Fugitive by Magic: a Baine Chronicles novel (The Baine Chronicles: Fenris's Story Book 1)

by Jasmine Walt

  I snorted at that, shoving him away. “I hardly need saving,” I said, rubbing the stone on my finger to reactivate the illusion. “But even so, I will gladly accept your assistance for the evening.”

  Fenris’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he changed back into the handsome apprentice. “Then allow me to escort you to your carriage, my lady.”

  I took his arm, and he led me down to the foyer, where I could see a gleaming black steamcar waiting outside through the sparkling glass doors. Despite my old lady guise, I felt like a princess going to a ball, especially when the uniformed driver opened the door and Fenris helped me into the vehicle.

  “Is ‘Fennias’ a real person, or did you make him up?” I asked as we sped off around the corner.

  “He did exist—a young mage, long dead, from a distinguished family in the central continent. You can say I am a sixth-year apprentice, if anyone asks. And if the worst should happen, you can simply tell them the truth, which a truth wand can verify—you never knew my real identity.”

  A shiver crawled down my spine at the way he so casually spoke about the disaster we flirted with. The central continent was an ocean away—there was little to no chance of the Chief Mage knowing the family of the mage Fenris was impersonating. But still… “You really didn’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I did,” Fenris said simply, squeezing my hand.

  I had to fight to keep the blush out of my cheeks.

  By the time we pulled up in front of the manor, I’d regained my haughty composure. A red carpet had been rolled out across the garden path, leading straight to the front doors that had been thrown wide open. Music and light spilled out from the open doors and through the window panes, and as Fenris and I passed through the entrance, I could hear tinkling laughter and the buzz of conversation.

  A guard dressed in fine livery greeted us with a bow, then escorted us to the ballroom down the hall. My anxiety rose as I beheld the room full of people—among over a hundred persons, there had to be at least eighty mages, maybe even more, decked out in colorful robes and jewels as they swirled about the dance floor or stood in groups, talking and drinking champagne. I grabbed my fear by the throat and shoved it down as a tall, regal-looking mage dressed in deep red robes stepped forward, a stunningly beautiful woman on his arm.

  “Zander ar’Mees, the Chief Mage, and his wife, Marilla,” Fenris said in my head.

  “Good evening, Lord Zander,” I said, bowing. “Thank you for your kind invitation. I am Tuala Harmon, currently residing in Abbsville.”

  “It’s a pleasure to have you,” Lord Zander said smoothly, his dark blue eyes bright with curiosity. He had a narrow but handsome face framed by a mane of silver-streaked black hair. “This is my wife, Marilla,” he said, and I bowed to her as well.

  “Zander says he has met your family,” Marilla purred, “during his travels on the East Coast about a century ago. But you were not amongst them when he visited.”

  “I have lived all over the Federation,” I said coolly, turning my attention to the Chief Mage again. “But I am pleased we have had occasion to finally meet.”

  “And who is your handsome friend?” Clostina, resplendent in pink and gold, gushed as she glided up alongside her grandparents. Those doe-colored eyes gleamed with frank interest as she sized up Fenris, who had been standing patiently by my side the entire time.

  “Oh, how rude of me.” I turned to Fenris. “This is my apprentice, Fennias ar’Lutis. He is rather accomplished for his age, and already in his sixth year.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Fenris said in that melodious baritone, bowing to the ladies. He kissed both Marilla and Clostina’s hands, and the latter blushed, even though, as a full mage, she was higher ranked than him.

  The Chief Mage and his family made polite conversation with us for a few minutes, then went to greet the next guest. It was a relief to see them go, especially since Clostina spent the entire time flirting madly with Fenris. But just as soon as we moved into the crowd to find refreshments, another mage couple came up to us, wanting introductions and peppering me with questions about my famous bet to try to pass for human. With whom had I made it, and why? For how much? Where had I come from? What had I done before I moved here? Did I have a family waiting back home? And how did I manage to continue Fennias’s apprenticeship this entire time?

  I’d prepared for all of these questions except the last one, but Fenris managed to coach me into giving a plausible response involving correspondence and occasional meetings. As the hours dragged on, I grew increasingly grateful for his presence, especially when the conversation turned to mage politics and high-society gossip. I knew nothing about any of these subjects, but mysteriously, Fenris did, and he helped me navigate the treacherous waters so well I impressed the others with my knowledge and insights. Was there anything he didn’t know?

  “You are doing splendidly,” Fenris assured me as we sat in one of the side rooms off the ballroom, drinking from glasses of sparkling wine. He had magically removed the alcohol from mine. We’d determined it would be best if I didn’t allow myself to become inebriated under these circumstances. Around us, sitting on various stuffed couches and chaises, older ladies were taking a break from the festivities to play cribbage and other card games. They’d invited me to join, but I didn’t have patience for those games, and I merely perched on a chaise and told them I’d prefer to watch.

  Eventually, we were called back into the ballroom for an elaborate five-course dinner. The Chief Mage had placed me at his table, and had an extra chair brought for my “apprentice,” whom they had not been expecting. I endured another hour of talk about politics as we dined. Fenris seemed particularly interested when talk of the Resistance came up.

  “Happily, the Resistance seems to be on the retreat ever since the Benefactor was unmasked and caught last year,” Fenris said. “Have you been experiencing trouble with the rebels here in Watawis?”

  “None,” the Chief Mage said easily, cutting off another bite of his steak. “Watawis is quite secure in its loyalty to the Federation. We did recently catch a jeweler who was producing counterfeit coin, after the Chief Mage of Canalo sent out a general warning to be on the lookout. It turned out the fellow acted from greed and had no political motive at all. He’ll be punished anyway, of course—we must set an example.”

  “Of course,” Fenris said smoothly, but there was a flash of something in his eyes, gone almost too quickly for me to notice. He seemed more interested in gossip about the Resistance than anything else we’d discussed tonight, and I wondered again if he had any involvement with the rebels. He knew a lot about mages…but he had also taken great pains to stay as far away from them as possible.

  Which is completely understandable, given they would likely strip him of his powers if they found out about his true nature.

  Right. I cast the thought out of my head. Of course Fenris wasn’t a rebel. He was simply doing what he had to do to survive.

  After the meal was over, the Chief Mage invited other mages onto a small stage to demonstrate their latest techniques. A reed-thin woman with brilliant gold hair sashayed onto the stage and spun an enchanting vision of ballerinas dancing, crafted of red, blue, and gold flames. It was not the flames that were stunning, or the fact they did not burn the stage, but rather how carefully crafted they were, spun into such lifelike renderings that the lacy tulle of the gowns, the gleaming skeins of hair, the curve of calves and cheeks, seemed amazingly real. But the heat emanating from the stage…if I tried to dance with them, I would surely roast.

  Another mage turned a simple jade necklace into a legendary bird with teal and gold feathers, whose every movement charged the air and crackled with lightning. The next, with seemingly little effort, changed the entire ballroom’s ceiling into a starry night sky and made us feel as if we were all floating in the middle of space, far beyond Recca’s atmosphere. As more mages paraded up to the stage to show off their accomplishments, my stomach sank lower and lower. The f
eats were spectacular, but they only drove home how little I knew of magic. Less than the rawest apprentice, I realized, as even a few of them came up to the stage to show off.

  Finally, the Chief Mage turned to me. “Miss Harmon, would you like to show the room what you can do?”

  Panic tried to grip me again, but I gave the Chief Mage a lazy smile. “I am far too old for such games,” I said, waving an indulgent hand toward Fenris, “but my apprentice would be more than happy to demonstrate something he recently learned.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Fenris said. He inclined his head with a wink at me, but instead of pushing back his chair and heading up to the stage, he simply picked up an empty wine bottle from the table and held it in his palm, turning it slowly between deft fingers. Tendrils of hazy magic began to rise from his skin as he worked whatever spell he’d thought of, and I heard Clostina gasp from the other end of the table as the green glass gradually began to change shape, forming into a ball. The magical mist swirled around it, hiding it from view, and when it parted…

  “Beautiful,” the Chief Mage murmured as Fenris handed his creation over to him.

  It was a glass globe of Recca, the size of a grapefruit, but crafted to scale, right down to the last detail. I leaned in slightly, forcing an expression of boredom on my face as I watched the clouds drifting across the surface, passing over the various continents, green and brown and white where the ice was. The oceans rippled between the land masses, lazily following the major currents I knew were accurate from my childhood geography lessons.

  “This is very advanced for a sixth-year apprentice,” the Chief Mage’s wife said, looking thoroughly impressed. “You must train him very hard.”

  “He is a gifted student, but yes, I am quite a taskmaster.” I allowed a small smile to flit across my lips as I sat back in my chair.

  The rest of the demonstrations went by quickly after that, and the tables were cleared away so the dancing could begin again. As Fenris and I made to move away, the Chief Mage’s wife said, “There is one thing I meant to ask you about.”

  Slowly, I turned around. “And what is that?”

  Her gaze narrowed on Fenris. “Why is it that your apprentice wears a disguise? Is his real face not handsome enough?”

  Fear tightened my gut, but Fenris smoothly stepped in. “I change appearances quite frequently—it is the whim of my mistress,” he declared grandly, a broad smile on his face. Before everyone’s eyes, he quickly began shifting through a variety of forms, each one more handsome than the last. The crowd gasped—several of them were even shifters—and the Chief Mage and his family watched, their gazes wide with shock. “It is also excellent practice,” he said, reverting to his original disguise with a flourish.

  As one, everybody turned speculating gazes to me. There were scandalized looks on many of their faces, especially the women, and Clostina’s mouth stood open. It was obvious they were wondering just what other “preferences” my young apprentice catered to…so I decided to go for broke.

  “At my age,” I drawled, laying a frail arm over Fenris’s broad shoulders, “surely I have the right to surround myself with pretty objects to look upon. It makes the training so much more enjoyable.”

  They all looked at Fenris, whose smile only widened. “I am always happy to fulfill any order from my mistress.”

  The Chief Mage, realizing the sensation this was causing, ordered the music to resume. Everyone else took that as a cue to stop gawking, and the dance floor began to fill once more. But as Fenris and I took our leave, thanking our hosts once more, I had to hold in giggles at the expressions of those around us as we passed. Fenris’s own face remained placid, as far as I could tell, but I did not dare to look too closely—if I caught his eye, I might very well break down.

  It was only when we finally got into the cab and were safely driving away that we began snickering like idiots. The driver glanced in his rearview mirror, no doubt thinking we were either inebriated or insane, but we completely ignored him.

  “That was some performance,” I said in mindspeak, my mental voice still rife with laughter.

  Fenris chuckled. “You’re one to talk,” he said, twining his fingers with mine. “I’ve never had a woman treat me like a boy-toy before. It was quite an enlightening experience.”

  I grinned. “If you don’t want to be a boy-toy, then perhaps you shouldn’t dress up to look like eye candy.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss against my temple. “So long as it’s for you.”

  20

  Fenris

  Since I’d already reserved a steamcar for the evening, I directed the driver to drop us off at the rental company, then took the wheel for the long drive back to Abbsville. We made a very brief stop at the hotel to get Mina’s belongings, then headed straight home—as much as I would have preferred to spend the night, I had not arranged for anyone to care for my horses, and I was loath to leave my farm unattended.

  A few miles out of town, I changed us back to our natural shapes and hid Mina’s purple robes with an illusion. They were too long for her real size but could probably be shortened. Not that she would have the right to wear them openly for many years yet.

  Mina didn’t notice the change. She had fallen sound asleep within minutes of our departure, her head tilted back in the seat as she snored softly. With the illusion no longer hiding her features, she looked adorable, her pretty features relaxed, her full lips slightly parted. More than once, I found myself reaching out to brush back a strand of the blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders or trace the curve of her soft cheek highlighted by the moonlight streaming in through the window.

  But I did not want to wake her, so I contented myself with the memory of her lips against mine, how soft and sweet they had felt when I’d finally kissed her back at the hotel room. Her sweet lavender and sunshine scent that filled the car brought the scene to life in my mind’s eye—the sensation of her soft curves pressed against me, the pounding of her heart beneath those shimmering purple robes, the sleepy desire in her eyes as I’d finally forced myself to pull back.

  Negotiating a sharp bend, I pushed the seductive images out of my mind before I drove off the road. That would certainly kill any blossoming romance between us.

  By the time we rolled into Abbsville, the entire town was asleep, with only one or two lights flickering in the windows of the houses we passed. I pulled up in front of Mina’s house, then leaned in and pressed a kiss against her brow, as I’d been itching to do for the past three hours.

  “Time to wake up, Mina,” I murmured against her skin.

  She responded with a sleepy moan, her lashes fluttering. “Home already?” she murmured, her breath warm against my face.

  I nodded, then reached across to unbuckle her seatbelt. The cab was spacious enough that it took little effort to lift her from the seat, and I ignored her sleepy protests as I carried her inside. A simple spell had the door opening without having to touch it, and I used another spell to close and lock it behind us as I brought her to her room.

  “Thank you…” she murmured, her eyelids still closed as I laid her down on the bed. “For…for everything…”

  “You’re more than welcome.” I pulled her slippers off her feet, then gently tucked her beneath the covers.

  “Please…stay…” Her hand lifted to brush against my face, and her eyelids opened to half-mast. Heavy with sleep…but also desire. I’d scented it on her more than once during these past few weeks, and had chosen to ignore it, but the way she was lying in front of me now, warm and open and relaxed…it would be so easy to take her now. To strip that lovely robe off her willowy curves and worship her body, as my own was aching to do.

  But I did not want our first time to be like this, with Mina half-delirious from exhaustion. I wanted her awake and alert, ready to experience our joining to the fullest. So I merely brushed a kiss against her soft, rosy lips and left before I could give in to the urges that called to me jus
t as surely as the moon overhead.

  The next morning, I rose with the sun, unwilling to waste any more hours in sleep. Thoughts of Mina, of what I had refused when I’d left her house the night before, plagued me both waking and in my dreams. Since she was not here, there was nothing I could do but get away from my fantasies and get on with the day.

  But as I stood in my kitchen in my pajama pants, frying an omelet, my thoughts drifted to Mina once more. She was the kind of girl I should have married when I was younger, a respectable mage with a brilliant future ahead of me. But I had never met someone like her in those days, a mage full of kindness and grace but with a spine of steel beneath that gentle exterior.

  Even if you had met someone like her, would you have been able to truly appreciate her? a voice in my head asked. I had been so wrapped up in my career, I likely would have thought her too unsophisticated, too innocent, to be a politician’s wife.

  What a fool Polar ar’Tollis had been.

  But I was not Polar anymore. I was Fenris, and as Fenris…if Mina invited me to her bed again, I would not refuse. In fact, I planned to coax her into mine at the first opportunity.

  The sound of a horse trotting down my drive interrupted my daydreams. I shut off the stove and went to the window to see who it could be. My heart leapt in my chest—my very bare chest, I belatedly remembered—at the sight of Mina, looking entirely too fresh and lovely for someone who had stayed up as late as she did.

  But then again, she had slept in the car. And what did I care? She was here, and that was all that mattered.

  I turned toward my bedroom to put on a shirt as she dismounted from her horse…then thought better of it. I’d liked the way she’d looked at me when I’d come out from the stables that day, slick with sweat. Even with hay plastered on my chest, she’d looked ready to tackle me right then and there, the horses be damned. It had been very difficult to hide my reaction to her every time her desire was stirred—my predatory instincts had risen every time, eager to claim what her body was offering.