Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

his priest's cloak, swinging it off his shoulders and dropping it on the bed. He was wearing trousers and a thin, white shirt beneath it, and Corin swallowed hard, his mind immediately remembering the rush of heat Rafferty had kicked off with his touch the previous day.
    Corin watched as Rafferty crossed the room again, turning when he reached the far wall. He knelt next to the rug, rolling it up and across the room. The floor was glowing faintly, barely visible even in the dim light of the room. It was nothing like the pattern on the roof, which seemed to have been a random selection of tiles.
    The pattern on the floor of Rafferty's room was done completely in shapes. Jagged slashes, random swirls, and interconnecting lines were all contained within a thin circle that glowed more brightly than the rest of the… whatever it was.
    "It's a spell circle. You'll stand on one side," Rafferty gestured to a blank spot close to the window, "and I will stand here." Rafferty hesitated then stood, dusting his hands off on the front of his trousers. "We'll both have to cut ourselves to open a path to our energy. Then I'll cast the spell, and that will be it."
    "How much of a cut?" Corin asked, frowning. Rafferty held up his hand, spacing his thumb and forefinger a few inches apart.
    "It won't have to be deep," Rafferty said, crossing the room to the writing desk. He skirted around the circle, taking care to not step on the lines of the circle despite how much space they took up. It stretched nearly from one side of the room to the other. Corin made himself look away, but the room was still filled with the unearthly glow. Would he ever get used to it? Then again, hopefully he wouldn't have to.
    "What happens after the spell is cast?" Corin asked. "It'll have to be renewed still, right?"
    Rafferty nodded, picking up one of the candles. He blew out the other, but the light in the room didn't seem to dim. "The head priest can't argue with me after I prove that the spell works. It will need to be cast each year or so, but casting the spell is better than what they do now."
    Corin accepted that, wondering why it seemed like Rafferty wasn't telling him something. It all seemed logical, and Rafferty didn't seem shifty or like he was trying too hard to sell Corin a lie. He was matter-of-fact about the ceremony, about the demons, and about the priests. He was probably reading too much into it all, Corin decided. The lack of sleep, not eating well, having to suddenly reconcile that demons were real… well, it was no wonder he felt off kilter.
    Rafferty set the candle down on top of the bureau, the light highlighting the melancholy look on his face. It was the same look he'd had when Corin had seen him that one time on the roof when Rafferty had been standing at the top of one of the towers. It was a sad look, more wrenching than the look Moori had worn when the miller's son had broken her heart last summer.
    "Why are you sad?" Corin asked, the words coming out before he could think twice about asking such a personal question.
    Rafferty stepped back, out of the immediate range of the candlelight. He didn't answer, and Corin regretted saying anything. Why would Rafferty confide in him? He'd barely been speaking to Corin for two days and only because he had to. If Corin didn't have the energy that Rafferty needed, Rafferty would have been ignoring him as he had the previous few months. That thought hurt, but Corin tried to ignore it.
    "It's a long story," Rafferty said, his voice quiet. He sounded exhausted, his voice flat, as if he was tired. He skirted around the bureau, a shadowy shape in the candlelight as he moved over to the rug. He unrolled it slowly, covering the glowing spell circle again. Once he reached the other side, he paused, still kneeling on the edge of the rug.
    Corin bit his lip, wishing again that he'd kept his mouth shut. Nothing good ever came from opening his mouth. He should have known that by now; it was what had gotten him in trouble at home, more often than not, and it was what had gotten him in trouble when he'd first arrived at the monastery, too.
    "I grew up around here," Rafferty said, climbing to his feet. He brushed off the knees of his trousers, walking across the rug towards the bed where Corin sat. "It's a little village to the west of here, though I haven't been back in a few years."
    Corin bit back his curiosity, waiting for Rafferty to continue. Why had Rafferty been sent to the city to be trained, if