Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2)

by Nicolette Jinks

  “Someone's feeling shy. Here I was anticipating being taunted and toyed with, but I'm the one with the honors.” He resumed weaving kisses across my neck, dipping down to my neckline, eliciting pure forbidden thrill.

  “Mordon.”

  He looked up, his eyes merry. “Oh, no, I'm enjoying this. You are stunning with rosy cheeks. If I'd known it was this easy to fluster you…”

  His teasing wasn't helping. It was bad enough having to shut out the nagging voice in the back of my conscience. I crossed my arms, feeling embarrassed and shocked at what I'd been willing to let him do. “Stop, not tonight.”

  He propped himself up onto one elbow, smiling. “Are you serious or playing?”

  I sighed. Don't make me explain, I wanted to say, but didn't have the guts to voice. And … I did fear upsetting him, I didn't want to cause an argument. Instead, he looked both intrigued and resigned.

  Mordon squeezed my hand. “Not tonight.”

  Was there a bit of disappointment in his tone, or was that my imagination? My throat felt tense. “It's just been such a busy day. I'm feeling strained.”

  “I could help with that,” he said, his voice husky, an invitation should I change my mind. I didn't answer him. He wrapped a hand around my waist and drew me into him. “You're so calm and composed through everything. I admire you, and I was thinking of the things I would love doing with you.”

  My heart—and resolve—was melting, and he knew it. I said, half-charmed, half-accusing, “You were thinking of crossing a few new things off your to-do list.”

  He kissed me lightly, softly, on the lips. “I did have the thought, yes, if you were up for it. But prolonged teasing is a very heady thing to enjoy.” I felt him smile against the skin of my throat. “And it is fun to toe the limits a little.”

  The tension in my stomach eased, and his words sent a fresh heat through me. “Is it now?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I'm never sure what's 'yes' and what's 'no' on you, so I listen to the speed of your breathing, notice if you're pushing into my touch or pulling away. There was a little of both earlier, but now …”

  I kissed him deeper, a kiss which turned my blood ablaze and made me want him to be bolder with his hands. When our lips came apart, I said in a breathy voice which I didn't recognize, “You could ask.”

  “And you could say.”

  His finger toyed with the hem of my shirt. I took in a shallow, gasping breath. I kissed him again. When his nails brushed my belly, I groaned. He kissed harder, a fierce kiss while the tips of his fingers barely touched my abdomen, tracing soft circles below my belly button. I grabbed him by the back of his head, grasping his hair. We stayed like that until I felt frustrated at the lack of something. No sooner had I let go than he kissed me once more, chastely, and smoothed my shirt back out.

  “That will be enough for now, I think.”

  I growled, not sure what I wanted to say, disappointed and relieved at the modest pace he'd decided to call it quits at.

  “Shh, let's find some sleep,” Mordon said.

  Wanting yet reassured, I rested my neck on his arm, let him wrap his body around mine, and listened to his steady breathing as he fell asleep before I did.

  “Breakfast,” said a voice towering over me. I rolled to my other side, but couldn't escape Mordon. “It's a brace of hares, charbroiled. You will forgive the lack of seasoning, but I didn't think it wise to pick any plants without you.”

  I opened my eyes. Daylight came over the eastern ridge, through aspens and firs, dappling the grass around me green and shadow-blue. Breakfast smelled like burned fur foremost and grilled meat secondly.

  A leathery carcass dangled in front of me.

  “I have already eaten my share,” said Mordon. “Best hurry and eat it while it's still hot.”

  I rubbed my eyes, then reached out and poked the offering with a forefinger. It had a thick shell on it. Wondering if it was raw inside, I accepted the first hare and made a scene of tearing into it. It was bleeding some against the bone but the rest was cooked. Thoroughly. I didn't see a new attempt at a campfire. When I swallowed my next bite, I asked, “How did you cook these?”

  Mordon stared at me a few seconds, then glanced about the clearing to where there were his-sized dragon footprints. “I put them on my tongue and breathed on them for a while.”

  “I hope you gutted them first.”

  He shook his head. “Already done.”

  I swallowed the next bite hard. “You can't mean you woke up and they were laying there for us to find.”

  “I mean I woke up and there were six hanging from a branch for us.”

  “And you left me two. How sweet of you.”

  He watched me eat until I was half-done with the first hare, then snatched up the second one and set to wolfing that down. In the end, I also gave him the back quarter of the hare I was eating, as well.

  “Hungry as a teenager.”

  He grinned. “You haven't been around colony adolescents.”

  I scoffed but decided not to press the point. Within a few more minutes, I found myself smiling at Mordon, admiring him. I'd grown used to seeing him in his antiquities shop and around Merlyn's Market. Now that he was dropped into a new environment, in a place where we fought not with money and customers and law, but for our very survival, I saw him afresh. My impression of him had changed since I first barged into his shop. Then he'd seemed intimidating and mercurial, but now I saw the way his red-green hazel eyes darted to the clearing, saw the way he moved sure and confident. He was strong, handsome in an unconventional heavy-nosed way.

  Mordon smiled at me. “Don't you be getting any thoughts into that head of yours.”

  “What thoughts?”

  “I know that smile, and if you don't stop it soon, I might be tempted to accept your invitation.”

  I giggled. “You wouldn't dare.”

  “I wouldn't? You know I can't pass up a challenge like that.”

  I got to my feet, grinning, mirroring his crouch. He faked a lunge, I slapped his forearm and dodged back. A huge smile was on his face as he swiped for me and I avoided it. I didn't know what game we were playing, but I didn't care. He made for me again. I skipped back.

  “I got you last,” I taunted.

  “Did you?”

  “Yep. What sort of a future drake lord are you if you can't keep your little wifey in line?”

  Mordon rushed me and I narrowly ducked beneath his arm, slapping his back on the way out. He spun before I could tap him twice in a row. “Little wifey? I like the ring of that.”

  “Do you?” I struck a pose. “Oh but I don't know if you can keep up with me, you're an old man.”

  He looked older than I was, and he spoke of events which happened before I'd learned to care about them. I liked the ambiguity.

  He growled, but he was smiling. “I'll show you the advantage of experience, you young whelp.”

  “And how do—”

  I shrieked as he caught me in one swift snatch, casting me up over his shoulder. He grunted.

  “You've gained weight.”

  “Jerk!” I slapped his rump.

  He returned the slap, softer than the one I'd given him, but I still yelped in surprise. He laughed.

  “Let me down!”

  “I don't think so, not until I know what I'm going to do to keep you in line.”

  I tried to see his face, but the best I could do was not scrape my head on low hanging branches while he toted me off through the trail. My cheeks burned.

  “I'll think of something to do to you, Meadows, you mark my words.”

  “Gladly. I hope it's something exotic.”

  “Ah! Wait, my hair's caught,” I said when a branch snagged my braid. Once I worked it free, I asked, “Where are we going?”

  “No idea. The creek we were following is gone.”

  “I take it you can see your way around.”

  “Yes. But you are mistaken if you think that you're distracting me from a more enticing
topic.”

  I wrapped an arm around his face, blocking his eyes with the crook of my elbow. “Can't see to take me anywhere, so put me down.”

  “As you wish.”

  Then we were falling. I braced myself, surprised when my back touched ground, Mordon pinning my shoulders to the grass, grinning at me with a glint that spoke of trouble I didn't want to deny him. I cuffed his shoulder.

  “This wasn't what I meant.”

  “How about this?” He bent down and kissed me, smothering my reply. It was pure heaven and I wanted everything from last night to happen again, and for it to happen now.

  I didn't even have my hand in his hair before we heard, “Unhand her, fire drake!”

  We stared at each other, unbelieving for a second, giving each other the 'did you hear that, too' expression. Then his brows knit together in a very cross way. I was beginning to feel like that, too, when Mordon slid off my body into a crouching position.

  “Who is there?” I yelled, getting my own feet under me. Mordon laid a hand on my shoulder while he stood.

  No one answered. I rose alongside Mordon, standing back to back with him. There was nothing in the trees that I could see, though the leaves made it difficult to say for certain. Nor did I see anyone peering over the short shrubs and bushes. The trail was a dirt path, and I could observe it wrapping out of sight in the trees. Here the plants weren't as thick as they had been at the entrance. Mordon started forward. I stopped him.

  The wind hit something solid in the shadows below a snowberry bush. I pointed, and after a moment, I saw the flash of the whites of eyes. Then the outline of a man became clear.

  “We see you,” Mordon said. “State your name and purpose.”

  The man got up. He was lanky, slender, and had slanted tips on his ears. His clothes looked homespun, naturally dyed greens and browns. He wore knee-length trousers, a pale brown shirt, and a green vest. He bowed, a long-stemmed watchman pipe in one hand.

  “They call me Lyall Limber. I watch this area of the woods, and now I'm going to rescue my fair cousin from your amorous overtures.”

  So this was what Lyall looked like when he wasn't disguised under a spell? He seemed like an entirely different man. I stepped in front of Mordon, though I made for a very small shield. “Hear me out, Lyall of the Limber Clan. I have no desire to be rescued from my husband.”

  It seemed wiser to say husband than fiance in a world which believed engagements to be a human invention to excuse indecision.

  “Husband?” Lyall looked stunned, then he smiled. “You overstate your relationship. The bond between you two is far from complete.”

  Heat seared my cheeks as the meaning set in. “I won't be your amusement. Be off with you if you have nothing better to do.”

  “I would be sadly neglecting my duties if I were to leave an unmated woman to the advances of a rake such as this. I will accompany you as your chaperone. The Swift Clan would expect no less of me, and I'm certain they would be very intrigued by your reason for bringing him along with you on your summons. Is he a safety policy? I assure you, any fey kin have nothing to fear here except for their own actions. Hasten to answer me, now, or I will think even less of your pursuer than before. What is he doing here?”

  “He is here because I want him here.”

  “But why do you wish his presence? Is it to hide behind his name and strength?”

  “I never told you his name. I told you mine, and I'm not hiding behind him. He may be anyone. And he's not my pursuer, he's my friend and companion, and he's here despite his race and station in life.”

  “Are you certain he's not here for other reasons?”

  “I know why he's here. What I don't know is why you are.”

  Lyall bowed again. “That you do not. I will leave your friend in peace. I have no wish to quarrel with you. I felt the need to interfere before I witnessed any more this morning. I forgot that you haven't lived in the woods before, so you don't understand our ways.”

  Mordon put a hand around my waist, drawing a scowl from Lyall. Mordon said, “You were the one who left the hares for us this morning.”

  “I did,” Lyall said. “But the day is passing, and we must make progress before darker things awaken.”

  I watched him move off down the trail. “Think we are better off following him than striking out on our own?”

  Mordon shrugged. “I don't know if it matters one way or the other. The woods will take us where it will.”

  Chapter Six

  Branches swung in Lyall's wake. One whipped me straight across the face. Mouth still stinging, I was sure to catch the next branch and release it slowly so Mordon could grab it.

  With its halo of tree moss, and the springy compost-laden ground, this part of the woods made me think we had moved to a new area altogether. It reminded me of the place my parents had moved to right after I'd lost my magic. Mother had shushed any talk of potions or spells. There is plenty to do in life. Giving, for instance. Being giving will secure your well-being.

  A very familiar path made me freeze.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. With every step I was becoming convinced that I did recognize this place.

  “The Offering Tree. You've been in the Wildwoods long enough to see it now. It's where we got to ask for a new beginning, to seek our fates, and to ask for guidance.”

  “Should I be along?” Mordon asked.

  The crashing noise which marked Lyall's progress quieted for a few seconds. “Yes, I believe so.”

  We came to a path lined with thick branches and paved with pea gravel glinting with small quartz crystals. It struck me as waste from an old-style mine. Curious, I asked, “Was there a silver mine in the area?”

  Lyall turned his head to see me, bemused by my question. He pointed up the far mountainside, where a narrow road led to a hole in the mountain's face.

  “Wildwoods Silver Mine, been in operation since the very beginning. We extract enough for our needs and no more. Jewellery and other silverware is granted for special occasions so that it maintains its value and does not deplete our resources. Pialtir is our master silversmith, but he prefers to remain on his own when at all possible.” Lyall stopped, tapping his walking stick absently against the ground as he studied me. “How did you know?”

  “The gravelled walk has a lot of quartz in it, and I always remember finding plenty of quartz at historic silver mines when Father took us hiking. I thought whoever put the gravel here wouldn't want to pack it in from too far away.”

  That, and I had definitely been here before. The thought that my parents had taken me into the Wildwoods without my knowledge was disorienting.

  Lyall cocked his head, displaying a stripe of tree sap on his jawline. “You do have a unique way of seeing things. It's no wonder the Hunters talk about you.”

  “Talk about me?”

  Lyall started back down the trail, walking with deliberate slowness. “Not ever day, you understand, but every now and again they talk about how you tricked that wraith. It's a legend.”

  I blushed and was immediately annoyed at myself for being pleased. The air was still, humid, and thereby hot in the sunny trek.

  “I didn't do anything spectacular. Simple little illusion is all.”

  “Just the same thing which killed Cole, a simple little illusion.” Lyall's boots scuffed on the timber stairs descending a rocky drop off too steep for a trail yet far too short to call a cliff. Seep springs trickled under the staircase, yellow-spotted monkeyflowers poked their heads over the boards around my ankles.

  I thought we'd finished on the topic. Lyall stopped at the bottom and added, “Know that illusions, delusions, lies, and ignorance have great power. It is possibly the most wicked weapon of all, the ability to deceive. Think about that before you approach the Offering Tree.”

  Lyall continued the final distance to a cluster of leaning river birches. I waited until Mordon stopped on the grassy glen beside me.

  “What do you think?”
>
  Mordon plucked a yellow and purple monkeyflower. “I wonder why people are scorned for their lies yet celebrated for their ignorance when it is all a form of deception. In a lie, one knows more than they say; in ignorance, one says more than they know. He has me pondering which of the two is a greater evil.”

  Lyall whistled impatiently. “You coming?”

  I smiled and soon ducked under the low branches of the first river birch, encountering a tiny stream. I hopped over it, noting that it may have been deep enough for a large toad to wallow in, and arrived in a nest of rocks and red-tinged columbines as tall as my waist. Tied to the most upright trunk of three trees all grouped together were a lot of scrolls. Crimson wax sealed each scroll, the edges tattered by the weather.