Recipe for Magic (5 page)

Landyn took long enough to respond that Connor got nervous. “I don’t hate you, Connor,” he said quietly. Then he straightened. “And you should be sorry, you were an absolute nightmare. You still owe me a new set of robes.”

“I’ll write to my tailor and have her send a set right away,” Connor replied, dizzy with relief. If Landyn didn’t hate him, maybe this would work. He poked Landyn in the stomach. “But she might have to take measurements from a scarecrow to get the fit right.”

“Ha-ha,” Landyn said, his cheeks going bright red. “Quit while you’re ahead, Roth.”

Connor put his hands up in a placating gesture. “See you tomorrow.”

“If you’re lucky,” Landyn retorted. He turned on his heel and walked down the hall, his robes swishing with his long-legged gait. Before he was out of sight, he looked back over his shoulder at Connor, and his face registered surprise when he found Connor still watching. A small smile curved his mouth, different from his usual smirk.

That night, Connor dreamed of floating lazily down a river.

L
ANDYN
MET
Connor in the morning and handed him a muffin. “It’s blueberry,” he said.

Connor blinked at the muffin in Landyn’s outstretched hand. “That’s my favorite.”

“Is it?” Landyn asked. “I grabbed one from the basket on my way out. You missed breakfast.”

Connor yawned and scrubbed at his face. “I overslept,” he said. For the first night in over a week, he hadn’t woken in a cold sweat.

“A growing fire mage needs proper sustenance. How else will you find the energy to be so continuously annoying? Come on,” Landyn said.

“Not your best,” Connor replied, ripping off a piece of muffin and shoving it into his mouth, then savoring the flavor. He brushed the spray of crumbs off the front of his robe.

“It’s early,” Landyn said.

“Splash a little water on your face,” Connor suggested, giving Landyn a muffin-filled smile. “That should wake you up.”

“I could splash a little on yours instead.”

“Don’t be that way,” Connor grinned. All he’d needed was a good night’s sleep to put him in a better mood. He slung an arm around Landyn’s shoulders, and his thumb rested lightly against Landyn’s neck. He felt Landyn swallow. “You offered me a muffin, Landyn. We have a connection.”

Landyn rolled his eyes. “Finish it before we get to class. I don’t want you getting crumbs all over my notes.”

Over the next few weeks, Connor’s days fell into a less solitary routine. Landyn met up with him in the morning, and they walked to class, where they passed notes and occasionally drawings. Once, Connor drew Landyn as a skinny insect with a stick up his ass; when Landyn saw it, he made a choking noise and quickly crumpled the paper.

They took lunch together outside, went to their afternoon classes, then split up for Divination and met again for dinner. Connor thought he’d get sick of Landyn—he hadn’t spent this much time with Elisa in the two years they’d dated—but Landyn was interesting, and he insulted Connor constantly, which Connor found strangely charming.

After dinner, they headed to the arena room. Connor could admit to being a little jealous. He should have thought to ask Headmaster Relvin for something like this—it would have been a lot easier to find alone time with Elisa if he’d had a private room at his disposal. The thought made him look at Landyn and flush.

“Wow.” Connor whistled when he first took in the room. It was rectangular with a large fireplace and sitting area at one end. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the other half of the room surrounding a large, open area. The stone floor was inlaid with elemental patterns in red, white, green, and blue, and when Connor looked up, the ceiling was so high it bled into darkness beyond the rafters.

“You get to use this whenever you want?”

“Yes,” Landyn said, fidgeting next to him.

“Ever used it for a party?”

“Ugh,” Landyn said. “I don’t know why I even—” He seemed to catch himself and finished with, “—why I even
bother
with you.”

“This kind of privilege is wasted on someone like you, Glendower.” Connor made his way across the room and flopped down on one of the oversized leather armchairs. He glanced at the fireplace and, with a flick of his hand, had a fire roaring in seconds. “Come over here,” he said. “It’s cozy.”

Landyn flushed from the sudden heat of the fire. “We’re supposed to be working.”

“We can relax for two minutes. Our magic will still be there. Come on.” He patted the cushion.

Landyn pinched his nose. “Seas give me strength,” he muttered, but he made his way to Connor and sat down gingerly on the chair opposite, arranging his robes carefully.

Connor sank back into the cushions and let out a sigh, absently watching the firelight dance over the angles of Landyn’s face. All right, maybe he wouldn’t run off to the Gloomwood just yet.

“We can wait till tomorrow to work on our plan for the Trial,” he said. He gestured at the fire, absently spinning animals out of flame, and smiled as he made a horse gallop across the coals and then leap over the grate and dance through the air past Landyn’s face.

Landyn smirked, and the horse disappeared in a hiss of steam.

“Hey!” Connor said halfheartedly. “You shouldn’t let your jealousy ruin things.”

“Jealousy? Please. I could conjure a much better horse.”

“Prove it.”

Firelight glinted in Landyn’s eyes, the flickering orange only intensifying the blue. “Fine.”

Connor sat forward as Landyn closed his eyes. His lips moved soundlessly as his hand traced a smooth, flowing design in the air. He opened his eyes and cupped his hands together; clear water filled his palms and, as Connor watched, the water bent and twisted until a perfect horse pranced delicately in Landyn’s palm.

Where Connor’s horse had been a rough outlined shape, Landyn’s little water horse was elegant and well defined. Its long, liquid mane floated like seagrass in the waves, and when it nickered, a stream of tiny bubbles trailed upward from its nose.

“That’s beautiful,” Connor said. He wished he could touch it.

Landyn looked up at him, strangely shy. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Connor replied, tearing his gaze from Landyn’s face. “Beautiful.”

“Yours was, too,” Landyn said. “I could… help you refine it more. If you wanted.”

“Sure,” Connor said. “There had to be at least one thing you were good at.” He grinned and wasn’t disappointed by the way Landyn’s eyes narrowed in challenge.

C
ONNOR
QUICKLY
discovered, during their shared mealtimes, that Landyn needed to be supervised to make certain he ate. Sometimes Landyn was so busy reading he forgot to eat; other times, he ranted all through their meal on some topic—ogre rights or the rigid hierarchical structure of elemental mages in higher learning—and then didn’t have time to finish his meal.

No wonder Landyn was so thin. Connor took to pocketing a piece of fruit so that he could give it to him later.

The first time he did it, Landyn looked at him with wide blue eyes.

“What?” Connor asked defensively. It was evening, and they were in their arena room. He had his books and papers spread out in front of him on the table, and he busied himself tidying the piles. “If you pass out in the middle of casting, we won’t get anything done.”

Landyn looked down at the apple Connor had handed him, then back up to Connor. “You remembered that I liked apples.”

“I remember you chomping on one at lunch a couple of times,” Connor said. “It’s not a big deal. Are you going to help me with this translation for condensing flames or not?”

When Landyn sat down next to him at the table, it seemed as though he pulled his chair closer than usual. Connor didn’t mind, especially not when Landyn leaned forward to point out a translation error that Connor had made and their hands brushed together.

O
NE
NIGHT
,
nearly a week later, they stayed so late in the library that they missed the last serving in the dining hall.

“Well,” Landyn sighed as they stood in the dimly lit corridor outside the closed and bolted doors. “We should probably skip the arena tonight. We won’t have the energy to conjure.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Come on,” Connor said. He grabbed Landyn’s wrist and dragged him along with quick steps.

“The kitchens? What are we doing here?”

“Getting fed,” Connor replied and knocked smartly.

The door swung open to reveal Josephina’s plump, scowling face and her gray, frizzy halo of hair. “What?” she growled.

“Madame Josephina—” Connor started.

“Missed dinner, did you?” Josephina said in her croaky voice, sizing them up through a one-eyed squint. “And you’ve dragged another young delinquent along, I see. All right, get yourselves inside.” She pushed the door open wider and turned around.

Connor quickly followed, pulling a wide-eyed Landyn behind him. “Keep up,” Connor said, nudging him. “Josephina might not look it, but she’s spritely.”

“That’s the head cook,” Landyn whispered fiercely back. “She’s allowing you into the kitchens!”

“She likes me,” Connor said.

“She tolerates you,” Josephina corrected, wiping her hands on the stained apron that covered her ample belly. “You can take what’s left over from supper,” she said, gesturing at the long wooden tables laden with cutlery, dishes, and food. Then she wagged her finger at him. “I’ll not prepare anything for you.”

Connor threw her his best charming smile and watched a flush darken her round cheeks and plum-colored nose. “We can make something edible, though it will pale next to your skill.”

“Scamp,” Josephina said, swatting him as she passed. She reached over his head. “Here, take this pot. Now, fetch me some water from the sink to fill it up.”

“I can help there,” Landyn said, leaning over the pot and muttering a few words. Clear water rose inside, filling the pot halfway. The water gave off a crisp, clean scent, like standing at the base of a waterfall.

Josephina’s thin gray eyebrows lifted. “I’d keep you in the kitchen if I could, my lad. This looks fresh as spring water. All right, then, I’ve already turned the ovens off for the night. Connor, put yourself to use.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Connor said. He rubbed his hands together and then held them above the pot, watching small bubbles form on the bottom as the water heated. Before long the water was boiling away.

“Good,” Josephina sniffed. “There are some leftover vegetables on the counter and meat in the cooler. I’m off to bed. Make sure you lock the door when you go.”

“Thanks, Josephina,” Connor said.

“Don’t make it a habit,” Josephina said severely and ruffled Connor’s hair to soften the words. “Enjoy the meal with your young man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Connor replied without correcting her. “We’ll clean up after ourselves.”

“See that you do.” With that last admonition, she trundled out the door, shooting one last fond look over her shoulder.

Landyn turned to Connor. “I can’t believe she’s leaving us here unsupervised.”

Connor shrugged. “It’s not the first time. She trusts me.”

Landyn made a noncommittal noise and hopped up on a stool, swinging his long legs back and forth.

“You don’t look like you’re getting ready to work,” Connor said. He grabbed a handful of carrots from a sack and quickly set to work peeling and cutting them.

“I’m not,” Landyn said. “You’re the one with the secret kitchen experience. But I’ll volunteer to taste it. I’ll make that sacrifice.”

“You’re all heart, Glendower,” Connor said, flicking a piece of carrot at Landyn’s head, which Landyn ducked with ease. Landyn was quiet as he watched Connor work. It didn’t take long before Connor had added potatoes, onions, and some chunks of beef along with salt and seasoning. All the while, he kept up a steady heating spell, making sure the broth was at the perfect temperature.

“Here, taste this,” Connor said, holding out the large wooden spoon. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Landyn leaned forward and blew gently on the spoon, and Connor had to work to keep his gaze from lingering on Landyn’s softly parted lips.

Landyn took a sip, then closed his eyes as a pleased smile curved his mouth. He swallowed and opened his eyes, giving Connor an admiring look. “That’s delicious.”

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Besides, it’s nothing special. I think your water helped with the flavor. The regular water that comes out of the pipes has a metallic taste.”

“It’s water. You’re the one who knew how to prepare everything and how long to cook it. It tastes good.”

“It’s just soup,” Connor muttered.

Landyn tilted his head and held up one hand. “Wait, wait—is the great Connor Roth refusing to take credit for his achievements? Have we really come to the end of all things?”

“Shut up,” Connor said, chucking a potato peel at Landyn’s head; this time, Landyn wasn’t fast enough and caught the peel right to the forehead. He let out a squawk and retaliated with a large unpeeled potato, which Connor thought was escalating things rather quickly.

They both wound up with soup on their robes. Connor’s skin felt hot and tight, and it wasn’t even from the first-degree burns.

C
ONNOR
WAS
deep in conversation with Landyn on their way to Advanced Runes a few afternoons later when his shoulder was jostled so hard he nearly went flying. Landyn wasn’t as solid on his feet; he tumbled sideways, his books flying from his arms, and would have hit the ground had Connor’s quick reflexes not saved him. Connor yanked Landyn back so hard he bounced off Connor’s hip, and his hands went tight on Landyn’s upper arms to steady him, dragging him close.

“Thanks,” Landyn said, his eyes wide. This near, his eyes reminded Connor of sapphires.

“No problem,” Connor replied.

He heard laughter and turned around. “Hey,” he started angrily, stepping in front of Landyn to shield him as he gathered his books.

“Sorry,” Dugan said. “Didn’t see you there.” Alessio and Rafi, two boys Connor had once considered friends, stood next to Dugan, snickering into their hands.