AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If that’s the case, why does Marrok know?
“He’s not wrong.” Bram sneaks up on us, his artfully mussed hair looking as if he just stepped from a salon. His blue suit fits as if it were made for him. “But neither of you are exactly human, are you?”
Marrok pulls at Bram’s suit coat. “We have arrived. Now, keep your part of the bargain and tell me what you know of that bloody symbol.”
“In good time.” Bram grabs a glass of champagne from a passing tray and passes it to me with a smile. Then he takes hold of my free hand and lifts it to his lips. “You look incredible, Olivia. Red is definitely your color.”
Marrok snatches my hand back, tucking it in his. “If you wish to keep all your appendages attached to your body, do not touch her again.”
Bram grins like he knows a secret. “Of course. Feeling possessive of a new mate is to be expected, especially one so lovely.”
Mate? Does he mean in the British “we’re friends” sense? The context of his statement and my very intimate relationship with Marrok seem to suggest otherwise. Wait, Bram isn’t using that word in the wife sense, right?
Chapter Thirty-One
“If I look so lovely, why is everyone staring?” I mutter. “They have been since we arrived.”
Bram’s gaze turns a cunning blue. “Besides the fact you’re gorgeous, you’re Le Fay, an incredible bloodline most believed to be long dead. Right now, they’re all wondering how powerful you’ll be once you transition and exactly where I found you.”
Suddenly, I understand he’s cultivated a friendship with me for reasons I can only guess at. I better not make the mistake of underestimating him again.
Marrok grabs Bram by the throat. “She is not a conversation piece.”
“That wasn’t my intention, but…”
I love that Marrok wants to protect me, but he isn’t helping. “Let him go. People are only staring more.”
With a huff, he does. But his pissed-off is on full display.
“Transition?” I ask Bram. “Marrok says I’ll be magical. Is that true?”
“Very much so.”
That still sounds insane. “What will I be able to do? More than pull a rabbit from a hat, I guess.”
“Far more, but what precisely depends on you. Magic is individual. Every witch or wizard is born with basic powers to perform small tasks. Increased ability begins developing rapidly before transition. The big stuff comes afterward.”
“Basic powers?”
“You should already be able to conjure or bewitch small items, teleport from one place to another—day-to-day stuff—once you train up. At transition, your powers will truly develop. They’ll vary widely, based on a few factors. The power that comes from your bloodline is critical. But magic also depends on your intent and passion. If you’re an exceptionally gifted witch, you’ll have the ability to perform difficult spells, but unless you truly mean that and want the outcome with everything in your body, you’ll fail. The more difficult the task, the more you must desire the outcome.”
In a weird way, that’s like real life. People who succeed at anything persist because it means everything to them. “You said the ‘big stuff’ comes later. What does that mean? Doesn’t everyone have the same powers?”
“Think of it this way: when you were in school, some kids were good at math, others good in sports, and yet others excelled at, say…dancing.” He smirks at Marrok. “Some kids might have been good at more than one skill, even, right?”
“Sure. Dancing and sports, I’m there. Math…not so much.”
Bram laughs. “Magic is the same way. Some people have magic of the heart, like my Aunt Millie. My sister, Sabelle, is good at many things. Pot-stirring comes to mind,” he grouses good-naturedly. “She has excellent magical battle skills, but don’t tell her I said that. She’s a walking internet of magical history, but she also possesses amazing domestic magic. Food is always perfect. The house is always spotless. She can make or repair almost anything. It’s very handy, and one reason I keep her around.”
What he’s saying… It’s a lot to take in. “Marrok tells me I’ll transition at twenty-five. So I have to wait until then to know what kind of magic I have?”
“I’m afraid so. But then you’ll learn the special magic you were born to wield.”
“What’s yours?”
He clears his throat. “That’s actually not a polite question in magical circles. If you’re attacked, your special magic can often be your last line of defense. People confide only in those close, never someone they don’t trust and never before the other has proven themselves. Asking someone about their particular magic is a bit like asking how much money one makes in the nonmagical world.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Magickind is new and different. I’ll have to adapt. “What will transition be like?”
