Page 13 of The Sorcerer's Thief
“Whoa. Where’d you get all that food?” He joins me on the log and adds his bag of berries.
“Collected as we walked. Help yourself.”
He grabs a walnut and turns it over in his hand. “Don’t suppose you have a nutcracker in that magical hidey-hole of yours, eh?”
Damn. Forgot about that. As it appears in my hand, Cricket widens his eyes as if he’d been joking and wasn’t expecting me to actually procure the tool. Oh, well. So much for keeping secrets.
“That’s awfully handy.” He snatches it and cracks open the shell. “What else do you have squirreled away in there?”
With a put-upon sigh, I summon mugs and wine. Maybe he’ll get drunk and pass out. I could use a nap.
Cricket’s jaw hangs open stupidly. Blinking, he shuts it. “How did you learn how to do that?” An unexpected hint of awe lingers in his voice.
“You genuinely want to know?”
“I do.” He offers me the nut.
I take it. “Do you have any magic of your own?” I’ve pegged him as human, but you never know. He could have distant fae relatives. Roughly five percent of humans have magic, even without fae blood.
He squares his shoulders. “Enough.”
I repress the urge to roll my eyes. “That’s not a real answer. Enough to swat a fly or enough to levitate your grandma? Those are very different levels of power and control.”
“Enough to keep myself from getting caught.” He shrugs and cracks the pile of nuts for us. “Tricks. Little illusions. That’s about it.”
Hmm. Not human after all? “That’s a fair amount. Who taught you?” The crunch of the walnut is satisfying in my mouth. Pairs well with the golden sunberry wine I selected.
“No one.” He starts on one of the plums. A purple drop of juice rolls down his chin. He wipes it away with the back of his hand. “Learned on my own.”
Sounds familiar. So did I, though… “I had tutors as a young child until I was nine and it became clear I’d overstayed my welcome at the family estate. I learned on my own after that.”
He stops glugging his wine midsip. “Your parents kicked you out atnineyears old?”
“My uncle.” I take a plum. “Suffice it to say I’m familiar with being self-taught and the limitations thereof.”
“Nasty uncle.”
“You have no idea.” A shiver courses through me. “I learned a great deal through trial and error. Mostly error. Decades of error.” Admitting as much to someone so young has me feeling my years deep in my bones.
Well, that and all the walking.
He tips his chin. “So is ‘magical error’ how you lost your fingers?”
“Mm-hmm, you got me. Meant to give myself a few extra inches and lost a few fingers instead. Whoops.”
Cricket’s laughter brings a rare smile to my lips. He’s caught on to this particular game of mine rather quickly.
He drops his gaze to the apex of my crossed legs and smirks. “So you’re saying it’s not just fingers you’re missing, eh?”
“Don’t tease unless you intend to find out.” I suck the juice from a particularly sweet berry and moan. “These are divine.”
His cheeks have gone as pink as his berry-stained lips. He quiets.
We eat. We drink. My legs throb. Small stinging bugs find us and our meal and dine on both. Cricket smacks at one and flicks its tiny carcass away.
Ugh, how I miss the indoors. Rugs, loungers, tables…a proper bed. Reading by lamplight. A hot bath. Oh, poisoned potions, what if it rains? I hate being wet.
Cricket clears his throat. “Can you teach me?”
