Sure, these guys were banging away on tribal drums and having a blast with the forest flute, but she figured this was about as close to a Xaharí mosh pit as it could get.
With an uncertain chuckle, Jessica booked it after the giant hairy guy, avoiding the twirling limbs and hair and beaded ribbons spinning all around her, and hurried to catch up.
On the other side of the bonfire, pockets of Laenmúr had gathered in front of square tents of undyed cloth, the flaps fluttering in the breeze as it moved through the trees and across the clearing. The magicals sat on tree stumps, fallen logs, or the ground. A tiny, wizened-looking magical with huge froglike eyes floated four feet above the dirt, cackling wildly as her most recent spell snatched another hollow drinking gourd away from a bare-chested orc who looked like he could smash her to pieces beneath one swing of his fist. He didn’t.
As Jessica followed the buffalo guy toward these groups of magicals drinking, eating, talking, and laughing, everyone looked up from their conversations to eye her with nothing but welcoming smiles and nods of approval.
Talk about a warm welcome.
No, when she’d stepped through the Gateway with Leandras, she hadn’t expected anything like this on the other side. Xahar’áhsh was a barren wasteland of churning green skies and dead earth and sentient beasts repurposed into killing machines. It was a war zone. It was Leandras’ destroyed home.
Now that they’d made it this far, she realized how much she’d really needed a few smiles and some laughter and a welcome wagon like this one.
It was a breath of fresh air.
Then she caught sight of Leandras and Railen sitting on the ground with another group of magicals and the spread of completely foreign Xaharí dishes piled high on woven baskets in front of them. The fae man looked up at her with one of his infuriatingly amused smirks and dipped his head.
This place was an unexpected oasis in a world of chaos and ruin, sure.
And in that moment, Jessica also realized how much she didn’t trust it.
If she knew anything about her fae partner in crime, when everything around her seemed too good to be true, it probably was.
Chapter 2
“How well do you know the Laen’aroth?”
“What?” Jessica looked quickly up at the buffalo dude, who’d slowed his hoofed march across the clearing and now leaned down toward her. His yellow eyes glinted even with the mass of his hulking body blocking out the multi-colored light of the bonfire.
She seriously wished she knew even a sliver of what this magical was. Because either her valid suspicion was plastered all over her face without her knowing it, or the guy had literally just read her mind.
“Leandras.” The buffalo guy nodded toward the spread of steaming food and the magicals gathered around it. “You two are close, yes?”
“I mean...” Jessica tried to hide her surprise and cleared her throat. “We’ve been through some shit together, I guess.”
That made her sound like a complete idiot, but what was she supposed to say? “Yeah, we’ve tried to kill each other a few times. He drugged me to hide me from a Brúkii. I locked him in a closet so I could steal his magic. He helped me murder an old boss so I could I reclaim my magic, and I broke out of my vestrohím shell to bring him back from the dead. Doesn’t get much closer than that, right?”
The thought made her choke on what she seriously hoped sounded more like a bitter laugh than anything else.
A low rumble that sounded like amusement but could also have been a warning growl issued from the beast-man’s throat. “What is this...shit?”
“Ha. That’s the kind of story we definitely don’t have time for tonight.” Jessica had to swallow quickly before the overwhelmingly alluring scent of cooked meats and strange spices made her drool all over herself.
The hairy magical dipped his head even closer toward her and pierced her gaze with one glowing yellow eye. “You would be surprised how much time the Laenmúr can give you here, Guardian.”
“What, like you guys made some kind of unbreakable time loop in the party forest?” She’d meant it as a joke—one of her seriously bad ones she knew only thinly masked her discomfort, despite her inability to stop making them.
But the unbroken stare and low, rumbling chuckle he offered in return made her rethink the joking part.
“Wait, for real?”
“Jessica,” Railen called when he finally looked up to see her approaching with the buffalo man. “Don’t tell me you’ve had your fill of the festivities already.”
She could only stare at her hairy, horned guide until he gestured toward the feast on the ground and dipped his head. Then Jessica turned to face the mage’s broad smile and shrugged. “Apparently, we have all the time in the world, right?”
Leandras smirked at the buffalo dude. “What have you been telling her, Ardicus?”
The hulking magical stepped back and spread his arms for another low bow, his curved horns dipping dangerously close to Jessica’s shoulder. “Merely a statement of what we can provide.”
“I see.” Leandras held Ardicus’ gaze for a moment longer, then flicked it up toward Jessica again. “And is the Guardian pleased?”
Railen snorted and slapped the back of a hand against the fae man’s chest. “That’s our line. Come, Jessica. If you won’t dance, then sit with us. There’s plenty of food and, yes, more than enough time.”
Jessica forced her obnoxiously watering mouth shut and swallowed as she eyed the spread of weird-ass Xaharí dishes. The growl of her empty stomach felt like an earthquake trembling through her, though fortunately the sound was drowned out by banging drumline and the shrieks, whistles, and laughter of wild celebration. Then she glanced up at Ardicus and frowned.
The buffalo man merely offered her a knowing, closed-lipped smile.
He’d asked how well she knew the Laen’aroth. Kind of a weird question in the middle of a party like this, and she seriously doubted Ardicus had a thing for vestrohím witches. So if it wasn’t an attempt to hit on her by bringing up her relationship with the fae man sitting cross-legged in front of half a dozen baskets of foreign dishes, then it could have been nothing more than friendly conversation. After all, what else did Jessica have in common with any of these original Laenmúr members besides how well she knew Leandras?
Or it could have been a warning.
Leandras cleared his throat. “Unless, of course, you’d rather find yourself a dance partner in this Boldrak.”
So that was what the hoofed, hairy beast-guy was called.
Ardicus snorted. “Two left hooves, fae. I do not dance.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Jessica muttered.
The Boldrak grinned and bowed toward her again. “Enjoy your meal.”
Then he spun smartly in the dirt and clomped off to make himself useful somewhere else. Despite the clearing bustling with celebrating magicals eating, dancing, drinking, or lounging around to watch, Ardicus’ curved horns still rose at least a foot above the sea of bobbing and weaving heads.
“Jessica.” The mix of playful amusement and concern in Leandras’ voice tore her attention away from the wild festivities. When she met his silver gaze again, he gestured toward the baskets in front of him. “I highly recommend the assat-cho. If you’re interested.”
“Right.” She scanned the baskets filled with food any person in their right mind, human or magical, would stay far away from if it had been served on Earth—glowing blue orbs that looked like whole radishes; blood-red leaves steamed and wilting over the edges of the basket; neon-yellow tendrils that looked suspiciously like egg noodles but covered in black polka dots. There was way more here than she could possibly get a taste of in one sitting, but the food obviously wasn’t just for her. “The...assat-cho.”
Railen let out a hearty laugh and pointed at the ground on the other side of the fae man. “Sit. Please. You look half-starved, Guardian. No doubt the journey here has taken its toll.”
A crooked smile of bitter amus
ement spread across her lips as she headed toward the open space beside Leandras. “You could say that, yeah.”
“And I would love to hear all about it.” The mage didn’t stop staring at her as she lowered herself onto the packed dirt at the fae man’s side. “But a tale told on an empty stomach is as lacking in sustenance as the storyteller, eh?”
“I guess.” Jessica stared at the dishes, her gut folding in on itself in both hunger and trepidation.
How the hell could she be sure stuffing her face with Xaharí food wouldn’t be worse than not eating anything at all in this world?
When they’d arrived, she would have said nothing remotely life-sustaining could have grown from the scorched earth of Xahar’áhsh. Everything beneath the roiling green storm of this world’s sky had looked thoroughly poisoned and probably was. Not to mention the fact that less than an hour ago, Leandras had tried to explain some kind of change in the way things worked here—in his certainty about his own purpose, whatever the hell that was, and in his screwed-up beliefs about what Jessica Northwood the vestrohím Guardian was now capable of in the birth-world of magic.
Namely bringing the infuriatingly stubborn, secretive, deceitful fae man back from the fucking dead.
Jessica didn’t trust any of that, and despite how dangerously close she was to shoveling handfuls of steaming food she couldn’t name into her mouth just to settle her aching stomach, she didn’t know if she could trust any of this, either.
Leandras grabbed the edge of the closest basket and slid it across the ground toward her. “It won’t kill you, if that’s the cause of your hesitation.”
She shot him a sidelong glance and found him smirking at her. “You know that for a fact, huh?”
“The food is pure, Jessica. If our current surroundings are any indication, I can assure you the rest of what you’ll find here is entirely safe.” He looked her up and down, then a small flicker of concern creased his eyebrows. “And you do look like you could use a meal.”
“Huh. And here I was thinking a few centuries on Earth would have taught you what not to say when you take a girl out to dinner.”
Railen barked out another laugh and dipped his hand into the basket in front of him. A squirming nest of the speckled noodle-things dangled from his fingers before he threw his head back to drop them into his open mouth.
Leandras stared at her. “I’m merely concerned—”
“About my well-being, right? Yeah, I get it.” Shaking her head, she snorted and returned her attention to the basket that smelled like the kitchen of an Indian-food restaurant that had been doused with sweet-and-spicey orange-chicken sauce.
Hell of an ethnic-food mashup.
Then she saw the cubed chunks of what looked like the Xaharí version of cooked lamb or maybe even a well-done porkchop. Whatever it was, it was definitely meat.
Jessica pointed at the cubes and frowned. “I thought you said every creature here is sentient.”
The fae man tilted his head and blinked furiously at the food, his lips pursing as he apparently considered the loophole here.
“Okay, I’ve never considered being a vegetarian in my life, but I’m not eating something that can talk. Could talk. Whatever.”
Railen finished slurping the last noodle-things into his mouth and leaned forward to catch Leandras’ gaze as he swallowed. “Well now I’m incredibly curious to hear why you would tell her such a thing without explaining the rest.”
“The rest?” Jessica found herself leaning toward the basket in front of her just to breathe in the tantalizing smell.
Leandras came as close to rolling his eyes as he ever did and pointed at the food. “Eat.”
“The rest of what?”
He grabbed a chunk of meat from the basket, popped it into his mouth, and stared at her as he chewed.
Oh, sure. He had no problem eating sentient flesh. Then again, Leandras didn’t have a problem with a lot of seriously questionable things in the first place.
“Mmm...” He raised his eyebrows and smirked.
“Stop.”
Railen chuckled. “It’s all perfectly safe, Jessica. And nothing set before you has ever had the ability to talk.”
Leandras snorted and dipped his head to hide a smile.
“This place provides us with everything we need,” the mage continued. “Shelter. Protection. Privacy. And yes, food that does not leave a stain on one’s conscience to acquire.”
With a dubious frown, Jessica reached tentatively toward the basket and drew out a handful of the steamed, blood-red leaves. Whatever that meat was, she wasn’t touching it.
Trying to ignore the stares of both men watching her intently, she haltingly raised the handful to her mouth and took her chances.
Par for the course at this point, right?
The second she bit down on the giant mouthful, a sigh of relief escaped her. Then it took everything she had not to groan in pleasure as the heavy spices that had filled her nose now seemed to fill the rest of her with a surprisingly tart sweetness added to the mix. “Holy shit. This is...”
“Assat-cho.” Leandras chuckled.
“Call it whatever you want.” Jessica swallowed and reached for more. “It’s amazing.”
“I’m happy to see you so pleased.” Railen grinned. “There’s plenty more, so don’t hesitate to...”
After shoveling two more handfuls into her mouth, Jessica grabbed the basket and settled it in her lap. Only then, with a mouthful of assat-cho and a long string of heavy sighs as she chewed and swallowed and felt like she was bringing herself back from the dead, did she realize the mage had stopped talking. She looked up at him and wiped the tangy sauce from the corner of her mouth. “What?”
Leandras burst out laughing.
Railen dipped his head and blinked quickly. “All we have for the Guardian, I suppose.”
“What’s wrong?” Jessica slowly stopped chewing and looked at the fae man for explanation. “He said I could have as much as I wanted.”
“Communal meals, Jessica.”
“Right. But this is all laid out in front of us right here, so it’s—”
With impeccable timing, a troll man stopped in front of their feast-laden baskets and stooped to grab a handful from the dish in front of Leandras. He paused when he saw the basket of assat-cho in the guardian’s lap, then shot Railen a confused glance. The mage let out a wry chuckle and shrugged.
Shoving one of the glowing blue radish-things into his mouth, the troll man dipped his head toward Jessica and muttered, “Guardian.”
Then he straightened and headed back toward another group of laughing magicals, shooting her a final glance over his shoulder.
“Oh.” Jessica slid the basket off her lap and pushed it out in front of her.
Leandras stared at the assat-cho and leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “If you were anyone else, I imagine the response would be far less agreeable.”
“Because I put a basket of food in my lap?”
“I suppose we might consider this your first lesson in cultural etiquette.”
She punched him lightly in the shoulder—not too hard but enough to get across her exasperation. “You couldn’t have told me that before I just bogarted the whole thing?”
The fae man huffed out a low laugh. “Well I didn’t expect you to stake your claim on the assat-cho as well as the Gateway...”
“Shut up.”
And now she’d just made a complete ass of herself in front of the original Laenmúr magicals who’d apparently thrown this woodland party at her arrival.
Way to kick things off on the wrong foot.
Biting her lip, Jessica leaned forward to look past the fae at Railen. “Sorry. I didn’t—”
“No need to apologize.” The mage waved her off, and his grin returned as he reached for the food she’s apparently tainted and grabbed a dripping handful of cooked red leaves for himself.
She stared at the basket and tried to make her face a completely blank mas
k of nothingness. After being pummeled with one deadly attack after another since landing in this world, she hadn’t had the time to stop and think about what communal meals really entailed. Especially the ones like this shared between who knew how many magicals without a single utensil in sight.
Great. Food-poisoning might have been out of the question, but now she seriously hoped the Laenmúr here valued personal hygiene as much as they valued throwing parties around a magical bonfire.
Railen cleared his throat and shrugged. “The Laen’aroth merely failed to provide you with an adequate understanding of our ways.”
Leandras whipped his head toward the mage and scowled. “You think me a tutor, Railen?”
“I assumed you were an adequate guide.”
“I haven’t brought some foreign dignitary to your borders to observe the strictures of Xaharí tradition.” Leandras gestured toward Jessica, as if she were somewhere across the clearing instead of sitting right beside him.
Widening her eyes, Jessica reached for more food and continued eating in silence. She’d handled poison before just fine, and she could handle a little dirt and germs in her food if it meant she got a decent meal. The fae and the mage could duke it out on their own without her.
Not her fight. Not her problem.
But about damn time the fae man got at least a slap on the wrist for not having told her a goddamn thing.
“No?” Railen continued. “Then I must have mistaken the definition of foreign—”
“I brought her here. To you. As promised. And there was hardly time to prepare her for the larger obstacles, let alone the minutest details of what to expect with you and the Order.”
Jessica turned toward him with a harsh laugh and clapped a hand over her mouth to keep the assat-cho from spewing out all over everyone else’s shared food. “I’m sorry. You think you actually prepared me? Like for anything?”
Both men slowly looked away from each other and turned toward Jessica with wide eyes.
Like they’d forgotten she was there.
Leandras’ silver gaze roamed all over her face, and he blinked once. “Jessica, there wasn’t time—”
The Spellcast Gate (Accessory to Magic Book 5) Page 2
