Blaze of Magic

by J. A. Culican

  He paused for a moment. Then, he let out a long sigh. "Bells, half the reason I brought you into my life was just so that you wouldn't get yourself killed here in the city. People aren't nearly as kind as you imagine."

  "And I think people helped me—us—because most people are kind if you give them the chance to be. Well, maybe not elves, but everyone else. They saw I needed help so they gave it. It's what decent people do. You make it sound like being kind is a terrible thing."

  He let out a long, slow breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe people have been nice to you, but that's just what I've been saying. You bring out the best in people, without even realizing you're doing it. And there's nothing wrong with being kind, but it tends to get you taken advantage of more often than not. There are plenty of people out there who view anyone who's kind as an ideal victim."

  "How terrible to go through life thinking that," she replied. Something terrible must have happened to him to make him feel that way. Maybe it had something to do with his mother's death? Whatever the cause, she was glad to bring out a better side of him. "The only people who ever made me a victim were every elf foreman the Crown of Pures put in charge of my village, the same for every fae everywhere."

  "Be that as it may, as I was saying, I thought your pure heart was a weakness before. But in the time I've known you, you've changed my mind. I think it's a strength, your greatest strength, in fact. I wish I could be more like you, but a prince has no business having a pure heart. The best I can do is just try to be better, try to be somebody I think you would be proud of. I don't always get it right."

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. Bells enjoyed that calm before the storm of returning to the conference room. At last, though, their responsibilities couldn't be put off any longer.

  Reluctantly, she said, "I suppose we should figure out what to do with the sword now. Is there any chance we can just leave it in the conference hall for a while? You said we can't, but I wonder. Either way, I need time to think, unless you have a great idea right now."

  He shrugged, then took his arm from around her waist and stood. He helped her down from the table. "No, I don't have any great ideas. Not about the sword, anyway. I'll see what we can do about leaving the sword where it fell."

  As they left the room and headed back down the hallway, Bells couldn't take her eyes off of Jaekob. Before her eyes, he seemed to change, growing taller and squaring his shoulders back. There was a tension to him that she hadn't noticed before but now realized was always present—except when he was alone with her. He was far more bitter than she had realized, and he had said as much while they talked. Wanting to change and actually doing it were two different things, and she hadn't realized the Jaekob she knew was the one “trying to do better," as he put it, rather than the authentic person. Or was her Jaekob the authentic one, trying to get out?

  As they walked through the doorway into the conference room, she had more on her mind than when they had left.

  Jaekob

  Jaekob pushed his food around on the plate with his fork in one hand, resting his cheek in the other with his elbow on the table. Food was the last thing on his mind. He had always found it hard to care much for other people unless he got to know them, but if he was honest, he cared for Bells far beyond the level of merely knowing her. He had acted out of character with her from the very first moment he saw her, back when she was the first person he met at the dragons' Rising back into the world.

  It troubled him that it was so hard for him to care about others the way she did. Almost as troubling, he had slowly begun to see people through her eyes. Her point of view was having an effect on him simply because he was aware of it. He wondered if he had the same effect on her. He hoped not.

  He pushed such thoughts away. Why couldn't he get her out of his mind? Obviously because… No, that just couldn't be. He shoved the thought back before he'd even finished it, and attacked his food angrily, spearing his eggs with his fork and imagining they were a yellow Black Khan, despite the fact that the khan was under dragon authority just as the Crown of Pures was. That was the theory, at least. In reality, the khan was almost as dangerous a subordinate as an enemy.

  Pushing aside thoughts of Bells didn't help. He had the overwhelming urge to go see her. The only way he was going to stop being so distracted, so miserable, was to just lay the truth bare to her if he could find the courage. How strange that he'd rather face a troll in battle with one hand tied behind his back than face telling Bells the truth.

  He rose from the table, smiled at the attendant coming to clear the table—had he ever done that before Bells came along?—and headed to her room. She was an early riser and would already have eaten, and her habit was to read a chapter each day from one of the many books in his personal library. Apparently, fae didn't have much time to read or even access to books, and it was one of the things she enjoyed most about being in Philadelphia with him.

  His heart beat a little faster as he pictured her in his mind. He could see her petite fingers carefully turning each page, stroking the book cover, feeling its texture, or absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair over her ear as she read. It made him walk a little faster.

  When he got to her door, he waved his hand across it and his eyes glowed faintly, but she hadn't put one of her cute little locking glyphs on it. They were appallingly weak, but anyone in the castle would respect the intent behind such a glyph. Satisfied she wasn't bathing or something, he opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind him.

  And froze, eyes wide. He came in just as she pulled a shirt over her head. Dragons weren't modest, but fae were. When she saw him, she hastily shoved her arms into the shirt. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of red, and he couldn't help but smile at that.

  "Don't you ever knock?" she shouted, sounding angry—but their rider bond screamed her embarrassment, not anger.

  He held both hands up. "Sorry, there was no glyph on the door. I still don't see why you fae care so much."

  "Well, we do. So what crisis do we have to deal with now?" She padded over to the bed and sat to put on her shoes. She had developed a liking for human boots and shoes and could wear them so long as she wore cotton or woolen socks.

  He put on an utterly serious expression. "It's terrible. There's an emergency, but only you can fix it."

  "What do I have to do, write an invitation? Spit it out." Shoes on, she stood and walked over to him, her delightful blush fading.

  He opened his mouth, and snapped it closed. Did he really want to tell her? He had no idea how, though. Dragons were a grim and dour people, but ever since she'd come into his life, he was seeing things differently. He had no experience in dealing with those feelings, much less expressing them.

  He thought about making it into a joke so that if she turned away, he could pretend it didn't matter... No, he couldn't do that. It was no joke, not to him, and he wouldn't cheapen it by presenting it dishonestly.

  He looked down at her and once again was struck with her beauty. She didn't have the high, angular cheeks dragons did, but she had an energy about her that was vibrant, healthy, and utterly attractive. It was as much who she was as what she looked like that made her dominate most of his thoughts all day, every day. He couldn't take it anymore, not without at least letting her know.

  He took a deep breath. "I think I need to sit down."

  "Of course," she replied and grabbed his arm to lead him over to her bed. He sat beside her as he had so many times before, but this time, he was going to say the terrifying things he had wanted to say for a long time now.

  "Bells, you know that before I met you, I wouldn't have done so many of the things I've done since you arrived. From sparing your cousin Hawking's life to caring how an elf foreman treated his villagers, I think you just—you make me see things through your eyes, more and more as time goes on. And I think it's a good thing."

  Bells rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You swooped down into my life the first day you were
Rising, and the dragons with you were bored and confused. You were already different."

  "I hope that's a good thing. Caring for other people hasn't always been my strong point. My point is, well, you are rubbing off on me." He looked at her from the corner of his eye, waiting for her reaction.

  Her pupils went wide and she had the rabbit-and-falcon look again. "I'm... That's a good thing?"

  It was time for the moment of truth. Time to just be honest. "You know that dragons don't talk about feelings, though we have them—sometimes. When I'm with you, though, I... I feel things I've never felt before. It's all the time, and I can't get you out of my head, and I don't know why. All I know is that I look forward every day to seeing you again." He paused, took a deep breath, and looked her in the eyes. "Am I being stupid? Do you even know what I mean?"

  Bells was a statue, rigid and motionless. She stared at him, and their connection brought him little hints of... Fear? That wasn't the right reaction. It wasn't what he hoped for, at least.

  He looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot. Why don't we just forget about this whole conversation, okay? Pretend it never happened. We have lots of things to get done—"

  She leaned forward, putting one hand on his leg, and brought her face toward his. Her eyes were moons, they were so wide open. Now her emotions struck him hard enough to make his mind reel, a stomach-turning blend of fear and excitement that matched his own, but there was something else in there, too. A hunger.

  She brought her lips to his, but stopped an inch away and stared into his eyes. He didn't flinch, but looked back. He could look into those eyes all day, but that wasn't what he wanted at that moment. Somehow, he suspected that wasn't what she wanted, either. He was eager to find out. He brought one hand up to her cheek and neck, cradling her ear between his thumb and first finger, and pulled her to him.

  She didn't resist, and through the deep connection they shared, the connection between dragon and rider that was unlike any other in the world, he felt her fear melt away, overwhelmed by a flood of excitement strong enough to daze him.

  Suddenly, she had his face in both her hands as their lips came together and she swung one leg over him. She was on his lap, facing him, her fingers in his hair, pulling him back, pulling him down. At first, he hesitated, but her hunger was overwhelming, and he lost himself in it.

  Bells slid her shirt on as Jaekob kissed her skin just below of the hem, moving along with it as she pulled it down, from her neck to her unbuttoned pants. It tickled, but also tingled... "Stop it." She laughed and pushed him away.

  He flopped over like she'd hit him with a mace, groaning. "No, why?"

  "Because, stupid, it's almost noon. They'll be bringing lunch in like, five minutes. Do you really want them to see you like this?"

  "It's probably best they don't," he said, "or they might be jealous." He fished around through the covers, then triumphantly held up one sock. "Clothes!"

  "You'd better find more than that," she said. Her smile was etched in stone on her face. "How did this happen?"

  He grinned even wider and said, "I think I could show you again if it's unclear. You know, just to help you out, not because I want to. Where did you ever find the courage to risk leaning in for that first kiss? It was a bit out of character, not that I'm complaining."

  She stood and buttoned her pants, while he pulled his shirt out of the covers and held it up like a trophy. He was such a jerk sometimes. A cute, tender jerk. "Clearly, as much as you say I'm wearing off on you, you're affecting me, too. I've never done that before." Nevermind the fact that they weren't handfasted, a taboo she'd never violated before nor even wanted to before him. "Proper fae girls wait for the man they want to make the first move, and only after being properly handfasted."

  Unlike the human tradition of marriage, handfasting wasn't a life-long commitment. Pures lived far too long and were too committed to personal joy and freedom, besides Dragons, who seemed to be committed mostly to duty and a weird honor code. Which didn't involve handfasting.

  But handfasting was important to them, too, a public declaration that they were, for the foreseeable future, committed to one another. Otherwise, with memories stretching centuries if not millennium, there would be too much chaos, too many feuds.

  Bells had never handfasted before, and her morning in Jaekob's arms was new and thrilling and frowned upon for more than one reason. And it was the most incredible moment of her young life. Also among the more painful moments, but everyone said bonding only hurt the first time.

  Funny, it hadn't seemed to hurt him at all.

  A knock on the door sent Jaekob hurtling under the bed covers, and she couldn't help laughing at him as she made her way to the door. Just as she expected, a server from the kitchen was there with the usual rolling tray, but today it was laden with more food than she could ever eat.

  The server said, "Good afternoon, Miss Bells. Shall I set it by the window, again?"

  She desperately tried to keep her face straight. "No, thanks, I got it. You can go. Thanks for bringing it."

  He gave her a curious look, but nodded and quickly left. Once he was out of view, she rolled the tray inside and closed the door. "It's safe to come out, now. I chased off the scary lunch fae."

  Jaekob pulled the covers down from his face and grinned. "My hero. What's there?"

  "The usual—but a lot of it. C'mon." She moved to the side with her serving set and dishes, but found there were two service settings. She froze. "Uh, Jaekob?"

  "Yeah?" Finally dressed, he padded across the floor to the tray near the window. "What's wrong?"

  She held up two plates, one in either hand. Oh, Creation, someone knew she had company. If her father found out, he'd have a heart attack. "Usually, they only serve me when they send food to my room."

  "It was probably Chef. He seems to know everything that happens in the manor, and he really likes you. He practically raised me in his kitchens after my mother died. Father was too busy working on our survival. It's why he brought Chef onto the staff here after the Rising. He's trusted."

  Bells laughed out loud. "Wait, your family cook knows more about what's going on in the manor than your father does?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "That's odd when you put it like that. But I don't want to talk about Chef. Let's talk about how good this food is after we eat it."

  Bells rolled her eyes. "Fine. Food is more important to you, I get it."

  He smirked at her, then came up and wrapped his arms around her, looking down into her eyes. She caught his musky scent and an image passed through her mind of going to sleep that night in a bed that smelled like him. It made her want to cuddle up with her blanket and pillows right then and there.

  He said, "I think I'll find a gift for Chef. He deserves it. Hey, he likes you, so can you find out what he likes?" Jaekob took the plate she offered and then collapsed into one of her room's two chairs.

  "Good idea." She dished up her plate and sat in the other chair, and watched him eat—every move of his muscles, every shift in his expression—drinking it all in. He was actually getting a gift for someone on his staff for no real reason than gratitude. And it was his own idea.

  She nibbled at her food while they talked about the people who had raised them, parents, and stories from their childhoods. He had never opened up quite like this in all their time together. Between that and the still-glowing ember in her stomach from their morning together, when she had opened up to him in an entirely different way—but also for the first time—she felt warmed from her core to her fingertips. This had been the best morning she could ever remember.

  After lunch, she felt a different kind of hunger again. She pulled him back onto the bed and kissed him with far more enthusiasm and less hesitation than she had earlier.

  In her dream, Bells relived that night over and over again. Glimpses of his lips on hers, the taste of his skin, her fingers digging into his back, losing track of where her body ended and his began, wrapped ar
ound one another. And a sense that this was as close as two spirits could get to one another while still chained to mortal bodies.

  But then, suddenly, she dreamed of an earthquake. A giant chasm opened, pulling Jaekob down into it as he screamed her name over and over. But when the chasm closed over him, she still heard him screaming her name, but his voice had shifted. It sounded not like Jaekob, but more and more like Mikah—

  She sat bolt upright, confused, blinking away the dream-sights. The real world and the dream overlapped for a moment and then her vision cleared, leaving her to wonder what message she was supposed to get out of the dream. She found herself looking, blinking, into Mikah's eyes. He was shaking her.

  "Bells, get up! We're under attack, you need to get up."

  "Wha... Attack?" Her eyes went wide and, by reflex, she looked over at Jaekob, who was rubbing his eyes and propped up on one arm. She looked back at Mikah, knowing they were caught. Damn, could she look more guilty?

  Mikah said, "Don't worry about that. We can and will discuss that later, but right now, you have to get up."

  Bells didn't know what to say. Her cheeks grew hot, flushing, and she felt around the bed for her clothes. She found them in a pile on the floor next to the bed and climbed out to get them. When Mikah looked at her, his eyes roamed over her once, briefly, but she saw no sign of this seeming unusual to him.

  She got dressed as quickly as she could, though she was probably beet-red. As embarrassed as she was, an attack was going on and there was no time for shame. "Who's attacking us?"

  Jaekob climbed out of bed and hastily gathered his clothes, which were spread all over the room instead of in a neat pile like hers. "Yes, who dares attack the dragon ruler's home?"

  Mikah shook his head, watching Jaekob get dressed. "You couldn't have come to me first, son? There is a way things are done." He took a deep breath, furrowing his eyebrows, but then his features relaxed. "One thing at a time. Our perimeter is being overrun by a mob of those who were touched by the sword but didn't end up getting the quakes. It looks like they have their own wills back, and they're furious about having their personalities stripped and thoughts altered. I'm told they have personality changes. It happened all at once, people streaming in from all over the city. They gathered outside, and we thought that perhaps they were here to protest something. In a way, they are."