The Wellspring (12 page)

The moment the porter delivered them to the
marble terrace, she vanished, and Yule stood perfectly
still—waiting. Household staff hurried out to welcome Prosser home
and collect the luggage, but Yule ignored all of this.

“Miss Fiore?” he asked when she remained
standing where she’d arrived. “Are you—waiting for something?”

“Yes.”

After a moment he moved to stand beside her.
“May I ask what you are waiting for?” He looked around when she
didn’t answer after a minute.

Finally she sighed. “I guess I thought—I’d
feel something.”

“I don’t understand.”

Yule turned to him. “It’s Atlantis. Shouldn’t
I feel something?”

His expression was understanding and kind.
“The Guardians shouldn’t have treated you the way that they did. I
didn’t intend for your first experience of Atlantis to be an
unpleasant one.”

Yule shrugged. “I’m accustomed to it, Magus.
Hermes says magic folk feel hostile toward Stunts because we remind
them that magic is leaving this world.”

Prosser’s expression became stern. “Don’t let
me hear you calling yourself a Stunt. Your magic is underdeveloped,
but you are not stunted by that circumstance. In fact, except for
that rather unsightly chip on your pretty shoulder, it seems to
have strengthened you. Now, come inside and unpack then I will
familiarize you with my hearth.”

Yule did as he bade her, swathed in a soft
glow of unexpected pleasure. He meant nothing intimate by it, but
Prosser Teomond said she had a pretty shoulder! As minute and
unintended it was, it was still a compliment and Yule couldn’t help
being flattered.

The hearth, Prosser called it Drowsingfaire,
seemed built to a scale just overlarge of average. It made every
column and drapery, each molding and balustrade appear somehow
humbling and Yule had to tell herself whispering and tiptoeing were
not expected here. The room to which he directed her appeared
larger than the entire condominium she shared with Hermes and she
eyed the lavish vista with awe until the sheer immensity of it
suddenly struck her as ridiculous in proportion and she leapt onto
the bed, bouncing twice on the extravagantly designed coverlet then
collapsing in a fit of giggles.

When the bout of hilarity left her she rolled
onto her stomach and let her eyes wander the spacious room and
artistic furnishings. On the far side, pale silk volumes of
curtains billowed gently inward from a balcony bringing the tang of
sea breezes into the room along with the scent of ginger and
plumeria. She propped her chin on her hands and envisioned the next
few days where she roamed sparkling white beaches under a hot sun:
the scent of sea and exotic flowers filling the air while a
turquoise sea flung cottony foam at her bare feet. A man who looked
not unlike Prosser strolled casually toward her on that beach, his
dark hair windblown and unruly, white shirt hanging open, the arms
rolled up, revealing tanned and muscular arms and chest. She smiled
blissfully at the little fantasy until her eyes fell on the easy
reader crystal to which Hermes transferred the information Prosser
provided regarding this trip. These three weeks could still be
magical even if she had work to accomplish, it was all a matter of
planning.

***

Magus Teomond seemed singularly disinterested
in starting her employment. When twilight settled over Atlantis and
Yule appeared for dinner, she was led out to spreading marble
veranda where a table disappointingly set for one glowed invitingly
under candlelight, and the view beyond the balustrade momentarily
relegated her let down in dining alone to the back of her
considerations. The garden below glowed under floating orbs of
light giving the grounds a fairytale quality. The travelogue
crystals failed to compare to this ethereal presentation.

Yule didn’t see Magus Teomond the entire
evening and while she was disheartened by his failure to appear, it
gave her additional time to study her itinerary for the remainder
of the trip. He didn’t seem any more inclined to see her working
the following morning either, when she came down to breakfast and
this time found him waiting at the same table at which she’d dined
alone for dinner.

“I trust you slept well?” he inquired
graciously, rising to hold out her chair for her. “I apologize for
my absence, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the introductions
meeting. Deadly dull, I assure you.”

“I managed to keep myself occupied and out of
trouble,” she replied, unfolding the linen napkin on her plate and
settling it on her lap.

“The first is easy to do here, the second I
must commend you for because that is not so easy to do here,” he
told her and the lightness of his tone surprised her. Was Prosser
teasing her? If he was she couldn’t be convinced by his expression
as he poured their coffee and gestured toward a silver tray holding
a sugar bowl and a creamer.

After dosing her coffee liberally with both
cream and sugar (“would you like a little coffee with your cream
and sugar?” Hermes always teased), she tentatively sipped it and
looked across the balustrade again. The view at night was magical,
but the view in pink and golden morning was positively exquisite.
Bright with color, the gardens were bordered by tan and green palms
as well as tulip, trumpet and banana trees. A part in the riotous
mixture of color and shade revealed a golden glint of beach. The
sea teased the sand with fingers of spume, appearing pale green
beyond this as it disappeared toward the horizon. And all of this
drowsed dreamily under hues of softest pink and purest gold that
seemed to tint the very air around them. Yule imagined she could
almost smell the colors, the air was so thick with their
vibrancy.

“Is it better now?” asked Prosser.

“Better?” She looked across the table.

“Than when you first arrived in
Drowsingfaire,” he elucidated.

“Oh.” She blushed and lowered her eyes,
turning them to the breathtaking images beyond the veranda. “Yes,”
she admitted. “It’s much more how I hoped it would be.”

“But you’re still waiting,” he observed,
drawing her eyes back to him. “Whatever it is you think you should
feel—you’re still waiting for it?”

“You’re teasing me,” she chastised with a
smile.

“Not at all,” he defended as their breakfast
of fruit, sweet rolls, and fresh tropical fruit juice was served.
“But you will let me know when it happens, won’t you? I must admit
I am curious as to the identity of this feeling.” He gave her a
wink and she laughed lightly.

“If it happens I will certainly share the
information,” she promised before indulging in the light yet
satisfying meal.

“I like to take a short stroll to the beach
after breakfast,” he told her when the meal ended. “There’s a
little footpath from the gardens to the shore, but if you’re
inclined to accompany me I must caution you to screen that creamy
complexion against the sun.”

The way he said
creamy
didn’t sound
like an insult so she smiled. “Are you inviting me, Magus?”

“Considering the threat of sunburn, perhaps
I’m daring you.” He returned her smile, his voice still easy and
relaxed, so unlike his professional, clipped tones.

“Then I accept both,” she said and his
eyebrows rose with amusement.

Yule went up to her room to grab a pair of
sunglasses, pausing to anoint her hand with the tanning potion so
that her “creamy complexion” grew golden with aesthetic protection.
She considered a quick change from the simple white sundress to a
pair of shorts and a bikini top, but decided Prosser might think
she was behaving too casually. Besides, she didn’t want to keep the
Magus waiting.

She hurried back downstairs and fairly
skipped out to the veranda—where she came to an abrupt halt and the
smile froze on her lips. Lissome and breathtaking in a tropical
print pareo, Sheirienu was shaking back her luxurious black hair
and laughing lightly at something Magus Teomond said. Yule felt an
odd, sharp stab in the pit of her stomach and a strange urge to
retreat before they noticed her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong,
but she felt illogically guilty at seeing them together.

“Ah, here she is.”

Too late! Yule realized Prosser spotted her
then internally scolded herself for imagining she stood in a cross
hairs. Why are you acting like—like what? Like you’re jealous of
Magus Teomond. This isn’t a romantic getaway so shake off the
daydream and get your mind on the work ahead of you.

“Lovely to see you again, Yule,” Sheirienu
greeted her warmly. “Will you be indulging Prosser in his morning
constitutional?”

“Miss Fiore has graciously accepted my
invitation to walk to the beach,” Prosser corrected the sayer with
mock stiffness.

“Be careful it doesn’t evolve into a ten mile
hike,” Sheirienu cautioned with amusement, catching up one of
Yule’s arms in hers.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t—will it?” Yule looked
to Prosser for confirmation.

“I’d better go along to make sure he doesn’t
take advantage of having company for an all day sojourn,” Sheirienu
laughed, drawing Yule along with her when Prosser motioned for them
to take the sweeping stone stairs down to the garden.

The broad, pea-graveled path led around the
grass and into the soft shadows of the jungle where it dipped
gently downward until finally vanishing upon meeting the upper edge
of the golden beach. Here, the trio formed a loose line as they
strolled casually along the water line. Yule tried not to look at
Prosser as he parted a short distance from them and removed his
shoes so that he could walk through the low ripples as the tide
surged across the sand. Watching him refreshed her daydream and she
couldn’t have stray thoughts leaking out in a place where there
might be magic workers talented in overhearing such things.

“He should spend more time here,” Sheirienu
remarked to Yule. “It relaxes him, although that could be an effect
of his present company.”

“He does seem more relaxed when he’s with
you,” Yule wistfully agreed.

Sheirienu laughed lightly at that. “Not me,
silly, you.”

“Me?” Yule blinked with surprise.

“Of course, you’re so—charming and
uncomplicated.”

“I—suppose I am,” Yule allowed, feeling
complimented and needled. “But I don’t think it’s me, I think it’s
Atlantis.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of the
superstitious folk who believe Atlantis holds some special font of
power and unity just because it happens to be our birthplace?”

It’s not that—really,” Yule didn’t want to
sound ignorant. “It’s just so lovely here, away from
everything.”

“It is beautiful,” the sayer agreed, looking
around. “I prefer that he brought you this time, not Marissa
Snowden.”

Yule was sure she’d heard the name before,
but couldn’t quite put the date and time, or the face for that
matter, to it. She didn’t move in Hermes’ social circle so it
wasn’t as if she’d forgotten meeting a socialite—maybe he’d
mentioned the name? She was just about to ask about the mysterious
Marissa Snowden when Sheirienu provided the information.

"Do you have good instincts about people,
Yule?”

“I’ve never given the question much
consideration,” she admitted. “I’ve never actually thought about it
at all,” she confessed. “I suppose I’m like everyone, I just get a
feeling about a person when I meet them and go with my initial
impression. I’m usually right when I go with my gut.”

Sheirienu nodded. “You’re probably sensitive
to auras without really being aware,” she observed and Yule felt
the familiar sting of being reminded how disconnected she was to
her magic. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever met her,” she said this as
if it were a given.

“Who? Marissa Snowden?” Yule gave a little
laugh. “No, not much chance of that, but I think I’ve heard her
name somewhere.”

“I’m sure you have. Her mother is Magus
Evelyn Snowden, the realty magnate. She—”

Yule gasped quietly. Evelyn Snowden was
behind the committee trying to disenfranchise powered down Groves
and open them to the general real estate market. It was one of her
companies seeking to purchase Yule’s Family Grove! A recent memory
popped into her mind, St. John telling Prosser that Magus Snowden
was waiting for him in his office.

“You’ve probably heard the usual stories
about how she started her company against her father’s wishes so
she had to find funding on her own, and eventually she built an
empire worth hundreds of millions—some say with the help of magic,
but I think that’s envy speaking. The woman is shrewd and
ruthless,” Sheirienu continued. “It’s too bad Marissa inherited her
mother’s exceptional looks and ruthlessness, but none of her
business focus. It means she uses both to lure in men as a
hobby.”

“Magus Snowden is—attractive?” Yule asked,
recalling the long legs she’d glimpsed beyond Prosser’s office door
before it closed.

Sheirienu nodded. “Very much so. She had
aspirations of being a fashion model before the real estate bug bit
her. Have you seen any of her advertisements?”

“No, but I thought I saw—” Yule glanced at
the sayer and reached for her instincts about the woman, putting
aside her petty jealousy of the woman’s beauty and power. She felt
this was someone who could be trusted with a confidence so she told
her about how she’d met Prosser, the legs behind his office
door—and before she realized what she was saying she’d told her the
whole story and when she finished Sheirienu laughed.

“What a marvelous story! I would have dearly
loved to see Prosser’s expression at your appearance in his car!”
she remarked delightedly. “He’s so seldom surprised by anything,
but I’d never have the gall to sneak into his car! Well done,
Yule!” she commended heartily. “It’s unfortunate it didn’t happen
on a night Marissa coerced him into taking her out, or even more
delicious, if she’d been awaiting him at the inn to surprise him.
What a marvelous meeting that would have made!”