Spells and Necromancy: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Unfortunate Magic Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  Practically pulling himself away, Valerius didn’t meet Tamlen’s curious stare as he muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”

  “The great and mighty Valerius,” Tamlen said, eyeing him up, “reduced to…that.”

  He shot him a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, Vale. My dear, sweet, Vale.” Tamlen’s melodic voice caused his nerves to jitter. Why did the man insist on speaking so much? Valerius would much rather listen to Lena’s voice go on and on instead of his. “History doesn’t forget everyone. It forgot you for a reason.” He crossed his arms, shooting a glance at Lena and Ingrid. Both women were still rapt in their own conversation about what they were going to do next.

  Whatever the bastard was about to say, Valerius had the feeling that he was going to pummel him after he said it. If there was one thing Tamlen was good for, other than fire, it was not knowing when to stop talking.

  “I do wonder if she knows what you favor,” Tamlen spoke. “You certainly could’ve fooled me, though. The kiss between you two was very realistic.”

  Valerius knew he was simply trying to get beneath his skin, yet he found himself replying, “It was real.” Not that Tamlen deserved to know any details about it, for he had gotten himself into a more intimate position with Lena much faster than he.

  “But what about the cock? Midas’s, yours, any man’s. I thought that’s where your interests lie?”

  Eyebrows together, Valerius didn’t know what to say. Was the question a baiting one? Did Tamlen wait to pounce as soon as he chose to answer? Perhaps he should say nothing and move on, though he knew Tamlen wasn’t likely to do so. He was the sort to ruminate over and over about whatever interested him in the moment. An annoying trait.

  “My interests are none of your concern” was what Valerius decided to say, hoping to stay neutral. What a pointless hope.

  “Ah, perhaps you like both, then?”

  Valerius wondered if Lena and her friend could hear them. They were now discussing some inn in the city, oblivious to what Tamlen was so insistent on talking about. “Why does it matter to you, Tamlen? Why do you care?”

  “I don’t care in the sense that I care who you sleep with. Whatever gets you off is fine with me. I’m merely wondering if I have competition, if she’s all mine, or perhaps if we could learn to share.” Tamlen’s dark gaze, so brown they were near pupil-less, turned to Lena, swallowing her backside up.

  Valerius had to agree; Lena did have a nice, round ass. As nice as Tamlen’s was, in a different way. But, hold on—share? Share what? Share…Lena? “What are you talking about?” Sharing a woman was not something two men did, not really. Not unless they were in the brothel. At least, he thought so. He’d never been inside a brothel before.

  Tamlen was all too happy to carry on, explaining, “Ever since waking, I’ve been finding my…soldier, as I like to call him, all too ready to stand at attention. I’m fucking horny, and maybe it’s because she rose us from the dead, but I want her. A hundred women, all naked, could walk by me and I would still follow Lena.” His dark eyes returned to Valerius. “Don’t tell me you feel differently, Vale. I saw you with her. You were touching her as if you’ll never see tomorrow.”

  “Simply because I was touching her doesn’t mean that I’m…” Valerius realized that what Tamlen said was true: if a hundred women walked by, only Lena would draw his interest. Lena was the only woman for him, the only one he wanted. How maddeningly strange.

  “Exactly. You want her, too.”

  Valerius couldn’t deny that. He startled the instant Tamlen slapped him on the back. Both women paused in their conversation and glanced over at them. Ingrid rolled her eyes, while Lena’s gaze lingered on them both. She was probably wondering why they were so close to each other, what they were talking about. If only she knew.

  Tamlen squeezed his shoulder, saying, “Now, you know I don’t swing your way, but I wouldn’t be opposed to letting you watch…maybe join in. Admit it, Vale. It sounds like fun, does it not?”

  “Stop.” Valerius pulled away from him. It did sound like fun, but he couldn’t think about it. In tight pants like the ones he wore, it’d be all too easy to spot an erection. He couldn’t think about anyone being naked right now. “Unless times have changed, I don’t think it’s normal for a woman to be with multiple men.”

  “Clearly, you haven’t been with the right women,” Tamlen joked. “Seriously, though. If she were willing, what’s the harm? Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s nether regions are pleased.”

  That…wouldn’t be a terrible thing, especially since the longer Valerius gazed at Lena, the more he wanted her.

  Finally, Ingrid and Lena joined their conversation. Tamlen looked as though he were about to say more inappropriate things—things of which Ingrid should not hear—but Lena was the first to speak, “There’s an inn, a little ways away from the College, in the markets. Ingrid knows the innkeeper. Hopefully he’ll have a room or two. You’ll have to stay there while I…figure out what’s next.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve you sending us back to the crypt with shiny new tombstones, I’m fine with whatever comes next,” Tamlen spoke, tossing an arm around Valerius’s shoulder, like they were the best buddies around. “Though I do hope that it involves us three alone in a room together.” He winked.

  Valerius shrugged him off, putting distance between him and Tamlen as both women scowled. Ingrid’s scowl was deeper; Lena’s held more shock than anything.

  This was going to be a long day.

  As they made their way back to the base of the hunt, the entrance to the King’s Gardens, Lena couldn’t help but feel like her small group was being watched. Maybe it was because she felt uneasy carrying a necromancer’s tome in her bag, the fact that it was sitting on the shelves in the College’s library even though the practice was banned millennia ago. It could also be due to the two men who walked on either side of her, the two men who were most recently undead, who completely and utterly ignored Ingrid—the far prettier one of their two—as they walked. Perhaps she simply felt like someone out there knew all her dark and dirty secrets.

  Oh, and she lost her hat.

  Lena didn’t want anyone to find out about the necromancy bit. Since it was so heinously illegal, there wouldn’t even be a trial. There was no innocent until proven guilty, not when it came to illegal magics, not in the King of Rivaini’s eyes. All suspected foul magic users were better put to death than allowed to live under suspicion.

  Illegal magics were illegal for a reason. They were so vastly unnatural that they were sick and depraved. In the times before the ban on necromancy, most necromancers took residence in caves, away from society, with their own small armies of undead. Undead who would do anything their masters asked. Anything. Necrophilia was rampant among them, the nasty rumors had it.

  Lena couldn’t help but wonder if she had sex with Tamlen or Valerius, if that would be considered necrophilia too. In a way, they used to be dead. But they weren’t exactly decaying zombies or skeletons. They were very much alive.

  Other magics that were illegal in Rivaini were mostly of the persuasion sort. Meaning, the spells that could compel people and animals to do things they wouldn’t normally do. Like handing over their life’s work, all their money, or forcing them to do morally questionable things like thieving and murder.

  Then, of course, there were the curses. Based in old runic magic, curses were often used as punishments in the old ages. Now, there were spells based on pausing curses, because that’s all one could do if someone realized they’d been cursed: pause and delay it, but not stop it. Curses could not be stopped or reversed. And most times, at least in the stories Lena had read, people didn’t realize they were cursed until it was too late.

  And those things said nothing of blood magic. That was one topic Lena preferred not to think about.

  They made it back to the entrance area of the King’s Gardens, where numerous royal guards stood at attention near the dilapidate
d archway that supposedly separated the rest of the forest with the Gardens. Their armor was clean and neat, the metal reflecting the sun overhead, very much unlike the city guards in Rivaini. Their armor was often dirty and shoddily pieced-together because the King kept only his castle’s guards well-stocked.

  Seemed stupid to Lena. The city guardsmen were the ones who would first defend against an assault. No one had attacked Rivaini in years—since before she was born—but that was beside the point. Peace between kingdoms never lasted forever, if history had anything to say.

  History. Lena would have to pull some history books from the library, see if she could read up more on both Valerius and Tamlen.

  Ingrid addressed the guards, hands on her hips. “We’re ready to return to the city.”

  The guard glanced at Lena, at the strange color of her hair, then at the two men behind her. At least Valerius’s rune-inscribed arms were covered with sleeves. She didn’t need to explain to anyone what his strange markings were. Not yet, anyway. “You’re not bringing anything back for the King?”

  Ingrid had her reply ready: “We’re College students. Came to research, not to catch and kill.”

  The moment she mentioned the College, the guardsman took a step away from the group, as if he was afraid their magic would catch on him like some disease, rot him from the core. No, his prejudice was all that resided within him, even if Lena couldn’t blame him for it. Simply because she was a mage did not mean she automatically hated the guard for his actions. She understood it completely.

  After another moment, the guardsmen nodded beneath his helmet. “Follow me.” He spun on his heel, his sword clanging on his hip with each step. It’s what they were here for, transporting Rivaini citizens to and from the hunt.

  As they walked, Lena glanced at Ingrid. “Did you get what data you needed for your dissertation?”

  “Yes, though I suspect I will be far too busy in the upcoming days to even start drafting my thesis.” Ingrid shot a playful glare at her, elbowing her. They walked ahead of Valerius and Tamlen, and a little ways behind the guardsman. Below them, the grass was so trampled with the coming and going of eager hunters and the carts of nobles that it was flattened to the earth. “Not that I blame you, of course. If you would’ve known what you were doing, I know you would’ve stopped.”

  Lena barked out a laugh. That sounded like a fantastic vote of confidence, didn’t it?

  “Still,” Ingrid paused as she shot a glance over her shoulder. “You could’ve done worse. At least they’re nice to look at. What are their names?” After Lena told her, she added, “The dark-haired one—Tamlen? He is very well-endowed.” Surely, it was a good thing her friend was not so well-versed in history.

  Nearly tripping on her own feet, Lena gave her friend an incredulous expression. She didn’t blame her friend for looking, for before the clothes, it was hanging out in the open for any and all to see, but there was a small yet growing feeling inside her: jealousy. She didn’t want Ingrid talking about either of them like that.

  How odd. She hardly knew Tamlen and Valerius, yet Lena felt compelled to claim them, to mark them as hers, even if she had to make a sign and hang it around their necks. It was ridiculous, though. They might’ve been her thralls, but they did not belong to her. They were humans all the same. Not slaves.

  They were not hers.

  They weren’t.

  Chapter Five

  Soon enough, Lena and her group approached the city’s walls. The moment they started trudging along the outer farms, the guardsman waved them off and hurried away, back to the King’s Gardens where the hunt was still underway. He probably wanted to rid himself of Lena and the others as soon as he could. Most of the inhabitants of Rivaini were uncomfortable around magic.

  They said nothing as they closed the distance between them and the city gates. Big, hulking metal bars, raised high in the outer stone wall; in the event of an attack or a siege, it could be lowered at a moment’s notice, though such an act would lock out the farmers whose lands were not inside the city’s walls.

  The city guards nodded to them as they passed. Ingrid was the first to enter the streets of Rivaini, stepping through the crowded markets. In the center of the street, children ran along, their faces painted white. They chased each other, pretending to be the white wyvern, holding out their arms, their fingers spread apart like claws.

  How cute. Lena watched them with a smile on her face, but the smile fell away as soon as she noticed both Valerius and Tamlen were watching her. She tried to force out a frown, a scowl, anything to tell them that she didn’t like being watched, but she couldn’t, because she kind of did like it.

  Lena pushed to walk near Ingrid. “Did you see it?”

  Her friend walked with a mission and an intense face, causing everyone to get out of their way. Ingrid glanced at her, asking, “See what?”

  “The wyvern.”

  Ingrid chuckled. “No. Did you?” She asked it as a joke, Lena knew, not seriously. Her friend clearly did not anticipate her answer.

  “Yes.”

  Feet abruptly halting in their marching, Ingrid whirled on her. “You did? Truly?” When Lena gave a nod, she said, “Why didn’t you do something?”

  “We’re mages in the College. We aren’t allowed to have land or a title.”

  Tamlen muttered something under his breath.

  An age-old practice, one that Tamlen must’ve fought against when he was first alive. After passing their apprenticeships, once they gained enough experience to become an enchanter, mages could embark on journeys and leave Rivaini. They could marry, too, but only each other. The restrictions were in place for a reason. Lena did not hate them as much as Tamlen seemed to.

  “I know, but we could’ve gotten the money, at least. I could’ve paid someone to write my dissertation for me. All I would’ve had to do is present it to Gregain.” Ingrid was not nearly as scholarly as Lena. She was not a history buff or one who went into the library on her own accord. Only when she had to. Ingrid studied her. “How did you see it? When? And how are you not wyvern food?”

  “Right after we got out of the crypt, I needed some time alone. I found a pond. The wyvern was under the water. It came out and…I think it liked me.” Lena recalled the beautiful, majestic creature. “If I didn’t just break one of the College’s laws, I would’ve spent more time with it. It was remarkably social and non-violent.”

  Ingrid resumed her pace, and Lena and the guys kept up. “That’s amazing. I didn’t know—I thought wyverns were all but extinct, like dragons.” After a few more minutes of zigzagging through the crowded markets, they stopped before a three-story wooden structure whose hanging sign was nothing but a picture of foaming ale. “Here we are.”

  The door to the inn was a swinging one. Ingrid kicked it open, smiling widely as she went in, shouting, “Harry! How are you? Miss me?” She wandered to the front counter, leaning on the wooden surface, her arms crossed.

  Lena was next to go in, taking in the small lower level of the bar area. A dozen seats and a few stools near the counter. A sparse few were occupied by patrons; it was a slow day, and it would continue to be slow as long as the festivities went on outside, until night fell, at least. She moved near Ingrid, studying the man whom she called Harry.

  A middle-aged man with a rounded belly and black fingernails. His large frame wore a leather apron tied above his filthy, off-white shirt. A greasy beard lined his jaw, the rest of the hair on his head either shaved short or balding. Though he didn’t seem to be the cleanest one around, there was a kindness in his brown eyes as he leaned across the counter and gave Ingrid a hug. She’d have to remember to ask her friend just how she knew him so well.

  “I thought you’d be busy with that College stuff,” Harry said once the hug was over. “You said it’d be a while. It’s only been a week.”

  A week? How often did Ingrid leave the College? Lena wondered. Did she sneak out? She could use camouflaging spells, but those were draining
and couldn’t last forever. High Enchanter Gregain only allowed students to leave the College grounds every few months. Until the students were no longer students and were enchanters themselves, after passing all their tests. Only then could they come and go whenever they pleased, though their journeys were still documented.

  Unless the student’s name was Ingrid, apparently.

  “Had to leave the College to join the hunt,” Ingrid said, shooting a look at Lena. “You know me. I’ll never pass up a chance to leave that stupid place, even if it’s only for a day.” She smiled.

  “Ah, catch anything?” Harry inquired.

  “Just two men who need a room.”

  Harry turned his gaze on Lena, and then the two men who loomed behind her like twin towers. She’d have to talk to them about that. She should not feel their breath on the back of her neck. That was a tad too close. “Boyfriends?” His eyes twinkled, though there was a seriousness there, as if he took on the mantle of Ingrid’s father.

  Which was ridiculous, because Ingrid was abandoned as a baby right outside the College.

  “Not mine, unfortunately,” Ingrid replied, gently elbowing her friend. “They’re Lena’s.”

  “Oh, so this is the famous Lena?” Harry held out his hand. She took it, even though she really didn’t want to. His fingers were so slick with grease and ale that they practically slid right out of hers. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name. Ingrid talks about you all the time.”

  Lena’s eyebrows rose. “Does she?” That was interesting, considering Ingrid had never told her about Harry or her frequent visits to the inn-slash-bar.

  Harry turned; above him, keys sat on small round rings, hanging off short poles, decorated with numbers. He only had ten rooms; eight of them were already full, judging the empty, key-less poles. “One room or two?”