The League of Illusion: Legacy

by Anna, Vivi

  “How do you make a practice dummy laugh on Friday?”

  Woody moved to the left. Jovan watched its lower leg.

  “Tell it a joke on Monday.”

  The attack came from below, just as he anticipated. Woody was becoi>

  Jovan jumped over the swinging leg and countered with a roundhouse backhand to its upper torso. The dummy backed up from the blow. Then it came at him with a one-two combination with its side arms. Jovan ducked, blocked, then countered with an uppercut to the midsection. Woody’s third prong struck him in the shoulder as he came up to punch.

  The hit to the meaty part of his arm stung. He’d have a bruise the size of a date by evening.

  As Woody backed up, Jovan swore he heard it chuckle. The sound was much like two sticks rubbing together.

  “Don’t get cocky, Woodpecker. You’re not that good.”

  As if in a frenzy, the practice dummy flew at him, wooden arms and legs swiping at him in a flurry of moves. He ducked, leaped, blocked and countered until his arms burned with exertion. And still Woody came at him, relentlessly.

  Fast as light, Jovan successfully blocked and countered every jab and cross the dummy made. But then he didn’t see the hook aimed at the side of his head.

  His knees wobbled and he went down like cut timber.

  Lying crumpled on his side, he tried to blink away the black spots wavering in his vision. The room was spinning like a top. He wiped at his face with his gloved hand, trying to regain full consciousness.

  He blinked several times to see Woody looming over him like a demented tree intent on exacting revenge for all the furnishings carved from it.

  Licking his lips to find his voice, Jovan murmured, “Dormio.”

  Woody froze in place, its extra legs receding into its wooden body. After a few minutes, it was back to being a regular Wing Chun practice dummy and not a homicidal walking stick.

  Sighing with relief, Jovan rolled over to his knees and managed to gain his feet without falling over again. At first he was shaky but it passed as he crossed the room to sit on the cushioned bench.

  Hanging his head, he picked up the water jug he’d carried down from the kitchen and dribbled water over his head and face. The cool liquid woke him up a bit. To think he’d almost been coldcocked by an animated coatrack. His mind had obviously been elsewhere to have let Woody get that close.

  Once more Skylar set up house in his head.

  Maybe it had been a mistake to ask the council to call her in. He just knew she was the best tracker around and they needed her expertise to locate Sebastian. Their brother had effectively and efficiently disappeared, covering all his tracks. Jovan should know. He’d tried to find him, searching for him for over a year without any hint of where he’d gone.

  They were out of their league here. Neither Rhys nor he was an expert at sniffing out people. Skylar had made a life of it. As the League’s top tracker she had been trained from the age of sixteen to hone her natural ability and gifts to track people down. Especially the type of folk who never wanted to be found.

  But he’d had no idea seeing her again would put him into such a state of turmoil.

  He grabbed a towel and, walking toward the double wooden-and-glass doors to the gardens, wiped his face. Dawn was approaching. Along the horizon, the first pink and purple hues bled into the dark sky. It was his favorite part of the day. The beginning, with all its possibilities, never failed to fill him with a sense of hope. For what exactly, he wasighctly, h never quite sure. Maybe on this day, it was the hope that Skylar could find his brother before Blake took his last breath.

  Jovan pushed the doors open. The fresh cool air caressed his sweat-soaked body and he shivered. Taking in a breath to clear his head, he stepped out onto the cobblestone pad.

  It was then that he saw her.

  Facing the east, Skylar sat cross-legged on a bamboo mat in the middle of the immaculate garden. In the predawn light Jovan could see her back was bare, the long plait of her pale hair bisecting her exquisite V form in half. Her cream silk robe bunched around her hips as she waited for the dawn, eyes closed, he imagined.

  Unable to tear his gaze away, Jovan watched transfixed as the first hesitant signs of the sun fell onto Skylar’s form. The horizon turned color, from pink to orange to a pale buttery hue. As the sky started to glow with warmth and beauty, so did her skin.

  At first the luminosity was muted and tentative, but as the sun peeked over the top of the horizon and the rays pierced the dark, a dynamic radiance shimmered over her body, bathing the surrounding bushes and grass in light.

  He should’ve turned away and respected her private time but he couldn’t miss the opportunity to revel in her brilliance. It warmed his skin and his soul. Seeing her as she truly was, in connection with the sun, a part of it, made him quiver with awe and excitement. There had never been a more beautiful woman than Skylar. Nothing, no piece of art or nature, could ever compare to her.

  He had been a fool to think he could ever erase her from his mind. After witnessing such a stirring display of her power and splendor, he wondered why he’d even tried.

  “It’s rude to watch someone communing with the dawn.”

  Jovan startled as Skylar pulled the sides of her robe up over her shoulders and secured it around her waist. Crouching, she rolled up the mat and slid it under her arm.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were out here.” He gestured to the open door behind him. “I was just practicing my katas and I needed some fresh air.”

  When she neared him, he saw the golden ring around the irises of her eyes. He’d been blessed to see that color before, blazing at him from beneath the hood of her long dark lashes. The first night they’d made love—the night he’d taken her virginity—her eyes had glowed as bright as the sun.

  Self-conscious, Skylar lowered her gaze. “Please don’t look at me like that. You relinquished that privilege some years ago.” She brushed past him to go into the training room.

  “I could offer an apology.” He trailed in after her. “But even I can’t help what goes on in my mind.”

  “Yes, you were always one to act on your impulses.” She eyed him with cool detachment. “My father always said you lacked discipline.”

  Jovan tossed his towel on the bench. “How is dear old Lord Soren?”

  She smiled sardonically. “He sends his best to Mr. Davenport. I have a gift to give to him.”

  Jovan chuckled. It didn’t surprise him that Lord Soren didn’t send him his regards. The Druid lord had nothing but disdain for him. While Jovan and Skylar had been involved, he’d made it very well known just how much contempt he harbored. He’d said Jovan wasn’t good enough for his daughter and that he would never allow them to marry. The ironic thing was, h hething we’d been right.

  She moved around the room, surveying his training equipment, especially the bo staffs hanging on the wall. She had an affinity to the weapon. It had been her chosen weapon when she first started her training. He remembered vividly the way she used to run her hands over the polished bamboo when she’d let him watch her train. Even now, his heart thumped thinking of it. When it came to Skylar, he couldn’t help but think with his lower regions.

  She was a sensate being through and through. Every move she made, every nuance, possessed fluidity and sensuality. Just regarding her now, he felt the first gut-wrenching punches of desire.

  “I’m not that careless young man you used to know, Skylar. I’ve developed quite a bit of discipline.”

  She raked her gaze over him from toe to head. “Then that’s why your wooden dummy managed to nearly knock you unconscious?” She touched her left temple to indicate his throbbing head. Obviously, a mark had already blossomed, clear evidence of his mishap.

  “Woody got lucky. It had nothing to do with my discipline or my skill.”

  “Skill, huh?”

  Jovan walked to the wall and pulled a bo from its mount. He twirled the long wooden staff. “Care to see that skill?�
�� He tossed it to her.

  Dropping the mat, Skylar caught the staff in midair with her right hand. She performed the same twirl that Jovan had, then proceeded to do it with her left hand, then with both, swung it around her body and over her head, ending with it securely in both hands in a defensive position. One eyebrow arched.

  Jovan smiled. She’d gotten better with the stick. A whole hell of a lot better. Her years at the secluded Druidian tracker training camp had obviously been well utilized. Maybe he should start to worry. His little lesson in skills just might end up biting him in the arse, or quite literally smacking him in the head.

  He pulled another staff from the wall. “I see you’ve been practicing,” he said as he moved toward her, the stick held up to one side in a ready position.

  Grinning, Skylar spun her staff around and held it snug against her side, pointing out toward her opponent. “Every day for seven years.”

  “This should be interesting, then.” He moved slowly, cautiously, looking for an opening.

  “Oh, I guarantee it.”

  Before Jovan could take his next breath, Skylar swung around to the right, bringing her staff down in an arc. His eyes widened when he realized that it was coming down right on top of his head.

  Chapter Four

  Skylar missed him by a mere inch. It was too bad really. She hoped to brain him at least once during the match. He seriously needed to have his head knocked about a time or two—to maybe knock some arrogance out of him.

  Jovan sidestepped to the right and brought his staff up to meet hers. The clacking noise of the polished wood reverberated through the room. She reveled in that sound. There was nothing she enjoyed more than a good sparring match.

  Especially with this man. This reckless rake who’d broken her heart.

  “Hmm, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were really trying to injure me.” Grinning, he shufidifled back and swung his staff around to the side in a defensive pose.

  Emotions she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in bubbled to the surface. Gripping the staff tighter, she brought it up and around, intent on striking his shoulder.

  Anger fueled her as she managed to clip him before he could dodge the swing. The tip of the wood hit him in the meaty part of the shoulder. His smile quickly faded.

  And hers broadened.

  He circled his arm, trying to relieve the sting he must’ve been feeling. “I didn’t realize you were so bloodthirsty. Druids are supposed to be peaceful people.”

  “I’m not usually. You must bring that out in me, sir.”

  Bringing her bo into her body, Skylar circled around Jovan, looking for his weak area, an area she could capitalize on. He followed her lead and circled her as well. As he eyed her, she knew he was readjusting his initial view of her skills. It had been many years since he’d seen her fight. She’d been a girl then, eager to please and enamored by the young Davenport sorcerer. Now she was a woman.

  She’d toughened up. She drew in her emotions and didn’t allow them to dictate her actions. When she fought, she was focused one hundred percent on the desired aim—to bring down the opponent in as few moves as possible.

  Except for this opponent. Emotion was pretty much all that directed her actions. Jovan brought it out in her. Pure irrational emotion. It had been one of the reasons she’d fallen for him so hard.

  The day they met she’d been seventeen and terrified of meeting Blake Davenport and his sons. She’d accompanied her father to dinner at Davenport Hall because he insisted she be out in society. At dinner, her hands had been shaking so badly that she dropped her fork. Jovan had been the only one to see, so he’d quietly slipped under the table and retrieved it for her. No one had noticed. No one but her. Her dormant emotions had been ignited the very moment he handed her the fork and his fingers had brushed against hers.

  Skylar struck out with her staff, this time at his leg. He jumped over the swing and came back with his own blow. She blocked it then retaliated. Back and forth they went. Strike, block, strike, block. Neither one hitting their intended marks.

  By the time she’d come around full circle on the mat, sweat trickled down her back. The silk of her robe stuck to her skin like paste. He was making her work for it. It seemed he too had been practicing. He was better than she’d assumed. It wouldn’t be an easy victory. But there was no doubt in her mind that she’d have that victory.

  She didn’t practice nonstop every day of her life to not have Jovan suffer at least a little. It was most unladylike for her to harbor those thoughts, but then again she never claimed to be a lady at all.

  “You’re very skilled,” he said, as he settled his bo lower on his hip. He was obviously trying to distract her so he could attack.

  “I know.” The thing that made her angry was that he didn’t need to speak to be a distraction. He did it all by himself without opening his mouth.

  Sweat made his hair damp. It looped freely around his ears. She’d always found that small thing attractive. Many times she’d run her hands through his hair, reveling in the way the silky strands felt against her fingers.

  Gripping her staff tighter, Skylar swung it around her body Cundy sand struck at Jovan. He blocked it but barely. Surprise at her fierce attack pushed him back a few steps. She advanced on him, not allowing him to gain his breath or his wits. Every time he took a step back, she pushed forward. They danced like that across the room and back again.

  “It appears we’re evenly matched.” He grinned that sly grin of his and it made Skylar’s blood boil.

  “Not likely.” She swung her staff at his legs, but he saw it coming and easily jumped. But he didn’t anticipate her foot to follow it along.

  She managed to hook his ankles with her right foot and pulled him forward. He lost his balance and tumbled to the mat, his arms spiraling to keep his balance. But it was pointless. He fell onto his back with a definitive oomph as the air was pushed from his lungs by the impact.

  “That was most unseemly.”

  She smiled sweetly down at him. “I know.” Satisfied that she put him down, Skylar went to walk away and grab her mat so she could leave. But Jovan had his own dirty move in mind.

  He twirled his index finger in the air. “Pello.”

  An invisible force pushed at her legs, making her stumble. She tumbled to the mat. Jovan scrambled over to her and, straddling her waist, effectively pinned her to the ground. His hands pressed on her shoulders, he looked down at her, a gloating expression shining in his eyes. “I win.”

  “You’re a ruthless cad.”

  “Yes, I’m fully aware of that.”

  She tried to hide her smile. But it came regardless. She missed his playfulness. She just plain old missed him. Even now, after all these years, she yearned for him. To feel his entire body pressed against hers.

  Smiling, he leaned his head toward hers. Her breath hitched in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? Oh blessed Gods, she did, very much.

  She still remembered the first time they’d kissed. He’d been secretly courting her, as the custom was for Druids to marry Druids. It was the Summer Solstice Ball and they’d danced three dances in a row, under her father’s watchful eye. After the dances, she’d snuck out to the gardens for some fresh air. Jovan had found her there. In a pool of moonlight he’d cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She’d thought she’d been drawn into that moonbeam and transported to the moon.

  The thought startled her. The intensity of it still twisted her in knots. Then she remembered she was not seventeen anymore

  Before he could reach her mouth, she bucked her body and pushed him off. She scrambled out from him, pushing to her feet. Strands of hair had come loose from her braid and hung in her face. She swatted at them and tried to gain her composure.

  “Thank you for the sparring match. It was most stimulating.” Lifting her head, she gathered her mat under her arm. She wanted nothing more than to return to the guest bedroom, bathe and forget, if she
could, how wonderful it felt to have Jovan touch her again.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Skylar,” he said from the mat. He’d yet to move from where she’d bucked him off.

  She just nodded to him and rushed to leave the room. Once again Jovan had managed to scramble her brain and her heart. He had the uncanny ability to do both at the same time. And she imagined he had no idea that he’d done either.

  But she C="- both at t wasn’t going to let him know. She was here to do a job—to find Sebastian. And that was what she was going to do. Once it was done, she would leave and go on with her life. Pretending that Jovan Davenport didn’t mean anything to her. That her heart didn’t race at the sight of him. That every inch of her flesh didn’t itch to slide up against his own.

  And what was they said about fools and thei

  r notions?

  Chapter Five

  The glowing sphere of red-orange light hovered about five feet above Darin Hawthorne’s head. It had taken him roughly two hours to perfect the firelight spell. Now that he had, a feeling of self-satisfaction filled him. His last private instructor had told him he wasn’t ready to learn the spell, claiming that Darin wasn’t disciplined enough to accomplish it. That had been the last thing the damnable fool had said before Darin had him tossed off the estate.

  When he became head of the League of Illusion, he’d have the old goat stripped of his magic. There’d be a lot of changes when Darin took power. Ridding old sorcerers of their magic was just one of many things he had in mind.

  The door to the practice room opened unexpectedly and Gustav, one of the servants, entered. “Your father wishes to see you, my lord.”

  Startled, Darin flinched, breaking his concentration. The ball of fire plummeted to the floor. The sphere burst open and spurts of fire scattered all over. He had to jump out of the way before being splattered with sparks. The flames snuffed out almost instantaneously but not before they scorched parts of the freshly waxed tiled floor.

  “Damn it!” he bellowed, then turned to glare at Gustav. “Look what you made me do, you idiot.”