Sorcerybound (World's First Wizard Book 2) by Aaron Schneider (best color ereader .TXT) 📗

hooded eyes looking through Brodden. “She will write back with haste to tell you her answer is yes.”

Brodden made to say something, but his mouth seemed ill-equipped. He only managed a hoarse splutter.

“Don’t speak,” the contessa warned in her medium’s drone. “A single word could unhinge the magic and release an awful curse on both of you.”

Brodden freed his fingers to clap both his hands over his mouth as he shuffled backward, his face seeming ready to split in half from terror and excitement. He rocked on the balls of his feet to the point that Milo thought the man might lose his balance and a new medical emergency would arise.

“Go now with this boon,” Rihyani decreed, fingers still stretched out toward him. “And speak of it to no one lest the curse be visited upon both of you until your dying days.”

Brodden staggered back and fumbled for his medical bags.

“Hurry, man!” Ambrose barked, making Brodden jump like a startled cat. “Before it's too late and goblins dog you all the way back to Germany.”

Brodden was still juggling his pack as he tore out of the room, and the sound of his pounding boots could be heard through the entire wing of the complex as he fled. Only as the last of his hammering steps faded did the three left in the room allow themselves a hearty laugh.

“Did you see his face?” Milo gasped between hoots of laughter, “But goblins, really?”

“A bit much?” Ambrose asked as he chuckled from the depths of his vast belly.

“A bit.” Rihyani giggled and threw him a wink.

It was a few more minutes before they were composed enough for Milo to ask the question that had formed as he’d taken part in the spectacle.

“That wasn’t any kind of actual magic though, right?” Milo asked, glancing to where Brodden had stood moments ago. “I mean, I could feel your will at work, and I don’t know how you could work on a will that isn’t here.”

“Oh, you’d be amazed what the Art can accomplish with a little ingenuity,” Rihyani said, smiling up at him before fluttering her fingers. A glowing cigarillo appeared between her fingers. “Our magic may be temperamental, but it is remarkable what we can achieve.”

Milo stared at her, chin lowered and eyebrows raised.

“Oh, fine. No, it wasn’t magic,” she said before taking a toke and releasing a fragrant plume of smoke. “Just a little bit of observation. To pass the time, he’d usually read his letters from home, including those from a lovely young woman named Johanna. I’m not sure if he knows this, but the man mutters every other word as he reads.”

Milo and Ambrose stared at the contessa.

“You could hear even when you were out?” Ambrose asked.

Rihyani nodded and took a heavy drag.

“One of the wonders of being fey is that we are never absent or insensate,” she said with a sigh as she looked into the fire. “We can disconnect ourselves from aspects of our physical bodies to free our minds to wander, and that is the closest we get to sleeping or dreaming. Or in my case, giving me a little buffer from my injuries.”

She shuddered at that, and they lapsed into silence.

As Milo considered this fact in light of the extremely long, possibly immortal lifespans of the fey, he suddenly understood why they all seemed eccentric in one way or another. Centuries and no true sleep; no wonder they all seemed a little—or a lot,—odd.

“So, the nightwatch,” Milo began, an uncomfortable thought worming its way through his mind. “What did it do?”

Rihyani looked at him squarely in his face, and he felt a pang as he remembered her pained cry as she came to.

“It made sure I knew you needed my attention,” she said softly.

Milo felt his cheeks burning and struggled to hold her gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that,” she replied.

Ambrose looked at the two of them, sensing more at play than a misunderstanding of fey physiology.

“Well, that sounds downright hellish,” he said finally with a slow shake of his head. “If I couldn’t enjoy a good snooze, I think I’d have eaten a bullet or four by now.”

Not that it would’ve done you any good, Milo thought, and he felt a sudden thrill of fear as he glanced at the fey. He’d worried for an instant that she might have heard the sentiment, but then he remembered the disentangling after the hex was released, and he breathed a sigh of relief. That level of connection was something he still viewed like a blazing fire: powerful but more than a little dangerous. Yet, like dancing flames, he wasn’t going to forget the warmth of it anytime soon.

Rihyani felt his gaze upon her again and she looked up at him, turning her head coyly with a teasing smile on her dark lips.

“Yes?” she asked coaxingly.

“Um-uh,” he stammered as his mind scrambled. “I was just wondering if you know, uh, with no magic at play, if Brodden was in for a rather disappointing letter from Johanna?”

Rihyani shook her head, and Milo noticed that already her hair didn’t seem quite so lank or her cheeks so sunken.

“Oh, Brodden has nothing to worry about,” she said brightly. “Even with missing every other word, I could tell the sweet Johanna’s been practically burning with longing for him to ask her.”

“And the poor fool needed a fey to bully him into it?” Ambrose chuckled.

“Some men need a little extra help,” Rihyani said, and Milo couldn’t help noticing the sidelong glance she gave him through a cloud of tobacco smoke.

By dusk, they all stood upon the battlements of the fortress to watch Lokkemand and his entourage depart. Ambrose muttered curses, most concerning Lokkemand and his parentage, while Rihyani, who was more herself by the second, watched with an enigmatic expression. Milo remained silent, wrestling with an odd combination of guilt and relief.

What might happen to Nicht-KAT, Jorge, and yes, even Lokkemand, troubled him, but the fact was, he was free to do as