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Three little knocks on the door had Beldaruit pause his correspondence. It was past Qifrey’s bedtime. But the boy had always had terrible trouble sleeping, and Beldaruit had grown used to his nightly wanderings. It had taken several months for Qifrey to gather the courage to come to his door when he had a nightmare. Beldaruit never refused him, even when his bones ached and his own deep-seated exhaustion threatened to pull him under. Qifrey needed an adult he could trust, and Beldaruit was determined to be that person, even if it killed him. 

He set his pen down. “Come innn,” he replied in a cheerful trill, and he heard the doorknob turn. Qifrey’s light footsteps padded into the room. Beldaruit turned his sealchair and saw the boy hovering at the mouth of the door, in his bed clothes, gazing up at Beldaruit with his lone eye wide, almost nervous. “Hello, Qifrey,” he said, beckoning him over with a wave. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay.” Qifrey was such a bad liar that Beldaruit was inclined to believe him. Still, Beldaruit worried. Qifrey approached the chair, slowly at first, and then breaking into a scamper halfway across the room. It was unusual for Qifrey to seek affection, so when he put his hands on the horns of the chair and looked up at Beldaruit for permission, Beldaruit couldn’t stop his smile. 

“You want to sit on my lap?”

Qifrey nodded. 

“Aren’t you so sweet?” He lifted Qifrey up with relative ease. Beldaruit had never been strong, but Qifrey was light to the point of concern. Beldaruit had spent the last year fretting over his weight with doctors who insisted he was too thin to be healthy, and cooks who wracked their brains every day to prepare balanced, calorific meals for the child. He was beginning to fill out a little. His clothes no longer hung off him, and he’d developed a lovely layer of baby fat around his cheeks. 

With Qifrey securely nestled on his lap, Beldaruit went on, “Is something the matter? Or did you just want a cuddle? It’s okay if that’s all it is. I just need to know that you’re all right.” 

“I’m fine,” he repeated again, more emphatically. His little fists curled, and he frowned and pouted at not being believed. “I was thinking.”

“Thinking is wonderful. I love to think. It keeps the mind robust. But it’s past your bedtime now, Qifrey. What were you thinking about that was keeping you up?”

“Olly told me something today.”

Ah. The friend. Olruggio. The boy Qifrey had spent the better part of the year talking to. Beldaruit had been so relieved when Qifrey had befriended him. He was a good kid: smart, kind, warm. He encouraged Qifrey to study, and even though the pair of them got up to all kinds of trouble, Beldaruit couldn’t grudge him this relationship. He was just glad Qifrey had someone his age to talk to. He didn’t connect with the other children, and even adults looked at him with suspicion. And if there was anyone who deserved some kindness, it was this child, who had been through so much, so young.

“He said that some of the other kids, they have sleepovers. That’s when you go to your friend’s atelier for a night.” His voice was getting smaller. He fiddled with his hands, as he sometimes did when he was nervous. “I know that you’re upset with me for wandering out like I did a few days ago”—right, Beldaruit had been furious that Qifrey had gone and nearly gotten both himself and Olruggio killed chasing after a pride of griffins— “but I was wondering if Olly could come for a sleepover next week?”

Qifrey was looking up at him with a heart-melting stare, and Beldaruit nearly laughed. Oh, he thought he was so slick, didn’t he? Olruggio must have taught him this tactic. He’d noticed how crafty Qifrey’s friend was. 

“Do you think acting cute is going to make me forget that you snuck out of bed in the dead of night and went to the surface again?” 

Hah. Caught. 

Qifrey huffed, rolled his eye, and jumped off Beldaruit’s lap. “Come on, nothing bad even happened!” he whined. All pretence of the earlier vulnerability was gone. 

Beldaruit crossed his arms. “You two were nearly plucked off by one of the mama griffins!”

“But we weren’t. I thought you’d be more impressed that my whirlpool spell scared her off!” 

Okay, well. Yes. All right. Qifrey had told him about the whirlpool spell. Demonstrated it, even. He’d come a long way from struggling to do basic magic. In just a year, he’d improved a lot. He was creative, and he seemed to adore magic. He was an excellent student when he wasn’t being such an impertinent little brushbug. 

“The spell was very impressive. I never said it wasn’t. But you are aware that what you did was dangerous and wrong. You have a bedtime. I expect you to stick to it. And you aren’t allowed to go to the surface. You know this.” 

“We just wanted to see the griffin cubs! Aren’t you the one always saying that I should follow my curiosity wherever it takes me?” 

“That doesn’t mean to the surface, and it doesn’t mean at night! Do you have any idea how dangerous mama griffins can be?”

“Yes, I do.” 

“Right—because one nearly took your other eye out! Actions have consequences. Why would I be inclined to agree to this sleepover?” 

Qifrey groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Come onnnn, just one night. Olly’s atelier has way more students so I thought he could come over and—and—um, we could…practice magic! Yes, we’ll study! And—uhh, I promise I won’t go wandering out ever again!” 

“Wow, ever again?” Beldaruit couldn’t hide his grin. Nobody told him having a student would be this funny. “You’re willing to stop your shenanigans and tomfoolery forever, if I just let Olruggio come for a sleepover? Huh, this sounds like an excellent deal. What a bargain!” 

“Yes!” Qifrey nearly hopped in place, a grin splitting his mouth. He was still figuring out how to be sneaky, but he hadn’t quite learnt how to read sarcasm yet. “It’s a bargain! It’s a deal!” 

“And if I say no?”

Qifrey frowned. 

“Please?” 

There was something so genuine in it that Beldaruit felt himself cave. He was never going to refuse this request, anyway. It was nice to see Qifrey so enthusiastic about having a friend come to stay. Usually, when Beldaruit had company over—visitors for tea or work—Qifrey would hide in his room. 

Anyway, Qifrey had been denied too much in his young life. Denied freedom, denied memory, denied even a name. Beldaruit wouldn’t deny him something as simple as a sleepover with his friend.

“Fine,” he relented. 

It was worth it to see Qifrey’s face light up in such open joy. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. As long as I have a word with Olruggio’s master first, to make sure it’s all above board.”

“Yes!” Qifrey punched the air and then—shockingly—dropped himself back into Beldaruit’s arms. Still, he was careful when he did that, controlling the force of his body so he didn’t injure Beldaruit. 

Beldaruit’s heart practically swelled at the sudden, unexpected affection. 

But it didn’t last long. Qifrey jumped back with a soft, sharp intake of air. His hand flew to his scar.

“Are you all right?” Beldaruit asked again, concerned now. He’d noticed how sometimes Qifrey flinched and pulled away from touch, as if physically pained by a shadow of a memory. It hurt him: that Qifrey associated touch with such trauma. Beldaruit could only hope this would get better with time. 

The boy frowned lightly, but then smiled again. “Yes, yes I’m fine. Thank you!”

Beldaruit studied him for a moment, but he seemed unharmed. Finally, he said, “You’re very welcome, darling. Now it’s late. Go to sleep.” 

“Okay.” Still grinning, Qifrey scampered out of the bedroom. He turned, just before he shut the door, and offered Beldaruit a look of such happiness and trust and gratitude that if Qifrey had asked for a pet kraken, in that moment, Beldaruit would have agreed to it. “Good night, master.”

“Sleep well, my dear child.”

The door clicked shut. Beldaruit sat in the moment, a soft chuckle bubbling out of his throat, and shook his head. Eventually he turned back to his desk, back to the letter he’d been writing, although he could no longer concentrate.

He wanted to give Qifrey the childhood he had never had. 

When other children had run around the Great Hall, Beldaruit had stayed in bed, exhausted and resentful and lonely. His parents had money to spend on doctors and all manner of comforts, but he had almost been forbidden from learning magic. They didn’t think him strong enough. 

But then the Wise in Teachings herself had intervened. She’d agreed to teach Beldaruit, and sat in his room every day, teaching him from his bedside, allowing his imagination and his ink-stained hands to run free. Beldaruit truly loved magic. It had been his one source of joy growing up. 

He wanted Qifrey to love magic, too. More than that, though, he wanted Qifrey to be able to find joy everywhere, in everything. And if a simple sleepover could light up his face like that, well, then maybe Beldaruit was doing something right. 

“Olly and I will make dinner tomorrow. So you don’t need to do any cooking.”

Gracia, one of Beldaruit’s trusted chefs, shot a bemused glance towards her cook, Antoine. The pair of them then regarded little Qifrey, who stood in the kitchen with his arms crossed. He must have been trying to look imperious or important, but to Beldaruit, it just emphasised his youth. 

“You and Olruggio will be cooking dinner?” Gracia confirmed. She managed to look very serious, as if it was Beldaruit giving the instruction, and not his nine-year-old student. 

Antoine wasn’t so indulgent. He put his hands on his hips. “Do you even know how to do a pyreball spell?” 

“Yes. Olly taught me.” 

“Okay. Do you know the difference between starspice and star pepper?” 

“...Yeah. Totally,” Qifrey blustered, pausing a moment too long. “Starspice is the star-shaped one and…star pepper is the…” he turned red, balled his fists, and said, “Whatever!! We’re making dinner so don’t make anything, okay? Please and thank you!” he tacked on, because he had started to make a real effort with his manners lately. Then he turned on his heels and stomped out of the kitchen. 

As soon as he was gone, Gracia snorted into her fist and went back to the stove, shaking her head. Antoine huffed. “What a little brat,” he muttered, a little annoyed but mostly fond. “I’m assuming you do want us to make dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yes, please,” Beldaruit said. He took a sip of his tea. “Qifrey is just very excited about this sleepover.”

He'd talked of nothing else all week. Qifrey had taken the liberty of borrowing at least five thespitexts from the library, all with various stories they could spend all night watching. He’d borrowed several magical games from Alaira, and had spent the better part of this morning making a “blanket spire” in his bedroom. Beldaruit only knew this last part because Qifrey had wanted to extend the back of his desk chair so it reached the ceiling, and he hadn’t known the spell to do so. Beldaruit had offered to help, and they’d used the opportunity to practice spells of expansion and shrinkage. Now there was an enormous chair in Qifrey’s room, covered by an enormous blanket, and a sign stuck to the front that read, A Curse Be Upon Any Who Knock On This Door. 

It was all so adorable Beldaruit could cry. Qifrey didn’t even like confined spaces, but it seemed Olruggio’s presence in this blanket fort made it a safe place for him. 

“I wonder what they plan to cook,” Gracia mused. She threw some badland beans into the stew bubbling on the fire. 

Beldaruit was wondering the same. Qifrey didn’t know how to cook. Beldaruit himself didn’t know. It was perhaps sad to admit, but he’d been fortunate to come from money. His health being what it was, regular cooking and cleaning also drained him. He’d always hired people to help with that. Unless Qifrey spent his nightly wanderings with Olruggio secretly whipping up recipies—which Beldaruit doubted—there was no way his young charge knew anything about the kitchen.

He had been encouraging Qifrey to learn household chores, though. Qifrey was expected to clean his own room, and help lay out the table at every meal. Beldaruit also had him wash his own plate and glasses after eating, which he hated doing, so it became an opportunity for Qifrey to practice water magic. 

In the hours leading up to the sleepover, Qifrey couldn’t focus. He huffed and sighed and fidgeted his way through a lesson on earth sigils that Beldaruit had prepared, his eye going to the clock on the wall with increasing frequency. 

Qifrey had, over the year, become rather comfortable clambering onto the sealchair. With Beldaruit’s permission, of course. At the moment, he was laid out with his knees dangling over the back of the chair and his head hanging upside down off Beldaruit’s shoulder. He groaned as Beldaruit turned a page, and huffed a breath of air to blow hair out of his eye. 

“My, you are very distracted today,” Beldaruit commented.

Qifrey angled his head to the wall, again, to read the time upside down. 

“Three more clock marks…”

“Plenty of time to finish this chapter of the primer. I thought Olruggio was coming to spend a night studying?” 

Qifrey rubbed his eye and allowed his knees to unhook from the back of the chair. He slid slowly down, until he’d slumped in a heap in Beldaruit’s lap, effectively falling over the primer. This was just a smoke-sculpture, and Qifrey knew that. He wouldn’t dare try a stunt like this with Beldaruit’s real body. For all his brattiness, he was very careful not to hurt Beldaruit. 

Qifrey pressed his head in Beldaruit’s thigh, letting out a high-pitched squeal. “I’m bored.” 

He chuckled, stroking Qifrey’s hair. He was always cautious. Was this allowed? Qifrey reacted so unpredictably when he was touched. For now, Qifrey didn’t push him away or flinch, so Beldaruit took that as permission to continue. 

“I don’t really believe you and Olruggio are doing any studying tonight.”

“We totally will,” Qifrey promised, his face still buried in Beldaruit’s robes.

“It’s okay,” Beldaruit ruffled his hair harder, chortling. “You don’t have to study tonight. See, you don’t even need to have a bedtime tonight. It’s a sleepover, it should be fun. But I do think you should at least finish this chapter before your friend comes over. There’s only a little bit left.” 

Qifrey turned his head, so Beldaruit was faced with an intense, searching, blue-eyed stare. “No bedtimes? For real?”

“For real. Not that you even stick to a bedtime, do you?”

“I mean, I try…” Qifrey pushed off his lap and moved so he was sitting cross-legged on Beldaruit instead of folded like a brushbug on his knees. “Sleeping is difficult.” It was a small confession, said in a breathy rush. “I don’t like it.”

Beldaruit knew that. The first week, he’d placed a smoke sculpture outside Qifrey’s door, and good thing, too. The boy had woken up hyperventilating in the dark. The only thing that had helped was to have light spells all over the room, in various animal shapes. Qifrey still had his animal lights, but Beldaruit knew it was a rare night when he had an undisturbed sleep.

Now, he shut the primer and set it on the table. He wasn’t sure a platitude would help. So he took a different approach. 

“I have always felt the opposite. Sleep is the only thing that ever helped me as a child.”

Qifrey turned to look up at him, his brows pinched in a thoughtful frown. “Is that why you’re always in bed? Your real body, I mean.”

“You know I have brittle bones, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You know I get tired.”

“Being in bed helps with that, I suppose…” Qifrey trailed off. He was now gazing at the door of the study, though his mind was probably in far away places. “I wish I could sleep like you.”

“No,” said Beldaruit seriously. “You don’t. It’s incredibly frustrating to have a body that doesn’t cooperate. If you have trouble sleeping, we can try to find solutions to that. But please, my dear, don’t wish to be like me.”

Qifrey scowled, then, and glared up at Beldaruit as if he’d said something terrible. “You’re so annoying,” he snapped. “I’ll be like whoever I want. Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“Oh.” His chest fluttered, a warmth spreading over his heart and up his cheeks. “I just mean,” he clarified, “you shouldn’t want to have my condition—”

“Shut up,” Qifrey said now, vehemently. Then he fell back against Beldaruit, nestling into his clothes, and pulled his knees to his chin. “Okay,” he demanded, once he was cosy enough. “Finish the chapter.” 

Beldaruit smiled to himself, and hesitated just a moment before he lowered his head to place a soft kiss in Qifrey’s hair. To his utter delight, Qifrey didn’t resist, only buried deeper into his chest. Beldaruit opened the book again and resumed reading.

Qifrey was still learning how to read. They worked with simple words and sentences in the mornings, but Beldaruit usually read spellbooks and things out loud, since they were more complicated and had a much higher reading level. Qifrey still struggled with those. It was why he loved thespitexts so much: books he could watch. 

Beldaruit had barely gotten through a paragraph, Qifrey nuzzled into him like that, when the boy suddenly bolted upright with a gasp.

“Qifrey?”

He flinched when Beldaruit tried to touch him. He was wincing, biting down on his lower lip. “I’m okay,” he said, “I’m okay. Sorry.” 

“Are you?” Beldaruit peered at his face. His hair covered his scarred eye, as usual. The other eye was dry, so at least he wasn’t crying. Qifrey was tense, though, unlike how he’d been a moment ago. He sat against the arm of the sealchair, hugging his ankles. The look he gave Beldaruit was almost frightened, before he settled to something more reserved. 

“Yes,” he said. “I’m okay. You can continue.”

“Are you sure?”

Qifrey nodded.

Cautiously, Beldaruit turned back to the book, though he kept one eye on Qifrey. The boy remained tense and immobile for the rest of the lesson, though he didn’t leave Beldaruit’s side. 

The sound of childish laughter warmed Beldaruit’s heart. Qifrey had let out a cry of joy when Olruggio came to their door, an overnight bag on his shoulder. They’d taken each other by the hand and ran off to Qifrey’s bedroom. The door slammed shut a moment later, and Beldaruit heard nothing more for almost a whole clock mark. He hummed to himself as he sat by the fire, enjoying some willowgrape marktea as he began a new novel. Gracia and Antoine had prepared a feast, but had wisely kept it in magic cookpots in the pantry. It was a backup meal, when Qifrey and Olruggio’s kitchen experiments inevitably failed. He didn’t want the children to go hungry! And if, by some miracle, the children’s meal did turn out a success, the backup food could just be had the next day. 

He heard footsteps scamper down the hall, Qifrey giggling while Olruggio narrated some funny story involving their friend Alaira. Beldaruit was so very curious, but he kept to himself. He didn’t want to intrude on his beloved student’s fun. Qifrey’s first sleepover. It was likely going to be a precious memory for him some day, and he’d already been robbed of so many memories. Beldaruit wouldn’t dare do anything to infringe on this night. 

He did, however, worry when he heard a yelp and a crash. 

Immediately, he dropped his book on his lap. The sealchair raced towards the kitchen, and he burst in to find the two boys hastily trying to sweep broken glass. They’d dropped the jar of glow sugar. It had all but shattered, its contents twinkling under the yellow lights. 

“What’s going on?”

Olruggio jumped back. “Master Beldaruit! I’m so sorry, it was a total accident!” 

Beldaruit beckoned for the pair of them. “Now now, it’s all right. It’s just a jar. Are you both safe? You aren’t bleeding, are you?” 

“No,” Qifrey said, opening his palms to show Beldaruit. Luckily they were both wearing their shoes, so they’d protected their feet. “We were trying to make pudding.”

Sure enough, six pudding cups and a plate of washed drewberries sat on the counter. “Have you ever seen a repairing spell?” Beldaruit asked, taking out his palm quire and pen from his pocket. He allowed them to get closer. “What sigil do you think we’d use? Qifrey?”

Qifrey stroked his chin. “Um…earth?” 

“Very good.” Beldaruit drew the earth sigil. “Now for the signs…” He drew slowly, so the boys could follow it. “Signs of convergence…what else do you think we’d need?”

“Direction?” Olruggio suggested. He was leaning to get a better look over the arm of the sealchair. His eyes were blazing with interest. “Oh, and signs of crushing!”

“But you’d have to invert them,” Qifrey added, with a pointed look towards his friend.

“Right, right!”

“Excellent! You boys are so clever!” Beldaruit finished the spell, completed it with a ring, and held it over the mess on the floor. The glow sugar jar popped together, fully formed, every crack fixed, every shard back in place. 

“Whoa,” Olruggio said. “That’s so cool! Thanks, Master Bel!”

“It was no trouble! Do you mind if I sit here and watch you?” He just wanted to supervise in case any other mishaps occurred. He never should have left these two in the kitchen alone. They were far too young. What if they’d cut their hands? Beldaruit would be worried sick. And he didn’t want to send Olruggio back to his master with easily avoidable injuries! 

“Sure!” Olruggio chirped. He took the glow sugar jar off the floor and practically hopped back to the kitchen counter. Qifrey seemed more reluctant. He lingered by Beldaruit, his expression unreadable. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Beldaruit asked him in an undertone. 

“Whatever, I guess,” Qifrey muttered. 

Beldaruit laughed to hide the barb of hurt. He wouldn’t have taken Qifrey on if he didn’t have thick skin and the ability to deal with complex problems, but it still stung to be rejected by his moody apprentice. Qifrey obviously didn’t want him in the room, but was going to tolerate him. Beldaruit would accept what he was given. It was selfish to expect Qifrey to want him around all the time. Some days, Qifrey could barely stand to look at him. 

He had to remember that this was the same boy who clambered all over his sealchair and refused to let him insult himself, even accidentally. Qifrey did care for him in some way. A boyish, confusing, inelegant, yet sincere way. He was also just a child who wanted to have fun with his best friend. Beldaruit could understand that. 

He pretended to read, and watched with some interest as the boys coddled together a jelly pudding. Beldaruit’s heart clenched when Olruggio drew the pyreball spell and then let a pot of water with gelatin bubble over it. He wasn’t tall enough to stir properly, but neither of them were asking for Beldaruit’s help. Qifrey found a stool Olruggio could stand on. Meanwhile, Qifrey arranged the drewberries in a decorative pattern in the pudding cups. 

“Okay, I think it’s boiled,” Olruggio said. He hopped off the stool and began to ladle out the steaming liquid. Beldaruit pressed his lips together in an effort to silence his concern. It didn’t work.

“Can I do that for you?”

“No, we got it,” Qifrey swiftly answered. Olruggio glanced between him and Beldaruit, and offered the pair of them a sweet smile.

“Be careful…” Beldaruit warned, inwardly cringing as Olruggio poured the liquid into the pudding cups. A little bit splashed out. Qifrey barely avoided getting scalded. He directed an annoyed huff at Beldaruit. By and by, the pudding cups were filled. 

“Now they need to cool,” said Olruggio. He pulled something out of his pocket—a hastily scribbled recipe. “It says we need to wait for three clock marks.”

“No, we don’t.” Qifrey was already taking out his palm quire. His brow furrowed in concentration, he drew a careful spell, before tearing off the page and placing it on the counter. With a flourish, he closed the ring, and a slab of ice formed on the counter. 

“Nice!” Olruggio cheered. 

“Well done, Qifrey!” Beldaruit clapped. “You’ve been practicing your ice spells, haven’t you?”

Qifrey’s foray into water magic had been brought on by his hatred for water, but Beldaruit had noticed the boy had a real talent for it. He’d picked up ice spells much faster than Beldaruit had expected, and could reliably create small ice sculptures in basic shapes. Qifrey tilted his head towards Beldaruit in acknowledgement, then muttered an embarrassed, “Thanks.”

The boys set the pudding cups on the ice to rest, and then began the second part of their dinner, which was, apparently, star-shaped sandwiches, which Olruggio kept calling “starwitches”. 

If possible, Beldaruit was even more nervous about this. The boys were raiding the kitchen cabinets for a cheese grater and eldroxen tail ham. Qifrey pulled out a sharp, serrated knife from the rack, and Beldaruit shut his book with a snap. “Let me do it. Whatever it is you think you’re going to do with the knife, let me do it instead.”

“It’s fine!” Qifrey muttered. 

“Qifrey, I’m not asking.” The sealchair hastened towards his boy, and Beldaruit snatched the knife out of his hands. “Tell me what it is you want to cut. You have never handled a knife before,” he added, when Qifrey opened his mouth to protest. 

“Ugh!” Qifrey stomped his foot. “I can totally do it!” 

Olruggio, hovering silently by the counter, pretended not to see the argument. Instead, he dropped a loaf of bread on a chopping board and beamed at them both. “Could you please cut about eight narrow slices?”

Beldaruit wasn’t sure if Olruggio was speaking to him or to Qifrey. Maybe that was intentional. The boy was a lot craftier than he looked, after all. 

Beldaruit still had the knife, but Qifrey scowled and grabbed the end of the loaf to steady it. Beldaruit sawed into the bread. Eight narrow slices later, Olruggio layered the sandwiches: ham, then cheese. He made four sandwiches, and then laid them back on the chopping board. 

“Could you please cut these in a star shape?”

Qifrey pinched his brows and glared between his friend and his master. Beldaruit sighed. Maybe he was being overprotective. Qifrey was nine, which by some accounts was old enough to begin using sharp kitchen tools. And wasn’t it better if his first time with a knife happened under Beldaruit’s supervision? He had no doubt Qifrey would otherwise try it on his own and hurt himself.

“All right. Fine.” He handed the knife, hilt-first, to Qifrey. “Do it slow and steady.” 

His eye wide, Qifrey accepted the knife like a sword of great power. 

Beldaruit held his breath. Qifrey had good command over the knife. He traced a star shape over the bread, the point of the blade hovering just above the sandwich. Just like when he practiced drawing. Then, he cut. The steel pierced through the bread in slow, deliberate motions. He wore the same expression that he did while spellcasting, his lips pinched to one side, his head tilted so the knife was fully within his visual range. He managed to shape a fairly even five-pointed star. 

“Nice!!” Olruggio clapped, ever the cheerleader. Qifrey handed off the “starwitch”, a faint blush on his pale cheeks, and watched as Olruggio added grill marks to the bread with a small flame. 

They worked in silence for a quarter of a clock mark, Qifrey cutting the sandwich, Olruggio grilling the tops. Beldaruit allowed himself a long, soft exhale. He was worrying for nothing. Qifrey was immensely capable. He ought to trust his young apprentice more. 

“Sorry I doubted you,” he offered, when the starwitches were done. 

“It’s fine,” Qifrey replied in an abashed monotone. 

“You did an excellent job.”

“I know.” 

But Qifrey’s blush spread all the way to his ears, so Beldaruit knew he was happy with the praise.

They laid out three plates, until Beldaruit waved them off. “I’ve already eaten,” he said. 

“Ugh. But this is for you,” Qifrey snapped, and slammed the plate down, hard, in front of Beldaruit. 

He chortled into his hand. “My, my. All right. I will have a sandwich.”

“It’s called a starwitch.”

“Right. Sorry. Starwitch.” 

Beldaruit listened to the boys chatter as they ate. Olruggio spoke as swiftly as the current about a local legend from his home of Ghodrey. Qifrey interjected with a question or the occasional comment, but Beldaruit could tell he was paying rapt attention. The blush hadn’t left his cheeks. 

The starwitch was pretty tasty. It needed some sauce, perhaps, but Beldaruit didn’t say that. The boys were clearly thrilled with their accomplishment, because they polished off their meal and split the last starwitch three ways so even Beldaruit got a share. Then Qifrey brought over three pudding cups. 

“This is delicious!” Beldaruit said. They’d set beautifully, and were gelatinous and sweet. 

“It is!” Olruggio agreed. “I’m so glad the recipe worked out!”

Qifrey was eyeing the other three pudding cups on the counter. “The ice is melting,” he said, solemn.

Beldaruit looked over his shoulder. 

“Those three are supposed to be for Gracia and Antoine, and for Emmaline.”

“Emmaline?” asked Olruggio.

“She does the cleaning.” Qifrey worried the ends of his cloak. “But the ice will melt, and the pudding will go bad, and they don’t get here until tomorrow. I wish there was a way to make ice…not melt.”

“You are a witch, Qifrey,” Beldaruit reminded him. “Think of a solution.”

Qifrey abandoned his pudding to go examine the melting ice. Beldaruit moved his sealchair so he could watch. Qifrey touched the water forming on the counter, rubbing it between his fingertips before wiping it on his cloak with a grimace. “Why does ice have to be so wet when it melts?” he complained, mostly to himself.

“There’s gotta be a way to keep it dry.” Olruggio also jumped off the chair and went over. “Maybe if we put our heads together…” And Olruggio leaned forward and gently knocked Qifrey’s head with his own. To Beldaruit’s surprise, Qifrey let out a quiet laugh and knocked back. 

“What if…” Qifrey said, flipping to a new page on his palm quire, “we encase the ice seal in a seal of warming?”

“No…that would just create steam. But I think you’re on the right track with encasing a seal within a seal. Maybe a repetition spell! That way the ice seal will keep starting over and it won’t melt!” 

“Oh!” Qifrey’s eye lit up. “Yes, perfect! Olly, you’re a genius.” 

Beldaruit bit the inside of his cheek to stop from squealing. These two were so cute. They immediately pored over Qifrey’s palm quire, and in moments, they’d come up with a spell. The old, melting ice was discarded in the sink and the puddings were placed on a new, sparkling slab.

“What are you going to call this spell?” Beldaruit asked.

“Um…” Olruggio and Qifrey looked at each other. Olruggio shrugged.

Qifrey rolled his eye and threw up his palms. “How about ‘dry ice’?” 

“Simple and evocative!” Beldaruit snapped his fingers. “Now why don’t you two finish your puddings?”

They were now sprawled on their stomachs in the living room, laying on cushions and blankets, watching a thespitext. Beldaruit could hear them from his study, and occasionally turned his head to watch through the half-open door. A book—long and thin and large—sat open in front of them. Each page consisted of several illusion seals. The story on the page was enacted with visuals: shapes and colours, music and voice. Characters danced across the air before vanishing into the ether. These moving books—sometimes called movies—had grown increasingly popular over the last decade. Every house owned at least a few thespitexts. Qifrey absolutely loved them. 

“That redcap guy is so stupid,” Qifrey complained, apparently about one of the characters. “Why would he sacrifice his life to save Irina? She was always meant to be swallowed by the sea.”

“How can you say that?” Olruggio cried. “Irina is the person he loves the most in the world! Of course he’d do anything to save her.”

They were watching a romance. How amusing. Beldaruit giggled softly before turning back to his own novel.

“I don’t know…” he heard Qifrey say. “If someone’s meant to be swallowed by the ocean, it’s just…I mean, why bother loving them? There are better people out there.”

“I cannot believe you just said that. Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

And then Beldaruit heard some light scuffling. They were shoving each other. Then Olruggio gasped, and Qifrey gasped, and the sound of the thespitext grew louder. 

“He transformed into a dolphin!” Qifrey yelled. “Wait, isn’t that forbidden?”

“It’s a trick.”

“No, he really transformed—”

“It’s gotta be a trick!”

Beldaruit peered over the back of his chair. The thespitext visuals now showed a dolphin battling a shark. He lacked context for any of this. Was the dolphin supposed to be a transformed witch? The mysterious “redcap guy” Qifrey had referred to? 

“Hah!” Olruggio cried, shaking Qifrey’s shoulders. “Water clone! I told you it was a trick.” 

Sure enough, the dolphin disappeared and a red-hatted character, hiding behind a reef, now swam out to confront the shark king. 

“I thought redcap guy was dead,” Qifrey said, sounding confused.

“They wouldn’t kill him, he’s the hero! And he’s going to save Irina.”

“Irina is going to die. The ocean’s going to claim her. He can’t fight the whole ocean.”

“He will,” Olruggio insisted. “That’s how stories go. You fight everyone and everything to save the person you love.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Qifrey quipped, and then there was more silence as they both watched the story play out. When the scenes in the chapter ended, Olruggio turned to the next page to continue it. 

Beldaruit discreetly watched the rest of the thespitext movie from his study. His book lay forgotten. Olruggio had been right, of course. “Redcap guy” was able to save his love, Irina, from the wrathful curse of the ocean, and they both lived happily ever after as king and queen of Shellfish Reef. Qifrey sighed loudly, burrowing his head in a cushion. 

“I still think Irina should have died.”

“Tragedy enjoyer,” Olruggio muttered reproachfully. 

“Let’s watch another one.” Qifrey reached for another thespitext. “This one is scary! I asked the librarian to give me the scariest one she had.”

Why on earth would Qifrey want to watch horror? He was just telling Beldaruit he had trouble sleeping! They’d talked about that only a few clock marks ago! Well, Beldaruit wouldn’t intervene. He’d get nowhere with Qifrey by just barring it. He’d supervise, like he was now.

Unfortunately, this proved to be a terrible idea. 

The scary thespitext turned out to be really scary indeed. About a vampire tormenting a family of witches. Olruggio buried his face into Qifrey’s arm when all the blood started. Qifrey’s back tensed, and then he was cuddling closer to Olruggio. Even Beldaruit, safe in his study and watching from only half an open door, cringed at the sound effects and gore.

Maybe he ought to put a stop to this—

Qifrey gasped and let out a short cry. Olruggio slammed the thespitext shut. “Qifrey. Qifrey, hey, just breathe. It’s okay, breathe.”

Beldaruit was moving before he even knew what happened. Qifrey was curled in on himself, hyperventilating into his palms. Olruggio didn’t leave his side, but did scooch a bit to give Beldaruit room as the sealchair lowered itself.

“We were watching a scary one,” Olruggio confessed. He didn’t know Beldaruit had been paying attention. “The vampire pulled out this kid’s eyes…”

“Oh dear.” Beldaruit didn’t touch him. Not when he was in this state. “Qifrey,” he said, gentle but firm. “I am here. Olruggio is here. You are at home. You are safe. Can you hear me?”

Qifrey nodded, though he didn’t lower his hands. He was rocking back and forth. Beldaruit whipped out his palm quire. He wanted so badly to pick Qifrey up and hug him, but it would have the opposite effect. He needed a safe distraction. By now, Beldaruit had experience. This wasn’t Qifrey’s first panic attack, and unfortunately, it wouldn’t be his last.

The spell was familiar now. A glowing blue dragon shot out of the palm quire, bringing with it a rainbow and twinkling stars. Qifrey loved dragons. The smoke sculpture swooped over their heads. Olruggio gasped, almost reaching to touch it before he caught himself. The dragon curled around Qifrey, resting its head on his lap. His eye wide and far away, Qifrey still managed to pet it. His breathing evened out. 

“Are you with us?” Beldaruit checked, when nobody had spoken for several minutes.

Qifrey swallowed and nodded. He wiped a stray tear off his face. “S-sorry,” he said, shakily. “I didn’t know…I didn’t think…”

“Hey, it’s okay!” Olruggio smiled. He pressed his temple into Qifrey’s shoulder. “As long as you’re feeling better, that’s all that matters.”

“Olruggio is right.” Beldaruit still didn’t touch him. Wasn’t sure it was safe. But Qifrey was petting the dragon’s head ceaselessly. “Can we agree on a new rule, though? No scary movies until you’re older?”

It was almost alarming how easily Qifrey acquiesced. Didn’t even argue. Just nodded. “Agreed.”

“Let’s watch something else,” Olruggio suggested after a while. Qifrey had calmed down by then. He flipped through the various thespitexts, until he found one that seemed more appropriate. “Hey! This one looks cute! The main characters are brushbuddies!” 

“Okay,” Qifrey said, with a watery smile. He wiped his face again, and then said, “Master, I’m okay now. You can go.”

“All right…” Beldaruit said reluctantly. 

“But…” Qifrey’s grip tightened on the dragon. “Flamewing can stay.”

Right. That’s what Qifrey had named the dragon illusion. Flamewing. 

Beldaruit felt at least a little better at that. The dragon spell could last all night if it had to. He’d experimented with several versions until he found one that worked best. Flamewing’s presence was the only thing that helped Qifrey feel safe on bad nights, when even the light spells wouldn't suffice.

Beldaruit scribbled another spell, but didn’t complete the ring. He handed it to Qifrey. “Here’s the seal to dismiss her, whenever you feel ready for it.” 

“Thanks.” Qifrey took it without complaint, and then Beldaruit retreated to his study again. He kept a closer eye now. The boys—and Flamewing—settled in to watch a third movie. Qifrey and Olruggio took turns flipping the thespitext’s pages. This story, about two brushbuddies on a comic adventure, elicited laughter from Qifrey and Olruggio both. Disaster averted. 

After the third movie, at last, the boys put away the cushions and folded up the blanket. Beldaruit caught them as they were heading to Qifrey’s room. “Off to bed?” he asked, unable to keep the hope from his voice. The sooner they slept, the better. It was so late. They were still babies! 

“You said no bedtimes,” Qifrey cried, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You said.”

“Yes, I did.” A decision Beldaruit was already regretting. “It was just a question.”

“We’re going to play a card game,” Olruggio interjected. “I know this really fun one from Ghodrey. Have you heard of centaur snap, Master Beldaruit?” 

“I’m what they call a centaur snap expert, Olruggio.” Beldaruit winked. He knew all manner of card games. With nothing to do during long stays in hospital, Beldaruit had to find ways to entertain himself. 

“Cool!” Olruggio cried. “I bet you have some amazing stories from your own sleepovers, huh?”

Qifrey was pulling Olruggio by the hand. Literally dragging him away. “Come on, Olly. I want to start the game.”

Flamewing, the dragon, was ahead of them both, hovering outside Qifrey’s bedroom door with an impatient flick of its smoke tail. 

Beldaruit smiled. “Actually, I never had a sleepover when I was young.”

Qifrey stopped. 

Olruggio looked stricken. “What?” he cried. “Why not? Did your master not let you?”

“Oh—well…” Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut? Too late now. “Ah, I was always sick, you see. My parents greatly restricted my movements. I never even studied at an atelier. I was home-schooled.” 

Young Olruggio looked embarrassed to have asked. He dropped his gaze and brought his fist to his chest, an apparent nervous gesture. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” 

“Oh, gosh, child, don’t apologise! As you can see, I’m no worse for wear! Go on,” he ushered them off. “Go play! I’ll be in my study, reading, if you need me.”

Qifrey was glaring at him with a narrow eye and a thin-lipped mouth. His expression was deeply searching, and once again, Beldaruit couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. Was he annoyed? Perhaps Beldaruit had brought down the energy of the evening by revealing his nonsense sob stories. It was so long ago that it didn’t matter anymore. He thought nothing of it. 

With a final tug, Qifrey pulled Olruggio down the hall. He was almost to his bedroom before he looked back at Beldaruit, the same confounding expression in his eye. Then the door swung open, and they disappeared behind it.

Beldaruit sighed.

He hoped he’d get better at reading the boy with time. Some days, he swore they connected. But those moments were fleeting. He cared about Qifrey, and Qifrey very likely knew that. He knew Qifrey cared for him. But to care was one thing. To understand, to know, that was quite another. 

Beldaruit was halfway through his novel, and contemplating going to bed himself, when he heard Qifrey cross the hall and go to the kitchen. A midnight snack, perhaps. He’d heard that was a sleepover tradition. A few moments later, the study door creaked open. Qifrey stood there with a bowl of salted caramel nuts. 

“You’re old,” he stated bluntly. 

Beldaruit blinked. “I’m a lot younger than you think!” 

“Yeah, but like, you’re old.”

“I suppose? Why?”

Qifrey shifted from one foot to another. His eye trailed the carpet, before swinging up to meet Beldaruit again. “You’ve never had a sleepover with a friend? In your whole old life?”

Beldaruit couldn’t say that he had had adult sleepovers. Many a bedfellow had been lovely to him over the years. But that wasn’t something he’d tell a nine-year-old, and it wasn’t what Qifrey was asking about.

“It’s okay, Qifrey,” he said gently. “Don’t feel bad for me! I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I don’t feel bad for you,” Qifrey growled, his shoulders almost to his ears. But then he slumped, with a sigh, and approached. He presented the dragon-dissipating seal from his pocket. He’d closed the ring. Dismissed Flamewing, then. “Thank you. The dragon helped.”

“I’m glad.” Beldaruit accepted the paper. “Go on, Qifrey. I swear, I’m not upset. I’m reading a wonderful book.” 

He eyed it. 

“It looks like a book with all the big words.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Give me one.”

“A big word?”

Qifrey nodded. 

Beldaruit scanned the page he was on until his gaze snagged on the first multi-syllabic word he saw. “Endearment,” he said. 

“Endearment?” Qifrey tilted his head.

“It means to express love or fondness. Here’s the sentence.” Beldaruit turned the book and pointed, so Qifrey could read. 

He read it haltingly: “Arag…Arafin heard the term of…” Qifrey frowned, “en…oh. Endearment…and his heart warmed.” 

“Well done!” Beldaruit clapped. “Your reading is getting stronger every day.” 

“What’s that mean? ‘Term of endearment’?”

“It’s like a name you call someone you love. Like when I call you ‘brushbug’ or 'darling'. Or like how you call Olruggio ‘Olly’. It’s like a nickname.” 

Instead of accepting the answer, Qifrey hesitated. He shifted his weight again, and fidgeted with his free hand, digging the nail of his thumb into his forefinger. “We’re setting up a new round of centaur snap. Olly is kicking my butt. D’you…want to come play? I need some help stopping him. He’s won twice already.” 

Beldaruit’s eyes went wide of their own accord. Qifrey was blushing fiercely again.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he added, when Beldaruit took a moment too long to reply. He turned to go, but Beldaruit caught his sleeve.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Qifrey. I promise, I’m not sad. Olruggio asked me a question, so I answered it. I didn’t feel the need to lie.” 

“Do you want to play or not?” Qifrey retorted, without much real heat. “You can’t claim you’re a ‘centaur snap expert’ if you don’t prove it.” 

Beldaruit shut the novel and set it aside. “Okay, my dear little brushbug,” he laughed. “Lead the way.” 

Qifrey hanging off Beldaruit's chair was inspired by Yakichoufd's art. Check it out below or on tumblr (link in notes)