The Joy of Hex

by Sarina Dorie

  “Are you getting close?” I asked.

  “Maybe.”

  I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head down so I could kiss him roughly, the way he liked. He moaned against my mouth. I pressed myself against him. His penis went from zero to sixty in about three seconds.

  “Focus on the tattoo,” he said.

  I pricked the needles deeper against his skin. An electric tattoo machine would have been faster, and thus, more painful, but the triple needle was what I had to work with. I kept at it, grinding against him as I leaned in. His erection pressed against my belly, sandwiched between us. When I squirmed a little lower, I was able to rub my breasts down his body and keep tattooing.

  He moaned.

  “Feeling tortured yet?” I asked.

  His breath came out in little pants. I suspected that was a good sign. I dug an elbow into his side as I worked.

  “Just remember, when you transcend to a higher consciousness, use the Ruby of Divine Wisdom to heal yourself,” I said.

  He blinked his eyes open. “What ruby?”

  “The ruby you’re always trying to keep me from when we leave our mortal bodies.”

  “I have no idea what you’re going on about.” He frowned, concentrating more on my words than experiencing pleasure-pain.

  Was I the only one who remembered? Or was this another one of his lies? I could never tell.

  I jabbed the needles into his ribs and kept tattooing. I knew he was close when the lightning flashed under his skin. That was the usual sign it was about time to stay out of the line of fire. I shifted aside. It only took a small amount of coaxing to get him to come. The three other times he’d come inside me, I had suspected it was my magic exploding at the same time that had shielded me from his lightning. Orgasm had helped us join together in the cosmos as dragons, but I now knew it could be achieved through the proper state of pleasure for me—dancing for Vega—or pain for him.

  I would have liked to watch the serenity in his relaxed expression, the way his skin flushed pink against the white lines of the tattoos he’d etched into his arms in the last year since his old ones had burned out, or the spurts of red lightning ejaculating out of him. The electricity that left him wasn’t as abundant as the time he’d come in the shower, and I’d thought he was going to electrocute us. That probably meant he’d controlled his magic and contained his affinity to use its power.

  His head leaned back against the wall. Warm fluid gushed out of him onto my shoulder as I worked on his tattoo. I didn’t mind the sticky puddle. This was normal, how it would have been for him in a different life if we had been Morties.

  After a long moment, he let out a breathy sigh.

  “Do you feel healed?” I asked.

  “Healed? Not particularly. But it was enjoyable.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. I had thought the Ruby of Divine Wisdom would be the answer to everything.

  He looked down at his chest where I had been tattooing. “That’s enough for today. You can finish another time. Shall we see whether there’s any supper left for us upstairs?”

  The servants had already cleared food from the table in the patched-up dining room. I found Vega and Elric in the parlor with the children and three Fae I hadn’t met before. Allowing the children in the parlor in the evening was a rarity in itself, usually only reserved for their talent shows of singing, dancing, and theatrics. To admit them while adult guests were present was downright peculiar. The guests were speaking with Elric when I walked in. The three of them turned toward me, conversation dying away. They didn’t radiate silvery light and inspire me to do art as someone from the Silver Court might have. Nor were they dressed in all-black plumage as someone might have worn in the Raven Court.

  Even so, from the amount of magic radiating from the two younger men in matching clothes, I knew they were Fae. They sparkled with enough incandescence to easily outshine Elric.

  But perhaps that wasn’t saying much in his weakened state.

  Their long robes were made of silk, the patterns and buttons reminding me of Chinese fashion, though it was different enough to tell me they were of another origin. The old man with the beard was Asian, but it was difficult to say what the other two were with their yellow eyes and bumpy skin. I couldn’t tell if the texture of their skin was made up of scars or scales.

  Elric said something in another language I couldn’t understand. I’d watched enough anime to know the sounds and words weren’t Japanese, but that was all I could glean.

  Vega strode over to me, shoving me back out the door. “I suppose you’ll be hungry and whine if you don’t get something to eat. You can go to the kitchen and see whether the cook has anything to spare.” Vega lifted her nose up at me. Her gaze drifted over my hair. “And don’t come back until you’re fit to be seen by royalty.” She held up a finger, her expression stern. “No pink. Pink is for little girls and weaklings. Not powerful witches.”

  So the guests weren’t just Fae, but from one of the courts.

  In the kitchen, Thatch and I found Betsy, one of the maids, had set aside two plates of food for us.

  I wanted to thank her, but I knew that wasn’t a custom in this realm. Instead, I said, “That’s so thoughtful of you to think of us.”

  She curtsied. “All summer Trevor talked about how you fed him at the school and made sure he got something to eat. Even after he’d been given a detention and missed a meal.” She glanced at Thatch and blanched, perhaps guessing who had given him some of those detentions.

  Thatch pretended he didn’t notice her mortification.

  She rushed on. “I just wanted to make sure you were treated with the same kindness. Petra said you were good to her.”

  Petra, the maid who had died when the Raven Court attacked. I patted her shoulder, trying to reassure her and thank her at the same time.

  The meat and vegetables were cold. Betsy offered to call a fire Elementia to heat it up for us, but Thatch had already started in on his supper. I declined her offer. I didn’t want to trouble anyone. Thatch was especially silent. The only sound was our forks and knives against the plates and Betsy scrubbing dishes in a tub near the fire.

  “We never talk about what happens in that other place,” I whispered. “When we transcend.”

  Thatch sliced through his lamb. “Is that what you call it? Transcending? I suppose that is an apt term for it.”

  “We’ve only done it a few times when we’ve been together.” The first time had been in the Raven Court, and he had used our energy to break the Raven Queen’s wards and transport us out of her castle. The second time had been to cure me of Quenylda’s sleeping-beauty curse. The third had been in the Raven Court to make a child. “I thought we had to both . . . you know.” I glanced at Betsy and lowered my voice. “Come.” Or at least I had thought that until I’d attempted to try it today.

  “It takes a tremendous amount of a certain kind of magic, which I haven’t been capable of gathering of late.” He set down his fork and knife. “I’ve only transcended twice in the entirety of my life prior to meeting you. This was my original reason for wishing to study lucid dreaming long ago, though I never had the opportunity to practice this skill for that purpose. Even so, I still don’t recall . . . all the details.”

  “I do.” At least, I thought I did. “Vega remembers bits and pieces.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Vega has transcended, and she remembers it? Even though she was made and not born into this affinity?” He resumed eating.

  “It’s how she got pregnant.”

  He eyed me doubtfully. He must not have remembered the dragon egg.

  “I wanted you to transcend, so that you could heal and gain power from dragon eggs. And knowledge from the Ruby of Divine Wisdom. That’s what the ruby is, dragon eggs.”

  “No way!” Betsy threw her washrag into the tub of dishes. “It can’t be. But . . . I guess it makes sense.”

 
Thatch gave me one of his long-suffering looks. Yep, me and my big mouth, talking in front of servants.

  Betsy withered under his glare. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “See. This is what Elric gets for not being cruel and beating the servants. If only he listened to Vega so she could teach everyone some manners.”

  Betsy shrank even more.

  “Why do you think it makes sense that the ruby is a dragon egg?” I asked.

  “Isn’t that who’s here tonight?” Betsy looked from me to my husband. “The master’s guests?”

  Thatch stiffened. “Who do you mean?”

  “My brother heard the footman. That old man, the Witchkin, is nephew to the emperor of the Jade Court. Prince Elric knows him because he’s allied with their family. They share tutors and send the children on playdates to each other’s estates.”

  The Jade Court was a smaller court. Not being in the limelight as one of the wealthier and more powerful courts, they had avoided scandal when royalty in their family had taken Witchkin lovers. Whether it was pragmatism or they weren’t as snobby as the Western courts about marrying half-breeds, they had allowed human mortals into their bloodline.

  They had allowed Red affinities into their lineage.

  Thatch finished his last bite of lamb and stood. “The Jade Court is not the same as the Dragon Court.”

  “Yeah, I know there’s a difference.” Betsy rolled her eyes with the attitude of a teenager, which she was. “Prince Elric’s friend is from the Jade Court. But he brought two representatives from the Dragon Court. Duh.”

  It was handy having an inside scoop from someone on my team for a change.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Here There Be Dragons

  Alouette Loraline had served as governess for two children from the Dragon Court. I had read about it in Womby’s: A History of the School. The book had speculated on why a Fae court would hire a Witchkin as governess and not enslave her. I remembered the implication that the author thought she had outwitted them. I was intrigued by the idea of meeting people who had potentially known my mother.

  Whether they were friend or foe—and what they considered me by association of whom I was related to—concerned me.

  “The Dragon Court no longer exists,” Thatch said, imperiously gazing down at Betsy. “Come along, Clarissa. We will need to freshen up before meeting guests.”

  I wasn’t done with my dinner. I shoveled another bite of cold asparagus into my mouth. “Why did Prince Elric invite them? Or did they invite themselves? Do you think they’re in cahoots with the Raven Court or allied with the Silver Court?”

  “Neither,” Thatch said. “They’re Fae. They serve their own interests.”

  I looked to Betsy. “What were they like? What was your brother’s impression? How did they treat their servants?” You could tell a lot about the Fae by how they treated their supposed inferiors. That had been one of the factors that had persuaded me of Elric’s integrity.

  Betsy shrugged. “He said they were quiet. Polite.”

  That didn’t mean much. Fae believed in etiquette. Manners. Rules.

  I didn’t know what the arrival of dragons meant, but it had to be something big, especially after I had just transcended into a dragon hours before. I wiped my hands on a napkin and rose.

  “Let’s go see the guests,” I said.

  Thatch’s lips pressed into a flat line. From the way his eyes narrowed, I could tell he wasn’t pleased about something. Maybe he was afraid I would say something wrong.

  Betsy snickered.

  “What?” I asked.

  Betsy waved her hand at me. “Please say you’re not going to go in there with your hair looking like that. We’ve got to call your lady’s maid, or else Mistress Bloodmire will have an apoplexy.”

  It was torture sitting through someone making my hair presentable. What if those delegates left before I had a chance to meet them?

  When Thatch and I joined Vega and Elric in the parlor, I noted there weren’t three guests but four. A woman sat on the floor with the children. She played with them, speaking in what I suspected was Chinese. The guests had brought two children. They wore traditional Chinese clothing and were showing Elric’s adopted children how to play some kind of board game with pebbles. The children’s appearance was as unusual as the other guests with their bumpy skin.

  Vega sat perched on the edge of a settee, reading next to the children playing games on the floor. She glanced up at me, her eyes narrowing when she saw that I’d selected a pink dress, but she said nothing. I’d probably get an earful later.

  Elric left the men and approached me. “Ah, Mrs. Thatch, I’m so pleased you could join us. Our guests have been most anxious to make your acquaintance.”

  From his tone and wording, I could tell it was going to be an evening of formalities.

  Elric tucked my hand in the crook of his arm and escorted me to the trio. As he was wont to do, he completely ignored Felix Thatch.

  Elric introduced me with a flourish of his hand, speaking first in Chinese and then translating into English. “This is Clarissa Lawrence Thatch, former teacher at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches, and daughter of Alouette Loraline.” He waved a hand at the guests, about to introduce them.

  I curtsied and spoke before Elric could go on. “It’s nice to meet you. This is my husband, Felix Thatch. He currently teaches at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches. He was one of Alouette Loraline’s students.”

  The men with bumpy skin looked at Thatch with a hint more interest now that he was more than wallpaper behind me. They bowed before directing their attention back to me.

  The two men from the Dragon Court were similarly dressed, though in different colors. Up close I could see they were identical, all hair absent from their faces and bald heads. The pustules covering their faces weren’t inflamed like eczema or a skin disease. The bumps grew in regular clusters like rows of corn. As was the case of many Fae and Witchkin, I was left wondering what they were.

  “This is Mr. Zhao, a distant relative of the Jade Court’s emperor,” Elric said, indicating the old man. Next, he introduced Yin and Lee.

  I remembered their names from the history book. I was so startled I forgot to bow. “My biological mother was your governess?”

  Identical Mona Lisa smiles curled their lips upward. They bowed. I realized I had forgotten to bow, and then I did so. They bowed again. I didn’t know Chinese or Fae customs enough to know when to stop.

  Mr. Zhao laughed. Thatch’s face remained expressionless.

  “You are quite beautiful, like your mother. I was sorry to hear of her passing.” The man to the left spoke flawless English with an aristocratic accent even stuffier than Thatch’s. “May I shake your hand in the way she taught me that friends do in the West? A handshake is a gesture of goodwill to show another one carries no arms?” Hesitantly, Yin extended his hand.

  Friends? I wanted to believe he was a friend, but I wondered what kind of lessons he had learned from the wickedest witch in all the land.

  I held out my hand. He enclosed mine with his, though he still bowed as he did so. A shiver raced through me. The electricity in him was unmistakable. It hummed like a song, rushing into me and out again to form a circuit.

  “I am honored to make the acquaintance of the daughter of our teacher,” he said.

  When he released my hand, I was left breathless. His energy tasted more like a Witchkin’s—a Red affinity’s—than a Fae’s.

  “My turn,” said Lee, elbowing his brother aside. He grinned at me, taking my hand in his. Already I could tell he was the more boisterous twin. “I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  The moment his hand touched mine, it sent a pleasant jolt through me. His magic tasted like music played on a flute and sounded like jasmine. Oddly, there was a bit of lasagna thrown in as well.

  “She has her m
other’s eyes. It’s quite unsettling,” Yin said.

  “No. She doesn’t have Ms. Loraline’s eyes at all,” Lee said. He didn’t release my hand. “Perhaps her mouth and her chin.”

  He made no attempt to conceal what he was from me. Neither of them did. They were Red affinities.

  “How is this possible?” I asked. “You’re Fae? Or Witchkin? Of the Dragon Court?” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “The Lost Court?”

  “The Dragon Court isn’t lost,” Yin said in all seriousness.

  “I believe Mrs. Thatch means the Lost Red Court,” Elric said. He spoke openly about it, drawing a few glances from the children.

  Vega wasn’t even pretending to read. She stared off into the distance, probably listening in on the conversation.

  Elric escorted us over to a divan and offered his guests refreshments.

  They still hadn’t answered my question. Curiosity burned inside me. Were they the answer to my every question about who I was and what I was? Did they know the secrets of the Red affinity and the dragons? Perhaps they would help me defeat the Raven Queen.

  I sat sandwiched between Thatch and Elric, my loyal protectors.

  I looked from Lee to Yin, uncertain whether I should ask. “Is it bad manners in your culture to ask what you are?”

  Thatch coughed, his subtle way of making his disapproval known.

  “Yes,” Yin said.

  “No,” Lee said.

  Yin grimaced at his brother. “Why must you contradict everything I say?” He added a long string of words in a dialect that sounded as though it were made more of music than a human tongue.

  Lee lounged against the divan, reminding me of a rakish gentleman. He waved a hand at me. “Is it rude for a child to possess curiosity? Clarissa Thatch is but a child as we once were. Alouette Loraline permitted us to ask questions when we were children. Should we not treat her the same?”

  “Ms. Loraline permitted us to ask questions,” Yin conceded

  “Did she answer?” I asked. I had been denied the truth my entire life.

  “Sometimes,” Lee said with an enigmatic smile.