Fool's Gold: a Fantasy Romance (Daughter of Fortune Book 2)

by Vivienne Savage

  Elora leaned back in her seat. “Then you need not look far, my dear, as your mother left one in my care.”

  Rosalia blinked. “How did you—?”

  “You’re the spitting image of Dahlia. Besides, no matter how you try to hide that aura, I can recognize a Daughter of Fortune when one stands in front of me. Whoever taught you to conceal it did well, I suppose. When last I saw you on stage, you were shining as bright as the sun. In time, you’ll learn to smother it entirely.”

  Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, Rosalia nodded. “Daughter of Fortune?”

  “A descendent of the Islenja. As all djinn are the daughters of Islena or Inja, you are also counted among their number.” Elora glanced at Bonare, whose eyes had practically doubled in size. “I’m disappointed you didn’t notice, but you’ve had distractions of your own.”

  The words doused Rosalia in cold water, chilling her to the bone as effectively as Bonare’s freezing spell. She shivered. Deep down, she’d known the mythology, but she’d never believed it to be true.

  “But I’m only half-djinn.”

  “But still the daughter of a demigoddess. Perhaps in time, my child, that half won’t be as insignificant as it seems to you now.” Elora rose and beckoned Bonare and Rosalia to follow her. They moved into another chamber, and a snap of the older woman’s fingers sent sparks of light zipping to every candle and sconce in the room.

  A subtle hum filled Rosalia’s ears and tingled over her arms, a whisper of magic calling to her from every corner, from the many shelves and each display case. When she shivered, Bonare set one hand against the small of her back.

  “Are you all right?”

  “There’s so many magical items here,” Rosalia replied. “I can feel them.”

  “I am the keeper of many dangerous artifacts, though the most dangerous of all in my collection would be the Soul of Avarae.”

  Rosalia didn’t need to follow the sorceress’s gesture to the glass-encased shelf holding a trillion-shaped gem. It emitted an ethereal silver light, like the moon carved into a triangular stone.

  “Alone and without the mirror, the stone is far from harmless, for it contains a sliver of Avarae’s might. It is her gift of sorcery and love for all magicians, a concentrated drop of divine power given physical form. With it, a wizard would have unlimited vitality and mana. Absolute power.”

  Bonare stared at it and edged closer. “If it’s so powerful, why don’t we use it to overthrow the king?”

  “Who would you nominate to perform such an honor, Bonare?”

  He leaned forward, staring at it. “I don’t know. You perhaps, Your Grace. After all, you are the strongest of us. No one at Sandfire Palace would be able to stand against our might if you had unlimited mana at your fingertips.”

  “A beautiful sentiment, my friend, but irresponsible, as power of this magnitude carries a heavy price. Addiction. Civilizations have risen and fallen since these stones came to our world, and I could not say with absolute confidence I would not become a worse dictator than King Gregarus.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he insisted.

  Rosalia’s heart did a weird double-thump in her chest. She kneaded above it with her knuckles, frowning.

  “It touches me to have your trust, but no, this gift from our goddess of magic is not meant for me. I do not wish to see myself become the next villain.”

  A sudden weight lifted from Rosalia’s chest when Bonare relented and stepped back. The closer he’d leaned toward the stone, the more it had pounded. “What’s going to happen now?”

  “King Gregarus must know he can’t dismantle the Mages Guild. There are a dozen masters, twice as many instructors, and at least two hundred students of magic ready to fight from every window of this tower. But if he acquires the stones to power the Devil’s Eyeglass, that won’t matter.”

  “He means to take on his opponents with an army from Gehenna.”

  Elora’s lips pressed into a tight line. “That’s what we believe. And that is why we protect the Soul of Avarae. The mirror will never pose a true threat as long as we hold the stone.”

  “How confident are you of that?”

  “Ninety percent,” the old woman said. She chuckled, a dark and humorless sound, before striding for the door. Rosalia and Bonare followed a few steps behind. “The Devil’s Eyeglass is no doubt secured at Sandfire Palace and protected by Caius. You’d have to infiltrate the palace to recover it, and that’s no easy thing.”

  Bonare snorted. “She snuck into my quarters through the window. Not so impressive a feat now that I know she’s half djinn.”

  “She must have avoided every ward engraved in the stone. If it had been anyone else, she’d have been reduced to a cloud of blood-scented mist.” When Rosalia shuddered, Elora laughed. “You will exit through the proper doorway this time, my child. Have no fear of meeting those wards again. Consider this tower and all who dwell within it your friends.”

  “Thank you. What can you tell me about his spymaster?” Rosalia asked.

  “Caius does not work well with others.” Elora’s mouth pressed into a tight line, displeasure wrinkling her eyes. “I regret every ounce of attention I ever gave him. Every lesson as my apprentice.”

  “Your apprentice?”

  The older woman nodded. “He was my apprentice and my responsibility during the time when my predecessor ruled this tower. He seemed harmless enough at first, a troublemaker who delved into mysteries above his skill level, always sneaking into the forbidden sections of the library to study ancient lore prohibited to anyone but our most advanced students.”

  “I was a youngling then. Barely learning the basics,” Bonare muttered. “But I remember rumors circulating about an older resident who snuck into the Athenaeum and got expelled for it. It wasn’t until a few years ago when I realized that former student became the king’s spymaster.”

  “Once the weak-minded learn that kind of information, it isn’t easily forgotten. This is why only magicians of your level and above are allowed supervised study of the Black Arts. At this point in your career, we know you possess the integrity to uphold our laws.”

  “I need to find the other Legacies before him, but I don’t even know where to begin.”

  Elora flashed her an apologetic smile. “She spoke nothing of it to me. Bonare, see to it that Rosalia has anything she needs. Tools, elixirs, potions, anything. No object is too valuable.”

  “All right.”

  As she passed from the enchantress’s personal suite into the exterior parlor, Rosalia froze. “I never mentioned my name to you, but you knew it.” She glanced over a shoulder to see keen eyes watching her and was once again struck by how familiar they seemed.

  “Ah. Perhaps I know your name from observing your performances on the stage.” When Rosalia didn’t buy it, merely watching the old woman, Elora gave a sad smile. “I wouldn’t believe that either. As I said, I knew your mother, child, and I also know you. After all, I delivered you twenty-three years ago.”

  11

  Honorable Intentions

  Xavier awakened to the odor of thieves’ soot, smoke, and magic nearby. Associating all three smells with Rosalia, he emerged from the treasure pit to find the thief standing on the catwalk between both wide trenches with her hands on her hips. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, and it took every ounce of his control not to nuzzle his snout against her stomach and breathe her in.

  “Yes?” he asked quietly. “How may I help you?”

  Her mouth flattened into a severe frown. “I wanted to report in about tonight’s findings, but I can come back at another time, if you’d like.”

  “No. I’ve been tossing and turning, so to speak.” He’d stirred twice to see if she’d returned but nodded off again to avoid giving in to his protective nature and hurrying off to the mage tower. She’d only hate him more if he came flying to her rescue, the trust between them thoroughly shattered.

  And he had no one to blame but himself.

&nbs
p; “Oh.” She nibbled her lower lip and dipped her chin, but her eyes remained on his and a deep furrow creased the space between her brows.

  “Your findings?” he coaxed, on the figurative edge of his seat.

  “I located the Soul of Avarae and met High Enchantress Elora. My mother gave it to her to protect.”

  Xavier crawled from the pit and shook out the coins wedged beneath his scales. A few went skittering away and rolling over the stone. “Ah. That’s good news. What about the other gems?”

  “She didn’t know anything about where my mother took them, but she pledged the guild’s help.” A pause hung between them before she added, “Her nephew was one of the Initiated.”

  “Double-dipping?”

  She nodded.

  “I didn’t think there were too many mages who practiced both skill sets these days. That’s a true rarity. By your use of past tense, would I be right to assume he was murdered by the guard?”

  “Yes. While protecting a fellow thief. She’s devastated, of course, and promised to do whatever she can to help us in our quest.” Rosalia studied him, lifting her face to gaze into his eyes. The perplexed wrinkle remained across her forehead. “Well. I won’t keep you. Good night, Xavier.”

  “Goodnight.” She’d been curt and brief with him since reading the diary, and he hated himself for penning his thoughts on paper as much as he hated the desperation he’d conveyed. Could he blame her for believing childbearing had become her greatest value to him instead of the friendship he’d hoped to cultivate from the moment she entered his shop?

  Before Xavier could sink into the coin pit again, a jingling bell tinkled from the adjacent chamber. Rosalia paused and glanced over a shoulder.

  “What was that?”

  “My shop door. It means the Clockwork Emporium has an after-hours visitor of the legitimate sort. Someone who knows how to ring a bell and visit an establishment the legal way.” He canted his head at Rosalia and held eye contact, but instead of puffing up in a fit of indignation, she actually laughed.

  Gods, the sound of it was the voice of angels, and he’d have given his entire fortune to hear it one more time.

  A warm smile remained on her face afterward. “Should I lurk nearby in case it’s the royal guard?”

  “No. If it is the royal guard or city watch here to question me, I’ll handle it with a bit of natural charm and send them on their way.”

  “And if our cover is blown?”

  “I’ll handle it by other methods of a more…fiery sort, in which case I prefer you remain here in safety.”

  Xavier shed his dragon body and donned the clothing nearby, aware of Rosalia’s lingering attention, her gaze warmer than the ever-burning torches nearby. His entire body flushed with heat and—

  Godsdammit. He had a very male response to her open appreciation, and his cock became the approximate stiffness of a steel pipe. He grunted and fastened his shirt buttons, thinking of gears and clockwork to tamp down the eager erection she’d inspired with only a look. Gears, bolts, and cogs. Wire strands and metal plates. Scalding steam, copper spools, rivets.

  Those things and more occupied his thoughts until relief eventually came, and not a moment too soon. With his arousal partially resolved, he hurried past her and toward the hoard entrance while muttering the incantation to operate his clockwork automaton. Several floors above his lair, the thing would stir from bed and shamble to the rear office where Xavier would take its place aboveground.

  A moment after the secret tunnel closed behind his invention, he ventured to the storefront and peered through the peephole to find a dark-haired man in a tidy naval uniform, pins and medals on his barrel chest gleaming in the stoop’s pale lantern light.

  Xavier opened the door. “Good evening. May I help you…” He squinted at the bars on his visitor’s shoulders. “Captain?”

  The man glanced to his left and right, licking his lips nervously. Outside, the streets appeared vacant, the surrounding area of the Twilight Gardens rarely frequented after midnight, as the late-night cordial houses were at the other end of the road. “Name’s Adriano, and I’d like to speak with you in private about a mutual interest in gardening. Roses in particular.”

  “Oh? I’ve never—” Gardening. Roses. It clicked before he finished the sentence, then he stepped back and swept his arm toward the open space behind him, urging the man to enter.

  Once the door shut, Xavier led Adriano to the rear office, disabling the appropriate wards as they went to avoid blasting his midnight guest out of his fancy military boots. He gestured to a chair.

  “Have a seat.”

  Adriano glanced over the formal office space. “Is it safe to speak here?”

  “There’s nowhere safer at the moment, save perhaps the Mages Guild. What brings you here?”

  “I want to know what your intentions are with my friend. I want to know if you’re an honorable man.”

  Xavier blinked. “What?”

  “She stole an important artifact from you, and now you’re helping her. Clearly, your vault keeper rescued her from execution—I thank you very much for that, sir—but you’ve gone above and beyond what’s necessary. What are your intentions for her after this mess is finished?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  Red flushed over Adriano’s face, surging from the collar of his immaculate white coat and flashing to the tops of his ears. “It’s my business when Rosalia’s hurting,” he retorted, words a low growl. “You lied to her. Hurt her. I don’t give a damn if you’re a powerful mage. If you’re using her—if you’re stringing her along to get what you want—I will make you answer for it, elf.”

  Tension sliced into Xavier’s bones and irritation sizzled down his spine. He could eat this man, or better yet, incinerate him with a snap of his fingers and Rosalia would be none the wiser. Rage and feral instinct licked at the edges of his mind, urging him to transform, to exhale fire and devour his competitor despite the narrow quarters. Then all of his scorn dissipated because what wounded him the deepest was that Rosalia had confided in someone else.

  He had hurt her.

  Xavier’s shoulders drooped, but something told him Adriano could hold a few secrets more. A man willing to threaten a sorcerer for a friend was a man who could be trusted. “I am not using her. Contrary to whatever she feels, using Rosalia is my last intention. I know I fucked up, and I give you my word as a man, that using her is the furthest thing from my mind. I want…I just want her. No strings attached.”

  A satisfied smile came to the naval captain’s face. “Good. She deserves happiness. Make sure you fix whatever went wrong sooner than later, mate. She’s a tough one. She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

  “I’ve gathered as much. I’m also positive she’d kick your ass if she knew you came to threaten me on her behalf.”

  “She would.” A low chuckle shook Adriano’s big shoulders. “But I actually came bearing more than threats and promises to get myself incinerated in her honor. I have news about where she can find those bloody stones.”

  Xavier’s brows shot up, and an ounce of hope spread warmth through his chest. “Then perhaps she should be present for this meeting. Care for a change in scenery?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Rosalia entered the parlor to find Adriano and Xavier sharing drinks like lifelong pals, the two sitting opposite each other and engaged in eager conversation. It quieted when she entered.

  Adriano raised his glass to her in greeting. “About time you came out.”

  Mouth opening and closing a few times, she stared at one man then the other before she found her voice. She hadn’t told Adriano anything about the refuge, much less who she’d hidden with. “How the fuck did you find me?”

  “Put two and two together. You thought Bane wanted you dead for theft of a dangerous artifact, he vanished a few days, and now you’re creeping around Enimura to retrieve the same object from the people who framed you for a capital
crime.”

  “That’s hardly two and two,” she protested.

  “One and one then.” Adriano shrugged. “Either way, I made an educated guess and here I am with your information. Do you want to know what I discovered or not?”

  “I do,” she gritted out, remembering why she’d beaten Adriano up numerous times during their childhood or snuck itching nettles into his undergarments. She ignored the smile flitting around the edges of Xavier’s mouth and settled in the adjacent chair. “Spill it.”

  “Naval business granted me the rare opportunity to be in Bishop Roma’s company. I took a risk and spoke with him about your issue.”

  Rosalia stared. “What?”

  Adriano held up a hand. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist yet. I believe he can be trusted; more importantly, he’s willing to meet you in private at the Cathedral of Light. You’re to visit him one week from now on Vacheresday, an hour prior to the arrival of the parishioners seeking their morning sermon at dawn.”

  Xavier’s dark brows drew together. “And no sooner than this?”

  “Were he able, he would. Did you not realize the time of year?”

  At first she stared at Adriano, then understanding fell upon her like a thunder bolt. “The Pilgrimage of Saint Vacherro, Keeper of the Lights.”

  Adriano nodded. “And yours truly was chosen as the officer to captain the Devout Radiance, which means I won’t be in the city either. We leave tomorrow at twilight to reignite the beacons of the nine lighthouses.”

  Once a year, an honored naval captain piloted the temple’s personal craft, ferrying the bishop to the nine watch towers along the Saudonian coast to relight the holy beacons. Adriano would have been mad to decline the recognition.

  “A week is a long time.” Anticipation tightened her body and turned her mouth drier than desert sand. “Are you sure he can be trusted?”