Magical Lover (2 page)

Jamie’s lungs kicked in and breath wheezed through his lips. He stared at his hand then smiled at her.

“Think you can teach me that one?”

Keara sat back on her butt, rocking onto her back so she lay beside the boy. Healing, even easy healing like Jamie’s hand, exhausted her. At least he hadn’t died.

She gathered just enough strength to reach over and whap his arm with the back of her hand. “That’s for scaring the breath out of me. What if you had died?”

“You would’ve healed me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I know. You’re good. I watch you.”

“Don’t say things like that. People wouldn’t like it.”

“I know that, too. I’m smart. I know what you are also. Boys see things, you know.”

Keara turned her head to him. For once he met her gaze without being prodded. How did he know? She had healed him and this wasn’t the first time, but the rest of it?

“And just who do you think I am?”

“You’ll see. I’m figuring you’ll find out soon. You’d know too if you’d bother to look. Adults don’t always see things like they should. That’s why I’m glad I’m a kid. I see all things.”

“So you’re the Goddess, eh?” Keara put a hand on his stomach and tickled, producing giggles.

“Stop that!” He shoved at her hand. “Don’t be silly. Know what else I know? Lord Simon wants you for some reason.”

She knew this too. And a strange thing that was. Why would a noble like Simon bother with a shop owner like her? It just wasn’t done. Which was probably why so many tongues wagged over the matter. Simon was a nice enough looking man, but something lurked under the surface that gave her chills.

A very bad kind of chill.

She swore the man was slightly mad, just like his father before him. The old man went completely crazy before he died, screaming about men turning into large scaly beasts. Bizarre.

On the other hand, if she married Simon the townspeople would have no choice but to respect her. She could keep her shop, have the priests stop preaching against her sinful coloring, and be part of the town.

She considered it for all of two seconds. Was societal acceptance worth being chained to a crazy man she didn’t love?

She wasn’t that desperate...yet.

“Jamie, how on earth would you know what Lord Simon wants?”

He shrugged, his small shoulders flattening grass as they moved. “I told you. I see things. Don’t fall for him, all right? He’s not normal in the head.”

“Isn’t that the truth? Thanks for the advice. I think I’ll lie here for a bit. I’m tired. Don’t go wandering off and no more trees.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever makes you happy.”

Keara closed her eyes, ignoring Jamie’s words and their implied meaning. Hopefully whatever mess he got into while she rested wouldn’t be too bad. Boys.

****

“Eww. This town smells like raw sewage. Why would anyone want to live here?” It had been a night and half-a-day and the smell remained strong. Thoren looked around at the stone buildings, teetering in disrepair. The breeze on his sweaty brow felt cool, but the air reeked of sewage and who knew what else.

Enar shrugged. “How would I know the ways of superstitious townsfolk? You’d think they’d never seen a traveler with the way they look at us. The only thing semi-decent in this town is the women and even that’s a stretch. And to make matters worse, although how they can get worse with no decent women, there is no evidence of a Halfling child like you claim you sense.”

Thoren looked at his best friend. Enar’s blue eyes twinkled. In this backward town of short people, both men stood out like a ray of sunlight through dark clouds. Muscles rippled under black leather, generating stares in the sea of brown cloth. Assessing glances of women. Hostile snarls from men. A seasoned spy didn’t feel fear, but he’d be glad when they left this place.

“Just because you can’t sense another’s magic, doesn’t mean the child isn’t here.” Thoren wrinkled his nose as a rank town specimen brushed against him in the crowded lane. “Some of us have better noses than others.”

“Well, it doesn’t take a good nose to know this town has sewer problems. The stench is giving me a headache.”

“Didn’t the apothecary give you something for that last night?”

“Oh, yes. I take back what I said about the women here. At least one of them is attractive. Not interested in me, though. Maybe you’d be more her type.”

“I’m not interested in non-Draconi females. What would possess a male to come to Stenchville for a woman? What’s wrong with our own females? I just don’t get it. Although I’m glad someone did. If not for the mystery male, I’d still be hiking around Draconia making Father happy.”

“Balthor wouldn’t be the only one happy.”

“Who says I’d invite you along?”

Enar’s eyes popped wide. “What? Deny me my only pleasure in life?”

“Females are not the only pleasure in your life.” Thoren gestured to the broadsword hanging down Enar’s back. They both enjoyed fighting, although Enar’s sword skills outweighed Thoren’s. Not that he minded. After all, lobbing magical energy balls at his opponent beat learning swordplay. “A sword is a sword no matter how it’s used.”

“You got me there.”

People ran past them, jostling each other as they raced down the small lane.

“Wonder what’s going on?” Maybe the townsfolk finally decided to do something about the clogged sewers.

Enar shrugged as murmurings from a restless crowd drifted down the lane. No sense in joining a riot that didn’t apply to them. It sounded like the whole town came out for a shouting match. As Thoren started to turn down a side street, he heard a panicked female voice shout above the ruckus.

“I will not take you!”

The riot just became his problem. Something in that voice ignited a desire to protect her. He had no choice but to shove his way through the throng of people.

“Hey, it’s not our...bugger it. Don’t wander in there without me.” A rush of air announced Enar stepping behind him.

Not that he needed the Watcher. He was a male on a mission to defend that female.

What in the Goddess’s name was he thinking? Enar ran into him as Thoren stopped mid-stride. This was not his fight. These were not his people.

“I said I will not take you. Let me go!”

And the choice was taken from him. Her voice struck a chord inside him, banging around, charging his anger. Fight and protect. Kill and save.

“What are you thinking?” Enar grabbed his arm and Thoren whirled, his lips pulled back, teeth exposed.

Enar dropped his arm and took a step back. “All right. Knock yourself out, dragon.”

Two shoves later Thoren stood at the edge of the crowd, looking at the female and a man standing in the middle of the town square. The man faced them. Tall for one of these townsfolk, he wore a clean, brown tunic embroidered in gold. Black pants tucked into leather boots that reached mid-calf. His brown, limp hair hung to his shoulders. Brown eyes narrowed on his prey as a menacing smile played across his features. One hand grasped the female’s arm.

The female faced away from Thoren. She also wore a brown tunic and black pants, her tunic belted about her waist, a variety of small pouches hanging from the belt. Braided red hair streamed down her back, stopping short of her waist. Her body strung taut as a bow, as if waiting for a strike, verbal or physical.

She needed him. She needed him to save her. She needed him to obliterate the man. Why he felt this way was the mystery of the day. The man needed to be introduced to vengeance dragon-style.

Right when he started to make his move, the voice of a boy shouted over the roar of the crowd.

“She said, leave her alone!”

“Step back, Jamie. Now!”

The female turned toward the boy, gesturing with her hand for him to move back. The boy—who Thoren guessed to be only ten—didn’t budge. Stood stock still, fists balled at his sides, jaw thrust forward, a lot of stop-messing-with-her on his face.

The boy was two steps away from getting knocked down by the man in the square, when a woman of pale beauty jerked him back. An ice goddess. White blond hair surrounded a pale face, the only colors bright blue eyes and ruby red lips.

Thoren heard Enar gasp and mutter, “Exquisite.”

Was his friend actually showing an interest in the blond woman during a time like this?

Thoren growled at Enar. Growled? Since when did he growl at his best friend? What was it about the redheaded female that made everything inside him turn into a dragon on the warpath?

The man laughed. “Yes, Jamie, step back. This has nothing to do with you. Not now, anyway.” He smirked at the red-haired female as she yanked out of his grasp. She tried to back up, only to run against the teeming mass of townsfolk. She turned, as if to judge the distance she had left and her gaze slipped by Thoren, not noticing him.

But he noticed her and fury ran through his muscles, charging him, demanding a fight between him and her captor.

Steam rose in the back of his throat, his fists cranked into hard knots as he spat out a small plume of smoke.

“What in the name of the Goddess do you think you’re doing?” Enar hissed. “It’s just some townswoman. Some
non-Draconi
townswoman.”

“Can’t you see what she is?”

Enar raised an eyebrow. “The apothecary?”

“Start thinking with the head on your shoulders and look at her.”

“She’s a witch the priests warned you about,” the soon-to-be-dead man yelled, his cry egging on the crowd. They responded with a deafening yell. “But as my wife she will put the mantle of a witch aside. Ignore her denials to have me and you will no longer have to deal with the witch for she will have her magic purged when she joins with me.”

The crowd hooted and hollered, clapping loudly. The man grabbed her left arm, in the process shoving up her sleeve, displaying the Draconi mark for all to see. Delicate, spindly lines curved around her forearm, stemming from the dragon’s tail centered halfway between wrist and elbow.

“By the Goddess, why didn’t the Council know about her?” Enar gasped, now clearly in line with the rescue plan.

The man holding the female ran his finger over the mark, smirking as she gasped and tried to pull away. A red cloud dotted Thoren’s vision and he swallowed the steam threatening to come out his ears.

“Does anyone have any objection to me taking this woman?”

Thoren saw her bent over, gasping for air, and he knew pain shot through her body from the bastard’s touch on her mark. Red haze glittered at the periphery of his vision and he stepped forward. This time Enar didn’t bother to restrain him.

“I object. The female belongs to me. I will take her.”