Cherished

by Christina Bauer

  I set my fists on my hips. “I wanted to hear what he has to say.” I turned to Kade. “Go on.”

  Kade simply stared forward without saying a word.

  The energy in the room had turned downright hostile. I wouldn’t learn anything more tonight. And I couldn’t stand the thought of victims of the Changed Ones waiting around on my account. “I’ll take my leave now.”

  Rowan took my hand. His touch sent shivers through me. “Don’t forget your promise.”

  “I won’t.”

  It took a force of will step away from Rowan and begin the incantation to transport back to my farm. I couldn’t shake the sense of dread that weighed down my bones. I’d seen my share of disasters.

  And this situation with Shujaa? It had catastrophe written all over it.

  Chapter Four

  My little wagon lumbered along the dirt road. The setting sun cast a pinkish glow atop Smokey’s mane and around his twitching ears. I sighed. The last time I drove my wagon, I was taking the Dunkel sisters to the village. For this trip, I was alone. Things wouldn’t stay that way for long, however. I was headed for the Dunkels’ faire.

  A ball of dread weighed down my stomach. If I thought making small talk with two girls was rough, I was about to meet virtually every soul in the shire.

  Damn that Philippe, always forcing me to be social.

  It was only four days ago that I took the Dunkel sisters to town. Since then, I’d minded my farm and cast not a single spell. I felt rather proud of that. It was the true way to honor my parents and their legacy.

  A press of magick swept over my skin, making my arms prickle into gooseflesh. All my senses went on alert. Had Wren returned? Almost a week had passed since my encounter with the Changed One. There had been no further sightings or incidents.

  Still, I pulled on the reins. Smokey stopped. I scanned the darkened fields. Was Shujaa following me? Excitement tingled across my skin. I raised my left arm, ready to cast a spell.

  One second passed.

  Two.

  Three.

  Nothing happened.

  The awareness of magick disappeared. I forced my hand down. Another false alarm. That made the third one today. I was sensing Shujaa around every corner. Sure, I’d promised to transport away at the first sign of danger, but “first sign” was a relative term.

  I could easily squeeze in a quick mage battle before leaving. My eyes turned misty. How wonderful to get into another mage battle, and perhaps even a serious one this time? Fighting Wren had been far too easy.

  A chill of realization prickled across my skin. It was time to be honest with myself. There was no mistaking the pulse of excitement that now moved through my veins. I let out a long breath. Fine. I was woman enough to admit that I was having trouble adjusting to farm life…And honoring my parents. Had it only been two months since I’d sent Viktor into exile? It felt like a year had slogged by.

  It felt like even longer since I’d last seen Rowan. Confronting him did nothing to ease the constant ache in my chest from missing him.

  I shook my head. There was no point thinking about Rowan. He was engaged to someone else and that was the end to it. And as for Shujaa, I was starting to doubt that a fight was coming. Powerful mages could transport anywhere they wanted at will. Chances were, if Shujaa wanted to attack me, he’d have done so already.

  Long story short, I needed to stop looking for magick and focus on my new life. Sure, it was hard not to cast spells right now. But I’d eventually adjust to farm life. Enemy attacks and heartbreak would become distant memories.

  That said, I needed to be patient. It was only a matter of time until I fully became a farm girl again.

  Night fell as Smokey and I crossed the empty countryside. At last, my wagon approached a rolling hill covered in tents, tables, and hanging lanterns. About a hundred people meandered across the green. Voices and laughter echoed out into the night. The full moon cast everything in blue shadows.

  Philippe waited for me at the base of the hill, just as we’d agreed. He was leaning against a large oak tree, looking handsome and suave in his gray velvet longcoat and silk breeches. His tall leather boots gleamed in the dimness. I slowed my wagon beside him.

  “Good evening, Philippe.”

  He stepped forward and bowed slightly at the waist. The man had excellent manners. “Good evening, my Lady. I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t join me.”

  “I promised that I could come.”

  Philippe hoisted himself onto the driver’s bench beside me. Like always, he was handsome in a roguish way with his fair hair and a gleaming smile. The man reminded me of a blond pirate. He winked. “You usually make good on your word.”

  I lifted my brows. “Usually?”

  “Always.” His grin widened. “Eventually.”

  “You know, it could be a mark on my reputation to be seen driving with you alone.”

  “Please.” Philippe rolled his eyes. “We’re within spitting distance of half the village. That means your reputation is quite safe.” He gave me a sly look. “It’s not like you’re talking about visiting me in my rooms at the tavern.”

  My eyes widened. “Who told you about that?” I hadn’t seen Philippe since my visit to the village with the Dunkel sisters.

  Philippe chuckled. “Oh, everyone.”

  “Lizzie and Gail must have gone gossiping after I drove them into town. I’ll cast a spell to give them extra foreheads. That will teach them.”

  “Please. Don’t go casting odd spells on my account. Personally, I thought the story was rather hilarious. Now, urge on your racehorse to the stables, or we’ll never get to the faire.”

  I flicked the reins gently and Smokey took off. Even though the stables were large, the place was already half-full with wagons and horses. Folks wandered about, getting their mounts settled before heading off to the faire. I stowed the wagon outside, so I now unharnessed Smokey and brought him into one of the clean stalls. The Dunkels were known for taking good care of their animals.

  Once everything was in place, Philippe approached me and offered his arm. “Are you quite ready?”

  I nodded. “You’ll notice that I took your fashion advice this time.” I gestured across the yellow monstrosity that was my gown. “Bright colors. Although I must admit, I feel a bit awkward.”

  When I was a Necromancer, I always wore our traditional black robes. Before that, I lived on a farm where I donned peasant dresses. These days, I had my choice of fancy gowns, thanks to Philippe and his questionable relationship with the seamstress in the village. This yellow dress was one of my less ornate options. Still, it felt incredibly bawdy. I pulled at the high neckline.

  “Stop fidgeting,” said Philippe. “You look lovely.”

  “I feel like a banana.”

  “Have you ever seen a banana?”

  “I’ve read about them. The Zelle Cloister has quite a library.” I pulled at my neckline again.

  Philippe exhaled a dramatic sigh. “In order to stop your ceaseless fidgeting, I suppose I must compliment you yet again.” He stopped and grasped my shoulders, forcing me to face him. His palms were warm and soft against my upper arms. His gaze locked with mine. “You are so beautiful, Elea, it hurts sometimes to look at you.”

  Philippe’s face was so sincere that I felt a weight of guilt in my bones. Why couldn’t I care about him? “Thank you.”

  The side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Although, truth be told, the dressmaker did select an atrocious color for this frock.”

  I couldn’t help but grin back. “Ha! I knew she was making me ugly gowns as an excuse to flirt with you.”

  Philippe smirked. “Why, are you jealous?”

  “No, merely wishing I wore black.”

  At those words, Philippe’s eyes lost some of their light. I knew that he’d been hoping something more would develop between us. Over the last few months, I’d done my best to keep an open mind, but I still hadn’t felt anything more than friendship t
oward him.

  Sadly, my heart was set on Rowan, and it was a very stubborn organ.

  If my comment had upset Philippe, he recovered quickly. His sneaky smile returned in a flash. “It may be atrocious, but I still like yellow far better than black. As I’ve said a dozen times, you’ll blend in more if you look cheery and appropriate. When you wear black, you resemble a matron of death.”

  “I am a matron of death.”

  “But you’ve sworn off magick.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Philippe lifted his brows. “Anything you care to share?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Excellent. You’re far too intense for your own good.” Philippe turned toward the crowd and set my hand on his elbow. “Let’s move on. There’s no point in revisiting this verbal battle since I have already won it.”

  “There was a verbal battle?”

  “On whether or not you look lovely. You do, I won, and now we’re moving on.” Philippe’s pale blue eyes twinkled in the moonlight. He really was an adorable rogue. Why couldn’t I have feelings for him?

  I shook my head. “You do realize that you’ve this way of tricking me into doing things. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  “Good. Now join the faire with me, like a good little matron of death.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle, and together we left the barn and headed toward the maze of tables lining the hillside. There were folks selling wax candles, linen tunics, wooden spoons, and leather boots. The scent of roasting meat filled the air.

  Philippe and I made a slow stroll through the different tables. We weren’t a yard from the first vendor when a ripple of excitement moved through the crowd. I’d seen this happen before. In the past, it had always been because the village sheriff or town mayor had shown up. Now, it was all about Philippe.

  Within seconds, we were surrounded by a cluster of young girls. It was hard to tell them apart, what with their carefully combed hair, spotless gowns, and eager faces. They began a high-pitched chorus of greetings.

  “Philippe, so nice to see you.”

  “Fine weather we’re having.”

  “Would you like to try my apple tarts?”

  “Come this way. I’d like you meet my mum.”

  Philippe sighed dramatically once again. It was a move he used to excess, but these young ladies never seemed to mind. “I’m sorry, my sweets. Elea has made me promise to devote all my attention to her this evening. She’s a rather jealous creature. I’m sure you understand.”

  The girls all glared at me as if I’d invented the plague. The fact that I was a Necromancer didn’t help matters, either. Even so, Philippe’s gentlest request was as good as a compulsion spell. The young ladies all curtsied and marched off into the night. We resumed our slow stroll.

  “Have you spotted the Dunkel girls?” I asked.

  Philippe winked. “I’m not sharing your company so quickly. I had to ride in all the way from the village to secure merely a few small hours in your presence.”

  “You’re the one who’s been off trying to find messengers.” I scanned his face carefully. Philippe loved his sister deeply. She’d written him daily, but the messages had recently stopped. I knew it was bothering him. “Did you get any word from Amelia?” I wished my voice didn’t have the acidic edge of jealousy.

  “Last I heard, Veronique was still with her.” The way he said Veronique’s name, it was clear why he hadn’t run off to Amelia the moment her letters stopped.

  “Perhaps you should visit her.”

  “We’re not speaking of Amelia right now. We’re walking around the tables.”

  I grinned. “You’re a horrible taskmaster, you know.”

  “Of course.”

  A prickly sensation ran up my back. Once again, I felt the sensation of hot embers of magick burning into my skin. It was a spell to detect a magick user, just like the one Wren had cast before.

  Had Wren returned? Or better, had Shujaa arrived at last?

  I pretended to inspect a table of painted eggs. How many times had I imagined Shujaa attacking this week? Too many.

  Thoughts of mystery mages aren’t going to ruin my evening.

  I lifted a particularly pretty egg from the tabletop. The artist had poked a hole in the bottom to drain out the insides and painted a lovely farm scene on the exterior. I turned the dainty object over in my hands. Now, this is real and beautiful. Farm life, where the most magickal thing was the power of what you could make with your hands.

  I was about to set the egg down when a low voice sounded in my ear. “Good evening, Elea. I’m Shujaa.”

  I glanced about, frantic to see who was speaking. No one was there. Was the mage invisible? The sensation of burning embers became stronger than ever before. My head turned woozy. Perhaps the mage wasn’t invisible as much as wielding a potent spell to cause disorientation. But that kind of magick was rare. Only Senior Caster could hope to wield it.

  Perhaps Wren had been telling the truth. Shujaa wanted my crown, such as it was, and he was willing to do anything to get it. That meant a fight was coming.

  I gently reset the painted egg onto the tabletop. There were far more interesting things to focus on. I was about to cast again. Huzzah!

  Chapter Five

  The woozy feeling grew more intense. The nearby lanterns and torches seemed to blur into the night sky. It felt as if the ground were rolling beneath me in great waves. Raised voices overlapped one another in strange ways.

  It took a force of will, but I focused on where I’d heard the man calling himself Shujaa. I needed to lessen the effected of his disorientation spell, and that meant putting some distance between us. I couldn’t fight if I couldn’t think straight. It took all my focus, but I was able to make my legs move in the opposite direction. The scene around me quickly became normal once again.

  Partly.

  Yes, there were still tables all around. The lanterns and torches appeared normal once more. But my neighbors were all staring at the extremely large warrior who’d entered our faire. Shujaa was well over six feet tall and wearing some kind of metallic armor that gleamed purple in the firelight. A matching metal helm covered his face.

  Not a good development. A purple hue meant hybrid magick. If I had to bet, I’d say that was enchanted armor from Viktor. And more than that, the armor was most likely the totem that Wren had spoken about. A totem of that size would be able to store an enormous amount of magick.

  Wren stood at Shujaa’s side. His great bulk made her look even smaller. I wasn’t fooled, though. You didn’t wear that much armor without a good reason. Viktor forced his Changed Ones to trade all their magick for one concentrated set of spells. For Wren, it was her power over wasps. For Shujaa, I’m guessing it was his proximity spell that disoriented anyone who got too close. Why would Viktor have done that? It was a question I set side to ponder later on.

  A chorus of worried voices sounded from the crowd. No one was moving, really. It reminded me of whenever someone’s cart got stuck in a gulley. Folks came around, watched, and made comments. Few offered to help. In this case, everyone was somewhat concerned about the strange warrior and odd-looking woman. But no one was alarmed. Not yet. After all, it was a faire, and sometimes odd folks stopped by.

  Then Wren raised her right arm, which was a sure sign she was pulling Caster power into her body. Sure enough, the veins in her arm glowed with bright crimson light.

  The crowd gasped.

  Wren and Shujaa glared.

  I did what any self-respecting Necromancer would do, especially one who didn’t want to cast a spell in front of her neighbors. I took in a deep breath and screamed at the top of my lings. “Run for your lives!”

  My words snapped my neighbors out of their reverie. Some folks started to run. Others began packing up their tables.

  Philippe stole up beside me. “What’s going on?” He eyed Wren’s lit-up arm. “Forget it. I understand. I’ll help evacuate the locals.”

  “
And stay away from the tall guy. He has some kid of permanent spell on him that muddles your senses.” I began pulling Necromancer energy into my body, but didn’t focus it into my arm. I really was trying to keep with Philippe’s Elea Stops Frightening the Locals plan. But having that much power twisting through my body made my bones vibrate and organs ache. I called to Philippe. “But be quick about it, if you please.”

  “I will.” Philippe stepped away, paused, and then came back. “Only, promise me you won’t kill anyone or cast any decent spells until return. You know how I love to watch you work.”

  “Philippe.” This time, I had to speak through gritted teeth. Philippe got the idea quickly enough and ran off.

  Wren began mumbling under her breath. Red smoke appeared around her palm. The crimson haze quickly expanded until it encircled her body. When the cloud vanished, Wren had transformed herself into a massive red wasp. If a tiny bite from one of her insects could put someone to sleep, then I had a pretty good idea what her larger self could do: kill me.

  Philippe had worked quickly, but he hadn’t gotten everyone out of viewing range. Still, I couldn’t risk waiting any longer. I focused the power of my magick into my left arm. The bones of my hand glowed bright blue. A sphere of sapphire-colored mist appeared above my palm. It was time to speak my incantation.

  “Fast as wind

  Sharp as a knife

  Bring me skull seekers

  Protect my life”

  Skull seekers combined the worst of a hungry ghost and a whipping comet. They were speedy, and their teeth could bite through almost anything. My blue sphere split into four separate orbs of light, mist, and power. After that, they congealed into what looked like long comets of blue light, only with skulls at their centers. A long tail of sapphire-colored mist trailed behind them.

  Wasp-Wren took to the air, her huge wings buzzing so loudly it was an effort not to cover my ears. My skull seekers whipped around me like planets around a sun. I pointed out different seekers as I spoke. “You two, attack the wasp. The others, go after the warrior. Now!”