Deceived by Magic (The Baine Chronicles Book 6)

by Jasmine Walt

  “Of course.” Iannis squeezed my hand, understanding in his eyes. “I will come find you as soon as I am done here.”

  I bid Haman a good evening, then slipped through the crowd, away from his too-curious gaze. My skin prickled, and I didn’t relax until I’d made my way into a secluded corner of the room. I snagged a glass of water and a small plate of refreshments, then made myself comfortable on one of the small couches in the corner and ate. The food, plus the lack of stares my way, finally calmed me down, and I settled back against the cushions, content to wait here in relative privacy.

  “Miss Baine.” I nearly dropped my glass at the sound of a female, Castalian-accented voice to my left. Schooling my expression, I turned to see Isana standing a few feet away, a hesitant smile on her face. “I hoped I might run into you here.”

  “Miss ar’Rhea.” Reluctantly, I stood to greet her, and offered her my hand. “I received your letter not very long ago.”

  “Oh, good. I was wondering if it had made its way to you before you embarked on your journey to Garai.” Isana shook my hand, then settled onto the couch next to me. She wore beautiful green robes embroidered with pink-and-gold flowers. They flattered her curvy figure, which resembled my own, though not quite as fleshed out yet as she was still a teenager. “Have you given much thought to what I wrote?”

  “No,” I lied, thankful that she did not have my shifter nose. “I’m afraid I can’t figure out how we might be related. I didn’t know my father very well, but I am almost certain he was Northian.”

  “I see,” Isana said with a smile, but I could tell that she didn’t really believe me. “It is curious though, that the resemblance between us is so strong.”

  “Yes, well, we could share a very distant ancestor,” I suggested, doing my best to play it off even though I was well aware of how much we looked alike. “After all, we all share common ancestors from hundreds of thousands of years back, don’t we?”

  “That’s true,” Isana said dubiously. Nope, she definitely didn’t believe me, and the mixture of curiosity and fear I scented from her left me with a bad feeling. Would she tell her father about her suspicions? Had she done so already? Disappointment surged in my chest, and I fought to keep the emotion from showing on my features. From her letter, Isana had sounded like a sister I might enjoy knowing, but now that we’d met, I wasn’t so certain of that anymore. I couldn’t trust her—that was for damn sure.

  “Sunaya.” Iannis materialized out of nowhere at my elbow. He offered his arm to me, and then nodded politely at Isana. “I am sorry to interrupt, but it is time we left. We have had a very long journey.”

  “Of course.” Isana rose. “Good night, Lord Iannis, Miss Baine. I do hope we can speak more tomorrow, at the funeral.”

  “That was fucking close,” I said as Iannis whisked me out of the hall and into the night. I took in a deep lungful of the cool night air, grateful for it—I was far too overheated after being in that crush of a reception, and not to mention that tension-filled conversation with Isana.

  “Indeed,” Iannis agreed, and a guard escorted us back to our pavilion. We remained silent until we were back inside, the doors closed firmly behind us. “But I would not worry too much. Though Haman seemed curious about you, I did not sense any ill will toward you. If he does suspect, I do not believe that he will be eager to out your relationship. He is no fool, and he stands to lose more than he would gain from such a revelation.” He headed toward his bedroom, and I followed.

  “I guess so,” I said, shoving a hand through my hair. My curls tumbled free, and the gold chain slid to the carpet. “But Isana definitely suspects. What if she makes a big deal about it?” Nervous again, I began pacing back and forth in front of the bed.

  “Hush now.” Iannis securely locked the door to his room, then snagged me by the sash around my waist and pulled me into his arms. “We will deal with Isana when the time comes. For now…” His eyes darkened, his voice turning sensual, and he slid his hands slowly down my sides. “I suggest we focus on a different topic.”

  “That’s a little difficult, considering that I can’t think about anything else,” I said, but my breath caught as he tugged off my sash, and my robes began to slide open.

  “Oh, I believe we’ll be able to solve that problem shortly,” Iannis said, cupping the back of my head. He pulled my mouth against his, and all thoughts flew straight out of my head as his tongue slid inside to stroke mine. My own hands tugged at his clothes, and desire surged through me as my fingers met bare skin and hard muscle. When he carried me to the bed, our lips still locked and our clothes in a forgotten puddle on the hardwood floor, I knew that by the time he was done with me tonight, I would be too exhausted and satisfied to worry about anything at all.

  14

  I meant to sleep in, but my rumbling stomach woke me just as the sun was cresting the horizon outside our window. I rolled over to see the early dawn rays cast a glow over Iannis’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, with his long, dark lashes fanning against his sharp cheekbones, and his stern mouth unbowed and slightly open. I ran my fingers gently through his long, rumpled hair, and he rumbled a little, then turned into my touch like a big lion seeking a good rub behind the ears.

  Part of me wanted to stay there and snuggle with him, but hunger won out. Guess that was what I got for going without a midnight snack, especially after sex. Careful not to wake him, I slipped out of bed and dressed in my normal clothes, then slid the lacquered door open as quietly as I could and stepped out onto the porch.

  The cool morning air, and the sound of birds chirping, greeted me along with the rising sun. The blue-grey sky overhead, with tiny white clouds, was the same as back home in Canalo. All I could see were the pretty pavilions and beyond, bits of the higher palace complex. The wall around the Imperial City prevented me from glimpsing any forests, though my nose told me that a garden with trees must be nearby, and ponds with fish and aquatic birds. Beyond those walls were the private palace grounds, off limits to visitors. A whiff of incense wafted on the air, and my nose twitched. Did Garaian mages also worship the Creator and the First Mage? And what of the Garaian humans and shifters? I’d have to ask Director Chen.

  I took my time enjoying the exotic architecture and intriguing smells as I picked my way along a path to a nearby pavilion with a twenty-four-hour buffet. It had been set up to cater to the Empire’s guests in between more formal meals, and I was eager to try the many and varied dishes that I was told would be offered.

  “Good morning, miss,” a female servant greeted me, bowing deeply. She spoke Garaian, but I knew enough by now to recognize greetings and a few other phrases. She was dressed in white, the color of mourning, as I would be soon enough—our hosts had provided stiff, heavy robes for the funeral ceremony that I was very much not looking forward to wearing.

  “Good morning,” I replied in Garaian, one of the first expressions I had picked up. I stepped past her, toward the rows of long tables laden with trays full of strange delicacies, many of which I’d never seen before. Picking up a plate, I made my way up and down the tables and piled it high with almost everything I saw. It might be a long time until I returned to Garai, and I might never get to try these particular dishes again. Every type of meat I had ever tasted was present, as well as some I had not—what was that meat in a red pungent sauce?—but quite a few of the dishes were completely meatless. Not a single grain of rice was in sight, which would have surprised me had I not learned in my studies that rice was considered peasant food. I wondered if eating vegetables by themselves was some weird Garaian custom. Definitely not the right diet for a shifter like me.

  Going by scent, I decided against trying the dark green “thousand-year-old” eggs. I ended up with three full plates, which I balanced precariously as I took my food to one of the nearby tables and ate. I devoured everything, then went back for seconds, thirds, and fourths, until I was stuffed. Director Chen had mentioned that the buffet would be closing down when the funeral
began, and that it would not be opened again during the traditional eight days of mourning. Everyone, even the guests, was supposed to remain secluded and fasting during that period, though we had all brought enough provisions to make the week bearable.

  I wonder if fasting applies to the Lion Guard, and shifters in general, I thought. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive a weeklong fast unless I slept through it, and the guards would have to keep up their strength to be effective. Thank Magorah I wasn’t going to be in Bilai for the mourning period. Blowing up another Resistance lab was a small price to pay for being allowed to eat warm meals on a regular basis.

  With my belly pleasantly full of roast pork, duck, and a whole bunch of things I couldn’t name but had tasted delicious, I headed back to our lodgings in the other pavilion. The path wound past several guest pavilions on the way back to my own, and as I passed between two of them, the back of my neck began to prickle with awareness. Was someone watching me?

  A blade hissed through the air, and I ducked in time to avoid a throwing star winging toward me. The multi-pointed blade embedded itself in the wall behind me, and I grabbed a chakram from my pouch as three humans dressed in black, their faces covered by masks and hoods, dropped down from seemingly out of nowhere. I flung my chakram at the first one’s head, but he ducked out of the way with impressive speed, then flung another throwing star at my head.

  “Dammit!” I ducked, then rolled aside as the other two attackers charged me with swords. I needed to get out of this narrow alleyway…or did I? Why was I fighting like a street thug? Didn’t I have magic?

  Grinning, I sprang to my feet, then shouted a spell that activated a shield around me. The first swordsman’s blade clashed against the red field of energy, and his eyes widened right before he was thrown back against the pavilion behind him. Screams came from within, but no one came out to check what was going on. Cowards. Fed up, I threw my hands out and blasted the other two attackers with fire before they could run away. They dropped to the ground, shrieking in pain, and began to roll back and forth, trying to extinguish the flames. Furious, I drew my crescent knives, then grabbed them both by their long hair, one by one, and slit their throats. Their blood pooled thick and fast beneath them as I tossed their carcasses to the ground, poisoning the peaceful air with the scent of copper and death.

  “You,” I growled, turning to the last one, who was struggling to rise. “Who sent you? Why are you trying to kill me?”

  A burst of green energy came flying toward me, and the hair along my arms stood on end as the magic barreled straight through my shield, which was only meant to withstand physical weapons. I managed to duck just before it hit me, but the mage who’d thrown the blast stepped from behind one of the pavilions, and blasted me again. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but his voluminous black robes and hood disguised every other feature. Worse, I couldn’t even detect his scent, which meant he was disguising it with magic, as I’d often done myself.

  “What is this shit?” I shouted, jumping over the blast and closing the distance between myself and the enemy mage. He jerked back, an involuntary reaction, and before he could utter another Word, I drew my fist back and punched him in the face. The force of the blow was compounded by gravity as I landed on my feet, and he went sprawling in the dirt.

  “Miss Baine?” Garrett called, and I turned to see him rushing toward me on the path. A mistake, as the remaining human slashed at me with a knife he must have hidden in his sleeve. I hissed as the blade sliced my arm open, then whirled back around and grabbed his knife arm. He screamed as I twisted it back around, and there was a sickening crack as I broke it at the elbow. He fell to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes, and I brought down the crescent knife in my other hand, intending to end him. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement from the other mage and turned to see him throw a small dark sphere to the ground. Purple smoke exploded from it, and I choked as a thick, pungent odor filled the air, clogging my nose and stinging my eyes. My grasp on the wounded assassin slipped, and I stumbled back from the noxious cloud, desperate to get away so I could clear my senses.

  “Miss Baine!” Garrett grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me away from the acrid smoke. He released me, magic crackling at his fingertips, and we both waited for the masked mage to emerge from the artificial fog. But when the smoke cleared, he and the surviving human were gone, leaving behind only the bodies of the two assassins I’d killed.

  “Are you all right?” Garrett asked, dropping his hands. The magic at his fingertips faded away. “I was on my way to the buffet when I heard the commotion.”

  “I would be fine, if not for this stupid scratch.” Lifting my left arm, I examined the wound. The flaps of skin were still hanging open, revealing raw flesh underneath, and I grimaced at the pain. Normally, my flesh would have already started pulling itself back together by now—I’d just eaten, and the full moon had recently come and gone. “Why the fuck isn’t this healing?”

  “Here, let me take care of it.” Garrett took my arm, and I hissed as agony exploded up my nerve endings. He held his free hand above the open wound and spoke a few Words, that I recognized from Iannis and his healing spells. Pale green magic spilled over the wound, and we both stiffened and grimaced in pain. I watched in disgust and awe as my ragged skin slowly came back together over my flesh, then fused into an ugly scar.

  “Lord Iannis will be able to heal this better,” Garrett said, letting out a tired breath as he released my arm. “But this will keep you from bleeding out, for now.”

  “Are they gone?” a coffee-skinned woman asked in a trembling voice as she came out of the pavilion to the left. Other mages were emerging as well, worried and angry looks on their faces. “What happened?”

  “I was attacked,” I snapped, stalking over to the burned bodies. “Thanks a lot for the help, by the way.”

  Three Lion Guards arrived on the scene—late, as far as I was concerned—and after checking on the bodies, approached us. “A thousand pardons, my lady, for allowing this to happen,” one of the three guards said in a thick accent. They all crouched down, lowering their brows to the dirt.

  “How the hell did these guys manage to get onto the grounds?” Shaking my head, I ignored them and picked up the bloody knife that I’d been sliced with out of the dirt. It had a black handle, and seemed to be made of ordinary steel, but there were runes carved along its edge, and it smelled strongly of magic.

  “Let me see that,” Garrett said. I handed him the knife reluctantly, and he peered closely at the runes. “This knife has been spelled so that whatever wounds it inflicts will not close,” he said grimly. “Anyone cut by it would bleed out and die if not seen to by a mage healer, even a shifter like you.”

  “This is not a Garaian blade,” one of the guards said, his black brows pulled together in a worried scowl. “Whoever attacked you tonight was not one of us.”

  Great, I thought, looking around at the growing crowd of delegates who’d come out of their pavilions to investigate. That really narrows it down.

  “I’ve half a mind to pack you up and send you off on the first ship back to Northia,” Iannis growled. We sat side by side, along with the rest of our delegation, atop a huge litter, as part of a mile-long procession toward the funeral site.

  “I’m not going to tuck my tail between my legs and run away every time someone tries to kill me,” I declared. “Didn’t I survive and kill two of them? I’m too tough to be easily picked off.”

  Iannis had been beside himself when he’d learned about the attack and seen my healing wound. He’d blamed himself for allowing me to go to the buffet by myself instead of getting up and coming with me, and since that moment, he had not strayed from my side for an instant.

  “You could have been killed.” Iannis gently pushed the sleeve of my white robe up and traced the inside of my arm. He’d healed it right away, and there was nothing left, not even the trace of a scar. The knife that had inflicted the wound was in the cu
stody of the Lion Guard, much to my annoyance, but this wasn’t my home turf and there was nothing I could do. Hopefully, they had some magical method to trace the owner.

  “But I wasn’t,” I soothed Iannis. “And now that the guards are hyper-vigilant, I doubt the assassins would dare to attack again.” The guards had assured me that they were looking into the assassination attempt, and, in the meantime, they would put extra guards outside our pavilion. “That is going to pose a bit of a problem when we try to sneak out tonight.”

  “I’m not concerned about that,” Iannis said. The litter gently bobbed beneath us as the dozens of muscular servants carried us. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them—they didn’t even have the benefit of the baldachin that covered our litter and shielded us from the hot summer sun. “It is not good enough for us to leave this investigation to the Lion Guard. We must find out which delegation is responsible for this attack.”

  “Do you think it’s the Castalians?” I bit my lip. Haman had seemed friendly enough, but Isana’s reaction had been less welcoming. Could she have ordered the attack?

  “They are my main suspects,” Iannis said grimly. “Haman didn’t act as though he wished you ill, but we mages are very good at hiding our emotions. Even if it wasn’t him, one of his children may have orchestrated the attempt on your life. They stand to lose just as much, if not more, than Haman himself, should your connection to their family be revealed.”

  I held back a sigh, not wanting to draw the attention of the Minister, who sat behind me, or any of the others. He had questioned me at length about the incident, though he had been more worried that this was an attack against the Northian delegation rather than a personal one on me. Garrett and Solar had argued that perhaps it was my shifter heritage that had prompted the attack—prejudice was alive and well in Recca, stronger in some countries than others. But the Minister had pointed out that if he was going to attack a shifter, he would have made sure the weapons were silver, and none of the ones found at the attack site had been. He surmised that the attackers either did not know enough about shifter weaknesses, or that they were just attacking Northian delegates in general.