“Omniscient?” I ask, still looking out the window.
“Some people think it is.”
“Not what I meant,” I mutter.
“Think of it as similar to a mortal’s god.”
“So she can see everything and understand our fates?”
“Some people think so. It chooses the triunes, and it has a lot of control over the flow of power through our realm.”
“Is she close?” I ask, which is a much simpler question.
“Yes. Eydis’ domain practically touches the border.”
“I thought she was supposed to smell bad.”
“It, she, does from the outside,” he says, but he sounds rather like he’s talking to a toddler who’s beginning to get annoying. “Why are you still staring out there? What can you see?”
“Um, I’m not seeing anything right now, but I’m looking for shimmers, or waves, or power rippling, or something. Won’t being this close to her weaken you guys?”
“Not while we’re inside Eydis’ domain. Her wards cocoon the magic in here. Hm, not cocoon - that implies nothing can escape. More like filter. And the nearby spring will draw the border’s attention. We won’t be affected.”
“There, that shimmer – did you see it this time?” I ask.
He hooks his finger under my chin and tries to turn my face, his dark eyes searching mine. For half a beat I wonder if he thinks I’m broken, then I lose my ability to think altogether. Staring back into those intense eyes, like black pools, impossibly dark, but full of the kind of depth that sad and lost things fall into to find a home.
My attention drops to his chest, then abs. Damn, even this guy’s legs are hot.
What the bralls has gotten into me?!
“My power is hijacking the way you see me,” he mutters. “Probably the way you see others too – but it shouldn’t change the way you see magic or objects.”
My focus shifts back to the trees. On the spot where they thin out, then stop all together, creating the cleared space around us. A man riding a black horse ambles into view. Not a Silvari. His cloak is heavy with the hood pulled up against the rain. The horse is bulky; even the saddle looks bulky and almost primitive. Silvari fashion is light and made from finer things than the wet dog he’s wearing, and Silvari horses look like they’re bred from the wind.
It amazes me how obviously mortal he is. I must really stand out among these people.
“What about him?” I ask. “Can you see him?”
Roarke stills, letting go of my chin and following my gaze.
“Yes,” he growls.
Roarke can growl?
He runs for the stairs, and I dash to keep within my new fifteen pace limit.
“If I need to cover your ears, you let me, got it?”
“Not even arguing,” I say.
Of course, I’m not going to argue. I’m also trying really hard not to let his words sink in. We’re screwed. I fight with as much skill as a five-year-old with one arm. His best weapon is his voice – and I can’t even cover my ears.
Screwed.
He pulls his sword from where he’d left it beside the front door. Not sure when he put it there, probably while I was unconscious.
Please don’t knock me unconscious again, I think. Then I’m out the door behind him and into the rain. My light shirt is instantly drenched, and my hair sticks heavily to my neck and face.
The mortal guy pulls his horse to a stop on the other side of the stream and flips his hood back, revealing a youthful face and short dark hair. He’s older, but only just, and those lean muscles of his look more than capable of putting up a fight. His gaze is sharp, and for a few long moments, he just looks back and forth between Roarke and me, watching us approach.
We get within talking distance then Roarke holds his arm out, making sure I stop behind him.
“Neither one of you are Eydis. Where is she?” he asks, his voice a deep timbre that travels easily through the distance and the rain.
“You’d better introduce yourself, stranger,” Roarke calls back.
The guy’s lips tweak at the corners. Clearly deciding that, for some reason, he likes Roarke. “An Elorsin? With a mortal servant?”
Which takes me by surprise, but Roarke doesn’t skip a beat. “And you are?”
All the time we spent traveling here and only one other person picked any of my guys as being Elorsin royalty. This mortal wanders in from Desayer Realm, takes one look, in the rain, and puts his finger on Roarke’s lineage just like that.
By the way Roarke is bristling, he’s pretty pissed about it too.
The guy dismounts. His hand tactfully doesn’t go anywhere near the hilt of his sword. With a confident stride, he moves to the edge of the stream and stops.
“This is as close as I come,” he announces. Which doesn’t seem to make Roarke relax at all. “I’m Leon. I hold the title of the strongest mage on the mortal side. You do realize the girl is mortal?”
“I’ve heard of you,” Roarke growls. I haven’t. “And who the girl is, is none of your business.”
“Shade. Lord Martin’s soot-servant, and a mortal. When the cook said you were purchased, I hadn’t expected by the Elorsins. But then, the Lord does like to play games with power and information.”
“Cook?” I stammer, excited just to hear her name. “You know Cook?”
Roarke's fist closes on the front of my wet shirt, and he pulls me further behind him.
“Not really,” the mage says. “But I work in the information business.”
I haven’t heard of him either. The only mortal mage I’ve ever heard about is the woman they recently knighted in Fairlarn. Hunter or Kemla or something. Leon isn’t a woman, so that leaves me in the dark.
“I’ve been liaising with Eydis for several years, trying to save both our worlds.”
“And?” Roarke’s tone is still aggressive.
I mean, this mortal is ticking all the boxes when it comes to being peaceful and respectful. His smile is gentle even
