Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) (24 page)

The information Death had given me posed a couple of problems. The first was that I would never have the advantage over the one he had called immortal. If he grew with me, it followed that the faster I gained power, the faster he would as well, so from that view, it was better for me to slow down on how fast I was learning. On the other hand, the faster he grew, the faster I would, too. With this in mind, I wondered if the inverse was also true—a devastating blow to him would cause a corresponding blow to me.

The thought made me stop with my potion at my lips.

If he was hurting like I was, now was the best time to find him out, while he was weak. Though with me weak, too, that might not work so well. But would he heal faster, if I did? Untouched, I lowered the cup to the counter.

“I had the feeling you wouldn't be resting for long,” Father said. He entered the hut and slumped into the chair.

“You here to stop me from going out?” I asked.

Father passed his hand through his hair and thought about it. “No, but the village is grieving. Going out among them might not be a wise course of action. Better they think you at death's door.”

“I was.”

“I know. How many times do you have to do that to us?”

I couldn't resist the urge to tell someone. “I talked to him again.”

“Who?”

“Death.”

Father lifted his head and he stared at me. Long seconds ticked by, neither of us moving, me gripping the counter to keep my feet, him weighing what I had said.

“What did he say?” Father asked.

“This is the second time I've talked to him. The first time was after he broke the gryphon's curse.”

“Feraline, is this a hallucination?”

I shook my head. “I've had enough to know. Have you heard of encounters with him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe them?”

Father hesitated. “I did not. Not at first. But when you hear the same thing over and over again, by people who have no connection with one another, it becomes impossible to deny it.”

“He brought me back to life. That was how to break the curse, but he wanted something in return.”

“Your services.”

My heart skipped. “You've found another agent? Who is it?”

Father shook his head. “I have heard stories. Agent, that's a new term. I'm familiar with 'hero'. Great deeds, great heartbreaks, difficult times. I would rather have heard that you were to settle down quietly. This is a burden I wouldn't wish on any of my children.”

“Death told me of an imbalance. He called it an immortal, something he couldn't touch, but that I could.”

“Did he say who it was?”

“No.”

“You will be at a disadvantage. Your name and deeds are splashed across newspapers and in public debates. Heroes can hide while their opponents take the public eye.”

I shivered. “And I'm being painted as a villain by some people.”

“You'll have to be cautious.”

“Perhaps, it's for the best,” I said. “If I gain a following somewhere, he will gain one elsewhere. But if I can avoid popularity, then will he have any better fortune?”

“It is impossible to know.”

“You don't think I'm crazy?”

Father got up, uncorked a green bottle of a sweet-smelling booze, and poured some for both of us. “I think you're crazy for falling in with Mordon so fast. How long have you two known each other?”

Crap. How long had it been?

“A while.”

“Tell me it's been at least three months.”

“Um.” Had it been three weeks or four or five? Something like that? Should I count all the time I spent under Lilly's sleep potions?

“Feraline.”

“To be fair, I don't know how long to count our time spent in the Wildwoods as.”

“Discount it, then. How long had you known him before you decided to be his mate?”

“Oh, some weeks,” I answered and swigged the healing potion. It tasted worse than I remembered.

“Weeks? Like, eight weeks?”

I knocked back Father's booze in one fell swoop. It burned and gave me an excuse for a raspy voice. “…like, two.”

“Two weeks!” Father threw up his hands and stalked off. He rubbed his hair into complete Alfred Einstein disorder, then looked back at me. “He's a stranger. You don't know him at all.”

“Which is why I didn't tell him yes. Not that I told him no, either.”

Father sighed. “You're leading the poor fellow on.”

I poured myself another measure of the stuff from the green bottle. “A minute ago, he was a predator, and now I'm a teasing hussy?”

“You're dropping a lot on me at once.”

“Hey, I didn't come home randomly with a spouse, unlike my brother.”

“Men are allowed to come home with wives. When it happens to a woman, we assume there's another reason behind it.” His eyes narrowed and he scrutinized my stomach. “Which there isn't, is there?”

My cheeks flushed. “Another comment like that and I'll toss you out or break a rib trying.”

“I know you slept with him.”

My face went pale and I gasped. “What I do with him is none of your business.”

“You are my daughter. It is every bit my business.”

By a herculean feat of willpower, I resisted the urge to throw the bottle at him. “There's no winning on this subject, is there? If we marry, you'll panic about me wedding a stranger. If we don't, you'll fret about him knocking me up and not sticking around. Or is it just my virtue you're guarding?”

“Welcome to parenthood, you've summed up the dating season very aptly.”

I rolled my eyes.

“For the remainder of the visit, he will be a perfect gentleman. If I so much as see the two of you necking…”

“Whoa, hey, I can't even stand to see you and Mother kiss, alright? You watching me doing anything is totally off-limits.”

I got Father to turn beet red. He stammered on his threat, so I was spared having to hear it. At last, he managed, “I know you're a grown woman and you don't need to listen to me anymore, but I do wish you would listen anyway.”

I sighed. “Look, I'm crazy in love with him, and he's a good man, and I trust him, he's got a good future and I can see myself in it with him. Can you ask for anything better for me?”

Father's lip twitched into a slanted smile. He put a hand on my shoulder and shook his head, then gave me a hug.

I sagged with relief.

As Father went out the door, I heard him say in passing a single-worded greeting,

“Meadows.”

“Magnus.”

At once I bolted upright again. How much had Mordon heard?

Mordon came to a stop right in front of me, put an arm around each side of me so I was trapped between him and the counter. I averted my gaze to his forearm. Mordon lowered his head, I dodged meeting his eyes.

“Mordon,” I murmured, biting my lip.

“Fera.”

“What did you hear?” I asked at last.

“I decided it wasn't a good time to interrupt when I heard you say that there wasn't any winning with your father. Some of the things you said I would rather hear you tell me face to face.”

I felt dizzy. The counter steadied me. “I…I wasn't lying, but I'm scared of this. Of us. How you make me feel. Sometimes, I'm afraid of what you could do, if you wanted to.”

Mordon smiled and lifted his head.

We didn't speak again while we made something to eat, neither one of us hungry, just the two of us working together. It started with me slicing an apple, expanded when he pulled a wedge of cheese from the cabinet. Then the same with thin pieces of cured salamis and chorizo, brined olives of various colors, and even a little bit of bread and butter and balsamic vinegar. Mordon assembled it on a tray made of a giant leaf glossed with something that smelled like honey yet which left no sticky residue. He held a piece up for me. I ate it straight off his fingers. He smiled.

It was the best dinner date I'd ever had, perfect in its silence because I found we were communicating without words, connecting on a level even more basic and primal than anything that talking could provide. It was talk with just a few light touches, a couple smiles, and a good giggle. Mordon waited until I was done.

“You are precious to me, Fera.” He trailed his finger along my pinky then back up and down every finger on my hand, giving me goosebumps. “I had a very poor way of displaying this during our argument. When you collapsed, I was tormented thinking that it might be our last conversation together, you weren't in any shape to be standing, forget yelling at me. You were right to counterpoint that I did not know the entire event. I told you I was sorry once before, but I'll say it again. I'm sorry for the way I behaved. Please tell me if you left out of fear of what I'd do to you.” Mordon brought my hand to his lips and pressed a lingering, moist kiss on it.

“I don't remember why I left. I know I was angry.” I reflected. “And hurt. Your opinion matters to me, a lot.”

“I feel the same way.” Mordon turned my hand over and kissed my palm. I cupped his cheek and ran my thumb over his lips. He turned his head and kissed it again. “I wish I had chosen my words better, but I can't undo them now. Will you allow me to say what I meant?”

I nodded, too breathless to say anything, wondering what he was going to do next, needing the touch and reassurance, though I hadn't known how much so until just now. My thumb brushed his brow, and he shut his eyes and leaned into the caress. “Mordon, please tell me,” I whispered.

He kissed my cheek. “I will.”

Our foreheads touched and I grinned. A smile of his own broke over his mouth.

“Where should I start?” Mordon touched the hand still holding his cheek, followed my arm up to my shoulder, then up my neck. He stopped at my ear, toyed with the lobe between thumb and forefinger. “You make me feel relaxed when I'm frustrated and elated when I'm excited.”

I licked my lips. “What about when you're happy?”

“When I'm happy?” Mordon swirled the back of his knuckles gently over my cheek, then stroked beneath my chin. “Best to save that answer for later.”

“How much later?”

Mordon kissed my other cheek. “Much, much later.”

I moaned. He rubbed his nose against mine, brought his lips so close they nearly met, and murmured, “Yes, that's what you do.”

His lips met mine, a light kiss which had the room spinning. I clasped against him, chest heaving, and he kissed me again, firmer this time. I wanted to forget what Father had said to me, wanted to forget that embarrassment and shame which had always plagued me. Now that I'd paid for a crime I hadn't committed, and was still raw from the way those words had hurt, I saw no harm in committing the deed. It wasn't right to scold me, not that it should have even been a thing to scold me over. And it wasn't this one scolding which had me feeling burned, it was all the ones which had come before it, the years of abrasive condescension on the topic, the minutes of one-sided lectures which totaled up into hours. All the good I'd done didn't seem to matter in light of my infractions. I needed the comfort Mordon could provide, and I wanted all I could get. Nothing else mattered, nothing at all. I just wanted to feel, I was so sensitive.

Our bodies pressed flush against one another, and soon Mordon alternated kisses between my lips and down my chin. When I tilted my head back, he left a trail of light kisses down my throat before reclaiming my mouth again. His hands left my face, slid down my sides, and rested on the small of my back. I closed my eyes and leaned back, enjoying his lips and tongue. I gasped when he used his teeth, a startling burst of heat which made me sink my nails into his skin and growl.