"Is there anything you can't fix?"

"Only your broken self-preservation," said Feyla, her dark turquoise eyes still glued to her beau's black eye.

Sedgewick chuckled under his breath. "It was worth it."

Feyla pressed slightly harder on the developing bruise, smirking as Sedgewick's laugh turned into a hiss. "You promised me that you wouldn't start stuff."

"I did not assault him. I merely...corrected his ignorant statement."

Feyla huffed at that, blowing a strand of her honey-blonde hair out of her face. Sedgewick wasn't known for his tact and Lord Faren, the king consort's father, wasn't known for letting an insult slide. She leaned further over the desk she was perched on and summoned her magic. The tips of her fingers tingled with rarely-used energy. A faint pink glow encircled her hand as she twisted it into one of her old healing spells. "What did he even say?"

Sedgewick's long, pointed ear twitched in irritation at the memory. "He said that I should enjoy it while it lasts."

"Enjoy what?" Feyla asked as she dragged the spell across the fresh black eye, smiling slightly at how it receded at her touch. Still got it.

"Us."

Feyla's attention drifted from the wound to the wounded look in Sedgewick's bright amber eyes. She dismissed her magic and cupped his cheek. "You shouldn't let them get to you," Feyla said, poorly mimicking his foreign accent as she repeated his past words back to him. After all, she'd heard the whispers too. She was a gold digger, he was a cradle robber, she'd seduced him away from his pursuit of magical knowledge, he'd bespelled her into his arms, and other silly, but still stinging, statements.

"They'll all come around," Feyla added, going back to healing his eye. They would too. Sedgewick and she just needed to show them, reason with them, and eventually, everyone would see how well they worked together.

Sedgewick snorted at that. A strand of his dark red hair fell across his face and tickled his pale nose. He scowled at it. "Your optimism extends too far." Sedgewick rapped his fingers across his dark wooden desk as she reached a particularly swollen spot. "You can't beat sense into an idiot. They just beat you in return," he grumbled.

"Well, if you think it's so hopeless then maybe you shouldn't antagonize a man twice your size." Feyla pulled her hand away and admired her handiwork. Sedgewick still had some slight bruising, but the swelling and the darkest patches were gone. Not bad for an ex-battle healer.

Sedgewick turned in his chair and pressed his thumb against an indent on the underside of his desk. Bright orange veins of magic, born from centuries of being a mage, rippled through it, causing a drawer to pop open. He pulled out his spare pair of round-rimmed glasses and slid them on his face before standing from his desk and offering her a hand down.

Feyla took it and was greeted with that rare, tender smile of his. The one that made her feel like anything and everything wrong would work out all right as long as Sedgewick was tackling it.

"And being the dear you are, you patch me up in spite of my 'broken self-preservation'."

She blushed at that, her cheeks heating up enough for the color to show through her dark tawny-brown skin. How could anyone not understand why she loved him?

"Although I doubt you'd want to go have mid-meal with me while I look like—how did you say it? A beaten piece of butcher's meat."

Feyla laughed on the way back to her own smaller, less magical assistant's desk, only to smack her forehead in remembrance. "I think I'm going to need a raincheck on that."

"It's summer, Dearest, the spring rains are over. Thank the Creator," he mumbled, already buried deep in a report on some witch, sorceress, or wizard.

"Sedgewick," Feyla moaned in exasperation. "Please listen."

He dragged his eyes up from the report. "I was listening. We were discussing the weather."

She raised an eyebrow but let it go. Sedgewick could sink into his work even if the world was ending. Although he'd probably be halfway to fixing it if that was the case. "I don't think I can do mid-meal today. My old friend Delia just started at the new healing house and we're supposed to meet today."

Sedgewick's ears twinging up and his eyes widening in panic as if she'd just told him he had to make small talk with a herd of gossiping old women. "B—but we had plans, Dearest." He stood from his desk.

Guilt pricked at Feyla's chest. "We eat together almost every day, Sedgewick."

His brow furrowed as he stared down at his desk like she'd tipped over a carefully arranged scheme.

"I'll make it up to you later?"

Sedgewick's ears drooped.

The pricking in her chest sharpened to a stabbing. Her Sedgewick... He'd taken a punch to the face over an insult to their relationship and here she was ditching him. But I promised Delia I'd meet her, she thought. Feyla bit her lip. "I didn't think it would bother you so much." She moved toward his desk, her hand instinctively reaching out to comfort. Why was he so upset? Unless...he was up to something.

Feyla's eyes narrowed, her voice rising in suspicion. "Why are you so bothered by this?" Usually, when she went to see a friend, Sedgewick sopped up the extra solitude like a sponge.

Sedgewick avoided her gaze. He levitated his hat from the hook he'd placed it on. It snapped to his hand, the bright orange glow around it contrasting the faded orange of the dyed hat. All mages received one after their apprenticeship. Sedgewick placed it on his head and pulled down on the brim, blocking her attempts to read his face.

Confusing man. Hard as granite one moment and as sensitive as a young plant the next. "That's it. Tell me what's wrong."

Sedgewick's head shot up, his bright eyes sparking like he'd figured out a tricky spell. "I can go with you." He shut the report and smiled like it was already decided. "We could salvage our mid-meal plans for one thing. And I've yet to meet any of your healer friends, a logical step considering everything..."

A hot flash of panic hit Feyla, evaporating her guilt over skipping their traditional mid-meal. Sedgewick wanted to meet her healer friend. Master Sedgewick Alverdyne, Minister of Magic, council member of the Ivory Tower, one of the most acclaimed mages in the kingdom, wanted to meet her healer friend.

The gasps of horror and cried of treachery pained her ears already.

"No!" she shouted before she could stop herself.

Now it was Sedgewick's turn to narrow his eyes. "You seem..." He struggled for the word. "Well, not what I expected you to seem." The corner of Sedgewick's mouth tightened like he'd tasted something unpleasant. "Are you embarrassed of me?"

"No!" This time the shout was on purpose. "How could you think that?"

"I've never met any of your old cohorts. An opportunity presents itself and you immediately shut it down. Forgive me for be presumptuous."

Feyla dug her foot into the wooden floor. Her gazed flickered to the many bookshelves lining the walls of Sedgewick's office. So nice and neat, still in order from the last time she'd straighten them. If only her relationships could be tucked next to each other as easily. "Delia's a healer. A really traditional healer."

"And?"

Feyla huffed. "She doesn't like mages."

"So?"

"So I want her to like you!" Feyla shouted. She rubbed her temple. "And she will. I just...need to ease her into the idea."

Sedgewick moved away from his desk and placed his hands on her arms. "It's all right, Feyla. No need to treat me like I'm the little boy no one in his village will play with."

"Were you?"

"That's...beside the point. Sedgewick leaned against his desk and pointed a finger at her. "People don't like me. People don't like us together. And that's fine. People are generally stupid anyway. They don't have to like us, they just have to stay out of our way."

"But Delia will like you! And us. I just need you to wait until I'm ready. Please?" Feyla clasped her hands and gave him that look he always had trouble saying no to.

Sedgewick chuckled. "Very well, Dearest. But try not to get your hopes up. You're the only one who really likes me, after all."

Feyla smiled and turned back to her desk. Delia didn't need to like Sedgewick as much as she did. She just needed to not get up in arms about it. It'd be a good practice for that very, very distant day when she'd have to introduce Sedgewick to her mother.

She picked up an old report off her desk, but before she could do anything with it, the door to the office banged open. A light purple cloak smacked Feyla in the face as Sandrina, Sedgewick's second-in-command, stalked into the office. Feyla yanked the cloak off her head and glared at the woman who had thrown it at her. "You're supposed to wait for me to let you in."

Sandrina, as usual, ignored her. "I have a complaint."

"You have a complaint?!" Mydel, one of the youngest mages at the Magic Ministry, followed in on her heels.

The tall woman glared at the younger man like he was an intruding child. "This boy is squeamish and hesitant and a burden to my investigations."

"Says the bloodthirsty madwoman!" Mydel cut in, pushing his yellow mage's hat back into place.

"I respectfully request that we dump him back in whatever backwater village you dug him out of."

"Backriver is its name, you—"

"Enough!" Sedgewick shouted, rising from his desk, his face now matching his auburn hair. "I am trying to prepare for the Lord's Council and it is not my job to sort out your petty squabbles." He settled back into his seat and folded his hands. "The next thing both of you say better justify pushing past Miss Everbloom. She's here for a reason."

Sandrina's eyes skipped over Feyla from the beaded sandals on her feet to the hair she'd carefully brushed and oiled this morning as if measuring their worth against the mage's own sturdy boots and half-shaved head, a remnant of her former position as an acolyte under the Archmage herself. Sandrina turned away, dismissing Feyla's position with her appearance.

Feyla bit down hard on her bottom lip. Be polite, be polite, be polite, she reminded herself, biting down the frustration that had been building since Sandrina had replaced Sedgewick's last second-in-command.

"I spotted Desden Carrow by the northern docks," Sandrina stated, smirking at Mydel.

Feyla's brow furrowed. Working at the Magic Ministry meant she listened to the names of wizards, witches, and sorceresses zip back and forth all day long. But there was something about that name...

Mydel shoved in front of the woman. "No, she briefly saw someone who she thought was that guy and wanted us to start blasting at him!"

"I know what I saw!" snapped Sandrina before turning back to Sedgewick. "Mages are supposed to pursue answers. He didn't even want to do that."

Sedgewick's ear twitched, revealing his tightly-held annoyance. "The king consort complains when we leave too much wreckage in our wakes." He eyed Sandrina before turning to Mydel. "That being said, look into it. The last thing this ministry needs with council session approaching is anyone connected with that line causing trouble. Dismissed."

Sandrina snatched her cloak back from Feyla and the two mages shuffled out of the office, still arguing under their breath.

"I hope they don't get each other killed," Feyla said, closing the door tight.

"Or kill each other," Sedgewick muttered. "Sandrina has good instincts, but she does tend to blast first and Mydel questions his own to judgment too much."

Feyla exhaled slowly, trying to release her irritation. "Who were they talking about?"

Sedgewick stood from his desk and went over to one of the many shelves lining the office. "Brother of an executed wizard." He levitated down a book from the top shelf. "I don't believe he'll cause trouble but best be prepared." Sedgewick thumbed through the book before jerking his head back up, his eyes widening in realization. "That new healing house your friend is at—the one you're abandoning me for—"

"I'm not abandoning you!"

"It's near the docks, is it not?"

"Yes?" she answered. What was he getting at?

Sedgewick's pale brow furrowed. "Perhaps I should at least escort you there."

Feyla rolled her eyes and came up beside him. She took the book out of his hands and slid it back into its proper place on a lower shelf before pulling out the second volume he actually needed. "I'll be fine. You stay here. You have a council presentation to prepare, remember?"

Sedgewick slid the book from her hands. Air hissed through his teeth as his eyes lingered on her. "Are you certain you can't skip it? I'll make it worth your while."

"Want to tell me why you're so insistent?"

Sedgewick clamped his mouth shut.

"Then I'll see you after mid-meal." She pressed a kiss to his cheek and headed out the door, the palace's clock tower chiming the noon hour as she went. Feyla rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. Sedgewick's protective streak, while sweet, was a bit much.

After all, what would a dead wizard's brother want with a healing house?

***********************

Extra long chapter for today! For those of you who read Magic's Minister, what do you think of the new characters so far?