Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2)

by Nicolette Jinks

  Realization broke through my distracted thoughts. Had Mother been part of the idea behind Rossalinda's family appearing at my doorstep while Mordon and Father were conveniently absent? She'd want to see me safe more than anyone else.

  A man in a brown tunic and hair dyed in patches of pinks, greens, and purples came out from around a darts wagon.

  “Is that who I think it is?” I asked.

  Mordon followed my gaze and his eyes narrowed. “I see who you're talking about, but I don't…ah.” He smiled as the wind shifted and brought the scent our way. “Yes, it is.”

  “Leazar!”

  I burst into the clearing, running. My brother jumped, saw me, and held out his arms. I rushed into a hug, spinning around him the way we used to do when I was little and he'd make my shoes fly off. He set me back on the ground and we both stopped smiling, feigning formal indifference.

  “Feraline Swift.”

  “Peacemaker Leazar.”

  We stood there like that, both of us with our arms crossed, chins lifted, deliberately avoiding making eye contact. Daring the other to lose seriousness first. Challenging each other to see who could avoid grinning the longest.

  It happened that he'd brought Simbalene with him. Her hair was as carrot-red as last time I'd seen it, and she looked way too cute when all those light freckles skewed up in confusion as she looked between us. It was Mordon's expression that made a giggle start. He stroked his chin, found it empty of a beard, and glanced down at his hand as though shocked to find his fingers empty.

  “I win.”

  II scowled and slugged Leazar on the shoulder, giggling all the way, saying, “It wasn't fair. Your mate isn't as comical as mine is, otherwise I'd have won.”

  Leazar held up a hand to fend off the blows. “Be careful what you call a great Drake Lord of Kragdomen, sister!”

  “Phooey. I could call him whatever I wanted.” I wrapped an arm around my brother's shoulders and put all my weight on him, making him stagger. He might be taller, but I was stockier. “What has you and your little wifey here in Smallville?”

  “You know me, sister, any time there's free drink and a good time to be had…”

  I rolled my eyes and let him go. “Sure, sure. It wasn't anything to do with hearing that you little sis had another legal battle?”

  “That factored in, too.”

  Something in his voice made me pause. Was everyone here for the same reason? To face off with the Infection and stop it before it got too bad? I examined his face, but as soon as Simbalene was distracted by a floating balloon dog which barked in its squeaky voice, he was distracted as well. I stood beside Mordon, watching as Leazar haggled with the balloon man. Two balloon dogs were soon made, both of them green and seemingly in love, and Leazar let Simbalene hold them. She let go, looked shocked when they floated up. I used a bit of magic to stop them, and Leazar caught their strings. He tied them about his wife's wrist, the way parents did for children in the fair grounds.

  Mordon tugged on my hand. I let him lead me to wherever caught his attention, glancing every now and then to check on the way the feys behaved around the even finer-boned fairie bride of my brother's. While Mordon watched, entranced, a Fire Master perform his routine using a deft mastery of magic and sleight of hand, I noticed that people were likewise entranced watching Simbalene. After some soft agreement with Mordon about the finer techniques of fire magic, we went to where a black unicorn danced in a ring of bluebells glowing with witch fire. Simbalene joined me at this, at one point she snapped her fingers and a spray of glittering fairy dust floated overhead. This drew awed approval from the children.

  At the Amazing Pixie Cloud Acrobats, Mordon and I hung near the back of the crowd as the tiny pixies went through their performance with the use of flowers, beads, lights, and spider silk, which they wove into patterns and did this and that with. I remembered my own conflict with the pixie clouds in Gregor Cole's employ and how it had hurt when they drove their tiny swords under skin and scale. The acrobats were beautiful, but … I stood it as long as I could, but soon my skin itched. I asked into Mordon's ear, “We leave?”

  He immediately took us away. I sighed and scratched my arms, noticing as I did so that my skin had become tough and patterned like scales.

  “Bad association?” Mordon said.

  “Bad association.” I held out my hands and tapped two talon-like fingernails together. “Am I shifting?”

  Mordon's hands were rough and hard as they took mine. “You could. It's in anticipation of trouble.” His eyes glinted and he struggled to keep a smile off his lips.

  “Or what else?”

  “Let's say…I find you very attractive at the moment.”

  I felt the blush crossing my cheeks. I bumped him with my hip. “Ah, I see.”

  “Want to be alone?” he asked and slid a hand around my hip, drawing me flush to his side.

  “I'd love to.”

  There was an instant of spontaneous thrill as he dug long nails into my thigh. My whole body had changed its tack just like that. It wasn't something I was used to experiencing. I wanted it. The sensation, the breathlessness and heat going through my body, was amazing. I wanted to see what would happen next, and I very much had no idea what it was that Mordon had in mind. But I knew that whatever it was, I was going to love it.

  So I joined him in looking for an easy to access quiet place. The forest was there, in the distance, but we'd wandered deep into the carnival, and though it was now night, they had the place lit up with torches of all kinds of fire, many of which took the shape of people or animals and moved this way or that.

  Mordon was the one who saw the back of a tent where various bushes and shrubs grew, casting a dark shadow. We were soon ensconced in it. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him, giddy with wondering what were were going to do—and in public.

  “Fera-line!”

  I ignored Mother and wove my hands through Mordon's hair. He ignored her, too, clutching me hard against his chest.

  “Fera! I know you're here somewhere, don't make me come find you.”

  Mordon nipped my lip, nudged my head to the side, and said in my ear, “She will, too. Do you want her to see this?”

  I wanted to say no, but growled instead.

  Mordon laughed and slapped my butt. I yelped and slapped his chest, which made him laugh more. His skin shone in the light of a wandering fire spirit which did back flips through the air, watching us before flipping again, giving me a better view of my mate.

  He'd partially shifted, too, the anticipation thing. His skin was faintly red in the darkness, lighter and darker stripes which I knew were his yellow and black markings. His nails had grown and hardened into talons. But what got me most were his eyes, turned to vertical slits, large and wide and dark. I felt the itch to shift, to grapple scale to scale, to take flight, to run away, to get close. The flight conflicted with the grappling, the running with the getting close, the urge to be free with the desire to be dominated. I didn't know what to think of the combination.

  “Fera, there you are. I wanted to speak with you, it's about tomorrow.”

  Mordon lost the scales and big eyes by the time she had finished her first sentence. I struggled to revert back to normal.

  “Fera, did you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mother.” My voice sounded a little…different, but it was hard to say how. I cleared my throat and checked my nails. Pink with white ovals. When I faced her, she didn't seem to see anything strange. “If it's about leaving the woods before tomorrow, it's not happening. I'm staying.”

  A dead silence came over us as Mother took in what I'd said. Then she nodded and waved at Mordon.

  “Get out of the corner. There's a whole carnival to explore. You're not getting out of being social.”

  “We've been caught,” Mordon whispered. I giggled.

  Mother stood there, hands on hips, until we were back on the trampled grassy path very well lit by torches doing their flips and shimmies in t
andem to the restless breeze which was makings its own way through the wonders of the fey world.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “…and then I told them I was going to stick it out and fight the Infection with them,” I said.

  Mordon and I laid on a flying carpet parked on the uppermost branches of the tallest maple tree in the center of the clearing with the shouts and songs and explosions of the carnival happening all around us on the ground below. I had him all to myself, and he was infuriatingly happy to hook both his hands behind his head and enjoy my attentions.

  Once or twice I'd already tried to ignore him, even tried sitting on my own hands, but they always found a way back to his face, arms, and chest. I was the one who was used to playing hard to get, and it irritated me to no end that not only was he the one doing it, but it was working. So I'd started talking about the most un-sexy thing I could, which was my enemy and the big problem. My thoughts were beginning to come into line as the burdens added up.

  “I've heard talk of much of the same. There's an evacuation plan in progress for the children, infirm, and unable, but none of them want to leave. They'd rather die, and the children are too scared to leave their home. It's the children which worry me.”

  “I know,” I said. “Mordon, do you suppose…do you suppose the children and caretakers could take shelter in Kragdomen?”

  “Home of the fearsome fire drake?”

  “A magic castle armed to the teeth with warriors and set in a peaceful valley teeming with children their age to play with.”

  Mordon passed his hand over his face, but it wasn't a bad expression. He stroked his chin. “There may be objections, both with the feys and with the colony. And it might not be so peaceful if dragons try one of their raids.”

  “These kids haven't even seen a duplex. Imagine what they'd think of exploring a castle. And besides, the dragons aren't worse than a nuisance, usually. Or so you have said.”

  “I don't want them there.”

  What? I lifted my chin. “Then you'll have to state your opinion when I bring it up before the Elders. Fey kids they may be, but it doesn't seem that the colony is so uncharitable as to turn them away.”

  “Don't tell me about charity. This isn't about the heart. It's about the practicality of the matter. What do they eat? How are they to get their food? Where will they sleep, what will they do while they wait, where do they go if the Wildwoods is lost, how long will the colony be responsible for them, what sort of recompense will the colony receive? Will they be safe from the big, bad Aeron Meadows and his mate Enaid?”

  My brows narrowed. “You want to help them.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You were just playing devil's advocate.”

  “Yes.” Mordon shrugged. “People will ask those questions, and if they don't, they should. So start answering.”

  I thought about it for a minute. “They can bring a supply of food from their homes. Mother mentioned once that they have a two-week stash for emergencies. That should be plenty of time to tell if the Wildwoods can be saved. Because I have a feeling it's going to happen quick. As to sleeping, you and I both know the castle has a lot of spare rooms from more prosperous days.”

  “The feys don't know it.”

  “You're right, I'll have to tell them there's space. What was next? Recompense can be in goods and services. The caretakers can bring valuable exotics to give to the colony.”

  “And what to do while they wait?”

  “Oh, yes. Think they'd be any help in the normal daily activities of the colony?”

  Mordon snorted. “The second one of them relaxes, they'll pull a prank and that'll do wonders to sour relations.”

  “They can be serious when they want. Besides, the colony kids are rambunctious, too. The alternative is to have a segregated society.”

  “Not ideal,” Mordon said. “We'll have to tell the refugees to follow colony rules, and tell the colony to tolerate their eccentricities.”

  “Neither party will like that.”

  “No, but it will help the feys adjust if they need to find a new permanent home.”

  I closed my eyes and wrapped my hands around my knees. Mordon rubbed the spot between my shoulder blades. We sat there in silence for a while, listening to the cackling warble of a harpy's laugh.

  “I can't imagine all of this just being gone,” I said.

  “Then don't.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “It isn't.” Mordon sat next to me and kissed my temple. “It isn't.”

  “How do I talk to the Elders about this?”

  “Let me.”

  “Mordon,” I started, but he put a finger over my lips.

  The way he was looking at me, serious and sad, made me keep quiet after his finger left my mouth. He took me by the back of the neck, leaned over me, and pinned me down to the carpet, covering me in slow kisses and a body which made me feel tiny and petite in comparison to the broad expanse of his chest and arms. My body warmed up to the change in topic, beginning to relax and excite.

  “Yo, M-man, don't make me fight you for my sister's honor,” Leazar said, his voice all too close and coming closer.

  Mordon pulled me into his lap, holding my arms against my sides, reading my intentions to launch off our carpet and take out my irritation on my brother.

  Mordon said, “I'll squash you, feyling.”

  “Daddio already give you that routine? You should have seen what he was like when I wanted to take a girl on a date.”

  “Then,” Simbalene said in her light, bell like voice, “it is very well indeed that it was I who married you.”

  Leazar looked proud. “Best night I can't remember.”

  “You can't remember your own wedding?” I asked. “How much did you have to drink?”

  “Just a half-glass or so. Remember all those warnings about eating fairy food and drink? Yeah, they're totally real. Don't do it. You'll either wake up naked in a church before Sunday service, or with a little befreckled redhead in your bed.” Leazar grasped Simbalene and made a kissy face at her. She shrieked and fought him off. He let her go and leaned back, pouting. “And we were friends before she doped me. I thought I could trust her.”

  “You lie,” Simbalene said. “I ask if you'd marry, you say yes. Now you pretend—”

  “My sister knows I'm teasing.”

  Simbalene huffed, but didn't look upset.

  Mordon said, “Did you follow us up here to talk, to enjoy the night, or to watch us enjoy it?”

  My mouth dropped open in shock, but I snapped it closed again at my brother's grin. Anything to see me uncomfortable, brother dearest? Leazar toyed with a pink strand of his hair.

  “Unfortunately, not the second option. Thankfully not the third. Now…I wish I had another time to address this, but I think I heard you mention the evacuation plan? Do you have a solution?”

  The next while was occupied with the four of us refining the plan. I hoped that he would take the idea and leave me to Option Two, but other carpets arrived and soon a whole think-tank was happening on carpets on the uppermost foliage of the tallest elm tree in the center of the carnival.

  Half of my mind followed after the line of questions, answers, and details that swirled all around me. My thoughts trudged a slow circle, searching for a way to save the Wildwoods, a way to stop the husks and Infection and the Unwritten. I couldn't just leave. The Immortal couldn't win this place, it just couldn't. The raw power behind the woods would be too hard to replace or get back. If this was a chess game, the Wildwoods was our queen, and she was either currently in check or would be soon.

  When the carnival died down, it had all been settled. Three host possibilities for refugees had been selected. Kragdomen Colony, the sphynx Anhur's home, and some resort in the Grand Canyon which I'd never heard of before. They'd go through the list in that order, relying on the resort last, though it would be guaranteed to be available. It felt too much like a vacation for the caretakers to be c
omfortable with it. I nearly dozed, propped against Mordon with the lulling massage of his knuckles tracing mindless paths up and down my spine.

  When he rocked into a new position, I snapped wide awake, aware of who was on the carpets around us. Of the most importance were my parents. Mother was talking.

  “Are you sure the Elders will even consider us?”

  Mordon's answer vibrated through my back. “They may be harsh at times, but I have yet to see them flatly deny a call for help, particularly when they have a ruling member speak.”

  “Will you speak for us?” Mother asked.

  “Yes, but I will have to talk with them tonight.”