So she lifted her arms and spoke-sang the spell, and a gentle breeze wafted tendrils of her hair that had escaped her braid, then died when she laughed, forgetting to hold it. She looked to Jaquar, aching to share her delight in this first real proof of her magic. Bossgond was so old, she didn’t think he remembered what it felt like when magic was new and exhilarating and shooting through your veins.
Jaquar was relaxed, leaning against a tree and smiling at her. Since he also had the old-memory look in his eyes, she guessed that he recalled very well how she felt. Their eyes met. Another moment shared.
A bubble of happiness broke from her mouth in a giggle. She lifted her hand to put it over her mouth at the silly sound, then let her fingers drop. She didn’t need to be anyone except her essential self here and now, did not need to wear a mask, to project an image. So she laughed and stretched her arms high and shouted, “Yes!” Then, “What’s next?” she asked eagerly.
He didn’t move from the tree at the edge of the clearing, staying out of her magical space, giving her room to work. His brows rose. “Now you summon a stronger wind.” His gaze turned considering. He rested his hands on his hips, nodded decisively. “I think you are ready to Call the Zephyr, the wind you will use most often over land to modify weather, and Dance with it.” He swept a judging glance over her and she sensed he was examining the potency and energy of her Power. “Ready?”
Marian shifted, settled into a stance that connected her with the island. “Yes.”
“This is the Zephyr Songspell.” He sang it and the richness of his tenor thrilled her so, that she had to ask him for the first words again. She flushed when she didn’t get it right the first time. Patiently he repeated the words.
She mouthed the whole Song to herself, then looked at him with drawn brows. “Can I alter a few words? They seem a little—” she opened and closed her hands as if trying to grasp something “—masculine. Or something.”
He tilted his head. “Which words do you want to alter? Tell me your Song.”
Running through it again with the minor modifications, she waited, not breathing, until he nodded. “That will do fine. You are a quick study, and progressing, too, if you are shaping the Songs to fit you.”
She nodded in return, licked her lips and loosened her shoulders. Then she raised her arms and sang.
The breeze spun around her, bringing all the scents of spring—the wildflowers as well as the awakening soil, the hints of dark pine and fading blossoms from the forested hills—and she laughed in delight.
“Keep control,” Jaquar instructed, “but provide more energy, more Power, more stirring and push. See if you can have it lift you from your feet. The air is already in motion, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
The thought of it, and her breeze, took her breath from her. She followed directions. In her mind’s eye, she visualized her large yellow mixing bowl, the whisk she used to beat eggs, and applied the memory of physically whipping the eggs to the use of her Power. In an instant the wind increased, battered her, flipped her gown high around her waist, lifted her several feet in the air, spinning her. The little grooming spell on her long hair didn’t survive. Strands lashed her face. Her laugh turned into a shriek, part excitement, mostly fear.
She didn’t know what to do next. The wind was too strong for her.
Hold. Jaquar’s calm voice came in her mind and she didn’t know if he spoke to her or the wind. And still.
The rotation of the air—of her—slowed, and she lowered. She misjudged the height and the moment when the breeze stopped, and landed awkwardly off balance. She took a couple of stumbling steps, windmilled, but fell.
Then she stared at the blue sky and the clouds…clouds she could move and shape. She stretched out her arms—she felt as if she were breaking from a constricting cocoon. Yes. More, more, more!
Jaquar’s shadow fell over her and the man himself looked down with an odd expression on his face, as if he’d been surprised by some new fact that killed a pet theory of his.
Marian laughed. Though handsome as the devil, he was like many other scholars she’d known. Like her.
So she smiled up at him.
His face scrunched further, emotions warring behind his gaze. Then a great breath escaped him. He smiled, sadly, shrugged and offered her his hand.
She took it and welcomed the Song that rang between them. It was all part of the beauty of the day.
With a tug, he drew her to her feet.
And into his arms.
She glanced up at him in surprise and he took advantage of her parted lips to press his mouth on hers…and everything else faded.
The kiss seared through her like a scorching wind, leaving her knees so weak that she leaned against him and learned him in a whole new way—his body in intimate comparison to hers. Taller, broader, stronger.
Harder.
Except his lips—they were soft and intoxicating, nibbling at her mouth just as the sensuality of their Song nibbled at her reason.
For a while she just gloried in the rush of passion, of all the sensations that told her she was strong and womanly and desired. His arm was a solid bar across her back, holding but not forcing. His other hand curved around her hip, then squeezed as he exhaled a small groan. The tip of his tongue penetrated her mouth and she tasted him, exotic and spicy and rich as the darkest bittersweet chocolate. She wanted more of this, too.
The music was nearly overwhelming. If she let it, the melody could sweep away reason and logic and sense. Something that had happened before only at the peak of orgasm. She should be frightened at the undercurrents and riptide of passion, but instead it was tempting, for once in her life, to forget reason and only feel.
His hand went to her bottom, brought her into his body and against his hard erection. A moan of hunger escaped her—she wasn’t positioned quite…right. But his mouth had moved from hers to below her ear, trailing down her jaw to her neck, and her skin heated and her pulse pounded and she thought she was melting into him. The beat of their music wound tight.
A moment later he lowered her to the ground, followed her down to lay beside her, his hand going to her breasts.
The ground was sun-warmed beneath her, but it hummed an alien tune. No familiar Song of Mother Earth, but something odd and thready and broken that jolted her from the haze of passion.
She rolled away. His hand reached, but she kept moving until she was beyond his grasp, beyond his close scent that called to her to mate. Marian forced herself to one elbow, then the other. Panting, she dared not look at him in case she lost all rationality again. The man was definitely dangerous.
He stood and said nothing. She didn’t think he’d offer his hand again, but in case he did, she scrambled to her feet.
She’d known the sexual awareness was there, had half-fantasized about the man, but didn’t realize until now how utterly she could succumb to him. It wasn’t just fighting her own attraction to him, but fighting his great magnetism. And the Song that spiraled between them burst into full orchestral Power when they touched. Too many things were in the “minus” column, but the way her body felt, the way he made her feel beautiful were huge pluses.
Not looking at him, she shook out her dress—unnecessary since there weren’t any wrinkles—to give herself something to do. Then her hands went to her hair and she tunelessly whispered the grooming spell that tucked strands smoothly into a braid. He gazed at her.
“I thought,” he said in a husky voice, “you had a repetition of that vision you received the moment we met so soon after you were Summoned. But that isn’t why you drew away, is it?”
Marian composed her expression and looked at him. His eyes were deep blue, and she thought she could see sparks in them. His lips were more red than she’d seen on any Lladranan. She ran a tongue around her own and found them plump, and the taste of him jolted her once more. She took a step back.
“No.” She wasn’t sure she could explain why the Song of the world of Amee had affected
her so.
“Since we are on the topic of our first meeting, what revelation did you have about me?” His muscles tensed.
“I don’t know,” she said on a sigh, and met his now cool gaze. “Just that you were my doom.” It sounded stupid.
He stood and looked down at her, expression serious. “My emotions were raw at that time.”
She narrowed her eyes. He was still keeping something from her—but what right did she have to demand he tell his secrets? None. They had a lot in common, but they weren’t close friends. Acquaintances, colleagues—with him being the senior—perhaps even bordering on lovers…That might be it! She worked it out in her mind, slowly speaking the logic aloud.
“Are you talking about a bond between us—like I have with Bossgond—that might have harmed me?”
“My emotions were raw,” he said again, with just enough emphasis for her to know that he hated admitting it.
“I’ve learned that bonding with people here can keep me on Amee instead of returning me to Earth during the Snap.” She turned her arm so he could see the two magical tattoos—Bossgond’s yellow bird and Alexa’s jade baton.
Jaquar’s mouth twisted. “You already have two bonds, and you still want to go back to your brother.” He started walking, but not toward his Tower. Another lesson? Perhaps. They were both dedicated scholars.
“Bossgond has been solitary for a long time. He knows how much my brother Andrew means to me and has said he’d help me return—perhaps even come back to Amee if I’m successful in helping my brother. So he won’t hold on to me.” Marian matched steps with Jaquar. “As for Alexa—she’s from Earth so her bond isn’t completely Lladranan. She, too, understands about my brother and wouldn’t keep me here against my will.”
“Sounds logical, but what is logical in theory is not often true in reality,” Jaquar said softly.
Soon they reached a tiny cove surrounded by rock. Narrowing her eyes, Marian thought she could see the coastline of Lladrana—so this was the eastern side of Mue Island.
“You are excellent with Wind—Fourth Degree edging into fifth,” Jaquar said. “Let’s work with Water and Rain. There are several pools in the cove where you can practice tides and surf and wave. The cove itself is an excellent shape and size to develop rain. We won’t work with thunderstorms today—that is best conducted on the far southwest of the island.”
That was a blessing. Marian was beginning to feel tired.
Jaquar gestured to a nearby pool. “Why don’t you start with something simple, like evaporating the water and holding it in the air.”
Marian walked over to the pool, smiling, then stopped. “I can’t.” She shook her head. “There are creatures in this pool. I can’t harm them.” She glanced at Jaquar, to see an approving look in his eyes.
He nodded shortly. “Good. You have a strong ethical basis and a realization that the use of your Power to modify Weather could greatly affect them.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“However, the residents of this particular pool won’t be affected by your evaporation unless you also draw all the moisture out of their bodies—”
Ick.
“—and I’ll be here to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
That’s when the work began.
The water was slippery—as slippery to hold with her mind as it was to cup in her hands. Time and again she slowly lifted the water, to find it escaping her mental grasp before she could fold it into the air. She started enthusiastically with about a pitcherful, but after a couple of hours she was down to a cupful, and of that, could only make a few drops evaporate.
Jaquar was so even-tempered that it grated on her nerves. She sweated in the warm sunlight and he lounged on a rock, writing on a scroll and watching her lack of accomplishment.
Exasperated, she rounded on him—and found his patience was nothing but a pose, his mouth curved in an amused smile.
“What are you laughing at?”
He just raised his brows. “I was wondering if you would prove to be the exception to the rule that Weather Sorcerers are better in one element than others. It would have been trying if you were perfect.”
Marian stopped in midsnarl, relaxed. Then she rubbed her temples. “The water is so damn slippery.”
“It is at that,” he said in suspicious agreement.
“I suppose you have no trouble with water.”
“I had the same amount of trouble with it as you are having when I was a first-degree Scholar.”
She sighed. “A long time ago. So it will take me years to become proficient with it.”
“Probably, even though your Power is strong and you’ve advanced rapidly, this could be your weak point.”
She had others—her need for perfection was one. She grimaced. “I suppose we should call it a day.”
“Yes, I have my own studies this evening, but I will leave you with my entire medical library to peruse.”
That drove every other thought out of her mind. “Great!” Her eyebrows dipped. “Something—I don’t know—something today made me think that there is help for him here.” She couldn’t understand it, but once she spoke the words aloud, she knew it was true. She instinctively believed Lladrana had the answers her brother needed.
Jaquar stared at her thoughtfully. “Everyone has been speaking about you—that would include Alyeka, and she knows your world and ours. Today you called the Wind and the Zephyr. There might have been notes of a tune, perhaps even a melody within the winds that told you this.”
She blinked at him, then wondered if she’d ever understand enough about Lladranan Power.
When they reached Jaquar’s tower, his huge black flying horse was cropping grass near the building. The sight of packs loaded on the volaran made Marian blink. Nothing in the world—in two worlds—looked less like a beast of burden.
It raised its head, tossed its mane and whinnied. Marian heard a faint Heyy in her head, obviously a greeting. It watched her with huge dark eyes, seeming as interested in her as she was in it.
Jaquar strode over to it and stroked its neck, his face softening into a smile. Then he glanced up at Marian. “This is Nightsky. He is honoring me with his companionship.” Jaquar whistled and the packs vanished in a riffling breeze. Marian made an involuntary sound—she’d noticed the hem of one of her gowns and it was hard to see it disappear again. She bit her lip and looked up at the Tower.
“I sent them to my study,” Jaquar said.
She nodded.
“Come meet Nightsky.”
There was nothing she wanted more. She walked slowly to the volaran, held out her hand, fingers down, for him to snuffle. Heyy, he said again, aloud and in her mind. Slowly lifting his muzzle, he sniffed at her hair. Good. It was more of a feeling and an image—of a lump of sugar—than a word.
Marian laughed and Jaquar smiled. “Not many volarans deign to speak to humans. We are honored.” He bowed to the horse, who blew air from his nostrils.
Going to the steed’s other side, Marian stroked him herself. His coat was finer, silkier than a horse’s, feeling almost like tiny feathers, over a strong muscular body. She frowned. “How do they fly?”
She met Jaquar’s eyes.
He raised his brows and smiled. He patted the volaran again. “We have studied that and have come to the conclusion that they are pure magic—Power.”
The volaran felt awfully solid to her. She narrowed her eyes at Jaquar. He shrugged.
“Very well. It’s a combination of aerodynamics—” the word barely translated in Marian’s mind “—and Power.”
“He’s real, physical.”
“Of course.”
Marian shook her head, smiling. Pleasure emanated from the winged horse, wrapping around both her and Jaquar. The smile faded from Jaquar’s gaze, turning into something more—affection, tenderness. They held the stare and the late-afternoon air warmed, almost sparkled, definitely hummed. Added was the resonant note of the nearby Tower and wildness
mixed with Power that was Nightsky.
The soft mood spun between them—affection, respect, this shared moment that contented them both.
A sharp trill of metallic chimes echoed from the open window of Jaquar’s Tower. His expression turned wry. “I’d say that Bossgond sent you a crystal ball and he wants to speak with you.”
Bossgond. Andrew! The old man had promised to keep track of Andrew for her. She ran to the door of the Tower, flapped her hands at Jaquar to hurry him up. It didn’t work. He sauntered to her.
She gritted her teeth, she wanted to hop up and down. “Bossgond may have news of my brother, Andrew!”
Jaquar’s brows winged up. “What?”
“Bossgond has binoculars focused on Earth—Exotique Terre—and my brother.”
“Those binocs of his are trans-dimensional?”
“Yes, yes!” She stepped aside and let him chant the opening spell under his breath. He strode through the corridor and over to the stairs. She hurried after him.
They ascended fast and flung open the door at the top. He stopped and she tried to jostle by him, but the man filled the small doorway. She poked him and he stepped aside, shaking his head and staring.
She followed his gaze. Tuck had unwrapped all the packages and had made a nice nest of her underwear. Marian trapped a groan in her throat, felt her face warm with embarrassment. It wouldn’t be so bad except the garments were like her—Exotique.
The chime came again and she leaped for the small yellow glass ball sitting atop the folds of her maroon dress. The orb was small enough to fit in her hand. She curled her fingers over it and said, “Hello? Hello?” When nothing happened, she shook it, like it was a snow-globe, then stared at it futilely.
Jaquar plucked it from her hand, held it in his palm and tapped his thumbnail against the glass. “Bossgond,” he said.
Bossgond’s face stared out at them, scowling.
“Andrew?” asked Marian.
The old man’s frown deepened. “He looks as usual. Salutations, Marian.”
She let out a relieved breath. “Salutations, Bossgond.” She dipped her head a little in courtesy.
He studied her, face smoothing into his usual grumpy wrinkles. “I need—wanted to ensure that you were well.”
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