by L. R. W. Lee
“I think I’m good.”
Despite the brutal lesson, courtesy of my own magic turning on me, I want to thank Aimil—I’m pretty sure that’s what Nuria called her—properly… in hieroglyph.
Is that a good idea, Pell?
I surprise myself because curiosity about the possibility of speaking hieroglyph without even studying it, rather than fear, fills me even though my magic whupped me upside the head… literally. Imagining the feel of secret magic to be Harpoc having his way with me has shifted my whole perspective.
I sit up slowly.
Nuria raises an eyebrow when I slide my ring off.
More shadows immediately begin drifting off me, but I focus on the healer. “Aimil, thank you for coming so quickly and healing me.”
It sounds like English in my head, but the healer clasps her hands and smiles, then replies, “You are most welcome. I live to comfort and heal, in any way that I’m able.”
I look to Nuria, hardly believing. “Did… did…?”
Both she and the healer burst out laughing.
“Congratulations, you spoke hieroglyph, Pell.” Nuria chuckles.
My eyes go wide, making the pair laugh harder.
Nuria puts a hand on the old female’s shoulder. “Aimil is a healer from Canis galaxy. She possesses healing magic, rather than secret magic, but learned hieroglyph when she came, ages ago.”
The female nods, her silver and black horns bobbing. She’s clearly humble, and I like her immediately. I’ve never had a grandma, but she seems like someone worthy of the title. Plus she reminds me of Mrs. Elide, the group-home worker who found me—the only one who was ever nice to me. She inspired me to dream.
“I hope you don’t need my services again”—she gives me a wink—“but if you do, I’m in the infirmary.”
She’s too cute. I love cute, little old ladies, even if they have eggplant-color skin and horns.
“I’ll remember that, thank you.”
“Well, let’s not keep you. I’m sure you’ve others in need of your ministrations,” Nuria says to Aimil.
The commander holds out an elbow for the healer, and I bolt up with no side effects. “Can I come too, so I know where she’s located? You know, in case.”
Who knows how long I’ll be here, but I plan to stop by and get to know her better.
Nuria tripskips us to the infirmary, which takes all of two seconds, but it beats making Aimil shuffle the whole way.
When Nuria’s dark swirls disappear, I note that a silver-topped table stands as a lone island in the middle of a room whose white walls are lined with shelves crammed with all manner of clear bottles. A colorful assortment of powders are in some and liquids in others. There’s also a variety of tins, no doubt containing more healing agents. A desk sits between two counters against one wall.
Voices draw my attention out the door where two, now three, black robed folks hustle past.
As we turn to leave, Aimil puts a hand up, halting us. She shuffles, stopping in front of me, then puts a purple palm to my cheek and looks me in the eye.
“The Ancient One did well.” She smiles, then pats my face.
I don’t want to be rude, so I do my best to school my confused expression. “Thank you.” I guess?
What’s she saying? What’s it supposed to mean?
Nuria directs me toward the door with a nod.
“Thank you again,” I say, waving.
Aimil just smiles.
We head left, down a wide hallway, past three more similarly outfitted treatment rooms, narrowly avoiding a collision with a group wheeling a gurney toward one of the rooms.
Busy place.
Nuria pushes open the double doors, and we leave the hectic infirmary and head down a more familiar-looking hall. Gray and black marble, polished to a shine, cover the floors, walls, and ceiling. Rose blossoms appear every now and again, connected by that artful depiction of climbing vines.
“Nuria, what did she mean, ‘The Ancient One did well’?” The words tumble from my mouth.
“I don’t presume to know her mind.” But her eyes dance.
I give her a long look. “Then at least tell me who the ‘Ancient one’ is.”
“Ah, right. The Ancient One is the creator of the worlds. I believe you refer to him as ‘god’ on Earth.”
Aimil’s words continue to swirl in my head. This “Ancient One” did something. And it concerns me. The look Aimil and Nuria exchanged, bolts to the forefront of my mind.
“Nuria.”
She looks over at me, as we pass two other beings deep in conversation.
“Did Aimil sniff me, while she was treating me?”
“Sniff? What do you mean?” Her tone stays light, but I swear she swallows.
I mimic the sniffing motion I’ve seen Harpoc do more than a few times, and she cracks up.
“Sorry, but you look like a dog sniffing for a place to pee.”
I laugh, but she hasn’t answered my question. Geez, what is it with beings from this empire?
“Did she?” I repeat.
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but Aimil did what she usually does. She diagnosed and treated you.”
“Does she also usually make pronouncements like that, too?”
“No, she doesn’t.” Nuria shakes her head, but the crooked smile she’s giving me, assures me she’s hiding something.
I frown.
As if that’s such a surprise, Pell.
I know, but…
Maybe let it go for now, but ask again when she’s not expecting.
Mwhahaha. I like the way you think, minion.
Aw… thanks. Love you, too.
I’m really tempting fate, complimenting her so much, in such a short time.
It’s all of maybe five minutes until we step back in the training room, and Nuria says, “That was a good workout, Pell. You made good progress, despite….”
I laugh. “Secret magic kicked my butt.”
“It did.” She grins. I roll my eyes. “Would you like to know what you did wrong, so you don’t repeat the mistake?”
I close the door behind me. “Please.”
“You failed to tell your magic where to converge. Your exact words were, ‘Come. Coalesce.’ Said with the force you used, your magic turned on you, doing exactly what you told it to. But then it got creative.”
“You call that, creative?” I wave my arm.
She laughs. “Yes. Creative secret magic is dangerous secret magic.”
“Well, I won’t do that again.”
“I’m sure you won’t. Now, clean up your magic.” She motions toward the dark wisps still floating about the room.
I remove my ring, then draw it back inside me, enjoying every moment of it, way more than I should.
Nuria hoists her bag onto her shoulder. “I want you to work on keeping your magic inside, even when your ring’s off.”
Aw…. But the feel of it brushing against my body...
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
She escorts me back to Harpoc’s door, then leaves, but my mind won’t let Aimil’s words go.
“The Ancient One did well.”
What did she mean?
Chapter Fourteen
Worry mars Harpoc’s face as the doors to his suites practically fly open and he barrels through, gold and silver eyes searching.
I stand up from the couch, still holding my trashy romance, and he swoops down the steps and envelops me, book and all, in his arms, burying his face in my neck.
My shadows take advantage of the lapse in concentration and wisps erupt from me.
His breathing begins to slow, but he hasn’t moved, he’s just holding me like I might suddenly vanish if he lets go.
“Harpoc?” I enjoy his sweet affection. No one’s ever treated me like he does, but his reaction seems extreme, all things considered.
Maybe this is just how he treats those he cares about, Pell.
Maybe… but….
He eas
es back, still holding me. Only then does my sleeveless, print dress with a slit up the side, as well as my hair, that’s up tonight, register, because he suddenly smiles. “You look very beautiful.”
My cheeks warm, of course they do. Seems they have no other repertoire for his compliments.
“Thank you.” I bite my lip.
“Nuria told me what happened.” He’s still admiring my outfit.
He’s never seen me in a dress, and it’s clear from the hunger in his eyes that he likes what he sees.
“I’m fine. Aimil came.” I free my arms, then toss the book on the sofa and place my hands on his firm biceps.
“I know, but I had to see. I had to hold you.”
I smile. “It’s nice to have someone care about me.”
He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine, and the fairies in my stomach break into dance. Boy, do they. They take up a disco dance as I move a hand to cup his jaw and meet his kiss. The dance gets even more intense as it deepens.
Relief fuels him because the longer our kiss extends, the more the tension in his arms ease and his whole body relaxes against me.
I gasp as a swirl of shadows grabs my attention, stretching behind his head. He eases back, a smile playing on his lips. “What is it?”
I point behind him and he turns, one hand on the small of my back.
“Let me show you what I learned today.” Excitement bubbles up in me, and he chuckles as I step from his arms.
I fumble for my white sandals, quickly slip them on, then step clear of the coffee table, and extend my hands, palms up.
Return to me, I will my shadows.
They comply, surrounding me in a dark cloud that feels amazing as it brushes against me like a rare, friendly cat. My chest feels light. It’s strangely kinky having him watch while my shadows do what they do, with the story I invented.
I let the wisps play for several seconds before I draw them inside. Thankfully, he’s none the wiser as to where my thoughts go.
He saunters over, wagging his brows, and I draw my arms close and hold myself. Or does he?
“Well done. Seems you’ve overcome your aversion to their feel. You enjoyed that, I can tell.” His voice turns seductive.
My damn face burns.
Traitor! Why don’t you just shout my secret from the rooftops?
I scrunch my face, then cover it with a hand.
Just shoot me.
Harpoc snorts, then pecks my knuckles. “Nuria said you moaned when you had your breakthrough.”
Oh, draw and quarter me.
I’ve never felt my face burn hotter.
He’s not stupid. He knows he’s the cause, and he’s loving it.
Arrogant bastard.
My inner minion just clears her throat, saying “I told you so” in not so many words.
I may be immortal, but there’s no remedy for mortifying embarrassment, so I mime waving a white flag, which only makes Harpoc laugh harder.
Ya might want to change the subject. Snark fills my inner minion’s voice, and I growl to myself.
“I… I have a surprise.” I spit the words out.
Mercifully, he stops laughing and raises an eyebrow.
I point toward the kitchen where I laid the beginnings of a peach-color rose petal trail that heads through the dining area and to the sliding glass doors.
“What have we here?” Harpoc takes my hand in his and mounts the steps.
“Portia and I were busy this afternoon.”
He glances over at me, his eyes dancing. “So it seems.”
The sliding glass door opens with a thought from my jester, and I lead him through, following the petal trail. I stop behind the outdoor sectional so he can see what we did.
His eyes open wide as he takes in the peach-petal trail that blends with blue rose petals on the other side of the sectional until it ends at a glass-topped table for two, bedecked in black placemats and more peach and blue rose petals, along with a variety of flickering candles.
“Peach and blue petals. Mmm.”
“Portia was very helpful when I told her what I wanted to do.”
A corner of his mouth hitches. “I’m sure she was. Why do I fear I shall rue the day I told you of your magic?”
I snicker. “I had a grand old time getting to know her this afternoon.”
“That is abundantly clear.” He raises a brow.
“Portia said peach petals symbolize genuineness, sincerity, and gratitude—” I squeeze his hand. “—and blue petals say, you’re extraordinary, wonderful, and unique.”
Harpoc bobs his head.
I drop his hand and turn to face him. “I’m sorry for how I took the news. It wasn’t your fault, but I took it out on you. I’m not making excuses, but it totally caught me off guard…. I… I couldn’t process it.” My thumb brushes the skin on the back of my bare ring finger.
His beautiful eyes go soft and his posture relaxes.
“I’ve always loved my parents despite never meeting them, but them not telling me everything you did…. It seems… mean. To let me think….” I shake my head. My temper’s flaring and I need to quash it before it kills the moment. I close my eyes.
“Apology accepted.”
I open my eyes in time to see Harpoc take two steps, then bend and grab a peach and blue petal, then retreat back to me.
My hair is up tonight at Portia’s suggestion, a little baby’s breath woven in, with one loose curl framing my face on either side.
He tucks the peach petal over one ear and the blue petal over the other. “They coordinate with your dress.”
But the tenderness in his eyes tells me he’s saying so much more—I’m extraordinary, wonderful, and unique, and he’s being genuine and sincere.
I feel tears form and swallow them down. But then I spot a few wisps of magic that manage to escape, and it makes me snort. “I’m so emotional.”
Harpoc laughs as I draw my renegade magic back into myself.
I love the sound of his laughter.
“Shall we?” He extends an open palm, and we head for the table. He pulls out my chair for me, and I award him another point for chivalry, chuckling to myself.
The weather this evening is amazing. The sun is just setting and the air is warming, so my sleeveless dress is comfortable.
He’s been occupied all day, but aside from the shadow of stubble on his jaw, he’s still pristine in his tailored gray shirt and black slacks with not one wavy, onyx hair out of place. It’s not fair.
Portia pokes her head out the sliding door. I take it as my cue and nod her and her team into action. They don’t disappoint, favoring us with wine and an appetizer of pate on toast with caramelized onion, to start. From the expressions on the servers’ faces, I get the impression they’re enjoying this as much as I am. Seems this secretive god keeps to himself and doesn’t entertain much.
Surprise, surprise. My inner minion can’t resist chiming in.
“Nuria said you went to check out another leak,” I say, switching to English to keep our conversation confidential, then take a sip of wine.
“That’s right. Didn’t learn much other than that fire was involved because the village was burned to the ground.” He helps himself to some pate on toast.
“You couldn’t talk to the people?”
“There were no survivors.” He says it too matter-of-factly.
My stomach clenches. “Who did it?”
He swallows. “Could be anyone or anything.”
“How do you know it’s a leaked secret? I mean, couldn’t it have been some crazy lunatics that did it?” I take a pate toast.
“Aura sensed it. She felt a disturbance in secret magic.”
I don’t begin to understand Aura, much less what this “disturbance” she experienced is, so I just nod.
“Unlike when my magic alerted me to your mischief—” He smiles. I raise a brow. “—like usually happens when there’s a leak, nothing triggered mine this time. I’m finding that w
hen she senses a disturbance, but I don’t, it’s an indication of a leak, this time around.”
I tilt my head. “You’ve had others?”
“Upon occasion, it’s usually the being whose secret was sealed, giving it up.” He takes another sip of wine.
“Why would someone spill a secret they’re paying to keep sealed?” I pick up my wine glass.
“Sometimes it’s their conscience forcing it, other times a slip of the tongue in boast. It varies.”
“You said Aura’s a shadow being. Where’s she from?” I sip my wine.
“I’ve no idea. I’ve never seen a being like her. The first time our paths crossed was when I rescued her from a circus at Bimmesh in the Trilem Galaxy where she was being forced to shift shapes as an abdominal act of sorts.”
My mouth drops open, and I wait to hear the story.
I don’t know how bad being forced to shift is, but it’s got to be pretty awful judging by his frown.
But Harpoc’s not free with the details, saying only, “It’s her story to tell.” He takes another pate toast.
“So she has secret magic even though she’s not from here?”
He swallows. “I’d call it secret-ish magic. She has an uncanny ability to sense many kinds of magic, secret magic being one of them.”
“What other kinds of magic can she sense?”
Harpoc grins. “I’ll leave that to you to ask her. I don’t care because secret magic is all that matters here, but she’s alluded to an ability to sense other powers upon occasion.”
“When did these leaks start?” I wipe my mouth on my napkin.
“Around a month ago, right after Glass’s incursion.”
I remember Aura reporting at the Core meeting that a group of Glass’s troops invaded the island and nearly made it here to the castle before being discovered.
Harpoc finishes his wine and waves off an offer of more by a liveried steward.
“You think it has something to do with starting the leaks.”
He nods.
We lean back as servers swap out our plates and cutlery for clean ones, then leave us with what they say is lobster Florentine with béarnaise sauce and a medley of steamed broccoli, asparagus, carrots, and spinach.