Feyla slid open the door leading to the Magic Ministry's small kitchen and stepped inside. The summer sunshine vanished behind the closing door, much like the camaraderie she had shared earlier with Master Alverdyne—because obviously today wasn't a "Sedgewick" day. She inhaled shakily as his harsh words reverberated through her head.

The only concern that you, Miss Everbloom, should have about me is the state of my coffee cup...

Feyla scraped her nail against the infamous mug. Stubborn, rude man. I was only trying to help, she thought, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

"I hope you didn't catch the tail end of his bad mood," Tyrinn Brightworth said, his voice pulling her out of her inner rant. "I might have been the one who put him in it."

Feyla exhaled a shaky breath before plastering a smile on her face. "It's not your fault, Tyrinn." She shrugged. "I'm used to Sedgewick's—to Master Alverdyne's—moods by now."

"Still, I felt bad about that. You put up with too much as it is without dealing with him flying off the handle about a mistake anyone could have made."

Feyla kept smiling and nodding. She'd heard Sedgewick rant about Tyrinn often enough to know that the other mage wouldn't agree with that. Sedgewick had revolutionized the old court mage system, making the new Magic Ministry in the process. Unfortunately, in her opinion, he was now a little too devoted to making every aspect of it run smoothly. Tyrinn had gotten his job due to his father's connections as a former court mage. Sedgewick never forgot that and considered him "An incompetent blot on the paper of my ministry."

"—And I like working at the palace," Tyrinn continued, oblivious to her lack of attention. "But that man..."He shook his light blond head. "I have no idea why he has that job."

Despite her earlier anger at Sedgewick, Feyla couldn't keep her jaw from tightening at Tyrinn's criticisms of him. "He's the best," she said, claiming Sedgewick's certainty as her own. "Queen Eleyna never complains about his work."

"Well, maybe if he appreciated people more, he wouldn't have to rely on the queen's approval alone." Tyrinn leaned against the counter and thrummed his fingers on it, the dusty brown of his skin contrasting the white wood. "I'll never understand how you can stand him."

Feyla pursed her lips. Noticing her reaction, Tyrinn breathed deeply and relaxed his stance."Sorry," he said. "I know you two are close. Although, I never really got why. A woman like yourself could do a lot better than sorting papers and fetching coffee for that ungrateful, self-absorbed, ass—"

"Tyrinn!"

He smiled sheepishly before sticking his thumbs in his outer coat and leaning against the counter next to her. "Sorry again. But you still haven't answered my question."

She bit her lip and stared at the floor. "It's...complicated."

"Only because you let it be."

Feyla's head snapped up. She met his gaze with a hard one of her own. "Sedgewick supported me during a very difficult time in my life. He gave me this job at a point when I felt very...lost." The memories of her last days as a battle healer—the awful mistake she'd made and the oath she'd broken, still made her throat tightened and her spine shiver. Lost was putting it lightly. Truthfully, she'd felt like a woman drowning and adrift from all that had once been solid and certain.

"I don't know what I would have done without him." Feyla blinked, refocusing on the present. "Also, I like it here," she said, forcing her voice to brighten as she faced the counter and began rinsing out the cup. "I have some other very dear friends close by, I'm near exciting people and events, and although Sedgewick can be a bit of a pain, he's a generously-paying pain; I've never wanted for anything." Feyla set the clean mug back on the counter and filled it with coffee. She tasted it to be sure the brew was strong enough before adding the small amount of sugar Sedgewick preferred. "And I know he'd never admit it, but I think he needs someone to look out for him."

Tyrinn chuckled darkly. "Of course he pays well; it's the only way to keep people from running for the hills."

Feyla bit her lip. Tyrinn wasn't completely wrong. She'd heard plenty of horror stories about his long line of past assistants storming out or flinging an inkwell at his oversized head. At the same time, it was hard to ignore the looks of almost worshipful admiration from the other mages whenever he solved a problem they couldn't. She still remembered the gasp of surprise and pleasure when Sedgewick had offered to pay to replace the staff of a young mage named Mydel after he'd realized what poor quality it was. And that wasn't even taking into account her own feelings...

No, not everyonedisliked Sedgewick. A lot might but not everyone. Not that Tyrinn would notice things like that. He was nice enough, but Feyla had heard him talking politics with the other mages enough to notice he tended to be oblivious to things that contradicted his view of the world. Still, it would be nice if the two would learn to get along. Then I wouldn't have to listen to them rant about each other, she added. "I think you're both a little hard on each other."

Tyrinn just laughed. "Have fun in the dragon's den, Feyla," he said, making his way toward the door. "But if you're waiting around for him to take a bite out of you, I think you're going to be disappointed."

The back of Feyla's neck turned as red as a sunburn. She held her head up primly. "Sedgewick's not a dragon and I don't know what you're implying."

Tyrinn chuckled again and left her with Sedgewick's coffee.

The boy was kicking him again. Sedgewick braced himself for the next weak blow only to let out a grunt when the lad opted to join his younger sister by pouncing on top of him instead. It made a rather undignified sight. The Minister of Magic sprawled out on the floor, his glasses falling off his face and his beloved mage's hat kicked aside while the crown prince and his younger sister "pinned" him to the ground.

"We dot tu!" said Princess Glemdring, grinning wildly. "We dot tu!"

Prince Faren was more focused. "Now will you make it again?"

Sedgewick chuckled. "Well..."

"Pwease Uncle Sedgick!" whimpered Glemdring, giving him the same look that she used when entreating for an extra sweet.

"You'll have to get off me first, little ones," he said, ruffling their hair and giving their nanny another half-hour's work in the process. "I actually have something even better for you."

"Not better than a magic dragon," Faren insisted while Glemdring nodded her head in agreement.

After both of his assailants tumbled off him and Sedgewick righted himself enough to see, he set to work. First, the spell. He cracked his knuckles dramatically and summoned his magic to the surface. It moved with the ease of an extra limb and coalesced into a glowing ball. Sedgewick expanded the ball a bit so the children could better see the way the magic shifted within it. No harm in learning a little something with their fun. Their father certainly can't teach this, he thought smugly.

"The dragon's only an illusion, little prince." Sedgewick twitched the tips of his fingers and moved his hands in large, obvious gestures around the floating sphere. A bit of dramatic emphasis. Only other mages were impressed when he cast with the limited motions he usually employed. Lines formed spell runes and shifted within the magic as the spell took shape. Once everything snapped into place, he collapsed the spell flat and flung it to the ground.

A delicate, transparent illusion of crashing waves formed in the floor. The two children sat entranced as the head of a sea serpent rose a good foot from its immaterial depths. Sedgewick continued to feed the spell magic via a near-invisible line leading back to his hands.

Glemdring had just enough time to let out an excited shriek before Sedgewick snapped his hand up and dismissed the spell. Without bothering to recall the magic first, it faded into the air and left an electrifying scent behind.

Glemdring promptly began pouting and tugging on his coat. "Do it 'gain? Again?"

"I wanted to slay it," Faren added sullenly.

"Now little majesties, I can't stay here and keep the spell going all day." He reached into his coat and pulled out a rune disc with a dramatic flourish. "Which is why I made you this." Sedgewick set the disc carefully on the ground. Made of refined essantium, a material capable of holding and channeling magic, the disc currently looked a milky light gray. The essantium he'd chosen was low-grade but stable. If the little ones gave it a beating, it would still shatter like glass. Unlike the high-grade essantium he had to use for more complex spells, however, any remaining magic would simply leak away and dissipate rather than exiting the disc in an explosive burst.

Sedgewick took each of the children's hands and traced their fingers down the lines of spell runes he'd carved into the disc. He'd nearly forgotten how to carve such low-grade essantium, but the result should be worth it. "Do you feel the lines? Each one matches one in the spell I just dismissed. Now watch carefully." Sedgewick removed their hands and replaced them with his own. Magic flowed from his fingertips and into the essantium rune disc. It laced through the lines like molten metal through a mold, turning the disc the same orange as his magic. Once it was filled, Sedgewick tapped the center of the disc and triggered the spell.

An orange pulse of light shot out and cover the surface of the floor, morphing once more into the transparent illusion of an orange-colored sea. The serpent rose from its depths to terrorize again. Glemdring clapped in pleasure while her brother's serious expression broke into an excited grin. The children and the illusion stared at each other for some time until Faren, overcome with the warrior spirit of his ancestors, couldn't take it anymore.

"Charge!" he shouted as he and his sister rushed forward.

Sedgewick watched the two chase the illusion around the room and attempt to stomp it with their feet while whacking it with nearby pillows. The illusion dissipated and reformed with every hit, drawing additional magic from the disc each time. He'd originally intended for the magic in the rune disc to last for sixteen hours, but at the rate the battle with the little royals was going, his new estimate was closer to six.

Sedgewick cheered the epic sea battle on from the sidelines, tossing out additional monsters at the pleading of Princess Glemdring. Yet despite the war raging, the corner of his eye stayed glued to the clock on the wall. That Man must be the only one in right now. His little former apprentice would never have left him waiting this long.

A servant appeared at the door, followed by the royal's nanny who glared at their flushed cheeks and messy hair.

"Minister Alverdyne," the woman spoke smoothly while the nanny straightened out the little ones behind her. "Her Majesty has been detained but the King Consort will see you now."

About time, Sedgewick grumbled inwardly, running a hand through his messy hair. Feyla always tried to make him look "presentable" before he left, or at least as presentable as someone like himself could look, but the battle with the children had undone all her careful work. He settled for placing his hat over his tousled hair and tugging his coat as straight as he could manage.

The woman led him into the library where Queen Eleyna had opted to receive his most recent report on the state of the Magic Ministry. Sedgewick had mixed feelings about giving briefing reports. On one hand, they could be a pleasant visit with one of the few people he actually liked. A chance to discuss his ministry's latest happenings and examine the notes from his various research projects—not with some idiotic Lord's Council, but with a person who understood more than just the essentials and was just as fascinated and excited about his work as he was. Eleyna had been an exemplary apprentice before her coronation and Sedgewick would never regret teaching her, even if she couldn't apply her studies very much in her current field of work. Yes, his queen was truly a gifted, intelligent girl.

So why the gates had she married such an annoying, idiotic, buffoon?

Said buffoon was sprawled across a chair much too small for him and wearing an expression of disdain and irritation that matched Sedgewick's own. Eleyna would have allowed him to sit by now. Fenroy of Endingwood, her unfortunate choice of a consort, had not.

"Minister Alverdyne," he finally spoke, his tone formal and distant.

Sedgewick growled under his breath. Fenroy's grandfather had been named a lord only a few centuries before Sedgewick had come to Abreyla. Sedgewick had been closely connected to the royal family longer than That Man had been alive. Fenroy didn't have the right to act like he was truly a part of the only group Sedgewick submitted to.

"Endingwood," he replied, not giving him the courtesy of a title.

Fenroy gave a low growl before rising from his chair. His broad shoulders uncoiled, and his arms flexed as he stretched after sitting in the too-small chair. The king consort stood a good half head above most men, which meant the shorter-than-average Sedgewick only came to his shoulder.

The knowledge that the mountain of a fey could snap his neck with one hand, and considering his military history, had probably been trained how to do so, should have sealed Sedgewick's mouth more than it did. He smiled at Fenroy like he was an ignorant simpleton. "I don't suppose the useful half of the monarchy will be joining us?"

Fenroy's green eyes flashed, but he drew a deep breath before answering. "My wifewill be here any minute."

Sedgewick shuddered inwardly. Why must the man torment him with a reminder of that unfortunate connection? Was it not enough that he was subjected to canvas after canvas of the man's stupid, lopsided smile every time he entered this section of the palace? Did he not receive enough discomfort from watching the disgusting way that man and the girl he practically raised still act like they were newly-bonded, even two children later? Was his misery not complete in the mocking similarity of the man's son, if thankfully only in appearance?

Apparently not.

"Well, at least you know something," Sedgewick muttered not-so-softly.

Fenroy cracked his neck but the not-so-subtle grinding of his teeth left Sedgewick no doubt that he was cracking Sedgewick's in his mind. "I know that Eleyna cares for you—"

"Naturally."

"So, I've tried really hard to ignore your...everything. The least you could do is try to be respectful."

"I would be happy to," Sedgewick answered, lowering his voice as he spotted the door sliding open. "The moment you show me something—anything—worth respecting, you idiotic spawn of a puppet lord."

Fenroy saw red in the shade that only Sedgewick could elicit from someone. His hands slammed down on the table and he craned over Sedgewick in a barely-restrained threat."Why you little—"

"Stop."

The word sucked the air out of the room. Both men jumped and stared at the woman before them like thieves caught in the lantern light.

Fenroy was the first to recover. "Sweetheart! We were just—"

"Don't," ordered Queen Eleyna. She waved a hand and dismissed the guards that had accompanied her. They shot Sedgewick an annoyed look before retreating to the library door.

Gates, it was easy to forget how terrifying she could be. The ratty, light brown curls he remembered from her childhood had long since been tamed, tied into an updo that was harsh and severe, except for two spirals that framed her face, softening it slightly. Her olive-brown skin, the barest hint lighter than her husband's, hinted at her family's various intermarriages with the much paler Northlanders. She held herself the same way he remembered her grandmother had. Poised. Untouchable. A woman who wasn't afraid to bend the world if needed. Her most noticeable feature, however, were her eyes. The deep brown Sedgewick remembered from her grandmother, Queen Alena, had been replaced by a honeyed gold in her granddaughter—a result of the veritable treasure trove of magic coursing within the young queen. Her gaze pierced into you and had been described as otherworldly, which was accurate in a very literal sense.

"Is physically threatening my mentor truly necessary?" Eleyna asked, her voice flat and her arms crossed.

Fenroy retreated from Sedgewick. In three steps, he had circled around the table and slid his hulking arms around his wife's waist. "Is 'he started it' a good excuse?" he asked jokingly, his face red as he gave her that dim-witted smile and nuzzled her head.

The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. "Not even between Faren and Glemdring."

Sedgewick blocked out whatever asinine thing Fenroy replied, choosing instead to focus on containing his disgust. Honestly, one moment Eleyna was non-verbally ordering them to bow before her and explain themselves and the next she was leaning against That Man cooing and nuzzling in the most ridiculous fashion. He'd taught her better than to let a few sweet words overshadow the fact that he, the man who practically raised her, had been threatened with bodily harm—even if he had purposely hit a couple of well-known sore spots as hard as he could.

"Sir, please refrain from provoking my husband."

"I have no idea what you're referring to."

Eleyna raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look instead of a comment. "Let us begin."

They all took their seats at the table, and Sedgewick began his summary of the Magic Ministry's recent work. He gave the readings of the Pure Magic filled ley-lines that rested in the country, reassuring Eleyna that everything was still in order since she was required to use her pure-touched abilities to realign and strengthen them over a century ago. After that, he touched on his current research projects and happily agreed to meet with her later to discuss them in more depth. Eventually, however, he was unable to put off the part he dreaded.

"So, what you're saying is that you failed to catch the witches' guild that last time you said would be a piece of cake," said Fenroy, the smugness out-of-place on his idiotic face.

Sedgewick's ears slicked back upon hearing that dreaded word. He clutched the papers listing the dozens of tasks he'd accomplished perfectly, not even counting all the others that didn't make it into the report. Half of what he said had passed over Fenroy's head like a poorly aimed magic essence flare and yet the man still thought he had the right to criticize him, Sedgewick Alverdyne, arguably the greatest mage of this age?

Curse Tyrinn and his incompetence.

"A minor wrinkle that will soon be rectified. Personally." Sedgewick stared coolly at the king consort.

"I'm certain it will be," Eleyna said, glancing at her husband.

Fenroy just sighed as they all rose from their chairs. "Well, I sure hope—"

"Mommy!"shrieked Glemdring.

Three sets of ears slicked back, and Eleyna closed her eyes as if to remind herself of the joys of parenthood. Another shriek, this time a male one, pierced the air and she sighed.

The nanny cautiously poked her head in the room like a supplicate fearing divine retribution.

"Your Majesties, I'm terribly sorry but your children..."

"One moment, Ethyca," Fenroy answered. He turned to his wife after the woman retreated. "Do you want me to handle it?"

Eleyna shook her head. "No, they called for me." She grasped Sedgewick's hand and gave him a small smile. "Until later, Master Sedgewick."

Sedgewick returned the smile and squeezed her hand fondly. "Goodbye, my dear. And good luck with the little ones. All of them," he said, letting go of her hand while shooting an obvious glance at Fenroy.

Eleyna huffed and shook her head before taking her husband's arm and tugging him down so she could kiss him softly on the cheek. "Try not to kill him. I'll see you at mid-meal."

"The things I do for you," he said, gently brushing a loose hair away from her face. They both smiled and their eyes locked as they soaked in each other's presence until another shout shattered the moment.

Eleyna rushed off, and Sedgewick sighed with relief, making a mental note to hand out a few extra coins or candies next time he spotted the two little heirlings. He turned back toward the table and began rolling up his charts and collecting his papers.

I should probably quit while I'm ahead. He glanced at Fenroy and smirked. But where's the fun in that?

"Charming children. I am very much relieved to see they didn't inherit your intelligence."

Fenroy's hand slammed down on the chart Sedgewick was rolling.

It's almost too easy, he thought, cocking his head up towards the man.

"Listen. Very. Closely. I'm getting real tired of your constant remarks. And if it were solely up to me, you would've been out the door yesterday. So—"

Sedgewick yanked the chart out from under him and snapped it straight before continuing to roll it. "Please. I've been here since before you were a flicker in your parent's mind and I will continue to be here long after that boy of yours—" He gestured toward the door. "Is sitting on his mother's throne. I'm indispensable. You—" He jabbed the rolled-up chart into his chest. "Are not. And the only reason you're here now is that King Eldain had the misfortune of dying before he could finish kicking you out of the palace gate."

Fenroy's hand shot out and grabbed Sedgewick's tunic, lifting him off the ground. "I'm not going to bother responding to that. But I am going to tell you this: Eleyna might like you, her father might have liked you, her grandmother obviously liked you or you wouldn't be here in the first place, but the moment you show the slightest sign of not being up to that hat of yours, I will kick you out the door so fast that you won't even realize it's happening."

He dropped him to the floor. "Now get out of here before I break my promise to my wife."