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“It’s boring.”
“Not to me—and they’re my lessons.”
He turned his gaze to me, amused. “I already have your lesson planned.”
“Why does that sound kinky?”
He slid his palm along my thigh under the table. “We could do that too. I’m certain you’d be an apt pupil for some of the games I have in mind.”
“No, thank you.” I tried to sound prim, but my breath accelerated.
“You break my heart, cruel Gwynn.”
“Or something lower,” I retorted. “So what’s the lesson?”
“Observe and learn, young student of mine.”
He laid his hand palm up on the table, clearly expecting me to take it. As soon as I did, his magic began looping out of him, in great swirling waves of blue and black. I expected astonished comments, but no one else noticed. Except Darling, sprawled by my plate, tail draped affectionately over my wrist, who watched the tendrils as he would a tasty bird. His claws flexed in preparation.
“Don’t touch,” I warned him, and he flicked innocent eyes at me. Rogue seemed to be deep in concentration as the room filled, with the blue-black miasma settling over everyone but our little trio.
“There.” He murmured it in satisfaction.
People still talked, laughed, enjoyed their dinners, but something had shifted in their voices. The room looked like we were underwater. Sparkling fish in a crazed aquarium of Rogue’s making.
“What did you do?” It was both like and unlike what he’d done to the dragonfly girl. Only this was somehow general, where that had been specific and immaculately precise.
He smiled inscrutably and released my hand to drink from his goblet, spoke for my ears alone. “Wait. Watch. I’m interested to see if you can detect it.”
Feeling like a grad student being grilled by one of my professors again, I studied the room, the conversations. Despite the whole underwater thing, it all seemed as before.
Then I noticed it. All the conversations were crystal clear. None of what they said carried the muddiness that social interactions usually did—the polite nonsense, the veiled insults, the sly innuendo. Instead they all said exactly what they meant.
“A truth spell?” I whispered into his ear, vaguely disappointed. “Isn’t that kind of…prosaic?”
He snorted. “And how would you do it?”
He had a point. Wishing a physical thing into a different form required fairly straightforward visualization. Requiring a person to speak the truth—arguably a very subjective thing—would be quite a bit more convoluted.
“How did you do it?”
“You can grill me later. You’d best ask your questions now, before the party falls apart.”
There were several arguments brewing. One pair of ladies looked daggers at each other and I wondered who had made the snarky remark first.
“I really only needed to talk to Blackbird—you needn’t have bespelled the entire room.”
He grinned. “I like showing off for my pretty consort.”
Now I snorted, but the remark pleased me.Sucker. Fortunately Blackbird sat just to the other side of Rogue, well within conversational distance.
“I’d hoped to meet your husband tonight, Lady Blackbird.” I pretended to scan the table. “Is he here?”
Starling, on my right, across from her mother, looked up, eyes wide. Hopefully she wouldn’t blow it by chickening out.
“Oh no, Lady Sorceress Gwynn. He’s—” She stopped herself, frowning. Likely puzzled at what she’d been about to blurt out. “He’s off on a quest.”
“Oh yes? And what is he looking for?”
