Swordwick, section one

[maderr]

Alright, you damned slave drivers. 'Tis done. Not beta'ed, cause I don't think any of my betas are around. I will make them get around to it at some point, before I try to do anything more serious than post this to my LJ (which, I feel I am allowed to use for unbeta'ed things).

Hopefully it is good. I wrote it so fast, that even reassured, I have to wonder. and b/c I know people will ask, Toki is probably up next, whenever I play in this verse again. cause god friggin' forbid I write one story and one story only for anything *rolls eyes*

So, am I the only writer who jumps to obey when yelled at, or do you troublemakers boss the others around as well?

On second thought, don't answer that.

Also, I bloody hate stories with five million lines of italics to code. What was I thinking?

Enjoy (hopefully) <3

Swordwick

"Are you all right?" Willa asked.

Hollowick dropped his hand from where he had been rubbing his forehead. "Just a slight headache. Nothing a cup of tea won't fix when we arrive." Which would be all too soon, he thought, stifling a sigh. Not that he was sorry he was coming, but he had not thought he would be coming so abysmally alone.

Willa grimaced and sat back in her seat, shifting restlessly in the stiff velvet cushions of the ambling carriage. "Honestly, Holly. I am sorry mother and father were such prigs about all this. Pence is magnificent. You're both magnificent. I am so very sorry you were forced to leave him behind."

Hollowick shrugged, hoping to convince here he was all right—even if what he felt was miserable. Just once, he wished he could be himself outside the castle walls. His headache would not go away until he had Pence with him again, and back home he knew Pence was equally miserable. Never mind the fact they had said he was not even allowed to bring his sword. Not even so much as a dagger.

Not that he had listened to them on that point, but it was the principle of the thing.

"You are feeling wretched and I know it," Willa said. "Do not try to fool me, Holly."

He stuck his tongue out. "Fine. I'm not happy about leaving Pence, my head hurts, it's just as well they told me I could not take my sword—but I would rather be here to support you while feeling miserable than being comfortable at home and leaving you all alone. Pence agreed with me, so there."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to give him a loose embrace. "You are the best little brother in the world."

"Haha" Hollowick said, rolling his eyes. "You have no basis for comparison, having only one little brother—one brother at all. You only like me because I'm smart enough to know how to avoid your throwing punches at me."

"Which likely makes you the smartest man alive—or perhaps it's that you're the only smart man alive, hmm," she mused, then smiled. "I am glad of your company, and will be happier for it all the more if…" She trailed off and flapped her hand vaguely. In the slivers of light just slipping through the curtains over the carriage windows, her ruby and diamond engagement ring glinted.

"If you're fiancé turns out to be an utter toad?" Hollowick finished.

Willa wrinkled her nose. "Yes, that. I do not know what our idiot parents were thinking—offering me up before I even met him! They could have at least granted me that, and not treated me entirely like a…chess piece, whatever one fits."

"Oh, I am certain you are treated like a pawn, but destined to be a queen, Will."

"I suppose," Willa said with a sigh. "Not much choice in the matter, is there? I guess I should be grateful for the chance to be a Queen, and stop hoping I'm about to meet a prince charming, especially as I am hardly a fair princess."

"You're the grandest princess that ever was," Hollowick said hotly. "So what if you're not starving to death and your hair does not look as though it belongs on top of a cake?"

Willa laughed, and embraced him again. "Oh, Holly. Whatever would I do without you?"

"Likely you would have played with dolls instead of making me dress up in your old clothes," he retorted, but obligingly kissed her cheek. "So, who is this bloke you're marrying?" he asked, just to make her laugh.

"You!" Willa said, swatting him as she snorted with laughter. "I would like to see you call King Galus a bloke!" She eyed him, and prodded him in the chest. "Don't you dare! Most people, when they're nervous, run and hide. You're the only person I know with a death wish, Holly. Do not call my pending husband a bloke."

"I wouldn't," Hollowick protested. "Not until he proved to be an ass, and then I would just call him an ass." He paused, then asked, "So is he an ass?"

Willa shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know much about him. Horen has always been a fairly quiet kingdom, and they send emissaries and ambassadors—I've never met their royalty properly. I know the last king died only two years ago, his son and heir—Galus—took over then, and he is about a year or so older than I. He has a second son, about…twenty seven, I believe. So you are still the baby brother, I'm afraid." She giggled when he made a face. "They're a small kingdom, it will do them a great deal of good to be tied to ours—and we earn a hefty tariff break by joining with them. Business as usual."

"I wonder what mother and father will eventually do with me," Hollowick muse. "Seeing as they can't marry me off—they don't even like it when people see me."

"You can live with me," Willa said firmly. "If I'm going to be Queen, then I may as well make use of the bloody title and declared you can stay with me and do as you please."

He smiled briefly, enjoying the thought for a moment, letting the wish warm him. Then he tucked it away with the thousand other wishes that would never come true, because of the path he had chosen and the fact that his parents hated that choice. "I think they'll just ship me off somewhere, tuck me away, once you are no longer around to pitch fits about it. It's not like I'm terribly useful at home, beyond being the Great Embarrassment."

"Psh. Not to me."

"And I do not think you're ugly. A pity we are related, we'd be a better couple than mother and father. The only thing they've ever agree on was that I'm a complete failure."

"You!" She pinched him.

He grinned and started to say more, but realized that beyond the carriage the noise level had increased. They were in the city now, and headed rapidly toward the palace. He could not believe he was travelling to see his big sister married off to a man none of them had ever met. What is he was an ass? What if he was a full on bloody bastard?

Well, then he would find a way to call Pence, unwrap the sword and daggers he had smuggled into his luggage, and show them just how embarrassing he could be when so inclined. If anyone even so much as made her uncomfortable—

"Oh, stop glaring," Willa reprimanded lightly. "No one has done anything to either of us yet, stop plotting demises."

Hollowick made a face at her."Stop reading my mind."

She smiled and tugged at a lock of his coppery hair. "That reminds me—I completely forgot to tell you that the younger brother is wick. Fenwick, I believe is his name. Don't know his specialty or familiar, though. No one has been terribly forthcoming with details." She pursed her lips at this annoyance. Then she sighed, hands fisting in the costly fabric of her emerald green gown. "Holly, what if I completely botch this?"

"You won't," Hollowick replied firmly. "Come on, Will. You punched the Duke of Aisling when you were fifteen, and now he is one of your best friends. "

"True," she mused. "Though the bastard could have come home for my damned wedding."

"He is an ambassador, now," Hollowick reminded her. "Locked in delicate negotiations."

"Pah!" She said, then smiled. "Still, I am not exactly—"

The words were drowned out by the sound of trumpets heralding their arrival, and they exchanged a look of anxiety and resignation as the carriage slowly came to a stop. Taking a deep breath, fussing with her hair, Willa gathered up her skirts as the carriage door was opened. A footman extended a hand to assister her and she took it.

"Princess Willa Constantina Amadia Grandine!"

Hollowick was pleased at the noise which sprang up—the clapping and cheering and further trumpets that welcomed the future Queen. Then it was his turn, as the herald announced more sedately, "Prince Hollowick."

He could see from the brief ripple of surprise that went through the crowd that no one here had known the Princess' brother was wick. Odd. He scanned the crowd, going immediately to King Galus. Handsome enough, he supposed. Black hair, blue eyes, well built, hopefully well bred but with royalty it could so easily go either way…

Then something else caught his eye, and he stared in pleased surprise to see a unicorn. It was silver white, with a long horn that all but flashed in the sunlight, the barest hints of gold in its mane and tail. Beautiful…and that must be the wick brother, standing alongside it with a hand upon the unicorn's neck. He looked much like Galus, with the same black hair and blue eyes, but he was far more slender, a bit taller..and looking his way.

The man smiled at him, and beckoned, and Hollowick reluctantly went forward. "You're wick! I did not know that!"

Handsome too, eh? Especially after Lord Toad Face.

Shut up.

Hollowick kept his face blank, but only just. Damn it. How could he forget that he would be able to hear any unicorn and the wick to whom he was connected? Sometimes, he wanted to beat Pence upside the head for giving him such a headache of a trait—especially since they would probably never be allowed to put the skill to its true use.

"Hollowick, right? My name is Fenwick. It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine," Hollowick said reflexively, bowing his head and shoulders slightly. "You have a beautiful kingdom, from what little I have so far seen. My sister will love rearranging it."

Fenwick laughed. "Well, she can't rearrange it worse than my mother. Other women rearrange furniture, Queens switch around bits of kingdom, eh?"

Hollowick's mouth twitched, and he looked reflexively toward Willa to make certain she had not caught his teasing. His humor vanished, however, as he saw that her smile was a bit too bright. Something had already upset her. But what? Damn it, why had he not been paying attention?

Looks like Gally is a bit miffed his bride is not more slender, the unicorn thought without sympathy. Guess we should have seen that.

It will do him some good not to get what he wants. If she's got even half a brain, she's far beyond those pixies he always plays with. The unicorn snorted. Do you suppose the rumors are true? I think I would pay a King's ransom to see her clock him.

Fenwick barely hid an amused smile. Shut up shut up shut up, you stupid horse. He coughed and smiled more openly at Hollowick. "Your sister is beautiful. My brother has obviously made an excellent choice."

"She was most excited by the proposal," Hollowick replied, deciding that the shouting match which had ensued was close enough to excitement it wasn't too much a lie to describe it thus. "We are happy to be here. Your familiar is beautiful, if I may say so."

Of course he may say so.

"Thank you," Fenwick said, beaming. "Might I ask, where is your familiar?"

Hollowick stifled a sigh, and ignored the familiar pang that came whenever he thought of Pence. As much as he hated to admit it, as angry as it made him, his parents were probably right—bringing Pence along would have caused nothing but trouble. "He is at home," he finally replied. "The journey here came right in the middle of our hunting out a savage dragon. I left Pence at home to finish the matter."

"Impressive," Fenwick replied as they followed along with the crowd inside.

You never let me fight dragons alone.

That is because you would just flirt with it and invite it back to your place.

I would never consort with a savage dragon. Look at you, implying I would sleep with anything.

If you haven't landed a savage, it's certainly not for lack of trying, I would wager. Now shut up.

Hollowick realized he was never going to make it through this journey with his sanity intact. He would get stuck with another unicorn wick. Was there any chance he would last through the wedding without giving himself away, or worse?

"What is the nature of you wick?" He asked, just to distract himself, and hopefully them from a conversation that as once more devolving into things he really did not need to know.

Fenwick grinned. "I'll show you later. If I mess around now, my brother will kill me for drawing attention away from him."

For being prettier and more talented, you mean.

Stuff it. Gal is a good king, if a bit…awkward, otherwise. He never got to be normal, you know.

Gally is a very good king the unicorn graciously acceded. He is just a flat out idiot everything else. Perhaps the bride will smooth out his rough edges. She looks a strong girl, and is if half of what we hear about her is true. The unicorn peered at Willa thoughtfully as they passed through the grand halls of the palace and out into the gardens beyond, where a lavish arrangement had been set—food, music, an open dance floor, colorful lanterns which would be lit as it grew darker.

He glanced at his sister, seeing she had cheered some, and more than a few women had flocked toward her—hopefully a few would be real friends. Feeling it best to make a clean break, she had brought only her two maids, and none of her friends or maids in waiting. It was the whole reason he had insisted upon coming, and sacrificed Pence to do so.

We saw she would be a good choice, did we not? Fenwick asked idly, and said aloud.

Saw she was a good choice? Hollowick thought. Did that mean Fenwick was a Seer? That was definitely rare, and even controversial a wick talent. "So what is your wick, my new friend? Perhaps I should say new brother."

Hollowick smiled. He was without most of his power, lacking Pence, but he still had some of it. Closing his eyes, he focused on what he wanted from the myriad trunks coming along, held his hands slightly out from his body, and snapped his fingers—then spread his hands to catch the book that fell into them. Turning it, he presented the book with a playful bow.

"Oh, brilliant," Fenwick said, accepting the book, one of Hollowick's spell books—one that would not get him into trouble. "You're a flash. Bloody marvelous, that."

Shrugging, trying not to show that he was stupidly pleased to have impressed anyone with his talents, he let Fenwick enjoy the book and let his own gaze wander over the crowd. It seemed the normal gathering of lords and ladies, some more minor figures entitled for whatever reason to attend the betrothal ball, servants, guards…

He looked in surprise at the small group of soldiers at the farthest end of the garden, something stirring in his chest—hope, he realized. Surely it could not be… "What are those?" he asked, pointing. "Those men with third grade familiars and…swords, surely that is what I am seeing. Are they…?"

"Swordwicks?" Fenwick finished for him, voice dismissive, and Hollowick felt his hope wither and die. "Yes, they are. Grade three all of them, I do not recall their familiars. They could be decent wicks, I do not know why they insist upon the swords." He shrugged. "But, they are a fair hand when the savage dragons come around, I suppose. Brother says to let them be, in any case. Come, we had better get to the wine before all these drunken louts take it."

No longer in the mood for wine, or anything else, Hollowick followed obediently along, looking briefly one last time at the swordwicks, feeling the absence of his own sword at his hip, and knowing all too well the looks on their faces—of wanting to belong, but never belonging, and damned if anyone would ever count them the equal of other wicks.

Magic was divided into roughly five grades of power, one being the lowest, five the highest. The familiar a wick called forth upon attaining his power determined his ultimate grade. A proper wick, especially those high in power, needed nothing but his magic. A proper wick was powerful enough to have others for such bothersome things as wielding a sword.

Though swordwicks had once been common enough, well over a century ago now, most wicks chalked it up to desperate times that had suffered a dearth of proper wicks. To be a wick who also held a sword was the very definition of failure as a wick. It was tolerated amongst the lower levels, as they often did not make enough with their wick skills and needed to supplement their income.

To be a grade five swordwick, and one with a black unicorn…resulted in one being a Great Embarrassment to his parents, and forbidden to ever display his hideous leanings beyond the privacy of the palace walls.

He had not realized, until he saw the other swordwicks, that he had held some small hope the petty, old-fashioned view had been limited to his home. The superstition against Pence, he could accept—even back home, people had been taken aback at first to see their royal prince had a black unicorn for a familiar.

"Oh, bother," Fenwick said, breaking into his thoughts. "It looks as though Gal is summoning us. Come on, we can get the formalities over with and then slink off to have more fun."

I sincerely doubt his type of fun is your type of fun. He does not look like the hop into bed for a lark sort.

I am not going to seduce my brother in law!

Right. And I only ever answer to the call of virginal maidens.

Oh, I'm certain you would not mind that at all—

He was, Hollowick decided, going to have to kill them or himself, if the rest of his stay was going to be an exercise in enduring their perverted and wholly inappropriate conversations.

Honestly, it just went to show how horribly inaccurate all the old wick lore tended to be, in saying that the nature of the familiar spoke of the nature of the wick. The oldest lore tied to unicorns was that they indicated a purity of heart and spirit, that no one lacking in such purity would ever be able to claim a unicorn as familiar. Those who possessed unicorns, it said, practiced the purest forms of magic, those requiring the most clarity of mind and heart and soul.

Of course, that almost made sense, in regards to Fenwick. If Hollowick was right, and Fenwick was a Seer…then he would have to possess some sort of clarity—purity—of mind at least, to make sense of what he Saw. It was, as Hollowick understood it, a highly imprecise art. Hence the controversy. Even the fact Seers were grade five did not spare them occasionally being accused of charlatanism. He bet Fenwick's being a prince helped with that, however.

He could not help a stab of envy, thinking that. Being a prince and grade five had never helped anyone see past the sword at his hip.

As he reached his sister, he shoved all unhappy thoughts aside, not wanting her to sense them—she had more than enough to manage, without having to fret over him as well. He took her hands and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Then he turned and bowed to Galus, murmuring the appropriate greetings by rote.

"So, we are inviting another wick into the family," Galus said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Splendid, splendid. I do not see your familiar, however…"

"Pence is at home, sire," Hollowick replied. "I was called from duty to attend my sister's wedding, and left Pence to finish the matter."

"Splendid, splendid," Galus replied. "What manner of beast is this pence?"

Only a king would be so rude… "A unicorn, sire."

Fenwick looked at him in pleased surprise. "Marvelous, though at that, it might be trouble. Old Diamond here will be most put out if your Pence is prettier."

Shut up, human.

Shut up, horse.

Never. Oh, would you look at that. Lord Toad Face is eying the bride's assets. Not that I blame the man, but he could show a bit more class and subtlety about it.

Since when has Lord Toad Face ever shown either? The damn does not deserve his title.

Attempting to remain casual while looking around, Hollowick quickly found the man dubbed Lord Toad Face—and well named he was, as much as he hated to agree with the idiots upon whom he was eavesdropping.

When the man happened to glance his way, he glared hard, until Lord Toad Face dropped his gaze and eventually shuffled away.

"Holly," his sister sang his name, obviously knowing he was not really paying attention to the conversation. "What do you think so far?"

He forced himself to attend her. "Sorry. What? Oh, I like it fine for having been half an hour."

"Good," she said. "Galus was asking as to your magic."

"He's a flash," Fenwick said before Hollowick could reply. He smiled at Hollowick. "Probably quite unstoppable when your Pence is about, eh?"

Willa giggled. "He once flashed an entire carriage. We were travelling home from the hunting lodge, and the road was so bad that not one but two carriage wheels snapped. I asked Holly if he might bring us new wheels, but he was so impatient and cranky that he flashed a completely new carriage.

Hollowick ignored the way his cheeks went hot. "You're leaving out the part where we were on an unsafe road, it was dark, and raining, Will. Why do you always leave out the key bits of the story?"

"Because it's far more amusing to leave those bits out," she said with mock haughtiness. "I am the future Queen here, we shall tell the story our way."

"The good future Queen is about to find herself flashed into the pong," Hollowick retorted, though the threat was an empty one—the flashing of living beings never turned out well for anyone, and was quite illegal.

The proper name for his particular talent was a summoner—a wick with the ability to summon at will any object or objects he had seen but once and could clearly recall. The ability was damned useful in the heat of battle, especially against the savage dragons he and Pence spent so much time slaying or at least driving out of their territory into wild country. The slang for his talent was flash, however—because he could 'have it in a flash of lightning'.

"Well, I certainly know who to drag along with me the next time I must go travel along the Dalis road," Galus said. He motioned for a servant to bring them wine, and raised his glass in toast. "To my bride, and her brother, and new family."

Hollowick raised his glass, and obediently drank.

Everything seems to be going well. I think the black clouds we saw might not be as ominous as you feared. Perhaps just bad weather, after all.

The wedding is not past, yet. Black is never a good color when it comes to wicks.

The metalwicks seem to get along with the color well enough.

Fenwick gave a soft snort into his wine, and Hollowick saw his eyes flick briefly toward the small group of swordwicks. Each of the half dozen men had his familiar near to hand—and all of them were black. Hollowick could see a wolf, a falcon…and could not quite make out the rest. Exactly my point. I just wish I had gotten a better idea what the black clouds meant, but whatever they pertain to is deuced difficult to see. Perhaps I do not work you hard enough.

That would be because you were working that little tart hard enough for three.

Hollowick murmured excuses of hunger and moved way to the buffet table before anyone could stop him, ignoring the concerned look he could feel his sister give him. He finished his wine and fetched another glass from the table, but it felt as though he were attempting to swallow some thick, awful syrup, so tight was this throat.

Appetite vanished in the face of Fenwick's unwitting cruelty, he stood briefly at a loss—then said to hell with it and strode across the clearing to where the swordwicks were clustered. Off to the side, all on their own—wicks seldom wanted anything to do with them, soldiers did not like them, and everyone else stayed away simply because that seemed the thing to do.

"Greetings," he said quietly.

They eyed him warily, but begrudgingly greeted with a brief, "Good evening, Highness."

"A wolf, a falcon, and now I can see a fox, a panther, and owl. Impressive assortment, and it seems to indicate a wide range of abilities. You must make a diverse and well-balanced team."

This time they looked at him in surprised pleasure, even if the distrust did not fade. "Yes, Highness," one said cautiously.

"Prince Fenwick mentioned you fight savage dragons? That must be a damned sight easier with six of you along."

"Yes, Highness," another offered eagerly, and they all stirred, obviously excited for any chance to discuss what they did. "We took down a blue horn three days ago, a full grown bitch she was, no mistake. Four of us kept her busy, allowing the arrowicks here to take the killing shots. Took us nigh on two hours, it did, not counting the five just to find the bitch."

Hollowick laughed. "Arrowick? That is not a term I know, but it seems plain enough." He looked at the two indicated, noting they possessed the bird familiars. "So you are handy with bow and arrow, I take it?"

"Yes, Highness," the two men said hesitantly, one smiling shyly.

Returning it without hesitation, Hollowick said, "That is marvelous, truly. I am a terrible shot, myself." He hesitated, reminding himself why it was stupid and foolish and reckless—but damn it, he had never seen another swordwick, never mind six of them and they at least got to work together and support each other. To hell with it. Quietly, he said, "I am much better with a sword, myself."

Almost as one their jaws dropped.

"Highness—but are you not wick?"

"Yes," Hollowick replied. "I was forbidden to bring my familiar with me, for the trouble his presence would cause. He is a unicorn, though…and bears a similarity of color with your own…" Please, please, do not let this have been a mistake.

"Truly, Highness?" asked the man who seemed to be their leader.

They laughed, and exchanged looks, when he nodded. "You are a grade five…and a swordwick?"

"Yes," Hollowick said again. "I beg you not to reveal my secret, for I was, as I said, forbidden from doing it. But I saw you here, and saw there was six of you…" He could not keep the wistfulness from his voice. "It is damned difficult fighting the savage dragons alone."

One of the soldiers shook his head. "No one will hear your secret from us, Highness. We would not break such a trust. If you can take on a savage dragon alone, we hold you in high esteem indeed. But, you had better get back to the party proper, before they wonder why you would waste time with us."

The bitterness in his voice was thick, and echoed in t he expressions of the other five, and Hollowick could only stifle a sigh and agreed. If it were only him, he would not care—but he did not want his behavior to reflect poorly on his sister, even if she would not care either. His parents wanted this marriage, and the kingdoms would benefit greatly by it—he had no right ruining all of that for his own selfishness.

Nodding to the swordwicks in farewell, he made himself pick up some food from the table before returning to his sister's side.

"You were talking to the swordwicks?" Fenwick asked lightly. "What did they have to say?"

Hollowick could not completely contain a smile. "They were talking about a savage blue horn they recently tamed. I've a friend back home who has a dragon familiar."

"Oh, a bit of a hot tempered wick, then?"

Willa snorted in amusement. "Hardly. He's the quietest, most bookish wick in the world. The only time I ever saw him lose his temper, someone had torn a page in one of his books."

"In his defense," Hollowick interjected dryly, "you had just torn the page of a book he had only just finished writing. And stop leaving crucial bits out of stories."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I told you, we are telling the stories my way, not yours."

He rolled his eyes, and called for more wine.

Pretty, pretty little wick. I bet a month's worth of sugar that Lord Toad Face will attempt to accost him before the week is out. Unless, of course, you beat him to it.

I told you, I am not going to bed my brother in law. Even I have more taste than that. Now shut up, because Gal is starting to give us Looks.

Gally is just jealous he cannot participate in the dirty conversations he knows we are having.

If we do not stop having them, you damned heifer, he is going to castrate both of us.

Not if Hollowick did it first. He was going to have no sanity left by the end of this journey, he just knew it.

The evening did not improve, as the dancing began and Fenwick vanished to dance with a wide variety of women and men, each turn and step accompanied by ribald comments between him and his damned unicorn.

Hollowick drank more wine, pointedly ignoring the looks his sister was shooting him.

Still, when she finally forced him into a dance, he got an earful. "You're drunk!" she hissed.

"Because they won't shut up," he groused. "Those two have the dirtiest minds I have ever had the misfortune to overhear and I wish I could tell them but that would lead to awkward questions and—" He broke off with a frustrated sigh.

She laughed in sympathy. "Oh, poor thing. I forgot that you would be able to overhear any other unicorn wick. Pence would be dying of amusement right now, poor proper Holly surrounded by three dirty minds."

Hollowick grimaced, but did not bother to argue the point. Pence would positively love having partners in his mission to pervert Hollowick—or drive him crazy in the attempt, at least.

"Perhaps they will relent soon," she said, obviously not believing a word of it.

"That's not the point," Hollowick said sourly. "The point is that I am eavesdropping and cannot tell them so."

She murmured reassurances, squeezing his shoulder. "If it gets too bad, we shall figure something out, Holly. I am sorry that coming with me is proving such a trial."

"It's worth it," he said gruffly. "Gods know Pence says worse stuff all the time. How are you doing?"

"Well," she said, though the brightness in her smile faded a bit, eyes straying—obviously toward her future husband. "I think he is disappointed I am no fair princess. Certainly I do not look like that."

He turned his head, and glared to see the King dancing with a delicate little blonde woman who looked nothing so much as like a teacake.

Trouble, he heard Diamond say. The princess and her brother have noticed your brother's abominable taste in women. Why is he dancing with the Duchess anyway?

He's an idiot Fenwick replied, and Hollowick could hear him sigh in his thoughts. I will go have a word with him. Honestly, if he does not see reason I am going to see a very dark future and scare him into behaving.

Hollowick rather thought that was the only intelligent thing he had though all evening, and his mood improved apace. "I am going to get more wine, and sneak off to bed, unless you have need of me."

"No," Willa said firmly. "I must learn to manage all of this alone." She sighed as she said the word, looking briefly sad—but stubborn, in a way that only Willa could be. "If I keep leaning on you, dear little brother, I shall never settle properly. Go get your wine and find your bed, and I hope you do not have too much of a headache come morning." Kissing his cheek, she bowed as the dance came to an end and waved him away in exaggerated royal fashion.

Then, shoulders set, she moved gracefully across the room and neatly made Galus dance with her.

The girl does have fire, I will give her that. Once she clocks him, I think they will get along nicely.

Indeed. You just want to see her clock my brother, you bloodthirsty cow.

Hollowick snickered, unable to help himself, because it would be rather amusing to see his sister punch someone—back home, people were smarter about raising her ire. He bumped into someone, and looked up, stumbling over apologies—and realized it was Fenwick.

Smiling, Fenwick took his hand. "Now, now, dear brother, I am afraid that around here the only suitable apology is a dance."

"If you insist," Hollowick replied, perhaps a trifle more drunk than he intended—meaning too drunk to hold his tongue as much as he would otherwise. "You have no one but yourself to blame, however, should you come to regret it."

Fenwick looked amused, but said nothing. Not that he needed to, Hollowick could hear his thoughts all too well. Methinks the brother is not quite as bland as he tries to appear.

Enough wine will give anyone bite Diamond replied dismissively. …you do want to sleep with him.

I do not Fenwick replied hotly. I will make you sleep in the stable tonight.

Psh. Fine. You dance with the drunk wick, I will amuse myself elsewhere.

Fenwick rolled his eyes, and Hollowick only just barely remember not to roll his own. Getting drunk had definitely not been the best way to handle this situation. It made him too careless.

It also, he realized suddenly, made him too aware. He had not noticed Fenwick's cologne before, something with a hint of orange to it. Nor that he just barely reached Fenwick's shoulder, which felt…oddly nice. The air had cooled with the coming of dark, and while the wine kept him warm, Fenwick was far warmer still. He could feel the heat of his hands despite their gloves, the layers of cloth between them where Fenwick's hand had settled on his hip.

He looked up, struggling for something humorous or flippant to say, but forgot the words as he caught blue eyes—this close, they had a bit of gray to them, and were far softer looking than he had remembered them being. Or maybe he simply had not been paying attention before, too distracted by his own thoughts, as well as theirs.

You are going to sleep with him Diamond said, amused and smug. Should one be having those sorts of thoughts about his new brother? Not that I can blame you, I would certainly be tempted to do that very thing—

Shut up Fenwick hissed furiously. I am not going to sleep with him. Do you honestly think me that—

Human? Diamond cut in. Yes.

Fenwick ignored him.

Hollowick flushed dark, and broke their gazes, feeling wretched and deceitful and, and—drunk, definitely drunk. "If you will forgive me, I fear I have overindulged in your wonderful wine. I believe I will go in search of my bed."

"I'll escort you," Fenwick said promptly.

All the way to the bed itself? Diamond taunted.

We are no longer speaking, heifer.

Sourpuss.

Hollowick stepped away, slowly shaking his head. "No, please. It is in extremely poor taste for me to behave so, and I'll not worsen my crimes by dragging you away. A footman will suffice. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I will hopefully see you on the morrow. Good night."

Summoning a footman, he departed before the point could be further debated.

Honestly, what was he thinking? Had he actually been a bit disappointed that Fenwick was so set against…? No, that was ridiculous. Even if it was not a bit tacky for them to sleep with each other when their siblings were on the verge of marriage—what would Fenwick do when he discovered that his pretty brother in law was a lowly swordwick?

Perhaps the problem was that he was not drunk enough. Bidding the footman bring him more wine, Hollowick walked slowly through the outer room of his suite, into the bed chamber. His trunks had been brought, but left unpacked, thankfully. He did not want to have to explain to anyone why he had a sword and three daggers amongst his belongings. Not after all the trouble to which he had gone to see they were packed.

Opening the trunk which held his contraband, he pulled out a handful of books that were all he had to guide him down the murky road of swordwick—three journals and texts written by an ancestor, the last swordwick his family had endured, and a couple of other books obtained at no small cost.

Beneath these, and some random bits of clothing, were his weapons. It was a beautiful set, the long sword and three daggers. They had been a gift from his sister and friend Toki, he of the books and dragon familiar.

The blades of all four were shining steel, etched with marks for strength, protection, and other such things—Toki's wick, imbuing objects with magic. The hilts were onyx, overlaid with bands of silver braiding. Simple, elegant, masculine—they were weapons of which any knight would be proud.

Which any wick would be ashamed to admit he had so much as touched. Sighing softly, Hollowick pulled out a velvet pouch, then returned everything else to the trunk and closed it. He stood up just as he heard the footman return with his requested wine.

After the footman had gone again, and he had taken several bracing swallows of wine, he retrieved the velvet pouch momentarily set aside and opened it. Reaching in, he pulled out a small, ornate mirror. It was of the highest quality, and framed by silver set with precious stones. Toki had handed it over, after setting the spell, completely careless of the worth of the thing—but that was Toki.

Snapping his fingers to activate it, he waited for the fog that now curled in it to clear away once more. When it did, his headache eased for the first time in days. "Pence," he said, smiling. "I miss you."

And I you, Holly Pence replied gruffly. Hunting dragons is a sigh more difficult without you.

"What!" Hollowick replied, startled. "You're not actually supposed to be hunting the damn things. It's too dangerous for you to do alone, Pence."

I don't have much choice. It started causing trouble the day after you left, nearly killed some poor farmer and his family. Completely ruined their crops and those of another family. Worse, it's just a baby. Worse still, it's a baby green spike.

Hollowick's' grip on the mirror tightened in horror—and fear for his familiar. "Pence! I'm coming home at once. I—"

Will do no such thing, dearest. I'm not going to fight the thing, I just want to herd it back to its mother, and then see if I can't drag Toki outside long enough to bind the things until you return. So do not worry about me. Being out here is a damned sight better than being stuck in that palace. I'm much more likely to get fed, for one."

"Oh, Pence!" Hollowick protested. "Do you mean no one is feeding you?" His eyes stung with anger and humiliation. "You're a grade five familiar, damn it!"

Shush Pence soothed. I did not say that to worry you, dearest. I said it to be amusing. Of course they will feed me, just not any better than a horse. But Toki keeps me fed, and I do not even have to steal his books to see it done. So do not fret about me. The only thing wrong in my life is the lack of you at my side. Who else is there to tell about the sweet, sweet mare I saw the other day and wanted to—

"Oh, not you too!" Hollowick groaned in despair. "Haven't I heard enough of this nonsense for one day?"

Too? Pence asked, curiosity piqued. What fun am I missing?

Then Hollowick felt the familiar warm, shuffling feeling of his unicorn rifling through his mind for all the things that words did not express well, snorting and nickering in amusement. Oh, ho! Are you going to bed him, then? Perhaps it would be better to ask, are you going to let him bed you?

"Shut it," Hollowick hissed. "One, this journey is about my sister and her happiness, not about me getting bedded. Two, I do not need to get tangled up in an affair, however brief, with a brother in law who shares your sense of humor. Three, he does not look favorably on swordwicks, so the rest hardly matters."

Pence sighed softly, sadly, in his mind. I sometimes wish I had come out white, at least—

"Shut it," Hollowick said roughly, fingers gripping the mirror so tightly the knuckles were white. "I dreamed about you, and only you, since boyhood. I would have you no other way, you stupid horse, even if the rest of the world looks down their noses at us. I have you, I have Will, I am content."

You should not be content Pence replied gruffly. You should be madly in love and deliriously happy. Hopefully, someone will make it so, someday.

"Bah," Hollowick retorted. "Are you certain you do not want me coming home now? Will would understand, though…"

No Pence replied firmly. Are you certain you do not want to hear a story? I encountered a basilisk the other day, he was—

"Shut it," Hollowick cut in. "No amount of wine will ever be enough to convince me that I want to hear the sordid details of your lecherous adventures."

Pence snorted. You spend too much time around Toki, dearest, if you can say all those words while drunk. Why are you drunk, anyway?"

"Because I am away from you, a reviled swordwick, tired of overhearing dirty conversations, tempted to murder a king for upsetting my sister, and my new brother is not entirely unattractive." He paused, then swore as he realized what he had said. "I didn't meant to say that. The last bit, I mean." He scowled.

Pence snickered. I will ignore that for now, dearest, but I shall also remind you that I like hearing all the sordid details.

"There will be no sordid details to tell," Hollowick retorted. "You are certain you'll be all right with the green spikes?"

Pence shook his head in a way that equaled eye rolling. "I am following it back to its lair, dearest, nothing more. I know creatures find scars attractive, but I am in no hurry to seek out the pain required to obtain one. I just want the baby out of the way for now, and to find the nest."

"Be careful," Hollowick whispered.

Pence moved his head, then cut the motion short, and Hollowick felt sadder and more alone than ever—normally, Pence would have butted his chest or nuzzled his cheek. Seeing and talking to him eased the ache some, but nothing was the same as being able to feel his familiar. He'd given a piece of his soul to bring Pence forth; it was every sort of wrong to be separated. Holly, Holly, I have no intention of dying. I fully intend to be in perfect health when I listen to you tell me how precisely this Fenwick beds you.

"Shut it, cow!" Hollowick snapped, cheeks hot from more than just wine.

Laughing, Pence bid him sweet, sweet dreams, and then faded away as the spelled mirror went dormant once more.

Sighing, Hollowick returned the mirror to the velvet pouch, and tucked it beneath one of the pillows on his enormous bed. Then he stripped off his clothes, finished his wine, and crawled into bed.

*~*~*