Page 133 of Spark of Sorcery

“I did?” I say, surprised.

“Oh yeah,” she says, “most grown men are begging me to stop after just a few minutes.”

The nurses titter and they gather up their equipment and head to the door.

“We’ll be back in another couple of hours to check on you. If you need anything in the meantime, just ring the buzzer.”

“Thank you,” I say. I hesitate. There’s something else I want to ask the doctor, but I’m not sure if I’m brave enough.

She’s almost through the door, following the nurses, when I make up my mind that I am. “Doctor?”

“Yes?” she says.

“Could I … could I talk to you alone for a moment?”

She shuts the door behind her and walks back over to the bed. “How can I help?” she asks.

“Does doctor–patient confidentiality apply in this clinic?” I bet it does for the shadow weavers but do the same rules apply to me?

“Of course.” She eyes me. “If you are at all concerned you may have been pregnant–”

“Pregnant?!” I screech. “No!”

“We ran a test just to make sure. It’s surprisingly common.”

“That … that wasn’t it.” I shake my head. “We use protection.” My cheeks sizzle.

She nods. “We can give you the shot if you’re interested. It’s more reliable.”

“Thank you.” Maybe that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. “That would be good. But that wasn’t what I wanted to ask you about … although I guess it is sort of related.”

She looks at me with puzzlement. “Are you worried about sexually transmitted diseases, because we checked for those too.”

“Good to know,” I say, with a half-smile. “Can you … do you know much about fated mates? I mean, scientifically or medically.”

The book the library threw at me (literally) had a lot of information, but most of it read like myth and legend. There was nothing scientific about it.

She stares at me and then her eyes drift to the door. I don’t know if she suspects I’m talking about me and the Princes – me, the Princes and the professor. But I bet if she did suspect that, she’d dismiss it pretty quickly. Then again, it would account for the fact they’re all lurking about the hospital.

“It isn’t my area of expertise, but I do know a little. What would you like to know?”

“If there’s any truth in it. If it’s all just mumbo jumbo.”

“No more than any other type of magic,” she says.

“It just sounds so incredible.”

“I’ve brought patients back to life who were on the brink of death – including, Miss Storm, you. A lot of magic is incredible.”

“But how does it–”

“Work?” She slides her hands into the pockets of her white coat and considers my question. “It is hard to explain when you aren’t a shadow weaver yourself.” She clicks her tongue, searching for a way of explaining. “The magic that exists in our veins is a part of us, is ours, but it also has amind of its own.” She scoffs. “That may sound ridiculous to someone who can’t wield magic.”

“It doesn’t,” I say, thinking of the way Thorne struggles to control his magic.

“I don’t have a fated mate, but the way I’ve heard it explained is that sometimes our magic meets its match. Magic to which it has a connection.” She jingles something in her pocket. “Of course, there are theories that all magic originated from one place – that it was split and given to shadow weavers. That each time a shadow weaver is born that magic is split a bit more. It’s why some people believe our magic is weakening over time. And that with the phenomena of fated mates – it’s just the magic recombining.”

“Weakening?” I say. I’ve never heard that before.