Wedding Bells, Magic Spells (30 page)

I swore.

Dust began to fall along with chunks of stone, and the fireball I clutched in my hand suddenly grew heavy, the flickering lights solidifying into what looked like molten lava.

Lava. Liquid rock.

And I couldn’t use it unless I dropped the shields protecting us. Shields were good against spells, not tons of falling rock. I dropped the shields and screamed in terror and rage as I thrust my hand and the fireball it held toward the fractured ceiling, pushing with everything I had, willing the liquid fire I’d created into the cracks as I created more and still more lava, filling every fissure in the room and the hall beyond, visualizing the lava cooling, solidifying, becoming part of the ceiling and walls, stopping the collapse.

I was gasping, panting, and tasting blood. It was either a result of taking an elbow to the jaw, or I’d just ruptured something. My vision grew dark, and I felt myself falling. Slender arms went around me, supporting me and holding me up.

Edythe.

I must have passed out for a moment. When I came to my senses, I was utterly spent, my head lying back against Cuinn’s shoulder; his arms were around both me and Edythe. We all looked at the ceiling, at the lava that filled the cracks, cooling, fading from orange to black, and solidifying, becoming part of the rock itself. The fracturing stopped, the rock ceased to fall, and the dust settled.

I leaned against a cask while Cuinn checked the door. The stone
archway the door was set into had been cracked and my lava had mended it off-kilter. That door wasn’t opening anytime soon, and even if it did, there was a pile of rock outside. I’d seen it in my mind’s eye while I’d worked. Actually, while the Saghred and I had worked.

It hadn’t been ready to die yet. That was good, because neither had I.

“Things are probably under control upstairs by now,” I said between breaths. “They’re looking for us. It shouldn’t take them long. Mychael knows that wherever the explosion is, chances are that’s where I am.”

I looked around, seeing for the first time where we’d ended up. It wasn’t just a room with some wine; it was a wine cellar. A very nice wine cellar. I carefully removed the closest bottle from a shelf and brushed back a thin layer of dust. I read the label, and even more carefully, put the bottle back.

“I’d say we’re in the middle of Justinius Valerian’s private stock.”

Cuinn glanced around. “Unbelievable. Nothing’s broken.”

I would have happily sacrificed even the two-hundred-year-old bottle of Mhetil Caesolian red that I’d just carefully replaced in its wooden nest.

“Mychael will be down to unblock the door as soon as he can.” I told them.

“How will he find us?” Edythe asked.

“Did Mychael tell you I’m a seeker?”

“Yes.”

“When it comes to me, your son has a similar talent. He’s in the citadel. We’re in the citadel. It’ll be easy for him.” I tossed a meaningful glance at the rapier Edythe held with a light, professional grip. She’d had to put it down to keep me off the floor, but she’d picked it back up again. “Probably a much easier time than you had keeping that skill of yours a secret from everyone. By the way, that rapier looks familiar.”

“Mago Nuallan tossed it to me. A very nice young man.”

“That he is. Does Brant know he’s married to a swashbuckler?”

Edythe was standing utterly straight and perfectly still, the stance of a practiced and skilled swordswoman. She was half in the shadow of one of the racks of wine, but I saw it.

A very slow smile crept over her lips.

I reached behind me and pulled a bottle out of an open case at my feet.

Rum.

Oh yes.

I didn’t recognize the name or where it’d come from. It was also a fancier bottle than rum usually came in.

The three of us both deserved and needed this. I was sure Justinius would approve of Mychael’s bride, mother, and the elf who would be sealing the Khrynsani rift in his wine cellar partaking in a little refreshment while we waited to be rescued.

I looked around. There was a corkscrew, but no glasses that I could see.

“Do you want a drink?” I asked both of them.

“Want and need,” Edythe actually said.

I looked around some more. “No glasses.”

“No problem,” Cuinn said.

“And no seats.” I shrugged and slid down the delightfully solid wall to the floor, bottle in one hand, corkscrew in the other. When I landed, my skirts poofed around me, skirts that had stayed out of my way and not gotten me killed. Thank you, Alix. Yes, the floor was hard, but I was sitting down and no one would be trying to kill me—at least not for the next hour or two. Hopefully.

I smiled up at them both. “While we wait, why don’t we talk?”

Edythe slid down the wall to sit next to me, the rapier diagonally across her lap within easy reach, if needed. I admired her caution. The rift was closed, but it wasn’t sealed yet.

I waved Cuinn over. “Now’s not the time to be shy. Have a drink with the bride and mother of the groom. You’ve earned the rest of the night off.”

Without glasses, we drank the way friends did—take a sip, pass it down.

“The archmagus keeps a fine cellar,” Edythe said after she’d sipped.

Cuinn took more than a sip and his face contorted.

“Yeah, it’s really strong for rum,” I agreed. “If you’re not used to it, it can be a little much.”

He nodded, then shuddered, but when it was his turn again, he took another, even bigger swig. “That’s all I’m going to have until I get this rift sealed.” He went to the corner and got to work.

Edythe settled herself against the wall and began to talk. Hers was a story that’d been repeated all too often in the aristocracy, minor nobility, merchant class, basically wherever there was money and a family member careless or stupid enough to lose it.

The “careless and stupid” in Edythe’s case had been her younger brother. Her father had been a very successful merchant. Her brother had inherited the money and business. Her brother was a very bad and extremely unlucky gambler.

“Eadweard gambled the house and what was left of the money right out from underneath us. He said he couldn’t lose.” Edythe took another drink. “Well, he did. We all did.”

“I am so sorry.” And I was. It was also a sorry situation that’d caused it. Edythe was the oldest, but just because she was female, the property passed to her younger (and foolish) brother. It wasn’t elven law, but it was elven tradition. In my opinion, it was a tradition that needed to be kicked into the nearest cesspit. Sex or age should have nothing to do with inheritance; it should be concerned with who is the most qualified to manage it.

“Judging from the way you handled that blade,” I ventured, “you did something about it. What was it?”

Edythe’s lips twitched at the corners. “My father thought he was paying for dancing lessons for me. The dancing master he hired
did
teach dancing—but he also taught fencing.”

If we’d had glasses, I’d have clinked mine with hers. Since I only had a bottle, I raised it in salute. “A woman after my own heart.”

“I learned enough dancing to pass inspection, but most of my time was spent with blades.”

“A much more useful skill.”

“My brother had lost the family estate and most of the money. My two younger sisters and I were left with a small town house next to what used to be our family business.”

“The idiot lost that, too?” I winced and backtracked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call your brother an idiot.”

Edythe waved a hand dismissively. “I called him worse; and believe me, he was worse.”

“Was?”

“He couldn’t stop gambling, but he did try to start cheating to win back some of what he’d lost.” She took another drink and passed the rum back to me. “Unfortunately, he was an even worse cheat than a gambler—and even worse than that with a sword.”

“Let me guess, he was one of those who thought a true gentleman didn’t need to fight.”

“Essentially. I, on the other hand, could fight
and
ride. Our town house was next to a stable. The owner had been a dear friend of my father. He loaned me the fastest and most fearless horse he had.” Her eyes held an equal measure of pride and sadness. “I wore a mask and took to the highway. I did what I had to do to survive and provide for my sisters. When I’d taken enough money, I bought back our family business and ran it until my sisters were old enough to run it themselves. Unfortunately, the taxes that year were much more than we’d expected. So I took to the highway again, hopefully for the last time.”

“You met Brant.”

Edythe nodded. “And robbed him. He later told me it was rather thrilling.” She smiled, wistful and warm. “I may have stolen his money, but he stole my heart. He was minor nobility who did courier work for elven intelligence. Apparently I attacked him when he was carrying an especially important packet.” She let out a little laugh. “He said he’d stand, but he wasn’t about to deliver, at least not without a fight.”

“You won?”

“I think he let me. He gave me the money. Then he offered me the ring off his finger, and told me that if I wanted to see him again, to be at the Spring Ball that next month and wear the ring.”

I was grinning like an idiot. “That is
so
romantic. You went to the ball?”

She nodded. “And wore the ring.”

“Why didn’t Mychael tell me this story? I love it!”

“Because he doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“My family background, my circumstances. Neither he nor Isibel know.”

“Why not?”

“Many of the people I robbed have estates around ours.”

“Oooh, that’s awkward.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, I can see why you wouldn’t want Mychael and Isibel playing with the neighbors’ children and telling them about how Mommy and Daddy met—and then having
their
mommies or daddies overhear.” I paused, baffled. “But they’re grown now, why keep it a secret? By the way, only my opinion, but your family is way too fond of keeping secrets from each other.”

“Raine, how do you tell your children that their mother turned to highway robbery to buy back the family business their uncle lost gambling?”

“In my family, that’s called a bedtime story. A good one. It would’ve been our favorite.”

Edythe gave me a little smile. “I do like your family—and you.”

“Really?” I suddenly felt warm all over. Then again, it was probably the rum. This stuff was seriously strong. “I’m so glad.”

“You are not a suitable wife for a noble landowner, and I thank God that you are not. My son is not suited to be a landowner, and with what is coming, I again thank God that he is not.”

“He may not be a landowner, but he is noble.” I didn’t mean aristocratic, and Edythe knew it. Mychael was noble in that he put the needs of others above his own and he fought for the greater good.

“Yes, he is,” she said quietly. “And you are the perfect wife for such a man.”

I couldn’t help it, and didn’t even try. I didn’t just smile, I beamed. “Thank you, Lady Eilie—”

Edythe held up an imperious finger. “Edythe. I insist.”

I nodded. “Edythe. Mychael said that when you insist, there’s no fighting it.”

“My son has grown to be a very wise man.”

“He would say that he’s merely a strategist who knows how to pick his battles against a superior opponent.” The bottle felt suspiciously light in my hand. I took a look. Empty. “That bottle went way too fast.”

I heard what sounded like a snore from Cuinn’s end of the wall. Edythe and I leaned forward and looked over. The elf mirror mage was curled happily against a cask, either sound asleep or marginally unconscious. The rift wasn’t glowing and the wall looked solid, the way a wall should look. Asleep or unconscious, whatever it was, Cuinn Aviniel deserved the rest.

*

When someone started pounding on the door, I thought I was
going to die. But when they started shouting, I knew they were going to die, because I was going to kill whoever it was if they didn’t stop.

Though first I had to remember how to stand up.

It took entirely too long to get the door open, with entirely too much noise.

Cuinn slept through all of it.

“We only drank a little.” I was barely whispering. Heck, even moving my lips hurt. If I’d spoken any louder, I was fairly sure my head would explode.

Mychael was there, along with Brant, Justinius, Vegard, and Phaelan.

My eyes were squinting against the glow of a single lightglobe, but I couldn’t miss Justinius Valerian’s eyes going wide at the sight of the empty bottle I held in my hand. Edythe held the other empty. It was the first time I’d seen that particular expression on his face.

Awestruck.

“The rum in the case next to the cask?” he managed.

“Yes, and it was delicious.”

“
Two
bottles?”

I blearily glanced down. “It appears that way.” I tried to look at Edythe. “Is yours empty?”

Michael’s mother held up the bottle in front of her face. “To the last drop.” She sounded proud of herself and slightly pained.

Justinius was aghast. “And you’re still standing?”

“This shelf I’m leaning against is helping
a lot,
” I admitted.

Phaelan shouldered his way to the front. “What was it?”

“The label said rum,” Edythe told him.

“It was a really pretty bottle,” I added, handing him the empty.

Phaelan saw the label and gasped. Another first.

“This is legendary,” he managed. “It’s not supposed to actually exist.”

“It exists, all right,” Justinius told him. “And I have two cases.”

Edythe grinned. “Minus two bottles.” She draped an arm across my shoulders and I gratefully leaned away from the shelf, which seemed to be moving, and into her. Fortunately a large cask was holding her up, otherwise we’d have both been on the floor. I giggled at the thought.

“You’re only supposed to drink one sip at a time,” Justinius told us.