Xadrian, the apprentice of sorcery.

On the north edge of the city, far from the harbor, is the Sorceress’ Tower. No one knows how old she is, or what her real name is, or much of anything about her for certain, other than that she’s supernaturally beautiful, inhumanly powerful, and dangerously short-tempered. Anyone who speaks the wrong word to the Sorceress on the wrong day might find themselves transformed into a pig.

I have seen the Sorceress exactly once---which was one too many times for safety--but I’ve seen her apprentice Xadrian rather more often. He’s easy on the eyes, he makes a headache cure that never fails, and the way the Old Language rolls off his tongue always gives me a delicious little shiver. We might have gone past flirting long ago, but the Sorceress keeps him so busy that I don’t usually see him for more than a few minutes at a time.

But I’ve heard that the Sorceress has flown off--literally--to the Ivory Mountains on some thaumaturgical errand, which is why I’ve marched up to the door of the Sorceress’ tower and started knocking on her door.

The grotesque face carved into the wooden door opens its eyes and peers at me. “Jenda,” it says, with a dry, hollow voice. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Thanks. I’d have come by sooner, but I know Xadrian had something the Sorceress needed him to finish. Did he manage it?”

“She hasn’t transformed him into a tapestry, so I’m assuming she was happy with the results. Xadrian is up on the seventh floor, in his laboratory. Would you like to see him?”

“I would.”

The door swings open, and on the other side is Xadrian’s laboratory. The door can open to any room in the tower if it wants to, and I have to assume that the Sorceress decided at some point that she no longer had time for stairs.

There, behind a heavy stone table and an array of bottles and burners, is Xadrian. His skin is a deep black, his eyes warm brown, and his hair is shaved close to prevent him from accidentally catching it on fire. He looks up from a book, blinks at me, then smiles. “Jenda!”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course!”

I step forward, and just like that, I’m on the seventh floor. The door closes gently behind me. I smell ash and sulfur and, just possibly, honey.

Xadrian closes his book and steps around the table to greet me. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I haven’t been by to visit.”

“I understand. But I’ve heard the Sorceress is away for a while.”

“She is. She’ll probably be gone for a month at least.”

“Good. In that case, I was hoping I could take you up on your offer.”

He looks at me blankly, and I wait a moment, then raise my eyes to the ceiling. He looks up as well, and then it hits him. “Oh! Right.”

He gallantly offers me his arm, and I take it, and let him lead me back to the door. “The ninth floor, please,” he says.

The door ornament gives him a nod, and the door opens. Though we should see the open air outside the seventh floor of the tower, what we actually see is the Sorceress’ private chamber.

Xadrian leads me through, and I gape. The rugs are thick and beautifully patterned. Curtains drape gracefully from the walls, partially concealing bookshelves and wardrobes. There is a dressing table with an enormous mirror, and the most comfortable-looking stuffed chair I have ever seen in my life.

And then there’s her bed.

“Great powers above,” I breathe. I step forward to admire it. It’s bigger than my bedroom above the bakery. It’s round, surrounded by five wooden posts and a deep violet veil. Within, I think I see silk sheets and a pile of soft pillows.

“And she never uses this?” I ask, amazed.

“I don’t think she’s even been in here in years. She still makes me dust and clean the sheets and pillows, but she doesn’t sleep, you know. She spends all of her time in her library. I think she’s forgotten this room is even here.”

“That,” I say, “is a tragedy. So, if I were to, say, slip out of my clothes and try on this magnificent bed for size, she won’t find out, will she?”

“I certainly won’t tell her.”

“I hope not. Because I was hoping you would join me.”

He smiles, and takes my hand. “I was hoping you would ask.”