It was like discovering an illusion spell.  Something felt...not quite right but you didn't know what.  Then you'd finally notice a discrepancy and everything fell into place.  Your vision shifted, the flaws became clear, leaving you wondering how you didn't notice them in the first place.

The ship cabin vanished around Sedgewick as soon as that name left the wizard's lips.  A numbing calmness overtook him as the long-awaited name sunk in.  It all made sense now.

Who was one of the many mages he'd granted Tower Access to?

Tyrinn.

Who had been in the Ministry long enough to know about his connection to Bilara—and her skill?

Tyrinn.

Who had "failed" to catch the witches' guild that Zedeya led?

Tyrinn.

Who knew him well enough to place him in the perfect situation to strike him with the curse?

Tyrinn.

And who had long expressed a hostile, jealous attitude toward his superior?

Tyrinn.

The world around him surged into focus.  Feyla was frantically questioning Vin, who was insisting that yes, his name was definitely Tyrinn and was she there? No?

Sedgewick grabbed the boy by the hair.  He hissed as Sedgewick yanked him closer.  "You worked near her.  You trained under her.  I refuse to believe you didn't learn something about breaking the curse during that time."

The young man sneered, his pale face red with fury.  "Well, I guess you could try dropping dead."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Feyla.

Sedgewick's head snapped to Feyla, startled over what she said.  Or rather, the way she said it.

Feyla's voice was dark, darker than he'd ever heard it before and her aqua eyes had deepened to a stormy green filled with an anger that matched the ocean itself.  She stood from the floor, her arms crossed as she looked down, obviously expecting an answer.

Vin swallowed as he stared nervously at the woman who up till now, had been the "nice one" of his two captors.

A warm, fluttery feeling bumped against Sedgewick's chest as he realized that Feyla wasn't angry at him, she was angry over him.  Sedgewick dropped the wizard back beside one of the cots and shot to his feet.  A slight smile tugged at his lips but he swallowed it back down as Feyla turned her stormy gaze on him.  "He's just being difficult.  You see, magic essences is made by living things—"

"I know that," Feyla snapped.

"Of course, of course," he soothed before continuing.  "But since curses burrow into magic essence, if the...victim...dies, so does the curse."

Feyla's jaw clenched.  "You're not dying."

The fluttery feeling returned with a vengeance and Sedgewick found himself stepping over Vin to be closer to her. "I don't plan to.  But thank you for your concern."

Feyla flushed.  "Don't read into it!  I just spent too much time saving you for you to drop dead.  That's all."

"A—hem."

They both turned back to the forgotten wizard.

"If you and your wife are done arguing—"

Sedgewick flushed twice as red as Feyla before tensing like an angry cat.  "She is not my wife!"

"He's not my husband!"

"Could've fooled me."

"Shut up, boy, the adults are speaking," Sedgewick sneered back.

Something snapped in the young wizard as his body clenched while he sucked in a deep breath.

Sedgewick and Feyla exchanged a wordless look.  Feyla reached forward and jabbed Vin's neck before he could shout.  He slumped to the floor unconscious.  Together, they dragged him onto one of the cots and Feyla administered another dose of the sleeping mixture.

Sedgewick sighed.  Tyrinn.  After all those years of the man working under him and fighting alongside him...

If Tyrinn had turned into a wizard or (perish the thought) quit to go work under the Archmage, he might have felt a twinge of sadness.  He was a competent mage and Sedgewick was used to him even if they'd never been particularly fond of each other.  But currently, sadness and disappointment were the farthest things from his mind.  The truth finally began to sink in and a cold anger rose up in its place.  As his anger grew, the room seemed to shrink, trapping him as much as the curse was.  Sedgewick shook his head as if trying to shake off the room's oppressive presence.  "I need to think.  Excuse me."

Sedgewick trudged up the steps onto the ship deck.  The deck was empty except for a ship hand on the opposite side of the boat, his irritatingly cheery whistle the only thing breaking the silence of the night.  Sedgewick leaned against the boat railing and stared listlessly out over the water.  He finally knew who instigated the curse but still remained no closer to breaking it.

At least I now know who can give me the answers, Sedgewick thought.  Tyrinn was a decent mage but Sedgewick had dozens of other mages under him.  And the law was on his side.  Consorting with a known sorceress, assisting in the creation of a black magic curse; these alone would get Tyrinn imprisoned for a very long time.

Assuming I let him make it there alive.  Sedgewick clenched the railing of the boat deck until his knuckles went white and splinters pierced his skin.  To be brought so low, made so uselessly weak, by Tyrinn of all people.  He would have laughed if he wasn't so furious.

Feyla came up beside him.  "We need to talk."

A second wave of anger hit him as Sedgewick realized another thing Tyrinn had stolen.  If Tyrinn hadn't cursed him then Feyla and he would never have gone to Kingsford.  They wouldn't have fought and he would never have hurt her.  They could have continued on as before...

"Sedgewick."

He clenched the railing even tighter as that realization struck him.  "Yes?" he answered stiffly.

Feyla paused as she took in his tense form and white knuckles.  "Are you okay?" she asked, her formally hard voice softening.

Sedgewick laughed harshly.  "Oh yes, I'm just dandy.  You hate me, my second-in-command betrayed me, my magic's gone; it's just been a splendid time.  Can't you tell?"

Feyla's lips pursed but she contained her obvious frustration.  "Silly question, I guess.  So, what are you planning to do now?"

"Go back to the capital and kill that traitorous little—"

Feyla's eyes widened in horror as she gasped.  "Sedgewick, you—you can't kill him!  He needs to stand trial and—"

"Stand trial?  Do you hear yourself?  Do you have any idea the plotting and work that he must have put into this scheme?  Do you honestly expect him to roll over and go quietly?"

"But once he understands that he's failed—"

"He'll lash out like a cornered dragon!"

"But he hasn't even hurt anyone yet!  If you just try and reason with—"

"'Hasn't hurt anyone'?!"

Feyla reached toward him in an attempt at comfort.  "Sedgewick, I know what he did to you but he hasn't tried to kill anyone and I'm sure that if we just—"

"He's murdering everything I've built!  He ruined what's most important to me; what do you expect me to do?!" Sedgewick shouted.

Feyla's hand stopped in midair.  Her lips parted as she stared at him, pain glistening in her eyes. Jerking her hand back, she stalked away.

A memory of that night in the gardens flashed before his eyes as history repeated itself.  No, he could fix it this time. 

This time, he went after her.

"Feyla, wait!" he called out behind her.

"Just stay away from me, Sedgewick!"

He caught up to her and trapped her in an embrace.  "I didn't mean it like that.  Don't go.  Please," he whispered near her ear.

"Oh, I think you meant it exactly like that," she snapped, squirming out of his hold.  "And why would you care if I left?  The only thing you've ever cared about is yourself and your precious magic!"

"That is not true!"  Sedgewick shouted.  "Don't act like you know what I've felt.  Or who I've cared for."

"I don't know because you won't tell me," Feyla said, crossing her arms.  "And I'm done asking."  She turned to go.

"Wait!"  He reached out and grabbed her arm.

"What?"

Sedgewick's mouth went dry.  His stomach dropped as he once again felt as if he was standing on a precipice.  What lay at the bottom, he was still too scared to learn.  "I—" He stopped.  "I do care."

Feyla stopped, her eyes wary.  "About what?"

He released her arm and ran a hand through his hair.  Sedgewick felt his face grow warm as the precipice seemed to draw closer.  "Feyla—" He stopped to collect his scattered thoughts.  "You've been with me for many years now and I lo—like.  I like having you with me; I'm very fond of you.  Very...fond."

Feyla choked out a strangled laugh.  It cut through the night breeze, harsh and broken.  "Fond?  You're fond of me?  Oh, thank you for those flattering word, Master Alverdyne."  Her chest heaved as she choked back a sob.  "They really soothe my—" She stopped herself again and wiped her eyes.  "You know, it doesn't even matter.  I only came up here to tell you that saving you doesn't change anything.  I'm still quitting."  Feyla met his gaze, defiance in her eyes.  "Beryn offered me a job.  I'm moving to Kingsford."

The precipice vanished but the ground underneath him seemed to cave in.  "Beryn?  Kingsford?  Feyla, I need you—you can't go work for that—"

"Well, I don't need you, so stay out of my life, Sedgewick Alverdyne!"  Feyla gave him one final pain-filled glare before running away.

Sedgewick stood there staring after her as she ran out of his life.  As lost to him as his magic was.

" 'Scuse me sir, but could you and the missus keep it down?  I'm trying' to keep watch here," said the formerly whistling ship hand.

"Oh, shut up," Sedgewick snarled.