Page 5 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

“Fuck, Thelise, when will you learn?” I groan, swinging my legs off the bed.

I’m naked, since that’s how I prefer to sleep, and I don’t bother getting dressed.

When people are well and truly furious, throwing them off their game is often the best course of action.

My nudity will be a shock to them, which will give me a few extra moments to assess the situation and determine whether I should threaten or cajole.

Usually I do both, but I like to vary the order and the details.

When I answer the knock, I take on my best sultry pose, hip cocked, one arm draped along the doorframe. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

There are three men facing me: the young man from the market, an older man in rich clothing who must be his father, and a third man who, judging by his uniform, appears to be a steward or a valet.

The young man is wearing a cloak, and I immediately spot the lump beneath the hood that’s draped over his head.

With a monumental effort, I suppress the smirk that wants to curl the corner of my mouth.

All three men look as shocked by my nakedness as I hoped they would be.

“What in the—this is absolutely—we are here to protest the results of your spell,” stammers the father. “That is to say, the indignity to which you have subjected my son. My god, woman, why have you not covered yourself? Don’t you know who I am?”

“Do you know who I am?” I step forward, graceful, predatory, and cup the man’s bearded jaw with my hand. “I am Thelise, daughter of the Supreme Sorcerer. Be careful how you speak to me. ”

He swallows, fear sparking in his eyes.

The valet steps forward. He’s in his forties, an earnest, intelligent-looking person.

Nice face, creased around the eyes as if he smiles frequently.

I like him. “Lady Sorceress, I beg your indulgence on behalf of this young man, whom I have served since he was a child. Whatever foolishness he may have spoken to you—and yes, he can be foolish—he does not deserve to bear this shame.”

“What shame?” I blink innocently.

“Show her, Arnett,” the valet urges the young man.

“I don’t want to.” Arnett hunches deeper into his cloak.

“For god’s sake—” His father tears off the hood.

A long, soft cock has sprouted from the center of the young man’s hairline. It flops over his forehead, thick and flaccid.

It’s all I can do to restrain my laughter. I force myself to assume an expression of utter confusion. “Fuck me! It’s in the wrong place!”

The young man’s father frowns. “Did you not intend to put it there?”

“On my honor, I did not. How curious! Then again, some of my spells have been known to go terribly wrong. I’m so sorry. I thought your son knew the risks. He seemed to have heard of me, so I thought he would know that I’m not very good at magic.”

The father turns to Arnett. “How much did you know about this woman’s skills, or lack thereof?”

The young man has kept his head bent since they arrived, but he’s looking up now—looking at me, in my naked state. His cheeks flush, and as the blood rises to them, it rises to the cock as well. The whole thing stiffens obscenely, like the fleshy horn of a lecherous unicorn.

“I didn’t realize,” he mutters.

“You paid her without asking enough questions. Of course you did. You’re a good-for-nothing spendthrift,” snarls his father. Then he glares at me. “As for you, sorceress, you’re no longer welcome in this town.”

He’s within his rights to ask me to leave.

I’ve been through this sort of encounter before.

Whenever I come to a new area, inevitably I’m recognized by someone and asked to perform magic, especially if it’s been a long time since my last fuck-up.

People’s memories are pathetically short.

I have to give them a fresh example of my supposed incompetence so they’ll leave me alone until some other circumstance forces me to move on, or until I get bored of the area.

I let my eyes turn tragic and liquid while my lip trembles.

With earnest supplication, I look into the father’s eyes.

“Please, my lord,” I beg, even though I have no idea what his official rank is.

“Please let me stay here. I know I’m not a very good enchantress.

I hoped I could achieve a good result for your son, but as usual, my magic failed me.

” My lip wobbles more, and tears slip from my eyes.

“You can’t imagine how dreadful it is to be so awful at magic, especially when my father excels at it. ”

The father clears his throat and glances at the valet. “Well… we can’t have you mucking about with magic in our town.”

“I swear I won’t. No more spells, I promise. And please allow me to accompany your son to market today and purchase several fine hats that will help him cover up that… protuberance.”

“Cover it up?” exclaims Arnett. “No, no, I can’t live with this! You must remove it!”

“My son has a legacy to live up to,” adds the father. “How is he supposed to fulfill his duties and bring honor to the family name when that thing is dangling over his brow? It must be removed.”

“Oh dear… I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that. If I try, it could make things worse. You might end up with two of them.”

“Fuck,” Arnett says faintly .

“If this is some sort of scheme to get more money from us—” the father begins.

“No, I assure you it isn’t. I simply can’t reverse it—not safely, anyway.”

The valet speaks up. “Surely there’s something that can be done.”

“There’s a chance it will go away on its own, after a while.” I smile hopefully at him. “Some of the things I create just poof ! Vanish.”

“And you didn’t tell me this yesterday?” Arnett’s voice trembles with anger. “You didn’t warn me what a useless bitch you were?”

All the feigned regret disappears from my face, as all the levity and mercy drains from my heart. Only cold anger is left, and it must show in my expression, because the valet grips Arnett’s arm, and the father takes a step back.

I can see them making calculations, deciding that a skilled enchantress is dangerous enough, but an enraged one whose magic can go horribly, unexpectedly wrong is far worse.

“You’re welcome to stay here, if you abide by the terms of our agreement,” says the father nervously, his tone just shy of obsequious. “The hats are a wonderful idea, aren’t they, son?”

When Arnett doesn’t reply, his father jabs him with an elbow.

“Yes, a wonderful idea,” Arnett says flatly. “Forgive my outburst, enchantress.”

“Of course.” I give him a benevolent smile. “I’ll forgive your insolence, you forgive my incompetence, and we’ll all get along marvelously, don’t you think?”

“Indeed.” The father seems desperately eager to get away. “Son, you’ll accompany the enchantress to market this afternoon so you can choose the hats.”

Hours of shopping with the sulky lordling isn’t my idea of a good time, so I hasten to say, “Or I could select the hats myself and have them delivered, if Arnett isn’t quite ready to walk around town with his new appendage.”

“Quite right. Good plan. Farewell then.” The father turns and strides quickly toward the carriage that waits at the end of the path.

“Good day to you,” says Arnett through clenched teeth, and he heads for the carriage as well.

The valet hesitates, looking me straight in the eyes. “I crave your mercy, Lady Thelise,” he says quietly. “The boy is like my own son.”

He knows or suspects that I can mitigate this issue, if not undo it entirely. I can see it in his eyes.

“Like your own son, eh?” I raise a brow. “I must say, I don’t think much of your handiwork raising him.”

His expression turns downcast. “I did what I could. My influence is limited. I can only hope that once he gains a bit more maturity, he will begin to heed some of the precepts I have tried to instill in him.”

Against my better judgment, I start to fucking pity both him and the young man. Ugh. How do I still feel mercy for these people? I must work on being more callous.

I purse my lips thoughtfully. “I do have another hair belonging to Arnett. I will do you this favor and lay a second spell over the first. When Arnett learns to value a woman’s pleasure above his own, and brings her to climax first using what he currently possesses, then the cock on his head will disappear.

He will have only the miniscule one he was born with.

Hopefully by then he will have learned to appreciate it. Good day.”

I close the door before the valet can reply.

As soon as I hear their carriage rolling away, I head to the stable and take my trunk off the cart.

“Lucky girl, you get to enjoy this place a little longer,” I tell Vedra. She only chuffs at me .

When I’ve finished unpacking, I lead Vedra out to the fenced pasture, beyond which lies a huge old stable that apparently used to house many horses.

It has fallen into disrepair, and it’s much too far from the cottage to use regularly, so I don’t walk that way often.

The first time I went inside, shortly after I rented the place, I discovered that all the stalls had been gutted.

Only the necessary structural beams were left, along with a scattering of dusty straw across the bare floor.

Its desolation gave me an idea for its use, and now it serves as a point of retreat, a backup plan, a storage area for some extra magical supplies, and a staging location in case any unsavory characters decide to come after me.

Over the years I’ve made my share of enemies, some of whom would love to have their revenge.

In addition, I’ve encountered the emissaries of two different foreign lords who weren’t put off by my history of magical malpractice and thought I could still be of use to them, whether I came along willingly or not.

They regretted their choices deeply when I was done with them.

On the off chance any such people approach me again, I’ve laid enchantments on the larger barn, spells that can be activated quickly to protect me or to entrap someone else, depending on my needs.

With Vedra put out to pasture, I head back into the cottage to complete the additional layer of spellwork for young Arnett. It’s a good resolution for everyone. Rather clever of me, really.

“Well done, Thelise,” I congratulate myself aloud. “Teaching an asshole a lesson, showing mercy, and securing your place in this town for a while—very well done.”

My words fall flat in the quiet of the house. There’s no one whom I can tell about the incident, no one to share my laughter. No one to rebuke me or to praise me.

Most days, I can handle being alone. I prefer it, except for visits from a few select men whom I invite from time to time. But they’re not the kind of companions with whom I can share any of my inner thoughts or secrets.

Now and then, an ache begins deep in my chest, widening until it’s a vast chasm, in the center of which is a festering injury—the absence of Katlee.

I miss her. I miss us, the way we used to perceive each other.

When people looked at her, they only saw her diminutive arms. They viewed her as an oddity to be exclaimed over, avoided, or pitied.

They didn’t really see her . Our situations weren’t the same, nor could I ever truly understand the challenges of her life, but we had one thing in common—that we didn’t see each other the way other people saw us.

To me, she was always much more than her physical difference. And to her, I was more than my magic.

Until I wasn’t.