CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Riding is so much more fun now that we can all talk. Dash is hilarious, telling us all about how he discovered his pooka magic as a baby unicorn playing with the other little ones in his herd.

“I didn’t understand I could ‘travel’ at first because no one else around me had pooka magic.” He turns his head and shoots me a mischievous glance. “But the second I figured it out, I used it relentlessly.”

I laugh, picturing a tiny version of Dash with huge eyes zipping around a bunch of other mini unicorns. My mind almost explodes at the thought of baby unicorns. “You must have been so adorable! I want to see unicorn babies!”

“You like younglings,” Sturrm growls into my ear, his arm tightening around me.

I shiver, my body springing to instant awareness of his behind me.

“Of course!” I say. “You better like kids if you’re going to be a family practitioner.”

“Practitioner? I thought your world no longer had magic.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t mean magic practitioner. It’s the type of medical doctor I wanted to be. The kind the whole family could come to, even the children.”

His deep voice goes soft. “Will you miss not being able to do that on your world?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it much.” It’s true. The thrill of my healing magic kind of overshadowed any thought of who I’d be able to heal. Besides everything that happened with Papi, I want to become a doctor to help the Hispanic community, which is historically underserved in America. It’s one of the reasons I volunteer at a clinic in a poorer section of the city instead of at the fancy university hospital with most of my classmates.

But do I miss the fact that I’d have to keep grinding my way through med school, graduate with a mountain of student debt, and work for years as a resident before ever having my own practice?

Carajo no.

Besides, doctors can’t fix everything. But here, with this magic, I can. I hold my hand up in front of my face, wiggling my fingers. I could have healed Papi. Tears prick my eyes. Then I remember he’d be the first person to tell me it’s amazing that I can make sure no one else loses their father young.

“No,” I say, a sad smile tugging at my lips. “I’m glad to be here, to have this magic. It feels like… I’m finally the person I was always meant to be.”

Sturrm’s arms tighten around me, but he doesn’t say anything, letting me feel what I feel. I like that. I like that a lot. Younger guys would talk, most likely about themselves, but Sturrm has the experience to give me the space I need.

After a few minutes, Dash says, “Well, I know I’m glad for your magic. I’ve never run so far, so fast.”

“I didn’t realize healing that cut on your neck would help you run.”

“I don’t mean that,” he says. “You’re constantly healing me as I gallop. It’s the only reason I’ve been able to go at this speed without more breaks. Especially carrying someone as heavy as an orc.”

Sturrm grunts.

“Huh. I hadn’t realized.” I pat Dash’s neck, my palm tingling a little bit, the connection to my magic obvious now that I touch him with bare skin. My necklace flares, dimming again when I remove my hand from him to lift the crystal up for a better view. It hasn’t gone completely dark—a tiny flicker glows in the center. Closing my eyes, I concentrate, trying to feel my magic. It takes a while. This isn’t the electric sizzle I get when I heal a more acute injury. It’s a subtle background hum, easily ignored because it’s always there, like the sound of an air conditioner you don’t notice until it shuts off.

I go deeper. Maybe I won’t need years of med school to use my magic, but the perpetual student in me still wants to understand it more. Magic radiates from me in… auroras, glistening clouds of power that aren’t really light, but that’s the best analogy I have, so I run with it. It shines white all around me, but when I pull inward near my heart, I start to see different “colors.”

Magic flows from where my body connects with Dash, spreading through his legs and back, which glow orange with the constant strain of muscle fatigue. That makes sense based on what he told me, but I’m surprised to see other threads of power, too. The faintest red light radiates off my back and into Sturrm. I’m healing him just the tiniest bit all the time—probably the muscle strain of him keeping us both seated securely on the galloping unicorn, using only the strength of his legs. Lastly, there’s a red glow all through me that doesn’t extend past my skin. It looks like I’m constantly healing myself as well, which is awesome, because I sure don’t have the right muscles for riding. I kind of wondered why I didn’t get sore when all the stories about learning to ride say it’s painful.

“I’m healing all three of us all the time, and I didn’t even realize it.” I crane my neck to look back at Sturrm. “Did you know?”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

“Maybe because I’m healing you the least.”

“Orcs are strong and built for stamina.”

“ Orcs aren’t the ones doing the running,” Dash says dryly .

“We’re lucky to have you.” I pat his neck, and another zap of extra healing energy flows into him. I leave my hand there and try to be more conscious about my healing, starting with feeling where he needs it. My magic flows through him, streams winding their way back to me, like little diagnostic spells. Dios mio, that’s amazing! His heart needs support to continue to pump at an increased rate for so long. For his muscles, ligaments, and tendons, much of the strain is in his legs, but his back needs healing as well. He’s not joking about how much of a burden it is to carry the two of us.

I concentrate on those areas with the greatest need, focusing my magic instead of sending it evenly throughout his body. He begins to heal even faster.

“Goddess, I don’t know what you just did, but that’s even better,” Dash says.

“I’m trying to take more control of my magic.” I dig my fingers into his coat and give a little scratch. “This is great practice.”

“Be my rider always.” He turns his head to look at me, all playfulness gone from his voice. “I mean it. I will be your mount forever.”

“Oh!” Surprise ripples through me.

Before I can answer, Sturrm growls, “Let her learn more about Alarria, unicorn. She needn’t make promises until she understands the full weight of them.”

He’s right. I know nothing about how things work here. “What consequences would there be in making Dash my mount? ”

“You’d have to listen to him every day,” Sturrm says, his deep voice so perfectly dry it makes me giggle.

“Oh, ha ha,” Dash says. But he doesn’t sound truly upset.

I settle back into Sturrm’s embrace, trying to picture a life like this, riding with these two, off on important quests, healing people everywhere we go.

Got to say, I don’t hate it.

We travel late into the evening, so that night is a rush of setting up camp and eating the food Sturrm had in his pack. Super tired, I crawl into the tent, happy to sleep on cushioning furs. It isn’t until morning that I realize Sturrm didn’t join me.

Our travel the next day is full of conversation as I learn more about this new world and how its inhabitants are a mix from all the realms of Faerie, each carefully chosen by the Moon Goddess.

“No one knows how she chooses,” Sturrm says with a shrug that moves the arms holding me. Then he growls, “It’s not all good. She brought the sluagh and the ogres here.” His muscles tighten as he says that, his body thrumming with anger.

“There are good things, too. Unicorns and pooka don’t even come from the same realm,” Dash says. “I would never have been born if she hadn’t brought both sets of my ancestors here. And that would be a true loss. ”

I laugh along with Dash, and Sturrm’s muscles relax as we continue to ride along.

When we finally stop for the evening and make camp, everything’s better now that Sturrm has all of his supplies. Besides the tent and lots of furs, there’s cooking equipment. Camping rough gets an upgrade to camping, though with the magic of the cleaning cloth, glow stones, and fire stones, maybe I should go right ahead and say we’re glamping. Especially when Sturrm cooks me a meal of pheasant with blackberry sauce accompanied by curly green fiddleheads sautéed until they’re tender.

I polish off another bite, the slight gaminess of the bird perfectly offset by the sweet-tart sauce. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“As one of the king’s guard.” He adds another stick to the fire, which leaps, light reflecting off the nearby tree trunks of the small glen. “We spent much of the year traveling from one orc village to the next, so King Aldronn can keep in touch with his people. In each village, we’d eat the food of the best cooks, and on the trail in between, we had to feed ourselves. The contrast in quality was often glaring.” His lips twitch.

I like him like this, talking and comfortable.

“After a while, I realized I had years of such unsatisfactory meals in front of me unless I did something about it, so I started paying attention to the cooks in the villages. Now I carry extra spices with me whenever I travel. It’s well worth it.”

“Especially when you’re not the one doing the carrying.” Dash lifts his head from where he’s grazing the underbrush .

“The spices weigh almost nothing.” Sturrm bites into a drumstick, his tusks tearing off large chunks.

“It’s true nothing else compares to you, orc.”

Sturrm’s eyes narrow at the phrase that’s normally a compliment but isn’t in this context.

The unicorn whinnies a laugh, the firelight catching on the golden grooves of his horn.

I grin, soak up the last of the blackberry sauce with the heel of my bread, and pop it into my mouth with a satisfied sigh. “This was amazing. Thank you.”

Sturrm offers me one of the special berries he carries in his pack.

A tingle of magic fills my mouth, along with a sweet minty taste as I chew. “What are these?”

“Tooth cleaning berries. They’ve been imbued with the magic of the cleaning stone, just like the cleaning cloths.”

“This place really is magical.” I roll my seating log closer to the fire and rub my bare arms. It’s getting a little colder each day as we climb into the mountains, and I wish I had on long sleeves.

After wiping his hands an extra time, Sturrm pulls a piece of leather from his pack. His eyes flicker over me as he spreads it across his lap and slides his palms over it. Those big, strong hands stroke the supple brown material, and a whisper of magic sings in the air. Over and over, they work the leather until it flows and joins into a new shape.

“It’s a jacket!” A me-sized one!

A rusty chuckle rumbles from him, and he smiles.

Ay! I love that smile .

Instead of handing it to me, he crouches behind me to hold it up so I can slip my arms into the sleeves. He slides it the rest of the way on, his hands cupping my shoulders as he positions it. Pausing like that, he continues to hold me as another wave of his magic ripples through the leather. The section over my breasts loosens from too tight to a comfortable snugness. The arms about an inch too long shorten to the perfect length. A dozen little alterations flow through the leather until it fits me exactly.

His hands fall from my shoulders, and he sits back on his heels. “How’s that?”

“Utter perfection!” I smooth my hands down the buttery leather. “This is the nicest piece of clothing I’ve ever owned.”

He gives his pleased grunt and returns to his seat.

This big grump scowls at the world, but he’s got to be one of the most thoughtful men I’ve ever met. He saw I was cold and did something to fix it. And he didn’t try to talk it up and make it a big deal to impress me. He simply did what needed to be done with that calm competency he has. It’s sexy as hell.

Comfy in my new jacket, I ease away from the fire a bit. Night’s fully fallen, leaving everything outside the glow of the firelight dark, but the light reflecting off the circle of trees around us makes it feel like we’re in our own little bubble. “Sing for me? Or play your guitar. Whichever you want. I’d love to hear you.”

Sturrm picks up his guitar case and pulls out the instrument. I know nothing about guitars, but I can still tell it’s lovely, the body a rich golden wood, the hourglass shape elegant. His big hands caress its curves with expert attention, and I wish they touched me in exactly that same way.

His fingers pluck at the strings, and the sound fills the glen. It’s warm and rich and intimate, wrapping around me like a hug.

Then he starts to sing, his deep baritone vibrating with emotion.

My mouth drops open. Dios mio! Sturrm typically doesn’t let much show but grumps and scowls, but this… It’s as if everything he suppresses all day now bursts from him, showing the true man at the heart of him.

A man who feels greatly.

A man I want more than ever.