An Ocean of Lies (AFOS II)

Chapter 23: Laurentius

Laurentius fixed his hair, unwrinkled his clothes with a simple spell— a mix of elemental air and fire magic, a nice worded-rune— and he was ready to push the golden button near the impressively ornate door, brass and silver entwined in solid wood. It was late, but lady Evangeline was a light sleeper, always tangled in the middle of her romance books, eating box after box of enchanted chocolates some alchemist concocted for the Imperatriz of Fonterra years ago, sweet, rich, but never fattening. That defaced the whole point of indulgence, didn't it? He liked to feel hungover after a night of heavy drinking, seeing his face go a little puffy after one too many pastries. A reminder of the fun he had. He shivered. Where was she? Her servants would be asleep at that time, she liked to answer the door herself, unless, of course, she was expecting him, in which case she reveled in making him work his way to her, flower petals, a nice scent, candles, a disapproving look from the butler. But they never met like that without talking about it first, and they hadn't spoken in months.

The door opened, warm air hit his face bearing a faint whiff of sweet lavenders and almonds, "Who— Laurentius? Was I expecting you today?" Lady Evangeline fixed her dark curls, bit her rosy lips. There were crumbs of turron candy all over her silk nightgown, he could smell it in her breath too.

"My Lady Evangeline, I was just dying for some company, and I just so happened to be walking around the neighborhood," he shrugged. She looked past his shoulder.

"Oh, is that so? That's not your carriage, the owner will be quite upset in the morning," she shook her head, amused. "And those roses you crushed with it, creators—" she paused.

"I know, they're enchanted. I'll fix them, I'll enchant your whole garden in the morning, if you wish: your roses will bloom even in the dark," she moved aside, he let himself in. The house was enchanted to keep the heat in, an expensive and magically consuming work.

"There's a curfew, but you already know that, I assume?" she led him to a sitting room, a magical purple fire danced lazily over a pile of fake golden logs.

"Really, now? It completely slipped my mind, I need to buy a ledger, maybe a magical one, with electrical shock reminders to keep appointments, cues to avoid coming out of the college after curfew," he took off his shoes.

"Young people have no manners anymore," she scoffed, dramatically, but she smiled as she tied her nightgown a little tighter. It looked like she had given up those dreadful enchanted chocolates. He smiled. She seemed happier.

"Speak for yourself," he took a candied apricot from a decorative tray. It reminded him of Volstad. He put it down.

"Don't try to flatter me, Laurentius," she chuckled. "But thank you. Now tell me: what brings you here, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a curfew of all things?"

A lie, good enough to keep Lady Evangeline happy and his shapely butt safe for the night. She knew liars, she prided herself in that, given that her late husband had been the worst of them: she knew how to spot one. She knew almost everything about him, which made her... a little dangerous. And the safest person to confide in, given the circumstances.

He had to play her right.

"You see, the headmistress has taken a liking of me, if you know what I mean. She won't take no for an answer, and, well, I need to lay low for a bit, until she forgets about little old me," he batted his eyelashes. Believable enough, it happened more times than he could count. There was evidence, past evidence to support that claim. It was perfect. Or was it?

"Aha. And you came here, because? I know you've been staying at that inn near the college, sometimes, Do you happen to know the old woman who runs it? Have you been doing business with her?"