Sitting in the library basement once more, Sylvia pulled out her notebook. Ever since Yrian had cautioned her about emotional casting, she worked on developing her channelling ability instead. It was far more strenuous, and often left her sweating from the effort, but it did indeed improve her control, and allowed her to broaden her horizons. Instead of creating bursts of flame with little to no control over heat, size, or behaviour, she was now able to light a candle, by touching the base of it and channelling her raw intent through the wax and up the wick. It was a fun cantrip, but Sylvia knew she had a lot to learn if she was going to make any real use of her magical affinity.

Most days, Sylvia practised channelling through the whisperwood knife, as Yrian had encouraged. Whisperwood was a considerably easier medium to work with than wax, but it was by no means rudimental to feel the material and direct the magic. Sylvia had shaved off a few pieces of blackstone by now, but more often than not, the knife would loose its edge when her focus slipped in the middle of her work. This lead to a curious discovery. Blackstone reformed. Unless she separated the pieces entirely, the smaller piece moved back into its original position over the next few minutes. It explained the prevalent smoothness of blackstone, but what caused this reformation was a complete mystery. There was no literature for Sylvia to refer to. Blackstone was not supposed to be workable in the first place.

Over the past few weeks, Sylvia had a different agenda than cutting uncuttable stones. She had created an entirely new spell, all on her own. It was simple, but exciting in its novelty. It was inspired by a story she read several years ago. Imagine a quill which never needs dipping. If water could be conjured from the tip of a quill, why not ink? Sylvia began by conjuring water and changing the colour. It turned out to be fairly easy, but merely resulted in murky water. She needed actual pigment. She studied the material, feeling it between her fingers until she could see it in her mind without a reference. Then, she conjured it. This, too, turned out to be fairly easy. With pigment and water in her arsenal, it was all about ratio. It took a fortnight, but she got the hang of it eventually. She could conjure ink from the tip of her quill.

The remaining issue now was again one of quantity. Keeping a steady supply at the tip of the quill, without it drying out or overflowing, was a lot easier thought than conjured. There were a lot of moving parts in her spell already. Since practice had done the trick for the ratio, she applied the same strategy now. She wrote every day, conjuring ink as she went. She wrote nonsensical stories, memories, sometimes just the word “ink” over and over and over. Slowly but steadily, the blotches became rarer, and she had to refocus less often.

Afi’s role in her practice was one of emotional support. He brought her more paper or a cup of water when she asked, but most of the time he was simply there. Even though she pointedly refrained from any use of her emotions in her channelling, Afi helped tremendously. He eased the strain on her soul by his mere presence. In fact, he claimed to feel it when she pushed herself. After several irritated sighs from Sylvia, he had refrained from mentioning it again.

After nearly three hours of writing, Sylvia shuddered. “It is freezing in here.”

“It is no colder than it was before”, Afi said.

“Then I must be colder than I was before.”

“Exhausted?”, Afi worried.

“Maybe a little tried”, Sylvia admitted.

“Do you want to go back and warm up at the hearth?”

Sylvia hummed in thought. “Let us take a hot bath.”

“A very good idea”, Afi agreed.

They returned upstairs and found Dana at the counter with a customer. He glanced at Sylvia and she could see the curiosity burning in his eyes. “Hard at work”, he commented.

“Always”, Sylvia nodded in passing.

Outside, ever more snow fell from the sky. Many workers were busy shovelling it aside to make way for carts and pedestrians. Hills began to pile up in less traversed alleys. Afi walked in front of Sylvia to plough a path for her. When they arrived at the bathhouse, Sylvia was shaking. Afi began shovelling woodchips and Sylvia let the tub fill. She shifted from foot to foot impatiently. Afi picked up flint and steel and she sighed in irritation. Crouching down, she ran her fingers over the woodchips and set them ablaze.

Afi turned his head, looking around worriedly. “What if someone sees you?”

“Like who? We are alone”, Sylvia argued.

Afi sighed. “Just be careful.”

“In my defence, I am freezing.”

“It is pretty useful. And certainly a lot quicker”, Afi conceded.

Sylvia leaned onto the edge of the stone pool and touched the water. It was ice cold. “I wonder…”

Closing her eyes, Sylvia splayed her fingers out under the surface. If water could change colour, why not temperature? The scar tissue on her palm prickled, and the water began to steam. Grinning over both ears, Sylvia turned around and raised her arms in victory. Water ran into her sleeve.

Afi touched the water. “How did you do that?”

“I intended for the water to be warm, and channelled the magic through my arm”, Sylvia explained.

“Right”, Afi said sceptically.

Smiling brightly, Sylvia undressed and eased into the warm water. With a sigh of relief, she leaned back and rested her head against the cool stone. She closed her eyes and Afi climbed into the pool as well.

Ever so slowly, the heat seeped from the water into the surrounding stone. The fire underneath was enough to compensate for the difference and keep the water hot. Sylvia let her arms rest loosely at her sides. Why was water so incredibly comforting? Be it cool or hot, being surrounded by water soothed the soul in a profound way. Would it not make more sense for humans to fear water? Most people could not swim. Being in a large body of water was a risk. Instead of avoiding it, people congregated in these places. It was strange.

On second thought, warm water was the most soothing, because you could bathe naked without shivering. Sylvia opened her eyes and saw Afi sitting at the opposite end with a towel over his lap. She chuckled to herself. Afi was the only one who insisted on covering up even in the bathhouse.

No. Not entirely true. Theodorus hid as well, though he hid is face rather than his groin. He was a curious one, in both senses of the word. He was peculiar and very inquisitive. It seemed to Sylvia, that Theodorus was just as bewildered by her as she was by him. Whenever they happened to be in the bath at the same time, he would watch her with that familiar intense gaze. When they were both still and at ease, resting in the water, his pull became all the more invasive. Sylvia felt naked in his focus, not just on her skin, but all the way through. He saw her, all of her, somehow.

Sylvia wondered if his interest was merely analytical. She knew by now that her own was not. She enjoyed watching him. She liked seeing him unwind after training, see how he slid down into the hot water and turned red. She enjoyed it when he groaned and stretched those long nimble limbs. Maybe it was time to find out just how serious he was about his flirtatious approaches.

To that end, Sylvia waited for the soldiers to return from their training in the evening. After sharing supper with Afi, she got up and wrapped her jacket tightly around herself. Afi rose to his feet and reached for his jacket as well. Sylvia dismissed her sworn with a wave of her hand.

“Where are you going?”, Afi wondered.

“To Theo’s room.”

“What for?”

Sylvia gave him a meaning look.

“Really? With that creep?”, Afi frowned.

Sylvia sighed. “He is not creepy.”

“He absolutely is”, Afi declared. “I will not let—”

“Remember your place, Sworn”, Sylvia warned sharply.

Afi clenched his jaw, but bowed his head in a gesture of obedience.

“Do not wait up for me”, Sylvia said, and took her leave.

She made her way to the large yellow house where Oskar and those closest to him had settled in. The ground floor was occupied by some sort of bar. The two floors above used to be ordinary living quarters. Now they acted as an extension of the Harbour Inn. Inside, Sylvia found a guard stationed at the stairs. The guard recognized her at once and did not hesitate to give her directions. Up the stairs and past a small kitchen, Sylvia found the right door. She knocked softly and entered.

Theodorus shot upright in his bed. He was ready to jump to his feet, dagger in hand. “What is going on?”

“You tell me. You are the one who invited me and then greets me with a blade”, Sylvia teased.

Relaxing, Theodorus placed the dagger on the bedside table. “Back to have another look at me?”, he jested.

“I thought it would be only fair to let you have a look at me as well. You never stop watching me either way.”

“So you do not mind my staring any more?”, Theodorus challenged.

“I never did. Not really”, Sylvia admitted.

“I thought I was being creepy.”

“No, just curious, like me”, Sylvia determined. She took a seat on the edge of his bed.

“Is that what you call peeking at men who are bathing? Or undressing them in their tent? Curious?”

“What would you call it?”

“Horny”, Theodorus grinned.

Shrugging, Sylvia quipped, “What is the difference?”

Theodorus’s lips parted a little in a sharp inhale. Eyeing Sylvia from head to toe, he frowned. “You are serious?”

“You seem surprised.”

“I am. I never would have thought…”, Theodorus began. Closing his mouth again, he hummed to himself. Sitting up properly, he leaned toward Sylvia, as though to check that he was not hallucinating.

“Surely this is not the first time you have been with a woman?”, Sylvia asked.

“In a way. I have always had to pay”, Theodorus admitted. “You are not going to take a fee, are you?”

Sylvia huffed a laugh. “Who knows?” Leaning toward him as well, she could feel his breath roll over her face. “Well? Do you want to have sex with me or not?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then find something better to do with your mouth than speaking.”

A bright grin spread over Theodorus’s face. He tangled a hand into Sylvia’s short hair and pressed a kiss to her lips. Taking her hand in his own, he brought that to his lips next. He inspected her disfigured palm and kissed it again.

“You do not mind the scars?”, Sylvia asked.

Theodorus shook his head. He licked over her palm and took two fingers into his mouth with an enthusiastic hum. Sylvia exhaled slowly. The feeling of his warm tongue caressing her skin was terribly arousing. She did not have the patience for another slow exploration, though. She wanted to pick things up where they had left off, with her fingers on his skin and his ears turning scarlet.

Pulling her hand away, she reached for her belt. She shook her jacket off and tugged her tunic over her head. Theodorus was not nearly as impatient. He sat on the bed and inspected every curve of Sylvia's body, taking mental notes about the way the dim light played over her skin.

Sylvia pulled the blanket from Theodorus and saw that he was sleeping naked. Naked except for the owl mask, which was still on his face. “Are you planning to keep that on?”

“I am”, Theodorus said flatly.

Sylvia shrugged. She stepped out of her trousers and underwear, and climbed onto the bed. “How do you even see through it?”

“I thought you did not come here to talk”, Theodorus teased.

Sylvia chuckled. “Has anyone ever told you how ill-mannered you are?”

“Often enough, but I never listen.”

“Evidently.”

Leaning over Theodorus, Sylvia kissed first his cheek and then lips. Theodorus tangled his hand into her hair again and deepened their kiss. With the other hand, he traced along her side, exploring the curve of her hip. Still feeling impatient, Sylvia reached down and wrapped her hand around his dick. She noticed the way Theodorus’s breath hitched. She moved her hand and felt him harden. Theodorus eased onto his back, just looking up at her and slowly breathing ever deeper.

“You are rather timid”, Sylvia commented.

“If you want me to be”, Theodorus responded softly.

Sylvia chuckled at that. “If I want you to?”

“Tell me what you want”, Theodorus encouraged.

“I would prefer it if you got on top and fucked me”, Sylvia stated. She could feel his dick twitch under her fingers.

“You do not like foreplay?”, Theodorus inquired.

“We have enough tension between us to last for a lifetime”, Sylvia argued.

“True enough.”

With an enthusiastic grin, Theodorus sat up, turned to the side, and let Sylvia fall onto the sheets beside him. He pushed her onto her back and crawled over her. Sylvia laughed in surprise. Theodorus slipped between her legs and ground himself against her body. Sylvia arched her neck and Theodorus took the hint. He dragged his tongue over her neck and cupped one of her breasts in his hand. When he shifted, Sylvia could feel his dick pressing against her folds, now fully erect. She shuddered in arousal and urged her hips up. Reaching between their bodies, Theodorus lined up, and then paused.

“Come on”, Sylvia urged impatiently.

Theodorus slid into her and exhaled audibly. He steadied himself on his arms on either side of her head and carefully rolled his hips. Sylvia took a hold of his butt to spur him on. To her delight, Theodorus followed her lead. He took a hold of the bed frame and pressed into her deeper. With her eager fingers digging into his buttocks, he increased his pace, pushed harder, until he felt Sylvia clench around him. She eased her hold on him and moaned aloud.

“Shh. You will wake the whole house”, Theodorus chuckled.

Taking Theodorus’s hand, Sylvia led it to her mouth.

Surprised, Theodorus stilled entirely. “Are you sure?”

“If I was not sure, I would not urge you”, Sylvia countered.

Grinning, Theodorus pressed down, shutting her up. When his dick pressed against her cervix again, her moan was muffled through his fingers. Arousal washed through Theodorus in waves. He gritted his teeth, huffing for every thrust until he found his release. Sated, he rolled off Sylvia and rested on his side. A deep sigh of satisfaction left him.

Sylvia eyed him and shook her head.

“What?”, Theodorus asked between deep breaths.

“Is that it? No wonder you have to pay. Even the stablehand fucks better than that.”

Theodorus laughed. He shook his head in disbelief. “You actually had Eri?”

“How would I know what his name is?”, Sylvia shrugged.

“I thought he was just bragging. Before now, I was pretty sure you like women.”

“And what if do?”, Sylvia countered amused.

“You do, do you not? Frida, is it?”

“What is it to you?”, Sylvia challenged.

Theodorus shrugged a little. Bracing himself on an arm, he leaned over Sylvia and smirked. “I guess it explains your attraction to a lithe figure like me. Or someone like Eri.”

“Excuse you. I find bulky men perfectly attractive, thank you very much. Just because I like women, that does not mean I do not like men”, Sylvia said tiredly. “Not that any of you seem to know what you are doing.”

“Terribly sorry”, Theodorus chuckled. “I am afraid I have not had much practice.”

“Clearly”, Sylvia teased.

Theodorus wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her. “But I reckon I can figure it out with a little guidance.”

“Guidance, hm? Do you need a manual?”, Sylvia kept teasing.

Theodorus chuckled. Trailing his hand down Sylvia’s side, he slipped it between her legs and rubbed small circles into her thigh, just high enough to cause her body to quiver. He played with the metal under his tongue and came closer. He pressed his nose against Sylvia’s cheek. “Tell me what to do and I will do it.”

“Is that so?”, Sylvia smirked. “No matter what I tell you?”

Grinning back at her, Theodorus whispered, “As long as it pleases you. Give me your orders and I will make sure to execute them.”

He watched Sylvia with eager curiosity, but he was not focused on her face. His eyes lingered on her chest. Not her breasts, either, but between them, at the centre of her being. He watched in awe how pleasure glowed in her while he worked.