Shadows gathered at my call, chilling the air and muffling sound. Magic was everywhere, energy flowing through the world after the tremors. But Majekah was personal, shaped by each mage. Mine was stealth. Darkness. It fit my plum-purple gaze too well.
I slipped into the gloom between rusting BT weights and ropes, eyes flooded with magic.
Her.
The woman my lover tethered.
Resentment stabbed through me. A tether, given freely, was the deepest vow: a man bound to a woman’s emotions, her health, her very location—until death. He’d chosen her. Not me. My lover and I could never tether. Two men left only silence. It wasn’t her fault. But my gut still burned.
She trembled as she pulled the cables, arms thin, frame swallowed by black spandex and a pink shirt. Sweat streaked her brow. She grunted,dropped the weights, and fumbled for another dumbbell. Her form was terrible. After a handful of shaky reps, she stopped.
“What am I doing?” she muttered.
While others partied, she worked. Maybe that was why he chose her. Respect edged out my bitterness.
With a thought, the cauldrons in the corners flared to life, flooding the room in plum light.
She shrieked, covering her eyes. “How’d you do that?”
Not who are you. Not what do you want. Just how. Bold. Curious. Another surprise.
More respect eased my resentment. My lover acted with his heart. It was possible he saw something I didn’t.
“I pushed my magic into the liquid, and it bubbled,” I answered.
She removed her hand and blinked at me, her eyes still adjusting. Her simple green eyes were unlike any I’d ever seen. “The mist that lights everything is actual liquid?”
I grunted.
Jealousy curled again. My lover lay unconscious because of her, and she barely grasped how this world worked.
Quinn frowned, her hand coming up and disappearing into thin air, only to reappear with a small white towel between her fingers. She wiped down her neck and face.
I narrowed my eyes. She couldn’t turn on the lights, but she could open a mini dimension in space to draw out a towel.
Who was this woman?
Quinn turned to me and flushed. “What? It’s normal here, right?” She put the towel back into her void. “I didn’t do anything weird.”
“You didn’t,” I said, not understanding her sudden defensiveness.
She glared at me. “What are you doing here?”
I looked around the room filled with weights. “I lift weights.”
Her flush turned the color of a tomato. “Right. Sorry. I’m avoiding someone. And trying to be like someone else at the same time.” She looked ready to sink through the floor. “I’m going to shut up now.”
I found I didn’t want her to shut up. “Who do you want to be like?”
She gave me a sheepish look. “The pit fighter. I don’t know her name.”
There was only one female pit fighter in all of Edinburgh. With our plans to expand beyond the castle, my lover had persuaded her to join us. She was a force of nature, a good role model for any woman. Although she was a trainee now, I expected her to fly through our program and make my five commanders six within the year.
I slipped off my shirt.
Quinn bit her lower lip, and let her gaze wander across my newly exposed skin.
Her blatant attention was harder to ignore than I expected. I found myself flexing my six-pack without conscious thought and growled in annoyance. “I’m a combat mage; it’s not for looks.”
