Two spoonfuls of sugar, no milk. Feyla nodded her head in satisfaction as she finished stirring the sugar into Sedgewick's coffee. She tucked a stack of papers under her arm and marched out of the small kitchen in the Magic Ministry. Now I just need to bring this and Sedgewick's presentation notes to him and make sure he's not wearing that robe with the hole in the elbow.

Lord's season. Feyla shook off the tiredness that was already trying to descend and crinkled her nose in distaste. That meant long hours helping Sedgewick prep presentations while listening to him complain about having to socialize with the lords and ladies. It meant evenings spent alone and worrying while Sedgewick juggled his duties at the palace and immediately rushed off to stomp down the spike in crime that always rose with the temperatures. It meant having to shrug off the titters and smug looks of the ladies as they continued to remind Feyla of her place long after the disastrous end to her relationship with Lord Beryn. It meant—

Feyla pushed away that negative spiral, leaving it in the Magic Ministry as she stepped into the summer heat. Her eyes fell to the necklace laying against her breast. At least there were some good things that came with lord's season.

My Sedgewick. Feyla gripped the necklace in one hand and held her head a little higher. It had taken a long time for her to be able to say that and now that she finally could, she was going to take full advantage of it. After all, the reverse had been true for ages.

She'd never forget their first meeting. It was kind of hard to forget someone insulting you the way Sedgewick had.

They'd been chosen for a mission to help protect the now-queen Eleyna, and Sedgewick had made it very clear how little he thought of everyone else's contribution. Feyla, then a shining example of healer philosophies, hadn't liked the idea of working with a mage much better. Oh, he'd made her so mad... Mad enough to throw words she now regretted right back at him. Yet despite their rocky start, the two managed to forge an alliance.

Feyla laughed under her breath. That had been a surprise. Even more of a surprise had been the realization that when he said something besides clipped answers and dead-end responses, the Minister of Magic was almost cute. Sedgewick had vindicated her once they were together by admitting he'd been thinking similar. The mission they were on had been going well.

But then everything went wrong.

As their plans fell to pieces, Feyla found herself pinned to the floor while the man above her slowly choked her life away. Her battle healer training failed her. She'd panicked. And then she'd done the one thing she had vowed never to do.

Even now, with the sun shining on her neck as Feyla crossed the courtyard that separated the Magic Ministry from the palace, a cold, heavy guilt settled on her at the memory. After that, everything she'd once been certain of crumbled while a single new resolve had risen in its place; she was leaving the healers and never coming back.

Feeling as broken as her vows, Feyla collapsed onto the cold floor, shaking so hard she hadn't even heard him sitting down beside her. And, in a show of tenderness that she'd only seen a glimpse of when he was around Eleyna, Sedgewick had comforted her. Feyla could have brushed it off as a one-time show of decency but it hadn't stopped there. After they'd snatched back a victory and the adrenaline had worn off, Sedgewick offered to take her back to the capital with him as his assistant for as long as she needed. Which considering Sedgewick used to go through assistants like a wealthy woman went through dresses, was quite the promise.

She'd only intended to stay for a year at most. But then a year stretched into ten. And then ten years turned into ten decades until before she knew it, Feyla was so far gone that leaving Sedgewick was the farthest thing from her mind.

Feyla pulled herself out of her memories and nodded hello to the guardsmen at the palace's side entrance. She picked up her pace, her sandals hitting the cold floor inside, polished to a mirrored gleam in preparations for the arriving nobility. She weaved through servants, lower-level officials, and fellow assistants with a practiced ease. The hall outside the main council chamber was busy, but Feyla spotted Sedgewick ducking down a different corridor away from the crowd. She sped up until she caught him standing in front of a few old paintings of long-dead royalty.

Feyla's breath staggered, and it wasn't from the speed-walking. Sedgewick had brushed his chin-length red hair back and was holding his hat in his hands. He wore a new light brown robe embroidered with bronze-orange thread. It was open in the front, revealing a darker brown tunic underneath. The robe clung to his shoulders and waist, a far cry from the too-large coats and over shirts that continued to plague his closet despite her best efforts. He looked like a magical prince from the days when mages were said to have ruled the world.

"And here I was worried you were going to wear that old one with the hole." She smiled and held out the coffee. "I come bearing gifts."

Sedgewick places his hat on his head. He cracked a half-smile and took the cup.

Feyla handed him the notes as well and then wrapped her now free arms around his shoulders. "You look very handsome. I almost thought I'd stepped into one of my old novels." She nuzzled his cheek, letting Sedgewick's familiar scent of papers, plants, and magic wrap around her. The council would start soon, and Feyla would have to share him with the kingdom for the rest of summer, but for now, he was all hers.

Sedgewick chuckled hollowly. He set his notes down on the small table in front of the painting and took a sip of his coffee, staring at it like it was telling him secrets. Feyla was about to ask what they were when he finally spoke.

"Do you...like your necklace?"

Feyla's lips pursed as her arms fell to her side. He hesitated too long. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. "I love it. It's beautiful," she said, still eyeing him carefully.

Sedgewick reached out and pulled on the chain, his finger skimming down her neck until he'd grabbed the gem. "I forgot to show you something yesterday." He flipped the gem over, revealed a tiny piece of rune disc in the back. "It's a...precaution. If you put a bit of magic in this disc—" Sedgewick demonstrated. "Then this—" He pulled out a small glass orb, glowing orange, out of his robe. "Lights up. So I'll know if you're ever in trouble. Try not to trigger it accidentally. I'm still working on the sensitivity."

Feyla wrapped her hands around Sedgewick's. She shouldn't encourage Sedgewick's protective streak. He worried enough as it was. But her cheeks were already heating up and killing her chance to roll her eyes and fake irritation, so she might as well embrace her betrothed's subdued way of showing affection. "I'll be careful. Now tell me what's really wrong. I know you're stalling. Is it the council meeting?"

Sedgewick dropped the necklace and pulled his hand away. He stared back at the painting, a line in his brow. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you, dearest?"

"Of course not. Lying is unbecoming."

"So if I asked you something, you would tell me the truth? Even if you didn't want to?"

Feyla crosses her arms. "Sedgewick, what is this about?"

Sedgewick slammed his hands on the little table, splattering drops of coffee on his notes. "What do you know about Dormaeus the Lordkiller?"

His new betrothed's face blanched, her lips parting like he'd smacked her. It took her several moments to smooth her expression back to something approaching neutral. Feyla has never been skilled at hiding her true feelings. "He was a wizard," she answered. Her voice strained from trying to sound casual.

"And?"

Feyla stayed silent.

"Did you know he was still alive?"

She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered like it wasn't summer.

"Answer me!" he whispered sharply. They were still close to the servants and the rest of the presenters. "I saw the record. I know you were involved."

"I wasn't just involved," Feyla finally snapped, her ocean eyes darkening to a storm. She stuck her chin out, a fragment of pride in her voice. "I'm the one who caught him."

Sedgewick gaped at her. His words scattered and clumped poorly back together. "You— you caught Dormaeus the Lordkiller? The wizard?"

Ships crashed in Feyla's sea-eyes. "Is it so hard to believe?"

"Oh, no, you do not get to twist this around onto me. We're on the cusp of being bonded and you never even hinted at this? 'Oh, by the way, Sedgewick, you know that thing you've done for a living for most of your life? I did it once too!'" Sedgewick growled under his breath. "And then you try to lecture me about honesty."

"I didn't lie to you!" Feyla shouted. Her fists clenched, the muscles in her arms going taut. "I wasn't allowed to talk about it."

"Did you know that Dormaeus was alive?" Sedgewick dropped his voice low, using a tone he typically saved for when the other mages had disappointed him.

Tears welled in her eyes, tugging at the string she'd knotted to his heart. Not your Feyla, the twinge in his chest seemed to say. You can't stay mad at her.

Gates, he hated feeling more than one emotion at once.

"Sedgewick, please, you have to understand. I'm not supposed to talk about it to anyone. And even if I was..." Feyla bite her lip and wrapped her hands around the necklace he'd given her. "I don't really like thinking about back then."

Sedgewick tried to hold onto his anger, but it ebbed away despite his efforts. His reached out and stroked her cheek, sliding his finger up past her face and along the edge of her long pointed ear before brushing across the sensitive tip with his thumb. An intimate gesture, one that would be inappropriate were they not engaged. Sedgewick shook his head. "I can't let a wizard roam the streets. Not when you're out there as well."

Feyla flushed, the color peeking through her dusky skin. "He can't hurt anyone anymore," she whispered. Her voice was pleading and persuasive in a way his never could be. "I meant what I said before, I won't lie to you. But you have to believe me when I say I can't tell you anything else. And I don't want to fight. Please."

Sedgewick jerked his head away and went back to staring at the paintings of dead rulers. There was only one curse, one that Sedgewick was unfortunately intimate with, which could have made Dormaeus powerless, but it hadn't been invented at the time of his arrest. Feyla had always had a bleeding heart. Had Dormaeus somehow convinced her and the other healers that he wanted to reform? If that was the case then it changed nothing. No man who murdered an innocent family should get to live a quiet life free of repercussions.

"Master Alverdyne!" shouted the castle steward as he rounded the corner. "They are about to begin! You should have been in position by now." The spidery man tugged at his collar and gave Feyla a glare as punishment for failing her assistantly duties.

Sedgewick rolled his eyes and snatched up his presentation notes. He turned to go, but Feyla grabbed his sleeve at the last minute.

"I'll see you tonight, right? At the gala?" Her ears were craned forward, waiting for reassurance that she would see him again. That they were all right.

The steward tapped his foot in impatience. Sedgewick shot him a glare before turning back to Feyla. He gave her a slight smile, not quite what she wanted but all he manage at the moment. "I would hope so." Sedgewick leaned closer, conscious of the watching steward. "You're the only thing that makes it bearable."

Feyla smiled weakly at that, but her hand still clung to her new necklace.

Sedgewick turned and walked away. He forced his irritatingly conflicting feelings into a box at the pit of his stomach and slammed the lid closed. Adjusting his hat, he ignored the steward's frantic ranting and scanned his eyes over his notes. Points and counterpoint and facts and research; these were what he should be focusing on. Not the woman who had brought them to him.

And certainly not the vague sense of betrayal he'd locked away.