“Hey.”
“Hey?” Spoken like a question. Celyn’s frostiness didn’t go unnoticed amongst his friends. Some paused to greet Briar with mirrored looks of curiosity. At most, Celyn’s friends knew him as a casual acquaintance. The only one aware of their relationship was Sybine. But sod it, if Celyn wanted discretion, he shouldn’t have left their goodbye so long.
“Enjoying the party?” Briar said.
Celyn unwound a fraction. “Enjoying it more with this cider. My parents sent it from their trip to South Orillia. Famed for their apple orchards, you know. But I gave it an extra kick.” He held up the horn with a wink.
“Can I try?”
Celyn glanced toward his friends. None outright stared, but some looked inquisitive. All the same, Celyn held out the horn, and Briar took a sip, giving him the excuse to lewdly lick his lips.
There was no reason they couldn’t make this goodbye a memorable one, and no mistaking the way Celyn’s eyes stuck to Briar’s mouth. Celyn lived only a couple blocks away.
Briar seized his moment. “Can we talk?”
Celyn shifted uneasily. “Uh, sure.”
He led Briar to a private alcove. Enchanted lights flitted like fireflies, and in their faint glow, Celyn’s expression hardened.
“What is it?”
If Briar hadn’t rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his mind, Celyn’s callousness might have thrown him off. Their relationship hadn’t been serious. For witches, casual sex was fine, even encouraged, but it was kept private. Serious courtship was a more public affair, with announcements to the family and marriage intentions in the cards. Briar and Celyn never had any illusions about the fact that they were solidly in the former camp. But it had still been companionship through a… rough period of Briar’s life. A cold, isolated time in which his only solace was Celyn’s bed.
They could pretend all they liked that the relationship meant nothing, but two years was two years. They’d shared spell-casting textbooks,the squished bed of Briar’s gray flat, kisses in deserted aisles of the library. Celyn had been the one to console him when Briar’s mother…
They’d shared a lot oftime. That had to matter.
“I just wanted to say that it’s been wonderful knowing you,” Briar said, “and I’ve appreciated our time together. Even if we were never serious, we had a lot of fun. So I wanted to say goodbye. Officially break up, I suppose.”
“Break up?”
“Yeah. And I wanted to wish you luck in the Witch’s Rede tomorrow.”
“Oh. Uh, okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks? Good luck to you too.”
The brusque delivery undercut Briar’s confidence. Why did it feel as though he had to justify the need for a goodbye? “That’s all?”
“I mean, it’s not like we weretogethertogether,” Celyn said. “You don’t have to make a big deal of it.”
“A big deal of—I’m not. You’d rather I just never spoke to you again?”
As Briar’s voice rose in volume, Celyn cast a furtive look toward the bar, to the milling people who might overhear. “It’s not like that. Only, it’s obvious, isn’t it? We knew it would end by the Rede.”
“But we could still saygoodbye. Besides, it’d be awkward if we both ended up in Pentawynn after spending these last few weeks ignoring one another.”
Celyn’s face did something very unattractive that Briar hadn’t seen before. He sneered. “Come on, Briar. I know you love your flights of fancy, but be serious.”
“Iamserious.”
“Yeah, but Pentawynn? You don’t really believe—” Celyn cut himself short. It struck Briar like a physical blow.
“You don’t think I’m good enough.”
“No, Briar, come now,” Celyn said. “You’re very talented, it’s just that it’s Pentawynn, isn’t it? It’s a touch out of reach for someone—”
