Page 10 of Wooing the Wiccan (Elf Magic #1)

CHAPTER TEN

Raeulfr

I watch eagerly as Jared lays out the tools for his ritual.

His circle is beautiful, strong and thrumming with the essence of the life force, perfectly formed.

This is clearly something he’s done many times, but it’s not just that.

The life force has a fondness for him. It’s not rare for that to happen, but not common either.

My experience is that those people are usually good ones.

As if to confirm my thoughts, the life force wraps itself around me in a happy little dance.

It’s been a part of my life like this for so long that I honestly don’t know what I’ll do when the time comes for it to move on to the next king or queen…

although there are a lot of possibilities, things that my position has held me back from.

My eyes linger on Jared. Things like relationships.

ásta and I had been together for more than two thousand years, and married half that, when I was invested as king.

It was a surprise to us both, but she rallied and was my helpmeet in every way for thousands of years of leading the elves. Until she wasn’t.

Since then, things haven’t aligned to give me that kind of love again. Perhaps I’m being presumptuous to think?—

The life force surrounds me again with a distinct sensation of disagreement, and I tamp down the excitement that results. The future will work itself out—for now, I’ll focus on the present and the delightful man before me, who’s asked me to observe a very personal ritual.

Jared draws on the life force and gracefully lights both candles and then a short stick of incense, his control of the flame perfect.

He places a pear, three dates, and two dried figs in a shallow bowl, then bows his head and breathes steadily, purposefully, as one would in meditation.

He’s centering himself, and I follow his lead and do the same.

One can never have too much of a connection with nature and the world that surrounds us.

I let my breathing fall into an even rhythm, tuning in to the sounds of the winter night around me, the soft sensation of Marge’s fur beneath my fingers.

Even the cold air that nips at my cheeks and seeps inside my coat is another link to the energy that makes up existence.

Power, both my own innate source and that of the life force, sings around me, through me, but I let it flow without disturbance, merely enjoying its presence and the life it represents.

A few minutes later, Jared begins to speak softly. He’s quiet enough that he likely believes I can’t hear him, but in the still of the evening and with my better-than-human hearing, every word is as clear as if he were right beside me.

“In the dark of the time between,

I beseech thee, blessed goddess,

bring forth new light and new beginnings.

May the waxing strength of your moon

inform the growth of new skills and new love.”

A breath catches in my throat, though thankfully he doesn’t seem to hear it.

I was right to come tonight. I was right to decide that I’d give things a chance between us.

I was right. Surely this, plus the life force’s fondness for Jared, are signs that he would accept who I am and the secrets I’m currently keeping from him?

I’ll have to wait to find out. Even I know it would be foolhardy to disclose everything now. This first rush of attraction and lust may fade.

Jared sits meditatively for a few more minutes, then murmurs thanks to his goddess and god. His eyes narrow in concentration, drawing on the life force. A moment later, both candles go out.

A delighted grin spreads across my face. I helped him learn that! And he’s been practicing, to be able to coordinate in two directions without a spell or anything.

He lifts his hand and gestures in a counterclockwise direction, and the circle dissipates, the energy absorbed back into nature. I stand, and Marge must decide she’s had enough of me, because she stretches and jumps down from my arms, heading to the house.

Jared turns his head toward me. “I hope you weren’t too bored,” he says tentatively, and I shake my head.

“I wasn’t bored at all. Aside from the pleasure of watching you use magic so competently and elegantly, I found the ritual itself fascinating. Is it okay for me to come there? I have some questions.”

His face lights up, though he keeps his smile small. “Of course. Or we can go inside—it’s always warmer in the circle, but you’ve been sitting in the cold.”

I step inside the sage border and kneel on the clover beside him.

“Let’s do both. I’d like to know what all these things are for, please, and I can help you put them away while you explain.

If that’s okay,” I add, belatedly realizing there might be a rule about other people touching some of the items.

“It’s fine,” he assures me, “though it’s not really something that needs two people.

I tend to prefer a simple altar, though there are times I feel the need for more ceremony.

This,” he touches a finger to the shallow bowl with the fruit in it, “is my offering to the god and goddess. It’s customary to return it to the earth once the ritual is done.

Some people prefer to bury it, but I think scattering it in the garden meets the same purpose.

” He stands gracefully, lifting the bowl, and disperses the contents under the tree. When he returns, the bowl is set aside.

“The incense is supposed to burn until it’s finished,” he explains, gesturing to the simple metal holder the stick is standing in.

“Which is why for outdoor rituals, I cut the sticks if I think it’s not going to be a long one.

I don’t want to be responsible for an accidental fire or for some curious animal getting burned. ”

“I did wonder why the stick was so short,” I admit, impressed by his forethought. “That’s clever. How much longer do you th—” I stop when the last remnant of the incense goes out, the rising smoke thinning to wisps and then nothing. “Nicely played.”

He chuckles. “Do this enough times, and you get to be an expert. I figured I’d need about thirty minutes, and I was right.”

I reach out and let my hand hover over the small piece of bamboo remaining in the holder. “May I?”

“Yeah, sure. The stick will be hot, though, so don’t touch it. I’ll run it in water before I recycle it.”

He’s so thoughtful. Carefully, I lift the holder off his altar and place it beside the bowl. “What are the crystals for?”

Jared names each one as he picks it up. “Quartz, moonstone, aventurine, amethyst. All stones that would boost my purpose tonight. I don’t always use crystals in my rituals, but sometimes they help to give me focus.”

That makes sense on several levels—crystals come from the earth, and since, unlike plants, they don’t die when cut from their source, they retain a connection. I don’t say that, though. It would be too easy to accidentally give too much away.

“That just leaves the candles and the cloth.”

“Heh, the cloth isn’t important. I use it because I like it.

But the candles represent the god,” he points to the one on the right, then to the left and adds, “and the goddess. Or not represents them, exactly, but pays tribute to them.” He adds them to the other items on the grass, then whisks away the cloth.

“And as you can see, my altar when I’m out here is this very handy container that doubles as storage. ”

“Practical,” I agree, helping as he begins packing things inside the tub. “I like that you can set your altar up anywhere. That seems far more sensible than those religions that require worship to take place in limited spaces.”

“I’ve always liked it,” he admits. “The god and goddess—the world, nature, everything—are all around us. Why should our reverence for them be restricted?”

I clamber to my feet and bend to pick up the container. “May I carry this for you?”

He smiles shyly as he rises also. “Thank you. That’s kind.”

We turn toward the house, and I ask, “You said earlier that the container is your altar when you’re out here. Do you have a different one inside?”

He nods, leading the way past the healthy herb beds. He has an excellent late-winter crop, and I hope he’ll invite me over to garden with him one day.

And that I can return the invitation. My rooftop garden might not be the one I had to leave behind on my homeworld, but it’s still important to me.

“Yes, I have a permanent altar in the second bedroom. Well, semi-permanent. It’s a beautiful hand-crafted wood and resin tray.

It lives on top of my bookcase, and I move it around when I want to use it.

I thought about buying a table and doing something actually permanent, but that would be harder to move around the house, and sometimes I want to use different rooms.” He holds the door open for me, and I enter the warm kitchen.

Marge is curled up on the table, watching us with unblinking eyes.

“She likes you,” Jared says, following the direction of my gaze. “That’s a big compliment, because she’s picky.” He takes the container from me and sets it on a sideboard, then goes to wash his hands at the sink.

“How long have you lived together?” I ask, following him to take a turn at the sink. I’m hoping he’ll let me help with dinner.

He laughs. “I love that you phrased it that way, instead of asking when I got her. Margie chose me six years ago. I was working in the front garden, and this tiny kitten comes marching up the front path, straight to the door, and stands there mewing at it like she’s demanding for it to open.

I knew my neighbor’s cat, across the street, had been pregnant, so I figured that’s where she came from and took her back. ”

“And then changed your mind and decided to keep her?” I guess, leaning against the counter as he pulls a covered pot out of the fridge and sets it on the stove.

“Not likely.” He snorts. “It wasn’t that I was against having a pet, but I didn’t have a lot of time back then to devote to one—still don’t, really—and if I did, I would have adopted an older animal from a shelter.

One who was less likely to find a home and already house-trained. A kitten wasn’t on my radar.”

I grin. That’s exactly how many elves feel about their dragon friends.

We love them dearly, but we’re all a bit bewildered about how we happened to end up with someone so high-maintenance and…

catastrophic in our friendship circle. “Yet here she is. Clearly you’re not the one in charge in this house. ”

Shaking his head, he gets a wooden spoon from a drawer and gives whatever is warming up in that pot a stir.

“I definitely am not. The next day, I found her waiting for me on the doorstep when I got home from work. I took her back again, but two days later, she was waiting when I opened the door—and that time she managed to get past me. I found her curled up on the couch, staking her claim on my house.”

“Is that when you gave in?”

“Nope. By the way, I hope vegetable soup is okay for dinner? I have garlic rolls to go with it.”

On cue, my stomach rumbles. “Sounds great to me. Can I help set the table?”

“Sure—I’ll get things out for you. Anyway,” he continues, turning to a cabinet and taking out two glasses, “after the fifth—or maybe sixth—time I took her home, my neighbor suggested it might be time I clued in that I’d been adopted.

I was arguing about it when two of the other kittens from the litter ganged up on Margie.

In retrospect, they were only playing, but I reacted like an overprotective parent watching their kid get beat up, and that was when I realized she and I were meant to be. ”

I finish laying the spoons on the table with the napkins and glasses and take the jug of water he hands me. “That’s the sweetest story I’ve heard in a long while. How did you choose her name? That’s such an important part of the pet process.”

A shadow crosses his face, and I immediately wish I could snatch the question back.

“She’s named after my grandmother, who died when I was a kid,” he says quietly.

“She… well, to be honest, I don’t know for sure how she would have reacted when I came out, but from what I remember of her, she had the best shot of still wanting me around.

Maybe she wouldn’t, but I’ll never know, and I like to pretend she would have accepted me… and everything.”

If it wouldn’t be a horrific misuse of power, I’d ask Caolan to track down Jared’s family and make sure they were suffering in some way for the harm they’ve done to him. But that won’t take his pain away, and, knowing that he lives by the edict “do no harm,” it’s unlikely that he’d appreciate it.

Instead, I cross to stand directly in front of him and lift my hands to cup his cheeks. There’s just a hint of beard grain under my palms, reminding me how very, very long it’s been since I was last with a man. Jared’s eyes search my face, his breath picking up speed just a fraction.

“I bet she would have accepted you,” I promise.

Whether she would have or not, if the dream he created makes him happy, I’ll feed it with every ounce of my own belief.

“She loved you so much, and she would have supported all your choices. Because you’re incredible, and I know she recognized that the way I do. ”

The last word barely has time to leave my lips before his are crashing against them.

He clings to my shoulders, then wraps his arms around me and hauls us against each other, pressed together from mouth to thigh, as close as we can be with our clothes between us.

My lips part under the pressure of his, and the taste of him explodes through me, making me feel, for the first time in so very long, that I’m home.