Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) (6 page)

Disguising us to look like the surrounding foliage, I remembered the way that Lyall's late partner had looked as she flitted through the woods like a shadow chasing tree leaves. I made an illusion just like that some thirty or so feet away. The husks screamed shrilly and clenched their roosts. I made it happen again, even farther. And again.

When I opened my eyes again, they were just gone, as though the wind had caught them and blown them away.

Lyall was several feet from where I stood when he turned to face me.

“I'm going hunting,” he said.

Then he, too, was gone.

With the spell over, I clenched my fists tight, drained.

The forest had known that it would happen. It was alive, sentient. I felt it there at the edge of my mind now, just a presence. Something waiting and watching. But what was it waiting for? It wouldn't say. As I let my mind go, I knew that I was signing my fate over to the whim of the Verdant Wildwoods.

“
Fera!” the voice was distant, but I felt a jerk on my arms. “Fera!”

The voice was closer this time, and I focused on it, the falling sensation abandoning me as though it were a dream I was waking up from. I gasped, my eyes springing open to see the leaves of a fern waving in front of me, too close to focus on it.

“
Feraline!” Mordon shook me, jarring my head against my shoulders.

I winced, blinked, and stared at him. My shoulders were in his lap, my feet soaking in a creek bed, and all about us were ferns and moss that coated every inch of exposed ground. Focusing on Mordon, I took one shaking breath after another, noticing that my eyes had been watering. I pulled myself into a sitting position, wiped my eyes on my shirt.

“
What was that?” I asked. Had that been as bad or worse than when my compass trinket had failed?

“
A defense mechanism. Or a test. It's hard to be sure,” Mordon said, his hands not leaving my shoulders. I leaned against him, cradled my head, and let out a groan.

“
What now?” I asked.

He rubbed my shoulder. “It doesn't get much better from here.”

“
How long did you spend in the Wildwoods last time?”

“
A day, a week, an hour. It's difficult to tell unless someone outside is timing you, but even so, there's a distortion in effect. I came in search of a boy who was lost in the edge of the woods, and I found him as a young man. He agreed to go with me back to his parents. Not certain what he did after that,” Mordon said, his fingers finding and working on a knot in my muscle.

I gasped in pain, then wondered aloud, “What do we do now? Where do we go? I don't see any trails.”

“
The Wildwoods don't have roads.”

Shaking my head, I said, “No, I mean there aren't any game trails. Is there nothing living on the ground here?”

Mordon was too quiet in response. I looked over my shoulder at him, and he gave me a tight smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. “If that is what you see, it is more than I do.”

“
What do you mean?”

My fingers brushed his face and he jerked, turning and squinting his eyes as though he were trying to see what had touched him. “It's me,” I said, and laid my hand on his arm firmly. He reached up and took hold, patting down my arm until he came to my shoulder, then to my neck. A finger brushed my lips as I spoke again, “What do you see?”

“
It's dark. Darker than night. I see well in low light, so this is disconcerting. But if you see things, know that it may not be as you think it is.”

“
I will mind that,” I said, feeling my trousers and shoes and finding that they were soaked through, so perhaps the creek I was in was real. “We can't stay here.”

A slow nod from Mordon. He was unwilling to let me go, so I did not press him to release my shoulder.

“
We can't wander, either.”

We were in a place with no orientation, just a nudging feeling I got that we needed to move. It could be paranoia from a spell. Nothing was certain here, and what Mordon had been trying to tell me before sank in: the rules that applied everywhere else did not apply here, and if anyone had a hunch about what the rules here were, it would be me. I swallowed hard, and stood, helping Mordon up.

If there was one thing we could not rely on, it was our sight. Maybe mine was fine, maybe it wasn't. I put one foot into the muddy bank, and guided Mordon with me. “Pretty sure this is a stream. We'll follow it downhill, and hope it goes somewhere.”

Mordon shrugged, and held on to my elbow. “Sounds like a better plan than trying to walk in a straight line.”

Unwilling to fully trust my sight, I sent my magic in front of us, and while what I saw proved to be fairly accurate, there were times that an illusion covered up a pitfall or a large boulder.

After a quick experiment with my trinkets, I found that none of them worked. While disappointing, it was a relief that they had not been changed by my bringing them here.

By the time we stopped again, the sky had darkened and crickets chirped in the foliage nearby our makeshift camp. Like Barnes said, it did seem that the trees had eyes and were watching us, but I never saw any literal sign of this being the case. Still, I shivered. Mordon had a fire crackling at his fingertips, but wet wood made it a smoke signal rather than a source of heat. The feel of eyes on my back persisted, and I had no doubt Lyall would find us when he was ready.

The husks hadn't bothered us today, but I sensed their presence. Not nearby, but not far away, either. While we huddled close to the fire for relief from biting insects, namely mosquitoes and smaller bugs, I wondered what I could do for the husks. What would release them. What caused them. And if I was intended to do something for them.

All day Mordon and I scarcely let go of one another for fear of being parted by way of the Wildwoods, though if it wanted us to separate it would find a way to do it. That wasn't a comforting thought, nor was it comfortable to have such an empty stomach. We had stopped at a berry bush at about midday, but that had not been nearly enough to satisfy me for long. Mordon lasted better, and was less cranky.

Mordon's body was suffocatingly hot, but I didn't want to put a gap between us.

“Rough day,” Mordon said.

“Yeah.”

His body pressed against mine a little firmer. “Can you sleep?”

“Not a chance.”

Mordon's rough fingers moved a strand of hair off my neck, then he kissed me below the lobe of my ear. Nerves tingling, I let out a slow breath. This explains the questions. I was surprised by how quickly I adjusted to the new topic. He kissed me again, and I closed my eyes.

It felt a little like electric shocks searing my skin with every press of his lips. It was very … intense. Excitement stirred through my stomach, I tried to decide if I liked the sensation or not. How far did he intend to go tonight? I couldn't imagine he had energy for anything besides a good-night kiss. His lips were chapped.

I could feel the warmth of his mouth and the abrasion of stubble which I couldn't see. My heart couldn't pick a pace, one beat stopped, the next in rapid-fire succession of several beats. It was all so much, the heat of his body, the pressure of an arm around my side, the musky scent of him, all overpowering and overwhelming, too much. Not enough.

I wanted his hands to be all over me, skin against skin, to be overwhelmed by his heat and pressure and scent and body. The thought made me dizzy and made my chest feel constricted, but a part of me also recoiled from it. Saying,
Hold on, just a minute here, think about this.
But I wanted the voice to shut up, we were just kissing.

He nuzzled my jaw, then rubbed his stubble across the tender skin of my throat; and I groaned and tipped my head against his shoulder, giving him permission to continue. Teeth nipped my flesh.

Don't be easy
, the little voice hissed.

We're engaged
, I wanted to argue back at the voice.

For now.

His mouth was on mine, and I kissed him back. The woods drifted out of my attention and all that mattered was this, the way the line dividing him from me blurred until we formed a single entity. Then I was gasping for air I couldn't get enough of and he was tracing a slow path down my throat. His hand slid about my waist, a thumb touching my bare belly, and I felt warmth spread down my spine. My mind dimmed, shutting out any thoughts of right or wrong.

“You smell wonderful like this,” he said. His words across my flesh sent thrills down my back. I arched into him.

My lips felt clumsy and my voice hardly worked when I asked,“Like what?”

Mordon took a deep inhalation which made my cheeks glow. “Tree sap, earth, open air, sweat, life.” He nibbled on my jawbone. “Arousal.”

He could smell that? The comment made me keenly aware of our position, how we weren't
just kissing
.
What was I doing? I flushed scarlet and hid my face in my arms. Mordon's chuckle washed over me.

“Someone's feeling shy. Here I was anticipating being taunted and toyed with, but I'm the one with the honors.” He resumed weaving kisses across my neck, dipping down to my neckline, eliciting pure forbidden thrill.

“Mordon.”

He looked up, his eyes merry. “Oh, no, I'm enjoying this. You are stunning with rosy cheeks. If I'd known it was this easy to fluster you…”

His teasing wasn't helping. It was bad enough having to shut out the nagging voice in the back of my conscience. I crossed my arms, feeling embarrassed and shocked at what I'd been willing to let him do. “Stop, not tonight.”

He propped himself up onto one elbow, smiling. “Are you serious or playing?”

I sighed. Don't make me explain, I wanted to say, but didn't have the guts to voice. And … I did fear upsetting him, I didn't want to cause an argument. Instead, he looked both intrigued and resigned.

Mordon squeezed my hand. “Not tonight.”

Was there a bit of disappointment in his tone, or was that my imagination? My throat felt tense. “It's just been such a busy day. I'm feeling strained.”

“I could help with that,” he said, his voice husky, an invitation should I change my mind. I didn't answer him. He wrapped a hand around my waist and drew me into him. “You're so calm and composed through everything. I admire you, and I was thinking of the things I would love doing with you.”

My heart—and resolve—was melting, and he knew it. I said, half-charmed, half-accusing, “You were thinking of crossing a few new things off your to-do list.”

He kissed me lightly, softly, on the lips. “I did have the thought, yes, if you were up for it. But prolonged teasing is a very heady thing to enjoy.” I felt him smile against the skin of my throat. “And it is fun to toe the limits a little.”

The tension in my stomach eased, and his words sent a fresh heat through me. “Is it now?”

“Mmm-hmm. I'm never sure what's 'yes' and what's 'no' on you, so I listen to the speed of your breathing, notice if you're pushing into my touch or pulling away. There was a little of both earlier, but now …”

I kissed him deeper, a kiss which turned my blood ablaze and made me want him to be bolder with his hands. When our lips came apart, I said in a breathy voice which I didn't recognize, “You could ask.”

“And you could say.”

His finger toyed with the hem of my shirt. I took in a shallow, gasping breath. I kissed him again. When his nails brushed my belly, I groaned. He kissed harder, a fierce kiss while the tips of his fingers barely touched my abdomen, tracing soft circles below my belly button. I grabbed him by the back of his head, grasping his hair. We stayed like that until I felt frustrated at the lack of something. No sooner had I let go than he kissed me once more, chastely, and smoothed my shirt back out.