Feyla quickly learned that the only thing more annoying than the unrequited love of a mage deep in denial was the requited love of a mage deeply distracted.

After practically dragging her to get those notes, Sedgewick had insisted they leave Feyla's cozy, well-furnished inn for his bare-bones one, saying that his was harder to find and less conspicuous. She had a room across the hall now but currently, she was sitting on the bed in Sedgewick's. He'd moved the only chair closer to the bed to make himself a makeshift desk. Tyrinn's notes were spread out before him in an order only Sedgewick could understand. His mouth was grim with concentration before softening into that sly smile he had whenever he figured something out. Feyla gazed at him fondly while he once again rearranged the notes.

"So, I'll freely admit that the timing for this conversation is REALLY terrible. I mean, we are pretty much fugitives and I know that we still have to deal with Tyrinn and all but...are we a couple now?"

Sedgewick made some sort of grunt in response and Feyla took that as an encouragement.

"Not that I'm obsessed with labels but..." Feyla bit her cheek and fiddled with a strand of hair. "Actually, yes, I'm pretty obsessed with labels," she finished, looking back over toward Sedgewick.

"Labels..." he muttered. "Yes! Labels, that's it!"

Feyla straightened, waiting for Sedgewick to say that of course they were a couple and hadn't he been silly to take so long to realize that and would she like another kiss?

"He labeled these using the Ancient's Script, not our modern version! That's why this order looked off!" Sedgewick turned to her and grinned like a schoolboy. Feyla returned it with a deadpan glare.

He tilted his head to the side, his disappointingly black hair slipping out from behind his ear. "Are you all right, Feyla? You didn't hurt yourself jumping in the canal, did you?"

The corner of Feyla's eye twitched. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that just because Sedgewick loved her didn't mean that he wasn't still Sedgewick. And the Sedgewick she knew never saved headspace for anything else when he was working with magic. "I'm okay. Have you figured it out yet?"

His ears perked up in that way she'd always found adorable. "Come, let me show you."

Sedgewick stood from the chair and held out a hand. Feyla took it and he pulled her off the bed to stand beside him. Picking up one of the pages, Sedgewick smacked a finger against a line of runes. "Now see this? The handwriting is obviously different from all the rest which means Tyrinn didn't write this page. It's written in the Ancient's Script and describes a spell used as a punishment for rogue mages during the First Age. The problem? It's incomplete." His amber eyes lit up as he grabbed her arm and dragged them both further down the line of papers. "Now if you look at the runes on these—" He picked up more papers. "And these. Tyrinn attempted to finish the spell, but First Age advancements being First Age advancements, he couldn't. So, he resorted to crudely filling in the blanks with black magic."

Feyla gasped in understanding. "That's why he needed Bilara!"

"The snake wanted to keep his hands clean enough to snatch my position once I was out of the way," Sedgewick growled.

"Can you break it now? Have you figured it out?" asked Feyla, gripping his arm.

Sedgewick turned back to her and swallowed as if he'd just realized how close they were. "Well, I know how it works which is a definite improvement. As for breaking it..." Sedgewick went silent, clenching his jaw as his eyes fell.

As Sedgewick stared at the floor, Feyla saw something she'd never expected to see in the self-proclaimed 'Greatest mage in Abreyla'. Doubt. Fear, even. The solution to all his problems lay before him yet after so many failures, the uncertainty of hope seemed to crush him harder than he was crushing the pages in his shaking hands. Sedgewick looked so uncertain, so strangely vulnerable that Feyla felt as if simply by staring, she was intruding on his private thoughts.

Sedgewick snapped back to her. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened as if he'd realized what she'd seen in him. He relaxed his hands and smoothed out the papers before smacking them firmly—and decisively—on the bed. "Yes." Sedgewick stared at her, forcing her notice the cold determination now in his eyes. "I'm going to fix this."

He brushed past her, snatched up his bag, and began rifling through it. "Take this," Sedgewick said right before he tossed a book in her direction.

Feyla fumbled for the well-worn book, finally catching it. Her brow furrowed as she caught sight of the title; The Fundamentals of Magic. "And I'm supposed to do what with this?"

"Read it, obviously. Breaking a curse this complex with an untested spell is either suicidal or stupid and I—" He finally looked up from the bag and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Am neither of those things. Which means that since I don't fancy blowing your face off, I'm going to need the proper materials. A spell-weaver to ensure the spell is safe and the rune disc materials so that you can provide me with the necessary magic without having to master advanced curse breaking overnight. Take the book and brush up on basic casting and rune disc usage. And one more thing."

Sedgewick tossed a sack at her. Feyla snatched it out of the air only to catch herself in surprise as she realized how heavy the coin-stuffed bag was. She shot him a scowl but it melted away when he came up beside her and placed his warm hand on her lower back. The gesture wasn't inappropriate but it felt tender in a way she wasn't used to from Sedgewick. Her face grew warm and she scarcely noticed that he'd led her to his door until her shoulder gently brushed against the doorframe.

"I can't exactly go through legal avenues to procure what we need anymore. Luckily, I know a man who makes a living off situations like ours. There's a bathhouse around the corner and a shop with some sort of silk frippery in the window down the street. Pick out something nice." Sedgewick paused as if remembering something important before continuing with more than a hint of concern in his voice. "But not TOO nice, you understand? Nothing too..." He cleared his throat. "Never mind. I have notes to review."

Feyla snapped out of her haze. She grabbed his sleeve as he turned to go. "Hold your notes, master mage. I'm still kinda lost here."

"Isn't it obvious? I'm meeting with an old ally. A man named Crayden; he owes me a favor. And—" Sedgewick smirked in a way that was almost...flirty? "I'm buying you a drink."

And with that, he closed the door on her.

Feyla stared at the door. Had Sedgewick just said he was taking her on some sort of weird illegal trading date?

That thought was soon replaced with the annoying realization that Sedgewick's idea of a first date was buying a drink for a woman who doesn't drink alcohol. Feyla rolled her eyes but couldn't keep from smiling. That man. Hopefully, he meant that he'd get her a nice cup of tea.

At least I know the evening won't be boring, she thought before leaving to put her book away and take a well-deserved bath.

Zedeya had spent far too much time fighting her way to the top of a witch's guild to not recognize when someone was being manipulative. And Tyrinn was currently pulling out all the stops. He'd cleared Sedgewick's desk of all its personal items and sat behind it as if the position was already his. There was one man in charge now and Tyrinn was ensuring everyone would know who it was. Zedeya relaxed into the seat behind the assistant's desk and watch as Tyrinn remained silent for a moment, giving Mydel time to squirm. Finally, he laced his hands together and look up. "You've always impressed me, Mydel."

"Thank you, Master Tyrinn," Mydel muttered uncomfortably, glancing back at Zedeya. She gave him a sarcastic little wave and he quickly looked away.

"A mage your age making the Ministry. Don't usually see that."

Flattery. Not always effective but with someone as obviously insecure as Mydel, Tyrinn stood a better chance of it succeeding.

"I'm honored to be here, sir," Mydel answered, fiddling with the hat in his hands.

"I know these last few days have been difficult for everyone. Myself especially." Tyrinn paused as if he needed a moment to collect himself. She had to give the man credit, he was quite the actor.

"It's just so hard to believe that Master Alverdyne would do something like this. I thought he hated people like..." Mydel glanced back at Zedeya. She scowled at him in return and he quickly turned away. "You know."

Tyrinn stood from his chair. He walked around the desk and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "If Master Alverdyne is innocent then he should have no trouble defending himself in a fair trial. Our job is to find him and make sure he gets that. I'm going to Vacia in the morning. I'd like you to go with me but I need to know that I can count on you to do your job. No matter what happens. Can you handle that?"

Zedeya peeked at Mydel's hands. They were twisting his hat brim as much as his obvious conflicted feelings were twisting him up inside. "What—" Mydel swallowed. "What about Miss Everbloom?"

Tyrinn's ear gave a minuscule twitch. He'd been furious at the trick she'd pulled on them. The witch-turned-sorceress shifted in her seat as a twinge of pain reminded her of being tackled to the ground by that guardsman. Whatever Tyrinn decided to do with that girl, she dearly hoped he'd let her watch.

"I don't know what hold Master Alverdyne has over Miss Everbloom," Tyrinn answered sadly while rubbing his temple.

Mydel shot up, his hat now clenched in fury as all signs of inner conflict vanished. "You think he has a spell on her?"

"Nothing's been confirmed but given what Master Alverdyne has done so far, it's definitely possible."

Aha. There's the reason he wanted this one, Zedeya thought. The young mage was clearly smitten. Even if their targets tried to convince him of the truth, he wouldn't believe them. Not when the lie was so much sweeter. Not when it let him play the hero and rescue the spell-struck damsel from the manipulative wizard. She looked at Tyrinn and smiled. He continued to impress her.

A few moments later, Tyrinn sent a much more accommodating Mydel out the door. He locked it firmly and gave her a wolfish grin. "I love this job."

"I love watching you do it," Zedeya shot back as she leaned over the desk and propped her chin on her palm.

Tyrinn slid up onto the desk and chuckled. "In just a few days, Sedgewick will be dead, I'll be the Minister, and you, sweetheart, will be marked down as a 'misguided victim who has seen the error of her ways'," he finished, stating the last part with theatrical exuberance.

"And then what happens?" Zedeya asked, staring up at the man who had grown in her esteem so quickly.

"Well, you could always move into this desk. I could use a sorceress on my side. And besides," he said, leaning closer. "Why should Alverdyne be the only one with a lovely assistant? Now pack your bags, sweetheart. We're going to Vacia."