and dropped it on the floor. Nezael swallowed his knee-jerk reaction to pick it up, especially when Carrow did the same for the other one.
“Bellamy could have knitted you your own,” he said slowly and took Nezael’s bare hand in his. He inspected the fingers before he gently kissed Nezael’s palm, lips tingling with warmth and magic both.
“My apologies,” Nezael said quietly. “I—”
“It’s done.” Carrow released Nezael’s hand. “It’s too late for lessons tonight. We will reconvene tomorrow morning.”
Nezael nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
Carrow watched him, but Nezael kept his gaze downcast. On the mittens laying sadly on the floor. “You were so late, we’ve already put away dinner. I hope in your excursion, you found time to eat.”
The warmth from his voice was gone and so was the worry. There was a gulf between them now, like a cold whirlpool sucking in everything, and Nezael’s pulse raced. He meekly nodded. “I have eaten,” he lied, knowing he’d get no food tonight even if he’d told the truth. May as well pretend he was fine. His stomach ached with the realization he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but it was his own fault.
Carrow’s fingers gently touched Nezael’s chin and tilted it so Nezael looked at him again. His lord’s face was blank. “We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”
Without another word, Carrow strode away, his warm cloak returned to his arm. Nezael watched him go, as still as could be despite the newfound chill digging into his bones, until the great hall doors slammed shut. The abject disappointment stung and Nezael pressed a palm to his chest to calm his heart. It wasn’t the first time his lord had been disappointed, but he’d done so well lately to only throw it away for a kind smile.
A kind smile who’d said his name so fondly. Nezael looked down at the mittens and while he thought to leave them there like his lord likely wanted him to do, he just couldn’t. He bent and quickly retrieved them.
He wanted to see the warm smile again.
But tonight, he immediately retired to his chambers.
He washed up in water he found he couldn’t warm with magic, redressed in his sleeping clothes which had their warming charm broken, and had just lit the candles across his room when a knock resounded from his door.
Agatha stuck her head in and with her came a small tray of food and mulled wine. She put a bony finger to where her lips had once been and hurried in to settle the tray on Nezael’s desk.
Bread slathered with honey and shredded meat from the hen spiced in winter herbs that would make him plenty warm if his room didn’t do it, and even a small tart drizzled with raspberry preserves. Nezael smiled at Agatha and she squeezed his arm.
“Next time, don’t dally. You know how our lord gets.” She released his arm and nodded to the tray. “Eat up. I’d hate to see you wither away like us.”
Nezael caught her hand and gently kissed the knuckles. “Thank you, Agatha.”
She tittered and shook her head. “Your charms will get you into trouble, my little lord.” She wiggled her fingers at him as she backed out. “Sweet dreams, now.”
The door closed and Nezael sat down to eat. He savored each bite in case his lord continued the punishment tomorrow. Everything was perfectly made and he mentally thanked Agatha again and again after each bite. With food in his stomach and the candles twinkling so softly, his room soon became steeped in sleepy warmth. A satisfied sigh left Nezael’s lips and he leaned back to look over his room.
His home. Not a very big space, but it was his. There was the vanity beside the desk his lord had gifted him that made the room feel bigger than it was because of the mirror, the walls of bookshelves shoved full of tomes to help Nezael hone his magic (and a few for fun that Isabella had once sneaked in for him), his desk and all the requisite scrolls and ink pens for writing, and then finally his bed. It was in the far corner, taking up the length of the room, and was full of quilts and blankets aplenty, each one full of colorful patterns. The first charm Nezael had learned on his own was how to make his blankets warm throughout the long winter nights.
With food in his stomach rejuvenating his energy, Nezael cast it with a swirl of his hand.
As the magic worked, weaving itself through every stitch of fabric, he gazed out of the windows behind his desk. It was dark, a few stars twinkling above the faraway trees, and the reflection of the candles simply looked like part of the night sky.
His thoughts should have drifted to possible lessons, ways to make it up to his lord to keep him on the straight and narrow path to absolve him of his follies today, but they didn’t. Try as he might, the thoughts strayed and landed firmly on Yorick and his smile. The soft touch of his hands. The way it would have been so easy to sit there with him in the forest and talk. After a while, Nezael didn’t even mind and let his thoughts linger for as long as they wanted to. It took him all the way to his bed and lasted long after his candles had gone out. Drifted into his dreams.
Because he desperately wanted to see Yorick again and nothing his lord did could take it away.
