Mirror Bound

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  practically everything. Her gift was burned out by the constant draining, and she remembered everything that had been done to her in that place. But the worst thing was, and that was why she was depressed, she had nothing to go back to.

  Her parents were deceased, she had been living on the street when that mage found her. Nobody will come for her, living in that wasteland was the happiest she had ever been, because she had Jonathan, and brothers and sisters.

  She couldn't remember ever having better food, or being loved better. In her mind, things could only get worse. I dealt with the trauma of her memories, practically all her memories were traumatic, and then George called Frances over to talk to her, to tell her things would get better, that we would make sure they would even though she didn't have any magic left in her.

  Meanwhile we met up with Jonathan, checked on him, I had energy left working with George, he is clearly very experienced in magic. I'd like you to take a few lessons from him as well, I guess we will be working together often and he can improve our merge.

  If your sleepy teacher over there agrees of course. Anyway, we told him about Laura, that's the name of the girl, that she remembered everything and that being in that wasteland with him was the best time of her life. That rightfully shocked him, and he promised to try to help her become a child again for a short time, which he was planning to do himself, be a child instead of a miniature adult for as long as possible, like a sort of holiday from responsibility.

  I applaud him for that, I do it myself whenever I can. But I must admit he didn't seem to have much hope for his friend Laura. I did teach him to ride a bike, he wanted it very much and he was pretty good at it.

  Then we had a good square meal and I took the bicycle back here. It was still early and I was bored, so I went to that place where we danced, and went a few rounds with some nice girls until they were giddy. They really liked me there, those girls got me drinks and all, and several wanted more but I told them I'd rather dance, so we did.

  Some of the boys didn't like me though, I guess their sisters liked me a bit too much. When I got fed up I cycled home, and since I didn't have a key to the shed I put it in the workshop. I thought you might like to use it today.'

  Which I did, I didn't expect Lukas to take it home but I was very glad he had:

  'Lukas, so sweet of you to think of that, I was a bit disappointed I didn't have it here, it's so much faster than walking and I need to go to the council building today.'

  Now a lazy baritone voice beside us drawled: 'If you're going there anyway, bring a marriage licence, will you? I'd like to get on with it.'

  That certainly got our attention, both our heads turned instantly towards Paul, who was propped on an elbow again, looking, well, good. He looked good.

  Lukas was with him in an instant, grinning broadly at Paul, saying:

  'Congratulations my dear friend, you were made for each other, you will be very happy together.' Paul grinned nearly as broadly, then became serious again: 'Thank you Lukas. Please don't think that I am trying to take Melissa away from you.'

  Just as seriously, Lukas replied: 'I will not. Melissa told me why you want to confirm your love with a marriage ceremony, and I love you even more for thinking of us. And now I want you to lie on your stomach for me.'

  Of course Paul complied, and Lukas stroked his muscled back with a loving touch, until Paul nearly fell asleep with relaxation. Then we looked at the bullet-wound, now just two days old and already well on its way too healing, thanks to Lukas' extraordinary talent.

  Lukas prodded the edges of the wound a little, and Paul didn't even wince. He laid his hand on it for a moment, concentrated, then declared: 'That is as good as healed now. How does it feel?'

  'It feels nice, you have warm hands,' was the answer, muffled by the pillow, and, 'seriously, I'm fine, no pain, no fever.'

  Paul sat up in one fluid motion and moved his shoulders, flexed his muscles, bent over: 'The scar tissue is a bit stiff, but once I'm back at the forge that'll get supple again soon enough. Or you can massage me again, that was so good.'

  At the mentioning of the forge, Lukas tsk'ed and resolutely said: 'No forging for at least a week. Melissa just told me cooking caused you pain yesterday, your back muscles have been torn and need rest.

  You can talk as much to George and the council member as you like, and you may boss me around in the workshop, for I need your supervision to finish a few projects that are due this week, and you may accompany Melissa to the council building to get a licence, but absolutely no hammering, working the bellows or lifting.'

  In response, Paul hung his head and demurely said: 'Yes doctor. And thank you for saving my life.' Lukas took his chin in one hand and lifted Paul's face to his own: 'Are you fooling me around?' Still very demurely, Paul replied:

  'Yes doctor, sorry doctor,' and got his laughing smothered in a kiss.

  'I need to go quit my job today, and I need to work on my new job today, and I want to see how those children are doing,' I said. As a reaction, Paul asked me: 'If I accompany you on all three, will you stay with me during that talk with the council member? I don't like to make deals involving our time without at least one of you present.'

  'Are you well enough to handle so much action in one day? You were still in a pretty bad way yesterday,' I remarked. He reasoned: 'I can sit down for most of it, it's just the cycling to the council building that is strenuous. We can probably even ride back home with George in the carriage for two of your points.'

  That was true, and he added: 'Did George tell you what time they were planning to come here, Lukas?' 'He did, actually,' Lukas replied, 'right after lunch was the intent.'

  With that, Paul stirred into action saying: 'All right, I'd like a shower and a nice breakfast before cycling to the town hall, so I'd better get moving.'

  He looked at me questioningly: 'Care to join me in the shower?' I sure did, so we went upstairs, whilst Lukas dressed and went to the workshop to start on the jobs still waiting for completion.

  You know I pride myself on being a strong woman, able to support myself financially, not prone to hysterical fits or excessive crying, but I have to admit I really liked to have my lover back to his vigorous self, letting him lead the way, having him take me in his arms with his greater physical strength.

  We became really intimate under the shower, kissing passionately, touching greedily, but at some point Paul seemed to rein himself in sharply, taking it a lot slower from that moment on. He went back to just looking his fill, admiring my lush shape, kissing my breasts, my throat, my hair, touching me with something like reverence.

  Of course I had no problems with being admired like that, what woman would? And it was very easy to admire him back, his elegant figure with subtle but very strong muscles, his wet curls framing a finely chiselled face, but still masculine with its squared jaw and the stubble, now nearly a short

  beard after two days without shaving.

  I don't know how long we just stood there, touching each other carefully, tenderly, but at some time the hot water ran out and the shower turned cold rather suddenly.

  We quickly dried each other and retreated to the bed, where we proceeded to make love very, very carefully, not forgetting anything, paying attention to every sensitive spot on the other's body. Even when we finally connected our bodies as closely as our minds, we did not speed up, or become less careful.

  The consciousness of still being together after Paul's life-threatening wound was so strong in both of us that it nearly overcame our heat, but in time exaltation did get its short moment of supremacy, and we both reached an intense climax. Still we didn't speed up our actions, neither thinking of anything else but the person in front of him.

  We held each other for another ten minutes, and then the real world entered again via Paul's voice asking: 'Do I need your parents' permission? I know you're twenty something, but how old are you exactly?'

  'I will be twenty-one September the fifteenth, so I'm not
yet twenty-one. That means you'll have to get my parents' permission, doesn't it?' I asked.

  Lazily he replied: 'It does. I don't even mind, I'd like to meet your folks. I hope they approve of me. Fortunately we don't need my parents' permission, I turned twenty-one last February the seventh, just before we met.'

  Oh my god, he was only twenty-one! If he had told me he would be thirty next year I would have believed him. Of course he expected my surprise, he smiled sweetly and asked, just as sweetly: 'You're not stuck on an older man, are you?'

  This time I had to remind myself, not to breathe, but to close my mouth, which I did, instantly.

  'You look cute when I've managed to stun you. Anyway, I think they'd approve, but we'd have to take a train or hire a carriage, it's a three day ride to their estate. They're usually not in town in high summer. The smell gets to them,' he said.

  Which made me realize his parents were incredibly wealthy, and upper-upper class. He seemed so....normal.

  'I am very normal,' he belied his own statement by picking my thought out of my mind, 'it's the rest of the world that is crazy. Do I really look so old to you?'

  I told him frankly: 'I like to see you fall asleep, you always shed nearly ten years in a single moment. You told me you were near my own age, but I didn't realize how near, I thought you looked younger when you slept.

  It's mostly your posture, the way you present yourself. You're so competent and controlled, you just cannot be a twenty-one year old male, the mind denies it.'

  He wrapped me in his arms, and even his embrace was not that of a twenty-one year old boy with his first girl, but that of a man holding his wife. I decided not to think about it, it made me dizzy. Instead I asked: 'Do you plan to get that licence another day, or do you want to see if my folks are in right now, before we go to the council building? I think we can get there in twenty minutes with the bicycles. Are you up to such a ride?'

  He replied: 'I think I am, shall we try? Breakfast first, though.'

  Chapter 39

  I dressed up for Paul, in the dark green dress that accentuated the colour of my hair, and I wore the copper horses over my perfect cleavage. Of course I left my hair loose, only tying the front part out of my face with a tiny bow in the back.

  And after breakfast we did cycle to the house where I grew up, in another working-class neighbourhood, where people dried their laundry from their balconies, and where Paul padlocked our bicycles to a tree in front of my old home. We knocked, and both my parents were in, just awakened after a night shift.

  They were very surprised to see me all of a sudden, but I think they were pleased. I said: 'Mum, dad, may I introduce you to Paul Kenwick, my landlord. He's asked me to come and work for him, we are going to design houses and utilities together. He's a master craftsman in fancy metalwork, and he invents useful machines.'

  Paul shook hands with my dad and kissed my mother's hand very elegantly, saying: 'Mr and Mrs Thorn, I'm very pleased to meet you.' My mother, always the one in the family who kept up with the society news, replied:

  'Very pleased to meet you Mr Kenwick. Any relation to the Kenwicks if I may ask?' Graciously he replied: 'Indeed I am, Mrs Thorn, they're my parents.

  Even though my father seemed impressed by such a visitor in his humble home, he also looked a bit suspicious, but still he politely asked us in and offered us coffee.

  As we sat at the kitchen table I looked at Paul but couldn't see any signs of discomfort from the ride and the hard chair.

  My parents' house had not changed at all, still the same shabby but clean interior. The coffee wasn't half bad, and my mom's cookies were as good as ever. Paul seemed to enjoy himself, of course he had told me before he saw no class, and he proved it now, chatting with them about things most nobles didn't even know existed.

  I'm sure my mum was thrilled by his company, such a handsome man with

  such good matters. But my dad kept a close eye on him, and I think Paul noticed. He asked, quite formally: 'Mr Thorn, do you think it is possible that we talk eye-to-eye for a few moments?' My dad clearly thought that was a good idea, and he invited Paul to the tiny balcony.

  When they were out, my mum said: 'What a charming man, you have really struck good fortune having him as a landlord my girl.'

  I laid my hand on hers, and said: 'He's not just my landlord, mum We have been seeing each other for several months now, and Paul has asked me to marry him, we're here to ask your consent.' This was quite a shock to her, but clearly not an unpleasant one.

  She looked at me incredulously and said: 'A Kenwick wants to marry you, a working class girl? A gentleman from the most important family in the city?

  How can that be? You have no money, no name?'

  'We're in love, mum, and besides, he's only a youngest son and he works as hard to make a living as I do,' I replied.

  'Well, if you both want to, and you're really in love with him, I see no reason why you shouldn't get married, so you have my consent. A Kenwick, with my daughter, I still find that hard to believe.'

  Paul and my father had returned, but there was still some mistrust in my father's demeanour, as if he had something on his liver but was reluctant to mention it.

  Paul looked at him and said: 'Mr Thorn, you have given me your consent to marry Melissa, and yet I still see doubt written all over you. Won't you spill the beans? I may have a big name, but I work hard for a living, just like you.'

  My dad spoke hesitantly: 'That's not it, son, there is a thing I want to discuss with you but dare not, not because your family could break a small man like me, but because no-one, not even your family dare speak of it where others can hear.'

  This certainly intrigued me, and both Paul and my mum looked at him as if he'd grown wings. My mum said: 'Come on, Jakob, we're all family now, remember. You can't not trust your own son-in-law.' That decided him, and he said: 'You, young Kenwick, are a practising mage. I can see it, you glow with it. People in my circle told me the Kenwicks have always been mages, and I have always maintained that that is their own business.

  But Melissa here is my daughter. She has had a little seed of magic in her since early childhood, but now she glows nearly as brightly as you do. Now

  you tell me honestly: do you really want to marry my daughter for herself, or do you just want to breed her magic into your family-line?'

  The intense silence that followed this question was broken first by my lover, who managed to close his mouth and answer my father: 'Mr Thorn, I admit I practice magic, and that I have been teaching Melissa to control her awakening gift.

  I also admit my family will accept her much more easily because of her talent. But I want to marry her because I love her with all my heart, because I want to share my life with her.

  Not to please my family, who have given me less love in my ten years life with them than your Melissa has given me in the few months we have known each other

  We have shared power, have shared minds. She knows my feelings for her, as I know hers.' I took his hand and squeezed it, and I saw my mum swallow, I don't know if she was touched by Paul's plea or afraid to have her husband found out as witch, though I hoped it was the first.

  My father looked straight at me and bowed his head then looked at Paul again: 'In that case I wish you both the best of luck and happiness together.

  And I insist you both visit a meeting to have yourselves shielded so you don't betray your power to every talented witch hunter you have the misfortune to cross paths with. Would this Friday suit you?'

  Taken by surprise again, Paul looked at me and I nodded. It had bothered me from the start that anyone with sight would know we had magic.

  Learning to hide that could possibly save our lives. I asked: 'Can we bring a friend?'

  Dad replied: 'You can, if you can vouch for him.'

  'I will,' was my only answer. We would meet at my parents' place, then accompany my father to one of the places where his circle convened. Paul thanked my father for the trust and the invit
ation, and added: 'We'll be getting our licence now, we'll have someone visit you to confirm your consent, and Friday you'll get an invitation for the real event, and of course your other daughters and their families as well.'

  He shook hands with both my parents and I kissed my mum and dad goodbye, got their heartfelt well-wishes, and off we were.

  Outside I said: 'Well, that was a surprise I had never expected to get. My father practising magic, and not wanting me to become a broodmare for your

  family. Are you holding up dearest? Not in pain?'

  He looked at me, embraced me and kissed me saying: 'I'm very happy my love, your dad knowing about magic is kind of a relief for me. And you are right that hiding talent is priceless, especially for children not yet able to defend themselves.'

  He unlocked the bicycles and we were off, another ten minutes to the council building, then to the town hall next to it, and ten minutes back to the house.

  My boss, after taking a good though respectful look at my striking figure, took my resignation in stride, almost as if he was already expecting it.

  There was no place to sit in the hall, so I had boldly taken Paul along, and my boss asked to be introduced: 'For I suppose this is the gentleman that you will be working with in the future.'

  I was very surprised to say in the least, how could he have known?

  Must be gossip from the contractors at the site. Still, I told him: 'Mr Millner, may I introduce you to Paul Kenwick, master-craftsman in metalwork and also inventor of useful conveniences. Paul, this is Mr Millner, chief of building safety for this part of our beautiful city.'

  Paul bowed, still a bit stiffly I noticed, and said: 'Pleased to meet you sir, I'm sorry to rob you of one of your most valuable inspectors.'

  Mr Millner replied graciously: 'Don't be sorry Mr Kenwick, I had a hunch she wasn't going to stay an inspector much longer. Her talents have developed so quickly, I knew she'd want more. I'm glad you'll be working together, I think you will complement each other very well.