The Dreamer's Curse (Book 2)

by Honor Raconteur

  She held on tightly to that thought as the count swooped in on her and grabbed her by the waist. He leaned in, obviously with every intention of kissing her, but Sevana had expected this reaction. With lightning quick reflexes, she released the wand from the holster on her arm, springing it into her hand, and pressed it into his Adam’s apple. “Behave yourself,” she warned him.

  He froze, looking more than a little ridiculous in that half-swooping posture, and eyed the wand in her hand with misgivings. “Surely one little kiss wouldn’t hurt anything.”

  “With you, it’s never ‘one little’ anything,” she refused firmly.

  Sarsen came to her rescue and pulled her free of his arms, turning so that he half-stood between them. “de Luca,” he greeted mildly, the smile on his face never touching his eyes.

  “Vashti,” the count greeted sourly. “You always get between us.”

  “It’s a hobby of mine,” Sarsen agreed blandly.

  Sighing, he turned back to Sevana, eyes lingering on her. “You look positively radiant, my dear.”

  “And you haven’t changed at all,” she responded wryly. Funny, she didn’t truly dislike the man, despite all his vices. He knew how to be charming. Most of the time, she just found his advances annoying. “de Luca, I don’t have a lot of time to explain everything.”

  “Romano, please,” he requested with a particularly charming smile.

  She rolled her eyes. Patience. She’d promised herself she’d exercise patience. “Romano. This is very time-sensitive, so I’m not in the mood to explain everything over a glass of wine and a seven-course meal, alright?”

  His dark eyes sharpened, once again switching from lover to business man. But then, he successfully ran one of the largest black markets in this area of the country without once being caught or fined by the Belen government, which took not only serious money but intelligence to pull off. He wouldn’t lose his head entirely because of a woman, not even her. “Yes, you mentioned this before. How serious?”

  “What was stolen from me can be highly dangerous in the wrong hands. I need it back before it disappears into some private collector’s vault.”

  He offered her an elbow like a gentleman. “Then explain everything to me on the way to my office. We’ll coordinate a search of the market from there.”

  Oh, how she wanted to ignore that offered elbow. But Belen customs restricted her from doing so and she’d hardly be stepping off on the right foot with the man if she started showing him discourtesy a bare minute after landing. With a long sigh, she put her hand through his elbow and allowed him to escort her in.

  De Luca and his ever-present butler took off back inside the mansion, she and Sarsen keeping in step with them. As they crossed the courtyard, she caught sight of several dozen people all taking peeks at them. A few faces she recognized from her last visit here.

  Shaking their stares off, she turned to de Luca and said, “The item was stolen three days ago. I believe the man who stole it is a magician of high caliber.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You believe?”

  “I never saw him,” she admitted sourly. “I chased after him, of course, but through some very nasty tricks he managed to evade me. I eventually hit a dead end in my pursuit which is why I came directly to you.”

  He let out a soft whistle. “Well, now that’s impressive. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the artifact you were taking out of a certain small Windamere village, would it?”

  As expected of a black market lord, his information network was not to be discounted. “Yes, that’s exactly what he stole. I’m not sure if he’s taken it out of the box it was sealed in. We found no trace of the box where the trail dead ended, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  “Indeed, that is true.”

  Sevana was momentarily distracted as they crossed into the black and white tiled foyer. The walls were painted by masters in some of the darker fairytales, ceilings arching high overhead with a wrought black iron chandelier sparkling overhead. The foyer itself was so spacious that their footsteps rang like they walked through a tomb, the air cool against her skin. Sevana couldn’t begin to comprehend how anyone could actually live in this mausoleum.

  The count led them around the half-spiraling staircase and toward the back of the house. His office took up most of the ground floor, as several people worked at long tables, all of them coordinating information and trade agreements for the market. Stepping inside of his office felt like entering a war room, as everyone talked over each other, papers being handed off to others, all of it coordinated by specific officers. Sevana always felt upon seeing this flurry of activity that many a government could learn how to properly organize and run a country by just observing here for a day.

  De Luca led them past all of this, without even a glance to either side, and through the open doors on the other side, into a comfortably intimate room with a small arrangement of chairs that looked remarkably inviting. Despite the modesty of this room compared to the rest of the mansion, Sevana knew without a doubt that this was the true hub of the count’s little empire. Many a deal had been brokered in this room.

  He escorted her properly to a chair and promptly took the one right next to hers, turning so that he was a scant few inches away. As long as he didn’t try to capitalize on that distance, she’d let him hover. Sarsen, prudently, sat on the other side of her.

  “Now, no one could give me an accurate description of what this artifact looks like,” de Luca continued with uncommon seriousness. “I only know what it does and you’re right to be worried about it falling into the wrong hands, beloved. I’ve had multiple inquiries already from interested buyers and I wouldn’t trust any of them to look after my worst enemy.”

  She rubbed her forehead, feeling the headache that had been brewing for the past three days start up in earnest. “Then let me describe it. It was in a black box roughly a foot squared with magical seals on it. If it’s been freed of that box, then it looks rather like a porcelain vase, standing so tall—” she demonstrated its length with her hands, “—that is hollow all the way through. At either end, it flares out slightly. It’s a light gray in color with beautiful white designs carved into the surface.”

  As she spoke, the butler was quickly writing this down into a small leather notebook. She took proper notice of the man for the first time. Really, it was easy to overlook him. Standing barely taller than his master, he had wispy hair and such a thin body that if he stood sideways, she was convinced he’d disappear altogether. What was his name again? Edward, Edmond, Edwin? Something like that.

  “No magical glow or inherent power in it?” de Luca pressed.

  “It did three days ago, after being active for months, but now?” She spread her hands palm up in a shrug. “After being in the behave box, it should be entirely dormant.” That was the whole reason they’d put it into the box to begin with.

  De Luca nodded to his butler—who likely ran the black market more than he did the house—and the man scurried to the next room over, no doubt to get people to start looking for something matching that description.

  Sevana itched to go out and explore the market herself, but rationally she understood that sitting right here and waiting was really the better option. Nothing happened in the market without de Luca knowing about it. She could walk around that market and never find the gadgick. It’s why she had come here to begin with.

  De Luca captured one of her hands in both of his and leaned in slightly, a seductive gleam in his eyes. “While we wait, beloved, may I express how heartrendingly beautiful you appear to me?”

  She rolled her eyes to the heavens with a fervent prayer that they find the gadgick soon. Otherwise she’d be forced to kill this idiot, self-imposed bribe notwithstanding.

  “What say you, Sarsen?” de Luca asked with unnatural enthusiasm. “You’ve been doing nothing but sitting about on that flying contraption for the past two days, I’m sure you’d like to let loose a little.�
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  Sevana’s problem with the black market count never happened in the first few minutes of the exchange. At first he seemed normal, if overbearing, and perhaps a bit too overly familiar in his approach. Then again, with women often flocking to him, he typically didn’t have to woo a woman so his skills had never really fully developed there. No, the problem she truly had always occurred about fifteen minutes after she was in his sphere of influence.

  Almost perfectly at the fifteen-minute mark, de Luca came up with this harebrained scheme, and since Sarsen was handy, chose him to help put it into motion. “It won’t be serious of course,” the count pressed. “We wouldn’t want any injuries. Just some light play to get the blood flowing.”

  Sevana silently asked any god that might be listening why she had to deal with this fool. Then she cocked her head to look at Sarsen, who looked not only perturbed at the idea of mock-sword fighting with his host, but also sorely tempted. (As well he should be. If Sevana had been in his shoes, she certainly wouldn’t pass up on the opportunity to chase him around the yard while waving a sword about!)

  De Luca obviously wanted to do this to show off his skills (he always tried to impress her) and thought that by showing up her friend, he’d become more reliable in her eyes. But he was a pretty duelist who had grown up with fine instructors who had never had to put his skills to the test. Sarsen, on the other hand, fought regularly with demons, goblins, rogues, thieves, and other threats of similar ilk. To call him a ‘master swordsman’ would be understating his skills. It would not be a fair competition, not in any sense.

  Sarsen looked to Sevana for a second opinion, eyebrow slightly cocked. She shrugged and mouthed silently, ‘Just don’t kill him.’

  His lips parted in an evil grin. “Alright, de Luca, I don’t see the harm.”

  “Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together in open anticipation before standing, his voice rising to call into the next room, “EDWIN! MY SWORD!”

  Edwin! That was it. Sevana usually had a good head for names, but the man had so little presence that it made him completely un-remember-able.

  Sarsen hadn’t come in with his sword so he had to duck out to the skimmer and fetch his as well. It was probably best that someone go check on the skimmer at this point regardless. She had anti-theft and anti-tampering wards up around it, but that didn’t mean that someone wouldn’t try their hand at getting it. Sevana had never marketed this invention for the simple reason that she wasn’t sure who to market it to. It took a master magician at the very least, who understood how to navigate, in order to fly the thing. Most magicians of that caliber already had other means of travel that they were far more comfortable with. But all that meant was that a very rare magical device sat in an open courtyard, and that was bound to attract unwanted attention.

  Nothing appeared to have happened to the skimmer as Sarsen appeared untroubled when he came back in.

  Within moments both men had their toys in hand and faced off with each other in the side courtyard. She stood in the doorway and watched, as a good trophy should, trying not to laugh at the whole situation. De Luca had pulled many a stunt over the years trying to get her attention, but out of all the things he had done, this one had to take the prize as the most ill-planned.

  Both men drew their swords in a shiiing of sound as they cleared the scabbards and assumed a guard position. At first glance, it looked as if they were equally skilled. Then, without any signal whatsoever, de Luca leaped forward to attack.

  For a ‘mock-swordfight’ the pace was a mite too quick. Sarsen parried the blows without any real effort, and while he was obviously paying attention, he didn’t appear in the least interested in what de Luca would do next. They exchanged several feints and parries, giving and losing ground without consequence. Sevana shook her head slightly as she watched because even from here she could tell Sarsen was barely using a third of his true strength. This wasn’t even a contest.

  From the corner of her eye she realized that Edwin the butler hovered just behind her. Without turning her head she asked him, “Why does your master do things like this? He’s too quick to jump into things. Instead of impressing me, he’s going to get hurt.”

  The butler sniffed in offense. “The master is a highly capable swordsman.”

  She turned to give him a flat look. I now see the problem. Surrounded by people who only sung his praises, was it any wonder that de Luca had an overly inflated opinion of himself?

  A gasp for breath jerked her back around. De Luca didn’t have the stamina Sarsen did, but he clearly realized the gap in their levels. The smart thing to do would be to call a halt to this whole demonstration and ease out of a potentially embarrassing situation. But men who had their blood up rarely did the smart thing. Instead, in a frantic effort to win, de Luca increased the speed of his blows in a desperate attempt to get past Sarsen’s guard.

  She swore aloud and sprung her wand free of her wrist guard. At this rate, something would go very wrong very soon and she had best be prepared to shield one or the other from danger.

  De Luca shot forward, sword slashing toward Sarsen’s chest, but in the process he overextended and she could see the sudden realization as his eyes flew wide that he was precariously close to losing his balance. For a split second, time seemed to slow as her adrenaline kicked in. Sarsen blocked the strike, but in doing so, his sword was perfectly angled to slide along de Luca’s sword and take the man’s head off. His speed would be nearly impossible to stop.

  “TOETE NE FOLE!” she commanded sharply.

  Both men froze in place, helpless to do otherwise. Only their chests moved, dragging in air, and their eyes as they looked toward her.

  “Alright, boys, playtime’s over.” She stalked forward and snatched both swords out of their grips before ramming them home into their respective scabbards. “No more sword fighting, mock or otherwise.”

  Danger passed, she undid the spell and holstered the wand.

  As soon as the count could move, he grabbed up her hand and clasped it to his chest. With stars in his eyes, he crooned, “I knew it, beloved. You care for me above anyone else! That you would go so far to protect me—”

  She ignored the prattling and tried to yank her hand free. To no avail, curse it. He might be thin, but he was stronger than she.

  “—I will accept a scolding for such a senseless display,” he finished hopefully.

  Sevana heaved out a breath. “De Luca. Make up your mind. Do you want me as a lover or a mother?”

  He blinked at her as if she had just asked a nonsensical question. “Why as a lover, of course. But you are so fierce, so brilliant in your anger that I find you awe-inspiring.”

  Oh. Is that why he kept doing stupid things, so she’d lecture him? Just how twisted was this man’s way of thinking?!

  “Alright, de Luca, behave now.” Sarsen intervened and dragged her free of him. In this particular moment, she saw nothing wrong with using her friend as a shield and ducked behind him, letting him be exactly that. “You lost the fight so you can’t monopolize her.”

  De Luca raised a hand of outrage to cover his heart. “You—you fiend! That was never a term of our duel!”

  Sevana blinked, as this idea had never occurred to her. If she challenged him to a duel (judging from what she saw of his sword skills, she could probably beat him) and set the terms as he would not be able to court her from now on, would that work? She ran the possible scenario through her head and frowned at the conclusion. No, mercy take it, it probably wouldn’t. He would either A) not agree as he would never be able to raise a sword against her, or B) view the whole fight as a ‘scolding’ and get meaninglessly hyped up about it to where she really would be forced to kill him.

  Curses.

  With evil delight, Sarsen wagged a finger at the count. “The loser should obey the winner. It’s a natural law. Behave yourself around her, that’s all I ask.”

  De Luca actually pouted and gave her a longing look. “My sweetness, this is too
much to ask! After years apart, I finally see you, and I am not allowed to touch? Oh, the unfairness of it rends my heart.”

  With those sorts of acting skills, it was a shame he wasn’t on a stage somewhere. “It won’t kill you,” she responded heartlessly.

  His head lowered as he sighed. Then he perked up again. “Still, you love me enough to come to my defense and shield me from danger. I take that as a positive sign. I shall win your heart soon enough.”

  I should have let Sarsen behead him. She groaned aloud. Too late to realize that now.

  From the doorway, Edwin cleared his throat. “Forgive the interruption, my lord, but we have received word that three articles matching Mistress Sevana’s description have been located. I have their whereabouts written here.” He held up a piece of paper in demonstration.

  Three? Sevana blinked in confusion, but it didn’t take her long to realize what had happened. “Forgeries? Already?”

  “Forgeries at a black market are not a rarity, my sweet,” de Luca responded as he accepted the paper from his butler.

  “But already?” she objected, still astounded. “No one but Master and I really got a good look at this thing before we sealed it in the behave box. That means the gadgick has only been out, at most, for three days! Just how fast can these forgers work that they can make a fake artifact and put it on the market in three days?”

  De Luca found this amusing as he turned a smile on her. “My dear, I can have a fake made of your flying machine done overnight if I so wish. These forgers are not to be taken lightly.”

  Obviously!

  He skimmed over the parchment and frowned slightly. “Most of these are close by. Shall we go investigate it ourselves?”

  That did seem the fastest way. “Fine.”

  He held out an elbow and waited expectantly. When she hesitated, that pout of his returned. “I won’t go unless I can escort you.”

  “De Luca…” Sarsen said in warning.