Page 2 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

Wind whistling in my ear was the only sound as I took a breath, pausing my over-explanation of what Ian likely found to be cute, goat-like critters. I preferred the truth of things, studying the historical relevance and understanding the ins and outs of how something worked, which might’ve been off-putting. Okay, definitely off-putting.

“Wally!”

Ian’s shout startled my attention back to our course, where we were about to collide with an oncoming tree. No, not oncoming. That’d involve the tree moving.

No.

We were the ones moving.Me.

I was the one directing this crashing flight as we descended lower on the trail toward a cluster of trees too thick to avoid.

Pouring mana into the broom with saturation only sped our impending collision because the sigils’ fueling speed, instead of lifting, glowed brighter, and once again, I’d proven I couldn’t do anything right.

Ian wrapped his fingers over mine, yanking the broom back and altering our direction. A gust of wind burst—very much not a natural anomaly but a sign of Ian’s precision over elemental magic, even though he was a clear water sign—which helped push us up and over the thorny bristles of long-forgotten trees.

“I’m sorry.” I trembled, unable to shake away the dread. “I suck at this. I suck at everything.”

“Chill.” Ian steered the broom to the ground from behind me. I was too frazzled to concentrate, so I let him take over since he had a knack for what I never did. “You don’t suck.”

“I do. I suck a lot.”

Ian snorted as we descended. “Are you beating yourself up or bragging?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” I slid forward off the broom, finding my footing with shaky legs.

“Think about it.”

I huffed. “Not what I meant.”

“Too bad.” Ian winked.

That was a sign. Or debris from our flight caught in his eye, forcing a one-eyed blink to remove the obstruction, which was totally feasible and far more likely than him flirting with me during a practice flight in which I almost crashed. Still, his bright blue eyes and long lashes were worth staring at for investigative purposes. He stretched his back, arching until his tight black tee lifted slightly, revealing his abdomen. I turned.

“You’ve got to get out of your own head,” he said. “You know more about magic than anyone I’ve ever met.”

That was true. Not in a braggart way. I knew literally everything there was to know. What I didn’t know, I studied, learned, and taught to anyone willing to listen. A relatively short list, which mainly involved the Magus who only kept me employed since I comprehended the theory of magic, mana, and Mythics better than most. If only I could apply theory to practice, I wouldn’t be outdone by a guy like Ian, who didn’t come from a mage lineage. Ian didn’t learn about the Mythic world until he was twenty-five when he witnessed magic in use and retained the memories after sentinels failed to glamour away the event.

We were the same age, yet he’d adapted quickly to mage society, rose through the ranks, and went from apprentice to practitioner in an official regiment well within a year of training.Ian was practically chosen for greatness, stumbling onto his destiny, while I couldn’t manifest mine despite years of effort. Further proof that what a person knew mattered significantly less than how they applied that understanding. I’d had my entire life to practice and study, yet remained an apprentice for the archivist regiment. It all boiled down to filing practitioner’s findings instead of being permitted to go explore and research my own.

I fidgeted, searching for the right thing to say to Ian. A thank you for his time, for saving me, for believing in me even if I had an annoying tendency to whine. Instead, I remained silent, absorbing Dolen’s Crossing, where all the portals in the vast Dimensional Atrium converged.

Not only had Ian steadied my mana and avoided crashing, but he’d also taken us back to the entryway. Portals glowed, and practitioner mages utilized the doorways to skirt through quickly from one place to the next, walking over the constructed stone pathways, none savoring the beauty of this realm. It was day-to-day for them, and so few explored the many facets this pocket reality offered. Ironic considering Dolen meant wanderer.

All I wanted was to wander and study everything about the Mythic world up close, which I could only truly do with a practitioner title. Go on excavations for magical artifacts, immerse myself in Mythic society, unravel the secrets of Diabolics—something few knew because while they lingered near our world, it was rare that they tore the dimension separating us asunder. To say I held a fascination for everything magical was an understatement.

“You okay?” Ian nudged my shoulder with his, another comforting sensation that sent every synapse firing off wild ideas.

“Fine. Just realizing my lunch break is almost over, and I have to get back to work.” I headed toward the portals before I made a bigger fool out of myself. “Thank you again. I’ll have to pay you back sometime. For your time.”

“Wait.” Ian moved in close.Too close.

His lips practically touched mine, and the entire Dimensional Atrium faded away. The carefully cultivated aromas the Fae kept well despite all the foliage and fauna cohabitating in this dwelling were washed away beneath the powerful citrus cologne Ian wore. It held a strong musk of sweetness and spice that left me entranced. His Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed, his eyes locked on mine, and his lip quivered ever so until he smiled.

“Y-yes?”

“Sorry.” Ian backstepped, boyish and nervous and almost as fidgety as me. “I’ve been trying to play it cool for weeks now. Casual when I see you in the museum—which almost never happens. But then you needed a study buddy, and I thought it’d be a great chance to hang out…but now you’re off to the repository again.”

Where I spent almost all my time. That or locked away in my room studying for an exam I never passed.

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