by Jasmine Walt
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Glossary
About the Author
Also by Jasmine Walt
Taken by Magic
The Baine Chronicles: Book 8
Jasmine Walt
Dynamo Press
Copyright © 2017, Jasmine Walt. All rights reserved. Published by Dynamo Press. This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the publisher. Inquiries may be addressed via email to [email protected]
* * *
Cover illustration by Judah Dobin. Cover typography by Rebecca Frank. Edited by Mary Burnett.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Glossary
About the Author
Also by Jasmine Walt
1
“I can’t believe we have a party scheduled every other day this month,” I groused as our carriage rumbled up the winding hillside road leading to Lady Porgillas’s mansion. “Don’t these people understand we have a state to run?”
Iannis gently dug his thumb into my shoulder, which was knotted with tension. “Such things matter little to our hosts when there is an upcoming wedding,” he said as I moaned in relief. “All of our wealthy constituents are trying to one-up each other with these lavish parties and gifts, and as Lady Porgillas donated quite a substantial one, we cannot slight her by ignoring her invitation.”
“Nobody asked her to get that fountain,” I grumbled, but it was half-hearted. Lady Porgillas had donated a twelve-foot marble fountain sculpture of Magorah—traditionally depicted as a warrior in a wolf pelt—for the newly rebuilt square in Shiftertown. It was a generous gesture, and one I especially could not ignore as a half-shifter myself. The residents of Shiftertown had been thrilled to receive it, and the fact that it had come from a mage went a long way toward improving race relations.
“Why did she have that sculpture created, anyway?” I asked Iannis as the mansion finally came into view. “Does Lady Porgillas have some kind of soft spot for shifters?”
Iannis shrugged. “Not that I have heard. But she knows that you do, and like I said, our wealthier citizens are all trying to one-up each other just now. It was quite a clever gift on her part.”
I nodded as the carriage doors opened and a liveried footman helped us to the ground. The skirts of the steel blue gown I’d chosen for the evening rustled a little as I alighted, and I quickly checked to make sure it hadn’t snagged on anything. The first time I’d attended one of these gatherings, I’d somehow managed to get the end of my skirt jammed in a door closing behind me, and the fabric had ripped before I’d realized what had happened. An easy fix, now that I had Fenris’s vast magical knowledge at my disposal, but there had been quite a few people around to witness the blunder, and the last thing I needed was to walk into this hoity-toity mansion with a rip in my skirt.
The thought of Fenris sent a pang of sadness through me, and I forced myself to push it aside. He was alive, I knew, and there was no point in dwelling on his absence. He would contact us when he was ready to be found again.
If he’s ever ready to be found again.
Lady Porgillas’s mansion was tall and imposing and surrounded by park-like gardens, as favored by wealthy mages. Since it was an hour from the city, she could have as much space as she wanted. I was getting to know this lifestyle quite well, with all these parties I was attending. I supposed I should count myself lucky that we’d rejected a good portion of the invitations—otherwise we’d be attending two to three parties per night, which would have driven me up a wall.
Pushing that unpleasant thought out of my mind, I took an appreciative sniff of the fresh evening air, cleaner than in the city—the linden trees lining the drive were in bloom, almost overpowering in the early summer air. The sun was just setting over the sea, but there wasn’t much time for me to admire our surroundings. Iannis took my arm, and I curled my fingers around his forearm as he led me up the steps and into the mansion. Iannis had our invitation, but the guard at the entrance waved us through without even asking to see it—nobody ever failed to recognize the Chief Mage and his shifter bride, not after our names and faces had been plastered across every newspaper in the Federation. Besides, we were supposed to be the guests of honor tonight.
“Lord Iannis!” Lady Porgillas greeted us with a warm smile as we entered the packed ballroom. She was a slim redhead who wore her three hundred and fifty years lightly. “Welcome to my little party. Everyone is agog to meet you.”
A sea of robes and dresses filled the gigantic space, and as I swept my gaze across the floor, I noted that there were only mages in attendance.
“And the lovely Miss Baine. I am so pleased you could make it.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Iannis said, briefly bending over the lady’s hand and kissing it.
“And for your generous gift,” I added with a smile of my own as I shook our hostess’s hand. “The residents of Shiftertown are very pleased.”
“I’m delighted to hear that,” she said. “I thought a fountain sculpture would be just the thing to liven up that drab little square of theirs.” The way she said it, with just the slightest note of condescension in her voice, told me exactly what she thought of Shiftertown and its denizens, and I blinked.
“Have you actually been there, then?” I asked. I had figured she had chosen a depiction of Magorah simply because everyone knew that he was the shifter god, but perhaps she knew more about shifters than she was letting on.
Lady Porgillas shrugged. “Once, to assist with the relief efforts after the quake. I am so lucky that my mansion out here among the vineyards was properly warded…I hear that things are much improved in Solantha since that dreadful day.”
“Yes,” Iannis cut in smoothly, “and we greatly appreciate all you’ve done for us.” He gave me a subtle warning glance, and I bit back a sigh. I knew I shouldn’t feel so defensive about Shiftertown, especially since she had given such a great gift. I just wished it had been out of true generosity rather than a desire to impress her fellow mages, and particularly Iannis.
Still, it wa
s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Eventually, Iannis and I moved on to mingle with the rest of the crowd. All of the mages we talked to were almost irritatingly polite to our faces. However, a few hung back, eyeing me with barely concealed disdain, and I left a trail of whispers in my wake that I did my best to tune out. I was well aware that not everyone approved of my match with Iannis, but they could stick their jealousy and condemnation up their asses. The only thing that mattered was our love and commitment for each other, and that was as strong as it had ever been.
Still, when I stopped by the refreshment table to fill a plate with crab cakes, tiny salmon rolls, and goose liver canapés, I couldn’t help but overhear a gaggle of women nearby.
“Look at her. That’s the third plate she’s taken tonight. How is she not bursting out of the seams of her dress?”
“I hear shifters have very high metabolisms and can eat whatever they want.” The other mage tittered. “Even so, that dress is a pretty tight fit.”
“Well, it’s understandable that she would not want to wear apprentice robes to an affair like this and remind everyone of her lowly status. One does wonder when the Chief Mage and she find time to practice?”
“He finds time enough to tumble her, I’d bet. Though how he can bring himself to—”
“I know what you mean. Shifters are savages, and she is no different. Just look at those animal eyes of hers. I guess there must be some kind of kinky appeal; there’s no accounting for tastes. And yet she prances around with her head high, as though she were as good as any of us.”
My fingers tightened on the gold-plated tongs I was holding, and I had to force myself to let go before I accidentally bent them. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I forced myself to calm down. I’d heard it all before, and would probably continue to hear it no matter how far I got in life. Bigots rarely ever changed their minds—the best way to ensure that their hatred didn’t spread was to simply not pay them any attention.
“This absurd match cannot go well. I wonder how long into their marriage until the Chief Mage starts looking for a mistress?”
My resolve to ignore them abruptly snapped. Seeing red, I quickly riffled through my magical repertoire, searching for a suitable spell that could be cast at a distance. I hid a smile when I found the perfect thing, then subtly flicked my hand toward their group and muttered the Words under my breath.
While the magic did its work, I sauntered over to an older mage with my plate of finger food and struck up a conversation. It turned out that he was a weather mage, and as I half-listened to his talk about storms and wind patterns, I looked toward the group of gossips out of the corner of my eye. They were continuing to make snide remarks about me, but unbeknownst to them, something strange was very gradually happening to their clothing.
“By the Lady,” one of them exclaimed after a while. “Myrna, you must have washed this set of robes one too many times. I can see straight through them!”
Myrna, who was an older mage with silver hair, gasped as she looked down at herself. I angled my head a little more toward them and saw that Myrna’s deep blue robes had become very sheer, exposing a bony frame and mismatched underwear. But the other woman…
“Stacia!” one of the other women gasped. “You aren’t wearing any underwear at all!”
“What in Recca is going on?” the weather mage asked, craning his neck to look over my shoulder. I turned around fully, and bit back a laugh—everyone else was now gawking at the five women, whose saggy arms and spindly, unshaven legs were on full display for everyone to see. The most amusing were the two who had used illusion to make their faces appear more youthful, while leaving everything else beneath their robes untouched. I guessed they thought they were saving magic, but they wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Why, this is outrageous!” Myrna made a sharp gesture and quickly muttered a spell. The robes immediately returned to normal, though the mages’ expressions did not—all five women were red-faced and in various states of anger and embarrassment. “Who did this?” she demanded loudly. “Come forward at once!”
But no one said anything, and as the snickers from the other guests continued to grow, the women began to shrink back in embarrassment. I was tempted to meet Myrna’s eyes and give her a big smile, but instead, I looked at Iannis. He was on the far side of the room conversing with a middle-aged woman, but when our eyes met, he gave me a subtle wink.
“Try not to make a habit of it,” he suggested as he turned back to the man he was talking to. “If clothes begin to disappear at every event we attend, we shan’t be invited back again.”
“Then I will make every effort to make sure that it happens,” I teased.
I felt his laughter down the mindspeak connection before I severed it, then apologized to the weather mage and gave him my attention again. The rest of the evening wore on, with boring conversation after boring conversation, but the results from my little magical prank were enough to keep a smile on my face. Luckily, most of the mages had a few glasses of wine in them, so it wasn’t exactly difficult to pretend to be interested—some of them were drunk enough that they would have carried on a conversation with a wall without noticing.
Eventually we sat down for a six-course dinner featuring lobster bisque, trout soufflé, roast duck, beef with pineapple sauce, oven-fried buttered mangoes, and marzipan pudding, with different and probably very expensive wines for every course. There would be some dancing afterward, and then Iannis and I would finally be able to make our getaway. Maybe we’d even get a bit of alone time for once. Our sex life had taken a nosedive these past few months, with all the rebuilding efforts plus the wedding planning taking most of our attention and time. Only nine more weeks now—I couldn’t wait for it all to be over.
When the meal finally came to an end, Lady Porgillas tapped her glass with her fork to get everyone’s attention. “Before we begin dancing,” she said, “how about we demonstrate some of our latest achievements? I know there are a few of us here tonight who have recently mastered interesting new spells.”
The crowd reacted enthusiastically to this suggestion, and I buried a groan. This wasn’t the first time I’d been forced to endure a magical “show-and-tell,” and it was always embarrassing because as an apprentice with less than two years of training, I couldn’t very well perform high-level spells. The last thing I needed was people noticing that I was way ahead of the curriculum. So I was always forced to perform some relatively easy spell, and the mages would titter behind their hands at the “cute little apprentice” who was so out of her league.
“This is stupid,” I grumbled to Iannis as the first mage stood up and conjured a flaming bird that soared around the room, showering us with embers. The room gasped when the embers turned into rubies upon hitting the ground. I picked mine up, and it sat in the palm of my hand for a moment before vanishing. I had no doubt the ruby had been real, but manufacturing coins and gemstones without official leave by the Federation was considered illegal, so of course the mage couldn’t let us keep them.
“I don’t see any reason why you can’t show off a little bit,” Iannis said, slipping his hand into mine beneath the table. “After all, we are planning to graduate you early as a ‘fast learner.’ If you don’t demonstrate that you are making above-average progress, it will seem suspicious if we tell them a year from now you are all finished.”
“Really?” I perked right up at that. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
Iannis smiled. “I don’t see the harm. Fenris is gone anyway—it won’t affect his safety if you show these mages some of your accomplishments.”
The mention of Fenris sobered us both, and I squeezed his hand. “I wish he was here with us,” I said quietly as we watched another mage perform. “He was supposed to stand with you on our wedding day.”
“The wedding is still over two moons away,” Iannis said. “We may yet hear from him before then.”
Yes, but that didn’t mean Fen
ris would return to Solantha. And I couldn’t blame him. The Federal Director of Security, Garrett Toring, had come dangerously close to figuring out the truth—if I hadn’t convinced him that Fenris was Polar ar’Tollis’s son, rather than Polar in permanent disguise, he would likely still be on his manhunt right now. Maybe I could convince Fenris to come back if I told him about that cover story, but it was hardly safe to talk about such deadly secrets over the phone.
“I’d like to take a turn,” I announced, standing up. Maybe Fenris couldn’t be with us, but his memories and knowledge were right here, in my head, and I would honor him tonight by making full use of them.
“Of course, Miss Baine,” Lady Porgillas said, gesturing to the makeshift stage that had been set up. “We all would love to see what Lord Iannis has been teaching you.”
A murmur rippled through the room, which I ignored as I took the stage. Everybody knew that masters and apprentices weren’t supposed to engage in an amorous relationship, and Iannis and I had smashed that rule into the dust. Judging from that gossip earlier, people were wondering if the apprenticeship was just a pretext. Well, I’d show them.
“Lord Iannis and I have been practicing weather magic lately,” I announced to the room as I lifted my arms. Several people shifted in their chairs at that, and I gave them a fierce smile as I quietly spoke a complicated spell under my breath. The air in the room stirred to life, a mere breeze at first, but as the magic built, it quickly grew into a raging windstorm. The crowd gasped, ducking down as the chandeliers began to swing wildly. Two curtains were torn down from the windows, and several women shrieked as pins were torn from their hair, their careful coiffures undone by the wild winds. Platters rattled, silverware clattered to the floor, and several wineglasses were toppled, sending rivers of red down the white tablecloths. A veritable tornado had invaded the elegant dining room. It felt amazing, and from the alarmed expressions around me, I was playing right into the cliché of the fierce, dangerous shifter.