Page 18 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“You can feel my magic?” he asks quietly, and I feel like my answer is important to what happens next.

“Yes, it feels like I’m walking through treacle.” Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, I reach for an explanation. “Should I not be able to?”

“Only other magic users can feel magic being used, and that sensation you’re feeling is the blessing of the Mother settling on you, literally every pore will absorb it. You shouldn’t be able to feel that either, not without magic,” he explains as he stalks towards me, every muscled inch of him rippling with tension. Stopping just out of reach, he waits for my response.

It takes a moment for what he’s saying to sink in before my mouth drops open and a startled laugh escapes me. It sounds strange, more like a bark than the happy, carefree laughter I’ve heard from some of the castle children. “Are you saying I have magic?”

A confused frown pulls at his brow again and he shakes his head as if to deny what I’m saying, but he simply holds out his hand. “Show me your mark again.” With a frown of my own, I take a small step to close the gap between us, his words more an order than a request. Holding out my arms, I remove the cuffs and flip my wrists so he can examine the skin there. I haven’t had the chance to properly look, but when I do, I gasp at what I see. A delicate pink mark in a language I don’t recognise sits just above three black X’s and the slave number branded into my skin. The mark actually sits right above where the cuff was covering my slave marks, answering my unasked question of how he knew it was there. Reaching towards me, Grayson touches the mark, tracing it with a large finger. The mark glows as his power rolls over me.

“You can read it?” I inquire, my words breathy as a warmth fills me, the loving caress I’m beginning to associate with the Mother making a small smile appear on my lips. Grayson’s eyesjump up from the mark and whatever he sees makes his eyes widen, something within him softening before he gives me his own smile.

“Yes, it’s the Mother’s sacred language, the language of our magic. These words hold power.” His tone is quiet, revered, as if we are in the chapel paying our respects, not in some abandoned castle corridor.

“What does it say?” I have to know. The unknown is dangerous, even though I’m sure this mark is a blessing and a gift from the Mother.

Grayson’s thumb continues to rub over the sensitive skin of my wrist, his eyes never leaving my own. “My beloved.” Something flutters within me and a blush colours my cheeks as he whispers the translation to me. I know he’s just telling me what the mark says, but hearing those words awakes something within me.

It’s been a day full of awakenings. Don’t forget who he is, I remind myself, and I realise with a jolt how close we’re standing. Clearing my throat, I take a hasty step back, pulling my wrist from his gentle grasp, subconsciously rubbing at the tingling skin as I mourn the loss of his touch.

Pull yourself together,I berate myself as I take a deep breath and glance around to check no one has seen us. I may not have grown up as a lady, but I’ve been around enough to pick up on etiquette, and I know standing that close to a man will only spread rumours, rumours which I would rather avoid. My main goal is to get through all of this and remain unseen. Which is very difficult to do while wearing a dress made of starlight and receiving a blessing that makes my skin glow. Sighing, I see Grayson is still watching me with undisguised interest.

“What happens now?”

My question seems to shake him out of his daze and his eyes run over me shrewdly, as if assessing I’m dressed appropriately. “You need to go to the ball.”

Groaning, I look at him in horror. I’d hoped I could skip this part, after all, only the lords and ladies are invited to the ball. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Laughing, he grins at my expression, straightening his uniform before he begins walking down the corridor once again. He glances at me questioningly as he passes me. Following behind him, I stare at his back, my thoughts spinning as I try to conjure a way to avoid going as he continues to talk. “I’ll join you after I’ve taken care of something.”

When I finally process what he said, I freeze, staring at his back as he carries on walking, unaware of the terror running through me. He’s sending me into the viper’s nest with only a pretty dress and magicked hair to protect me. “Wait, you’re making me go in by myself? I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“I’ll escort you back to my rooms. You’ll wait there until your escort arrives to take you to the ball. Once I’m free, I’ll join you.” Realising I’m no longer trailing after him, he pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. “We don’t have to stay there long, just long enough to show our faces, then we’ll leave. You will be safe,” he assures me as he lowers his voice, seeing how much Idon’twant to be doing this. I have a decision to make here—make a fuss and refuse to go or trust him. The words of the Mother float through my thoughts again.

Trust in him.Trust inGrayson.

“Promise?” I hate the tremble in my voice, but if Grayson hears it he doesn’t react. Instead, his smile widens and he holds his hand out to me again.

“I promise.”

The reflection that stares at me isn’t one I recognise, but the beautiful, confident woman continues just to look back at me. The curled golden hair, makeup, and dress isn’t just what makes my reflection unrecognisable, although that’s part of the reason. It’s nothing that I can see, at least nothing I can place my finger on, more like it’s an aura around me. Instinctively, my right hand moves over to touch the mark on my left arm, tingles rippling from the mark the moment my fingers graze it. A gasp escapes my lips, my body feeling alive with the power of the Goddess. Gripping the edge of the sink, I brace myself against it until the feeling subsides. I shake my head with wry amusement as I raise my arm to examine the mark. Now that I’m alone, I have time to inspect the pink symbol.

At first, I’d thought it was just a symbol in the sacred language, but it’s more than that. An intricate, swirling pattern surrounds it, creating the image of a crest. My skin is smooth and undamaged, unlike the flesh around the brands below myGoddess mark, where even after many years the skin is scarred and puckered.

“Clarissa, are you okay in there? Your escort is here.” Jayne’s voice is muffled through the door, but I can hear the note of concern in her tone. Jerking away from the mirror like it might bite, I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. I’ve been jumping at every noise that reaches me through the locked door of Grayson’s bathroom. I feel safe in here, and I know that a little lock is nothing compared to even the weakest of magicians, but I’ve never had the ability to lock myself away before and I find it comforting.

“I’m coming,” I reply, and I hear her walk away from the door. I wonder about the lack of security around Grayson’s rooms. Is he not worried that I’ll run away? Until this morning, I was a criminal, and now I have free rein of his rooms. There’s nothing stopping me from leaving. Is that what Jayne is worried about? That I will leave?

Making a rude noise, I shake my head. Where would I go? Why would I want to leave when Grayson has offered me everything and a chance at a new life? I was surprised at the lack of guards as we walked back to his rooms, but then again, if the magicians, our protectors, are unable to protect themselves, then we’re all in deep trouble.

Stop putting it off.

Opening my eyes, I take a step toward the locked door, reaching out for the handle, but then I realise I’m not wearing the cuffs to cover my slave marks. Shaking my head at my near miss, I turn and grab them, placing the metal bands over my wrists, so only my Goddess mark shows through the gauzy material of my sleeves. With one last look in the mirror, I turn my back and open the bathroom door, following the sound of soft voices into the sitting room.

As I enter, I see Jayne handing a steaming cup of tea to a young-looking magician sitting in one of the chairs. As soon as they see me enter, the magician abruptly stops talking and jumps to his feet, knocking the cup out of Jayne’s startled hands.

“Lady Clarissa!” he exclaims, wincing at the sound of the cup smashing on the floor, tea soaking into an intricately woven rug. “Oh crap, I’m so sorry,” he blurts, turning to look at the mess he’s created, then glancing back at me, his head turning comically between the two. A blush spreads across his cheeks and I decide to take pity on him, a small smile turning up the corner of my lips.

“It’s okay.” At my simple words he seems to relax, a cheeky smile thrown my way before turning back to the amused maid and the smashed cup. Closing his eyes, he mutters under his breath and the feeling of magic starts to caress my body. His magic feels different than Grayson’s, weaker, and it comes in waves rather than the constant force I’m used to from the older magician. Eyes widening in awe, I watch as the fragments of the cup rise from the floor and fuse themselves back together, the stain on the floor disappearing completely. Plucking the now fixed cup from the air, he hands it back to Jayne with an apologetic smile.

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