Fantasmical 2023

Never Trust Hex Throwers and Arcanists

I run the spell-woven fabric through my fingers. I knew it. I knew Night was a Zinnian Battle Mage. The war may be long over now, but I've killed enough of them in this life to never forget this blue kaftan.

Sure he's removed the Zinnian Royal crest and any possible trace of what rank he was from the exterior of the coat, but fabric like this is a lost art.

No wonder he made it out unscathed when the rest of Quazantium was reduced to rubble and ash.

Night stirs in our shared bed and I let his kaftan slip to the floor.

Never trust Hex Throwers and Arcanists a memory of a long-dead man whispers.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Night asks as we wander the crowded stall-lined streets of the festival.

"I told you I'm fine."

He attempts to lean into my gaze. "Are you sure? Because if you're tired you don't have to force yourself on my—"

Are you just trying to rid yourself of me so you can find someone more...?

I whirl on him, unable to contain my anger. "If it's your intention to coddle me for the rest of my existence just because I briefly died then I will find more amiable company."

He jerks back as if I've slapped him. "What?"

I shove my curled fists into my pockets and turn away before he can see the scarlet of my cheeks. "I feel like dancing and you are murdering the mood," I huff as I storm off.

* * *

When the Pruhanian Empire trained us to become Shadow Stalkers we were taught to be wary of the Hex Throwers and Arcanists. Those who could use their magic to charm with a mere look or word. The Empire needed us to become their perfect killers—their deadly shadows. So they made us numb to it all. To the comfort of affection.

I lift the large tankard of honey wine to my lips as I remember the Shadow Master's praise.

"Excellent, Fennec. One might even think you were forged from the most frigid of ice."

Ice indeed, I laugh.

The bastard was blind to see that one well-placed kiss from Dahlia was enough to melt me right to the core.

I scowl at my honey wine. "What you should have done is warn us about Magi, you heartless bastard," I curse into my drink.

Night's question replays in my mind. "How are you feeling?"

Like I'm coming undone and it's all your fault!

"I really don't think you should be doing that," Night advises as if thinking about him magically summoned him to my side.

I'm a tankard and a half in so more won't really make a damned of a difference. So I down a large gulp before lowering it just enough to stare over the rim at him.

"And why's that?"

"Because..."

"Are you afraid I'll go home with someone else and won't come back?" I question viciously. I'm being petty and cruel and I hate myself for it.

I take another large gulp as I turn back toward the bar.

"I'm concerned you'll do something you'll regret in the morning," he says, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

You've been treating me with kid gloves since you brought me back from that darkness. But tell me, Night, is it just guilt that you feel?

I down the remains of my drink and slam the empty tankard on the bar. "The last thing I regretted was so many years ago I've lost count."

"Ash, wait—"

"No, you listen. Everything I do I intend to do. And the things I didn't I never regret," I state firmly as I turn and lean back against the bar.

Or is it something...more?

I stare up at Night as I run my tongue over my lips, daring him to make a move.

You have more magic in you than any reasonable person should ever possess. And an obsession with stealing treasures from a kingdom I wiped off the map an age ago and someday it's gonna get you killed.

I'm very aware you've bedded more lovers than a well-paid courtesan, but I... I want to know you. All of you. And I want you to know all of me too.

Night's lips fall open in question. "Are you...?"

"You're the last person I'd think would need things laid out for them plainly, Night."

He swallows hard.

Make your choice. But you'll only get to make it this once.

Night leans forward ever so slowly but when he's so close I can feel his breath against my skin, he hesitates. His gaze shifts from one eye to the other and back again and I don't think I've ever seen him look so uncertain.

But I'm done waiting for him to make up his mind. So I grab his tunic and yank his mouth the rest of the way to mine.

And ohhh...

Night's mouth is like a forbidden door that suddenly welcomes me into the warm embrace of what lies beyond. And I wander in with careless abandon. And before I realize it his hands are pushing beneath the edges of my tunic as he grabs hold of my waist and lifts me up onto the bar.

"Ngh...ahh..." I moan against his lips as I hook my heels behind his back, drawing him closer.

But the moment I do, Night pulls away just far enough to look at me. "Want to take this back to our place?"

Our place... I love the sound of that.

I lean in so we're nose to nose. "Take me home, Night."

They told us never to trust Hex Throwers and Arcanists. To never fall prey to their wiles or charms. But above all, never to gift them our hearts or share their beds.

But they never said anything about Magi.