“Don’t…” Marcus’s face etches with concern as he misconstrues the source of my disappointment. Before I realize his intentions, he leans forward, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me from the bed and onto his lap. He holds me tightly, apparently offering comfort.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I am.”
I blink, startled by the contact, unsure how to proceed. I clear my throat. “Marcus—”
“What are those?” he asks suddenly, looking just behind me, past my skirts.
Going cold, I slowly turn my head. The spellbook, coins, buttons, and hairpins fell when Marcus scooped me off the bed, and now they’re scattered on the floor.
Slowly, he picks up a hairpin, frowning at it, and then he looks back at me, his grip tightening on my waist. “What is this?” he demands.
I wet my lips, terrified. “A hairpin.”
“It’s a tether,” he says, his voice hardening. He sets it down and then picks up the book, scowling at the pages, his expression growing stony. Livid, he looks up, shaking the book. “Where did you find this?”
“In Heston,” I say, obviously not elaborating on how it came into my possession.
“And why do you have it?”
“You’re gone so often,” I whisper. “And you never explained why or where you were going—”
“Because it is none of your business!” he snarls.
“So I followed you, and I found the gateway.” I begin to tremble. I’m locked in his arms, in his house, and there’s no one nearby but a mute housekeeper—and I doubt she’d help me even if she could speak.
“Go on,” he says, tossing the book aside, his eyes locked on mine.
“I researched while you were away, tried to find an explanation.”
He stands, pulling me to my feet, keeping me close. I’m locked against his chest, forced to tilt my head up to look at him.
“Why were you making tethers?”
“I was practicing.” I swallow, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “So I could follow you the next time you left.”
The sorcerer growls under his breath, clutching me closer. “In all your research, did you learn how dangerous the faerie realm is? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if the spell were unsuccessful? If you ended up across the realm from me? This is far above your level. Do you even know how to tell if the spell worked?”
I shrug, helpless.
Marcus swears under his breath. “Brynn, I swear, you are the most exasperating—”
He cuts himself off, shaking his head. Then his hand moves to the base of my neck, and his fingers twine through my hair. I hold my breath, staring up at him, startled by how close he’s brought us.
“You will never set foot in that forsaken realm—do you understand me?” he says low, his words a command.
Gulping, I nod.
“If something were to happen to you…” The sorcerer studies me for several more seconds, and slowly, his expression softens. I lower my eyes, looking at his doublet instead of his face.
I know Gavin loves me, but Marcus is right. Every time we get too close, he pushes me away. I’m so tired of the constant game of tug of war. And though I hate it, sometimes I wonder if Gavin will ever completely let me in. Or will there always be an excuse, some reason we can’t be together?
Slowly, I flatten my palm on Marcus’s chest. I intend to push him back, demand he put space between us, but I end up splaying my fingers over his doublet.
Marcus tenses, but he doesn’t move or speak.
“If I were to ask you something,” I begin. “Would you tell me the truth?”
He stays silent, but I can feel his hesitance.
I look up, meeting his eyes even though it’s terrifying. “Have you ever been in love?”
My question must surprise him because he lets his hand drop from my hair. After several long moments, he says, “Yes.”
My stomach flips, and my pulse quickens. “What happened?”
He shifts back, letting me go, and walks to the window. “I’m from a long line of sorcerers,” he says, staring out the glass. “For generations, there’s been magic users in my family. I began learning the art when I was a child. By the time I reached adulthood, I was powerful—too powerful, to be honest.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I prod, “What happened?”
“I met a girl one day on a mountain path. She was beautiful, unique—the only person I ever encountered who was almost as strong as I.” He pauses before clearing his throat and continuing, “For certain reasons that aren’t important, we couldn’t be together. It was forbidden. But we began to meet in secret. I was drawn to her, mesmerized by everything about her, especially her magic. Together, we could have been unstoppable.”
“Could have been?”
“She left me, said I loved her power more than her.”
“Did you?”
Marcus finally looks over, meeting my gaze. “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love her as well.”
Before I can push him further, he walks from the room, closing the door behind him.
I stand here, mulling his words over, but my mind keeps returning to one small thing he said. I glance at the abandoned tethers on the floor. Marcus asked what I would have done if the spell were unsuccessful.
Which means…it must have worked.
28
“Try again,” Marcus says, sitting in his usual spot across the desk.
“What if the mouse doesn’t want to become a ferret?” I demand, scowling at the little rodent in the wire cage between the sorcerer and me.
And I’m not the only one watching it—Porter’s on his perch, looking very interested in this experiment indeed.
It’s taken me two weeks, but I’ve graduated from working my metamorphosis magic on flowers—I even shifted a rose to a daffodil yesterday—and Marcus decided it’s time we move on to small creatures. The little gray mouse was brown when the sorcerer brought him in this morning. Poor thing has been so many colors this afternoon, he probably feels like a quilt.
“Are you serious?” Marcus asks, looking bored, slouching in his seat. “That mouse has dreamed of this day his entire life. You’ll be moving him up the food chain.”
I can’t help but smile. “Has he?”
“Most assuredly. Say the spell, imagine the change, and grant the poor creature his greatest desire.”
“I don’t like it,” I say again, though it’s not the first time today, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
“Noted. Say the spell.”
Doing as directed, I say the words and clench my eyes shut.
“Hmmm,” Marcus says, sounding a little too amused for my liking.
Slowly, I pry my eyes open. “What is that?” I ask, aghast.
The mouse creature stares at me, and I swear it’s scowling—I’d be scowling at me if I were him. His body is long, like a ferret, but the rest of him looks positively mouse-like.
“That’s it,” I say, rising to my feet. “No more.”
Marcus laughs. “He’s fine. Try again.”
“No.” I cross my arms, adamant.
“You’ll never learn if you don’t practice.”
“I don’t want to learn!” I throw my hands in the air. “Marcus, I hate metamorphosis. I feel ill every time I cast a spell.”
Marcus comes around the desk and sets his hands on my shoulders. Leaning down, he meets my eyes. “He’s fine. Look.”
I turn just in time to see Marcus tweak his wrist and turn the mouse back into a mouse.
“I don’t want to accidentally inflict pain on something,” I whisper. “I won’t do it anymore.”
Marcus frowns.
“Send me away,” I say stubbornly. “I don’t care.”
“I’m not going to send you away.”
“You’re frustrated with me.”
“I’m not.”
And maybe he’s telling the truth. He smiles down at m
e, looking very much like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Perhaps,” he says slowly, “I wish I had your convictions when I was young and eager to learn.”
“I’m eager to learn as well. Just not that.”
“I know.”
He steps back, stretching his arms over his head, and returns to his seat with a sigh. “Let’s work on something else.”
“What did you mean?” I ask, ignoring him.
“About what?”
“When you said you wish you had my convictions when you were first learning.”
He stares at me, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s going to answer. I stare right back.
“You don’t want to know.”
A cold feeling crawls over my skin, fear mixed with a premonition. Marcus is probably right—I really don’t want to know.
“Tell me anyway,” I whisper.
“I dabbled in things I should have left alone.” He nods toward the locked spell book at the back of the room.
Slowly, I turn my head to look at it. “Is there anything good in that book?”
“It was my great, great grandfather’s. Let’s just say if there had been a Sorcerer’s Council while he was alive, he would have been booted out of the College of Sorcery.”
“Why do you keep his book?” I demand.
“I thought it was safe here.” He smirks. “Of course, I didn’t expect my novice apprentice to go browsing through the pages and actually manage to work a spell.”
I feel myself flush.
“Come back. Sit down.” He nods me back to the desk. “My mother specializes in botanical magic. Perhaps you’re more comfortable with that?”
“What would I be doing?”
“Today? Let’s see if we can coax a flower seed to sprout.”
I hesitate, hovering behind my chair. “That type of magic seems harmless enough.”
Marcus chuckles. “You’d think so, but let me tell you about the time a poor boy got a hold of one of Mother’s creations and ended up planting a beanstalk that was wider than a tree and grew all the way to the sky.”
“You’re joking.”
He laughs and produces several small seeds from the satchel at his side.
“Well, look at that.” I set my hands on my hips. “You’re oddly prepared. It seems you already planned to work on this today.”
The sorcerer looks up, smirking. “What can I say? You’re rather rubbish at metamorphosis.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn to the mouse. “I suppose we should let him go.”
“No need. I’ll feed him to Porter later.”
“That’s awful.”
“Very well,” Marcus says, humor crinkling the edges of his eyes. “Take him outside and let him go. Give the poor fellow a fighting chance.”
Porter lets out a disgruntled whoo as I pick up the cage and do precisely that.
“Oh stop,” I tell the owl as I pass. “You don’t want to eat this one anyway. For all you know, you’d sprout pink feathers.”
Marcus’s laughter follows me up the stairs.
* * *
When I return, I find the sorcerer staring at the swan painting. He turns when I come down the steps but then looks back.
“I’m going to leave again in the morning.” He turns, his face solemn. “Do not follow me.”
My mood plummets. Maybe part of me was hoping we could avoid this forever. Things have been going so well.
“Where do you go when you cross?” I ask. “Why do you go so often?”
He turns his head, watching me. Then he turns back to the painting, touches the canvas, and the scene comes to life. “I visit her.”
I gape at the landscape. The swan slowly floats across the lake, and the trees move in the afternoon breeze.
“I didn’t imagine it,” I whisper.
“No, but I stopped animating it after that first day. I thought your heart was going to go out; you were so flustered.”
I scowl at him. “You could have told me.”
Shaking his head, he sighs. “It was too personal, and I barely knew you. The painting, the sculptures—I designed them to mimic her movements throughout the day so I could keep an eye on her while I was here.”
I let him stare at the scene for several seconds before I say, “You visit a bird?”
The sorcerer lets out a long sigh. “I do.”
“Why don’t you let her go?” I whisper, knowing I’m giving away too much, but I trust Marcus and I have become good enough friends that it will be all right.
He watches me from the corner of his eye. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why?” I set my hand on his arm. “She’s the girl you loved, isn’t she? She tried to leave you, and you turned her into a swan, trapping her in the faerie realm so she couldn’t escape.”
Slowly, Marcus turns to me and narrows his eyes. “How…?”
“I met someone in the village,” I whisper. “Someone who knows you…and knows Eva.”
He looks stricken, utterly speechless.
“Evie,” he finally whispers. “To me…she’s always been Evie.”
“But to her people…?”
He stares at me. “So you do know. You’ve met the elf, the man who stole her from me?”
Assuming he means Rune, I nod.
“When?”
Frowning, I look down, studying the trim on my gown. “A few months ago.”
“All this time you’ve believed I was a villain like he surely claimed, yet you stayed?”
“At first, I didn’t know what to think. But the longer I was around you…”
“It was the greatest mistake of my life.” Marcus’s eyes search mine, begging me to understand. “I’ve tried to fix it every day since.”
“Fix it? Why don’t you just lift the curse and let her go?”
“Because it’s not my curse to break.” The sorcerer places his hands on my arms, his expression serious and his eyes just a touch wild. He looks like a man who just had an epiphany. “Where is the elven man now?” I begin to shake my head, but he cuts me off. “I need him.”
“Why?”
Marcus turns his face toward the ceiling, growling, looking very much like he already hates the words he’s about to say. “Because Evie doesn’t love me—she loves him.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“It doesn’t matter. Do you know where he is?”
Slowly, I nod.
“Arrange a meeting in the forest, about halfway between here and the village. I want to talk to him.”
“You swear you won’t harm him?” I meet his eyes. “You swear as my friend?”
Marcus grunts. “I won’t harm him.”
“Very well. I’ll arrange your meeting.”
* * *
“You told him?” Rune demands, aghast.
“I trust him,” I say simply, taking a step closer to Gavin. But the truth is, I’m not sure my guard is any happier than the elf.
Rune looks like he wants to rant and rave, but he holds his tongue and finally says, “The damage is done—we’ve lost the element of surprise. I suppose meeting with him will do no more harm.”
“Good.” I glance at Gavin, feeling slightly faint. “Because he’s waiting for us.”
Rune snarls under his breath, and then motions for me to lead the way. We walk through the forest in silence until we arrive in a clearing just outside Marcus’s wards.
As promised, the sorcerer stands near a boulder in the middle, arms crossed. He turns as soon as he notices our trio, his scowl deepening when he sees Gavin.
Gavin gives him a mirthless smirk—one that probably doesn’t help the cause. But Marcus has bigger things on his mind, namely the forest elf who’s at my left.
“Sorcerer,” Rune says, his tone less than friendly.
“Elf.”
Uneasy, I look between them and step aside, acknowledging this is their fight.
“I’m here, as you requested,” Rune says. “Talk.”<
br />
Marcus crosses his arms. “Brynn says you found a human to speak your name and send you to the faerie realm.”
“I did.”
“You’ve wandered all this time, looking for Evie?”
Rune’s face hardens when Marcus says the woman’s name. “I have.”
“How did you return here?”
“I convinced a trio of faeries to open a rift and send me back.”
Marcus muses, “Because your magic is gone, and you couldn’t do it yourself.”
Rune doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t seem pleased about his vulnerability.
“I assume that you know from your time there that those who inhabit the faerie realm are…”
“Mad. Unpredictable? Wicked?”
Marcus nods.
“What does that have to do with Eva?” Rune demands.
As if looking for support, Marcus glances at me before he turns back to Rune. “After Evie left me, I went half mad. I looked for her for months, but she hid too well. Late one night, desperate, I worked a summoning spell that I found in my family’s ancient spell book. It was supposed to call a helpful faerie, one who would lend her magic to the wielder of the spell.
“When the woman appeared, I told her what I wanted—to find Evie and make her mine once more. Galetta, the fay witch, told me that if I spirited Evie into the faerie realm, gave her a beautiful castle filled with lovely things, she’d learn to love me. Luck was on my side because Evie is an elf—half faerie, half human—and all I had to do was say her name, and she would leave our human realm.”
I let out a soft breath, but Rune’s expression is a perfectly blank mask.
Marcus continues, “Galetta carved a dozen troll figurines, told me how to use them to control the beasts that would become my small search party. She also gave me a pair of diamond and ruby necklaces and instructed me how to create a tether so I could send Evie where I wanted her to go. She even offered to use her magic to build the castle on the other side.”
“You are a fool,” Rune finally interrupts, his voice hard.
Marcus answers with a hard laugh.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“She tricked me,” Marcus says, looking down. “Everything worked exactly as Galetta promised—the faerie witch built our castle, and I found Evie. When I said Evie’s true name, she was instantly transported to the other side.” He looks back up. “But the witch didn’t mention the curse she placed on Evie’s necklace. That was the catch, the trick.”
The Sorceress in Training: A Retelling of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice Page 17