Marked For Magic (14 page)

“You’re awake at last, girl?” The dark man hauled himself up, tossed aside the bone he chewed on, and strolled toward her. “Yes, Alton, our little bonus is awake. Come and look. You’ll see just what I mean.”

He yanked her up. The fair-haired man joined him and reached for her chin. She flinched and pulled away to avoid his calloused hand, but he grasped her with strong fingers that dug into her cheek. He tugged her face this way and that, and flicked her hair out of the way with a greasy finger.

“You’re right, about a thousand a go, I’d say, certainly in the first few weeks. You’re sure you brought her straight here. You didn’t stop to play?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Under the cloak, she’s as she came from the water, untouched. Don’t worry about the blood from the whack on her head. I was careful. This little witch, she has the mark, and her cherry. After I knocked her out, I checked. She’ll be a real treasure and make us enough to retire if we feed her and put a pretty gown on her back. But only if she’s a well behaved witch and doesn’t struggle or try to run. If she does try to run, she’ll be a black and blue witch, and a hell of a lot thinner by the time we reach the coast.”

Terror crawled down her spine in cold trickles. The seacoast was days away over the mountains, or so she’d heard.

What do they want with me? What are they doing?

He let her chin go. The fair man stood up, and with no hand from either to support her, she slipped back down, banging her head on the turf. Nausea rushed in a bitter wave from her stomach. She turned her head to the side, bringing up bile and the remains of the bread from the morning.

“You disgusting wench. Corack, move her. Give her water and see she stays quiet.” He twitched the hem of his cloak away from her and strode back to the blanket.

The dark man hauled her up and carried her into a patch of firelight in the small glade. He dumped her on the ground close to where a pair of horses stood, yanked her head up, and held a water bottle to her mouth. She gulped fast before he pulled the bottle away. He grunted and left her.

The taste of vomit still lingered, and her stomach clenched tight. She breathed deep in an effort to still the nausea and control her fear.

This wasn’t happening, and if she shut her eyes tight, she’d wake up in the tower, it would be morning, and she’d share bread and honey with the Mage. His name screeched through her thoughts.
“Thabit.”

“Don’t scream. I know where you are. I can see you.”

She drank in his answer. His words cooled her fears like drops of rain soothed the parched summer earth. Calm descended. She listened for more of his voice, but none came. He couldn’t be here. How could he have caught up with them so fast? It was a dream.

The hoot of an owl was the only normality of the night.

Words of the men beside the fire reached her. Shivers ran over her, even in the heat of the itchy cloak.
“Thabit, speak to me. I’m afraid
.”

“Go to sleep, I will have you free by the dawn. Go to sleep, Sparrow.”
His arms couldn’t have felt safer. A rush of warmth slid over her body and her eyes closed. Sleep came to her as though poured over her head.

* * * *

“Sparrow, wake up, it is time to go home.”

She opened her eyes at his voice, and she shook with surprise because he knelt beside her.

“Sparrow, you are a mess.” He slid the blade of his dagger through the bindings. “I’ll get you out of this.”

Once freed, she shot up toward him. His hands warmed her skin.

“No more. It is over and done.” The murmur of his voice rumbled through her body.

What must he think? She stood naked in his arms.

“I know, and you had better put this on.” He let her go and unwound the blue tunic from his waist. The smile she loved spread to his eyes.

All the time he studied her form, she did not try to hide. If he wanted her now she would be glad of him, never had she needed him more. She sighed when he slid the tunic over her head.

“How did you find me?” Once more, she wrapped her arms around him. The warmth of his body stilled the last of her fearful trembles and created new ones of which she wasn’t afraid.

He brushed her hair back from her face, kissed the tip of her nose. “As Lady Cassandra said, you have a considerable voice. You were not hard to find once you woke. Are you ready to go home?” He lifted her up in his arms, but twisted away to cough, not once, but several times, a deep guttural sound. “Sorry about this.” He put her down and turned away to spit up what looked like a ball of matted bits. “That was unpleasant.”

Confusion filled her.
“Where are the men who captured me? How did you get here? What has happened?”

“Would you be able to ride home do you think?” He kicked over the remains of the fire.

“Tell me what happened?”

“Later. Can you sit alone, or do you wish to ride with me?” This morning, flecks of gold shone in his eyes and they blazed bright.

“I’ll ride with you.”

He walked over to the horses, gave the black one a slap on the rump so it left, and held the head of the brown horse that had carried her here. The animal blew out deep breaths as he murmured to it. He mounted bareback, and the horse trotted toward her.

“Up you come.”

He pulled her up before him and clasped his arms tight around her so she could trace the blue snake tattoos on his wrists. Her body warmed against his, and they rode off from the remains of the camp.

She twisted round to look up over her shoulder. He gleamed like a messenger of the gods. She laid her head back against his chest to listen to his heartbeat and inhale the familiar scent of him. “Now, tell me?” she asked.

“I found you, I killed them, and now we go home.”

“No! That’s not enough. Tell me, how did you get here?”

His embrace tightened around her, and he whispered close to her neck. “I flew.”

“What?”

“I flew. I don’t do it too often these days.” A laugh rumbled from him. “When I first mastered the skill, I flew almost every day, especially evenings. Not so much now. I had forgotten how good it can be.”

“You flew like a bird?”

“Yes, Sparrow.”

She turned back to his wide smile. The breeze blew his long dark hair around him, and her body melted as if she were molded wax. Anxious to enjoy this unusual closeness, she brushed her messy hair back from her eyes, and nestling against him, she waited.

Will he kiss me?

“And those men?” she asked. “Who were they?”

“They died. Hasenite slavers I believe. I had no idea they came this far south. Oh, they wanted you to make them a great deal of coin.” His arms tightened about her again, but no kiss followed his words. “They would have sold your sweet flesh.”

“Did you kill them with your dagger?” No, he couldn’t have used the blade. She’d seen no bodies, only the remnants of the fire and the blankets the pair must have slept in.

“Not with my dagger, but they are dead.”

He coughed again, and she jerked with him.

“I am regretting it now, though.” He bent over almost double, and once more, he spat.

“Are you ill?”

“No, this is simply the after effects of the bird food. In time it will wear off.”

She closed her eyes, delighting in his body so close to hers. Until she understood and pulled away. “You ate them! Gods, Thabit, you ate them!”

“I was hungry. It had been a long flight. They were mice when I did it.” He sounded hurt.

“Mice?”

“Yes. Do you think I would allow them to take you from me and do nothing about it? Mice. Small, nasty looking gray ones, and bloody surprised to be, I can tell you. And no, they did not taste at all good.” His laugh echoed through the morning air.

“So you really can do it?” She’d always assumed his threats of transformation were a joke. She’d have to watch her step. “What kind of bird were you?”

“Last night I was an owl. A tawny—I like them best. I was in the tree across the clearing from you.”

She glanced over her shoulder. The gold flecks had faded from his eyes and the normal, dark green streaks were back. The feather strung in his hair moved in the breeze.

“But you don’t eat meat.”

“True, but only when I am human. You cannot have a vegetarian hunter, silly girl. I would have been no good trying to find you as a pigeon, now would I?” He bent and rubbed his nose against hers. “The need for meat is one of the reasons I stopped flying so much.” He coughed again. “That, and the pellets. They are very unpleasant.”

Excitement took her senses. What must it be like to become a bird and fly like him? “Can I do it?”

“No, Sparrow, you could not change unless I change you. Such dramatic form transference would take a lot of skill and preparation, years of study. Now be quiet, I need to rest.”

He brushed his lips gentle against her cheek, and a shiver ran over her skin.

While the horse took them back toward the cool depths of the forest, her mind whirled with the power of him, the need for him, the love of him. The Mage was magnificent, and all hers. She laid her head back against his chest and deliberately focused on the thought,
“Thabit, I love you.”

* * * *

Their journey home passed uneventful. At one point, she thought he had fallen asleep as he rested his head on her shoulder for a while. She couldn’t remember being this happy ever. Only the hungry ache of her stomach marred the shining gem this day had become.

At the tower, he set the horse free, and with a glance to her pony, she hurried up over the rise to bathe.

When she returned to the tower, Thabit sat and sipped from a wine cup. She grabbed the cauldron, ready to cook.

“No, Sparrow, not now, I want you to come to the workshop.” He stood and took the cooking pot from her hand.

“But I thought I’d make us something to eat.”

“No, you need to work with me first.”

“Not now. Later, after we’ve eaten.”

“I am not hungry.” He grinned.

“Well, you wouldn’t be, not after all that mouse, but I am. Please?”

“If you argue with me over everything, we will never get anywhere.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m hungry and—”

He caught her arm and pulled her to him, wrapped her in his embrace, and they stood close together as the day lengthened about them.

While she held him tight to her body, tingles of need sparked in her flesh. Each time he held her, the longing for more of him grew stronger. She wanted all of him, was ready for all of him, and to wait was a trial. She sighed and laid her head against his chest.

“This is just as I told Cassandra it would be. I can’t teach you anything.” He twirled a damp curl around his fingers.

“Yes, you can.” Oh, how she ached for him to teach her everything
.

“No, we have discussed this. I will not. In all honor, I cannot teach you what you want. Oh, gods, go cook.” He released her, strode across to the cupboard, took down the wine jug, filled a cup, swallowed a large gulp, and strode out.

She worked fast to make more of the vegetable stew. He’d come back soon and they would eat, and after, she’d be the most obedient pupil he’d ever had. If the reward for learning was more of him, she’d learn in a week.

The leaves turned burgundy like his robes. Russet, rose, and gilt, they fell in the cold winds. The berries hung ripe and red, the blackberries grew plump and purple.

Some mornings a paper-thin layer of crackled ice covered the pool. The water, cold beyond belief, would steal her breath, but no matter how she pleaded, Thabit made her swim, even when it rained.

The Mage made her do a lot of things. And he’d only kissed her once this whole week, and that on the cheek when they returned from the tiny market.

She slammed the porridge pot down.
“Thabit. Your breakfast is ready, and I’m going to see to Ice.”
Not waiting for his reply, she dragged her cloak from the closet, glad to have it today. Grateful he’d
persuaded
Lettie to bring it to her one market day in return for a pot of marigold ointment. Lettie had looked glassy-eyed as she handed the cloak over, and she’d been sure her cousin didn’t understand or wouldn’t remember the exchange. Thabit could do all sorts of things to the mind
.
Didn’t she know it only too well?

The day he’d made her sit still remained the worst. Although he’d apologized afterward for being so harsh, it still stung her pride to know he held so much power and could do such things with ease. She’d not moved a muscle from dawn until dusk, and collapsed after he finally freed her from the spell. His level of skill made her both envious and fearful, and even though she was learning, she doubted she’d ever get close to his kind of ability.

The pony whickered and whinnied at her. Somehow, Ice always helped her find her smile. Together, they had explored the forest as the autumn colors transformed the world to bronzed and gilded beauty in the sun. The winds cooled with the season’s changes, the mushrooms sprouted, and the rain fell like the beginning of a watery dream. Ice slid smooth through the mists each morning while she leaned down over his neck as she looked for the herbs and plants Thabit needed for his potions.

Bloody potions.

She was sick of them, and always the same ones. They’d amassed so many he’d run out of bottles, and now used the cheapest earthenware jars to store them, yet still he ordered her to collect herbs for more. On her journeys to find Feverfew, she had ranged farther and farther from the tower. The Mage was a hard taskmaster.

And why, oh, why, didn’t he kiss her?

She lodged her forehead against the warmth of Ice’s neck. The pony turned a bright eye to her. “He doesn’t love me. You know, boy, he really doesn’t. He can’t wait to send me to the castle, and I want to go.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. While the summer passed, she had shed many, and all for this man.

True, they had laughed a lot together, too. She loved his laugh and the way he would caress her with his gaze after, sensual enough to still her breath or send her heart to thunderous levels. At other times, he simmered hot, bubbled like the stew in the cauldron, and she tiptoed around him the same way she did in the stream when looking for shells.