Magic's Memories

Chapter Seven

"So what you're saying is that you wussed out."

Sedgewick scowled at the young Lord Beryn of Kingsford sitting across the chessboard from him. The other man leaned over his chair and smiled smugly while he made his move, utterly at home in the lavish palace suite he was staying in.

"I did not 'wuss out'," Sedgewick insisted. He moved a piece without paying much attention. "I couldn't tell her why I wanted her to go with me so badly without upsetting all my plans."

"Excuses, Master Alverdyne. All I hear is excuses. You could have talked her into it if you'd actually tried. It's only Feyla." He pulled himself up straight and morphed his face, the one that countless women, including Feyla herself years ago, had fallen for against their better judgment, into the most pitiful of expressions.

"But Dearest," he started, doing a surprisingly good imitation of Sedgewick's voice. "The only woman who puts up with me, I was so looking forward to eating in your presence. I know we do it practically every day because I'm obsessed with you, but is not every day a special occasion as long as we are together?"

Sedgewick's pointed ear twitched in irritation. "I don't sound like that."

Beryn chuckled. "No, that wasn't a good excuse and you still couldn't handle it. Which is too bad. It might have turned out better otherwise." He moved another one of his pieces and his voice softened. "I was sorry to hear what happened. How is Feyla now? Is she as model a patient as she always demands you be?"

"She's a perfect patient," he insisted. Feyla was perfect at whatever she did. "The wound was fresh enough for a healing spell so the worst of the damage should clear up by tomorrow." Sedgewick stared at the chessboard listlessly. Perhaps Beryn was right. If he'd been eloquent enough to convince Feyla to stay with him—or to let him go with her—then this wouldn't have happened.

"Please tell me you're using this as a chance to revise the plan."

Sedgewick bristled. "It is the same plan. If she's feeling up to it tomorrow, I'll take her by the place and—and ask her," he finished, choking over the words as a familiar cold panic slithered up his neck.

Beryn chuckled. "This is going to go worse than a shipwreck. Is there any way I could watch? Also, you're losing."

Sedgewick scowled at the young lord in answer. Beryn was known for his romantic gestures and had offered him multiple suggestions on how to pull this off, but Sedgewick was certain that if he tried to tackle one of Beryn's suggestions, he'd choke on the emotionalism in it and muss everything up. Safer to stick with his own. It was practical and straightforward.

He turned back to the chess board and took a long, sweeping look before moving one piece. "Checkmate."

Beryn blustered. "You aren't even paying attention. There's no way you managed to— Oh."

"Indeed."

Beryn leaned back in his chair in defeat. "This is why you don't have any friends."

"But the victory is so very satisfying." Sedgewick smirked.

Beryn's bronze-brown ears flicked back and he gave him a withering look before returning to the subject. "So, what are you planning to give the hopeful Madam Everbloom?"

Sedgewick clenched inwardly. Hopeful Madam Everbloom. He'd never been a hopeful person. "I have a necklace that was my mother's. It should do the job of a token nicely."

Beryn nodded in agreement. "Family heirloom. Good choice. Does it symbolize your parents' long and happy love?"

Sedgewick crinkled his nose, the thought too far from reality to imagine. "Hardly."