Chapter Sixteen
Jisuel’s house stood, rustic and strangely beautiful, in the clearing ahead. The wood and stone building blended naturally into the forest, as entitled to be there as the trees themselves.
Kayla came to a halt, and Rane stood close beside her, feeling the infinitesimal loosening of the enchantment’s grip. They stared at the house, neither saying a word.
This was the place. There was no doubting it.
Rane had to wonder why Jisuel had appeared when he had, why he had extended the invitation to them to stay.
Had he somehow learned what Eric had commanded them to do? Or was this the single largest stroke of fortune Rane had ever had?
It could be pure chance, or a trap.
“So Eric did lie. There is no witch called Ylana, he made it up so we wouldn’t know we’d have to steal the jewel from Jisuel.” Kayla turned, spoke quietly into his ear, and he realized she had the same sense as he, that everything around them was watching. Holding its breath.
“The name Jisuel is enough to give most people pause.” He spoke just as quietly back, and drew her closer, looping an arm around her shoulder. He wanted to feel her against him again. She set his senses on fire, but she also calmed him. Helped him find some inner peace.
He would never have thought that would be so, when they had started this journey.
To his surprise, she slipped an arm around his waist and leaned into him, and he brought his other arm up, held her close.
They stood in silence, wrapped together, and Rane felt the tension drain from him. He closed his eyes and breathed her scent.
“Why are people scared of Jisuel? What is he?” Her question was muffled against his shirt.
“No one knows what he is. He buys magical objects, as many from me as he can, and from others. And there are whispers he causes trouble. I’ve heard it said he’s behind the destruction of at least three sorcerers’ projects.”
“So he has something against sorcerers.” Kayla turned her head, rested it against his chest as she looked back at the house. “Which isn’t good for us, if we get caught. Given we’re working for a sorcerer.”
Rane stirred. “Jisuel will hunt us down as soon as he realizes we’ve taken something from him, no matter who we work for. And he knows this forest better than we do.” He noticed wisps of white coming from the chimney, smelled the sweet wood smoke. Somewhere behind them a bird sang a high, trilling song. “We’ll have to run. For our lives.”
“Unless he already knows what we’re planning to do.”
Rane nodded. “Yes, I don’t discount this is a trap.”
She straightened, pulled away from him. “But we’re going in there anyway.”
He met her eyes, and saw the deep worry etched in them.
“Eric hasn’t given us a choice.”
“Tell me…” She looked away, down to her feet. Lifted her gaze again. “Why did you come to my room the night before the tournament? I would have helped you without…what we did together.”
His heart stuttered. Something in the way she said it, taking off the armor of her pride, told him she thought they were going to die.
Rane felt the warmth of a sunbeam on his shoulders and neck, heard another bird sing an answer to the first, and faced that possibility himself.
“I had no right.” He shrugged helplessly. “I should have walked away, should never have climbed up to your room. When you offered me everything, I meant to say no, to kiss you, and hold you—then leave.” He strangled out a laugh. “You caught me in my own game and I forgot why I was even there.”
She lowered her eyes, clasped her hands in front of her, her gaze on her twined fingers. “I don’t regret it. It gave me strength, sitting up there on that glass mountain, knowing I had defied them all.” She smiled, a tight movement that squeezed something in his chest. “You never promised me anything. I thought I’d never see you again. But I won’t pretend I wasn’t angry and…hurt when I realized it was all part of a plan for you.”
There was nothing he could say to that that would change things, because he had been working a plan. Had fully intended to walk away with the golden apple and leave her behind, rescuing Soren the only thing on his mind.
Only, it hadn’t been. And if Eric hadn’t enchanted him, would he have left her?
She watched him, wary, and then turned back to the cottage. He looked at her profile, at her dark hair pulled back at her nape, at the fine wings of her brows over her light gray eyes. And sudden as the flash of a bird breaking cover, he understood.
If Soren’s life hadn’t been in the balance—if he hadn’t needed the golden apple—he would have charged the mountain for her anyway.
* * *
“Come in, come in.” Jisuel stepped back, waved them inside.
Kayla could not help the little skip of her feet as she hesitated, then forced herself forward.
She felt the solid bulk of Rane behind her, the heat of his body reassuring in the cool, dim interior.
She blinked, her eyes struggling to see anything in the room after the bright light in the clearing outside Jisuel’s door.
She closed her eyes to speed the process and Rane’s body, pressed against her side, stiffened.
“You are impressed, De’Villier?” Jisuel sounded amused, and Kayla opened her eyes. And gaped.
“Very impressed.” There was an edge to Rane’s voice, almost pain, and Kayla looked up at him.
His mouth was a thin line, his jaw clenched, and she realized he was in pain.
The room they stood in was a quaint kitchen and sitting room, but every available wall space was covered in shelves, and piled onto every one, piled high, were the strange wonders of wild magic. Gems, swords, cups, stones, things she had never seen before, and the most ordinary household objects.
Rane lifted a hand to his brow, as if to shield his eyes from the sun, and she saw a line of perspiration on his upper lip. He swayed, his face chalky.
“Come outside.” She took his arm, led him back to the door.
Jisuel stood in their way.
Rane staggered and she tightened her grip.
“Let me pass. He’s too sensitive to these things. There are too many of them in here.” She locked gazes with their host, and was overcome again by the strange, hunted feeling she’d had when looking at him in the village.
“Tell me something, first.”
Rane tried to shake himself out of his dizziness, and almost pulled her over with him.
“Out of the way!”
Jisuel’s eyebrows rose at the sharpness of her tone. “Who are you?”
“Can you not wait until Rane is outside for that?”
She pushed forward, straight at Jisuel, dragging Rane with her, and felt an unpleasant sensation, a prickle against her face, pushing her back.
She jerked, had to clutch Rane to her as her sudden movement almost toppled him.
“Is this how you treat your guests?” She drew herself up, drew on the mantel of princess of Gaynor.
“Are you guests?” Jisuel watched her, his eyes narrow, and the feeling that it was so very wrong, that Jisuel himself was wrong, stole over her again.
“Who are you?” She breathed the words out, and Jisuel’s eyes widened. “You are not what you appear.”
“Kayla.” Rane ground out her name through clenched teeth. “I am going to—”
Jisuel pulled the door open, and Kayla dragged Rane out. He staggered forward, gasping for breath.
Kayla rested a hand on his bowed back, looked at Jisuel over the top of his head.
He was leaning against the door frame, loose and relaxed.
“I am Kayla of Gaynor.”
Jisuel laughed. “A princess? No, you’re not.”
Kayla cocked her head, and looked at him, long and hard.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Hummed. “Perhaps you are, then. But you are something else, too. That’s why I invited you both here.”
Kayla lifted a brow
.
“Interesting. I’m starting to believe you.” Jisuel stepped forward, and Kayla’s hand clutched the fabric of Rane’s shirt in an involuntary spasm.
“Relax. We have a code of honor in these things.”
“We?”
Rane had begun to straighten, his color coming back, and Kayla let her hand slide off him as he rose.
“Witches.” Jisuel lifted his arms, and the air around him shivered. Kayla blinked, and in the next instant, standing where Jisuel had been, was a hag.
Chapter Seventeen
As Rane straightened, his knife came up. Relief surged through Kayla that he’d recovered so quickly. That he was armed.
The little old lady stood in her doorway as if passing the time of day.“Put that blade away, De’Villier.” She sounded like a scolding grandmother.
“Who are you?” Kayla could not take her eyes off the witch. She was tiny, wrinkled, thin. And she exuded power.
“I don’t give my name to anyone who asks. But I will give it to another witch. My name is Ylana.”
She felt Rane flinch. They’d known it. But standing outside the witch’s house, knowing Rane could not enter it—knowing they had to—was a bitter feeling.
“And the Jisuel disguise?” Rane spoke slowly.
“How far do you think I’d have gotten buying magic items like this, eh?” Ylana gestured the length of her body with a hand. “Would you have given me the time of day, De’Villier?”
She snorted, gave him a look that spoke of barely-held contempt. “There would have been more gossip, too. The sorcerers would have heard about an old witch buying wild magic treasures and I didn’t want that.”
“How do you know I’m a witch?” Kayla stepped forward, ashamed at the pleading in her voice.
Ylana frowned, her face serious. “I do not find that amusing. You know you gave yourself away.”
“How? How did I do that?”
Ylana watched her with narrow eyes. “I knew when you threatened me and wild magic gathered at your fingertips.” She took a step forward herself. “How do you use wild magic?”
“I don’t use it.” Kayla stumbled back, sensed Rane right behind her. He had not put away the knife.
“It gathered at your hands. I saw it. I have never known wild magic to do anyone’s bidding. How do you command it?”
Kayla shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think I do command it. It has obliged me, a time or two, I’ll admit, but I had no say in that.”
“Obliged you? Tell me.” Ylana’s voice was sharp.
“It saved my life twice. Both times from creatures of its own making.” She slid a look at Rane, unsure of whether to speak of the window into Eric’s dungeon. That would bring them too close to their reason for being here, and she didn’t think it a good idea.
Rane gave a tiny shake of his head.
“And yes, when I told you to apologize to Rane, I did feel something. Some power, but I did not call it to me. It just appeared.”
Ylana gave a short laugh. “Wild magic doesn’t ‘just appear’. And I have never known it to oblige anything or anyone. I’ve lived three hundred years in this forest, and wild magic has always been here.”
“Always?” Rane’s question was shocked.
“Ah. Not like it is now. Turn a corner and you bump into it, these days. But it isn’t a new thing. Where there are powerful spells, there is always wild magic. The old sorcerers had a respect for magic this new breed has forgotten. They did not call too much sky magic down at once unless there was a reason, and that reason was never personal power.”
“And the witches, what is their part in this?” Kayla felt a fool for asking, but she knew nothing of witches. Almost too little, she realized now. As if it had been kept from her.
Ylana stared at her. Opened her mouth and closed it again. Turned to the house, and stood just within the doorway. “I am not sure what you are about, Kayla of Gaynor. Either you mock me or there is a mystery here I cannot see. When you are ready to tell me which it is, you are welcome in my home.”
She slammed the door in their faces.
* * *
“I have to go in.” Kayla looked at the door, then back at Rane.
A bird called, just above them, and Rane twisted his head to look up at it. It stared back, and he had the uncomfortable sense of being watched.
“Come.” He drew her down the path, and even the immediate press of the enchantment at their retreat was nothing to the thought of her going into the cottage where he could not protect her.
They stopped just out of sight of Ylana’s house. He didn’t release his hold on her arm, and she did not pull it away. He drew her closer and they stood, touching, the lazy light of afternoon warming them. Kayla’s breath was warm on his skin through the cotton of his shirt, and he tightened his hold.
She lifted her face to his. “Eric might have been lying about my being a witch, but Ylana isn’t. If things were different, she might help me understand what I am. About what it means to be a witch.”
“If things were different.” He spoke softly, his lips almost touching her ear. He heard the trace of bitterness in his words, and closed his eyes.
He’d never had time for bitterness, before. He’d tried to change things instead. Soren was the one who’d held a grudge. His brother accepted their father was gone and sought retribution. Rane had never given up hope—he’d pursued knowledge, the key to reversing what had been done.
He didn’t know which of them was better off.
He opened his eyes again, pressed a kiss against Kayla’s hair. A flash of movement caught his eye. A squirrel was watching them from a branch. It had the same intelligent, focused stare as the robin.
Kayla stirred in his arms. “What—”
He placed a finger on her lips. Nothing they said was safe.
Kayla turned her head and stiffened at the sight of the squirrel. There was a strange crackle in the air. She stepped away from him and faced it.
Rane blinked. The air danced with flickers of purple and green.
“Go.” Kayla pointed at the squirrel and it ran, leaping fluid as water through the trees, until it stopped, just in view.
“How do you do that?”
She turned, and he saw the strain on her face. “I don’t like being spied on. It was the same when I forced Jisuel to apologize. I think when I’m angry, I can use wild magic.”
“I can’t go in to the cottage with you and be of any use.” Rane watched the squirrel coming back, cautiously moving from tree to tree. “There is too much magic in there, it pulls me in a thousand directions at once.”
“I’ll do everything I can to find the gem. Eric described what it looked like well enough.” Kayla looked over her shoulder and lifted her hands. The squirrel stopped short.
Rane caught her chin. “I’ll be as close as I can be. Even if you can’t see me.” He touched his lips to hers, drew back.
She nodded, set her shoulders and spun in the direction of the cottage. Strode towards it.
The squirrel raced her back.
Chapter Eighteen
Kayla stood before the door and looked over her shoulder, met Rane’s gaze for the last time before he stepped back into the trees. She lifted her hand and knocked.
The door swung open, and as it did she felt the light brush of fingers on her nape, felt the warmth of Rane’s invisible body behind hers. A final promise he was just outside. Watching through the windows, through whichever crack he could find.
“Where is De’Villier?” Ylana was suddenly there, half-shadowed in the doorway, and Kayla stiffened.
“Waiting along the path for me. He’s too sensitive to your collection.” Her voice was breathless.
Ylana stepped back and allowed her entrance.
Rane’s hand touched her shoulder and slipped off as she stepped within. Fear rose in her, in tandem with the high-pitched creak of the door shutting.
She was alone.
Rane may be outside, but
she was face to face with a woman who could become a man with the lift of her hands, whose power radiated from her in tangible waves, green and brown.
The gloom darkened as the door swung shut, and Kayla smelled the sweet, dusty scent of dried lavender and rosemary, the dark, nutty flavor of burnt butter.
A candle flickered on a rough wooden table, then settled to a steady light as the door clicked shut.
In the half-light, the shelves glowed with their burden of magic trinkets. Some looked ordinary—pedestrian objects she would not have glanced at twice—and others shone with a beautiful light.
Despair draped chains over her shoulders as she took in the sheer number. How would she find Eric’s gem in this without Ylana realizing she was looking for something specific?
“Why are you here?” Ylana was watching her, bright and sharp as a robin.
Kayla turned from her and looked down at her hands. “I am here because you invited me.”
She had no reason for being in the forest. No possible reason other than the truth. And the truth would doom her. Would doom Rane and his brother, too.
“Don’t play games. Why would Kayla of Gaynor come into the Great Forest with a woodsman?”
Kayla lifted her head. There is was. The derisive thread in Ylana’s voice. That disrespect for Rane.
She felt the shimmer of anger again. “He may be a woodsman, but he is also my betrothed.”
“De’Villier? The future king of Gaynor?” Ylana laughed.
“Why do you think so little of him?”
“I cannot stand his kind. They sell wild magic treasure to the highest bidder. Without a thought to what it could do. Or who they sell it to.”
“You want them to only sell to you?” Kayla felt her anger growing.
“Sorcerers shouldn’t benefit from wild magic by being offered its treasure. They should be forced to think twice about creating it.” The words were hissed, furious.
“Rane is honorable. He doesn’t deserve your contempt.”
“Yes, he does.” Her voice was bitter. “He is hatching a plot. He asks too many questions about wild magic. Finds more treasure than anyone else.”
Golden Apple, The Page 9
