Page 28 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Through the reflection in the mirror, I can see Grayson’s face—a mixture of embarrassment, shock, and anger as he takes me in. We stand in shocked silence for a couple of seconds, my heart beating fast as I wait for his reaction. I could try to hide, to cower away or scramble for something to cover myself, but I don’t, he’s seen me now and I’m not ashamed of my body. Sure, I hadn’t exactly planned on him seeing me in my underwear, but I won’t let him or anyone else make me feel ashamed of my scars or wounds. Each one tells a story, shows that I survived.

“You said you were okay.” Voice quiet, he takes a step into the room, softly shutting the door behind him as he walks to my side, examining the bruises that colour my skin. He’s silent and looks calm, but the stillness in his limbs and the dark anger in his eyes tell a different story. I was scared of Grayson when I first met him, his show of power frightening, but this change in him worries me more.

“I am okay,” I say again, turning to face him, but he is too busy looking at the mess of scars on my stomach. “Grayson,” I call softly, placing my hand on his arm to get his attention. When he finally looks up at me, I flinch away from the cold fury in his eyes. I know I need to change the subject, to get him to stop looking at me like that, and I remember when he told me that ridiculous story about the goat.

“I’m pretty sure it’s rude for magicians to burst in on ladies getting changed." My sudden change of subject seems to work as he blinks and takes a step back, a frown marring his face.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, meeting my gaze for a second before dropping his back to my bruises. “I want to heal you.” Hisdeceleration is so abrupt that it takes me a couple of moments to process what he said.

“You can do that?” The words escape me before I can stop them and I bite down on my lip, worried that I might offend him. After all, he is one of the high magicians, their magic seemingly limitless, but I’m still learning what magicians can and can’t do. Every magical act, even things they think of as trivial, is a wonder in my eyes.

Thankfully, Grayson doesn't seem to be offended, his eyes still glued to my skin. Shifting uneasily, I clear my throat and he finally looks up, his intense expression making me take a sharp intake of breath. Thoughtfulness, that underlying anger, and something that looks like…concern. Why would he be concerned? Does healing magic require a greater toll than other magics?

“Yes, but it involves me touching you, I have to have skin-to-skin contact for it to work.”

Oh.He’s worried about how I would feel about him touching me? A small frown pulls at my brow. Would I mind the magician touching me? I’ve generally avoided any touch for the last twelve years of my life, and since Grayson saved me, I’ve had more physical contact than I have during my whole time as a slave.

Or he’s worried about touching a slave, worried he might catch a disease from your disgusting skin.The nagging voice of doubt plays at the back of my head, but I push it away. This isn’t just any magician, it’s Grayson. For whatever reason, he wants to help me. Studying his rich blue eyes, I realise I’m staring at him and quickly look away, nodding my head in agreement.

Taking a step closer, he kneels on the floor and reaches out slowly, his eyes on me the whole time, and I know if I told him to stop, he would. Gently touching my side, his hand slides over my skin and I have to bite my lip to stop a throaty moan from escaping, his touch is like a balm. Skimming around myside, his magic rolls over me before his fingers land lightly on the Goddess mark on my spine, the mark I had always thought was a birthmark. It looks very different than the mark on my wrist that I received at my blessing. With his magic rolling over me, a shockwave rocks my body as he presses against it, a gasp escaping me as energy fills my body. I feel powerful, like I could crush a human skull in my hand, and I peer down at my arms, expecting them to look different, but they don’t. Twisting my hands so I can see my wrists, I note that my brands look the same, the black Xs standing out against my pale skin, but my Goddess mark from the blessing is glowing. A sharp flash of pain in my side has me wincing, but the feeling is nothing compared to the rush of healing magic surging through my body.

Grayson removes his hand and the feeling starts to fade, but my body still buzzes with the sensation of that power running through me. A rare smile blooms on my face as I turn my head to look at the magician. Except he’s staring at his hand like he’s afraid it might bite him.

“Grayson?” I hate how unsure my voice sounds, how needy I’ve become since I met him. I’m shown a little bit of kindness, and all of a sudden, I’m clinging to it, constantly needing reassurance.

At my voice his eyes flick from his hand to me, and then back again. Reaching out, he gently grabs my wrist and examines my mark, which is still glowing softly. “Mother above,” he mutters so quietly I almost don’t catch it.

Pulling my hand away, I wrap both arms around my middle, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him. The look of confused wonderment in his eyes is almost too much. When he looks at me like that, I feel naked, vulnerable. “What’s going on?” My voice is sharp with demand, needing him to snap out of whatever trance he seems to be in.

“You’re healed.”

Barking out a humourless laugh, I drop my arms and turn to face the mirror again, examining my unblemished skin and pressing gently against my ribs. I shake my head with amazement when I feel no pain.

“Wasn’t that the point?” Twisting my body from side to side to test the healing, I feel light and strong, better than I’ve felt in years. Grayson’s silence meets my question and I stop twisting to turn to him, anxiety churning in my stomach. “Grayson, you’re making me worry.”

Pushing up to his feet, he frowns down at me, touching my shoulder gently as he spins me around, as if searching my body for an answer. “I don’t know what just happened.”

Is he being purposely dense? Perhaps he’s joking with me. I have little experience with jokes, but I suppose this could be one. “You healed me?” I retort, my statement sounding more like a question, the corner of my mouth twitching up into an uncertain smile. Realising he’s scaring me, he lets out a breath of air and scrubs his face, leaving his hair in an adorable mess.

Wait, did I just think that he’s adorable? He’s a high magician. No. I can’t afford to think that way, not now, and certainly not about him. He’s my saviour and the only thing keeping me away from the gallows.

“Yes, but I’ve never seen a healing like that before, and I’ve healed hundreds of people,” he explains, and I have to bite back a sigh. Another way that I’m different and unknown, which is never a good thing. In uncertain times like these, the king doesn’t want anything or anyone that he’s not one hundred percent sure he can control. “It was like your body sped up the healing process.” My ears prick with interest at his comment. So I may be different, but my body is healing quicker? Is that from the blessing, another gift from the Great Mother, or something about me that reacts to Grayson’s magic? “For damage as extensive as yours, it should have taken about an hour ofchanting, not seconds.” His eyes are drawn again to the glowing mark on my wrist. It’s starting to fade now, but it’s still eerily noticeable.

“What are you saying?” Realising I’m still standing in just my underwear, I turn and grab the pile of soft clothing that Jayne had left for me, glancing over my shoulder at Grayson. “I have my own magic?”

“No, I’m sure you’re not a magician.” He doesn’t sound certain, like he’s trying to convince himself, and I can’t deny that a part of me is disappointed. To have my own magic, to be able to protect myself and help others is a pretty thought, and one I hadn’t realised how strongly I felt about until Grayson said it wasn’t possible.

Turning back to face the bundle of clothing, I unfold what I thought was a dress but turns out to be a soft, pretty tunic with long, flowing trousers, all in shades of dark blue. Where did he get all these clothes from, and so quickly? Did they belong to someone else before me? That thought makes me cringe, so I push it away and slide the loose tunic over my head, marvelling at the soft fabric. I can feel Grayson’s eyes on my brand and my birthmark-turned-Goddess mark, but I ignore him, bending to step into the trousers. I realise they are high waisted, with a pretty jewelled belt that ties around the tunic, synching it in. I haven’t seen many of the ladies wearing clothing like this, but I have to admit it’s pretty and comfortable. I’d pick it over the tight dresses any day. Soft matching silk slippers are on the floor by the sink, which I slide on before reaching for the metal bangle-like cuffs that cover my marks on my wrists. I shake my head at the irony. I’ve traded one set of cuffs for another, except these help me stay free. If anyone was to see my slave marks…Shaking my head, I turn to face Grayson who is still watching me with an odd look on his face.

“My magic acts differently around you.”

I have no idea how to answer his statement and he seems to be saying it more to himself than to me. Now dressed appropriately, I walk past him and go to open the door as he calls my name. I stop, but don’t turn, I’m tired of being looked at by him like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out, something to be fixed with secrets to be discovered. But I will hear him out, I owe him that much.

“Mage Wilson is joining us for dinner, does that suit you?”

A genuine smile crosses my lips at his question. It’s small and fragile, but it’s real. I haven’t seen Wilson since the ball yesterday, and I’d like to see him again. Frustration forgotten, I look over my shoulder at the magician, my smile bright, and something in him changes, his whole body relaxing as he returns my smile with his own.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

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