Magic and Loss

surrounding buildings into smeared outlines and hid us from any nosy neighbors. Although the streets seemed deserted, Hexe kept his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, just to be on the safe side.

As we headed back to the boardinghouse, I noticed that his shoulders were no longer stooped and that he now walked with a far more confident stride. I wasn’t sure how much of it was directly due to the gauntlet, or simply a placebo effect, but I was glad to see him more like his old self.

Upon our return to the boardinghouse Beanie came scampering out of the kitchen. He was so eager to tell us “hello,” he leapt up in the air like a two-tone springbok.

“I’m glad to see you, too!” Hexe laughed, reaching out to pet Beanie, only to have the dog suddenly yelp in alarm.

“What’s wrong, boy?” Hexe frowned as Beanie dropped his ears and drew away, shivering as if he was freezing.

“He’s freaked out because your hand doesn’t have the same scent as the rest of you,” Scratch explained as he entered the front parlor.

Hexe lifted the gauntlet to his nose and gave it a sniff. “I hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you mention it, it does smell like Erys. I guess that’s to be expected—it was in her possession for some time. No doubt it’ll eventually acquire my scent once I’ve worn it for a while.”

“A little heavy on the bling, don’t you think?” Scratch asked, eyeing his master’s silver-clad hand.

“It can glow in the dark, for all I care, just as long as it enables me to use my right hand.”

Later, as we prepared for bed, I found myself watching Hexe as he undressed, marveling at how the silver filigree mesh of the gauntlet gleamed like crushed ice on a hot summer day. Hexe caught me staring and halted his disrobing.

“Does the sight of it bother you?” he asked.

“No, I think it’s quite beautiful,” I replied truthfully. “But I’m uneasy about Madam Erys’ motivation for giving it to you. I don’t like that woman, Hexe, and I don’t trust her. Whenever she looks in my direction, I can feel hatred oozing out of her.”

“Granted, Madam Erys is a misanthrope,” Hexe agreed. “But there’s no reason to suspect her of anything more than calculated self-interest. It’s fairly common for tradesmen to curry favor from the Royal Family by presenting us with elaborate gifts in hopes of winning a royal warrant. Why do you think Lafo and Lorelei are always so glad to see me at their establishments? It’s not just because they’re my friends. Being able to claim a member of the Royal Family as a regular client still means something in Golgotham, even in this day and age. Sometimes it’s good to be the Witch King—or at least the Heir Apparent. And tonight was one of those times.”

“Does it feel like your hand?” I asked.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he smiled, sliding it along my naked body until it finally came to rest on my hip.

The silver chain mail was so tightly woven it was more like the skin of a snake than something forged from metal. Although his right hand felt slightly cool and distant against my flesh, it didn’t keep me from noticing how warm and close the rest of him was.

* * *

A couple of hours later, after thoroughly testing how his gauntleted hand held up under pressure (which turned out to be “pretty well”), I woke up from a sound sleep. I lay in the bed for a long moment, my thoughts still muzzy, trying to figure out what had jettisoned me back into the waking world. Did I have to pee? Was I thirsty? Was I tangled up in the bedclothes? Was Beanie snoring? Was Scratch kicking me in his sleep again?

As I ran down the checklist, answering “no” to each question, I became aware of a rhythmic tapping sound. I rose up on one elbow and looked down at Hexe, who was asleep on his back, his left arm carelessly thrown across his forehead and his right hand resting on his naked chest. The tapping noise—which I now realized was what had awakened me—was that of the fingers of his gauntleted hand drumming against his sternum, as if patiently biding their time.

Chapter 14

Now that he had regained the use of his right hand, Hexe was his old self once again. I was relieved to see the gleam back in his golden eyes and hear the confidence return to his voice. Since that very next day was my day off, Hexe had planned a leisurely, romantic breakfast for the two of us. However, those plans were quickly dashed by an unexpected knock.

Upon opening the door, Hexe was surprised to find his mother, Lady Syra, standing on the stoop. Before he could say hello, she breezed past him and into the front room.

“So, exactly when were you going to tell me I’m going to be a grandmother?” she asked, fixing him with a withering glare. “Before the baby arrived, or after?”

“How did you know—?” Hexe sputtered in surprise.

“Besides being your mother, I am also a professional astrologer,” she reminded him sharply. “And it so happens, while I was drawing up your father’s horoscope, as a present for his birthday— and don’t you dare tell him that’s what he’s getting—I saw in the stars that he was going to be a grandfather! Imagine my surprise! Especially since I was finding out from the orientation of Orion’s Belt and not my own son! I might as well have read it in the gossip column of the Gazette!”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Hexe apologized. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but Tate and I just wanted a little private time as a couple before everything goes crazy and the Blue Hairs start calling for my head on a pike.”

“Granted, the hard-line aristos are not going to be thrilled when they hear the news,” she sighed. “But that’s no reason to keep me out of the loop!”

“So—you’re not upset that we’re having a baby?” I asked anxiously.

“Heavens and hells, no!” Lady Syra exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. “I can’t wait to be a grandmamma!”

I blinked in surprise. “You mean you don’t have any problems with the new Heir Apparent being half human?”

An odd look crossed the Witch Queen’s face, which she quickly tried to camouflage by smiling. “Why don’t we deal with that problem when it arises, shall we? Whatever happens, I won’t love my grandchild any less.”

“What do you mean by ‘whatever happens’?” I asked suspiciously.

“You think our child is going to be a norlock, don’t you?” Hexe said flatly.

“A what-lock?” I frowned.

“It’s slang for Kymerans born incapable of working magic,” he explained grimly. “Their ‘extra’ fingers end at the second knuckle. My grandfather used to employ a norlock named Jake when I was a boy. He lived in a little cottage at the foot of the garden.”

“Please don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way, my dear,” Syra said apologetically. “But very few half-castes are born fully functional in the magic department. Understand I’m not trying to be negative, my dear; I’m just being practical. There is also a very good chance your child might not even be of Royal blood. . . .”

“Are you suggesting that Hexe isn’t the father?” I gasped.

“Of course not!” Lady Syra replied quickly. “It’s just that . . .”

“Just what, exactly?” I retorted, trying to keep hold of my temper.

“If the baby doesn’t have gold eyes, it can’t be recognized as heir to the Throne of Arum,” she replied, shifting about uncomfortably. “It can never be a member of the Royal Family.”

“Why are you so certain this will be the case with our child?” Hexe scowled.

“Because you’re not the first Heir Apparent to take a fancy to a human,” Lady Syra explained. “Great Uncle Jack, the one who built this house, had a child by a human mistress shortly before he