by Ashley Meira
Diana sat across from me, her mouth open in a joyful grin. Her bangs were so long they brushed over her eyes, and her two front teeth were missing. A half-finished crown of flowers was in her hands, stalks of lavender tickling the small limbs.
We’d moved here, under the willow tree where lavender grew, to create our treasures. We didn’t want the flowers in the field to see us playing with their siblings until we’d made them into pretty crowns.
A shadow covered us, and we looked up with happy smiles as a woman kneeled beside us with a basket of freshly picked flowers. Her long brown hair was tied back in a braid, and her chocolate-colored eyes were glowing with love.
Our mother dusted off her simple red dress as we fought over which flowers we would use. She took our tiny hands in hers, and my heart swelled over how loved I felt in her presence.
I pouted when she began choosing the flowers for us because “we couldn’t play nice.” I was the older one by ten whole minutes! Why shouldn’t I get first pick?
“Hannah!” a deep voice called from far away.
I leapt to my feet and ran toward the source: a tall man with glasses and a well-trimmed beard. “Daddy!”
He ran for me, his eyes widened in an emotion I’d never seen before. A happy shriek escaped me as he scooped me up and continued running for my mother. Diana called for him too, and I could hear the patter of her small feet as she rushed to be scooped up as well.
“Hey!” she cried unhappily.
I looked over my shoulder and smirked at her frowning face. Momma had picked her up instead.
“I want daddy to play airplane!” she whined.
“John,” Momma said. “What is it? What’s wrong? Who’s magic is that?”
“We need to go,” he said. He sounded scared, and I stopped fussing in his arms. Daddy never sounded scared. “Now.”
Diana began howling, tears rushing from her face like a waterfall. I joined her, both of us unsure why we were crying, but aware something was wrong. Our parents were worried — that meant something bad was going to happen.
They didn’t bother shushing us as they took off, still cradling us in their arms. The pretty field of flowers we ran around in every day grew smaller, the rainbow colored plants swaying in the breeze as if they were waving goodbye. The stream nearby, where I’d pushed Diana and made her cry, was little more than a thin ribbon of turquoise as our parents fled from an unknown force.
I wrinkled my nose at the foul smell that permeated my senses. It was awful. No matter where I looked, I couldn’t find the source. It tasted bad too, and I wanted to throw up.
When I told Daddy, he held me closer and shushed me, promising everything was going to be okay. I clung to him, reaching a hand out toward Diana. She grabbed it instantly, her big brown eyes watery and scared.
I woke with a sharp gasp and immediately clamped a hand over my mouth. I needed to be quiet. Daddy told me to—
My hands dropped into my blanket-covered lap. It was just a dream. From my childhood. The first one I’d ever had. It just had to be a bad one, I thought. Would I ever have pleasant dreams again? From what I’d seen, there were a lot of happy memories to be had in that field. Why did I have to see that one?
My thigh burned, and I reached for it, running my fingers over the brand that shouldn’t have hurt after all these years. Ghost pain, I supposed. I traced over Nicholas’ brand: a dragon wrapping itself around a phoenix, either to embrace it or pull it to its death.
I still had no idea what it meant. Both creatures were credited as being the founders of magic, depending on who you asked. Most people didn’t particularly care one way or the other, but for some, it was a war bloodier than Edward vs. Jacob.
Thinking of Nicholas bade images of the man from my dream. They both had brown eyes and hair, but it was hard to be sure they were the same man. For one, my mother had called my father John. He could have changed his name, though — and lost the kind glint that had been in his eyes despite the fear.
Fear felt too mild. My father had been terrified for our safety, and as I recalled the end of my dream, I knew why. My exact age in that dream wasn’t clear, but I’d been too young to recognize the bad smell and taste that had assaulted me.
Rot and tar, the smell and taste of Nicholas’ magic.
The blankets were bunched in my hands, and I pulled them up to my shoulders. He had come after us. As horrible as that was, it meant he wasn’t John. He wasn’t my father.
Right?
The worry that I’d only noticed the magic because it was close — like from someone holding me — was chased away as I remembered my mother had sensed it coming. I guess my senses hadn’t been as sharp back then.
Or maybe she was noticing the change in your father’s magic, that cruel voice in my head suggested.
Before I could tell it to where to shove its suggestions, Adam stirred with a sleepy groan that, any other time, I’d have found sexy beyond belief. When his pretty gray eyes remained shut, I relaxed and sunk back into bed to watch his sleeping face.
It was amazing how much better I felt in his presence — and that I could have ever doubted him or his feelings for me. When I got home and told Fiona about this, she’d inform me it was the dumbest idea I’d ever had, and I’d agree with her. Both because she was right, and because it would stun her into silence.
“Your magic is sad,” he mumbled sleepily.
“You can’t tell that,” I said into his shoulder.
“Yes, I can. No matter how much you hide it, I’ll always know you.” His eyes fluttered open. “Besides, you hate waking up before you need to, so there’s no way you’re happy right now.”
“I’m always happy with you.”
His gaze softened, and he pulled me to him. Our lips met in the middle, but I let him control the kiss. His warmth seeped through me with every practiced movement. By the time he was done, I’d forgotten why I was upset in the first place.
Shame I had such a good memory. Well, for these past eight years, at least. “I remembered something.”
When I finished recounting my nightmare, Adam pulled me closer to his chest without a word. We laid there, the silence for once peaceful. The strong beat of his heart lulled me back into a calm state, and I reached a hand up to twine my fingers into his hair. It was always softest after he washed it. He sighed happily and moved to rest his head on my chest, nuzzling the purple lace.
It was easy to pretend like this. To believe the world was alright and that nothing bad was brewing out there. That there wasn’t an evil, child-stealing monster working with a depraved sea witch to do who-knew-what. We were together, content, and not for the first time since we’d met, I prayed for the world to leave us alone.
Pressing a kiss to the swell of my left breast, he said, “Remember when I said I was a big fan of lace?”
“You’d seen my bra — again — and picked up on my penchant for lacy underwear.” As a mercenary, I didn’t have a lot of freedom in the way I dressed. Since my breasts were small enough to not need support, I allowed myself a vain frivolity: an assortment of colorful and extremely frilly bras. Hey, we all had our quirks. “What? Changed your mind?”
“Definitely.” His voice was rough, and when his eyes met mine, they were liquid steel. “I much prefer you without it.”
My breath hitched as his teeth worried the small golden clasp in the front. “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” he breathed. “But only in here.”
“Good,” I said, somehow managing to keep my voice steady. “I’m not really a fan of going out braless.”
“When we’re outside and the strap of your tank slips, I can see the little lacy strap,” he said, brushing his lips across my collarbone as he moved up to my whisper in my ear. “And I can imagine taking you home and ripping it off you.”
My face flushed, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my body had done the same. Adam and I still hadn’t gone all the way. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to, but it had never felt l
ike the right time. With Nicholas and Seraphine on the loose — and being much too quiet — we’d been more focused on training.
I’d hoped our return from Nice might bring some peace and time for more intimate pursuits, but then we’d been interrupted by his father. And if that wasn’t the biggest mood-killer in the world, I had no idea what was.
He lifted himself onto his forearms, and I gave him a pointed look, hoping I didn’t actually have to ask him if he thought I’d have sex in his sister’s house. The small smile tugging on his lips told me I didn’t before it vanished, along with the rest of him.
I jolted upright and grabbed a bunch of his hair. He winced and bit my knee before giving me a reproachful look. Apparently, I did need to ask.
“We’re in your sister’s house.”
“I know. I figured you were only opposed to going all the way.”
“It’s weird to hear you phrase it that way.”
“That’s how you phrase it.”
“It’s weird when I say it, too.”
He kissed the knee he’d bitten before grazing his lips against my inner thigh. “Do you want me to stop?”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “It feels wrong.”
“Tell you what.” He pushed himself up high enough to kiss my navel before dropping back down. “I’ll get to work, and if it still feels wrong, you let me know.”
Heat blossomed in my cheeks. “That is not—”
I cut off with a moan and dropped my head back against the pillow.
Chapter Eleven
As it turned out, we couldn’t fly to Goliki. Adam hadn’t bothered sharing that bit of information with me until I’d been fed, and if he thought that breaking the news to me while wearing Charlotte’s apron — which had the words “May I Suggest the Sausage?” printed above a hand pointing toward his crotch — would assuage my temper, he was right.
Not that I had a problem with long drives. The last two we’d been on had been horrible, but not because of length. Unless Adam planned to give me the silent treatment and stew the entire trip, I would be fine. Plus, with him around, I always had something nice to stare at.
The trip passed by quickly, though Adam did try to ruin it by making me promise not to ask Charlotte about the apron. I promised, but only because I’d already found a store that sold it online and placed an order. We parked in front of a rather out of place diner in the middle of nowhere.
Magic tickled my nose as I exited the car, and I realized why someone had decided to set up shop here. Goliki was a settlement made up of green witches, their families, and the occasional scholar who came to study Plitvice Lakes. Which meant the village was located deep within the woods under the concealment charm placed around every magical town. Normal people would have the urge to turn around whenever they got close, but Adam and I should be able to get through without any fuss.
We entered the diner to grab some food for the long trek ahead. The man at the counter raised his brow as we stepped inside. His mossy green eyes twinkled with magic, and he straightened at our appearance. We were the only customers in here, but he still lowered his voice to ask if we were planning on exploring the woods.
At our nods, he stepped into the kitchen and began preparing an order we hadn’t yet placed. I couldn’t find it in me to protest once the smell of grilled meat hit me, however. Despite her wonderful taste in aprons, Charlotte had no meat products in her home. I didn’t know whether she was vegetarian or simply out of stock, but as long as she didn’t glare at me when I ordered a burger, I didn’t care.
Our order was delivered with a speed I knew was magically bolstered, and the green witch read off our total with a pleasant smile.
Being a foreigner always made me feel ill at ease. Not so much for the concept of being an outsider — having no memory of my past meant not knowing where I came from in the first place — but because I could feel the label “tourist” pressed firmly against my forehead. Suddenly, merchants started charging me a premium for “exotic” goods and trying to tempt me to purchase extra for my friends back home. I appreciated neither sentiment and often left feeling ripped off.
So, I was pleasantly surprised when the price we’d been given seemed reasonable. To me, at least. For all I knew, this was a small fortune in Croatia. After batting Adam’s hands away from his wallet, I paid for our food with a smile. My partner glared at me as we stepped outside and headed for the forest, but that just made my smile grow.
“You’re going to run out of food,” Adam said after I’d bitten into my second burger.
Though that might have been a bit of a misnomer. It was a bunch of juicy meat stuffed between two crispy buns. Despite its simplicity, it was absolutely delicious, and I found myself wondering why people even bothered adding gross things like vegetables to their burgers. It was a thought I voiced to Fiona whenever we ate at a fast food joint — and the reason why she refused to go to any of them with me these days.
“It’s going to get cold,” I said.
“The box he gave us is magically heated,” Adam said dryly. “The point of this food is that it’s supposed to last us the trip to Goliki—”
“So we don’t die of hypothermia,” I finished. “Or to use as a distraction for hungry wolves.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sophia—”
I gave him a teasing smile over my shoulder. “Are you saying you can’t keep me warm?”
His eyes darkened, and he rushed for me. Our lips crashed together as his hands gripped the back of my thighs and lifted me up. My back brushed against a nearby tree. The rough bark pulled at my hair, but my concern quickly faded when Adam ran his tongue across my lower lip. Before I could truly get into it, however, he pulled away, his grin so wide it could’ve cracked his face. Bitterly, I wished it did.
“Ass.”
“I thought Fireborns didn’t get cold?” he whispered into my ear.
I considered mashing my food into his face, but decided not to waste such delicious meat on such a cruel man. “You’re mean, and I don’t like you.”
“Aw, and here I thought that meant you’d be the one keeping us warm.” He gave his shoulders a casual roll as he pulled away, smug grin still in place. “I guess I’ll make do on my own.”
“You better,” I said darkly. “Because right now I’m likely to set you and the forest on fire.”
“To keep us warm?”
I glared at him and bit into my burger.
We continued on in an amicable silence, taking in the beauty of a winter forest. The trees towered over us, their tall, snow-covered trunks stretching out like crystalline sculptures toward the pale gray sky. Even the dark trunks, covered in sludge and mud, had a sort of appeal to them, serving as a stark contrast to their fairer-skinned kin.
It was another thirty minutes before I heard anything other than the sound of our footsteps and the soft scraping of bare branches. My ears quirked at the sound as my Fire rustled. The quiet thrum of magical energy surrounded us, so similar to what I heard when I ventured to Santa Fae’s border. Goliki’s magical barrier was near.
Being Fireborn allowed me to sense things that regular mages couldn’t, like barriers. I couldn’t normally see them unless I was close by, however, so we had to walk a bit farther before the pale green veins came into view. I watched them pulse in a calm rhythm, their shape reminding me of roots in the ground. They spread across the space before us in a semi-translucent dome.
“The barrier is here,” Adam said before noting the transfixed look on my face. “Right. I forgot you can see it.”
“You really can’t?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I can always sense barriers, and if they’re powerful enough, I can see them. But the barriers around our communities are meant to be unobtrusive, so clarity is a premium when creating them.”
“Yeah, I guess people wouldn’t want to see this obstructing their view when they look out the window,” I said. “There’s a limit to how far I can be to see these. I can o
nly see Santa Fae’s if I’m nearby.”
“Chasing unicorns?” he asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.
I scowled. There were woodlands around the edges of Santa Fae that housed a variety of creatures. Like unicorns, who were pretty and majestic from a distance, but gigantic jerks if you got too close.
However, despite the many warnings, written and verbal, placed by city officials, people couldn’t help trying to ride the unicorns. You never, ever rode a unicorn without their permission. The results were catastrophic. Which meant professional mercenaries had to be called in to sort things out. Mercenaries who, like me, almost always refused a second call-out to unicorn territory. Some things in life should only be done once.
Unlike the barrier we’d encountered on the Pyrenees, this one wasn’t meant to keep us out, so we stepped through it with ease. The magic snapped at my skin as I crossed through. My Fire snapped back, sucking in the minute traces it could before I’d fully passed through. City barriers were so big that minor fluctuations in magic were normal, so my tiny bit of absorption wouldn’t be noted. I imagine I could have absorbed the entirety of this barrier if I stayed in contact with it long enough, but I had no need for that. And considering the gigantic, strung out mess I became after absorbing barriers, I counted that as a good thing.
“That is a big tree,” Adam noted.
My eyes widened as I took in our surroundings. It felt like we’d stepped into another world. I quickly stuck my head back out the barrier, taking in the quiet winter wonderland we’d trekked through, before popping back in.
There wasn’t a hint of white in here. The sky high tree trunks were all a rich brown, their heavy branches covered in thick green leaves. Grass swayed at my feet, carrying the scent of dirt and chlorophyll through the crisp air. A plethora of small flowers peeked out between blades of grass, playing peekaboo as they moved along with the breeze.
A bird call drew my attention to the sky, and I caught sight of a Merlin’s Bluejay perched atop a high branch. It was a magical bird prized for its vibrant blue feathers. I watched it patter along the branch as the light made its feathers gleam even brighter.
