Real Magic

by Lissa Michaels

  The hard glint in Enola’s eyes made Jelena lose her train of thought. She’d never seen her mentor angry. Never.

  “I expected better of you.”

  “Enola—”

  “You knew he was in danger and yet you left him alone!”

  “You expect me to watch while he—”

  “Do you honestly believe he would have touched that woman with you there?”

  “Other nevashi have.”

  “Knowing you were in the room?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “You looked into his past instead of his heart and found him unworthy of your protection.”

  “That’s not tr—” Jelena’s face heated. She’d done exactly that, more than once, but not this time. She’d been trying to justify the feelings she had for a man who hunted others for his living. “That’s not why I left him alone.”

  “If you’d looked into his heart there would be no reason to question yours.”

  “And if I looked into his heart, would I see a living, caring being? Or a shriveled, dead thing that has seen too much abuse, too many betrayals, caused too many deaths?”

  Enola flinched, then her face grew cold. Golden sparks flared in her dark eyes. “Perhaps you should ask the Oracle for a Judgment.”

  Jelena gasped. “That’s not fair.”

  “Who is to say what is fair?”

  “I’ve been at a disadvantage with this assignment from the very beginning. Why wasn’t I told that he has magic?”

  “No one knew.”

  “You knew.”

  A low gong reverberated in Jelena’s mind. She gasped. A council summons. Her? This late?

  “And now they know. You shouldn’t have brought him here.”

  “I didn’t know where else to take him. I needed someplace safe.”

  “If you care for him even the slightest bit, you will think very carefully about any responses you make to the council. His life may very well depend on you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.” Enola waved her hand and a moment later they stood in the center of the council’s reception chambers. The council was the civilian half of their governmental system. They represented the teachers, the healers, the priests and the various sects of craftsmen.

  The Three Factions, representing the Executioners, Guardians, and Sentinels, were considered the military half since they were charged with protecting the city in times of strife.

  A raised dais rose on the east side of the circular chamber, positioned so that all those called to task in the chamber were forced to look up—physically and emotionally.

  Seven thrones, hewn from a white opalescent stone not native to their planet, sat on the dais. Centuries of use had worn the stone to a smooth, polished sheen.

  Moonlight flooded in from an opening in the domed ceiling, casting everything in its cold white glow. Magic made certain that no matter what the moon’s position in the sky its light illuminated the council.

  They dressed to the best effect the moonlight afforded them. In their snowy white robes, glaring at them from their high perch, the council resembled angry gods—or at least they tried to. Normally, the image amused her. Tonight it didn’t.

  Where were the Three Factions? They usually sat in on council sessions. She should be grateful that she didn’t have to face her master yet, but his absence, their absence, made her uneasy. What was the council doing that they didn’t want the Factions to know?

  All the council members held equal sway, but the man sitting in the center chair, Oran, had been elected their spokesman years ago. Problems within their community were brought to him.

  “Where is Draken?” he asked, his gaze drilling into them.

  “Recovering from an injury,” Enola replied.

  “And from the containment spell’s removal.”

  Enola nodded.

  “You hid him from us well.”

  “I could not let you destroy him because you feared his potential.”

  “Potential for evil.”

  “Potential for greatness.”

  “He’s a half-blood. He cannot control that kind of power, nor can he be allowed to become Udaro. He must be destroyed.”

  “You can’t do that.” Jelena didn’t know what was happening but she couldn’t let them kill him.

  “And why is that? Surely the gods will acknowledge the danger.”

  “The gods have put him under my protection. He is my nevash.” She slid her gaze over their faces. Her declaration didn’t please them. “You can not put him to death without a decree from the gods.”

  “You will step away from this cause.” Oran stood, his short white hair glowing in the moonlight, and glared at her like an avenging spirit.

  Jelena shook her head, her stomach clenching. She’d never had to defy the council before. “I can’t do that. I am duty-bound to protect him with my life, even from you.”

  “Not if you give up the assignment.”

  “I won’t do that. But you were right about one thing, the Udaro are a danger. They want him.”

  “Dead. They want all of us dead.” Pascall, of the temple priests, was the council hothead. Tonight, Enola wasn’t beside him to help him keep his temper in check.

  “No, the Udaro I saw definitely wants him alive.”

  “Why?” Oran asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you suppose that they have discovered his power despite the containment spell and hope to corrupt him?”

  Enola nodded grudgingly. “It is possible.”

  “Reason enough to destroy him now.”

  “No!” Jelena took a deep breath and slowly released it.

  “Better to teach him to control his power, so that he may defend himself against them,” Enola said. “They will have no hold over him, and we will have gained a powerful ally.”

  “You are biased.”

  “Yes,” Enola nodded, “I have faith in his bloodline.”

  “You are certain.”

  “Yes. His future is with us.” She glanced meaningfully at Jelena.

  Jelena looked away. She knew what Enola wanted, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell the council that Drake was her future. She wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a test.

  “Give him to me.”

  Jelena stared at the hooded figure now standing on the Faction’s dais. Master Kedar. Dear Ali’ra! He taught the Nar’gadem, the Executioners. His teachings were ancient, barbaric.

  The council members, too, were stunned to see him. They conversed quickly, silently, urgently, for a few moments. “Very well, Master Kedar, but if he cannot learn to control his power, we will seek the Oracle in the Temple of the Three for Judgment.”

  His shrouded head dipped in acknowledgment then he disappeared.

  The council wouldn’t have to ask for judgment on Drake because he’d never survive! Jelena turned to Enola, hoping she’d protest, but she merely nodded. No, not just a nod, she looked pleased! “Enola—”

  “I have faith in him. So should you.”

  Jelena refused to feel shame for worrying about him. “I would be remiss in my duties if I did not protest this course of action. I brought him here to protect him, not place him in danger.”

  “We have decided!” Oran’s voice thundered in the circular chamber, so loudly that Jelena half-expected to see lightning and rolling storm clouds in the high domed-ceiling.

  “Your theatrics don’t scare me anymore, grandfather.”

  A few council members gasped as he sputtered, his face reddening. He slapped his hands on the arms of his chair and stood, towering over her.

  “Impressive. I nearly forgot that you’re only three fingers taller than I am. You’ve been practicing again, haven’t you?” Her impish smile had gotten her out of trouble before. It did again

  His sapphire eyes sparkled as he gazed at her. “You are too insolent by half.”

  “But you love me anyway.”

  “Yes, I do,” hi
s expression grew serious, “but that will not sway my decision in this. Draken is a dangerous man.”

  “But Grandfather—”

  He held up his hand. “He has until the moon of Acima.”

  “But that’s not enough time for him to learn everything he needs to know.”

  “Pray that it is, for all our sakes.”

  The council members rose as one and disappeared, leaving them alone in the chamber.

  “It’s not enough time.” Jelena’s voice conveyed only a fraction of the anguish twisting inside her as she leaned her head against Enola’s shoulder. Tears tightened her throat.

  Enola stroked Jelena’s hair. “He is very intelligent. I have faith that he will learn to control his magic. Even if he learns only that, they will have no recourse against him.”

  Jelena raised her head. “Why did they call him a half-blood? He’s Bellarissian. Anyone can see that.”

  “Yes, he is Bellarissian, but he is also Miranda’s son.”

  Jelena gasped. “Your—”

  “My grandson.”

  KNOWING HOW light Drake slept, Jelena approached the bed carefully, in case he woke. He didn’t have a weapon close at hand, as he had before, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous.

  He didn’t wake.

  She released a small, relieved sigh then twirled around once, using magic to change into a pale lavender nightslip. She preferred cool, silky sheets against her bare skin but, because of her houseguest, nightwear was more in order.

  She slipped carefully into the bed, lying beside him, and drew the covers over them both. She supposed she could sleep on the couch, but she needed to be near him. Especially now.

  She could just make out his profile in the darkness. His breathing was soft, steady, nearly silent, even in sleep. His nearness, his warmth, his scent were intoxicating. The desire to touch him, to run her palm over his smooth chest was strong, but she resisted. She needed sleep and he wouldn’t appreciate being awakened in that manner. The thought that he might mistake her touch for Zanera’s brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

  Clenching her eyes shut, Jelena forced herself to breathe deeply and concentrate on sleep. She did, but fitfully all night, unable to find comfort even in her dreams. At dawn, she quietly rose from the bed, washed, dressed, and then ported to temple.

  The large building was circular and elaborately decorated with jeweled mosaics on the arched ceiling, depicting the gods in all their glory. In the center of the marble tiled floor stood a ten-foot tall clear crystal, carved in the shape of the Eternal Flame, the symbol of the gods.

  Each temple had an Oracle, but this one was special. This was the main temple for the entire city. One could pray to all the gods, or to a specific deity, depending on her needs. This morning, Jelena didn’t know whom to pray to.

  She needed guidance on so many things. Perhaps here, the answers would come to her. As she knelt on a cushion in front of the crystal, she hoped they would. She raised her gaze to the crystal, hoping to see the flame within, a sign that they heard her prayer.

  Nothing.

  Sighing, Jelena closed her eyes and let the peace of this place drift over her. Drake’s image immediately formed in her mind. His sparkling blue eyes shined brightly.

  Drake, Enola’s grandson.

  All the signs had been there, only she hadn’t seen them. His ability to see past her camouflage spell and illusions. The way he’d taken over her vision spell to find that dark evil-looking place. He was one of them. Just knowing that made her feel closer to him. It shouldn’t, but somehow it did.

  It also made the council’s threat to his life that much more terrifying. She never imagined that her own people were as much of a danger to him, if not more, than Zanera. If she had, she wouldn’t have brought him here.

  She’d never seen the council afraid of anyone before, but they feared him. Ali’ra, he couldn’t learn all that they expected of him before the next moon. Master Kedar would only make it more difficult for him. She had to keep him safe, for his sake and Enola’s.

  She thought about taking him somewhere else, but immediately shoved that thought away. They’d find him. They might even send an Executioner after him. She shuddered.

  Unless… Enola’s containment spell had worked for many years to keep him hidden. Maybe she could find something similar—a charm or amulet that would protect him, something that would shield him from the council notice, or anyone else’s.

  Maybe Mika’s grandmother would have something.

  It was too early to visit their jewelry shop now. Politeness demanded she wait at least until after breakfast. The shop would still be closed, but she knew they’d make an exception for her.

  That decided, Jelena quickly said her prayers of thanks, rose and hurried from the temple. She’d nearly made it to the end of the street when she heard an all-too-familiar male voice call her.

  She turned, and the sight of Cordan hurrying toward her filled her with dread. The feeling worsened each time she saw him.

  “You’ve returned.” He hugged her, seeming not to notice how stiff her body was, or that she didn’t embrace him. “So, it’s finished?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  DRAKE STRETCHED, breathing in deeply. Jelena’s scent filled his head. He opened his eyes, half-expecting to see her sleeping in the chair again. She wasn’t, but the dented pillow and rumpled covers told him she’d slept beside him.

  Too bad she hadn’t woke him. That would have been something.

  Across from him, the curtains on the window pulled back, flooding the room with morning light.

  How did they do that on their own? His eyes widened. They weren’t curtains at all. They were flowered vines, hanging from what looked more like a tree branch than a curtain rod. The beveled, diamond-shaped panes of glass reflected the light all over the room, making it look like a fairyland.

  Or rather, the home of a wood sprite.

  More vines crept across the plaster walls, over the ceiling, and hung from the canopy of the four-posted bed. The posts themselves looked like narrow trees, maybe eight inches thick, stripped of bark and varnished to a glossy sheen. Branches spread from each post until they tangled with each other and formed the canopy frame.

  Drake sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. The plush carpeting was cool beneath his feet, like grass, only it was lavender. As he suspected, the posts were rooted into the floor. The carpeting appeared to have grown around the roots then was neatly clipped like the lawns in the Royal garden on Bellariss.

  He’d never seen anything like this. The craftsmanship was amazing. He reached for a vine and hesitated.

  It wound gently around his hand. Another rose and stroked a soft bloom down his cheek. Its scent, Jelena’s scent, filled his nostrils. Enchanted. Amazing. They withdrew as he stood.

  His leg was stiff and very sore, but it held his weight. He could live with the pain. Better that than being stuck flat on his back in bed—alone. It wouldn’t be bad if Jelena offered to keep him entertained, but he doubted she would. He’d have to work on that.

  He didn’t see his clothes. Did she think hiding them would keep him in bed? He shook his head, but he did remember the way she reacted the last time she’d seen him undressed. He shrugged. If the sight of him embarrassed her, it was her own fault. She should have left his clothes where he’d find them.

  He limped around the large chamber, inspecting every piece of furniture, every cubbyhole—at least, the ones that opened for him. Some didn’t. Probably where she kept her valuables.

  Everything looked as if it grew where it sat, the dresser, the small table and chairs in the corner near the window, the night stands by the bed, and all the flowers and plants. His sprite had created her own little forest.

  As he neared one wall, a doorway opened. He’d found her closet. His black shirt and pants hung neatly among her jewel-colored clothing. His boots were there too, nestled among her shoes. There were fewer than a dozen different o
utfits, and half as many shoes, so his solitary suit of clothes didn’t appear too out of place. He grinned, almost feeling as if he’d been moved in.

  Another wall opened into a bathroom. The fixtures were shaped differently, and he had no idea how they worked, but he thought he recognized a tub, shower, basin and sanitary.

  The sanitary was easy enough to figure out. He’d test the shower next. He couldn’t stand to go more than a day without washing. His sensitive scalp already crawled, but he wanted to see the house first.

  As he wandered around, he became more and more fascinated with the craftsmanship of her furnishings, with the way the different appliances worked, and with so many other things. And this was only her house. The rest of this place had to be amazing.

  He’d definitely like to stay here for a while. He still had to deal with Threaden, he hadn’t forgotten that, but he had time. Zanera wanted him for something, and because she knew he wanted Threaden, she’d keep him close. Let them search for him.

  He could explore this magical place. And he’d have the time he needed to figure out what was going on between Jelena and him. It wasn’t just about sex, not anymore.

  Where was she anyway? It surprised him that she’d left him alone in the house. Maybe she hadn’t expected him to wake yet. Maybe she didn’t think she had to be with him every second on her own world.

  His wandering brought him into the living room. This room had an actual wood door, carved with detailed symbols and more flowers. More of those symbols dangled at the bottom of a strange wind chime hanging from the ceiling between the window and door.

  As he walked to the window, he heard voices. One Jelena’s, and one distinctly male. His gaze locked on Jelena. Lavender appeared to be the color of the day. As for the man, he recognized that scrawny, nearly bald—

  Drake jerked away from the window and strode into the bedroom. She could entertain whoever the hell she wanted. He was taking a shower.

  When he stepped into the stall, it sealed behind him, forming a reflective glass wall that let the light filter in, yet also let him see his reflection.

  Water dripped from above then fell progressively heavier, until it was a downpour. Sighing, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth soak into his skin and soothe away the aches he’d ignored.