This was... not going according to plan.

Sedgewick removed his glasses and rubbed his bleary eyes before refocusing on the counter spell before him. He continued scratching the runes onto the paper, and hoping that the seventeenth time was the charm. He'd already gone through all the standard counter spells and their variations with no improvement. In fact, if his most recent examination was any indication, the curse was getting worse instead of better. It had become rather obvious what it was designed to do. His magic was acting increasingly irregular, and much like lighting the stove earlier, tasks which had barely required his concentration before now required him to actually focus on whatever he was attempting. He could only guess at what continued exposure would do to his magic, and truth be told, he had no desire to confirm his suspicions.

Feyla had been nice enough to stop by after her date and assist him for a little while. He'd guided her through a couple of the counter spells, and although she was inexperienced in this type of complex casting, she'd managed well enough for him to confirm that a different source of magic wasn't making the spells any more productive. He'd sent her off shortly after. No sense in two of them losing sleep over this.

Sedgewick placed his aching head in his hands. Gates, this was supposed to be simple! His magic essence was starting to thrum from the constant use. He tried to remember the last time that had happened, but his head was too clouded to focus, and runes were practically dancing in front of his eyes. Shaking off his tiredness, Sedgewick pushed himself out of his chair and began pacing the room. What was he missing? It seemed that every time he thought he'd figured out how to solve it, three more layers of complications revealed themselves, forcing him to restart from the beginning. He needed more information.

Thankfully, there was someone who could give it to him. And she was sitting in a nice, comfy prison cell.

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There was always something rather satisfying about confronting prisoners, and even in his sleep-deprived state, Sedgewick found this time no exception.

"I'll be putting her back in about half-an-hour," the warden said as he closed the heavy door to the interrogation room.

The room was dim and windowless with only a lamp by the door for light. Heavy chains were bolted into the stone ceiling and floor, built to latch around the cuffs already holding the prisoner.

Which was currently a rather disgruntled auburn-haired woman.

"I suppose you know why I'm here."

"Hellgates take you, Alverdyne," she spat out while struggling against the manacles around her wrists.

"A rather ironic statement, considering which one of us is messing around with black magic, Miss...Zedeya," he said, after briefly glancing at the paper in his hand. Folding it up, he placed it in his inner coat pocket before beginning to circle her kneeling form. "Let's not play games. You know why I'm here."

"Figured it out already? The person who gave it to me thought it would take longer."

His hand shot out and grabbed a chunk of her hair, forcing her to look up at him. "Don't toy with me, girl. You won't like how it ends for you."

"You don't scare me. Not anymore. Not when you're like this."

His mouth hardened and he let go of her hair. "You should be. I might not know who gave it to you, but I do know that whoever it was is still out there. And you are in here. With me. So maybe you should stop trying to defend the person who left you here and start trying to convince me to testify that we should let you off on probation in fifty years, instead of leaving you to rot for another hundred." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. "And don't hold out hope that your master or mistress will come rescue you. I've been in this business for a very long time, and quite frankly my dear, you are the very definition of disposable." He knelt beside her, a fire in his eyes. "Now, tell me what you know."

He could see the resolve in her eyes wavering, replaced with a slowly building doubt and worry. She swallowed and drew in a shaky breath before beginning. "I, I received a letter a few months ago. Someone asking if I was interested in really learning magic. It's not exactly easy to keep forty other women in line, so I said yes, and began receiving books and instructions; we never met in person."

Well, that explains her utter inexperience, he thought.

"Placing that curse on you was supposed to prove I was ready for the next step in my training." She shook her chains. "Obviously, I wasn't."

"I see. One-hundred fifty years it is then." He turned to go.

"WHAT! But you said— "

"You received books and bad advice from a stranger you never saw. That is not useful information and is certainly not worth all the trouble of me getting you a lighter sentence. Good day." He turned to go.

"WAIT!" she shouted, right as his hand touched the door handle.

"Yes?" he asked, turning halfway.

"I didn't see my instructor, but I think I know where this person lives."

He leaned against the door frame. "I'm listening."

"I was sent a scrying orb. I've never had one because of how expensive they are, but I have seen them, and this one— "

"Go on."

"It wasn't made here in Abreyla. It had markings on it, markings that you'd only see if it was made in the Northlands."

Sedgewick was silent for a moment as he digested the information. Then, slowly, a sinister smile spread across his face. "Thank you, my dear. You've been very helpful."

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Feyla was in the middle of a lovely dream. She was lounging on a bench in the wonderfully warm sunshine while someone massaged lotion into her shoulders. She was just about to turn around and ask whoever it was to get her another drink when the pounding on her door woke her from her beauty sleep.

"FEYLA! Gates, woman, open up! We need to get started!"

Feyla groaned and buried her face in her pillow as the fragmented remains of her dream left her. Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away, she thought.

Another round of pounding proved that was not the case.

Grumbling under her breath, Feyla pulled herself out of bed and tied a robe around her before sleepily stumbling towards her front door. She propped herself up against it and began shouting back at her very unwelcome visitor. "GO AWAY, Sedgewick! Not all of us can survive on three hours of sleep a night."

"Oh, come on now, Feyla, let me in! This is important. We don't have a moment to lose!"

Muttering something about how smothering people with pillows was morally wrong, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Sedgewick breezed inside, his earlier tiredness all but forgotten. He began pacing the room, speaking quickly and with a slight tremor of excitement. "I should have realized it sooner; I really should have. After all, this is exactly her forte, and I should have known better than to assume she'd hold up our truce indefinitely. And I'm almost ashamed to say it, but gates is she brilliant! This is most definitely her finest work..."

Feyla's head spun as Sedgewick continued to prattle on about "curses", "her", and the most confusing of all, "travel arrangements".

"Sedgewick, SEDGEWICK!" she shouted in a desperate attempt to catch his attention.

"Honestly, Feyla, there's no need to yell. I'm right here."

One of Feyla's sleep-deprived eyes twitched, but she refrained from acting on her urge to slap him senseless. "Sit down and explain everything. Slowly."

They both took a seat on the settee in Feyla's cozy living area. She passed out one of the cups of tea she'd whipped up for both of them, and then Sedgewick got down to business.

"The short version is that there's a sorceress in the Northlands who I have reason to believe is behind all this. Her name is Bilara, and she and I have had a... personal rivalry for many years. From what I've learned of this curse, it's certainly her finest work--"

"So did you figure out how to break it?" she asked. Although she usually found his enthusiasm sort of cute, it was the middle of the night and she had no interest in hearing the same thing all over again.

"Oh, right. Well, I suppose I could go through the trouble of trying to break it, I mean, obviously I'm not incapable or anything, it's just--"

"You're stumped, aren't you?"

Sedgewick bristled, forcing Feyla to fight back a smile over his reaction. "I am perfectly capable of solving this! It would just take...time. More time and magic than I have."

"I don't understand." She frowned, sitting her cup of tea down.

Sedgewick looked away, his face a mask that she desperately wanted to read. He ran a hand through his red hair and paused a moment before answering her. "The curse is corrupting my ability to access my magic essence. By the time I figure out how to break it, I won't have the power left to do so."

Feyla's blue-green eyes widened. For as long as she'd known Sedgewick, his magic had been his passion, his obsession even, and although she could probably picture a magic-less Sedgewick, she highly doubted he could. "What are we going to do?"

He rose from the chair and turned to her. "I might not know how to break this curse, but I do know Bilara. She's intelligent, arrogant, and easily bored."

"So, basically an evil, female version of you?"

He gave her a withering look.

She blushed and twisted a strand of her hair. "Sorry, bad timing. Go on."

He rolled his eyes. "This is just another one of her stupid little games. If I confront her while I still possess most of my strength, then I believe I'll be able to make her reveal enough about the curse in order to solve it in time. There's just one problem."

"What?"

"She lives in the Northlands."

"Okay?"

He huffed. "I'm the Abreylian Minister of Magic. I can't cross sovereign borders unless I have approval from Queen or a request for assistance from a Lordship that borders that land."

"But the only Lordship that borders the Northlands is— "

Feyla froze as the realization hit her. No. Please no. He couldn't mean that.

She took one look at his sheepish smile and began reevaluating whether slapping him could really be considered wrong. Outrage bubbled up inside her as she finally realized why he had come to see her.

"NO! NO! Absolutely not!" She jumped up from her chair and glared at him.

"Please, Feyla. You know how I am; there's no way I'll be able to convince Lord Beryn to grant me approval. If I go over there without it, I could cause an international incident, and considering that we haven't exactly been on good terms with them for the past— "

"I am not flirting with an ex just to get you a pass! Suck it up and go tell Eleyna!"

"But I don't want to tell Eleyna!" he moaned.

"Oh, stop whining like a baby!"

"For the hundredth time, I DO NOT WHINE!"

His voice echoed off the walls as they both went silent and glared at each other. Finally, Sedgewick broke the gaze and lowered himself slowly onto the settee. "I can't, Feyla, I just..." He looked up briefly, his face forlorn and a mixture of fear and shame in his amber eyes. "I can't."

Feyla's stance soften and she took a seat beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Eleyna trusts you, Sedgewick, I'm sure if you just explain— "

"I'll give you a week's extra vacation time."

Her ears perked up and she stared at him appraisingly. His desperation was evident, but still, only a week? She and Beryn had parted on fairly civil terms, but that didn't mean she wanted to become reacquainted with that pompous, self-absorbed, incorrigible flirt. At least, not without a bigger incentive. "...Three weeks."

He cringed and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Two weeks?"

"Deal."

"YES!" Sedgewick jumped up from his seat and dragged her with him, spinning her around the room before crushing her against his chest. "You are a gem among women, Miss Everbloom."

Feyla's heart flittered in her chest like a hummingbird. He was so close and warm and his addictive scent was invading her nostrils, reminding her of musky spices and magic. Oh, she could linger here for ages.

He let go.

She buried her disappointment and hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt. Why couldn't she just let this whole thing fade? Her life would be so much easier if she'd just stop hoping that he'd, that he'd...

"You won't regret this, I promise," Sedgewick said, giving her that rare smile she loved to see.

She smiled back and hoped it didn't look as fake as it felt. "I trust you. So, when are we leaving?"

Sedgewick pulled out his pocket watch. "In about two hours."

"WHAT?!"

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Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading and don't forget to comment and vote! It really makes my day when you do. How are y'all enjoying the story? Is there anything you'd like to see more of? Less of? Let me know in the comments!

Chapter Nine Excerpt:  "You're never wrong," he mumbled to himself.  "Not about things like this."