The Golden Apple (11 page)

Again, Rane said nothing, and Kayla shifted uncomfortably. Saw the village woodsman do the same.

“Ah, well. You never were very talkative. I like that about you.” Jisuel slipped a foot into a stirrup and swung himself up into the saddle. “I really must be off.”

“Good to see you again, sir.” The woodsman touched his forehead in an automatic gesture of fealty.

“Sorry about bringing that bit of excitement into your lives.” Jisuel jerked his head at the troll. “Good thing Mr. De’Villier was around with his trusty knife and his death wish.” There was an edge of contempt, a sneer, in his tone.

Rage cut Kayla off from the outside world. She was instantly dumb and blind.

She drew in a long, deep breath. “Don’t you dare.” Her voice shook as she spoke, and all three men turned surprised faces her way. “Apologize.” She pointed a finger at Jisuel, amazed that it was rock-steady. “Apologize to Rane, now. To dismiss what he did as a death wish—” She had to swallow, to collect herself.

“You apologize or I will make you.”

To her disbelief, Jisuel laughed, and her anger sparked, wild, at the edges of her control. The laughter died in his eyes, his gaze flicking to her fingers a moment. “I do apologize. I spoke flippantly, and it was disrespectful.”

In a single, smooth move, he leapt from the horse and bowed deep and low to Rane. “You have quite a defender, De’Villier. Will you not both be my guests tonight? The inn in this village is no longer in use.”

Kayla shuddered, her body releasing the tension of the last few moments. She felt…she
could
have made Jisuel apologize. She’d felt powerful. She met Rane’s gaze over Jisuel’s bowed head, and the shock in his blue eyes, the surprise, made her stomach lurch uncomfortably.

“I would like to buy supplies here first.” Rane looked across at the woodsman, and he gave a quick nod. “We can join you later.”

Jisuel straightened. “’Til later, then.” He set his foot in the stirrup. “Gert will tell you the way.”

He flung himself easily into his saddle, and cantered out of the village, the forest swallowing horse and rider with one great gulp.

“Where does Jisuel live?” Rane stared at the point where Jisuel had disappeared.

“Never been there myself but you follow the path north east a way.” Gert turned back to the troll, and Kayla’s eyes began to water as the stink of it filled her nostrils. “What are we going to do with this?”

“Jisuel will get rid of it.” Rane crouched and cleaned his blade on a clump of grass.

Kayla looked at the massive body. “Can he?”

Rane met her disbelieving look. “Yes.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if he could.” Gert swung his axe up onto his shoulder. “You want to buy some supplies, you said? Folks’ll be pleased to get a bit of coin. We mostly trade in kind out here.”

The woodsman started ahead of them, back to the cottages, and Kayla fell into step with Rane.

“Who is Jisuel?”

“Not someone to threaten. Not on my behalf.” He sounded bemused, perplexed.

She recalled the look on his face when Jisuel had apologized. It had not been grateful. “I’m sorry if I’ve made trouble between you and your client.”

He stopped, reached out a hand and grabbed her shoulder, swinging her to face him. “Don’t be.” He ran a hand through his hair. “No one has ever…” He stepped back, exasperated. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

She had no answer for him. She didn’t know what to make of herself, either.

“You didn’t realize, did you?”

She frowned. “Realize what?”

“When you told Jisuel to apologize or you would make him, there were wild magic sparks at your fingertips.”

Chapter Fifteen

K
ayla must have some affinity to wild magic. Or it had done something to her, changed her in some way. The way it had been drawn to her, the sparkles of it on her fingertips, it made Rane sick with worry.

But even more worrying was that every step they took down the path toward Jisuel’s home lifted the enchantment a little more. In spite of the heavy packs over his shoulders, Rane felt giddy with the lightness of it.

The creeping fear that Jisuel’s house would be at the center of the forest, that the jewel they were to steal was his, slowed his steps.

Kayla, not knowing what Jisuel was, not understanding the implications, bounced eagerly down the path. She’d pulled far ahead of him already, singing under her breath.

“Kayla. Wait.”

She must have heard the edge in his voice, because she stopped immediately, waiting for him to join her under a large tree.

“You feel it lifting, too?” She laughed. The first time he’d heard her laugh since the night he’d made love to her.

He cursed inwardly. That was not a memory to dredge up now. “I feel it. And it worries me.”

She stilled. “Why?”

He found himself uncomfortably close to her, suddenly, on the narrow path. Found the stillness in her was a mirror of the forest.

They were utterly alone.

He fixed his eyes on the flushed skin at her collar-bone, just visible through her cotton shirt.

“We’re nearing the end. And we are nearing Jisuel. That can mean only one thing.”

“Jisuel is Ylana?” Kayla’s voice was lower, suddenly hushed.

“Or Eric lied to us. Made Ylana up.”

“Why would he do that?” She was whispering.

Rane hardly heard her, there was a buzz in his ears, and his body leaned forward, the packs on his shoulders dropping to his feet.

He bent his head, and as his lips touched her neck, the world stopped tipping. As long as he had her in his arms, had his hands and his mouth on her, the dizziness was gone.

“What is happening?” She spoke breathlessly, desire thick in her voice as he pressed her back into the tree.

“I have stopped trying to leave you alone.”

She made a sound in her throat, a groan. “And I have stopped letting you.”

He wondered why he’d let go of his control now, chosen this moment to forget the reasons he shouldn’t do this. Why she had done the same. The question niggled at him, trying to douse some of his excitement, and he pushed it away, his fingers fumbling at the ties at Kayla’s throat.

He opened her shirt, and gasped at the half-corset that held her breasts high and firm. His knees buckled and he needed the tree at her back to keep upright.

“What delightful thing is this?” He dipped his head lower, ran his tongue along the line where stiff cotton met soft skin.

Her breath hitched. “I could hardly wear nothing.”

Well, she was a princess, after all. Something he tried to forget. Something that somehow made no difference at the moment.

He lifted her, his fingers curling around the top of her thighs encased in their blue cotton trousers, bringing her knees up to cage his hips.

Her breath came in gasps, her head back against the tree.

The world had slipped away, and there was nothing for him but the sound of her breathing, the heat of her, the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips.

She lifted half-closed eyes, languid and urgent at the same time, and then, like a splash of cold water, she blinked. Her gaze fixed on something beyond his shoulder, and with a rising sense of dread, Rane turned to look.

Wild magic spun, silent, ominous, just four feet behind them.

Holding Kayla steady, Rane set her back on her feet and stepped away from her. He turned, blocking her body with his own.

Waited.

He liked to
do
. To act, not react. But he could do nothing. Wild magic was not something he could control.

Behind him, Kayla shifted, then stepped out.

The magic reared up, rising like a wave hitting a rock, and rained over her, covering her in shimmering green and purple. She gave a cry, looked across at him, her eyes wide, and he reached out to grab her hand.

A shock, the pain bone-deep, snapped at him, throwing his hand up and back, and he saw part of the magic rise, as if to strike him again, like a snake.

He shoved the pain aside, ripped his knife from its sheath and stood, muscles bunched, teeth clenched. Ready for battle.

Helpless.

This could not be happening again. It could not take another from him.

A cry of frustration and fear tore from his throat.

Kayla was still, no longer looking at him but straight ahead, encased in rippling, transparent light. He tightened his grip on his knife, thinking to somehow shave the top layer of magic off, but as the thought formed in his mind, the glow thinned.

The magic fell from her and pooled at her feet, coalesced and rose up, a spinning sphere once more. It darted behind a tree and was gone.

Rane closed his eyes. He wanted to put off the moment of looking at her while he gathered his strength. Seeing her encased in wild magic had brought back the worst memory of his life, and he had to find the core of steel within to get him through whatever came next.

“What did you think it was doing to me?”

Her hand slid down his arm, tentative, and he flinched in surprise.

He snapped opened his eyes, and she was staring at him, biting her bottom lip. Perfect. Normal. Unchanged.

“I thought…” he had to clear his throat. “I thought it was transforming you into…”

He thought again of the way it coated her, like slime, and shuddered.

“Into what?”

“The same thing as my father.”

* * *

She had felt something. A tug of…warmth, of interest. A feeling of belonging, and friendliness.

It worried her more than if she’d felt nothing, or pain. Why cover every inch of her body? What had the wild magic done to her?

Rane didn’t help. He kept looking at her as if expecting her to grow another head or turn to stone, and irritation and fear made her hands jerky and her step clipped.

“What happened to your father?” She asked the question with a snap in her voice, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

“He’s a piece of wood.”

She fell, hard and badly, landing on her side and scraping her shoulder, her foot still caught and twisted in the root that tripped her.

Rane crouched beside her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, wincing as she levered herself up. Bruised, scraped, but otherwise, unharmed.

“Wild magic turned your father to wood?”

He gave her an unreadable look. “We were working in the forest, my father, brother and I. My father cried out and we ran to him just as wild magic rolled right at him, through him. When it disappeared he was a wooden statue of himself. Well…” He hesitated. “Not a statue, really.”

“What then?” She felt sick.

“A tree. It’s been three years, and he’s begun to grow leaves in summer, on his head and along his arms and legs, like hair and clothing.” He reached out for the packs she dropped, and she saw his hands were shaking. “It would be better if he were a carving. The way things are, I have the feeling he’s still alive in there. Like that woman in the clearing. He might know what has happened to him. Perhaps he sees us when we visit him. Like her, he could be mad.”

“Is that when you and Soren started hunting wild magic?”

He nodded. “At first, we thought to find it, beg it to change him back. But we realized soon enough it never would. It seemed completely uninterested in us. Never touched us. Never harmed us. And by following it, we found the things it created and left in its wake. We’d stopped chopping wood, and we’d both left Jasper’s employ the year before. We needed to eat, so we started selling what we found.”

She thought of her anger at him the night she’d gone back to the woman in the clearing, and felt the heat of shame on her cheeks. “What happened next?”

“I was away, selling what we’d found—to Jisuel—and Soren discovered how wild magic is formed. He’d always said it must be to do with Nuen, Jasper’s sorcerer brother, and he started watching Nuen’s rooms at night, sneaking into Jasper’s stronghold. He discovered wild magic was created in the aftermath of wielding massive power.”

“He tried to stop Nuen? And Jasper caught him?” She’d met Jasper. Knew he would not take interference in his affairs well.

Rane laughed. “Not that time. Not the time after that. Soren became obsessed with making Nuen and Jasper pay for what they were doing. We only worked out later that all the powerful sorcerers were doing the same thing. Banishing the wild magic they’d created to the Great Forest.”

“So it may not have been Nuen’s fault?”

“It didn’t matter to Soren. Or to me.” He shrugged. “I never had the urge to bring Jasper down, though. I was more interested in reversing the damage. Finding a way to free my father from his enchantment by finding out everything I could about wild magic and how it worked.”

“And Jasper caught Soren eventually.” She got up on her knees, and Rane rose up, offered her his hand.

“He caught him the night Soren set fire to Nuen’s tower. Destroyed all his work.” He pulled her to her feet and did not release her hand. “Jasper wants the golden apple badly enough to let Soren go because I think Nuen was hurt in Soren’s attack. He must know the apple will heal whoever touches it, as it healed you when you fell from the glass mountain.”