Page 42 of The Sorcerer's Thief
He clears his throat. “You, Julian, are a hedge-born, fat-kidneyed fopdoodle who wouldn’t know a rooster from a hen if you tripped over her nest and he pecked your eyes out.”
I roll my perfectly intact eyes at his gibberish. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
He shrugs. “Wouldn’t expect a fopdoodle to understand.”
“When I said attack me, I meant physically, not verbally.”
“Why would you want me to do that?”
“So you can see my shield.”
He gives me a slow once-over from head to toe, so slow a wave of self-consciousness courses through me.
What does he see beyond the obvious? I’m tall but otherwise ordinary looking. This close, the sheen to my skin gives away my fae heritage, but from any distance, I pass for human. Like Cricket, who looks human to the naked eye despite the fae blood flowing through his veins.
Just when I think he’ll refuse to attack, he spins and strikes out with his trailing leg. A decent tactic, utilizing his entire body to drive the force, but useless against my shield.
At impact, the iridescent arc around me gleams and flickers.
Cricket curses, hopping around on one leg. “I see why you prefer it to go unnoticed. Ouch.”
He’s not badly hurt. I made sure to pad the shield for him. But his dramatics bring a smile to my lips. “Excellent kick. Too bad it made no difference.”
An eager glimmer dances in his gaze. “Teach me that.” He rubs his foot. “Please.”
“At your command.” We mosey at a slow pace as I explain the basics, Cricket listening intently, Slinger looking bored as ever, and me soaking up every second of being the valued instructor.
Cricket’s cleverness ensures he learns quickly. He asks insightful questions. And though he’s sometimes shy about attempting things for the first time, he gives the lesson his all.
Before long, he’s managed to construct a rudimentary shield that takes the edge off a blow coming from in front of him. With practice, he’ll be able to protect his back and blind spots as well.And though his shield collapses quickly now, I have every faith he’ll build the skill to maintain it over time.
We practice as we go. Cricket shielding himself and me elbowing him, pushing him against Slinger, and once ruthlessly tickling his sides. Sometimes I use my magic, sometimes my hands, and each time his shield falls eventually.
He rubs his hands over his face and groans. “Again.”
“Your strength is waning. You should rest.”
He scowls a bit, ever the perfectionist. “I’m fine. I can keep going.”
“But you don’t have to, and you’re tired. Practicing bad habits will do you no good. You’ve done very well up until this point, but you’re getting sloppy.”
He huffs. “Done well? My shield didn’t hold up a single time!”
“That’s to be expected. You’ve been practicing one hour, while I’ve practiced my entire life.”
He grumbles.
I can’t decide if it’s cute or rude, but I let it slide.
Soon enough, he settles for more questions instead of more practice. “What about charms and spells? Will you still teach me those too?”
I could end the lesson here. Declare my debt to him paid. But the truth is, I like teaching an eager pupil like Cricket, and I don’t want our lessons to be over with so soon. “I will, but not today.”
“Good.” He bumps my shoulder with his. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I bump him back. Affection? Perhaps. Unfamiliar, surely, but not unwanted.
“Hey, Jules.” His voice has softened. “You never told me what you learned from the coin last night with your magic sparkly hands. Besides the fact that you think it’s meddling with our desires.”
