Brightly Woven
Page 42

One of my hands came down to rest on his forehead, and all the lines of worry and tension seemed to give way. He was warm to the touch, as always.
“Gonna sing him a lullaby, now?” James asked.
North’s foot lashed out, missing the younger man’s back by mere inches.
“Oi!” North growled. “You’re wrecking my peace! Just be quiet and drive!”
I swatted him on the forehead.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I sighed.
He turned slightly, as if trying to get more comfortable. “I need to feed you more, you’re awfully bony.”
“Go to sleep,” I warned him, “before you say anything else and I decide to drop you off the side of the wagon.”
He grasped the hand resting on his forehead and entwined his fingers with mine, pulling them down to his chest.
“What were you and your magister fighting about?” I whispered. “You were so upset.”
“About whether,” North said, “any man or wizard has the right to be selfish enough to want to save his life.”
“Of course they do,” I said. “It’s only human to want to save your own life.”
North dropped off into a heavy sleep, and there was no waking him after that. I sat straight up, watching the dark landscape roll by and trying to recall every word of their conversation. The only unfamiliar word had been jinx, and North had spat the word out so heatedly that it had goaded my curiosity.
Carefully reaching for my bag, I retrieved Proper Instruction for Young Wizards and flipped it open to a list of words in the back.
Jinx, I read. A man or woman able to exude magic, as opposed to conveying it, said to appear once a millennia. Jinxes are very dangerous. Their inability to harness their magic is seen in their ability to cause, but not control, storms as they interrupt the natural balance of magic that exists in the world.
The book slipped from my hand, thudding against the wagon bed. North shifted in his sleep. I felt shocked, almost as if the book had burnt my fingers.
“All right, lady?” Peter asked, looking over his shoulder.
I nodded my head. “Yes, I’m fine.”
It was a long while before I could touch the worn leather binding again. By then, the words had settled into some dark recess of my mind, hanging there until I acknowledged them. I opened the book and realized there was still a bit left to the entry: However, no records of jinxes reside in the capital, and many believe them to be nothing but popular lore.
“A man or woman able to exude magic?” I mumbled. And able to cause a storm—like a snowstorm, or a rain shower? No. This definition didn’t fit me at all; it didn’t touch on the strange threads of light. Exude magic. From everything I had learned, wizards could only channel magic, not create it.
It wasn’t possible—it couldn’t be—because Astraea never would allow it. Never.
I snapped the book shut on the impossibility of it all, tossing it down into my bag. But the words weren’t banished from my mind, and it was nearly sunrise before I was tired enough to rest.
I never had the chance to drift into sleep. The wagon came to a sharp halt that threw me forward, and James turned around and shook North awake.
“I think we have a problem,” James said, as North and I stood for a better look.
Standing at the opening to the valley, hands shoved into his pockets casually, was a wizard, and his smirk was visible even from our distance. North shook my arm roughly to get my attention, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the flashes of sunlight against the other wizard’s long dagger.
CHAPTER NINE
I’ve been waiting for you, Wayland,” Dorwan said.
Both boys turned to look at North, but he only let out a disgusted snarl, jumping over the side of the wagon.
“Take her back up to Arcadia,” he said in a low voice. “Tell Pascal what’s happened.”
The boys nodded, and before I could protest, the wagon began to turn around on the narrow path. He’s leaving me behind again, I thought. Watching him walk toward Dorwan, I felt sick, but not paralyzed.
I climbed out of the wagon, and Peter reached for my arm. I pulled away.
“Go back to Arcadia and tell them what’s happened,” I told the boys. “I need to stay with North. Lady Aphra will understand. Tell Pascal.”
I waited until the wagon had cleared the pass before I took a deep breath and walked toward the two wizards. Dorwan’s eyes bore into mine, just as penetrating as I remembered.
“Why are you here?” I asked, already knowing the answer. My hand came to rest behind North’s back.
“To see you again, of course,” he said. Oh, that disgusting smile, that thinly layered malice. “I was so sorry to lose you in Dellark.”
“Sorry enough to poison me,” I said. I looked at North, but I couldn’t read his expression.
“The poison wasn’t meant for you,” Dorwan said in his quiet, silky voice. “An unfortunate mistake. If he had taken it, we could have been together without this trouble.”
North finally moved, blocking me from the other wizard’s view. “You’ll have to find your own assistant, Dorwan,” he said.
Dorwan clucked his tongue. “Assistant? I take it she doesn’t know, then?”
“Know what?” I asked.
“If I had your affliction, I would have experimented, too,” Dorwan said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Though I don’t think I would have stopped so short of a cure. Your magister had the right idea.”