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"Because I'm not only here for the spells. I'm here to get a glimpse of the queen." Shelby's body tensed even at the mention of her. What was the queen to him? A slave driver? A cruel ruler disconnected from reality? "All the queens must die."
Ace turned on her heel, pointing her attention at her feet, hoping he'd follow. Two heartbeats of silence passed before she heard the squeak of his boots as he pushed off the polished wood floorboards and headed in her direction. Heat seared her arm as a large hand wrapped around her wrist. She dug her feet into the ground stopping so suddenly that when she turned Shelby's chest aligned with hers.
“Did you just confess your plans to assassinate the queens to me?” he growled, chest rising with a shaky breath. "How can I trust you?"
"The only thing you can trust is that we have a common enemy." She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. His fingers still held her wrist tightly but without cutting off the blood flow.
Shelby's lips parted as he peeled his hand away from her skin finger by finger. Even after he'd let her go she could still feel where he'd gripped her.
"What do you need?"
"A spell that will make me look like anybody else. I can't just mosey into a party looking like this." She gestured toward her scar and her face.
His chin dipped in the slightest nod. The barest acknowledgment, or was it agreement?
Ace watched as he stepped around her and headed right into the spellbinding room. The door opened soundlessly but the light from the large windows in the room spilled out into the hallway. She hurried after him, stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind her.
She'd expected tables and leather-bound journals, pens, and ink stains but what she hadn't expected were the chains or the blood splatter. Bindings for ankles were secured into the floor. She swore if she looked long enough she could see blood stained into the wood grain.
Shelby walked straight past the chains to a pile of journals stacked on top of one another on a large desk at the back of the room. One grimoire alone could give any non-magic wielding person over a hundred spells to use as they saw fit. Which meant there were thousands of spells in front of her.
Not once did he look back at Ace as he sorted through the books until he settled on one. He stood, casting his shadow across the floor, arm outstretched with a red book in hand. She made her way through the room, trying not to look at the shackles for too long.
"Thank you," she whispered, carefully taking the journal in her hand. Power thrummed under the cover. Magic was finally at her fingertips and she needed it. Wanted to feel the pulse of it running through her veins and fluttering over her skin.
"I'm not doing this out of the kindness in my heart." He stared down at the stolen kitchen knife. "And if you really do answer for the gods and you're here to answer my prayers then you have a lot of work to do."
Tension riddled her shoulders and she forced herself not to let her attention drift away. Somehow Shelby could sense that too.
"The chains are the least of my worries," he muttered, lips pulling into a sneer. "Freedom is so much more."
"But not being chained up would be nice too." Ace tried to keep her voice confident, playful even, but everything about Shelby was stern, orderly, and least of all playful. It caused nervousness to bubble up inside of her, taking her right back to her childhood where being the youngest—the least mature in her family—was constantly frowned upon. She forced herself to recognize that she was no longer a child. She told herself that her carefree attitude wasn't always a bad thing and it didn't make her childish.
Shelby stayed close. His tightlipped expression and the still seriousness of his body never changed. It was like the man didn't know how to smile. That was somehow even more intimidating to Ace.
Shoving those feelings aside, Ace let Shelby examine her. Not for the first time, no, this felt too similar to the way he looked at her in the market. He was trying to figure her out. Most days, Ace couldn't figure herself out so she doubted he could come up with any sort of realistic assumption about her so quickly.
"Freedom is more," he repeated, his voice low and serious. "The gods gave you your hardest challenge yet. I don't just want to rid myself of chains; I don't ever want to run again. I don't want to be owned. I don't want to be hunted. I don't want to hide my true nature because you humans can't handle it. I wantmore."
She set the knife down—closer to her than him and clamped her fingers tightly around the journal. She found herself reaching for the gods again. Her first day of silence from all the noise they created in her head and she felt…empty. What was she looking for in their silence? Reassurance that she could make Shelby's prayers come true? Release from this new responsibility? She couldn't be sure.
Ace nodded once. A silent agreement, a weary commitment.
Opening the journal, she could already feel the power of the spells on the pages before she spoke the words. The paper vibrated under her fingers sending a shiver up her arm. Each page had scribbles of words written in sloppy scrolling script. Her eyes scanned the spell, a finger already slipping behind the thin page.
"Here." Shelby stretched an arm over her and began turning pages. He stopped and ran his index finger down the spell before pulling his hand away. When his arm brushed hers he stepped away quickly.
Ace tossed him a dry look over her shoulder before she began reciting the spell under her breath. As she spoke she tore the paper from the book and crumbled it into her palm. Hot tingles chased over her skin. The back of her tongue burned like she was eating a hot pepper instead of reciting a simple spell.
With her eyes squeezed shut she felt the way her hair pulled up and away from her neck, the weight of her clothing transformed from thick fabric around her shoulders to around her waist. The too big boots tightened to conform around her feet, the sharp point of a heel lifting her. Not only that, but her entire body seemed to stretch. Ace knew without a doubt that when she opened her eyes again she'd have an entirely different point of view.
The only things that hadn't changed were her internal monologue—only the worst sort of spells could do that and those were forbidden to anybody but the queens and their highest ranking officials—and the weight of the book she quickly dropped to the floor. She cracked one eye and then the other. Everything in the room was still the same but somehow not. She turned slightly as she adjusted to the height she'd just been given.
"Mirror," she whispered, her new voice foreign to her. "Is there a mirror?"
Heavy footsteps told Ace that Shelby was obliging the request as she stared down at her own hands. Her normally warm brown skin had darkened a few shades, a tone more similar to Shelby's. Her fingers were longer, skinnier even, with long nails filed to a perfect oval shape, and no dirt to be seen underneath them.
Those hands—a stranger’s hands—began to roam over her torso. Wide hips narrowed to a slender waist and up…and up…breasts! Into puberty Ace had been relatively small chested but these things on her now were so massive there was no mistaking her womanhood.
