New Blood

by Gail Dayton

  “So, again, what does that mean? What was decided? What’s going to happen?” Amanusa twined her fingers through Jax’s, seeking his touch as always when she was uncertain. Master magician’s status sounded good, but she had a feeling there was a catch.

  “The governors, an’ whoever else wants to go along, are goin’ out to inspect that warding wall we built, an’ if they’re satisfied it’s master-level work—”

  “When,” Elinor said. “When they’re bowled over by it.”

  Harry’s mouth twitched, as if Elinor’s excitement amused him. “When that ‘appens,” he amended, “they’ll set a test.”

  “What kind of test?” Amanusa’s hand tightened on Jax’s. Her whole existence sometimes felt as if it had been nothing but test after test. She was tired of tests.

  “An attack, usually. Magic assault. Can you defend yourself against dark magic? Can you stand on your own? Master magicians got to be able to protect themselves. They got no right to be protected like an apprentice does. An’ yes, Elinor, I got protections around you. Though after today, I ain’t—I’m not so sure you need ‘em. They’ll be plenty impressed with your work on that wall, too.”

  “Will we have warning?” Jax asked.

  “No. But it won’t ‘appen ‘til after they decide about the magic—the wall.”

  “If they abide by the rules.” Elinor sounded bitter. “If I were you, I’d be prepared for anything, at any time.”

  Amanusa looked at the men, to see whether they agreed with Elinor’s assessment. Not that she had to. Frightened, ignorant people seldom followed rules. They acted on their fear, either running away to hide, or attacking. Amanusa had lived that way herself for too many years. Oddly, she wasn’t afraid now.

  Or maybe it wasn’t so odd. After all, she had magic now. And she had Jax.

  “Let them come,” she said. “We can handle anything they throw at us.”

  Harry returned her gaze for a long, considering moment. “I sincerely ‘ope you can.”

  “Well.” Elinor’s cheeks bloomed with a sudden blush and she popped to her feet. All three gentlemen rose with her. “I daresay we have taken up quite enough of your wedding day. But we felt you should know the news straightaway.”

  Grey paused as they left and marked a sigil on the back of the door. “So that only those who wish you well may pass,” he said with a smile and a bow.

  Amanusa didn’t tell him Jax had already warded the rooms with a spell that did the same. She merely smiled and waved her thanks as they departed, leaving her alone with her husband.

  Amanusa and Jax had been alone together for the whole of their journey to Paris. But they hadn’t been married then.

  She’d been alone with Jax today, after the magic at the dead zone, but she’d been so exhausted, she was scarcely aware of his presence, save as comforting, efficient hands undressing her and tucking her into bed. This was different.

  Jax put a glass of water in her hand. “Drink it.”

  Amanusa obeyed.

  “I’m ordering supper,” he said, ringing for a servant. “You slept through tea, and now you’ve had some sleep, you need to eat.”

  She nodded carefully. Her headache had grown steadily since she woke until now each hammer blow threatened to crack her skull. She stretched a hand toward him and when he took it, the headache faded slightly.

  “Poor lamb.” He slid onto the settee beside her and kissed her temple. That helped even more. “Dragging all that great lot of magic halfway around the city. It’s more work than you should be attempting so soon. You’ve only been studying sorcery since—was it only May when I found you?”

  “In-depth study.” She sighed, leaning into him. “But that’s not what’s worrying you, is it?”

  A quiet rap came at the door. Jax kissed her temple again before going to answer. He spoke quietly to the servant there, then returned.

  He sat at the far end of the settee, which made Amanusa frown. Why didn’t he want to touch her? Her head still hurt. She turned on the settee, putting her feet up on the cushion and sliding them forward until her toes, still covered by the voluminous raw silk dressing gown, touched his leg. “What’s worrying you?” She asked it point blank this time.

  “What makes you think anything is worrying me?” Jax gave her a smile without meeting her eyes. His hand drifted down to settle atop her silk-covered toes.

  Amanusa scowled at him. “It’s all over you. Worry. I can hear it in every word you say. I see it in your face. I can smell it, taste it—and if you weren’t sitting way over there, I’m sure I could touch it, too. You’re worried. Why?”

  “After last night? After the news you just heard, you have to wonder?” Jax shot her a glance before denying her his eyes again.

  His hand wrapped all the way around her ankle, over the silk, away from her skin. Her head was pounding again. She wanted his touch. But not if he didn’t want to touch her.

  “Jax.” She poked him with her toes. “I know you’re worried. Talk to me. I am the sorceress, after all.”

  “And I’m the husband.” He shot her another quick look, his jaw going hard and stubborn. “You put me in this position. You gave me the right to worry.”

  “But not alone, Jax. Share your worry with me. A wife is supposed to be a helpmeet, not a burden.” She reached past her upthrust knees to touch him. “We’re still partners. Aren’t we?”

  Finally, at last, he met her gaze, looked into her eyes. “If you haven’t figured it out yet on your own, I suppose I will have to tell you. You veiled how much of your blood you put into that bucket, but still, it came perilously close to revealing sorcery guild secrets, the truth about the source of a sorceress’s power, in her own blood. More than that—” Jax gripped both her ankles as he turned his body toward her, intensity in every line. “If that warding works as well as I think it will, the conclave will be after you to work the same magic around every dead zone in Europe. This one was only a few blocks around, and look how tired it left you.

  “How big was the one we passed through in Germany? And it was growing. I’m told that the bigger they are, the faster they grow. I will not let you drain yourself dry for them.”

  Oh my. His fervent words warmed Amanusa all the way through. “I don’t want that either.” Not now that… She grabbed for ways to prevent it. “I need apprentices. I need a whole classroom full of them.”

  Jax shook his head, a crooked smile twisting his full, kissable lips. “It’s not easy to find a classroom full of young ladies willing to spill their own blood for humanity’s sake.”

  “Do they have to be young?” Amanusa shrugged. “Or ladies? We look for those like me. The ones who have nothing left to lose. And the ones who understand the difference between justice and revenge.”

  She cocked her head as she looked ‘at him then, sorting through all the worries she saw written across him. “But that isn’t all of it. It’s a great deal of it, but—”

  “How do you know?” he burst out. “How can you look at me and just know that I am worried? How can you tell this worry from that worry, when a week ago you could not?”

  “I could sense—”

  “Physical. You could sense the physical from me, when I was injured, when I touched the machine, when I fell ill in the vacuum—but you’ve never been able to sense my emotions.” He looked uneasy.

  As well he ought. She’d never meant to trespass so far into his heart and mind. “I’m sorry. I won’t—”

  “Amanusa, I don’t mind you being able to sense how I’m feeling. It’s the why of it that worries me. You tasted my blood. You have my blood flowing through your veins. In the more than one hundred years that I served her, Yvaine never took my blood. Ever.”

  “But—why not?” Amanusa took a moment to inventory all her parts. “I feel perfectly fine. A little tired—or maybe more than a little—but that’s due to this afternoon’s spell-crafting, I’m sure. Other than that, I feel no different than I did yesterday morning. What dif
ference could taking your blood possibly make?”

  “I don’t know.” The strain in Jax’s voice came through clearly. “And that’s what worries me. Ask Yvaine.”

  “Jax, no.”

  “Ask her. We’re inside a fully warded set of rooms. No harm can come to you, even if I fall unconscious.”

  “We were married today. Maybe I don’t want you unconscious.” Amanusa pulled her feet from Jax’s grip and dropped them to the carpet. “I don’t understand why you’re raising such a fuss about this. It’s nothing. Less than nothing.”

  “You don’t know that.” Jax captured one of her hands. “We don’t know anything about it, except that Yvaine was so careful not to let it happen. Which in itself indicates that it’s dangerous. Amanusa, I am serious about this. If you do not ask Yvaine, I will.”

  “You can’t. I’ve bound her mouth shut.”

  “She’s inside me. I think I can.”

  “Jax—” Amanusa caught his other hand, held tight to both of them, pleading with him.

  “Amanusa,” he said sternly. “I don’t want to quarrel with you, but about this, I must insist. If I were only your servant still, perhaps I would not. But you married me. And as your husband, it is my duty to look after you. To protect you, even from yourself. We must know.”

  “Who will protect you from yourself?” she cried, unable to stop herself. Why did she feel so frantic? It wasn’t Jax’s worry influencing her. His worry was about her. This sense of panic was all about Jax.

  “You will, of course.” His smile was gentle. He brushed her tumbled hair back from her face. “But think, Amanusa. Eventually, I’ll need to rid myself of the rest of the magic Yvaine stuffed into my head. And the unconsciousness hasn’t lasted nearly so long, these last few times. This is as good an opportunity as any. Better than most, because we do very much need to know what Yvaine can tell us about this.”

  Amanusa bit her lip, clinging to his hands, needing that skin-to-skin reassurance as she thought. She puffed out a disgruntled breath. “All right. We’ll ask her. But if you’re unconscious all night, I will… I will beat you. With a stick.”

  “I will lay it in your hands myself.” He did his old servant bow, pressing his forehead to her hands. But he was smiling when he did it.

  She squeezed her hands tight around his with an exasperated growl. “You know I could never actually beat you. But I’d want to. Badly.”

  He looked up at her from his bow, not bothering even to attempt to suppress his grin, and winked. “I know. Now ask.”

  Amanusa took a deep breath and blew it out again, sorting her disordered emotions and calming them. Jax would be all right. And they did need to get rid of the rest of Yvaine’s blood. She just wished it didn’t have to be now.

  “Yvaine of Braedun.” She reached for her magic inside Jax, taking hold after a brief hesitation. “Tell me about tasting the blood of my servant. What happens when the sorceress tastes the servant’s blood?”

  The blue faded from Jax’s eyes, brown blooming in them. Amanusa shuddered. She would never get used to that. She wanted the woman out.

  “The sorceress rides through the veins of others,” Yvaine said with Jax’s voice. “The sorceress does not take into herself the blood of others. Especially do not, under any circumstances taste the blood of your servant. It will make you weak and unable to use your servant as needful. Keep your blood pure and untainted.”

  “What about—?” Amanusa didn’t get her question out before Jax’s eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled backward on the settee.

  “Is that it?” she demanded. “Yvaine! Is that all you have to say?”

  She shook Jax’s hands, patted his cheek. His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t rouse.

  “Yvaine, tell me what it does. Tell why it’s important?” If Amanusa could reach inside Jax and snatch hold of Yvaine, she would shake her until her eyes rattled in their sockets, until she coughed up the information Amanusa wanted so badly. But Yvaine was dead, and Jax did not deserve the abuse.

  A knock sounded at the door. Supper already? But this was an excellent hotel and things happened quickly. Amanusa ran for the coins in her purse, trying to remember how much she’d seen Jax give the servant the last time. She opened the door and waited for the footman to roll the cart in. No one who meant harm could pass the door’s layered warding.

  The footman set the cart near the table by the window and began to lay the dishes out, casting curious glances at Amanusa’s unconscious husband. Oh Lord, Jax’s nose was bleeding. Another drop of Yvaine’s blood. Amanusa thrust the whole handful of coins at the servant and hurried him out the door.

  She found a slip of the rice paper, blotted up the old, dark blood, and held it to the gaslight, until the flame burnt her fingers and the magic whispered off to join Yvaine in her distant grave. Jax looked horribly uncomfortable on the settee, so she adjusted the angle of his neck, stuffing a pillow under his head, and rearranged his limbs so that he at least looked better. She couldn’t help stroking a hand down his dear, kind face. He was a handsome man, but it was his kindness that made him so attractive to her.

  She couldn’t stand and stare at Jax until he woke. Well, actually, she could, but she wouldn’t. Why should she? He was her husband, but that didn’t mean she was in love with him, or anything of the sort. They were rather literally attached to each other. But she could give him the room he requested.

  The delicious aromas rising from the table drew her. Amanusa peeped under the covers. Jax had ordered a hearty dinner. Salmon patties, sliced beef, and crusty bread to soak up the juices—enough food to fill two shelves on the cart. Who did he think would be eating all of this? Her stomach rumbled ominously.

  “Have you eaten?” The words rode out of Jax on a groan and Amanusa rushed to help him sit up.

  “No, I haven’t. The footman just brought it not two minutes ago.”

  “Don’t wait on me.” He brought a hand to his forehead, rubbing it. “You need to eat. Magic drains your energy. Food and rest put it back.”

  “Food and rest put it back.” Amanusa repeated the words in unison with him. “Yes, I know. But I’d rather eat with you. Come sit at the table. Let me serve you this time.”

  Jax let her help him stand and leaned on her as they walked the short distance to the table. “How long—?”

  “Not long at all. Maybe five minutes.” Amanusa scowled. “Probably because Yvaine didn’t tell me anything.”

  “Nothing at all?” Jax stopped and stared at her in shock.

  “Nothing useful. Nothing I needed to know.” She shrugged. “She just said, ‘The sorceress rides the blood of others, she does not allow others’ blood into her.’ “ Amanusa made her voice sound pompous and eerie both at once, quoting the old harridan. “But she didn’t say why, and she didn’t say what would happen if the sorceress did taste someone else’s blood.”

  Amanusa decided in that moment to keep the part about her servant’s blood making her “weak and unable to use her servant,” to herself. She didn’t feel weak in the least, and she had no intention of using Jax. Not the way Yvaine had used him.

  “Perhaps she feared me locating the information and using it against you,” Jax mused.

  “You never would.” Amanusa pulled out her chair and Jax seated her before going around to his own chair. He never neglected the little courtesies, no matter how many times she told him they weren’t necessary. They made her feel… cared for.

  “Against you? No, never.” His smile warmed her. “But against someone like Yvaine? Probably.”

  “What was she like, Yvaine? You’ve never really told me.”

  “I shouldn’t tell you now. Do you honestly want her present on our wedding night?” Jax served the soup, despite Amanusa’s intention to serve him. He was sneaky like that.

  “She’s already here. At your insistence. I think we should drag her into the open so we can exorcise her. Yvaine the woman, not the magic she left in your head.”

&
nbsp; Jax sighed. “She’s been in her grave two hundred years. We should leave her there.”

  Amanusa reached across the table to clasp his hand briefly before letting him eat his soup. “But she’s not in her grave, Jax. She still haunts you. How did you meet her? Can you remember?”

  Chapter 23

  More than I’d like. I met Yvaine in York. Leaford—the earldom—is in the North of England, and Henry—Henry VIII—was king then. Henry had just beheaded Anne and George Boleyn, and married poor Jane Seymour that summer. A year or two before that, he’d shut down all the little monasteries, which upset no end of folk, and there was a big uprising in York that fall. Pilgrimage of Grace, they called it. Being the arrogant earl I was then, I went along with the Duke of Norfolk when he led the king’s armies out to deal with the rebel riffraff.

  “In the end, there wasn’t a battle—not that year. Norfolk negotiated a truce and everyone went home. But I wasn’t ready to leave. I’d come for some fun, and by God, I was going to have it. So a gang of us—some who’d already succeeded to our titles and some who hadn’t any title to succeed to, unless several uncles, brothers, and cousins died—rode from Doncaster, where the negotiations took place, to York. To see the sights. Or to drink and carouse and… whatnot.”

  Amanusa set the soup plates on the cart and served the fish course. “And did you see the sights?”

  A sardonic chuckle escaped him. “Mostly, we saw ‘whatnot.’ Alehouses and brothels. But I also visited all the magicians in York. I was thirty-four then. I’d married, produced an heir and a spare—poor Margaret, having to put up with me for a husband—” His voice trailed off as he vanished into his memories. Not pleasant ones, from the look on his face.

  “I think you are a very fine husband,” Amanusa announced.

  Jax gave her a skeptical look. “Your opinion of a marriage lasting an entire, endless day. Wait a few years and I’ll ask again.” He looked at his salmon patty and drizzled hollandaise sauce over it. “I’m not the same man I was then. Margaret suffered with the original version of me, full of self-importance and ignorant cruelty.”