They could celebrate this great news, after breakfast. Maybe with a kiss. Once the spell was broken, it would be safe to kiss her. The day grew more cheerful.
In the workroom, he placed the basket on the floor and looked around. A counter stretched along one wall. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases leaned against two others. A long, scarred table took center stage, surrounded by two tall stools and a long wooden bench. On the tabletop was a slender, dark-blue bound book with gold-edged pages that looked ancient. Spread open beside that was a larger, brown volume.
Charmaine set the flatbread on the worktable and turned to him. “Do you have the charm?”
She sounded efficient, pensive, an adept at her craft. A far cry from the broken woman last night who’d stomped all over his prospects for a normal life.
His heart grew bigger as hope stole back inside.
“May I see the posy, Kord? I need to dismantle it.”
“Will that destroy the spell?” He’d been tempted to rip it apart many a time, but he’d been afraid to tamper with it in case he needed it intact to break the spell. Carefully, he fished out the wilting flowers from his sack and placed it on the table.
She set to disassembling it. No hesitation. Her fingers worked so fast he couldn’t tell what she did but one by one the flowers came apart. Like the rest of her, her fingers were slender, delicate, and competent.
But she needed taking care of, fattening up. The irreverent thought would not let up. He excused his concern, deciding he didn’t want her fainting before she finished her work. Not before she’d released him from her grandmother’s spell. He opened the palm-leaf package she’d set on the table and pushed it toward her.
Intent on unraveling the posy, she didn’t notice.
He forced himself to do what he’d avoided since last night. He touched her hand to catch her attention. A spark jumped up his arm and he jerked back
His first thought, I’m doomed.
Her startled look, green eyes widening, suggested the shock had been mutual.
He cleared his throat and moving the posy aside, put the bread into her hands. “Breakfast. Eat it or I will.”
She gave him a quizzical look, her mouth curving in the barest hint of a smile. He couldn’t tear his gaze off those lips.
She nodded. “Thank you.” She took a bite. Her eyes shut, and as she chewed, her face wreathed in pleasure.
Kord swallowed. In all his delirious dreams, he’d never pictured her like this, so very beautiful. How long had it been since she had last eaten a proper meal?
Too long, her bony cheeks said.
He moved to sit across from her. The bench wobbled and he planted his feet apart, prepared for any unexpected tumble. He waited as she licked a drop of strawberry jam off her lips. Her gaze met his and delight shone in her eyes.
This woman knew how to enjoy flatbread. He’d never eat it again without being inundated with this sense of infectious enjoyment.
Once she’d taken the last bite, he asked, “So what have you found?”
“My grandmother had inserted a handwritten note into the love spell book that spoke of another volume. I found that one upstairs. Kord, this isn’t a regular witch’s book.”
At her serious tone, he leaned forward to look at the blue, leather-bound book she tapped. With glittery raised scroll augmenting its engraved surface, it looked extraordinary. Something more likely to be found at the Edensa University Library archive than in a witch’s home.
“What kind of book is it?”
“A Therquan sorcerer’s spell book.”
He sucked in his breath, his hopes of recovery plummeting. Witchery was difficult enough to overcome, but sorcery sounded impossible to break. “What does this mean?”
“The spell she cast was a mixture of two enchantments, a sorcerer’s spell to define the mark—you—as the best match for this woman who requested the love spell, and then a witch’s love spell.”
She sounded more matter-of-fact than disheartened.
He asked the question that mattered most. “Can you break them?”
“Perhaps. I believe that in the middle of your charm we will find a silver pendant. Inside the pendant are likely hairs or nails or something else that’s a part of the person you’re being forced to desire. If I take it apart, burn the bits, then even if the spell isn’t broken, it could weaken enough for you to lead a normal life.”
“What if that doesn’t work?”
She frowned as if disliking his skepticism of her strategy. “It should have some effect.”
“Why?”
Charmaine brought the sorcerer’s book to his side of the table and pointed to a page. “It says here that the tie between the subject, that’s you, and the initiator, that’s the woman, is bound strongest if silver is at the spell’s core.”
He leaned over, barely resisting the urge to hold her, to give in and give up his fight for his freedom. Somewhere between inhaling Charmaine’s sweet scent overnight and feeding her breakfast this morning, he’d forgotten why he must stand firm.
It took a moment before he could read the spell she pointed to, and then the words entrapped him. Each line outlined in verse and rhyme writhed around his mind like a python, its coils tightening.
She scurried over to the table’s far end. “I also found this.”
He swallowed and leaned his head in his hands, glad she’d moved away. Able to breath again, he thanked Ilisa for that tiny mercy but warned, This has got to stop!
Charmaine dragged another book along the table until she returned to his side, her slender arm jostling him and evoking a torturously delicious feeling.
“The woman who bought the spell from my grandmother, is her name Dora? Is she the woman you dream about?”
He wondered if his heart could take such speed, or would it give up and stop?
“Kord, is everything all right?”
Her gentle face looked so sweetly concerned that he shuddered in agony. Witches should have grating voices, horny noses, and warts on their chins. And blast your grandmother to hell for what she’s putting me through.
He took the book and leaned away from her. “I can read it without help.”
And for the love of sweet Ilisa, stop touching me.
****
Ducking her head to hide her hurt, Charmaine returned to her seat. Kord was under a great deal of pressure fighting the pull of this spell, but her torment at his harsh tone that proclaimed he hated dealing with a witch refused to lessen.
She bit her bottom lip hard until it stung and returned to dismantling the posy. Why should she care what he thought of her, any more than she cared what Anson said? The trouble was, she didn’t care a hoot if Anson looked down on her but she valued Kord’s opinion.
He’d brought her breakfast. Allowed her to eat her fill without interruption, as if he’d somehow guessed how hungry she’d been and cared.
The market people gave you that food, Charmaine. The basket of produce had nothing to do with Kord. She determinedly continued her work. But he brought it to me. He stopped my work to ensure I ate every last piece of that flatbread.
She shook her head impatiently. Such fanciful thoughts only made her sentimental and wish for things that could never be.
Her fingers touched cold metal and a spark made her drop the posy. “Ouch!”
The metal hit the tabletop with a dull clunk.
“What happened?” Kord jumped up, crashing the bench as he leaned forward, hands on the table.
“Nothing, I was startled when I touched the locket.”
“You sounded in pain.” He sounded worried.
“It sparked a little, that’s all. Unusual. Probably the spell’s residue. But at least we can get to what’s inside it now.”
She went over to the counter behind her and searched in a drawer for a pick tiny enough to work on the little silver locket. About to give up and run over to Anson’s shop to beg for an implement, her fingers touched a thin flat metal piece.
&n
bsp; Kord came over to her side of the table, hope and fear warring on his face.
“This should work.” She held out her find.
Kord picked up the locket. “I’ll hold it, so you can work with both hands free.”
She nodded and turned the locket within his long fingers so the clasp faced her. He had callused hands. Hard-working but gentle. Using the pick, she pried at the locket’s keyhole, unsuccessfully.
He took the pick and gave her the locket to hold while he tried. Within a few moments, the locket clicked and popped open, spilling its contents onto his boots. Pale blond hair like hers, a fingernail, a green thread, and a sliver of paper lay spread across his muddy black boots.
“We have to burn those,” Charmaine said.
Kord bent and retrieved the tiny items, carefully collecting them in a pile within the palm of his left hand. She led him to the hearth. Using scraps of paper as tinder, she lit them until they burned solid. The flames soon latched onto the only remaining log in the hearth.
He stood hesitant beside her, and then took her hand in his, the locket held between them, as if he needed her reassurance.
“Go on,” she said, in an encouraging voice. “This may not break the spell, but with its contents burnt, the spell should wither and weaken its hold.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then bent to toss the items into the hearth.
As he did that, Charmaine silently prayed to Ilisa to forgive her grandmother for interfering in the goddess’s holy domain by casting this love spell.
He hesitated again, and then released her hand.
She opened her eyes to look at him, to see if the act of burning those items had an effect. He looked the same, that halo still surrounded him. Disappointment sank in. She’d failed. And Kord was doomed.
“It didn’t work.” He looked at her with an intent gaze. “But that’s okay. Because I no longer care if the spell never dies.” Then unexpectedly, he flung the amulet, too, into the flames.
“Not that!” she shouted. Too late.
The silver touched the flames and light flashed inside the hearth. A powerful force slammed into Charmaine’s chest and flung her backward. She landed painfully on her backside and skidded along the floor. She cried out and then saw Kord.
He twisted and turned, his face contorting in agony, as that ever-present glow from the spell that surrounded him changed in color, glowing redder, pulsing and warping.
She scrambled to her feet to run to his aid, afraid her interference was killing him. Before she could reach him, that glow around him broke free and, like an avenging spirit flew straight for her. She ducked and it whizzed by.
Did she imagine it, or did that light have a halo of silver at the crown of a beautiful female face? The spear of blue light spun and aimed for her again.
Charmaine screamed in terror, convinced the goddess meant to strike her down as she had her grandmother. She streaked for the door. Justin choose that unfortunate moment to scoot in front of her and sit, blocking her path. She stumbled to keep from tripping over him and the blazing arrow pierced her, burning into her back like lightning.
She cried out as every inch of her skin flamed. Kord moaned out her name and another hot quiver shot from her heart to her toes. She jerked. Justin leaped out of the way as she fell forward. Her head struck the wooden door. Pain slicked through her head and all went dark.
****
Kord sat on the floor cradling Charmaine.
“Wake up.” He brushed her cheek with gentle fingertips. Her cheekbones were visible beneath her pale skin. “Don’t die!” He made it an order but she didn’t respond. “I don’t want you to die.”
He squeezed her hand. Unresponsive. “Charmaine, wake up!”
He stared at her still form in shock. He couldn’t lose her. Feeling helpless, he glanced at the ceiling where braches hung from ropes tied to hooks. Herbs, no doubt for spell casting. And a hundred other witchly things on the shelves and table. Items that could help her surrounded him but he didn’t know enough to make use of one of them.
“Meow,” Justin said and lay beside Charmaine.
“She won’t wake up, Justin.” Kord took a harsh breath that scraped along his throat like sandpaper. “Holy Ilisa, once I asked you to destroy this witch”—he took another breath, wincing in pain—“but I’ve changed my mind. Do you hear me? I’ve changed my mind!”
In his arms, Charmaine stirred. “What have you changed your mind about?”
“You’re alive,” Kord whispered, unable to believe it. Joy shivered through him. He wanted to kiss her. To tell her he was sorry for asking her to break that spell and for almost killing her in the attempt. But all he could say was, “You’re alive.”
“As are you.” Charmaine sat up and swayed. He braced her, no longer afraid to touch her. In fact, he couldn’t stop touching her. Why had he fought the spell so hard for so long? Charmaine was a beautiful, kind-hearted, talented woman. So she was a witch. What woman didn’t have a fault or two?
She attempted to stand and he scrambled to help.
“Are you all right?” She gave him an uncertain look.
“You’re the one who almost died.”
“I saw how the spell affected you as it dismantled. That must have hurt.”
He frowned, confused. “The spell didn’t dismantle, Charmaine. Probably got a little peeved because we tried to break it. Why don’t you sit? The backlash hit you the worst.”
“Thank you.” She sat on a stool and shut her eyes, taking a breath. When she opened her eyelids, that pale glaze that had come over her eyes once before returned as she looked at him. Then she blinked and said with a wan smile, “Yes, it did work, Kord.”
“What worked?”
“The love spell. It’s broken.” She shook her head and then looked toward the hearth. “When you threw the locket into the fire, that must have done it. Fire is a powerful disrupter of spells. I worried it would harm you, since the spell on that locket had taken such a strong hold. I was wrong.”
“You are wrong.”
“What do you mean, Kord?
“The spell isn’t broken.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
She stood, her eyes going spooky again and paced around him. This time, she didn’t scare him because whether her eyes shone green or milky white, they still belonged to a woman he trusted. Who was gentle. And his.
A cautious voice warned that just because he loved her, it didn’t mean she returned the feeling. The thrill of the hunt reared, sweet as honey.
She stopped in front of him looking adorably confused. “Kord, the aura that surrounded you is gone. You are free. Believe me. You can fall in love again, with whomever you wish.”
All he’d done since breaking into her house was threaten and harass her. She probably thought he was a lunatic. His mind raced through the best ways to show her his true character. He could start by convincing her he no longer cared about the spell or her inability to fix it. He didn’t need a perfect witch. Just this one.
He moved closer and spoke in a soft, reassuring voice. “Charmaine, I don’t mind about you not breaking the spell. So don’t worry about that any more. All right?”
“But it is gone.”
Why wouldn’t she get off this beleaguered subject? “No. It. Isn’t.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because of this.” He tossed aside all his plans to go slow and he did what he’d wanted to do for months. He drew her into his arms and kissed her. Long. And thoroughly.
He’d once thought that if he held her like this and kissed this woman, the fierce wanting of her would escalate. He’d been absolutely correct. Kissing wasn’t nearly enough.
His hands roamed over her body, which surprisingly wasn’t bony at all but delightfully curvy. He pulled her intimately close, tempted to carry her upstairs then and there to test if her cot could hold them both. He doubted it, but didn’t care if they ended up on th
at cold, hard floor as long as they landed together.
With a stunned gasp, she pulled back, evading his attempts to reclaim her. “Me?” she asked in a shaken voice. “The spell was for you to love me?”
“Every moment of every day and every night.” He approached slower this time, not wanting to scare her. He tucked a lock of her long blond hair behind her delicate ear. “You’ve grown too skinny since your grandmother cast that spell. I plan to fix that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your grandmother wanted to find you a suitable man and in her good witchly wisdom, and apparently with the help of a sorcerer’s spell, she chose me.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
She seemed to be having a difficult time grasping events. Would another kiss help?
She sidestepped his reach. “Kord, that spell on you is broken. While active, an aura surrounded you. I could see it. And when you threw that locket in the fire, that disrupted the spell and it struck at me.”
He shrugged. Why so much talk when they could resolve the entire problem if she would just admit she was as attracted to him as he was to her?
She was right about one thing, though. The spell had been affected by what they did to the locket. Where before it had prodded and poked at him to make her his, now he wanted to urge her to make him hers.
She’d gone quiet and thoughtful. That didn’t bode well. “What are you thinking?”
“The enchantment must have attacked me, Kord, because you were spelled to love me. A necessary part of breaking the spell. It’s truly over now.” She looked at him with an uncertain smile. “What…what you’re still feeling for me.” The most delicate blush stained her cheeks making his heart skip a beat. “If you wait awhile, maybe a day, a week, a month, you won’t feel this way.”
She might as well have slapped him. “What are you saying?”
“You should leave, go back to Camden.” She hurried into the other room.
He swore and took a couple of breaths to ease the constriction in his chest. He couldn’t lose her now. Finally he was ready to lay his heart at her feet and she wanted him to go home? The scene with Cela rejecting him replayed in vivid detail. Except, the pain then was nothing compared to this devastation.
The Misspelled Charm Page 4
