“Yeah, I know that.” She gestured toward Railen. “But you make it sound like you gave me some kind of crash-course before we stepped through the Gateway.”
“He did not?” the mage asked.
“I mean, unless we’re talking about literally crashing all over your world, then no. Even the Cliffsnotes version of Being a Guardian For Dummies would’ve been massively more helpful than what I got from this fae.”
Railen snorted.
Leandras pressed his lips together and stared at her. “I believe I’ve been highly more beneficial to you than a book that has yet to exist.”
“Wow.” Jessica swallowed, choked on a laugh, and couldn’t help but grin at the fae man’s irritation and what looked like a wide-eyed warning not to continue divulging their shared struggles in public like this. “You choose now of all times to finally start taking me literally?”
“There are far too many pieces at play to—”
“Oh, come off it, Leandras.” Railen thumped the fae in the shoulder and laughed. “I’ve spent more than enough time listening to your silvered tongue muddying the waters.”
Jessica leaned forward to peer pass Leandras and fixed her grin on the mage. “You too, huh?”
Railen slapped his hand down on the dirt in front of him and nodded once. “Time to rectify that, I think.”
A low growl escaped Leandras. “I am not prepared to face Ocaiye.”
“Who said anything about Ocaiye?” The mage stood and dusted loose dirt and bits of grass off his robe. “If that old relic won’t come out to greet the Guardian and the Laen’aroth with the rest of us, it’s neither of our concern.”
“Wait, what are we talking about here?” Jessica glanced back and forth between the men.
Leandras looked pissed, even when a chuckling Railen clapped a hand on his shoulder again and gave the fae man a little shake where he sat in the dirt.
“Everything, Jessica.” The mage shot her a wink, then nodded toward one of the tents lining the edge of the clearing behind them. “Absolutely everything. And don’t let that one sulk too long, eh? I’m sure he was looking forward to revealing the rest to you on his own time, and who knows when that would be? In this place, however, time belongs to the Laenmúr.”
Laughing and shaking his head, Railen headed toward the tent and disappeared through the entrance flap. The thick canvas thumped back into place behind him, and that was it.
Jessica returned her attention to the fae man and cocked her head, unable to hide an impertinent smirk as Leandras scowled at the ground.
This must have been exactly how he’d felt every time he’d fixed her with the same expression. And now she understood why he gave her that infuriating smirk so damn often.
When the truth was funny, it was really fucking funny.
“Did you hear that?” she asked, fighting back a wild laugh. “Absolutely everything. Not just what I want to know. Not just what you want to tell me. Not later. Right now. And I didn’t even have to swear another binding.”
He sighed heavily through his nose and wouldn’t stop glaring at the baskets of food in front of him. “Jessica, so many things are unclear and misleading when taken out of context.”
“Well it’s a hell of a lot better than no context and no information at all. It can’t be any worse than all the other unclear and misleading crap you’ve been feeding me, right?” Only when she pushed herself to her feet did the fae man slowly turn his head to look up at her. “You know, I’m actually kinda glad you didn’t say anything about your Laenmúr friends on this side of the Gateway. This is one of the best surprises I’ve had in a long time. So quit sulking and come join us.”
As she turned to head for the tent, damn-near giddy at the thought of finally getting some real answers and trying not to burst out laughing, Leandras stood abruptly and lunged toward her. “If I’d had the opportunity to fully explain before now, I would have—”
A massive explosion wracked the center of the clearing, followed by a bellowing roar from the flames shooting ten feet into the air and casting multi-colored sparks down onto the dancers. Instead of the usual screaming and running that came with a sound like that, not to mention hurtling flames, the clearing only filled with wilder whoops and cheers and laughter. The drumming stopped abruptly, then picked up again at a furious pace, the drummer’s arms swinging wildly with each beat until the magicals became mere blurs standing in place.
“Whoa.” Jessica drank in the sight with wide eyes, relishing the heat of the magical flames as it washed across the party ground with renewed strength.
Her grin widened, and a small knot tightened in her gut at the beauty of this entire night. The brilliant bonfire now seemed to drown out even the noxious green glow of the storm-sky, and despite the complete lack of stars or moon in this world, Jessica couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt freer.
Really, truly free.
Time belonged to the Laenmúr here. To all of them, and apparently, they had plenty of it.
For now, she could let herself pretend the future was far enough away that it might as well not have existed. She could pretend she belonged here, with these magicals dancing and hooting and abandoning all fear and inhibition just to enjoy the moment.
Because they all knew how rare enjoyable moments were these days, didn’t they? Both in this world still being ravaged by the Dalu’Rázj and on Earth, especially if Jessica and Leandras didn’t finish exactly what they’d come here to do.
For now, both worlds could wait a little longer while Jessica armed herself not only with her fully restored magic—and whatever weird new abilities had suddenly sprung up within them in this place—but with the knowledge she was seconds away from finally getting.
She turned toward Leandras’ and found the fae man staring at the flames too, the multi-colored light flickering across the beautifully, dangerously etched lines of his face and dancing in his silver-hued eyes. “Let’s go.”
He blinked quickly and seemed almost not to have heard her. So Jessica reached out, meaning only to give his shoulder a little nudge and break him out of the same spell of gratitude that had held her just seconds before.
Leandras spun toward her with wide eyes, and his hand moved at an impossible speed to clamp down around her wrist.
Chapter 3
For a moment, they stared at each other, and Jessica’s smile faded. Here he went again, looking all creepy and life-and-death urgent.
“Listen to me, Jessica.”
“Yeah, and feel free to let go of—”
“I mean it.” He stepped toward her, his fingers digging painfully into her wrist again.
Hadn’t they already been through this on the other side of the damn forest?
Now she was glaring at him. “So do I. Let go of me.”
He blinked furiously and glanced at his hand clenching her wrist. Immediately, he let her go and lifted both hands in concession, dipping his head once as he held her gaze. “Not everything is as it seems. Do you understand? Whatever you may hear, whatever Railen may tell you about... about what the Dalu’Rázj wants—”
“I wasn’t planning on going into that tent by myself, Leandras.” She looked him up and down, then turned away to head toward this imminent meeting with the original Order of Laenmúr’s leader. “So if you don’t want anything to get lost in translation, move your ass and come join us.”
That was all she could think of to say before she turned around and headed quickly for the tent, moving faster than she had to just to avoid being grabbed and stopped again.
Tonight, nothing could keep her from sitting down with that mage—even a mage wearing a brown robe like he’d come straight out of some fantasy movie—and having the conversation she’d needed to have with someone since day one at Winthrop & Dirledge. If Leandras wasn’t going to be that someone, that was on him.
At this point, she had a feeling all the fae man’s posturing and vague warnings about what was and wasn’t reality were just his att
empts to save his own ass.
What he’d need to cover up in this place—where they’d been so warmly welcomed by an order who’d dedicated the last few millennia at least to standing against the high-level bastard tearing this world apart—was anyone’s guess.
If Jessica couldn’t draw it out of him, maybe the leader of Xahar’áhsh’s only chance at survival would do it instead.
The tent flap was heavy in Jessica’s hand as she drew it aside and stepped into the small dwelling. At least, it had looked fairly small from the outside—no bigger than a storage shed. And yeah, while she’d gotten used to the witching vault being bigger than could possibly fit inside the bank’s physical structure, seeing a tent in this world look like a freaking palace on the other side of the canvas still made her pause.
Lanterns of glass and metal hung from the canvas ceiling, flickering with violet and maroon light. Massive pillows the size of couch cushions were strewn about, decorated in the same style of beads and feathers and ribbons with which the Laenmúr celebrating outside had decorated themselves. An especially thick pile of pillows was arranged at the back of the tent beside a large wardrobe etched with an elegantly detailed depiction of flowers, vines, and wings across the polished wooden doors. A curio cabinet framed in what looked like tarnished brass sat along the righthand wall of the tent, its doors open to reveal shelving of meticulously arranged glass bottles, vials, opaque jars, and small lidded boxes. They all looked made of the same material as the cordial glasses Railen now filled with the light tinkling of very fine liquid pouring into even finer vessels.
Whatever she’d just stepped into, it definitely didn’t feel like a pop-up shop for a quick camping trip in the forest to celebrate the Guardian’s arrival.
It felt like a home. Railen’s home.
And if she was right, that meant the Laenmúr had been hunkering down in this forest—in this clearing—for a lot longer than she’d thought.
Hundreds of years, even.
Maybe thousands.
“Ah.” Railen stood behind a highly glossed table on the left, where he’d gathered the three small cordial glasses that looked like they were made of pale-green eggshell. The pop and thin squeak of a cork bursting from a bottle top filled the tent, then the mage looked up at her with an expectant smile. “I honestly expected you to take a little longer out there. It’s hard to pull oneself away from a celebration like that.”
“Seemed easy enough for you,” Jessica muttered absently as she slowly stepped into the tent.
“Ah, yes. I suppose that’s to be expected. The festivities may have lost their novelty for me by now.”
“You mean you guys party like this all the time?”
With his head still tilted downward to focus on his table of drinks—whatever they were—the mage looked up at her from beneath his furrowing brows, but a small smile flickered across his mouth before disappearing. “Not quite like this, Jessica. No.”
He lifted a second bottle he’d uncorked and tilted it to pour, then paused. “Has Leandras refused our exchange?”
She turned around to eye the tent’s entrance flap, which hadn’t yet moved aside.
Where was the damn fae?
“He shouldn’t have.” Jessica ran a hand through her dust-covered, tangled hair. She could only imagine what she must look like now after an entire day of traveling abroad through Xahar’áhsh. Maybe more than a day. Maybe less. It was impossible to tell in this place, and if Ardicus was to be believed about this whole forest-time-loop thing, they could be here for years without wasting a single second on the outside in either world.
They could be here for centuries, even. Like the original Order of Laenmúr.
With her focus now split between the unmoving entrance of the tent and the insanely decorated interior, Jessica slowly stepped farther inside. “I thought he was right behind me.”
Railen’s eyes widened, and his gaze flickered back and forth between her face and the entrance. “That’s unfortunate. I was hoping he’d stick around long enough for the three of us to do this together. He’s more than just an accessory in all this.”
She snorted. “Accessory. Right. Before and after the fact.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing.” Jessica shook her head and eyed the entrance one more time.
Leandras had basically turned to panic out there beside the bonfire, telling her not to believe everything she heard. Not to take it out of context, the way he’d been doing since the first day he’d stepped into the bank she’d only recently acquired at that point. If he was so damn worried about what Railen meant to tell her in here, why didn’t he show up to try his hand at mediating?
He’d already brokered at least two ridiculously nauseating deals with the Naruli people and the equally infuriating fae Mitra.
Maybe that was why he’d lost it. With the Laenmúr and their leader specifically, Leandras couldn’t talk his way out of everything with a few slick words and all the tricks up his magical sleeves.
Maybe he thought he’d finally be called out on his bullshit, and the fact he wasn’t willing to endure that now, here, after how far they’d come made Jessica’s guts squirm around in knots.
He was still hiding something.
“I can’t say I’m particularly surprised, though,” Railen continued. “The Laen’aroth has a rather frustrating habit of stepping off the path at the last second.”
Jessica stopped in the center of the huge tent and turned toward her host with wide eyes. “He does that to you too, huh?”
“Always has. I imagine he always will. But there’s still enough left in him to be trusted, at least for our purposes.” He grabbed two of the three delicate cordial glasses and headed toward her. “He brought you here to us, after all.”
She absently accepted the glass, briefly surprised by how feather-light it felt in her hand despite being filled with liquid. But most of her focus remained on the sad and yet still painfully hopeful smile Railen aimed her way. “Should I trust him?”
The mage blinked and raised his eyebrows. “None of us can tell you what to do or believe, Jessica. The Guardian makes her own decisions. Though I will say that if you haven’t written him off by now, you’ve already made up your mind. It’s not the finding of an answer that makes a question difficult. Answers are easy. It’s the acceptance of them and acting on what we already know that tends to freeze one’s confidence.”
Jesus. The leader of the original Laenmúr was a philosopher now too, huh?
If he ended up turning this into a therapy session, Jessica would rather take her chances with the party outside.
Maybe that was why Leandras had refused to—
The tent flap whumped aside with a flourish, and the fae man dipped his head as he slipped inside. Then he blinked, looked around with wide eyes, and finally found Jessica and their host standing there with drinks in hand. “Have I missed it?”
Speak of the devil.
She didn’t know if she was glad to see he’d changed his mind or severely irritated by his inability to make a decision and just freaking stick with it.
Just how open and honest of a conversation could she really have with Railen if the Laen’aroth was here the whole time, listening in on everything?
Railen grinned and dipped his head in greeting. “Not at all. Help yourself.”
When the mage gestured toward the polished side table with the single remaining cordial glass, the urgency melted away from Leandras’ features. He straightened, took a deep breath through his nose, and ran a hand through his similarly dust-encrusted hair. “Excellent.”
With a knowing smirk, Railen returned his gaze to Jessica.
Something about this felt off. Not quite right. Maybe even severely awkward, and she was more used to awkward in all its forms than most magicals she knew.
After shooting their host a quick, tight smile, she took off after Leandras and stopped on the other side of the table while he sprinkled some powder from a tiny decorat
ive box there on the tray. She leaned forward and whispered, “What took you so long?”
“Contemplation, Jessica.” He said it at normal speaking volume, instantly shooting down her attempt to have a private conversation before their other private conversation with Railen even started. “You should try it sometime. I highly recommend it.”
The mage snorted on the other side of the tent.
Jessica stared at the fae. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that while we’re here, I’d rather weigh my options than jump head-first into brash decisions.”
“Weigh your options?” She started to spread her arms, then remembered the full cordial glass in her hand and stopped herself halfway. “What other option is there right now?”
“For the Laen’aroth,” Railen cut in, “I imagine there are many.”
Leandras held Jessica’s gaze with an intensity she couldn’t figure out, but his reply was for their host. “Many more now since our arrival, it seems.”
“Really?” The mage sounded remarkably amused by the idea as he lowered himself to an arranged circle of giant pillows on the ground around a low, round table rising only six inches above the ornate rug. “Then I’m honored you decided to join us for such a scintillating revelation.”
“That’s one way to describe it.” A tiny smile flickered across the fae man’s lips as his weirdly intense gaze rooted Jessica to the spot.
He was planning something. Trying to play one more goddamn game, wasn’t he?
And here she was, thinking he’d come to some kind of self-awareness before they’d been so abruptly interrupted outside the forest and brought to the clearing. Now they’d never have the chance to work out...whatever this was between them.
“This is sure to be one hell of a discussion,” he muttered, raising his cordial glass toward her before sweeping past her to join Railen on the floor.
The mage chuckled. “I see you’ve picked up a few otherworld colloquialisms in your time abroad.”
“Most of them come from the Guardian, actually.” When Leandras settled on a giant pillow and crossed his legs beneath him, both men looked expectantly up at Jessica.
The Spellcast Gate (Accessory to Magic Book 5) Page 3
