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She offered no resistance when he led the way into the cave, but her hand held a little tighter to his as the light around them dimmed. The opening was enough to allow them to see without having to infuse the space with more disruptive magic, but not so much that there was no risk of stumbling over loose rocks that had fallen to the cavern floor. It wasn’t an issue for him, with his magically enhanced vision, but Rochelle hadn’t caught on to that skill. So he kept her close as they slowly moved deeper into the empty space.
His gaze was quickly drawn to the vacant space, now surrounded by numerous fallen boulders of varying sizes, where Rochelle had been tied and crumbled when he’d last made entry into the cave. Blood still dotted the ground, physical proof of her suffering there.
Aric lifted his gaze up, studying the rock wall, and slowly looked around. He remembered Denham had set a trap before to distract him, a trap that had triggered the partial collapse of the cavern wall above Rochelle’s head. But a scan of the space didn’t reveal any indications of secondary triggers. Not to him, at least. “Look at the walls and the floor,” Aric said. “Are you able to see signs of any traps we should be wary of?”
She didn’t respond immediately, instead slowly looking around, even up at the ceiling overhead. “Not that I know what a trap might look like,” she said, “but I don’t think so. The most suspicious thing I can see is that cleared-away area around the firepit.” She pointed as she talked, indicating the space where the portal flame had been.
Aric frowned. He remembered the turquoise flame, remembered the way it had flared and seemed to consume half the cave before zapping out of existence and taking Denham with it. He knew what she was referring to, but he couldn’tseeit. To his eyes, even when he infused them with his usual magic overlay, all he saw was more rubble. As if the fire had caused a small collapse in the back corner. That was exactly the opposite of how Rochelle had described the space. “You see a clear area around a distinguishable firepit?”
Her arm dropped and she turned enough to tilt her head up to him. “You can’t see it?”
“No.” Which meant that Denham had some intention of retaining this cave. If he’d abandoned it outright, he would have actually destroyed all the evidence it contained. “Guide me.”
Rochelle drew in a sharp breath, as if startled by the request, then took a step forward and deliberately pulled him along with her. She adjusted their course only slightly, at one point stumbled over a rock that was apparently not part of the illusion, and finally came to a stop with the toes of her boots half obscured by images of crumbled rock that were clearly false. She pointed again, this time her arm angled mostly down, and said, “The pit is here. I don’t know how to help you see through whatever illusion is masking the space, but we’re standing in the clear area now.”
Aric narrowed his eyes at the scene deceiving him. Passive abilities could not be sealed and therefore could not be fooled. It was the same reason he could communicate so fluently to whomever he met, but that didn’t mean there was no kind of active magic that could help. He only needed to know what was required of him. So he cleared his mind for a moment and drew on his magic, focusing the power into his senses. He blended energy, matter, and soul magics together until they became a unique thing, then let the heightened power settle over him.
“Wow,” Rochelle said. “I actually saw your circle for a full second.”
His lips twitched. He was well aware that his magic circle didn’t visually manifest as often as most. A circle only appeared when the sorcerer was using a proportionately large amount of their magic or a spell—or combination—they were less familiar with. He made a habit of using a variety of magic whenever possible, thereby reducing the times his circle would reveal itself. If his magic circle didn’t manifest, his opponent was less likely to see what hit them.
His flicker of amusement fled as the illusion Denham had left behind shattered before him. The image of rocks sitting atop Rochelle’s feet vanished, proving her right. They stood in the center of a wide, circular clearing within the cave. Such a perfect circle around the defined firepit, in fact, that Aric doubted it had been kept free of debris by accident. The pit itself seemed unremarkable at first glance. It was a circle of rocks around a slight, but visible indent in the ground. But there was no ash, no half-burnt logs, no embers or coals—nothing like that filled the center of the firepit.
Aric took a half-step closer and crouched down. The center of the pit was liquid. It wasn’t as thin as pure water, but indisputably a substance more liquid than solid. And it contained trace amounts of magical energy.A vessel.
“What … is that?” Rochelle asked. She stood behind him, not seeming to want to get too close.
“This is the key to Denham’s transportation spell,” Aric said. He didn’t know the type of substance, or how the spell worked, but he was sure of that much. He held out one hand over the motionless puddle, barely able to feel the radiating warmth of the magic it contained. He wanted to scan it, to see how it worked, to understand it. He wanted to open this apparently functioning portal and follow it back to its source.
But if any of that went wrong, he was putting Rochelle at risk. He wasn’t keen on the idea of taking her with him through the mysterious gateway. Especially if Denham expected him to try that tactic.
“I think I remember how he kept it active,” Rochelle said. “I don’t know if there was more to getting it started, but he would just sporadically feed a shot of pure mana into it. Like adding wood to a fire. I definitely had the impression that was how he was keeping whatever spell it was open.”
Aric looked up at her, finding she’d crept closer and was leaning partly over his shoulder to peer into the pit. “Are you suggesting I open it?”
She met his gaze. “Isn’t that what you want to do?”
He bit back a smile. She understood him far too well, apparently. She had no idea how dangerous that made her. He kept all of that to himself and stood, pulling her upright and slightly away from the suspicious pit. “That is what I want to do,” he admitted. “But I’m not willing to risk you to do it. We’ll go back home, where you’ll be safe, and I’ll grab Darnel. A witness with a pristine reputation will come in handy, I think.”
Her lips curved down in a frown that made him want to kiss her without a care for their surroundings. “I agree that a respected witness could be beneficial,” she said. Her tone was cautious, and he didn’t need enhanced sight or any level of personal understanding of her to guess what would follow. “But I’m not about to let you leave me behind like some fragile porcelain princess. I’ve been through a lot and I’ve survived it all. I want to come with you.” She drew herself up, squaring her shoulders. “Besides, home is only so safe. Denham has access to that key.”
Aric felt his lip curl. Years ago, he’d put a special seal around that particular entrance of his home, and crafted only two keys capable of unlocking it. One he’d kept for himself, of course, and the other he’d given especially to King Jensen. On occasion the King needed a safe place to retreat from the pressures of his responsibilities, somewhere he could let out a breath or even pace a floor without a dozen sets of watchful eyes judging his every move. Jensen and Aric had built a trust between them, and in the interest of keeping his friend and monarch safe while allowing him some much-needing space, Aric had offered him this solution. It was little more than a brief, relaxed chat most of the time. Once Jensen had fallen asleep on the sofa and slept for over an hour. All of which was fine. The key—the door, the sequestered sitting room—was essentially for the King’s use.
Not Denham’s. That was the first part of this entire situation that had rubbed Aric wrong. Only he’d allowed himself to be distracted with the presumed job that had followed and forget his initial suspicions. Like it or not, Rochelle was right. Home was not safe. Not while he was away, at least.
Her hand settled over his forearm, drawing his focus as she stepped into his personal space. “Whatever’s on the other side,” she said, “the safest place is still next to you.”
Aric exhaled and pulled her flush against him. He pressed his fingers into her hips and held her wide-eyed stare. “Be careful what you say to me, Rochelle. I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself outside the bedroom.”
She licked her lips and laid her hands, lightly, over his chest. “Are you saying you wouldn’t protect me?”
He grinned. “I’m saying you tempt me.” He folded his arms around her, one hand sliding up between her shoulder blades. “Beyond reason.”
“Now who’s flattering whom?” Her question was barely a whisper, her eyes shining to match her sweet smile as he leaned in.
Aric chose to respond by plunging his tongue past her lips and swallowing her resulting moan. It really hadn’t been very long since he’d released her from his arms that morning, and if even his body still ached then he was sure she needed actual rest. In that moment, he struggled to care. It only mattered that she was clinging to his shirt and kissing him back as if she hadn’t had her fill of him any more than he had of her.
He’d never had so much difficulty breaking a kiss in his life. Watching her lick her lips and pant for breath was almost as arousing as the taste of her. He lifted one hand to trail his thumb along the underside of her jaw. He waited until both of them had calmed enough to hear through the blood pounding in their ears. “Of course I’ll protect you,” he said. “In case that was in doubt.”
