Burned by Magic: a New Adult Fantasy Novel (The Baine Chronicles Book 1)

by Walt, Jasmine

  The very thought made me lose my appetite.

  I should refuse these clothes, I thought, staring down at the underwear in my hands with disgust. Putting them on would be like accepting a gift, and the last thing I wanted was to be beholden to the Chief Mage in any way.

  Never be too proud to take advantage of the resources around you. Roanas’s voice echoed in my ears. A silver rope might burn, but you can still use it to climb out of a pit.

  Tears stung the corners of my eyes, and I dressed hurriedly. If I allowed myself to dwell on my thoughts too long, I would lapse into the grief hovering like a dark cloud above my head, just waiting for the right opportunity to burst. I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of a breakdown, so I pushed down the emotion and did my best not to focus on it.

  I found a door that led from the East Wing onto the grounds, but as soon as I tried to step across the threshold an invisible barrier pushed me back. I grit my teeth as I tried again, and then a third time, to no success. Wards. I grimaced, noting the runes carved into the molding. It was unlikely they’d been keyed specifically to me, but clearly they wouldn’t let anyone who wasn’t cleared exit the building, and I was definitely on the Not Authorized to Leave list.

  Determined, I searched the palace for other exits, but every time I tried to pass through a door or window the same invisible barrier pushed me back. This explained why none of the mages or servants that passed me in the halls seemed to care what I did or where I went – there was no chance of me escaping unless the Chief Mage decided to change the wards. An hour later, I was tired, pissed and hungry, so I decided to wander down to the kitchen and find some food.

  Despite the lack of a map, it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen – all I had to do was follow the scent of baking goods down a set of stairs that led from the foyer to a raised basement.

  I moved down a stone corridor and took a right, then smiled as I found myself standing in a large, commercial-style kitchen. The space was pretty open, with all of the wood and coal-powered appliances flush against the far wall, and several large counters placed near the front where the kitchen staff chopped, kneaded and mixed various ingredients. The smell of roasting chicken and baking bread filled my nostrils, and I closed my eyes, inhaling greedily.

  When I opened them, a woman in a chef’s hat and coat stood in front of me with a scowl, a wooden spoon propped on her wide hip. “Can I help you?”

  “Umm, yeah.” My stomach growled, and I gave her my best puppy dog smile. Which, in retrospect, might not have actually worked since I’m a feline. “I haven’t eaten all day and I’m looking for some food. Do you have anything to spare?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down. “You’re that hybrid, aren’t you? The one Lord Iannis has under observation?”

  I grimaced inwardly, both at her use of the word hybrid and the fact that she’d called the Chief Mage Lord. By Magorah, did that man really need a reason for his head to get more inflated? But then again, it was a proper title for him.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I said brightly. If I was going to own it, I might as well wear it proudly.

  “Fine. Wait here.”

  I frowned as the woman disappeared into the pantry, eyeing the freshly baked bread and roasted chicken sitting on the countertop not ten feet from my elbow. Why was she going to the pantry when there was perfectly good food here?

  The answer became obvious when she bustled back out into the kitchen again, a hunk of brown bread in one hand and a wedge of cheese in the other. “Here,” she said, thrusting them both at me as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of them.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, testing the bread with a squeeze of my fingers. It was rock hard, and the cheese was liberally speckled with mold. “Didn’t realize I had the words ‘garbage can’ tattooed on my forehead.”

  The woman completely ignored me, and I sighed, slinking out of the kitchen with my proverbial tail tucked between my legs. It seemed as though the kitchen staff and servants had all been given the ‘hate on sight’ order when told about my presence, and I wondered whether the Chief Mage himself was to blame for that, or one of his lackeys. Magorah knew I’d pissed off practically everyone in the audience chamber, so it could have been any one of them.

  I really have to work on my diplomacy skills.

  I sat on the floor in the hall with my back against the wall and nibbled on my five-star fare, my ears alert as I listened to the kitchen staff gossip, hoping to catch any clues about the shifter murders. But all they talked about were their families and friends, tomorrow’s menu – which nearly made me cry because it sounded delicious and would probably be off limits to me – and which of the servants were boinking each other. The latter could have been interesting if I were able to use it as blackmail, but I seriously doubted the Chief Mage could be bothered with that kind of thing.

  He’s bothering with you, isn’t he? My heart stuttered a little as I remembered the way he’d looked at me, as if he could actually see beyond my tough shell and into the real me. Sure, the idea scared the shit out of me, but the idea of someone actually knowing my secrets and accepting me instead of writing me off as a failure or a problem was highly appealing.

  Then I looked down at what was left of my rock-bread and snorted. The Chief Mage didn’t give a flying fuck about me beyond the puzzle that I presented to him. Clearly my pre-heat hormones were starting to filter in and were addling my brain. I still had several months before I actually went into heat, but my body usually ramped itself up for the occasion, building up so that by the time it came I would be a horny, ravenous monster.

  It was one of the only things I hated about being a shifter. The fact that it only happened twice a year was no consolation.

  I went back into the kitchen and nagged the cook for some more bread and cheese, and then took my crappy meal back upstairs so I could roam the halls. Eventually I found a deserted storage area full of broken furniture and tools. It didn’t take me long to clear a space. I sat down on the floor and closed my eyes, pulling in slow, deep breaths through my nostrils and exhaling them gently through my mouth. It took longer than usual, but the meditative exercise had the desired effect – my heart rate slowed, my nerves stopped zinging, and the thoughts clamoring in my head gradually faded away, leaving me with a sense of peace.

  It was time to train.

  I put myself through a set of simple hand-to-hand forms, starting with the basic ones and moving on to lengthier, more complex movements. Doing the forms was as instinctive as breathing – I’d been practicing Kan-Zao, an ancient martial art developed in Garai, ever since Roanas had taken me in. He’d learned the art himself from a Garaian adept while living abroad, and had been a master in his own right.

  Finished with the forms, I looked around the storage room for something I could use for weapons practice. My crescent knives or chakrams would have been ideal, but I would settle for any implement that could be fashioned into a staff or blade. If I did find a way to break out, I would likely have to go up against some of the guards, and I needed to be prepared for that.

  I was just contemplating the idea of breaking off the legs of an old chair and fashioning them into stakes I could hide in my boots when I heard movement at the door.

  “What are you doing in here?” Elgarion asked, stepping into the room. His dark eyes narrowed as he surveyed the space, no doubt noticing that I’d moved things around.

  I folded my arms and arched a brow. “I thought I was allowed to go wherever I wanted, so long as the door wasn’t locked?”

  Elgarion pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’s true, but it seems like you’re looking for something.”

  I blinked. I was still holding the chair in my hands… upside down. I righted it hastily and set it back down on the dusty stone floor. “I was just taking a break from training.”

  “You mean self-defense?” A smug look crossed his face as his eyes scanned my form, lingering on the sheen of sweat that marked my forehead and ex
posed arms. “I wouldn’t waste your time on that, hybrid. You’re not going to live much longer, and any mage could easily best you regardless of your physical skills.”

  “Are you interested in my ‘physical skills’?” I purred, closing the distance between us. Elgarion took a step back as I fluttered my eyelashes at him, wanting to wipe the smug look off his face for once. “Is that why you’re following me around?”

  “W-what? No!” His pale skin flushed, and I heard his pulse speed up. “I’m just doing my job! I would never have such lascivious thoughts, especially about a hybrid like you.”

  I ignored that jab as I leaned in closer to him. It helped that I knew I was getting to him, but I was also getting used to the insult.

  “I’m sure you feel better telling yourself that,” I said, giving him a slow wink. “But you know what I think?”

  “What?” He sounded slightly out of breath.

  I straightened, raking his body with a scathing look. “I think you’re just an untried boy who hides behind his magic and his textbooks and doesn’t know anything about the real world,” I sneered. “If you think magic can protect you from everything, kid, then go ahead and try to beat me. I’ve had to take down a mage or two in my line of work, and I guarantee you’d be child’s play compared to a fully-trained mage.”

  His face turned beet red, and I waited with baited breath to see what he would do next. It was true that I’d brought in a few mages, but they had been low-level ones, and I’d been armed with protective amulets and weapons. Not to mention that I didn’t really know how well-trained Elgarion was – since he was born into a mage family he would have been using magic his entire life, unlike me. Right now I had no amulets or weapons, only my natural-born talents, and I was interested in seeing whether or not my magic would work to defend me within the palace walls.

  Of course, my magic would only activate if he actually tried to kill me. So maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea.

  In the end, he merely bared his teeth at me in an impressive mimicry of my own sneer. “I have better things to do than deal with a lowly hybrid like you,” he said haughtily. I stifled a snicker as he turned on his heel and walked off with his nose in the air. These mages all walked around with sticks up their asses, and all it took was a little poke for them to go rigid.

  With a shake of my head, I closed the door behind me, and continued my search for a weapon.

  Six hours later, I wearily trudged back down to the kitchens in search of food. I’d trained until I’d exhausted myself, then dragged my butt back to my tower room to try and sleep, but between the crushing sense of loss that filled me whenever I was left alone with my thoughts and the hunger pangs that gnawed at my stomach, getting shut-eye was impossible. So I waited until I was sure that dinner had been served and cleaned up, then crept back downstairs so I could sneak some food from the larder that wasn’t rock bread and fuzzy cheese.

  As I expected, the kitchen was deserted, not even a mouse hanging around to observe my theft. There was no food sitting on the countertops, so I broke into the pantry in search of something palatable. It didn’t take me long to strike gold – a loaf of relatively fresh bread on one of the shelves, and a piece of smoked salmon wrapped in butcher’s paper.

  “Who knew fish and bread could make someone so happy,” I muttered as I alternated between stuffing mouthfuls of food into my mouth and into a paper bag I’d found. I could have stayed there all night scarfing down food, but even my damaged sense of self-preservation told me it would be unwise to linger.

  I crammed as much food into the bag as it could possibly hold, and walked out of the pantry with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Sure, this wasn’t a five-star meal, but it was better than stale bread and cheese, and I was looking forward to hightailing it back to my room so I could enjoy it.

  Unfortunately, someone was waiting for me in the kitchen.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” the guard leaning against one of the countertops asked. He was the human one who’d escorted me to the audience chamber earlier along with the others, and from his cocky stance and the gleam in his eye, it was clear he was looking for some payback.

  “Getting some food.” I pulled the loaf of bread out of the bag so he could see it. “A little bread, a little meat. Why, you want some?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he drawled, drawing his short sword from its sheath. “Seems like you’re stealing to me. I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson for that.”

  He charged me, raising the sword up with both hands as he moved in with a slashing strike, obviously thinking he had the upper hand since I was unarmed. But I’d prepared for this. I pulled the brass drawer handles I’d pilfered from one of the broken dressers from my jacket pocket and slipped them around my knuckles as I dodged the blow. He whirled around, tracking my motion, his shoes scuffing loudly against the stone floor, and attempted another slashing strike.

  This time, instead of moving away I moved in, bringing up my knuckles so I could catch the blow with my drawer handles, just as I would have done with my crescent knives. Unfortunately the handles didn’t cover my hands as well as the knives did, and I winced inwardly as the blade grazed my fingers, sharp pain slicing into my flesh.

  “What the fu–” he began, his eyes wide with confusion, and I wasted no time, pulling one of my makeshift stakes out and stabbing him in the joint where his arm connected to his torso. He fell back screaming as he crashed into one of the counters, his hand flying to the bloody stake embedded in his flesh, and I smirked. Even if he pulled that thing out right now – which wasn’t a good idea – he wouldn’t be able to use his sword arm again to fight me.

  “What’s going on down there?” a male voice shouted, and I winced. The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs outside had me looking around frantically for an escape route, but there wasn’t one, and before I knew it three more guards had filed into the kitchen, their swords drawn.

  “So much for showing mercy,” I muttered, glaring at the now-whimpering guard slumped against the counter. If I’d killed him he wouldn’t have screamed, and I wouldn’t be in this mess right now. Served me right.

  “You!” the guard in the lead shouted, jabbing the point of his sword at me. “You tried to kill Harry!”

  “Are you kidding?” I threw my hands up in the air, fully prepared to argue for my life, but the guards simply rushed me, in no mood to talk. I flung my second stake in their direction to distract them and leapt over the counter where Whiny – or was it Harry? – was still sobbing his delicate little heart out, making a beeline for the exit.

  The sound of metal sang through the air, and the tip of a short sword plunged into my upper back. Blood poured from my searing shoulder, and I cried out as one of the guards slammed me into the wall, a dark-haired guy with cold eyes and cruel lips.

  “Well, well, well,” the assassin-guard mocked, his cruel lips curving into an even crueler smile as he pressed his body against mine. “Cat got your tongue?”

  I bared my teeth at him, which was less intimidating than it sounds because I didn’t even have enough energy to elongate my fangs. I was tapped out in every way possible, and the guard knew it as he pressed his hard chest against mine, wrapping his hand around the blade of his sword. The scent of his coppery blood mingled with mine as the blade cut into his hand, and I swallowed at the manic gleam in his eye. This guy was nuts, and should never have been hired by Privacy Guard, let alone the Chief Mage. I was almost certain that the Chief Mage himself would never have allowed this guy on his payroll if he knew the guy carried around this kind of bloodlust.

  “I don’t see why the other guards are so afraid of you,” he sneered, his dark eyes boring into my own. “You’re nothing but a pussy, after all.”

  I slammed my knee into his crotch, then smashed my foot into his face when he doubled over and sent him skidding across the stone floor. Battle-fever rushing through my veins, I grabbed the blade and yanked it out o
f my shoulder, then made another dash for the door. Somehow I cleared the entrance, but I didn’t make it more than two feet into the hallway before the remaining two guards tackled me to the ground. I grunted as my cheek smashed into the stone floor, and several ribs cracked as the weight of both men slammed into me.

  “You’re going to pay for that, bitch!” One of the men rolled me over and straddled me – I wasn’t sure which one, because my vision was blurred with tears of pain and fear. I held my arms above my face as he rained blows down upon me, his huge fists smashing into my forearms, my neck, my chest. Tears streamed down my cheeks, from the utter agony of two hundred plus pounds sitting atop broken ribs pounding against my neck and chest so hard I couldn’t breathe. But I clenched my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of so much as a whimper.

  Unbelievable, I thought dimly through the crashing waves of pain. I’m a shifter hybrid who incinerated a rhino yesterday, and I’m going to die in a cold, dark basement at the hands of a human.

  Roanas would be disappointed if he knew I’d failed so quickly.

  That thought galvanized me, and I reared up, pulling strength from a reserve I didn’t know I had to flex my claws. I wrapped my bloody, torn fingers around the guard’s neck, taking satisfaction as I dug into his meaty flesh. His eyes bulged as I squeezed, my claws tearing into his skin, and I held on tight as the other guard rushed forward to kick me.

  If I was going down, at least I was taking this bastard with me.

  “What is the meaning of this!” a deep, familiar voice shouted, and the guard who was about to kick me in the head froze. I froze too, my hands still wrapped around my attacker’s neck, as a tall, bearded man dressed in dark clothing descended the basement stairs, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness of the hall.