“Just to confirm, you read a spell from a book you knew nothing about?” Simon said, after setting his coffee cup on the table with a sharp click. Then his eyes narrowed and his shoulders rose in reaction to some internal pain, likely caused by his well-justified disapproval.

  Casey glanced up from his drink, then regretted it. While he was uncomfortably gaunt and needed some meat on his bones, Simon, clean and not snarling with rage, was still distractingly handsome. He wondered what the man would look like with a real smile on his face. He needed to focus on the conversation and not the elf’s high cheekbones, brilliant green eyes, and the cleft in his chin.

  “I didn’t know it was a spell. I didn’t know magic existed.”

  Simon’s presence in his kitchen was proof to the contrary — the magic had been very real, and he had been the one to summon it. Casey had also not forgotten the wild feeling of Power as it rose and swirled around him. He had never experienced anything like it before, and it had lit his imagination with possibilities. He thought he could do it again. He remembered the feeling of reaching and how the energy within the land itself had responded to his call.

  He’d been blind his entire life to the possibility... and now his eyes were open.

  But it scared him.

  There had been so much potential.

  His Gift was very certain that it was dangerous.

  Simon covered his face with his hand for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose and peered over his fingers at Casey. In a slow tone, he asked, “You had no awareness of magic?”

  Casey shrugged. “I’d never seen nor heard of anything like it before.”

  Simon pointedly looked up at the electric lights and lifted one eyebrow, then turned a rather flat green gaze back at Casey. He didn’t need to say anything. That expression was comment enough.

  “Light bulbs are not magic; they're science. My world doesn't have real magic, and elves don’t exist here, either. You are an elf, yes?”

  “Humans of my world use that term or something similar. I should also note that I don’t believe we are speaking the same language, but the geas has tied you and I together. It will seem as if we speak one another's tongue, except when a word simply has no conceptual equivalent.”

  “Is the word ‘elf’ rude? Is there something better to call you?” He asked. Simon’s guess about a universal translation spell made a lot of sense.

  “I use it myself, but the true name for my people is dai’sheea.” Simon’s natural resting expression seemed to be a frown, but the sadness in his eyes appeared more pronounced for a brief moment. “It’s one of the few words I know in my language.”

  “You never learned elven?” Casey asked, curious.

  Simon shook his head, causing his long, still-damp hair to swish over his shoulders in a distracting fashion. Casey firmly told himself that it was not okay to fantasize about running his hands through those platinum locks, no matter how attractive the man was.

  “What I knew as a child has long been forgotten. I was raised by humans. Lord Yienry Halvers, a human nobleman, was ordered to steal me from my kin and execute my entire clan, as the King’s Seers saw me in a prophecy. The man who had my loyalty, they said, would also possess the greatest magical power in seven generations.”

  The elf leaned on the table and drained his coffee, then studied the inside of the now-empty mug. “Elves aren’t common. The Temple considers us among the Soulless Ones, and we’ve been eliminated in most of the realm. Yienry gave one of the last elven clans unofficial asylum on his land in exchange for their help against bandits from the mountains that are a regular plague upon his smallholders. My mother trusted him and, by all accounts I’ve heard, considered him a close friend.

  “Saints’ Eve is an autumn holiday in my world, and Yienry asked the elves to visit the Keep for the festivities. I was seated beside my mother, eating a cherry tart, when Yienry walked up, put a hand on her shoulder, and, while I watched on with the expectation that he would hug her, he slit her throat.”

  Casey made a quiet noise of horror, just a slight gasp that he managed to bite back before it became more dramatic. Simon’s words were calm. He might have been discussing the weather. He didn’t think the man would appreciate excessive shows of sympathy from a stranger

  Simon turned the mug around in his hands. “I was so young that they did not expect me to remember. I have forgotten much — my elven name, my language, my mother’s face — but I will never forget that.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Simon glanced up at him, then set his mug down before concluding the story. "While Yienry’s men slaughtered all of my other relatives, I used my mother’s sword to defend her. She told me to be good for Yienry, even as she bled out at my feet.

  “Yienry disarmed me, but they say I kicked and punched everyone who came near for two weeks. All I remember is terror and rage and that Lady Ellia beat me near to death for the defiance.”

  “That’s messed up. I’m sorry. I can’t believe he killed your mother."

  Simon glanced over at him. “Yienry had his family and his people to think about. One does not defy an order from the king without devastating consequences. It was execute mine, or see his own family dead.”

  “So he raised you — are you a mage?”

  “I grew up in his household. For the most part, he treated me as if I were a lesser son. He and the King arranged for tutors from across the land to instruct me in scholarly matters, magical theory, the manners of nobility, and the arts of war. I have a particular love for horses, a passion we shared, and Yienry and I spent many hours riding together."

  Simon picked the mug up and inspected the bottom, where the manufacturer’s mark was printed. "Magic manifests by puberty, or never, though those with the greatest power often show signs from infancy. I was tested at thirteen and again at fifteen for surety. I haven’t the slightest trace of a Gift. My mother died for nothing."

  "What happened to you after that?"

  "Yienry promised he would sponsor an apprenticeship for me at the College of the King’s Learned Men, where I hoped I could become a scholar of the sciences, but Lady Ellia, his wife, pressured him to stop funding my education. Her family is powerful, and she loathed me from the time I was small. I’ve never fully understood why. It was not that I was an elf; she had a beloved handmaiden of my people who served her when I was small.

  "The lack of schooling meant I could not pass the entrance exams when the time came.

  “Then, it was agreed that I would marry the divorced daughter of a wealthy merchant, raise her children as if they were mine, and manage their horse farms. However, Anika deserved better than what I could offer."

  "Why would you say that?"

  Simon’s eyes flashed with anger, and he set the mug down with a quiet, firm tap. Casey wasn’t sure what he’d said to provoke that hint of buried temper until the man said, "In the course of the marriage negotiations and courtship, she became very openly fond of me, and excited for our life together. I shattered her dreams and broke her heart, but it was better to do so before the wedding than after."

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  "Oh... oh." One of the things his Gift gave him was incredibly good gaydar. Prompted by that comment, he focused for the first time on the man's orientation and knew. There was little doubt, now that he’d looked, that the man was gay, though like Casey himself, he probably passed quite easily as straight.

  And he’s gorgeous, a traitorous, shameful voice whispered in Casey’s head. The man was exactly his type — as Avery liked to tease, Casey had a thing for short, slim blond men with pretty faces. This was not the time, however, and hitting on Simon would be entirely and wholly inappropriate.

  Simon averted his eyes. It was the first time the man appeared uncomfortable. “Yienry guessed at my reasoning. He disapproved, but to his credit, he made excuses for me.“

  “Did you leave a boyfriend behind, then?” Casey asked gently, trying to make small talk. Surely, as attractive as Simon was, he would not lack suitors of any gender. Queer people had always existed and always would. Even in the most repressive of regimes, they had ways of finding one another.

  The look that Simon gave him was now full of fear and anger in equal measure. Simon’s eyebrows pinched together in a pained expression before he said, “This is a dangerous line of questioning that I am compelled to answer."

  "I am sorry," Casey said, abruptly remembering Simon had to answer him, even if he did not wish to. Apologetically, he added, “Your secret is safe with me."

  Simon still scowled. "I’ve never met a man so attractive that a few moments’ carnal pleasure was worth dying for, in various torturous ways depending on the exact acts one is convicted of. That is the penalty for what the Temple calls ‘perversions against God’s Will.’”

  “We’re not perverts, Simon.” It was Casey’s turn to frown, though not at Simon. "I can't say that everyone in this world approves, and there's certainly bigotry and discrimination. Some people might agree with your Temple’s beliefs. However, we are legally equal, and my right to love the partner of my choice is protected. I could marry another man if I wanted."

  Simon's eyes narrowed. His tone, however, was bemused. "If two men marry, who brings a dowry?"

  "Our friends pass a hat around, and everyone throws a few dollars in. Plus, my grandmother would love to give me all her fancy china, afghans, and lace doilies for a hope chest.”

  So Simon did have a sense of humor. One corner of his mouth twisted upward, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled ever so slightly. "Who manages the household?"

  "Oh, we both do. Gay men, you know. The house has to look like Martha Stewart is our fairy godmother." He gestured around his tidy but rather utilitarian apartment. Avery said Casey’s decorating style was best described as ‘modern motel.’

  "And, a family?" Simon asked.

  "Fur kids. Occasionally, we adopt human kids, but pets are required."

  The brief moment of levity ended when Simon looked at Casey sideways and then stared off into space. He swallowed hard, his prominent Adam’s apple jerking twice.

  "Simon, it's okay. I am good at keeping secrets.”

  "You could hurt me," Simon said, and now he would not meet Casey’s eyes. "I am forced not just to do what you wish, but... agree with it, and perhaps enjoy it in the moment. Later, when clarity returns, I might have regrets."

  "What?" The idea made his stomach churn. "I've never pressured anyone into sex, ever. If they didn't enthusiastically consent, it wasn't happening."

  He had no intention of acting on his attraction toward Simon, but now he questioned the ethics of having the attraction. The man was completely off-limits. “If anyone tries to force you into anything before we get you home, I will stop it. Promise."

  “Thank you,” Simon said simply. After a moment, he added, “At the same time as I ended the betrothal with Anika, Yienry was growing ever more frustrated with his sons. Rafiel, his eldest, is a wastrel who demands an allowance of funds in excess of all reason while returning nothing to the household; he wishes to spend his life fornicating, hunting game in foreign lands, and collecting fine horses. Of Yienry’s younger three, the second-eldest drinks himself into a stupor daily. The third and fourth sons, twins, hate Yienry, for reasons that have more to do with their mother’s influence than reality, and they take any opportunity to find fault with their father.

  “Therefore, in desperation, Yienry formally employed me as his envoy. It was a similar role to that which a lord’s firstborn son might fulfill, but had he given one of his heirs the same duties as I, the outcome would have been unsatisfactory.

  “My responsibilities took me to all corners of the kingdom and beyond, and my future seemed settled. I am an elf, but I was very well known to be Yienry’s elf, which gave me some social standing. Yienry could justify paying me a salary, and those funds allowed me to pursue a few private, scholarly interests. It wasn’t a bad life. Unfortunately, I ran afoul of a young noblewoman who spitefully claimed I was the father of her unborn child after I declined to bed her, likely to allow the true sire of the babe time to escape. I was condemned to be Hunted and killed like an animal by the same powerful nobles who’d once seemed to respect my skills and knowledge, and perhaps even count me among their friends.”

  The elf crossed his arms over his chest and said no more. Casey didn’t push. The geas would force him to answer questions even if he didn’t want to.

  “Would you like another cup of coffee?" That was a safer question. Casey had been mildly surprised to learn Simon was familiar with the drink. He’d said it was an expensive import from faraway lands, but not unknown.

  “Please. I haven’t slept in two days, save a few snatches that I managed on Elynal’s back last night.”

  “Well, we can fix that,” Casey rose and padded into the kitchen with their mugs in hand. “You’re welcome to get some sleep.”

  "I am still a little unsettled," the elf said with a pained look. "I fear a new threat will come within the next few moments. It's been a rather unpleasantly eventful few days, and rest will not come easily, no matter how exhausted I am."

  Before Casey could respond, his phone, lying on the kitchen counter, rang as he was refilling Simon’s mug. The caller ID said, ‘Other Mother.’ He grabbed it hastily and answered it with a near-panicky swipe. “Annette!”

  Simon stared at him, clearly confused by his action. He held a finger up, silently asking Simon to wait for explanations.

  It wasn’t Annette who spoke. Slowly, sounding very tired, Avery said, “Casey.”

  “... Avery! Oh, man!” His knees buckled. He slid down to sit with his back against the kitchen cabinets, butt on the cold linoleum floor. Hearing Avery’s voice was the last thing he’d been expecting, and he just wanted to cry helplessly in utter relief. “Avery! Avery!”

  “Hey, don’t wear my name out.” Avery’s words were slurred. “I’m in the hospital.”

  “Yeah, man, I know. I know. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got run through with a sword.”

  He snorted. “You remember what happened?”

  “Think so ...” Avery trailed off, silent.

  “Avery? Avery?”

  There was a rustling sound, and then Annette said, “He fell back asleep. He’s full of pain meds, Casey, but he’s doing really well.”

  Tears ran hotly down Casey’s face. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

  "Will you be coming back today?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll head right back down.” There was nothing that would have kept him away.

  “Bring his cell phone, will you? He thinks it’s in the pickup on the seat. And he wants you to check on his cats.”

  He ended the call with her a moment later, then realized Simon was staring at him over the edge of the counter. He held the phone up to show Simon the glowing screen. “This is a communication device, allowing me to talk to anyone else who owns one, as long as they’re in range of a tower ... it’s not magic, I promise.”

  Both of Simon’s eyebrows had gone way up. “What’s it called?”

  “A cell phone. I’ll show you when I get a chance. I get the feeling you’d appreciate a lot of what it can do.”

  “Likely.” The faintest hint of a smile accompanied Simon’s response.

  Outside, a car pulled into the parking lot, and the unfamiliar noise made Simon stare at the window. Casey wouldn’t have blamed Shana in the slightest if she’d called in, but she was reliable to a fault. She always arrived precisely an hour before the shop opened to prepare for the day, so it had to be eight AM.

  He glanced at Simon. “We need to introduce you to Shana, but there is literally nothing like an elf in this world.” He could have given Simon a beanie or bandana to cover his prominent ears, but if it were ever knocked off, there would be questions. Simply letting people come to their own mundane conclusions felt like the best solution, for now.

  “Shana?” Simon asked.

  “My store manager and one of our best friends. I’d hate for her to hear noise from my apartment when nobody should be in it, but full explanations can wait.” He contemplated a plausible explanation for Simon’s appearance. “In my world, there are people who modify their bodies surgically for artistic reasons.”

  Simon didn’t exactly look surprised. “There’s a jester at the court who’s pierced his nose with a ring. He snorts and squeals, runs around on all fours, and pretends to be a hog. Something like that?”

  “Eh, we’ll presume you have more dignity. If anyone asks, including Shana for now, just say you had your ears surgically done and you like the results. If they ask for contact information for the surgeon, which is possible, given some of our friends, he’s retired. If they ask about your eyes, glare, then say they’re natural. Otherwise, the safest thing will be to deflect questions and offer as little information as possible.”

  Simon nodded. “And, if I am asked how we know each other?”

  “We met at a bar when I went to California to buy a truckload of toy trains from a collector. Avery and I were there last month. It wouldn’t be the first time I brought a handsome guy home; nobody would even question that. C’mon, let’s go meet Shana.”