by Jasmine Walt
Betrayed by Magic
a New Adult Fantasy Novel
Jasmine Walt
Blue Bolt Publishing
Contents
Author’s Note
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Glossary
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Jasmine Walt
Copyright © 2016, Jasmine Walt. All rights reserved. Published by Blue Bolt Publishing.
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
Electronic edition, 2016. If you want to be notified when Jasmine’s next novel is released and get access to exclusive contests, giveaways, and freebies, sign up for her mailing list here. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
If this is the first book you’ve picked up in the Baine Chronicles series, I’ve included a glossary in the back of the book to help illuminate the backstory. If you’ve already read the rest of the series, this glossary will help reacquaint you to the people, places and things introduced to you in earlier books.
You can either read the glossary first to familiarize or re-familiarize yourself with Sunaya’s world, or you can plunge into the story and refer to it as needed. The guide is in alphabetical order, and characters are listed last name first. To the new reader, welcome to the Baine Chronicles! And to those of you who have read the first book, welcome back and thank you! Your support allows me to continue doing what I love most – writing.
Best,
Jasmine
1
Warm hands gliding up my sides awoke me from a sound sleep. They were big hands, strong and sure and confident, but their touch was gentle, teasing even as they roused me from my slumber. Mumbling a little into the pillow, I tried to roll over, but a heavy weight settled atop my body, preventing the motion.
“Good morning, a ghrá,” Iannis murmured roughly in my ear. I smiled at the foreign endearment he sometimes used when we were in private. His hands trailed higher, sliding beneath my torso to cup my breasts, and I sucked in a tiny, sharp breath as his thumbs flicked over my nipples.
“Morning,” I said, arching my back as he pressed kisses along the tops of my shoulders. The answering rock of his hips into mine sent a thrill through me—he was hot, hard, and hungry, as he was every morning. Heat spiraled through my body as he stroked and kissed, teased and played, and I clenched the sheets, resisting the urge to buck him off so that I could move things along faster.
Giving someone your back when you were on the ground—or in this case, on a magnificent, four-poster king-sized bed with satin sheets—was pretty much the worst thing you could do. It was an extremely tough position to get out of, even if you were stronger than the other person. I would have never assumed such a position with a casual lover, never mind an enemy.
But Iannis wasn’t my enemy, though I’d considered him as such when we’d first met.
He was my friend. My lover. My future mate.
When he finally turned me over, finally slid himself inside me and joined us as one, the gasp of pleasure that sang through the air came from both of us. Sometimes, we played rough, rocking the heavy bedframe as we tangled ourselves up in each other, pulling hair and nipping at sensitive spots on damp skin. But this morning, we went slowly, drawing as much pleasure and enjoyment from each other as we possibly could. I lost myself in shimmering violet eyes, threaded my fingers through dark, cherry-wood hair, and savored each kiss from his full, wickedly talented lips.
“I’m not sure I’m ever going to get used to this,” I murmured afterward, my head nestling against his hard chest as I curled into his arms. Closing my eyes, I greedily inhaled his scent—a combination of sandalwood and magic that never failed to fill me with warmth.
“Good.” He stroked my hair with one hand, gently squeezed my ass with the other. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to get bored.”
I lifted my head to look him in the eye. “I’m more afraid that you’d get tired of me,” I said, and my chest tightened a little at the admission. I knew Iannis loved me—he’d more than proved that—but he was centuries old, and part Tua, a long-lived, practically immortal race of beings. I couldn’t help but worry that to him, what we had would turn into the blink of an eye in his long life, to be swept away as he turned toward something, or someone, new.
His eyes darkened as he read the thoughts flitting through my head—I wasn’t great at hiding my emotions. To him, I was probably an open book. “I could never get enough of you,” he assured me, lifting his hand so he could stroke my cheek. He kissed me, then added, “And there’s no chance of us growing complacent, not with your talent for getting into trouble.”
“Hey!” I smacked at his chest, a grin tugging at my lips, and he laughed. “If that’s the case, then I’ll make sure to go out of my way to find trouble. You’ll never know a moment’s peace.”
“Is that not what you do already?”
Growling, I started tickling his ribs. In the next second, we were tangled up in the sheets again, rolling around on the mattress and howling with laughter. Who knew that the great and powerful Lord Iannis had such a basic weakness? And that I, of all people, would get close enough to actually exploit it? The stern, forbidding expression he wore in public was gone as he slid on top of me—his cheeks were glowing, his eyes sparkling. His white, even teeth flashed as he gave me one of the widest grins I’d ever seen from him.
“I have you now,” he growled playfully, leaning in to nip at my collarbone. A spark of heat lit inside me, and I arched against him.
A bell rang, interrupting what would have been our second round, and I grumbled a little. But my stomach grumbled louder, signaling it wanted breakfast, so I held back further protests as Iannis rolled off me and reached for the blue robe hanging on a hook by the bed.
“Wait here while I let him in,” he warned, disappearing into the living room of his suite.
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” Sighing, I sat up and ran my hands through my mess of curls. My eyes wandered around the bedroom as I listened to Iannis open the door to the server. It was twice the size of my own bedroom, with a high ceiling, extensive wooden paneling, and a custom, matching wooden four-poster bed. Unlike the blue and gold that dominated his sitting area, study, and office, his bedroom was done in dark gr
eens and browns—masculine but earthy colors. Potted plants sat in the corners, a partitioned wall with a fireplace separated a small sitting area from the bed, and double doors off to the side led out to a private balcony that could be viewed through a large picture window.
On the opposite side of the bedroom, next to the sitting area, the wooden paneling cleverly disguised a door that opened onto a secret passage connecting my new bedroom suite—conveniently located in the west wing—to Iannis’s. Even though I retired to my own rooms at the end of each day, I always woke up in his.
Hopping off the bed, I snagged a white robe hanging on the wall and shrugged it on, then sauntered out into the living room. The server was gone, and I eyed the cart he’d left next to Iannis’s dining table, piled high with eggs, potatoes, sausage, bagels, and other breakfast foods.
“Don’t you think he knows he’s feeding more than one person every time he comes up here?” I asked as I sat down across from Iannis. I picked up the fancy ceramic plate from the table and began heaping food onto it. “I highly doubt you were eating all of this for breakfast on your own.”
“Of course he knows,” Iannis said mildly as he buttered his bagel. “The palace staff will have guessed my ulterior motive behind moving you to the west wing as well.” He smirked a little, then took a bite of his bagel. “But appearances must still be kept up. We are not married yet, Sunaya, and we cannot publicly flaunt convention.”
“Right.” I pressed my lips together, then picked up my fork and stabbed at a potato. “Why do engagements have to take so long, anyway?”
Iannis arched a brow at me over his cup of coffee. “I thought you were happy with the idea of a long engagement.”
I scowled. “I was, because I didn’t think it would be good to rush into the whole marriage thing.” Truthfully, I needed more time to get used to the idea. Marriage was forever, a huge commitment even when I didn’t consider Iannis’s lifespan, which would likely be significantly longer than the three hundred or so years I could hope for. “But even though we’re engaged, we still have to skulk around. It’s starting to grate on me.” Secrecy and discretion in relationships wasn’t really something I was used to as a shifter.
Iannis’s expression tightened, and he set down his coffee cup. “I don’t know what more you would have me do, Sunaya. I am still the Chief Mage, and I am supposed to set a good example. I must follow the rules, at least in public.”
“I know.” I softened my voice as a pang of guilt hit me—I was being unfair. “It’s just… frustrating.”
Iannis nodded. “Why don’t we eat?” he suggested, picking up his fork and knife. “We can talk after you’ve gotten some food into you.”
I did as he suggested, digging into the mountain of food I’d piled onto my plate. Even pacing myself, I still polished off my food before Iannis, and was well into my third helping by the time he reached for more. Shifters relied on super-fast metabolisms for our healing powers and strength, so we required much more fuel than the average person.
“Feeling better?” Iannis asked, a hint of amusement in his tone as I leaned back in my chair with a sigh.
“Much.” I patted my belly, then allowed myself a few moments to savor the sensation of being full before I sat up again. “Now tell me why mages have to have long engagements.”
“Traditionally, a marriage between mages isn’t just the joining of two lives, but an alliance between families. There are agreements to be negotiated, contracts to be drawn up, reviewed, and signed. That process should not be hurried, to avoid later complications. But more importantly, the engagement period is meant to ensure that mages do not rashly enter into an eternal, unbreakable commitment. A full year’s betrothal gives time for either family, not to mention the bride or groom, to change their minds. The contracts are legally and magically binding only when the marriage ceremony is complete and the marriage is consummated. Until then, they can be cancelled even if both sides have already signed and agreed.”
“Huh.” I pursed my lips together as I thought about that. “But why does this apply to us? You and I aren’t involving our families.”
“Not if we can help it,” Iannis said, frowning. “My father has already passed, and my mother is content to let me make my own decision. However, if your father gets wind of our betrothal, he could impede our union. I would prefer to have the ceremony over and done with to avoid such a possibility, but alas, we cannot.”
“Well, that’s just lovely,” I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. “And yet, despite the fact that we’re engaged and my father could appear on the scene at any moment, you still don’t want to tell me who he is.”
“It is better that you not know,” Iannis said firmly. “It could lead to all kinds of complications, and only cause you needless pain. If anyone should contact you claiming a relationship of any kind, you must play dumb and demand proof, then contact me immediately. We cannot take chances with this.”
“Yes, sir.” I saluted, and Iannis frowned at me. But before he could say any more, the phone sitting on the side table next to the couch rang.
I cocked an ear to listen as Iannis took the call. It was Dira, the Guild receptionist, relaying an urgent message from the Minister to call him as soon as possible. Well, that was the end of breakfast, then. There would be no more discussion about my father when Iannis’s mind was on Federation business. Resigned, I rose from the chair and headed toward the bedroom.
“Wait,” Iannis called as he hung up the phone.
“What—” I began, but he cut me off, pressing me into the wall as he kissed me deeply. Ever since he’d revealed to me that he had super speed, he used it to surprise me at every opportunity. His dark, exotic flavor filled my mouth, overlaid faintly by expensive coffee, and hunger ignited in my lower abdomen, eclipsing my anger.
“I love you,” he murmured softly, his warm breath tickling my face as he ran his fingers through my hair.
“And I love you,” I said, the words leaving my lips in a resigned sigh. No matter our arguments or disagreements, I did love him, and I wouldn’t withhold that just because I was angry.
“Good.” He kissed my forehead, and then he was gone, leaving his robe behind in a gust of wind as he shot through the bedroom and into the shower.
I snatched the robe out of the air, pressing it to my face so I could inhale his scent. And then I left, allowing the blue silk to flutter to the ground as I went in search of answers.
2
I took the secret passageway back to my suite, which was only three rooms away from Iannis’s. The bedroom wasn’t much different from the one I’d had back in the east wing—in fact, Iannis had moved all the same furnishings into it since I’d liked them so much—but I now had my own private bath, and a sitting room I could use to entertain guests if I ever had any.
I tugged off my robe and dumped it into the laundry hamper that the Palace staff emptied every day, then sauntered into the marble-tiled bathroom and took a long shower. I stood beneath the hot spray and closed my eyes, allowing myself time to think about my conversation with Iannis.
Truthfully, I was conflicted about the whole engagement thing. I hadn’t wanted to rush into marriage, but I also hadn’t wanted to skulk around, hiding our intimate relationship as if what we were doing was dirty and wrong. The sheer joy and pleasure I’d experienced over the past few days felt more than right—it was perfect, and I wanted it to last forever.
But, of course, forever meant marriage. And the idea that my father, a man who didn’t know or care for me, could potentially swoop in and take it all away, was frightening. It was little wonder Iannis wanted to keep me away from my father, in light of the fact he’d been considering the possibility of marriage for some time.
Isn’t knowledge power, though? I asked myself as I lathered my arms and legs with fragrant soap. I’d always considered it better to be forewarned than taken by surprise, and I didn’t see why this situation would be any different. Yes, under the circumstances, it would be
foolish to seek my father out and announce I was his daughter. But that didn’t mean I shouldn’t find out who he was. Surely, there was a way to do so discreetly, without alerting him.
I’ll ask Janta to help me, I decided, switching off the hot water. Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a fluffy towel and dried off. Janta Urama, the head librarian of Solantha Palace, had been more than helpful in tracking down the Benefactor, the powerful mastermind and financier of the Resistance. With any luck, she would prove equally resourceful in the quest to determine my parentage. Based off past I experience, I could trust her not to tell anyone else whatever she might discover.
Clean and dry, I made my way into my walk-in closet and perused the selection. Since nearly all my possessions had been destroyed when the Resistance set fire to my apartment, I’d ordered a brand-new wardrobe. These clothes were much nicer than anything I’d ever owned before, and yet the gold I’d spent on them was only a drop in the bucket compared to the treasure I’d brought back with me from the pirate island I’d been stranded on. I had new leather jackets and pants, jeans, tops in a variety of fabrics and colors, more shoes and boots than I could count, and even a selection of dresses. Iannis had strongly suggested I order robes as well, but I’d pointedly ignored him—I may have taken Resinah’s advice to embrace my mage heritage, but I still had no desire to dress in boring robes. And besides, I was still an apprentice, which meant that on most occasions, I’d only be allowed to wear those ugly, dun-colored robes anyway.
Of course, once I finished my apprenticeship, I would be required to wear robes on formal occasions. But considering the average apprenticeship took ten years to complete, and that my shifter upbringing and late start put me way behind, I didn’t see any need to cross that bridge prematurely. Right now, I was still primarily an enforcer, and I would continue to dress like one.