Justification

 

Callie takes a long breath to steady herself in the cool morning, sucking in the chilled and slowly warming air between her teeth and blowing it out. She feels her heart fret anxiously, but does her best to stifle it as much as possible. Beside her, Gloriana seems to do the same, shifting cautiously from one foot to the other and never quite standing at ease. 

“I… well…. Thank you for accompanying me, Gloriana,” Callie says at last. She shakes her head slowly, trying to push away the small pit in her stomach.

“Of course, hal Devotia,” the paladin croaks. Her pleasant tone doesn’t creep up to her eyes, which remain hooded and suspicious, constantly scanning the crowds walking by. If anyone notices the sight of a Devotia disguised as a priestess and a paladin disguised as… well, not a paladin, they keep it to themselves. 

“I know you think this is a mistake-,”

“It is,” Gloriana huffs. 

“-but I’m grateful to not be here alone.” 

The paladin’s face softens slightly and she places a timid, gloved hand on Callie’s shoulder to squeeze it reassuringly. After a moment, she even smiles and says, “It was good of you to bring me along.” 

Callie nods, gazing at the floor for a quick second before finally turning back to face the open gates of the Mage’s college before them. She sighs, taking Gloriana’s elbow and forcing herself to make the first few steps. 

“Once again,” Callie whispers, “please don’t inform Magister Velena abou-,”

“My loyalty’s to you, hal Devotia,” Gloriana confirms. A second later, she even smirks and adds, “Not that you make that choice easy.” 

“Oh, come now,” Callie ventures a quiet grin, “I can’t be the only Devotia who’s ever bent the rules.” 

“You’re just the most smug about it,” Gloriana sighs. 

The Mage’s college is hardly what Callie expects. She’d come by it a few times in her tenure so far, but never entered it. The wide gates open into a cramp walkway with tall, stone buildings on each side of the path. The dense stone gave the immediate impression of how heavy they must’ve been, looming three or four stories above pedestrians below. High, pointed rooftops decorate each long workhouse, with a variety of windows and towers jutting out from the sides and hanging over the street. 

The scale of the college is difficult to measure. A variety of trees dot the pathway, obscuring the ability to look too far down in any direction as roads branched off under solid archways. Ivy climbs most of the buildings, working its way up through any crack or foothold it could manage. Callie had heard that nearly two thousand professional or apprentice mages lived here, many of whom traveled from across the country to train in the prestigious institution. There were other schools of magic elsewhere, but Solva’s college was well regarded as the best. 

Callie and Gloriana duck past a small group of students, all adorned in the traditional dull burnt amber robes that formed the college’s unofficial wardrobe. The mages were an unusual bunch, easy to pick out from other crowds; Callie spots significantly more piercings and tattoos than in the rest of the general population, and she wonders what their significance must be. Gazing into a few windows as they weave through the thickly crowded streets, she sees a wide variety of magical displays, ranging from the beautiful and artistic to the crude and functional. 

“Do you know where Xelemen Hall would be?” Callie asks Gloriana, a bit overwhelmed by the excitement of it all. 

Gloriana grunts and nods, pointing the opposite direction Callie was leading them. They weave back through the streets, finding themselves in a long and low archway that opens to a small courtyard with a tall oak tree. It’s quieter in the alleyway, shielded from the bustle of foot traffic, though Callie feels rather unsettled by it. Once again, she’s grateful to have brought Gloriana along; both for her meager experience at the college before she left to be a paladin instead, as well as the comfort of knowing her hand was on the pommel of a sword the whole time. 

Xelemen Hall sits on the edge of the college. It’s a square building with a courtyard in the center, opening up to a doorway on each side. If you were to replace the small gate that leads to the street with a door that matched the rest of them, it’d be easy to completely lose your sense of direction, each side looks exactly the same.

“She said she’d be in the East wing,” Callie directs, hoping Gloriana would lead her once more. It takes a moment for the paladin to get her bearings but she nods and strolls towards the door to their left. 

Inside, the hall is dark and sleepy, as though the morning has yet to arrive within its walls. Long hallways jut off to either side of them and Callie follows the one that leads towards a stairwell, making her way up to the third and final floor. Rather than the cramped attic Callie expects, the top floor is the most open of the three, slightly wider and lighter, with the additional height of the roof high above them. She takes a breath, shoring up her confidence, and walks the remainder of the way down the hall towards the small door at its end. 

She stops at it, turning to Gloriana and taking a long, steadying breath. It’s no small risk to be here, she thinks often. If she was wrong about Dynasa, if she misjudged her intentions, Gloriana would be her only help. And if something happens to her as well… 

Callie shudders. Junivere would be off at the sunrise gala in the Hill District, schmoozing with the nobles and trying to fake her way through the small talk she seems effortless in. Callie had taken the day off from her duties, claiming to be feeling ill, and was careful to ensure that no one other than Junivere and Gloriana knew where she was going. 

“I don’t suppose this meeting is one of the ones where you can bring your muscle in with you?” Gloriana huffs, voice nervous and small. 

“Probably not,” Callie concedes. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take.” 

“I can wait. Waiting is fine,” she squares her shoulders. “I’m worried about knowing when I’ve waited too long for you and you need me to bust in.” 

“It’d probably be too much to hope that she wouldn’t use a noise ward,” Callie pushes away the grim feeling inside of her. “I’ll make the terms of our meeting to include a check-in from you every twenty minutes. Sound good?”

Gloriana looks like she wants to reject it, but nods. “As you say, hal Devotia.” 

Callie takes three long, full breaths as she stands in front of the door. It was entirely possible this decision was going to backfire horribly in her face, making matters far worse than they had before. But, as even Junivere was loath to admit, if it was possible Dynasa could be an ally, if she could help Callie unveil who might be moving against her… the risk was worth it. Better to lose by playing the game poorly than by refusing to take your turn at all. 

She raps her knuckles on the hardwood, then grips the handle and swings it open. Junivere had coached her to take command of the situation as quickly as possible, and Callie forces a proud confidence onto her movements. She lets the door slam behind her, striding into the room and taking in the scene. 

It’s not a massive room, perhaps twenty feet wide and twenty feet long. The walls are the same heavy cobblestone as the exterior, though here they are decorated with a variety of arcane instruments that Callie hardly recognizes. A few large work tables border the walls, covered with open spellbooks and schematics and astrological charts and multiple strange contraptions. It was clearly the workshop of a highly brilliant, rather disorganized, and inspired mage. 

“Hal Devotia,” Dynasa greets her, standing up from her seat at a worktable and stepping to face her. Her sharp features remind Callie of the tools around them, both seeming fit for uncovering mysteries. Her short, slowly silvering hair falls to her neck, tucked behind her ears as she works, and her robes are covered in smudges of ink and dust. 

“Before we speak,” Callie announces as directly and confidently as she can, “I have terms. My paladin is waiting outside, you will allow her to verbally check in with me every quarter hour.”

“Agreed,” Dynasa inclines her head. Her low voice rumbles softly. “Do you have more terms?” 

“No one hears of this meeting. If word leaves this room that we have spoken, I will assume you are responsible and turn the force of the Devotias against you.” 

“I have taken great lengths to ensure your privacy and safety, hal Devotia,” Dynasa smiles politely. 

“Finally,” Callie takes a sharp inhale, letting it out slowly, “You will answer the questions I ask of you directly. If I feel you aren’t giving me the full truth, I will leave and you’ll never be Magewitch.” 

“I suppose you’ll soon discover that truth is more relative than you think,” she says cooly, though her eyes sparkle with honesty. “There are many ways to deceive that don’t involve lies.” 

“Is this acceptable?” Callie asks, trying to communicate finality. 

“I accept, hal Devotia,” Dynasa’s face softens, though behind her gaze Callie can still read a skeptical and inquisitive mind, carefully guarding and interpreting information. 

Callie nods, taking a seat across from Dynasa and crossing her legs. She’s briefly jealous of how comfortable and practical wearing the priestess’ clothes are; in her Devotia attire it’s far easier to accidentally be too revealing, though she supposes that’s by design. Dynasa sits as well, hands folded neatly in her lap. 

“How did you learn about Calvin’s brother reaching out to him?”

“So I was correct, then?” Dynasa’s eyebrow raises as Callie frowns slightly. “I have connections outside of Solva,” the mage answers after a breath. “When Ellava was pushed out, and Gellan fled with her, I had a number of associates keep watch over them.” 

“Why?” 

“Excellent question, hal Devotia,” the mage grins. She seems to enjoy when Callie is focused and inquisitive, eager to see the Devotia become adept at the game. “There are precious few Devotia; active or inactive. The removal of Ellava was something I found concerning, and I wanted to know where she might go next.” 

“Why is it concerning to you?” 

“Is it not to you as well?” Her brow furrows. She waves a hand and explains, “If Suul’s power flows through Devotia and primarily through Devotia, we should seek to protect them, yes? I find it alarming when nefarious agents attempt to undermine Suul’s anointed. This is one reason I wish to aid you, hal Devotia.” 

Callie begins to speak, but Dynasa raises a pointed finger and says, “I believe it is my turn to ask a question of you.” 

“Very well,” Callie sighs, sitting back into her chair. 

“Tell me more about Suul’s possession of you at the Feast of St. Valvedor.” 

“That isn’t a question.”

“Answer it anyway,” Dyasa replies happily. “What did it feel like? How much control did you have? What did She tell you?” 

“It felt like…” Callie scratches her head, trying to recall. She’d fallen unconscious so quickly afterwards it was hard to remember at times, though she’d had a few dreams where it occurred again. “It was as though someone had pushed aside my own mind, taking control of my actions. I… I was still there, I could watch it all happen, but I couldn’t do anything other than watch.” 

“That’s good,” Dynasa nods. “That’s consistent with other stories.” 

Callie is quiet for a moment, trying to understand the mage’s reaction. She scowls, thinking, but finally concludes, “If it’s consistent with other examples of it, you can confirm it was Suul, and not someone else.” 

“Astute, hal Devotia. I was hoping you would make this connection.”

“Junivere’s appointment was such an unusual thing, and you wanted to be sure that it was actually Suul’s will.”

Dynasa nods like a proud teacher. “Your experience rules out many options.” She opens her hands wide, gesturing to encourage Callie’s next question. 

“What do you know about Mykah’s arrival in Solva?” 

“Mykah?” Dynasa thinks for a brief moment before her eyes flash with recognition. “Your mage friend.”

“Yes. You said you thought his arrival and Gellan’s return were too suspicious to be a coincidence.”

Dynasa nods. “To anyone who might have tabs on you in the villa, and trust me there will be many, where are the most effective places to strike at you?” 

“Calvin,” Callie acknowledges quietly. “And my past,” she adds after a moment. 

“You are likely to make more reckless decisions when it comes to these things,” Dynasa says simply. “Reckless decisions can be capitalized upon.”

“Of course I am, I’m a person. I care about them!” 

“That is not an insult, hal Devotia, apologies,” Dynasa’s hands raise sympathetically. “It is simply an observation of how your opponents will think to hurt you.” 

“How would anyone even know about Mykah? Calvin, I understand.” 

Dynasa takes a deep breath. “I recognize this is conjecture,” she warns, before explaining, “If I were seeking to undermine a Devotia, especially one who was not from this city initially, I would quickly study your background. I would want to know everything I could and uncover any possible weaknesses.” 

“So you don’t think it’s someone who heard about him from me?” 

“It is possible that it is,” Dynasa concedes, “but it is not the only option.” 

Callie nods, appreciating how forthright Dynasa is. In every statement it’s obvious she has the perspective and capacity to work against Callie, but none of the motivation. It was a level of honesty she finds surprising and refreshing. 

“Can you lower your noise ward so I may inform my paladin I am intact?” 

“It hasn’t been a quarter hour.”

“Lower it anyway.”

“I didn’t cast one,” Dynasa says coolly. 

“Yes, you did,” Callie rebuts.

“And how do you know that?” 

“Because you’d be foolish not to,” Callie folds her arms as a warm smile spreads across Dynasa’s face, once again proud that the Devotia’s skills have developed. She waves a hand and Callie calls out to Glorina briefly, before allowing Dynasa to restore the ward. 

“A question for you,” the mage sits back. Her face softens more than it has before, falling towards an expression that borders on friendly concern. “Do you enjoy being Devotia?” 

“I do.” 

“Mhm,” Dynasa nods, though she doesn’t seem to believe her. “All of it?” 

Callie pauses. Other than Junivere, and occasionally the priestesses, no one seems to be interested in that level of concern about Devotia. It was always assumed the role was positive, occasionally thought of to be dangerous, but always an honor. 

She mulls her response in her head briefly. She could lie, though Callie isn’t sure she’s a strong enough liar to convince Dynasa. Instead, she decides to trust the mage, replying, “As Devotia, I’m learning that I’m capable of far more than I ever thought I was. I’ve grown more in the last two months than I have in the last few years.” 

“But,” Callie continues, a little softer, “I hate how lonely it gets. Without Junivere… I’m not sure I’d have anyone I could fully trust.” 

“That is very unfortunate, hal Devotia.”

“It is.”

“Do you know why it is this way?” 

Callie’s ears perk and she sits up quickly. “I assumed it was always like this.” 

Dynasa shakes her head slowly, and Callie feels an excited burst of warmth push through her skin. “It has been like this for some time, but less than you might expect. A hundred years ago, Devotia could marry.” 

“What?”

Callie can hardly contain the offense in her chest. She trembles, feeling her hands and legs buzz with energy. They could marry? They could have relationships? It doesn’t have to be like this?

“It is difficult to believe, I’m sure.” 

“Why did they do this to me?” Callie says, her voice harsher and more filled with emotion than she expects. It takes another trio of breaths to steady herself, and Dynasa allows her the time. 

“There’s the standard explanation,” Dynasa says, holding up one palm. “Suul’s blessings cannot be biased. A Devotia with a relationship is too compromised to be a neutral party.” 

“That’s what I was told. There’s more to it?” 

“There’s always more to it,” the mage sighs. Holding up her other palm, she continues, “Devotia used to be less fixed to a singular city. They would travel, often in groups, performing blessings and the like. Often, their power would act as a check against overreaches of power.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Say a city is neglecting its poor, letting them be exploited and stripped of their meager wealth… what do you think might happen if that city was suddenly visited by a group of powerful Devotia?” 

“They’d bless the poor and ignore the powerful.” 

“It would overturn the powers at play rapidly. It was a little unstable at times, and I don’t want to pretend it was faultless, but it was different.” 

Callie’s mind races quickly. She thinks about every gala she’s attended, every banquet of the nobility, and every distant wave she tossed to a crowd who would never have the privilege of actually meeting her. She thinks about Mykah, breaking into the villa and defending it by saying, ‘Do you know how hard it is to meet a Devotia down there?’, and Calvin’s preference for avoiding nobility.

“A reactionary movement took charge,” Dynasa explains as Callie feels her spirit break open into new, unexplored territory. “They managed to convince enough people that Suul didn’t support such prejudice. Where this movement took charge they bound Devotia to isolated cities, away from each other. Places without Devotia, of which there are many, embodied these reforms as well; interpreting the changes as heralding a greater reinvention of society. They closed relationships, discouraged promiscuity, encouraged obedience, rejected most magic. I’m sure this is familiar to you, coming from Rookwell.” 

Callie nods, thinking back to every lecture about her place in society back home. She was supposed to take a wife, father children, raise them up to be loyal and chaste. Rookwell no longer even worshiped Suul, seeing even the goddess as embodying too many improper values. She grips the armrests of her chair tightly, feeling the color leave her face. 

“Take your time,” Dynasa says softly. 

Callie’s throat feels dry and a light ringing fills her head. In a short few moments, someone had provided the context necessary to reevaluate her life, filling in the gaps where there were no explanations. Why was Rookwell so different from Solva? Why did Suul celebrate love and intimacy but deny it to her Devotia? Why was it so wrong to want to be threaded? So much pain, so much frustration, so much heartache, and suddenly there was an explanation that laid it all bare before her. 

“You said you wanted to steer change,” Callie croaks. “Is this what you meant?” 

“It is, hal Devotia. I intend to push back against these forces.” 

“You want to be Magewitch,” she replies quickly. “How do I make that happen and how will it help us?” 

To Callie’s surprise, Dynasa clicks her tongue quietly and shakes her head. Callie’s brow lowers impatiently, frustrated at her response. 

“Tell me,” she commands. 

Annoyingly, Dynasa ignores her request, standing and walking over to one of the workbenches. She lifts a small, copper kettle from a stand and pours water into it, heating it quickly with her palm. After an agonizingly long few seconds, she fills two mugs of hot water, placing a small steeper with tea into each. She returns, pushing the warm cup into Callie’s hand and sits back into her seat. 

“Tell me,” Callie says louder. 

“Drink some tea, hal Devotia,” Dynasa reclines comfortably, sipping her own mug. 

“Why won’t you just answer my question?” Callie places the drink on the nearest table, standing and lightly stomping her foot. “I told you that honesty was a term of this conversation.” 

“And you will receive honesty when you sit, drink some tea, and use your head,” the mage chides. 

Seething quietly, Callie plops back into her chair, hastily taking a sip of tea. The scent of ginger and turmeric fill her nostrils, and after a few moments she forces herself to relax. 

“I intend to be your ally,” Dynasa speaks as Callie settles. “However, I am not willing to risk my alliance on impulsive decisions. There is too much at stake for that type of selfishness.” 

“You sound like Magister Velena,” Callie mutters. 

“She is just as adept at the game as I am. You would be wise to try and keep up.” She waits for Callie to take another long drink, and continues. “There is currently a Magewitch of the college, Professor Limens. He is old, unimaginative, dull, and overcautious.” 

“You want me to convince him to step down,” Callie completes. 

“Indeed,” Dynasa confirms. “Shortly thereafter, a selection process begins to name a replacement. I am confident in my ability to succeed in being appointed, I simply need someone to create the vacancy.” 

“How do I convince him? What do you know that might help me?” 

Dynasa looks as though she wants to answer but bites her tongue. She purses her lips, replying, “I… believe this could be an important test for you.” 

“You won’t help me?” 

“I am helping you,” she corrects. “Ambition without skill will bring you ruin.”

“Okay,” Callie sighs. She looks down at her legs, crossed at the knees, and wonders just how old is too old to be seduced.

 

– – –

It doesn’t take long for Callie to receive her opportunity to meet Professor Limens. Two days after her visit with Dynasa, Callie accepts an invitation to a banquet at the newly dedicated library in the Hill District, the location of most of her appearances these days. Professor Limens, having contributed significantly to the designs for the threadstone in the project, was set to make an appearance. 

“You seem…. Distracted?” Junivere murmurs as they promenade towards the library. “No, that’s not it. I can’t read you right now.” 

“No, distracted is right,” Callie whispers back, careful that the the knights surrounding them couldn’t listen in. Callie had made the difficult decision not to tell Junivere about Dynasa’s request, hoping to test her own skills instead of relying on her fellow Devotia’s advice. 

“Is this about Calvin?” Junivere ventures, giving her a raised eyebrow. 

“Surprisingly not,” Callie laughs lightly. “He probably won’t be here this afternoon anyway. You know he hates these things.” 

“He does,” Junivere grins with her. 

“What about you? You also seem…” Callie giggles, “I can’t think of a word besides ‘distracted’ now.”

“It’s probably also correct for me,” she muses. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

“I…” Junivere looks over her shoulders, a rare expression of insecurity decorating her face. “I might be meeting someone here today,” she says quietly.

Callie’s eyes widen, one part concern, one part amusement. “Who?” 

Junivere shakes her head, cheeks blushing timidly. “I don’t think I should say. He probably won’t even come.”

“Did you invite him?” 

“Sort of,” the Devotia sighs. “It’s nothing.” 

Callie rolls her eyes, “Keep your secrets then. I’ll want details later.” 

“Of course you will, hal Devotia.” 

They arrive at the wide new building, complete with marble floors, tiled roofs, and a dashingly large and ravenous crowd of nobles. 

“After you, hal Devotia.” 

– – –

As always, Callie finds the first hour of the banquet to be fairly unremarkable and tame. She spends the time engaging in endless amounts of small talk, desperately attempting to remember tiny details to make the crowd gawk at her memory and charm. But today, she feels off of her game; distracted by small tremors of rage, knowing that her role could be so different from what it was. As much as she loves being Devotia, the inevitable and instaitible question of “What if?” consumes her mind, seeking out any and all opportunities to assert itself. 

She notices Professor Limens once again, chattering away with a gaggle of enraptured listeners. He’s a tall man, with brisk short gray hair and a firm jawline. His body is solid and rigid, with squared shoulders and large hands. He’s not exactly imposing, his neck hunches slightly and his face isn’t up to the task of maintaining scorn, he’s simply large and structured. Callie had made a point of greeting him early, exchanging quick pleasantries before moving on. Later, after he’d had a few drinks and settled into the flow of the party, she’d return and learn more. 

Meanwhile Junivere also floats between groups, occasionally brushing past Callie and giving her a light squeeze on the shoulder for good luck. Something seems off about her; her charisma that typically seems effortless and irresistable feels a bit forced, and her eyes flick around the room, even a little noticeable to Callie. She wonders who Junivere would be meeting, and how they’d gotten her this worked up. A small part of Callie is jealous, knowing that previously she’d been one of the few who’d make her fellow Devotia feel this way. 

A throat clears to Callie’s left, and she hears a familiar voice softly say, “Hal Devotia, I wondered if I might have a moment of your time.” 

Callie’s heart flutters helplessly in an instant, turning to see Calvin adorned in his ceremonial armor - a few shining plates over fancy robes. He looks uncomfortable in it, clearly missing his dull, practical armor that fits like an old boot, but Callie can’t deny that he looks dashing regardless. 

“Of course, Knight-Commander,” she inclines her head, offering a quick farewell to her group. 

Calvin leads her a few steps away, leaning up against a heavy wooden bookshelf, careful to be completely in view of everyone else. 

“You came,” Callie says sweetly. “I didn’t think you would.” 

He scratches the back of his neck, shifting a little nervously in place. “You didn’t summon me last… since I last saw you. I, uh, I wanted to see you.” 

“I’m glad you did,” she smiles, wishing she could take his hand and squeeze it to comfort him. She leans in close, giddily whispering, “I wish I could kiss you right now.” 

Calvin’s face blushes softly, and he looks away as though to make sure no one else heard her. “I wish you would.” 

“And your beard is growing out,” Callie notices, seeing his normal stubble slowly evolve into something more like a proper beard. 

“Do you like it?’

“I don’t dislike it,” she smiles, sharing a sweet moment with him before letting a little seriousness creep into her tone. “I wanted to apologize,” she looks down at the ground, feeling the little jitters of guilt flush forward inside. “I don’t know what came over me last time-,”

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” 

Callie nods, appreciative. “Why didn’t you just come talk to me?”

“I got in my head,” he sighs. “Gellen and I used to be close… I… I do miss him.”

“He’s your brother, of course you do.” 

“Thanks,” Calvin smiles quickly, before softening his face again. “I don’t know how to do any of this.”

“You say that as if I do,” she smirks. 

Calvin snorts, “Your first two weeks here I wouldn't have thought that… these days you’re so much more confident. Being around you feels like you could solve all the problems in the world.” 

Callie giggles, a little louder than she expected to. “Gods, you must really like me. I guarantee no one else thinks that about me.” 

“I guess so,” he shakes his head, leaning it back against the thick wood. “Anyway, I don’t want to end things anymore. I want to keep being able to see you.” 

“Hoping I’ll boss you around some more?” 

His brow furrows. “I’m being serious.” 

“Of course, sorry-,” her sentence drifts off as she notices Cirene entering the gala. She’s beaming, face lit up brightly and adorned in a stunning pink sungown. She looks ecstatic, clearly delighted to make such a public appearance; and from the first seconds of the crowd taking her in, it’s clear she’s made an impression. 

“Is… is that…” Calvin squints, following Callie’s gaze towards the girl. 

“Formerly Lord Ciron,” Callie answers, voice flat, “Now Lady Cirene.” 

“She looks stunning,” Calvin smiles, thrilled to see her have a moment of everyone’s attention. “I can’t believe it. Did you have something to do with this?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Callie grunts, feeling her chest tighten. 

A hundred years ago, Devotia could marry, Dynasa’s words bounce in her head as a small, frantic power bubbles inside of Callie. Her fingers flick together, anxiously releasing her tension, watching Calvin continue to stare at Cirene who basks in her grand entrance. 

“She thinks you’re cute,” Callie blurts out, a pressure building in her temples. 

Calvin laughs politely. “I can’t imagine that coming up in the threading process,” he turns back to Callie. “She was always so shy, however did you get that information out of her?” 

You can’t have him, a little voice taunts. You can’t have him. 

“She was very talkative after a blessing,” she replies quickly, facing away from him and grabbing her elbows in her hands, crossing her arms. 

Calvin pauses for a moment, staring at Callie thoughtfully. “You seem upset about something. Do you want to talk-,”

“I’m not upset,” she cuts back. 

“Callie…” he whispers quietly, face softening as he takes in her nervous presence. 

“I’m not.” 

Devotia could marry but you can’t have a boyfriend. 

“You know I understand that you’re a Devotia,” Calvin’s voice rumbles softly in her ears, “I’m not jealous that you have to be with other people.” 

“I’m with them a lot,” she snipes. 

He’ll never belong with you.

“I know that.” 

Callie glares over at Professor Limens again, chatting away contentedly with an older group, quite possibly old friends of his. If she could get him to step down and Dynasa to take his place… what if things could change? 

You can’t have him.

“Do you think Cirene is cute?” She asks him quickly. 

“This doesn’t work unless you talk to me, Callie,” Calvin sighs. 

“Do you think she’s cute?” She asks again, slower. 

“She looks gorgeous,” he says, waving away the idea. “Can you and I talk?” 

Callie ignores him, consumed by the whirlpool of thoughts racing around her head. In one spiral, she’s convinced it will all work out and one day she and Calvin could be together. In the next, there’s no possibility she’ll ever have that option. All of the lessons she learned about herself in Rookwell flood her senses - she’s a monster, a pervert, a misguided fool, an abuser of magic. No one would ever, should ever, love her as she is, not until she comes to her senses. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” she says suddenly, feeling a headache slowly take form in her head. 

“I am more than happy to fetch one for yo-,”

“Stay here,” she orders, “I’ll only be a moment.” 

Callie strolls away, pushing away the frenzied emotions in her gut and locking them behind a heavy wall of stoicism and polite niceties. She exchanges a few kind words, witty remarks, and thoughtful comments as she pursues a glass, finally taking one from a servant on the far side of the hall. She stares at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing as she observes him. 

“Is there something I can help you with, hal Devotia?” He asks nervously. 

“No,” she concludes, shaking her head. 

Do you have any idea how hard it is to meet a Devotia down there?

Taking a long gulp from the drink and feeling a timid buzz follow soon after, she hovers in place for a second, gazing across the room to see Calvin nervously leaning against the same bookshelf. He remains on his own, seldom speaking to anyone, far less concerned with the opinions of the people in the room. 

“Hal Devotia!” Cirene squeaks happily, bouncing over to hug her. 

Callie returns the hug cautiously, stepping back and taking in the presence of the precious girl. In the short time since Callie had last seen her, Cirene has clearly stepped into herself even more, sporting delicate makeup and immaculate posture. She moves with a natural elegance that even Callie envies, and for one of the first times as Devotia she feels like more eyes are on someone other than her. 

“Lady Cirene,” she inclines her head. 

“This… this is spectacular,” the girl grins, beaming as she soaks in the room around her. Her eyes carry a childlike sense of wonder, as though everything was a hundred times more beautiful than before. 

“It sure is,” Callie smiles politely. “You look radiant.”

“Thanks to you,” she giggles. “Can you believe all of this is real!?” Her hands wave down towards her dress, gesturing across her whole self. “I never knew I could feel this happy!” 

“That’s wonderful, Cirene,” she replies. She aches to share Cirene’s innocent bliss, but her mind continues to race with what feels like a thousand different thoughts. 

“You have no idea how much makeup is on my neck just to conceal the hickies you gave me, hal Devotia.”

Callie smirks, fondly recalling their time together, but Cirenes next question quickly pushes away the warm feeling. 

“And did I see you speaking with the Knight-Commander?” Cirene ventures quietly, rising to the tips of her toes. “Did… did he say anything about me?” 

“He said you look gorgeous,” Callie confirms. 

You can’t have him. 

Cirene clenches her hands tightly, trying to control her excitement. She dances in place a little bit, bobbing up and down while her face flashes a bright pink. “Would you introduce us? Pleeeeease?” 

“I would be honored to, Lady Cirene,” Callie extends her hand, encouraging Cirene to take her elbow. Callie escorts her across the hall once more, weaving through the crowd to return to Calvin standing alone in the corner. 

“Knight-Commander Calvin,” she announces, striding up to him, “Allow me to introduce you to the lovely Lady Cirene.” 

“It’s a pleasure,” Calvin says politely, bowing and placing a kiss onto Cirene’s extended hand. She practically shivers with delight at his touch. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Cirene squeaks. “Well, re-meet you.” 

“Indeed,” Calvin nods, smiling with as much nicety as he can muster. “Congratulations on your threading.” 

“Call-,” Cirene clears her throat, “Hal Devotia assisted me. I’ve actually taken the mage who performed it on as my patronage,” she beams, dropping her voice a little lower and excitedly whispering. “Callie and I share the same threader!” 

“Mykah is here?” 

A small part of Callie bubbles happily that Calvin remembers his name. She’d talked about Mykah with him a few times, but even Junivere required reminders before she met the mage.

“Arrived a few weeks ago,” Callie replies quietly. 

“That’s great,” Calvin smiles. “You kept wishing he could be here with you.” 

Callie resists the urge to touch a hand to her lips, remembering the way Mykah’s had slowly parted from her, yet another thing that could never be for her. She isn’t even sure she’d want it to work out like that with him. 

“He’s an incredibly talented mage,” Cirene gushes sweetly, “So friendly and intelligent. I’m setting him up to attend the college.”

“He’ll do great there,” Calvin nods. “I’m not sure if you have any control of it, Lady Cirene, but see if you can introduce him to Professor Kelmero, she’d be a phenomenal advisor for him.” 

“I’ll do that,” Cirene smiles, trying to hide her blush. 

Callie looks away, taking another long sip from her drink. She hunts for Junivere, seeing her white dress flash in the gaps between the nobles surrounding her. She wonders if Junivere’s mystery guest has arrived yet. 

“Did you study at the college?” Cirene asks Calvin. “I know some paladins do.”

“For a little while,” he confirms, his voice friendly and polite. “When I made the leap from Knight to Paladin, I made sure to have some basic magic skills. They’ve become invaluable now that I’m Knight-Commander.” 

Callie finds Professor Limens once more, noticing the crowd beside him dwindling. She sighs, looking back between Calvin and Cirene and wondering how long it would take for him to care about Cirene the way he cared for her. Maybe he just has a special interest in threaded girls… 

“I would’ve thought you would use less magic now that you have rank,” Cirene muses. Despite being such an easily flustered woman, Cirene is far less shy than prior to her transition; conversation seems to come much more easily now. 

“Honestly I use it more,” Calvin acknowledges. “I feel like it’s my sword arm that’s getting rusty nowadays.” 

Cirene giggles and a small part of Callie wishes she was more like her. Now extricated from her aunt’s home and in a body that felt right, Cirene was carefree and enthusiastic, eagerly making up for lost time. Callie had so quickly been thrust into the role of Devotia after her threading… and now, her life was beginning to feel like one complicated puzzle where no matter what piece she places down, it never fits right. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Callie mutters as last, finishing her drink, “I believe Professor Limens was hoping to have a word.” 

“Of course, hal Devotia,” Cirene curtsies. 

“I’d still love to finish our conversation,” Calvin calls after her, “hal Devotia.” 

Callie doesn’t answer, weaving her way back into the crowded main room and striding towards the old professor. Up close, his cheeks are decorated with pleasant laugh lines and soft wrinkles, showing him as a gentle man no older than sixty. 

“Hal Devotia,” his low and booming voice greets. “You honor us.” 

“Professor Limens,” she replies, plastering a delighted smile upon her face. “I was hoping to speak with you before you departed this afternoon.” 

“Why, of course,” Limens nods, and the small group of his colleagues politely excuse themselves. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I was hoping to continue learning more about the college,” she tells him, placing her hands behind her back and trying to seem sweet and friendly. “I’m still so new to Solva, I haven’t really gleaned much about it at all.” 

“I would be delighted to tell you,” his square jaw sets comfortably, moving to the resting place of a scholar preparing to lecture. “Is there anything in particular you would like to enquire about?” 

“There is,” she smiles. “I’m beginning to become more familiar with the basic positions that govern it; professors, arch-mages, and apprenticers. However, I’ve heard unfortunately little about the position I hear you hold. College Magister, is it not?”

“Magewitch,” he gently corrects, a polite laugh puffing in his cheeks. “Not quite so prestigious as a Magister.” 

“Magewitch,” Callie confirms, as though finally recognizing the word. “I’ve heard so little about it. What does a Magewitch do?” 

“Hmm,” he looks upwards slightly, searching for the proper words. She wonders if he’s looking for the simplest explanation, already fooled into thinking she knows nothing at all. “Think about it as an arcane researcher,” he says at last. “Or, more accurately, the governor of arcane research.” 

“So you oversee study?” 

“Very nearly,” Limens nods. “On my own, I conduct research into the study of the arcane, seeking to uncover new boundaries and hidden rules in its systems. However, I also help set the standards for student’s research.” 

“What sort of standards?” She flutters her eyelashes thoughtfully, trying to seem innocently engaged. Callie steals a brief glance behind her shoulder as Limens’ head tilts up to think once more, seeing Cirene and Calvin still chatting. She laughs at something he says, timidly placing a hand on his upper arm to steady herself, and Callie’s chest tightens.

“Magic can be a fickle fellow,” Limens jokes after a few seconds, “if our students aren’t careful, they may soon find out why we have the rules we have. I won’t bore you with the intimate details of the Standard Arcana, hal Devotia.” 

“I do appreciate it, professor Limens,” she grins, forcing a pleasant expression to keep hold of her face. “And is the Magewitch a lifetime appointment? Do you have terms?” 

“Lifetime,” he answers, though he lifts up a finger to make an additional point, “in that way I am like a Magister.” 

“Oh, very interesting,” she agrees. She takes a breath, seeking a different path forward in the conversation. “Sometimes, I wonder how on earth I am supposed to remain a lifetime in my own role,” Callie muses, letting a slightly more tired tone creep forth. “It can be quite overwhelming.”

“I imagine so,” Limens’ head bobs sympathetically. “Devotia have many burdens to carry.”

“More than I expected,” she mutters quietly, quickly returning to a more enticing affect. “I can’t imagine how you have survived for so long as Magewitch. How many years have you held it?” 

“Twenty-six,” he says proudly. 

“You must’ve been so young when you stepped into the role,” she exclaims, “hardly older than I am now.” 

“Not so young,” he grins, appreciative of her subtle compliment.

“I’ve only been Devotia less than three months and already I wonder how I’ll remain another year. Do you ever consider stepping down?” 

“I assure you,” Limens’ eyes soften, putting on a gently parental tone of support, “it does get easier with time. After the first two years, it quickly passes you by.” 

“That’s a relief,” she nods, resisting the urge to glare back at Cirene. 

“But,” Limens says, voice drifting quieter, “between you and me, hal Devotia? I do believe my time has come to step down.” 

“Really?” Callie forces herself to stifle the shocked expression. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? “What would possess you to do that?” 

“You, in fact,” he smiles, towering body squaring back slightly. “You’ve been a fresh face for a Devotia. I’m not sure I can keep up anymore.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she flatters. 

“Nonsense,” he waves it away. “Forgive me if this question is inappropriate, hal Devotia, but do I detect threaded magic upon you?” 

“Indeed,” she inclines her head, taking the small risk. Dynasa had warned her Limens would be old-fashioned, it was possible he might resent that information. 

“Fascinating,” Limens nods. “As I said, it seems Lady Suul is determined to trod a new path - I’m not sure I’m up for marching down it anymore.” He takes a tired breath, but suddenly notices something behind her. “As much as I would love to take more of your time, I do believe hal Devotia is hoping to get your attention.”

Callie turns to meet his gaze, noticing Junivere waving her over. She waves back, quickly facing Limens and saying, “It has been a pleasure, Professor.” 

“Indeed, hal Devotia.” 

Surprised at her luck, Callie steps away from the Magewitch and makes her way over to Junivere, who hovers at the edge of the party. Beside her, a handsome red-headed man smiles to Callie. He’s tall and thin, with soft eyes and a boyish face. 

“Callie,” Junivere grins as she arrives. Callie’s brow furrows, surprised by the informality that was unusual for her. “I want you to meet someone.” 

Callie bows politely to the man, offering a pleasant smile and an outstretched hand. “Devotia Callana, at your service.” 

The man smiles, returning her bow and gently kissing the back of her hand, his fingers soft and careful against her skin. His motions are fluid and graceful, and up close, Callie feels an irresistible charm from the man. Under his sincere gaze, it’s easy to feel the rest of the room melt away; and when he makes polite eye-contact with Callie, lips slowly pushing into her flesh, she even feels an invigorating warmth flush through her skin. His cool blue eyes are inviting, intimate, and surprisingly comfortable to be in view of, though there’s mild suggestion hidden within them, exciting and arousing.

“Callie,” Junivere says, taking a quick breath and sweetly grabbing her hand, “this is Silas.” 

 

– — –

It takes a tremendous amount of self-restraint from Callie not to drop her glass onto the floor, shatter it, and scream explicatives into Silas’ face. Every memory Junivere shared with her, every scared moment of fear in her eyes in the late light all flood back into Callie’s mind, threatening to push her over the edge. 

“Silas,” Callie chokes quietly, raising a carefully poised eyebrow towards Junivere. “As in…” 

“My ex-husband,” Junivere confirms. Callie can’t figure out why the Devotia seems so calm, as though she hadn’t spent nights sobbing into Callie’s arms thinking about him. 

“I thought you were exiled,” Callie says quickly, trying to force a neutral tone into her voice. 

“From Tulla,” Silas confirms, a surprisingly peaceable grin on his face. “Honestly it feels like ages ago - so much has changed since then.” 

Callie holds her breath tightly in her chest. She faces Junivere once more, “And… this is who you were hoping would make it today?” 

“Pardon me, Silas,” Junivere says sweetly, briefly placing a hand on his shoulder as she steps forward to take Callie’s hand. “A word, Callie?” 

Callie sighs, but allows Junivere to whisk her out of earshot of the tall man. She crosses her arms and glares at Junivere, confused and angry and unsure of where to direct either feeling. “Why is he here?” 

“I invited him,” Junivere replies simply.

“Willingly?” 

“Yes, Callie,” Junivere laughs, taking a quick glance back at Silas. 

“Clearly I’m missing something,” Callie shrugs her shoulders and raises her hands incredulously. “Am I mistaken for being upset that your former owner, as in, bought you when you were sixteen, has suddenly returned? The one who you had to go into hiding to escape from?” 

“A lot has changed, Callie.” 

“Clearly. So tell me.” 

“He sent a letter to me a few weeks ago to apologize for everything,” Junivere explains. “Apparently, the exile was a turning point for him; it forced him to grow and change. He heard news that I was in Solva now, and he wanted to apologize in person.” 

“June…” Callie sighs, “This can’t be a good idea.” 

“Do you think I don’t know that?” She holds a hand to her stomach, reminding Callie of the scars she was all too familiar with. “But it’s been nearly eight years. Neither of us are the same people we were. The old Silas would never have apologized.” 

“So what is the plan, then? Is he here for a blessing? Here to steal you away?” 

“We’re figuring things out,” Junivere says quietly. “I’m not promising anything, but so far he isn’t asking me to… it’s been… nice, honestly.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me he reached out?” 

“Why haven’t you told me what Dynasa said to you?” 

“That isn’t the same thing.”

“It doesn’t need to be, Callie,” Junivere sighs, taking Callie’s hands with her own. “You’re your own Devotia, and your own person. You don’t owe me everything, and I don’t owe you.” 

“We’re friends, June,” Callie shakes her head, “Probably well beyond friends, if we’re honest. I would’ve thought you would tell me something like this.” 

“I’m telling you now,” Junivere says, her voice sweet and gentle. It reminds Callie of her more tender moments, where she didn’t feel the need to wear the armor of the Devotia, where she felt young and innocent. “I don’t understand it, I don’t even have to like it, but I was in love with him, Callie. Even after all these years, even with all the bad memories… it feels like the little girl inside me just wants to believe it's possible he can be that person I always wanted him to be, the way he was in the beginning.”

Callie wants to argue and tell Junivere she’s acting childish, but as she glances back over at Calvin and Cirene, still speaking happily and politely, her own childlike innocence fights its way forward. 

You can’t have him.

“You know how lonely it gets,” Junivere continues, a quiet plea behind her words. 

“Yeah,” Callie says at last. 

“There’s even…” Junivere pauses, a tiny, innocent blush spreading to her cheeks. A wishful, precious optimism pours from her voice, tender and longing. “It probably won’t even work. But because we were married before I was anointed… it’s possible I might get to loosen some of the restrictions for him. He could spend the night, Callie.” 

Callie’s face bursts with jealous heat. Her hands that had so recently settled immediately return to their tremor, shaking as she clenches them to her sides. 

You can’t have him.

Her mind rapidly devolves into anxious cycles of frustration and envy, opening the floodgates she had been so narrowly holding back. Junivere might get to spend the night with someone, someone other than her. Her sole companion against the loneliness could be so quickly swept away from Callie all because she had the misfortune of being able to be married. 

“Hey,” Junivere says softly, “What’s wrong?” 

You can’t have him but she can. 

“Nothing.” 

Devotia could marry, but not anymore! 

“I know you better than that, Callie.” 

Junivere gets to, but you don’t. 

“It’s fine,” Callie pushes her away. “Just go be with Silas.” 

“If you don’t want to talk now, we can talk later, okay?” 

He could spend the night, Callie. 

“Whatever,” she huffs, muttering, “Go make your scandal.” 

Without waiting for Junivere to reply, Callie storms away, feeling a dark and brooding energy follow her. Her mind continues to spiral as she forces her way back towards Calvin and Cirene, angrily mumbling inside about Junivere’s special exemption. 

“Lady Cirene,” Callie arrives, forcing an overly nice tone into her words, “Might I borrow the Knight-Commander for a moment?” 

“Of course, hal Devotia,” Cirene replies, bowing and trying to hide the mild disappointment in her eyes. “It has been lovely speaking with you again,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes at Calvin. 

“It’ll only be a moment, Lady Cirene,” Callie tries to hide the coldness in her tone, though she doubts it's very successful. 

She waves a hand, directing Calvin to follow her out of earshot of Cirene. She rounds a corner of the shelves, finding a hallway that leads to a large planetarium and observatory, stopping at the marble columns that adorn each side of the hall. 

“Away from the crowds…?” Calvin asks quietly. “Are you sure that’s wise-,”

“I think you should see Lady Cirene,” Callie interrupts.

He takes a step back, as though struck by an invisible blow. “What are you talking about?” 

“You and I will never get to be together,” Callie sighs, holding her arms tightly across her chest and fighting the urge to cry. “I don’t think you should see me anymore.” 

“Callie,” Calvin takes a long breath, pushing away his own frustration, “I want to be with you. I’m willing to do what it takes to make this work.” 

“Then do it with Lady Cirene, she’s perfect for you,” Callie turns away, briefly gazing back towards the gala out of sight and wondering how long it would take for her to become like the rest of the nobility. “She’s charming, beautiful, threaded, and head-over-heels for you.” 

“Is this really what you want, Callie?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think or want,” Callie grumbles. “Cirene can give you everything you want, and I can’t. You deserve it. It’s as simple as that.” 

Calvin drops a hand to the place where the pommel of his sword would be, only to have his hand fall through because of its absence. A little uncomfortable, and shifting to cross his arms over his chest, he exhales and says, “Callie, do you want to know what separates you from Cirene?” 

“She’s free to do whatever she wants.” 

“You’re not nobility,” he says simply. 

“So?”

He scoffs, lightly pushing away a puff of timid laughter. “You know my feelings on this world,” he explains, gesturing back into the main room. “It isn’t natural to me, I hate the niceties and subtleties and how disconnected from real life it all is.” 

“Well, it’s my life now,” Callie scowls. 

“But it isn’t,” he contests, “You don’t come from these circles. You’re not vain and obsessed with status and all this nonsense. You actually know what real life is like.” 

“I’m a Devotia,” Callie complains, frustrated he won’t just accept reality. “I have rules and duties and obligations that I need to follow. I don’t just get to break those because I want to. People are counting on me.” Silas’ red hair and charming smile flashes in her head and Callie feels a bitterness well up inside of her. 

“I’m not saying to abandon those things,” Calvin states simply. 

She groans, annoyed and disappointed. “I can’t be with you, you can’t be with me. Stop making yourself miserable by wanting something you can’t have.” 

“Is that what you told yourself all those years in Rookwell?” 

Callie’s heart stops. The moisture in her mouth quickly evaporates and suddenly it’s difficult to swallow. She can feel the headache she’s been ignoring force itself back into her focus and so she throws a hand to her head, massaging her temples. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” She croaks. 

“You’re so brave, Callie,” Calvin steps closer, daring to raise a hand to softly caress her cheek. “You made a place for yourself despite growing up somewhere that never wanted you to exist. How is that so different from here?” 

She closes her eyes, lowering her palm to rest on his hand, gently stroking against the side of her face. She presses her head into it more, feeling comforted by the tender pressure and slight warmth of it. 

Is this really so different from Rookwell? She wonders. It was so common to push away the things she wanted… to deny herself simply because others didn’t want her to have it. Sometimes it feels like second nature. You can’t have him, the voice inside protests, only to be met with the soft rebuttal of, but what if I could?

Calvin continues, a soft and sweet compassion filling each and every word, dedicated and kind. “Why bother with all this? Why waste your time caring about the opinions of people who just want to use you? You’re so much stronger and kinder and more interesting than all of them.” His spare hand carefully grabs hers, pulling her just a little closer to him. 

She sighs, opening her eyes but leaving her face pressed into his palm. “But Cirene likes you so much. Why would you put yourself through all the trouble of being with me when it’d be so easy with her?” 

“Do you think you’re that replaceable?” He shakes his head softly. 

“Yes,” Callie squeaks, finally giving voice to the tiny whispers of shame. 

“You’re not,” Calvin’s face squares firmly, trying to will her to feel his sincerity. She raises her hand to rest it on his chest, tugging at the fabric of his robes and leaning in to smell his comforting musk. The tightness in her chest loosens slightly, pulled open by the careful, freeing, light feeling of wanting him. 

“I don’t like that you’re threaded because it’s some fun experience for me to try out,” he says after a moment, letting his fingers run down the side of her face towards her neck. “I like it because every tiny strand of magic that makes you who you are represents a fierceness and resilience that so few people have to face. I look at you and all I can think about is how much courage it took just to make it out alive.” 

Callie can’t fight her tears now. Her eyes send tiny streams of water down her cheek, which Calvin sweetly wipes away with his thumb. She ignores her duties and obligations, abandoning proper behavior to throw her arms around him, pushing her head into the crook of his neck and letting her shaking breaths out. 

“So please,” his voice shakes a little, resting his hands on her back and bringing her into his body, “don’t ask me to move on. I don’t want to.” 

“I want more,” she finally admits, burrowing even deeper into his chest. “I can’t handle… Gods, I want you so badly.” 

“You also want to be Devotia,” he gently reminds, calling back to their previous conversation. “I’m not going to ask you to leave this. I want more, but I also want you to be the things you want to be.” 

She nods, scared and secure. 

“So, how do we make this work?” 

“I don’t know,” Callie whispers back. “Tell me,” she begs.

“Okay,” Calvin sighs, thinking quietly for a few moments. “Well, to begin, people are going to be wondering where we are right now…” 

“They already know we’re close,” Callie groans. “I don’t care what they say about this.” 

“You have to care a little, if we’re going to really do this,” he nudges. 

She takes a deep breath, letting the feeling of his beard scratching against her cheek lightly redirect her focus. “Spread the word that Suul gave me a vision for the Knighthood. All paladins and knights should take Saturday as a day of prayer and reflection. Suul wants them to venerate St. Gelmon.”

“Patron Saint of Solitude, right?”

Callie nods, briefly grateful for her endless lessons from Velena. “Say that Suul is concerned there isn’t enough attention to the needs of widows and orphans.” 

“And you brought me here to convey this vision?” 

Callie pulls back from his embrace, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. “I was overwhelmed by her spirit, and needed you to walk me aside to avoid worrying the crowd.” 

“That could work,” Calvin agrees. “People will still talk, but at least there will be a counter story.” 

“What next?” She asks, already exhausted from the careful deflections she’ll need to make for the next week. 

“If you keep summoning me every week, and spending all of your time at banquets talking to me…” He trails off, letting her fill in the details. 

“So we’ll have to be careful,” she agrees. “How do I get to see you if I can’t do any of the normal things very often?” 

“I’ll leave that to your comfort level, hal Devotia.” 

“You… you’d be willing to try and see me at night?” 

“No,” he replies softly. “The risk there is too high, I can’t put you in that position.”

“How else will I get to see you?” 

He thinks for a few long moments, eyes flicking back and forth as he considers a variety of scattered ideas. After a frustrated and dejected grunt, he concedes, “I don’t know. We’ll find something.” 

“We will,” she sighs. Taking a moment to steady herself more, she rolls her shoulders, trying to push away the tension holding her together. “We should return. We don’t want to give them more to talk about.” 

Callie takes a step away, making back for the main hall, only to have Calvin grab her wrist and hold her in place. She rolls her eyes, turning to face him and scowling. 

“I think…” his voice rumbles softly, careful that only Callie would be able to hear. “... that visions from Suul are tiresome affairs.”

“Calvin…”

“Hal Devotia,” he grins, “you look weary. You should regain some strength before returning to your duties.” 

“I appreciate the concern, Knight-Commander,” she lets humor nudge its way into her tone, softly poking fun at him, “but the people of Solva have need of their Devotia.” 

Calvin ignores her, keeping his grip on her wrist tight and gently walking her over to the nearest wall. Her body flushes with warmth as he pushes her back into the hard marble, stepping into her space and leaving her trapped by his handsome form.

“You’re practically delirious, hal Devotia,” he grins, enjoying the act. She stifles her laughter, smirking as his hands rest against the stone beside her head. “I can’t let you return until you’re feeling well enough.” 

“Calvin…” she warns, eyes flicking back towards the rest of the party. As much as she wants to protest, the straining in her panties fights back just as hard. With each puff of his warm breath on her cheeks, her torso pulls forward, aching to be fully in his grasp. 

He lowers a hand to Callie’s chin, gently tilting it upwards to greet his lips. Any hope of resistance from her quickly crumbles, unable to say no to him any longer. She returns the kiss hungrily, letting it pull all of her angst and frustrations out of her mind and replace it with nothing but the intoxicating feeling of being near him. Her hands quickly wrap themselves around the back of his neck, bringing him nearer and letting him press his whole body into hers. 

Calvin’s tongue slips into her mouth, slowly rocking his head with each sensuous movement. He explores inside her with a deliberate poise, letting his tongue dance with her own, twirling it around lightly as she practically dissolves into his touch. His hand drops from her chin, drifting down the length of her body to rest at Callie’s waist as she feels her heart tremor happily. His strong fingers caress her sides, lifting her hips into his own. 

“I’ve missed you…” He mumbles into her ear, and Callie can hardly respond with anything more than a delighted whimper. 

His kiss moves from her mouth onto her neck, which tickles pleasantly at the feeling of his beard hairs scratching against it. Callie loses control of her breaths, unable to keep them contained behind closed lips, gasping quietly into his ear as his free hand finds its way to her breasts. 

“We shouldn’t-,” she attempts, quickly cut off by the feeling of Calvin’s lower hand sliding back to fondle her bottom, softly massaging it and sending a new wave of desperation through her. “We shouldn’t… ohhhh.” 

His fingers lightly pluck her nipples, squeezing them and forcing her to focus on the tingles of pain that emerge, quickly melting into an exciting bliss. Calvin continues rubbing her ass, letting his other fingers mischievously drift towards the space between her cheeks. Her hips thrust upwards as he moves closer and closer, her body already giving into his touch before her mind could even decide. 

“Shhh,” he whispers, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I want you all to myself.” 

She moans softly in response, opening her mouth desperately to accept his tongue once again. Her body rocks with his movements, quickly growing hot under his touch. 

Calvin’s palm lowers from her breast, and her hips raise forward expectantly. She shivers as his hand lightly rests against her clit, moving in a careful circular motion that makes it hard for Callie to remain standing, and she quickly feels a need for release flush forward. She tightens her arms on his back, transfering most of the burden to staying upright away from her quivering legs. 

He pulls away from the kiss, leaning his head back to watch her with a delighted expression. Fighting to keep her eyes from closing in desperation as his hands feel all around her sensitive areas, she feels a tiny pouting expression decorate her face. 

“What… what are you doing?” She asks, swallowing and lifting up onto the tips of her toes as his fingers on her rear gently push against her excited hole. 

“Marveling at how cute you are,” he grins, still watching her expressions intently. 

His hand slips under her skirt and she feels the warmth of his palm press into his clit, separated only by the thin layer of fabric from her panties, wet with expectation. She moans again, forcing her mouth closed to contain the noise. 

“I-I can’t…” she aches, resting her head back against the marble and dragging her eyes shut, consumed by the waves of pleasure tingling through her skin. “I- mmpff,” she throws a hand to cover her mouth, narrowly preventing a louder gasp from bouncing across the empty hallway. 

Calvin removes his hand from her lap, sliding it around her side to let both of them squeeze her ass happily. He presses his hips into hers, letting her feel his throbbing erection fight against his belt. She squirms as it lays against her own, once again feeling a purring sensation in her chest at the awareness of how much larger he was. 

“I need you to do something for me,” he asks in a low voice. Before she even hears his request Callie is already nodding. “You are not going to bless me.”

“What?” The confusion in her voice quickly melts into desire as his hands pull her hips into his more, slowly rubbing them together. 

“If you bless me,” he kisses her neck, giving her a moment to steady herself, “everyone will know about this. You need to…” He moans softly, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of her pressed against his erection. “You need to contain it.”

“I-I don’t know how,” she complains. 

“I know you can do it,” he smiles, lust on his breath. A small glimmer of pride bubbles inside at his confidence in her, although it's equally matched by a feeling of dread. 

He steps back slightly, turning Callie around to press her chest into the wall and pull her ass out. Her forearms push into the marble as she feels the back of her skirt pull over her bottom and the band of her panties fall down to her knees, tightly pressed together. Calvin’s belt jingles quietly as he opens the clasp, and after a brief moment Callie feels her whole body flush with need as his warm erection lays against her ass. 

She whimpers as he waits for a moment, casting a tiny spell to be able to slide inside of her. Callie’s hips press back into him as the desperation consumes her, aching to take him into her. 

“Deep breath,” he whispers, lining up his dick, “not a sound.” 

Callie shuts her lips tightly, closing her eyes again and willing her body to remain as quiet as possible. The awareness of the nearby crowd bustles inside of her head, and she’s a little embarrassed to admit that the idea of someone turning the corner and seeing them causes her clit to drip happily. 

Calvin exhales softly as he pushes inside her, sending a powerful surge of bliss across her skin. She moans quietly with the feeling of his full length, squirming her hips and feeling his tip push up against her prostate. She twitches ecstatically, feeling her clit aching to burst. It feels as though her skin has been lit on fire, with heat crashing all throughout her and drowning her in the sensation.

She waits for the feeling of his erection slowly sliding out of her, but is surprised to find it never arrives. Instead, Calvin steps forward, grinding himself into her ass without thrusting more than an inch at a time, careful to ensure that no telling sounds would ring out around them. Callie forces a restrained breath out of her tight lips, only allowing a painfully soft moan to bounce around in her throat as Calvin takes charge. 

His hands wrap around to cup her breasts, flicking her nipples and pulling his arms back against her sides to guide his grinding motions, each of which makes Callie want to cry out in desperation. 

“No blessing,” he gently reminds, hardly providing her any mercy as he increases his speed. Calvin struggles to control his own breaths and Callie can feel the muscles in his arms flexing tightly against her sides as he tries to find an outlet for the feeling. 

Callie tries to keep her focus inward. She searches for the increasingly familiar pool of magic in her abdomen, imagining a wall being constructed around the borders of it to keep it contained, pouring all of her attention into locking it in place. But as she feels Calvin’s chest lay down across her back, metal plates lightly bouncing against her dress, it feels as though she is fighting a helpless fight. 

“I… I can’t,” she complains once again, as quiet as she can maintain.

“You have to,” he replies, his voice filled with desire. 

“I’ve never…” Callie gasps, briefly consumed by a particularly forceful push against the button inside of her that makes her want to burst. She’s sure her clit must be leaking heavily, and drops a hand to her skirt to pull it up in the front to try and keep her dress from containing any evidence. “It isn’t how it w-works…”

Calvin grunts, enraptured by the feeling of being inside of her. She wants to be annoyed, but after reminding herself of what it was like to be with Cirene, she knows the pleasure was nearly impossible to resist. 

“I’ve got…” he heaves, dropping his head to kiss her neck in order to contain his next moan. “... got an idea.”

Callie’s body is shaking, hardly able to process anything more than the feeling of his tip pressing into her prostate. Her clit aches to be touched as well, but she doubts she could move her arms from the place on the wall where they hold her up, convinced that any movement from her might send her tumbling down to the floor. 

“Tell me when you’re close,” he coaches, and Callie suddenly feels his hands heat up rapidly against her breasts. 

“What’re you… doing?” She squeaks. 

His palms continue to grow hotter, quickly turning from a pleasant warmth to a nearly unbearable heat. She shivers from the pain, struggling to bear the intense sensation at the same time as the overwhelming pleasure in her hips. She feels her focus retreat into the back of her mind, giving in to the animal-like hunger inside of her. 

She loses the battle to control her moans and Calvin is forced to clamp one of his now glowing hands over her mouth. Callie writhes from the pain, surprised to find that it excites her even more. Her hips push back into Calvin’s erection desperately, aching to feel him fill her up. 

“T-tell me…” He sighs into her ears, beard tickling her chest. 

Callie fights against the retreat inside of herself as he speeds up even faster. Her body feels slick with sweat, and each of her senses are captivated by a terrifying need for him - intoxicated by his exciting scent. 

It takes her a long moment to answer, eventually gasping, “Close!” 

Her attention relents, returning back to the control of her base instincts. Without his hand over her mouth, she’s sure she couldn’t contain any of her noises, and as the feeling of bliss bursts through her, she hardly cares. Consequences fade from her mind as she pursues nothing else but this feeling. 

Her hips clench suddenly as she feels the orgasm take her under its control. Her muscles contract, causing her body to twitch as an inescapable pleasure pours across her body, hearing her own loud moan flatten across Calvin’s palm. The release follows a second later, shooting her warm liquid out from her clit and onto the marble wall in front of her, leaving her clit tingling with a ravenous sensation. 

Callie flattens against the wall, abandoning any cares other than Calvin’s hips continuing to grind into hers. He reaches his fastest speed, letting out a restrained gasp with each movement as he seeks his own release. 

A moment later, Callie feels her skin tingle with a new warmth as the blessing starts to drift out from around her. Tendrils of light softly wrap into her skin and she feels as though her whole body is burning up under the magic. Calvin’s hands suddenly reach a scorching heat, quickly leaving her skin and rising to grip the wall above her. 

Callie’s eyes remain tightly shut, riding the ecstatic bliss from the blessing, only to panic a moment later as it refuses to leave her. Normally, she’d only feel a tiny portion of the magic in her skin, simply acting as a conduit for it to jump onto her partner. This time, however, it’s as though she’s been encased in a glass bubble, trapping the burning magic in the air around her and forcing it back into her skin. 

Calvin heaves a final time, groaning delightedly as his own orgasm takes over. Callie feels her ass erupt with a wet, sticky warmth, quivering under the feeling of being filled by Calvin. His body pushes the entirety of hers into the wall, rocking with a few final moments before slowly stopping. 

Callie feels her heartbeat continue to pound in her chest. Her veins tremble out of control as adrenaline kicks in, feeling her fight-or-flight response replace the bliss from an orgasm, sparked by the blessing continuing to burn around her. It takes a few minutes for it to subside, eventually abandoning its attempt to seek out Calvin and forcing its way into Callie’s skin. 

The bubble pops seconds later, and Callie collapses into Calvin’s arms, exhausted. She can hardly feel anything other than the multitude of blissful sensations encircling her, and she nearly feels as though her consciousness could leave her at any given moment. She’s vacantly aware of Calvin fixing her dress to cover her and raising her panties back around her hips, pulling her into his arms to set her gently down onto the floor. 

“What did you…” she mumbles, shaking her head slowly and feeling a dull ringing in her ears. “What did you do?” 

Calvin takes a few seconds to respond, still steadying himself and carefully ensuring he’s fully clothed as well. His hands carefully stroke her arms, tenderly keeping her awake. 

“I closed you in a ward,” he says softly, though she can hear a small amount of concern in his voice. “It’s heat based, and so I thought-,” he stops himself, seeing her tired expression. “It seems it was strong enough to block the blessing. Are you okay?” 

She nods, feeling sleepy and hardly cogent. “Many warm feelings…” she mutters. 

“I may have overdone i-,” 

“Are you two quite finished?” Callie attempts to sit up quickly as a third voice sends a panic through her, but fails, falling back into the wall. Calvin leans back, and Callie looks past him to see a large woman strolling down the hallway towards them, decorated in a similar ceremonial armor as Calvin. 

“Knight-Captain,” Calvin inclines his head, trying to hide the shame in his expression. 

“Who… who are you?” Callie mutters, feeling the weariness continue to pull her into the comfortable draws of sleep. 

“Knight-Captain Wellt,” the woman answers, voice proud and commanding. 

“Hal Devotia was overcome with a vision-,” Calvin scrambles, but his superior quickly raises a hand to silence him. 

“We should get the two of you out of here,” Wellt orders. “Pick up Hal Devotia and follow me.” 

Calvin obeys, carefully scooping Callie up and rising to his feet. A small part of her fights to stay awake, to understand the severity of the moment, but the exhaustion from the blessing consumes her. She gives in, slowly drifting out of consciousness and into his arms.