Chapter 4

Julian

Following the little mortal around becomes tedious fast.

But instead of wallowing in self-pity, I focus on the best part.

Or parts, as it were. Specifically, the two perky globes of his finely shaped bottom. Those and the lean muscles flexing in his shoulders as he hoists himself over a fallen tree trunk.

Yes, those parts are quite nice.

I haven't walked this far in an age. I take portaling for granted and gate anywhere I need to go. In the process, I must have forgotten I had legs because now they ache from the long sunstrides we've traveled since the crack of dawn. Best not to dwell on pain lest it worsen.

Turns out, Cricket is a jumpy creature, all too easily startled, and pricklier than a rose bush. I don't think he slept a wink. He's been in a terrible mood today, even though the weather is favorable, the birds are chirping merrily, and there's nary a cloud in the sky.

If anyone should be in a bad mood, it's me.

My magic doesn't work on Cricket, which annoys me to no end. I keep trying. A little zap here, a nudge there. Nothing. He's totally unaffected.

That and we're going south. And though I'd planned to head in this direction, I hate the south with a passion more fiery than a cornered pogglewump.

And no, I didn't make them up, even if Cricket thinks I did. They're as real as nillyslugs, but far more vicious, with three upper rows and two bottom rows of fanged teeth and breath that would wake the dead and make them beg to return to their coffins.

I've never let one get close enough to bite off a finger, but nobody needs to know the real story but me.

Cricket is an ass for asking.

And we've come full circle. Back to Cricket's ass, which bounces ahead of me as if to say, "Yes, I know you're staring. You can look, but you can't touch."

Yet my mood is light despite my grievances. I'm within spitting distance of the coin I've been searching for. All I need to do is convince Cricket to hand it over. I'm clever, resourceful, and persistent, so it's only a matter of time.

To distract myself from the walking, I use my magic to search for edible plants. It requires complicated spellwork I developed from scratch, thus the skill brings a pleasant swell of pride each time I use it. Already I've collected four plums and a bag full of various nuts and seeds for whenever my cattle driver of a guide deems it time for a break.

Which I'm beginning to think will never happen, and as I'm sensing sweet sucker berries not far off the trail, it's best to take matters into my own hands. "Cricket, wait."

"Why should I?" he snaps from a dozen paces ahead, a stubborn distance he insists on by adjusting his pace if I get too close.

So rude.

But sharing is caring or some such, and I intend to win him over. "Aren't you hungry?" Other than some hard bread this morning, he hasn't eaten anything all day, and the sun is already sliding toward the horizon.

"It can wait until we camp."

We.

Inwardly, I chuckle. He's adapting to my presence, whether he wants to or not. "You'll regret not stopping when my belly is full of delicious berries and yours isn't."

"Berries?" A hopeful note lilts his rough voice. Now I've got his attention.

"Indeed, follow me."

His expression twists with reluctance, but he does come. "What kind of berries?"

I ignore him and concentrate on the location. Casting my magic in all directions at once, then narrowing the scope to find food requires focus. I don't expect someone like Cricket to appreciate my skill so much as I expect him to be quiet and let me work.

He follows me much closer than he's allowed me to follow him, both of us picking our way through the shrubs and brambles of the underbrush.

"Are you sure about this?"

I shush him.

My magic leads us to a huge overgrown bush of sucker berries, bright pink, plump, and bursting with sweet juice I can almost taste by looking. My mouth waters.

"My favorite!" Cricket eagerly scampers ahead. Luckily, I find I don't so much mind being behind him. That view doesn't get old.

Sucker berries are roughly the same size and shape as peanut shells. They come in green, pink, and red. If you're a sweet tooth, like me, the trick is to suck the soft, juicy inner flesh from the thick leathery skin. The skin is edible, though it's bitter. I tend to discard it, but others claim eating both at once is the perfect balance of sweet and sour.

Let them have it. Bleh.

By the looks of it, Cricket feels the same as I do. He wraps his lips around the fruit, bites a hole, and sucks, cheeks caving in. His lids flutter shut in pleasure. The picture he makes is utterly decadent. I have to turn away lest I embarrass myself staring.

While he stands there eating them one by one, I summon a basket and begin to fill it.

"How d'ya know these were here?" he asks, mouth obscenely full.

I wiggle the remaining fingers on my right hand, bringing a burst of orange sparks dancing around my palm. "Magic."

He arches his brows. "Glad to see it works for a useful purpose."

I flick my hand at him, and orange sparks shine and fizzle out before reaching their target.

His hand flies to his chest, where he keeps the coin. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to set you on fire."

"Don't."

"I can't."

"Good."

Frowning, I choose not to bicker further, though another response floats readily to my tongue. Not worth it. He doesn't care.

And I plan to have a rest. A sitting rest, as in a pause to all this infernal traipsing around we've been at for hours on end. I'm in no hurry to go farther south with its pit of humid air, nest of nefarious guildsmen, and host of bad memories. I need that coin before I'll be ready to tackle what waits for me there.

I scan our surroundings. The forest is young and overly dense, but the remains of older fallen behemoths lie nearby. Any one of them would make a good spot to park my bottom and take the weight off my aching feet.

I summon a small satchel for Cricket's use, a peace offering, and hand it over. "Collect your fill and come sit."

He takes the bag with only a brief hesitation, a look of surprise flashing across his lovely features, and sets to work picking berries. Hating him would be easier if he weren't so attractive.

I head off without waiting. He'll follow, or he won't, but I'm going to fall over if I don't sit soon.

An old cedar, long since downed and beginning to rot, is calling my name. A thick layer of moss covers the bark. I regret that my breeches will surely be dirty after this, but I sit anyway. The dead tree still emits a strong, woody scent. Notes of citrus. Altogether a pleasant smell.

A little picnic will be nice. I summon a serving tray, then deposit the contents of my bag of nuts and plums plus the basket of sucker berries on top. I could provide mugs, wine, and bread, but I don't want Cricket to know that. We'll have to make do with this.

"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 at nine years 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?"

I wrestle my thoughts back to the present. "Teach you magic?"

He nods, face solemn for once. Cricket would likely make a good pupil. He's tough. Independent. Clever enough.

"I certainly could…" The statement lingers between us, swelling as we consider the possibility.

"But?"

"Not for free."

His shoulders sink. "Let me guess. The payment is only one coin."

"Precisely."

"No way."

"Pity." Of course nothing is ever so easy. Not for me. "It would make an excellent solution. You'd get to develop your magic a great deal under my tutelage. I'd get the object I desire." And I'd have what I need to continue farther south. "You should think about it."

Cricket presses his palm over his chest again. "I'm not giving you the coin."

"Then I can't help with your magic."

"Why do you need it so bad? What do you know about the coin that I don't?"

I chuckle. "Many things, most of which you've given me no reason to reveal."

He huffs.

We clean up our meal and return to the path.

Oh good.

More walking.