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“You’ve never been the most organized sorcerer, Seasick. Even at school your book bag was a crime against everything good in the world.”
Cedric snorted as he added the sliced skink tongues to the cauldron. “For someone who had a book bag that erupted into flames at the end of the year; you certainly like to talk about others’ failings!” he said.
Greylock handed him the bowl of powdered bat feet and shrugged. “Yes, but I do so enjoy talking, old boy.”
“Believe me, Greylock. Everyone in the Ever Realm knows how much you enjoy talking!”
The scarred man laughed and moved to stand on the other side of the cauldron. “I’ve missed doing this kind of thing,” he hummed.
“Teasing me while I try to do my work?”
“Oh absolutely! Teasing you while you work should be a kingdom wide sport!”
“It felt like it was for awhile…” Cedric muttered.
“But also just doing things like this in general,” he said with a shrug. “I use some bits of magic making my glass but it’s not the same thing as making a potion or performing a spell for someone else. I suppose I miss being the jester sorcerer at times.”
“Even if Magnus took credit for it all?”
“Sounds silly doesn’t it?”
Cedric shrugged and used a bar of iron to stir around the contents of the cauldron. “I wouldn’t mind you joining me sometimes when I perform for king Roland.”
“We both know I can’t do that. Your king may be fine with me being here but it takes one person from another kingdom saying something to have Rudistan’s army breathing down Enchancia’s borders.” The former royal sorcerer sighed, watching as bubbles of purple and blue started to form on the surface. “I am content with being Enchancia’s royal glassmaker.”
Cedric looked over at his old friend. He wasn’t wearing his hat while in his workshop, leaving the scarring on his head and face exposed. He had lost one of his pointed ears, thick scar tissue and a small hole left where it had been. His legs were doing better than before, he had not had as many incidents of tendons tightening and preventing him from walking as before. And despite it all, Cedric could still see the classmate doing tricks with his monocle between classes.
“Copper for your thoughts,” Greylock hummed.
Cedric blinked when he realized he had been staring. “I was just wondering...when do you think Slickwell will confess his feelings for you?” he asked.
“That boy would rather have his limbs torn off by bulls than confess that!” Greylock laughed.
“So you know he has a crush on you?”
“If that boy tried to play a card game for money, he would be in debt in one turn!”
Cedric shook his head. “Do you think he ever will?”
“You’re an Enchancian, Bedsick. You’re used to people being open about their feelings and all that. Rudistan is...far more repressed in that regard.”
Cedric raised an eyebrow when he caught the look that crossed his friend’s face. “How so?” he asked.
“The royal steward and royal sorcerer being in a relationship would never be allowed. Not as openly as you and your sugar daddy anyway.”
“He’s not a sugar daddy,” Cedric sighed.
“Do you sit on his lap and let him feed you berries with cream at night?” He cackled as he leapt back, avoiding a slap from Cedric. “Temper temper! I never knew sugar babies guarded their secrets so violently!”
“Greylock…” Cedric warned.
“Oh very well! I shall stop calling you a sugar baby...today.”
“Fine. Now let us focus on Slickwell and his crush on you,” Cedric agreed.
“He’s still very much a man of Rudistan,” Greylock said with a shrug. “If I were a sorceress or if he were a stewardess, perhaps.”
“Perhaps he needs you to make the first move.” Greylock snorted and Cedric raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Can you imagine? ‘Hello, Slickwell! I’m covered in thick burn scars and just barely escaped execution for being a traitor and usurper to the throne! We should go out sometime!’”
“You’re afraid,” Cedric said.
Greylock pursed his lips and snorted, shaking his head. “I am not!” he said.
“You are!”
“I am not!”
“Greylock the Grand is afraid of telling someone his feelings!”
“You shut up!”
“I suppose that means I am better than you at this!”
“No!”
“Prove it! Talk to him about it then!” Cedric said.
“You..! You tricked me into that challenge,” he huffed. “You sneaky bastard!”
Cedric just smiled, watching as the iron bar he was stirring with melted into the mixture. “I learned from the best.”
***
Slickwell hissed and grumbled to himself, scrubbing a pan with a brush harder than he probably needed to. Baileywick had assigned him to clean the pots and he was currently imagining hitting the old man over the head with one!
“Years in school! Trained by the finest! Served several years in the court of Rudistan! All to wash pots!” he snarled. He slammed the pot down and yelped when soapy water splashed onto him and soaked his front and pants. He stamped a foot on the ground, hands clenched in fists. “Oh for fu…”
“Practicing swimming?”
Slickwell looked up and his tension and anger lessened when he saw it was Greylock. He sighed, turning back to his work as the other walked over. “The old bastard has me washing pots tonight.”
“Washing pots is better than no job at all,” Greylock offered.
“Ha! I doubt that,” Slickwell huffed. He looked over at Greylock. “Did you need something?”
“I did actually,” he said with a nod. He used a slender handmade wand, moving it in an intricate pattern over the sink. The pots and brushes started to move on their own, cleaning and drying themselves. “There. Much better, hm?”
“So what did you want to talk about?” Slickwell asked.
“Us.”
He blinked, looking at the other in surprise. “I...what..?”
“You’re not as discrete as you think you are. Even old Kendrick could see it,” Greylock said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
Slickwell blushed, looking away. “Well it doesn’t matter. It’s not proper so…”
“Baileywick and Cedric are openly in a relationship,” Greylock reminded him. “Also I’ve seen several of the maids giggling between each other in a way that is far more romantic than platonic. It’s not discouraged here, you know. This is Enchancia.”
“...that’s not what I was worried about,” he confessed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to think you have to settle for someone like me,” he confessed.
Greylock stared at Slickwell in silence for a moment, slowly shaking his head. “I’m sorry, what?”
The younger man groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Don’t make me repeat it,” he murmured into his palms.
“Why would I be settling for you?”
“Because you’re a sorcerer! You went to Hexley Hall and can use magic! I...I am just really good at organizing things and serving tea!”
Greylock snorted, “which one of us was almost executed for treason?”
“That’s different.”
“Not really.”
Slickwell hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. He toyed with his fingers, building up the courage to ask, “you have feelings for me too?”
The sorcerer smiled crookedly, nodding his head. “I do,” he said. “I don’t know if you could ever want a burned up traitor but…” Greylock’s words were cut off when Slickwell kissed him. He sighed, hugging him close as the kiss deepened.