by Eden Reign
“None taken,” Jackson said. “Calling me different from Henry Coal is high praise in my book. Might I have a word with you, Miss Rivers?”
Mr. Flacks touched his hat and walked down the hill toward a neighboring field where croppers bent over indigo rows in the pearlescent early morning, leaving Manda trembling in Jackson’s shadow.
“Come,” he said quietly. “Walk with me.”
Manda slid her quaking hand through the arm he offered her, astonished by his solicitude. The silence stretched, but it was unexpectedly soothing. Indigo fronds shivered in the wind. The breeze blew across the expanse of grass that stretched before the plantation house, tossing Manda’s curls as the two of them wandered around the house toward the western woods and gardens.
Jackson finally cleared his throat and said, “Manda. Miss Rivers. There’s—”
“I know I should have told you!” she blurted. “I wish I could make you understand why I did not.” She stopped and pulled her arm free of his, covering her face with both hands. “I have always hidden everything that I was, that I am. I’ve hidden for so long, the hiding has become part of me. My secret is so—so all-encompassing that I don’t know how to live but beneath the shadow of my own deception.” She slowly lowered her hands, her fingers desperately wrangling the material of her peplum. “My omission of the truth has always protected me. Do you see?”
Silence wavered between them. Tears stung Manda’s eyes.
At last, Jackson pulled her close, tilting up her chin. “I do see. I do not chastise you, Manda. What else could you have done?”
She blinked rapidly and brushed away her tears with her free hand.
“Manda, I have—I have a secret, too.”
Manda drew back. She studied his face; it was both vulnerable and tense beneath the early morning shadows of the tall oaks and magnolias. “But you’re not a halfmage,” she said. “I have felt your magic, you’re not.”
Jackson smiled wryly. “There are other varieties of secrets, my dear.”
Manda swallowed hard. “You know my secret; perhaps it is only right that I know yours.” Manda cast her gaze to the ground, studying Jackson’s boots. It was too difficult to look at his face when he was so raw and vulnerable.
“I think it is something that I must show you,” he said. “Come.” He took her hand in his and pulled her farther among the trees, away from the fields, into a clearing amid towering oaks not far from Mirror Lake.
Jackson faced her in the clearing. Hanging moss waved softly all around them, like dancing spirits. “Manda,” he said, hesitating, “I must … I must remove my shirt.”
Manda swallowed hard as he slid his coat from his shoulders. He reached for his shirt buttons and unfastened them, his dark gaze never leaving her face. He pulled open the front of his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest.
“What—” Manda fell silent as thin black tendrils unfurled beneath his ribs, slowly spreading as a snakelike mark wound onto the ridged plane of his abdomen. As it moved, it twisted malevolently.
“Merciful Rivers,” Manda whispered, transfixed by the moving mark. “It’s another magemark. Much larger. Much more intricate. Much more entrenched. And it … moves. Oh, Jackson! It’s a full-blown Roving Magemark. It’s starting to glow.”
Manda stepped forward to trace her fingers over the mark. “Does it hurt?” she asked, glancing at his face.
His dark eyes lit with emotion. “No. At least, only occasionally.” He began to redo the buttons, but stopped when Manda slipped her hand to his bare chest, following the path of the magemark. His gaze riveted to her palm.
She shifted even closer to him. “How did you get such a curse, Jackson?”
“In the war,” he said. “During my final mission.”
“From a Nanu?” Manda asked in confusion.
“No. From someone who knew Nanu secrets, though.”
Manda shuddered.
Jackson released the edge of his shirt and circled Manda’s wrist with his good hand. “I understand about secrets, Manda. I would never hold yours against you.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes again. The magemark that coiled and writhed beneath her palm was the worst she’d ever seen, worse than the ones on her mother’s body, worse than the one she’d healed so quickly on Grey. This one was full of hate. She could nearly feel the malevolence emanating outward like heat from a sun-baked stone.
“My father did this.” Jackson’s hand tightened around her wrist, peeling her palm away from his skin. “My father, Henry Coal, member of the Brotherhood Council and Daniel Lake’s Committee on Blood Purity. I’m the cursed son of a fullmage who hated the world in general and me in particular; he marked me with the final embers of his spite in his dying moments. And you, Manda Rivers, are the only other living, breathing being who knows it.”
Manda shook her head, her tears spilling over. “Oh, Jackson, your father made that terrible mark?” She gently pulled him against her. “How could he do such a thing to his own son? And how did he know how to make a Nanu magemark?” she murmured as Jackson’s arms tightened around her, seeking comfort.
“He was always looking for ways to enhance his power. Apparently he and Wilcott Blazen—and perhaps others—had a secret research program during the war, looking into Nanu magemarks. They even invented new varieties, as we saw from Leah’s despicable behavior.”
Oak boughs creaked around them as they held each other. Finally, Jackson pulled back, righting and buttoning his shirt. As he finished, his hands fell to his sides. “Manda, I love you.”
For one glorious instant, Manda’s heart winged to the heavens, lighter than the sky.
“I want to marry you.”
Manda gasped, and her heart crashed back to earth. “You—want to marry me?”
“Yes,” Jackson murmured. “Is that so hard to believe? I love you. I want to be with you. In every way. Merciful Rivers, Manda, when you are away from me, I feel I’m drowning.”
She didn’t answer for a long moment as her tight throat cut off her words. Then she said, “We can’t, Jackson. You know we can’t.”
The words, simple as they were, sliced like a sword into her own ribcage. Jackson stepped backward, as though he felt their killing force, too.
“Because you are what you are, and I am what I am,” Jackson said dully. “Because we live in a world of prejudice enforced by politics. It’s impossible. That’s what you’re saying.”
“You know it is so, Jackson. Fullmage and halfmage relations are forbidden and illegal. We can’t marry, not legally, not in the eyes of the government. We’d have to live in hiding. You’d have to give up too much. Grey, Coalhaven, your position in the world that allows you to help these croppers. You cannot.”
Jackson’s shoulders slumped into a posture of defeat. “I am to have nothing then. No solace, no comfort, no love.” He covered his face with his hands. “Broken and marked and cursed,” he muttered, almost too softly for Manda to hear. “All is as you hoped, Father. You won.”
Manda swallowed a sob. She could not allow him to despair. “Let me at least try to remove that mark, Jackson,” she begged. “Let me help you.”
He dropped his hands. A single tear coursed over the v-scar beneath his eye. “Can you, Manda? Can you remove it?”
“I don’t know. It’s stronger, and different from Leah’s, a real Roving Mark, the kind the Nanuren, the Nanu fire tribe, make. I fear it may not be possible, but I have to try.”
Manda threaded her fingers through Jackson’s as she led him along the meandering waterway that cut through the oaks and magnolias. The Mirror Lake licked lazily along the reedy shore, and Manda approached its perimeter, blushing at her memories of watching Jackson bathe.
She stopped, a shiver running through her that had little to do with the early morning’s cool temperatures. She faced Jackson and withdrew her hand, tucking it into the folds of her skirt to hide its trembling.
“You had—had better remove your shirt,” Mand
a murmured. “I’ll have to—touch the mark as it roves. I need to hold it in my power.”
Jackson’s brows lifted; humor sparked in his brown eyes. “I had not anticipated enjoying this.” His fingers released his buttons, once again baring his chest. He stripped off the shirt entirely.
“Have a seat,” Manda added, indicating a spot of springy moss and bracken near the water.
“My father would burn in his grave; his last mark was never supposed to bring me anything but suffering.” Jackson sank down, his arms circling his knees, a grin turning his lips. He beckoned her with a finger. “Come to me, Manda.”
Manda could not share his elation; fear of failure already etched her mind. “Don’t speak too soon, Jackson Coal. This could be truly painful. And—it may not work.”
“If you are with me, Manda, I can endure any pain. Do it.”
Manda took a calming breath and dunked her hands into the water, pulling the element into her skin. She gathered the life of the water, filling herself to her core, soaking in the living, watery heart of Coalhaven.
She closed her eyes, sending her mind back to her youth outside of Sweetwater near the Crossroads into the Nanu Territory where Bitter Root had lived.
Unmade mages draw source from earth, sky, ocean, and sun, Bitter Root had said. You touch power here, she thumped her chest, and here, she spread her fingers. You draw it up through soles of feet. It inside your flesh, you understand, girl? Not power of the mind, like made mages. You have power of the body. You feel.
Manda leaned Jackson back against the tree, spread her dripping palms on Jackson’s chest, the water droplets shivering on her skin. The mark writhed like a trapped animal beneath her fingers.
Jackson exhaled and closed his eyes, but tension coursed through his abdomen in a muscular ripple.
Feel, Manda coached herself. Feel what is inside the mark. Feel the layer of the flesh, the blood, the water inside every cell. Feel where it has gone wrong in the mark. She stretched her hands wider until they covered most of the black mark twisting over Jackson’s skin.
She kept trying, her hands moving over Jackson’s chest, his shoulders, his sides. She tried to ignore the hope that flickered and faded on his face as she failed again and again. The magemark slithered away every time she closed in on it.
Desperately, she knelt next to Jackson, seeking, searching, failing.
Jackson groaned and grasped handfuls of moss into his fists, tilting his head back against the rough bark as he grimaced.
As if he were in the same pain as she. Manda’s hands burned as though they’d been shoved into a fire and held there as a torture. She feared if she continued, she’d combust—and perhaps Jackson would, too.
Her bottom lip bled; she must have bitten it. Finally, she pushed away, sobbing. She collapsed on her back beside him, letting her cool tears soothe her flushed face.
“It didn’t work,” she said.
Jackson slid an arm tenderly around her waist, tucking her head into his bare shoulder.
“It’s all right, love,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”
“But—how we will get rid of it?” cried Manda, wrapping her arms around him.
“Hush, my sweet Manda. I’ll find a way. I’ve been researching. The Blazens—”
“You are not to let those vile people know about that mark!” Manda exclaimed. “It could be controlled—perhaps by another firemage, like the new marks the Blazens invented, like the one Leah put on you. She controlled your mind, Jackson. And that mark made by your father—it had a life of its own. It could fight me and anticipate me. It had ... a mind. And I could not touch it.”
“Of course it had a mind,” Jackson said. “The fullmage power ultimately comes from the mind, Manda. It was fullmage spell; it held the shade of my father’s mind within it. It is no wonder, you, a halfmage could not touch the mark.”
Manda shuddered. The mind lurking in the mark had taken pleasure in her pain. “I was able to remove the other marks though.”
“They were two different things, as you yourself have said. Leah’s mark was a new type of mark, the result of the secret research conducted with my father. As I understand it, all magemark spells contain two layers: that of the mind, the fullmage layer, what firemages call the spell ember, and that of the body, a fleshly layer. In the original Nanu spellwork, the ember is housed inside the target’s body. But the Blazens must have found a way to separate it from the flesh. Leah put the spell ember into firehearts, so they were easily destroyed by destroying the hearts. The only parts that remained when you went to heal them were the flesh layers—that, you, as a halfmage, can touch and treat.”
“I see,” Manda said. “And so your father’s spell ember has not yet been destroyed.” She rose up on her knees in excitement. “But that’s it, Jackson! We have to find the ember and destroy it, and then I’ll be able to remove the mark!”
Jackson shook his head sadly. “I fear it is not so simple, my love. Your attempt shows that my father’s curse is like any normal Roving Mark. The ember is housed inside my own body, impossible to remove.” He tucked a curl behind Manda’s ear. “No more tears now,” he murmured. “I hate to see you cry.” But Manda could feel the heaviness in his arms as he pulled her close, as he, too, understood that the mark was truly incurable.
Manda suppressed her tears, though the grim finality nearly tore her heart in two. They would never be able to cure the mark. Never. Jackson would have to live with it forever. She simply stared at him.
“What’s that?” Jackson asked, pointing at her chest.
A corner of paper stuck out from the top of her bodice; she had put it there that morning before she’d left the servants’ quarters, hoping to give it to Jackson at some point, but then she’d forgotten about it. She blinked in surprise, pulling out the note Daniel Lake had given her for Jackson what seemed like years ago.
She held it out toward him, the paper shaking.
“What is it?” Jackson asked again.
“While you were away at Blazenfields, Daniel Lake came. He left that for you. You should know, he has your father’s pocket watch, the one I left at the beach.”
Jackson cursed. “I suspected as much. Daniel Lake came here! Manda—Sacred Wells, he’s the head of the Committee on Blood Purity! If he learned you were a halfmage, he’d have you locked up, or worse!”
“Yes, I know. But I had little choice. He caught me quite by accident, though I tried to avoid him. I posed as—” she flushed, “—your new mistress, a Miss Melanie Rivers, for lack of a better story.” Manda’s cheeks grew hot.
“Blazing Fires,” he muttered, unfolding the letter, his face tightening as he understood its import. “Did you read this?” he demanded.
Manda hesitated, searching his face. “Yes. I’m sorry, but I feared what he might have written, and I felt it best if I knew. Jackson, what does it mean?”
“It means I must act quickly, to protect Grey, and you. Sacred Wells, I have much to atone for, and my treatment of you and Grey has been irresponsible, at best.” He lifted the paper and set it aflame, letting it burn down to his fingers before he released it. “Manda, you and Grey are in danger. You have to leave.”
Manda’s stomach dropped as though she were free-falling from the treetops. “I—but the Blazens left. You drove them out!”
“They left with the knowledge that there is a halfmage child here. It wouldn’t take them long to discover that you’re a halfmage yourself, if they tried. They will go directly to Daniel Lake for support.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “They’ll return with reinforcements, and they’ll be prepared with an army of lawyers, magistrates, and fullmages to take Grey away from me. Manda, you and Grey have to go.”
Manda squeezed Jackson’s hands. “No.” She shook her head. and tried to swallow past her thick throat, but she couldn’t. Her future looked like a wasteland. “No, Jackson, I won’t go. You need help to protect Coalhaven; I can give it. I can be here for you.”
Jack
son shook his head. “Think, Manda, what they would do to you. It wouldn’t be a polite set-down. You would be arrested, imprisoned, possibly even sentenced to death. The High Families aren’t tolerant, Manda; they go for blood.”
Manda tentatively trailed her fingers down the firm planes of his chest, and Jackson visibly shivered. The magemark flashed across his shoulder, stilling on his upper arm, its head curved over his skin, almost as though it watched her. She eyed it, hatred for its fiery, evil presence boiling inside of her. “I won’t, Jackson. You need me here. What about your magemark? If they find it, they could blackmail you just as Daniel Lake threatens to do. If he knows that you wear the mark of your father, others will recognize it, too. If what Daniel hinted at in his letter is true—that you were involved in the attack on the Chalton Headquarters and your father’s death—they will know it. And what about the Blazens? What will they do to you? You need allies.” More tears flowed now, but Manda couldn’t make them stop. She hated to leave him; she hated every thought without him in it.
Jackson slid closer to her, his arms circling her, pressing her head to his chest. He smelled of pine, grass, and woodsmoke. She wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him tightly as he smoothed her hair.
“Manda,” he said at last, when she had pushed away and accepted his handkerchief, hastily unfolded from his discarded jacket, to wipe her swollen eyes, “Manda, I love you, and I love Grey, and I can’t keep you both here where I know that you’re in danger. Your safety is more important than anything. And you cannot be safe here, not now that the Blazens know about Grey.”
“And your magemark?” Manda asked, sniffling. “What about that?” Jackson flinched, but Manda went on. She had to get out her thoughts. “What if someone sees your father’s magemark?”
Jackson shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do about my magemark. You aren’t able to heal it, the Blazens—whom I originally sought out for help to get rid of it—won’t and likely cannot assist me. Protecting you and Grey is more important, anyway. You have to go. Think of Grey, at least, if you won’t think of yourself.”