The Entanglement of Rival Wizards (Magic and Romance, #1)

by Sara Raasch

What’s the point of magic if you don’t get to use it for silly shit anyway.

“What’d you call him? Stan?” “Sten. The Nec Lab said he was a Viking. He was one of the corpses that freshmen practice talking to, but he was due to be disintegrated since he’s, well…” I wave at his condition. “Plus, apparently the only stories he tells are brutal recountings of raids on Danish villages that get a little racist. No one wants to work with him.”

“Forty-two seconds.” “You didn’t let me—” “Thank you, Orok.” He pitches his voice up several octaves. I don’t sound like that. “You’re the most amazing wizard in our graduating class, Orok. I bow to your prowess, Orok.” I sigh. “Thank you, Orok.” “You’re welcome.” “My GPA’s still higher than yours.”

“This is the last time our codependency cockblocks me. You are whatever’s the opposite of a wingman.” “A thigh-woman,” I say without missing a beat.

“Why would I be mad at you? For, like, anything. You’re the one person who could dump a bowl of spaghetti on my head, and I’d assume you had a good reason and thank you.”

I’m supposed to be cruising down the high road, wind in my hair, one of those kitschy driving scarves fluttering behind me. We’re killing with kindness now.

“He’s invisible.” I put on my best what the fuck look. “Um. No. I think I’d know if I couldn’t see my own familiar.” “But he’s—” I scoop Nick into my arms and hold him up for Elethior. “Wait, wait—are you telling me you can’t see this full-grown American red fox? Elethior. I’m not sure I can, in good conscience, work with a lab partner who’s such a moron.” I’m grinning when he looks at me. “He’s invisible,” he says, this time flat and declarative. I set Nick down. “Mad observation skills you have.” “Go fuck yourself, Walsh.” “I will, and I’ll think of you while I do it.”

“If your shit crosses the demarcation line”—I point to the space between our workstations, about half a foot from where his gym bag is vomiting a towel and sneakers onto the floor—“that will be taken as an act of aggression, and I’ll have no choice but to declare an end to our ceasefire.” I let the door slam as he flips me off.

“That’s right! Last year, didn’t you challenge our team to a funnel cake eating contest? Like, the whole team. Against you. Then—something with the powdered sugar—” “He inhaled it.” Orok’s grinning. “Coughed white clouds all over himself like an asthmatic smoke dragon.” “Nah.” I open my calendar app. “That doesn’t sound like me. When is this carnival that I have definitely never experienced in my entire collegiate career?”

I bat my eyelashes and take a sip of what turns out to be a gin and tonic. To be an ass, I slide my tongue on the rim of the glass. Elethior’s eyes glue to my mouth. He looks dumbfounded. Struck silent and frozen. And maybe a little … hungry.

My hackles go up. They were already up. They go up higher. I’m wearing an Elizabethan neck ruff of hackles.

“Tomorrow’s the day: we’re officially going to have your therapist help us work through our codependency issues.” There’s no heat in it. We’ve made promises and threats like that before. “She’d love that,” he mumbles. “She calls you my security blanket.” My throat pinches, but I force out, “A blanket? Hardly. A high-end cashmere sweater at least.”

“They’re for Nick.” He might as well have yodeled for how much it derails me. “What? What’s for Nick?” Elethior motions at the bag. “The food.” “Is for Nick.” “Yes.” “My fox familiar. Nick.” “Despite the absurdity of naming your familiar something so mundane, yes. That Nick. How many other Nicks do you and I have in common?” “We don’t even have that Nick in common because he’s my familiar. Why are you buying my familiar food?”

We hop-skip-jumped right over professional and into camaraderie, and no part of me is okay with that. He was only supposed to be another greedy, power-hungry Tourael. He wasn’t supposed to buy treats for my fox.

“You don’t have to, um, come in. This is enough.” I step back onto the sidewalk. “No. Get out of the car.” “Sebastian—” “Get out of the car, and don’t make me say it again. If I do have to say it again, I’ll call you a dumbass, and decorum frowns on calling anyone a dumbass in a family emergency.”

“Your friend told me you’d be here.” “Who?” His looks toward the VIP area. Realization hits me in a drawn-out groan. Orok, who I sent to get my stuff from the lab because I was a big coward. Orok, who must’ve seen Elethior there, and they talked about me. Orok, who used to be my closest friend, but is now dead to me, RIP to our relationship. We had a good run.

Kissing Elethior Tourael should be as catastrophic as the worst thing I’ve done. And it is. But it’s not a bad catastrophe, and I never knew, never fucking knew that calamities could be wondrous, too.

“This—this could be messy.” “Yes.” I glare at him. “Really? This is how we come to nonconfrontational understanding in our lab partnership? Our first check-in with Davyeras and our advisors is this week. What are we gonna tell them? ‘Hey, turns out the secret to rectifying interdepartmental differences is horniness.’”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to mock him. To ask, How long have you wanted me, Tourael? But it crumbles in my mouth. The teasing, the humor. How long has he wanted me? Has our every argument been foreplay for him? Has our every argument been foreplay for me?

“You sent me to get your shit out of the lab,” Orok says. Something thuds; he curses. A few more rocks quiet. “He asked where you were. He seemed honestly upset about you running off. Sorry, about you turning invisible, then running off. Smooth move there, Casanova.” “I will lodge a shrieking rock up your ass.”

“So he isn’t who you texted me you were taking home? And that wasn’t him creeping out of our apartment last night as I was getting in?” My neck heats. That heat climbs, hits my cheeks, my ears. “The outcome of your meddling cannot be used to counteract the treachery of the meddling itself.” “Thank you, Orok,” he badly mimics my voice. “I got laid because of you, Orok. You’re the best wingman ever, Orok.”

“Baby boy, you keep standing there, I’m going to pull you onto my lap.” It was a huge mistake to hook up. Just, like, an enormous mistake. But we’re in it now. We’re barely treading water in the aftermath of our stupidity typhoon.

“Indeed. This is the progress the committee has been hoping for. And what would you say has been the most beneficial tool towards your reconciliation?” “I—” Do not say sex, do not say sex. “We—” Thio glances at me, and my thoughts must be clear on my face, because his eyes bug out. “We—” he starts, then his mouth hangs open, and I swear I can see the same words rolling through his head: Do not say sex. Yeah, not so easy to answer that question, is it?

This isn’t just messy. It’s a full-on environmental disaster. Geiger counters will pick up radiation here a century from now.

There’s no repercussion from Thio yelling at Myrdin, not that I can tell. I asked Thio once, and he shook his head and cooed at Nick how his daddy is cute when he worries. I’m not worried. Or cute. Fuck him.

“Sebastian,” he growls, and he sounds pissed, but honestly, I am, too. What is this? “Why can’t I get enough of you? Why the fuck can’t I stop wanting you?” I don’t know. I don’t know.

“Wait, I asked you out. Shouldn’t I plan it?” Confidence sparkles in his eyes. “Fuck no. I know exactly what I want to do with you. To you. Let me?” I should fight him more. Just, like, set a precedent for not being a huge pushover when he goes all—him. But I nod, pretty sure there are heart emojis circling my eyes. “Okay.”

CAMPUS-WIDE SECURITY ALERT: The missing infant basilisk from the Nomadic Order of the Enchanted Beast Pet Adoption Event has been safely recovered and all affected parties have been de-stoned. After her daring exploits, during which we are told she assisted in the recovery of a stolen wallet and prevented a fire on the second floor of the Herbology building, the infant basilisk is no longer available for adoption, and will instead be trained to become a guide basilisk for the visually impaired. Have a happy spring break!

I free myself from Orok’s clutches. “If you’re done discussing my dowry, we’re off.” “Two grand,” Orok says too quickly. “I’d also settle for a new gaming system. Dealer’s choice.” Thio pretends to consider. Or, at least, that’d better be fake consideration. “Done.” “Two grand?” I squawk. “Fuck you both, my virtue is worth more than that.” Orok laughs in a way that’s just the word wah shouted really loud. “Virtue. Right.”

“I need to get this out of my system before you drive us anywhere,” I whisper against his skin. He shivers, hands going down to grab my ass. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve stopped believing there’s a way to get this out of my system at all. I’m pretty sure you are my system now.”

“Ah. My prejudices and virulent sex appeal are the only reasons you’re with me. The truth comes out.” He smiles. “At first. But now?” A kiss on my cheekbone, trembling. “Now,” he says again. Like there’s a lot more waiting behind that now, more he doesn’t want to say. Not yet.

“You can cook.” I take another bite. “Oh my gods. If there’d been any question about whether I put out on the first date, you can assuage your worries. I will. Done and done.”

“Say something. Say—say anything, please.” “Who?” My shoulders go rigid. “What?” “Who was at the camp?” His voice is—I can’t figure it out. Angry? No. He’s irate. Redness rises up his neck, hits his face; his eyes are murderous, his jaw tight. “Which of my piece-of-shit family members were part of that program?” he asks through his teeth. “Which of them did that to you?”

We love a 'who did this to you' moment

That’s what I’ve done since those summers. I can’t erase the trauma; I find what makes it endurable. I learn to live around it. And kissing Thio? Being with him? Is the most riotous kind of living.

His fingers on my cheek catch tears I’d forgotten about, wipe them away with sure movements. “Let me take care of you,” he implores. “Please.” No, I don’t need that; no, I’m not broken; no, I’m fine. My jaw clenches against all my self-preservation, and I nod.

“Do you want me to say it?” he whispers. “What you are to me?” I shake my head again. No more talking. I’ll ruin it, or it’ll open too wide and eat me whole.

“You said no more sadism,” I mumble. “I did.” “Then don’t make me move.” He chuckles again. “We can eat dinner in bed.” “Can we shower in bed?” “Sadly, no one’s developed a spell for that yet.” Another groan. “What is the point of magic?”

It’s been nonstop heat with him from every angle, fighting and fucking, constant infernos and explosions. It should be exhausting, or feel like a warning. Something this tumultuous can’t sustain itself, can it? Something that does nothing but burn can’t last. But I come back for that burn.

“I’m in this,” he whispers. His hand in my hair, his other arm around my waist; they both tighten. “You don’t have to say anything. What you told me tonight, about Camp Merethyl—I want you to know how seriously I take it. I know it was no small thing for you, and this, you and me, isn’t small for me either.” He gave me an out. I could stay quiet and drift off in his arms and call this night the best of my life. “I’m in this, too,” I say. Now it’s the best night of my life.

I’m pushing at my chest. Pushing, pushing against my sternum. It hurts, it’s cracking in half, why can’t I hear the bone breaking? Why isn’t my body collapsing from the pain? It isn’t pain. Yeah, what Thio said hurt. But what this is, what I’m feeling, isn’t agony from that. I’m in love with him. A breath finally goes out, a grasping, frantic noise. Orok immediately straightens. “Seb?” “I’m in love with him,” I say out loud, testing the words. “Oh my gods. I’m in love with him.”

Fine. He wants time? He gets exactly—I do some quick math—twenty-two hours and seventeen minutes. After that, he’s mine, for the rest of our miserable lives, and he’s just going to have to deal with it.

Resolve is strength. Healing is anger and it’s sorrow and it’s calm certainty. It’s peace.

I board a bus and text my coconspirators—a few of Thio’s coworkers—in Operation: Proposal and give them the all clear to set everything into motion. They respond with thumbs-ups and I grin at my screen like a fool, eyes teary. I get a few odd looks for the way I sniff and laugh randomly, but hey, we’ve all seen weirder shit on the bus.

I don’t want to look back anymore. I want to, am able to, look forward now. And the only thing ahead of me is him.