Page 11

Chapter 11

Tully

I blink, and I’m in warm, strong arms.

A voice is suddenly at my ear and breath drifts over my temple, giving me chills. “You could have just asked for a hug, Witch. No need for the dramatics,” Argos whispers.

The foreign magic at play must have blasted me backward. I shake loose of Argos and find my feet.

“You all right, Tully?” Laini presses a hand to my cheek like I might have a fever.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

Argos lifts my hat from the ground and dusts it off. I rip it from his grip and slam it on my wayward red curls. This is all his fault. Everything was safe in town until he showed up and he is acting like he’s completely innocent.

“Okay,” I say to Argos. “I realize this sounds wild hearing this from me, but I think maybe we should stick to shovels until we figure out what is going on.”

“Maybe you should just put your khymeia in your room so they’re not in the vicinity,” Laini adds.

“But what if you need backup with whatever this?” Argos asks.

I raise an eyebrow. “Back up from you? Let’s not worry about that.”

“I’m keeping the stones,” he says. “I’ll go get some shovels.”

But he doesn’t leave because a few townsfolk appear with what we need. We get down to work. Laini leaves us and the crowd breaks apart. I can only shovel one scoop to Argos’s three, but soon enough we have a large opening in the ground. Our shovels clang against something metal.

I bend and wipe the wet dirt away from the object. Scrolling flowers and skulls made of both bronze and some dark material appear in the muddy earth. Argos joins me in cleaning the dirt from the thing. We uncover a shining surface that reflects our faces back to us.

“A mirror?” Argos tilts his head, and the mirrored image of his wide-set horns reaches from border to border on the strange object. “Is this what’s causing our problems?”

“You are causing problems.”

“Yes, of course. But in addition to my existence, maybe?”

“So you do acknowledge it.”

“Yes. But maybe this is creating problems as well.”

“Maybe.” In reality, the magic zipping off this scary-ass mirror is mind-boggling. I’m not about to tell him how worried I am.

“Do you want me to get it out of there?” Argos rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Muscles and veins show along his forearms. “Eh, did you hear me?”

“I.. What? Yes. Yes, remove it. But slowly and I’m going to stay ready to fight back.”

“It’s going to attack us?” he asks.

“Quite possibly.”

“Fantastic.”

He grips the edges and yanks the mirror free. Clumps of mud and churned earth fall away from the object and the crowd reforms around. Thankfully, they keep their distance. Magic hums loudly from the mirror and makes my skin buzz. It’s not necessarily a terrible feeling, but I don’t adore the fact that it’s powerful and I have no clue what it is.

“Is this stone here in the frame the same as my khymeia?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I think it is.”

“I’ve done some research on this material,” Argos says.

“You have?”

“Aye. It’s midnight adamant.”

A bolt of recognition goes through me. “The stuff they used to make portal stones out of?”

Argos tilts his head and his horn chains jingle lightly. “Uh, I don’t know anything about portal stones.”

I hold out a hand. “Of course you don’t. You weren’t raised to wield magic. Yet another reason you shouldn’t be using any.”

He ignores my comment and begins carrying the mirror in the direction of the pub. “Think Cyrus will be all right with me taking this to my room?”

“He loves an adventure even if he ends up on the wrong end of fate.”

Argos chuckles. “That does sound like him.”

Inside The Gold Coin, a few tables are full of folks eating and drinking. Cyrus is explaining something to his employee behind the bar. He gives us a quick wave and then does a double-take.

“Ooo, what do we have here, magical friends?” Cyrus asks.

I grimace and shrug. “We don’t really know yet, but we will find out.”

Cyrus grins wickedly. “Up in Argos’s room?”

My glare has to be hot on the dragon’s forehead even if he is good with all kinds of heat.“Yes, why do you say it like that, Cyrus?”

“Nothing. Go on ahead. I’m sure you two will learn a lot alone up there together.”

I snarl quietly. “Please stop.”

Cyrus smirks and I raise my wand. He lifts his hands in surrender and I turn away to trail Argos up the stairs to his room.

Argos sets the mirror on his narrow bed, then steps back to wipe his hands on his trousers. The room is small but tidy. He has a gas lamp on his nightstand and a small window that looks out the back of the pub to the river a few streets away. A trunk of folded clothing sits near a desk. The trunk is a fine one with tooled leather, bronze studs, and an engraved plate near the handle. I squint, trying to make out the shapes on the engraving.

“Is that a coat of arms? Where did you get that trunk?”

He purses his lips, and with a foot, shoves the trunk under the desk. “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I’m implying that no one knows why you moved here and where you got those witch-made khymeia. You expect me to just let you waltz into my hometown and charm everyone’s trousers off without knowing a single thing about your background. You could be a murderer. A traitor to the Veiled Kingdoms. A violent sort who left his family in poverty in his last town. When you tell me nothing, I can only assume the worst so that I can be ready when you show your true colors.”

Something dark flashes across his eyes. I’ve hit the mark with at least some part of my tirade.

“Wow,” he says, his tone light but forced. “That’s a big jump. From pretty magical illusions to murder?”

“And once again, you’re avoiding revealing anything about yourself. If that’s not the move of a guilty male, I don’t know what is.”

He acts like I said nothing at all and instead of filling me in, he goes to his desk and removes his precious little notebook from the top drawer. Then he takes a small set of scales from another door in the desk’s side. He sets the book and scales on the desk and takes a minuscule knife from his pocket.

“I’m not about to try to cut you into pieces if you are curious.” He moves toward the mirror.

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t think that.”

“Good. Because I’d definitely use a larger knife for that kind of job.”

“Funny guy.”

The corners of his lips lift in an almost smile as he leans over the mirror. “I’m going to make sure I’m right about this material.”

He picks at the mirror’s frame with his knife and pries a flower free. Dropping it onto one side of the scale, he frowns at it. Next, he adds three bronze weights to the other side of the scale. The dark material is heavier than the weights, so he adds another of the bronze triangles.

“What does this tell us?” I ask.

He opens his notebook and leafs through a few pages very quickly, his gaze darting over his records or whatever he writes in there.

I cross my arms and tap my foot on the floorboards. “What are you looking for?”

“I was going to put one of the khymeia stones on the other side of the scale to take a peek at their weights, but I worry the scale will serve as a conduit and perhaps explode my lovely room here,” Argos says.

“Your body is a conduit.”

He turns and wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment, you dolt.”

He just laughs quietly and then lifts his notebook, pointing to a page. His handwriting is painfully neat. Numbers, letters, arrows, and circles cover the page.

“What in the world am I looking at here?” I ask.

“It likely weighs as much as the khymeia.”

“So maybe you’re right about the mirror being partially made with the same stuff as the stones.”

He nods. “Aye. Let’s do a scratch test.”

“Let’s do a magic test.” With a hip, I bump him away from the bed and face the mirror.

Wand out, I imagine a revelation spell.

His eyes widen. “Aren’t you worried about it exploding?”

“Yes. But I’ll only let a wee fraction of my power out, and I’ll use caution.”

Magic crackles from my forehead, down my dominant arm, into my palm, and out through my wand. Blue and purple sparks dance across the space above Argos’s bed, then pour down onto the mirror.

“What will you learn from this?”

I would be annoyed by his question if he didn’t sound so genuinely curious.

“Power has a signature of sorts so it’s possible I’ll find out the mirror’s origin, its maker. I can also measure its currents to see if its power is affected by mine and if that reaction is constant or varying and if so how wildly.”

He looks positively giddy.

I slide a glance his way. “Does data get you off?”

A laugh punches from his lips. “It does. That and the magical female in front of me.”

“Simmer down, Minotaur. We have work to do. Also, in your wildest dreams, you’ll never have a witch in your bed.”

“I mean, you’re already standing right next to it.” His smirk is strangle-worthy. “That has to count for something.”

I can imagine Argos lying in this bed with his powerful thighs spread and his—I shut that thought down. “Please shut your gob. I’m working.”

“As you wish.” The twinkle in his eye has me wondering if he somehow knows what I was imagining.

The magic snaps and flings itself back at me in a stream of bright red flashes. I duck and the power bangs into the far wall, knocking an unlit candle off Argos’s desk.

Well, this is not what I expected.