Page 20 of Joined By Magic

He hit a button and my stomach lurched as force propelled me upward. My body pressed down into the seat and pressure built in my ears. My vision blurred as trees gave way to sky, and a shocked laugh bubbled up. Fear fled, replaced by joy.

Such fun. No one I’d ever known had experienced this. How much else was out there? The chair came to a slow stop, and I blinked away tears. A sturdy woman with a lined face unclipped me. She smiled.

“First go?”

“How did you know?” My voice wavered.

“You’ve got that dazed look first timers always have. Isn’t it great?”

I licked dry lips. “It’s fantastic. I can’t wait to go back down.”

The woman laughed and helped me from the seat. “Last ride’s at seven. Don’t miss it. The stairs are a bitch, especially in the dark.”

“Thanks.”

With a parting wave at the woman, I walked into the town. People bundled up in warm coats filled the narrow streets, and the brightly colored shop fronts brought a smile to my face. Each was different to its neighbor, most with glowing or flashing signs. “A small town,” the prince had called it. It still felt like somewhere I could get lost.

Time flew as I rushed in and out of the stores. Food, clothing, bedding, all packaged up and placed into boxes, then teleported to the coordinates I gave. When the prince explained how it worked here, I hadn’t believed him, but it was true. Mages, young ones, took jobs in shops as if they were normal people.

My final stop, the riding store, was at the end of a long road up a steep hill. Sweating under my coat, I panted as I pushed open the door. The pampered life I’d led in the palace had made me lazy, stolen away some of my fitness.

A broad-shouldered woman greeted me with a wide grin. “Hello! What can I do for you?”

I gazed around the shop, taking in row after row of saddles, bridles, protective gear, and other things I couldn’t name. Along the back wall behind the counter hung a graduated line of riding crops, sized from small to intimidatingly large. The prince hadn’t specified the size. I eyed them, imagining them smacking against my skin. Would it hurt as much as his cane? More?

“Miss?” The woman’s smile faltered. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry!” I braced for awkward questions. “I’d like a crop please.” I studied the selection again and pointed to a long one with an ornate leather handle. Expensive looking. “That one.”

The woman frowned. “That’s for a racing horse. What do you ride? A pony?”

I floundered. “No. It’s a gift for my sister. She lives in Rydal and races for sport.”

I cut myself off. The easiest way to get caught in a lie was to talk too much. The woman eyed me for a few more moments, then reached for the crop. “Okay then.” She took my money. “Are you new in town?”

I launched into my prepared spiel for the fifth time that day. “Yes. My husband and I”—the words felt strange—“are renovating a lakeside cabin. Do you know of anyone who can do that sort of work?” So far, I’d had no luck.

The woman’s smile returned. “I do. My husband and our son have a business doing just that. My son’s a mage, so they’re quick workers. Cheap too. I’m Matilda. Here’s their card, tell them I said to give you a good price when you call.” She handed over a glossy rectangle emblazoned with a photo of a hammer.

I tried not to let my confusion show. Her son was a mage, but her husband wasn’t? How could that be? Matilda tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“No kids yourself?”

I shook my head.

“Didn’t think so, you’re far too pretty. Don’t do it too soon is my advice. Anyway, you’re thinking my son must be too young to do the work, but he was one of the first babies born under the new system. He’s eighteen. Had his powers for three years and he’s good with them. Strong. I’m nothing special, but all the donors have to be, of course. That’s the whole point. Are you a mage? Your husband?”

The question had the power to shock, even though it made sense here, where mixed relationships weren’t forbidden. “I’m not. He is.”

As if it were no big deal.

Matilda’s face creased, mouth turning down in a pitying look. “Oh, you’ll have to use a donor egg, then. It’s supposed to be hard on the body. Still, by the time you’re ready, they might have made it easier. They seem to come up with new things every day.”

Donor eggs? I tried to find out more without raising suspicions. “Do you know people who’ve done it?”

Matilda nodded. “The government incentives are great. Some of my friends have donated. They said it wasn’t too bad. And there’s a couple in town, they run the bakery, who’ve got two kids from donor eggs. Neither have manifested yet—too young—but I’m sure they will.”

“That’s good.” I tried to mimic Matilda’s casual tone while my head spun. Donor eggs or sperm from a mage would mean the baby had powers. Two mage parents, essentially.

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