Real Magic

by Lissa Michaels

  Jelena flinched from the unexpected voice and glanced over her shoulder. Master Kedar strode toward them.

  “You were not called to this council hearing, Kedar. Why are you here?” her grandfather asked, daring to not only use a petulant tone, but to forego the word master while addressing him. She wondered if he cared just how much he disappointed her right now.

  “Since Draken has no male relative to represent him before the council, that honor falls to me, his teacher.”

  “With all due respect,” Grandfather nodded to the master, “We sent Draken to you to learn control, if possible, not to become a real student of the Master Executioner. Yesterday, we saw how very little control he actually possesses.”

  “That’s not true!” Jelena took a step forward, but her grandfather cut her off with a glance.

  “That storm was—”

  “Harmless,” she insisted.

  “Far from harmless.”

  “It was pure emotion.”

  Pascall gripped the arms of his chair. “That kind of power unleashed—”

  “Nothing happened!”

  “Guardian, you go beyond your bounds.”

  Drake’s quiet voice silenced them. “I saw myself killed and my mother give up her life to save me. How should I have felt?”

  And his father. Poor Drake!

  Grandfather jerked his head toward Enola. “Is this true?”

  She nodded. “My daughter died honorably.”

  “Did I harm anyone or anything?” Drake’s question echoed in the domed chamber.

  “Well… no.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “I can,” Master Kedar said, claiming the immediate attention of everyone in the circular room. “When his training is complete, he will be proficient enough to take my place as Master Executioner.”

  Drake jerked his gaze to him. “What?”

  “You gave your word.”

  He stared at the master for a long moment then nodded slightly, but he wasn’t happy about it. Master Kedar must have been less than open about what Drake had agreed to.

  Drake, Master of the Executioners. The thought was staggering yet at the same time made perfect sense. His Guild functioned in much the same way.

  “Master Kedar, this is a mistake. This man is a contracted killer.”

  “Much as the Executioners are, though we prefer to say we are seeing judgment carried out.”

  “Surely the gods—”

  “The gods approve of Draken in this role and have already accepted him into the fold. He was given his first assignment by the Goddess Meda herself.”

  Jelena looked at him. He met her stare, probing, judging. He wanted to know how she felt him being forced to kill again. She slipped her hand into his. This was different. This was justice, and she knew he would be every bit as thorough with this as he’d been with his Guild contracts.

  “Once a killer, always a killer.”

  “Danon!” Jelena whispered, and whirled around. Her brother looked so pale, haggard, his brown hair limp and lifeless. And so thin. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to see for myself that you’ve taken up with Farran’s murderer.” His harsh whisper carried across the room as he advanced toward them. “I didn’t want to believe it, but there he is, in the flesh—the Magician.”

  Her hand fell away from Drake’s. Danon had never before even hinted that he knew who killed Farran. That he mentioned Drake by name… it chilled her blood. “No, Danon, you’re wrong. Drake didn’t do it. He couldn’t have.”

  Danon tore his hostile gaze away from Drake.

  She flinched back from his loathing stare. She shook her head, but Danon looked so sure. She turned to Drake. “Tali, tell him you didn’t do it.” Even she heard the question in her voice.

  Drake jerked as if she’d slapped him. His jaw clenched. His eyes turned cold, empty. His face a hard, emotionless mask. This wasn’t the warm, caring man she fell in love with. This was the man others saw, despite the missing tattoo. This was the Magician.

  Danon was barely a foot from Drake before he broke her gaze and looked at him. “I remember you. She begged for your life.”

  Jelena gasped. It wasn’t true!

  “You bastard! You admit it? Here, in front of everyone?” Danon clenched his fists. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

  “You can try.”

  Danon sized Drake up—his bulk, his eyes—and must have realized he couldn’t beat him. His cry of frustration echoed across the chamber walls. It brought tears to Jelena’s eyes. He shook with barely controlled fury. “Where did you hide her body?” His whisper echoed though the silent chamber.

  “Laduva,” Drake replied, and a small piece of Jelena’s heart died. “There’s an inn in the Wozet provence. The owner can tell you where she is.”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Drake shook his head. “The choice is hers.”

  “Bastard.” When Drake just stared at him, he turned his glare on his sister. “I’m bringing her home. She’ll have a proper burial if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Poor Danon. Jelena reached out to comfort him, her heart breaking for his loss. He jerked away from her and disappeared.

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. When she raised her head, Drake stared at her with that cold, emotionless look on his face, but there was something more.

  Something in his eyes.

  He said it was her choice. Why? Drake never said he’d killed Farran, only that he remembered Danon. Gods, he didn’t do it! She just knew he didn’t. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  He shook his head and turned toward the door.

  “You cannot leave it at that.” Master Kedar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “If they are to respect you when you become Master, you cannot leave them with the belief you are a cold blooded killer.”

  “I don’t care what they think of me.” Drake looked right into her grandfather’s eyes when he said it. But he did care what she thought of him. She’d doubted him, if only for a few moments, and he knew it.

  “Even so, you must tell the tale from the beginning.”

  She slipped her hand into his again, hoping he’d see that she supported him, that she believed in him.

  He didn’t squeeze her hand. He didn’t so much as close his fingers around hers. But he didn’t pull away.

  “I was a paid killer then.”

  If he paused for effect, it worked. Each council member reacted to his plain statement. Outrage, shock, and tears—Enola’s tears. Jelena squeezed his fingers, urging him to continue.

  “I didn’t have a choice. It was follow orders or die.” He pulled his hand from her grasp and strode closer to the dais. “But I knew the moment that assignment came in that I couldn’t do it. I just wasn’t sure how to save her and walk away alive.”

  Jelena gasped. “She’s the one—your last assignment for Mandek.”

  Drake nodded. “I didn’t expect to find your brother sleeping in the bed beside her. The intel I had on her didn’t mention that she had a lover, though now I understand why. He would have been shielded.” He shrugged.

  “She woke the moment I bent over her, but she didn’t wake him. I think she knew he’d die if she did. She didn’t seem surprised to see me. In fact, she was resigned to the fact she was going to die.”

  “You said she begged you not to kill him,” Grandfather said, his voice hard, suspicious.

  Drake nodded. “She gave me her word that she wouldn’t fight me, wouldn’t make a sound if I spared his life.”

  “What did you do?” Pascall glared at him, his tone disbelieving.

  “I told her that if she wanted them both to live, she had to walk away and never look back.”

  “She did?”

  “Without hesitation.”

  “Danon found her bedside soaked with blood.”

  “My blood. I opened a vein in my wrist and l
et it bleed so it appeared I slit her throat.”

  Tears filled Jelena’s eyes as she listened to the lengths he went to in order to save this woman’s life and that of her child—a child who could be her brother’s.

  “Why did you do that? Why did you slit your own wrist?” Grandfather asked.

  Drake shrugged. “It needed to be realistic.”

  “She was with child,” Jelena said, telling them what Drake was too modest to say. “He wouldn’t risk her life or the child’s by using her own blood.”

  “That doesn’t explain why Danon didn’t find that she still lived.”

  It made perfect sense to Jelena. Everything made perfect sense now. “Her features had been altered to protect her. That’s why the seeking spell didn’t work. He couldn’t picture what she looked like, so it couldn’t take him to her.” She closed the small space separating them and looked into Drake’s eyes. “Farran’s the woman who owns the inn, isn’t she?”

  He hesitated, glancing at the council members then nodded.

  “Why didn’t you just tell Danon that? Why let him leave here thinking she was dead?”

  Drake looked at her grandfather. “It’s been a long time. She might not want him to know who she is. Besides, whoever it was that wanted to harm them may still be out there.”

  “Her choice,” Jelena whispered.

  “Exactly.” He glanced at them again. “This information does not leave this room. It’s her choice. No one else’s.”

  Mumbles arose from the other council members who, for the most part, had remained silent. They turned away from them and conferred quietly for a few moments. When she saw their nods, she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or afraid. She looked to Enola for guidance.

  Enola smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes.

  “We still have reservations about this man, but we will accept the gods judgment and yours in choosing him as your replacement,” Grandfather nodded to Master Kedar, then turned his gaze to Drake. “And, I am honored to accept you, Draken, into our family.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Go now, children. We have other things to discuss.”

  Master Kedar patted Drake’s shoulder and joined the council, leaving them to find their way out.

  Thank the gods it was finally over. The council had accepted Drake. He wouldn’t have to worry about them ever again. And Grandfather accepted him into the family! She was so happy that, when they stepped into the waning sunlight, she hugged him.

  He pulled away. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “It will.” She stepped toward him. “You heard him. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Drake shook his head. “Not them. Us.” He twisted the betrothal cuff off his wrist and held it out to her.

  Jelena jerked back. “No, you can’t mean it.”

  “I do. Take it.”

  “No.” Tears clogged her throat, making her voice crack as she yanked her hands behind her and backed further. “Don’t do this.”

  He stepped toward her then stopped, sighing in annoyance.

  The second her mind registered that the cuff had disappeared from his hand, it appeared in hers. It jolted her from one emotion into the next. “You cowardly bastard.”

  Drake’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt her.

  “You’re doing this because I doubted you, aren’t you? Because I believed you could have killed her. What you said to Danon, the way you said it, of course I believed you! But only for a moment.” She gripped the cuff tightly in her hands. “How can you hold that against me after all we’ve shared?”

  He said nothing. Not one blasted word.

  “You’re not even going to give us a chance. We’re destined to be together. Why can’t you accept that?”

  “When did you accept it? Yesterday, that destiny scared the hell out of you.”

  Her cheeks heated even as her palms turned cold. She remembered what she’d said; that she was afraid her vision would come true. “We were arguing, and I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Maybe, but you were right. I’m not your dream man, Jelena. We just share the same face.”

  She flung the cuff at him. An inch from his broad chest, it bounced off an invisible wall and clattered on the stone pavement.

  Chapter Fifteen

  DRAKE WATCHED Jelena run away in tears, but made no move to pick up the discarded cuff. Damn it, why hadn’t she taken the drekking thing back? Why the hell had he started this mess in the first place? He knew better. He should have let her believe what she’d wanted, that he was a cold-hearted bastard.

  She knew it now, didn’t she? He’d told her he loved her, told her he’d marry her, then told her to take a flight. He never should have let her get close to him.

  She’d called him a coward, more than once, for walking away from their arguments. But he knew when fighting was pointless. He knew when to walk away. This time, she’d walked away from him. Either his bad habits had worn off on her, or she’d accepted it was over—for good.

  Not just because she’d doubted him. No, it was the desperation in her voice when she’d begged him to tell them he hadn’t killed Farran. She needed him to paint himself an innocent man, and he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  Hell, they never had a chance.

  Gods, he’d wanted it to work, had hoped…

  Love and family weren’t for people like him. His past would always be between them, a boulder above his head just waiting to fall, and he refused to sit and wait for it to happen. And it would. He’d carried out hundreds of contracts for Mandek. What would happen if she confronted him with one of those and he couldn’t explain it away?

  He knew what would happen. Her love would die, and he refused to watch that happen. It would kill him quicker than the pain of separating himself from his bond mate would.

  Separation pain was inevitable.

  It already started. It hit him the moment she’d asked about Farran, and had grown steadily worse as the minutes passed.

  But he’d live.

  He’d survived things that had killed men better than him; he’d survive this—no matter how bad it got. If it drove him insane, so be it. Insanity had to be better than living with the fear that every time his past came up, every time he killed for the gods, he’d lose another piece of her.

  He just wished he hadn’t hurt her. He clenched his fist over the knifing pain in his chest and whispered, “I’m sorry, Jelena.”

  Someone moved at the edge of his vision. Cordan. Drek! He wasn’t in the mood for this. He was so worked up he itched to knock the short-haired swamp rat around. One wrong word, that’s all it would take. And it would feel good. Really good.

  The man stopped about two feet away and leaned against the wall, his gaze on the cuff at Drake’s feet. “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?” Cordan raised his gaze to Drake’s. “She put her reputation on the line, embarrassed herself, and you set her aside.”

  Best thing he could do for her. Loving him was bad for the health; ask Miranda. “She’ll get over it.”

  “Yes, she will. When I’m finished, she won’t even remember your name.” Cordan reached for the cuff.

  “Don’t.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Drake grabbed Cordan and slammed him against the wall. The man slid slowly into a dazed heap on the ground.

  “Damn.” He hadn’t meant to do that. He rubbed his hand over his face and considered offering the man a hand up. Briefly. Gods, this place was getting to him.

  Cordan shook his head, as if to clear it, then his gaze returned to the cuff. Stupid bastard was going for it again. It wouldn’t happen. If Jelena wanted to give it to him, fine, but he’d be damned if the man would set one finger on it before then.

  A small whirlwind lifted it off the ground, then pop, it disappeared, leaving only a few silver sparkles of magic glittering in the air. It was safely back in Jelena’s chest.

  Cordan gasped and scrambled to his knees. “Where is it?”
>
  Drake didn’t reply.

  “You destroyed it, didn’t you? She’ll never forgive you.”

  That would make things easier. Anger he could handle, but her tears made him hurt in places he’d thought were dead. “Do yourself a favor. Stay out of my way for as long as I’m here.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure.” He scrambled to his feet and took off in the direction Jelena had run.

  Drake glared at the man’s retreating back. Because of that damned promise, there was no telling how long he’d be stuck here. If Kedar had his way, it would be forever. Taking his anger and frustration out on Cordan was way too tempting, but the man would never survive it.

  No, it would have to be Threaden. The man had a death sentence on his head, and Drake had put it off long enough. It was time to end it. Maybe then Morgan would have some closure to the nightmare he’d suffered. Maybe then his mother’s spirit would find peace. Maybe, if he were lucky, someone would put him out of his misery before the pain drove him insane.

  JELENA STOMPED down the path to Faery Lake, cursing a certain black-haired, blue-eyed, stubborn—

  He wouldn’t give them a chance!

  She’d believed everything she’d heard about him before they’d met and had treated him badly because of it, but she’d been wrong. He’d proved it to her. But because he’d shaken her faith for a few moments, he was willing to throw it all away.

  He’d known how his words would sound. He purposely let everyone believe the worst and had intended to walk! Why?

  Why tell her he loved her, why bond himself to her, and walk away? It made no sense.

  Unless he lied about the bond and what it meant.

  No. What they’d shared when they made love, that was real. He belonged to her now mind, body, and soul, and she wouldn’t give him up without a fight. He didn’t know her at all if he thought she would.

  “Jelena, wait.”

  She groaned. Just the sound of Cordan’s voice started her forehead throbbing. She kept walking, hoping that if she ignored him, he would go away.

  He appeared right in front of her, blocking her path.

  She sighed. Some things weren’t meant to be.

  “Why didn’t you stop?”

  “My mind’s elsewhere.” Her impatient tone was lost on him.