Enchanter's Echo (6 page)

Aurora was telling them she was dark without anyone needing to ask.

The little liar.

Edmund reached out with his vibes, found Noble’s damn sound spell and let his destruere power have its rein. With a whisper of a touch, he destroyed it joule by joule, a risk he’d never dare without her. Like a chain around her vibes, his spell would compel her to act.

The crowd shifted, as if sensing something, but they wouldn’t recognize his spell for what it was. No destruere mage had lived in four hundred years.

His implosion built. Across the room, Aurora glared at him. A shower of glitter burst into the air above their audience, stopping his spell. Overkill—his enchantress was nervous—but effective.

He played some more and let his dangerous vibes flow stronger, forcing her to save the ignorant crowd. The ball-goers watched as a stranger to their ranks flaunted the purist light by wearing black, yet put on a show that only the lightest of mages could do.

Her spell glittered, building in the air above them all like branches of snowy trees. Another push of his power, another counter of hers. Her energy surrounded him, made him feel clean and whole. A shaft of jealousy pierced him from head to toe at the thought that she was making everyone in the room feel that way.

He stopped, cutting off his vibes like they’d met the edge of a cliff. She went tumbling over. Glitter shimmered through the air, coating everyone until she found her control, a split second, but a split second too long for him. That was his glitter to be coated in. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The crowd parted as he sauntered forward beneath her branches of snowy white that now sparkled across the ceiling.

“Enchantress.” He spoke to her softly but cast his voice throughout the room. “You grace us with your presence, gift us with the touch of your power.”

The crowd murmured its approval.

He smiled as he paused a dozen paces from her. “The Drainpipe could have no finer champion.”

A collective gasp of horror resounded around the room, followed by a chorus of ahhhs. Yes, wasn’t she sweet bestowing such charity on the dirty dark?

She scanned the room, drawing herself up at their scorn for the dark. For him...maybe?

The bright white of her glittery branches dimmed. Their light faded one by one until tiny twinkles of stars sparkled against night’s dark.

She drifted forward, her skirt dancing over her legs, bringing her to him. She mimicked the push of his voice, throwing her sweetness over the crowd. “Without the dark, we would not know the light.”

Yes, her green eyes swirled fire, but the softness of her words soothed a crack in his heart he’d forgotten was there. The dark was needed. He was needed.

She stopped in front of him. Her lips glistened at him. He wanted to lean in and taste, to claim them as his. Instead, he reached out and lifted her fingers to kiss. “That’s excellent payback, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Keep it up. You’ll be out of debt in no time.”

Her soft gasp was as quiet as his words. Her stars lost their twinkle as the snowy white branch returned. She slipped her hand from his and strode past him. The crowd applauded as she stepped among them.

He turned to find David Noble bowing over her hand. The man pulled her stiff form toward the dance floor and pointed his finger at the orchestra’s conductor, an order to play.

Not vibing happening. This was his territory. That was his girl.

Three paces devoured the distance between them. He slipped his arm low against her waist, those curvy hips splayed under his hand. Remarkably, she stepped closer to him. He let his satisfaction gleam in a narrow smile at his political enemy.

“Stealing her away from me already, Rallis?” Noble sneered. “Typical. Rallis takes the best for themselves depleting the Republic’s resources.”

“Find your own enchantress, Noble.”

“Funny that. We had one not long ago.”

Edmund listened for the lie, but no crickets sounded. He stifled his surprise. Neither the gossipers nor Rallis’s informants had leaked any hint of an enchantress in Noble. An enchantress’s loyalty vow was always announced and celebrated with smug glee. Apparently, Noble had acquired one on the sly.

He looked down at Aurora. Unlike every other enchantress he knew of, she avoided the spotlight like it was a beam of trash vibes. It wasn’t hard to fit this puzzle together and the picture it formed was all around unacceptable. He gritted his teeth.

“She left us when her vow expired.” Noble narrowed his eyes at Aurora, though he spoke to Edmund. “It was a few months after my sister disappeared. A difficult time for the family.”

“Difficult indeed,” Edmund said, pulling Aurora closer, “and a reminder to hold tight to our treasures. Excuse us, we need to re-cast this party.” He guided the ex-Noble enchantress to the dance floor.

Her shoulders tightened against his arm.

“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll spell your feet to follow the steps.” He looked down at her with a possessive grin. She’d be in his arms, and everyone would know he’d claimed her.

She spun to face him in the middle of the dance floor as the orchestra began the introduction of a waltz. The underside of her black dress spread out to reveal a lather of skin-colored ruffles and high heels made for seduction. He was all for it.

“You think a simple girl from the junkyard doesn’t know the social niceties?” She lifted an eyebrow. “I know how to waltz.”

He bowed over her hand. “My apologies, enchantress. You surpass this lowly mage’s expectations yet again.” He straightened and pulled her closer than proper for the dance. “I need to step up my game to keep pace with you.” He led her into the dance and she followed him with grace. Waltzing was not a skill taught in the junkyard or anywhere in the Drainpipe. Which left Noble Territory. Who there had taught her to waltz? Who’d held her in his arms?

“I don’t play games, Edmund.”

Though Aurora carefully averted her eyes as they spun past his parents and the senator, he didn’t miss their smug triumph at the family’s newest acquisition. Of course, it wasn’t quite in the bag yet, and they didn’t know this enchantress’s wily ways—and criminal past—but he liked a challenge.

“Princess, you play games more dangerous than I ever dared. Foolish games,” he whispered, his mouth brushing the soft skin of her cheek. He protected the words with a sound spell. He’d never risk revealing the truth. When the news had reached him five months ago that the dead metallist had an enhanced metal eye, he’d rushed to the scene and plucked it out himself. He’d recognized Aurora’s energy at the first touch. Unbeknownst to his mother, it had never been in the basement armory. The deadening box had been empty all along.

He’d renewed his efforts to find her, directing tracker mages to search down every rumor in the Republic of anything related to an enchantress—glitter sightings, fairy dust, secret and not-so-secret communing rituals. Then two days ago, one of their newest political appointees, to be announced tonight in fact, had let it slip that he’d turned over the fate of his most prized possession to an enchantress’s repair shop at the junkyard’s edge. A stupid clue. Enchantresses didn’t have repair shops. Edmund had gone anyway. She’d been standing behind a long counter, visible through the window.

“Your tower awaits should you ever play such games again. We have four of them at Rallis Hall, all currently vacant. You can have your pick, though I recommend the north. Best view.”

“No, thank you.” She stiffened, straightening in his arms, and his hand slid an inch down her back. An inch closer to an ass his hands were begging for.

He refocused with effort. “You won’t have a choice if you play that game again. And, Aurora, if you do, you should beg the goddess that I’m the one who catches you.”

She tilted her head, shying from his words, but baring her neck, tempting his lips. One little nibble wouldn’t go amiss. The scandal would be minimal. Problem was, he wouldn’t stop there.

“Vow to me that you won’t do it again.” He let her hear the fear that welled up in his heart at the thought.

“I don’t vow to anything. Not anymore.”

He raised a brow at her, sensing the truth in her statement, though eight months ago she’d been under a vow. He’d discovered that much during their weekend together. At the time, she’d refused to tell him who—Noble, apparently—and he hadn’t pressed, thinking they had all the time in the world. Then she’d disappeared.

He spun her past his mother again, who was smiling like the wolf that ate his master’s wand and then ate his master. The crowd was rapt, oblivious to the currents passing between him and his enchantress, currents that Aurora worked to conceal with a soft, blank smile. She was a natural.

“Too busy making illegal eyes to bother with another vow?”

“He was my father, Edmund.”

Shit. He hadn’t seen that coming. She was one secret after the other. A metallist mage with an enchantress daughter? Who knew that was even possible?

“How long do I have to stay until we’re even?”

“Until your glittery goodness cleans off the black that smothers my reputation.”

“I hate cleaning.”

He smiled at the passion in her voice. “Then I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do the cleaning if you’ll just stand beside me.” He softened his tone and brushed his lips against her ear. “How long have you been back in Rallis Territory? We’ve wasted time. I haven’t felt so...lighthearted...since.” A word he’d never used to describe himself. He glanced up at her glistening branches, her defense against his dark spell. “Though you tempt me to do things I shouldn’t. I’m too dangerous to let loose. Yet, I’ve been around you twice and done just that. You make me dangerous.”

* * * *

After tonight, every newspaper in the Republic would herald the message that a new enchanter mage was on the scene. The Nobles, the sole family to whom she’d ever vowed, had agreed to conceal her from the public eye. When the vow expired, she’d come home to anonymity and kept it, an absolute necessity for the forest people. Edmund had changed the rules on her, and his closeness, his scent of darkness and warmth, was fogging her mind exactly when she needed to stay sharp.

“You’re already plenty dangerous, Edmund Rallis. If I make you more so, then it’s a sure sign we should part ways for good. I’m not one of those girls who likes danger.”

He chuckled softly and then whispered something that sounded like
crickets.

“Hmm.” His sound vibrated through her. “I was unaware that the forbidden forest is where all the safety-inclined girls hang out.”

She looked away and fought to keep her breathing even.

“Unless you have something else to hide, you’re safe enough, Ror.” He nodded at the privileged mages in attendance. “You just became these people’s dearest champion.”

“These people don’t need a champion. They’re rich. They’re powerful. They make the rules to their advantage.”

The crowd’s amused snickers caught her ear. She blinked, startled, and ground to a halt. “The music stopped.” An instant burn ignited in her cheeks. Goddess, the pair of them looked like fools.

She turned her gaze back to him and almost huffed at his expression. From the satisfied gleam in his eyes, he’d heard the song conclude, but had kept her in his arms. Of course he wouldn’t care about looking foolish. He was a prince in this land. He set the trends and blazed the trails while the entire Republic watched. She couldn’t afford to be dragged into his games.

A flash of light sprang from a reporter’s short wand as he recorded their image for his newspaper. Applause smattered around the ballroom in appreciation for their show.

Edmund tucked her hand into his elbow and led her off the floor, stopping ten paces from Senator Rallis. Dear goddess. The senator. And his son. On the other side of her, Edmund’s brother stood with his woman. The pair was unmarried. Instead, they were mated by a weave of power. The entire Republic knew that bit of gossip.

For the moment, the Rallis family seemed content to keep their distance. Aurora looked away. Staring at them would only encourage them to venture closer.

While the nosy crowd pressed closer, a waiter walked up with two glasses of amber liquid. No need to search out the bar. The drinks came to them. Of course, they did. Because that was how life worked for the founding families. Edmund took both glasses as two men in dark gray uniforms, scarlet sashes crossing their chest, took up guard on either side of them. Rallis sentries. The crowd took a collective step back. Privacy under the gaze of the public.

With an easy smile, Edmund handed her a glass. The drink’s sharp scent caught her nose, a blend of heat and spice that kindled memories of kisses in the moonlight. His smile widened. Recognition must have crossed her face. This wasn’t the expensive stuff the crowd would expect.

During their weekend together, he’d poured her a drink of Bare Witch’s Whiskey. In fact, they’d consumed half the bottle. He’d made her coffee over the fire the next morning to soothe away her headache.

She narrowed her eyes, drilling a hole in the memories. “So, what’s it gonna be, Mundie? What does the heir toast to now? Screw the rules, like before? Or is it screw the rest; we’re the best?”

He tipped his head to the side, the answer to her question clear in his face. She supposed it was inevitable, yet he’d broken the rules for her by destroying evidence. He’d protected her…and left her craving more. A dangerous and impossible desire. His arms would become a noose around her neck.

He lifted his glass higher and once again projected his voice so it rang to every mage in the ballroom. “To my earth-bound star who shines her light among the dark.” He touched his glass to hers as the “hear, hears” resounded around them.

The attention smoldered against her skin, though she wasn’t ashamed of the accuracy of his statement. She’d rather glow like the moon soaking up the proud night than sear the darkness like the sun. She held his gaze and downed her drink. The burn slid down her throat, heating the rest of her as well. But he wasn’t done with his toast.

“And to my new mission of keeping you out of trouble.” He kept those words between them.