Page 80 of A Bolt of Magic

“They sure are,” I say, using my magic to start the fire. “Like a blanket of stars on a moonless night.”

The fire catches, sending dancing shadows across the walls and warming the cool air. I begin unpacking our supplies while Kian sets down his pack near the fire, together with his coat.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I need to get out of these wet clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, already pulling his sodden tunic over his head.

I freeze, my hands stilling on the dried meat I was unwrapping. He’s so casual about it, so comfortable in his own skin; that much is clear since he doesn’t think twice about changing in front of me.

But sweet Kakara preserve me, the sight of him strips away what little composure I have left.

His torso is magnificent, from his broad shoulders that taper to a narrow waist to his muscles that speak of years of hard physical labor. The royal marking covers the left side of his chest, the intricate design even more striking in the firelight. When he bends to rummage through his pack, the play of muscle beneath his skin makes my mouth go dry.

Then he’s unlacing his wet breeches, sliding them down those powerful thighs, and I have to force myself to look away before I do something mortifying like stare at the impressive bulge outlined by his braies.

Goddess, but I am in trouble. I feel hot all over, like my skin is too tight for my body.

I’ve been with a male before. It was a brief dalliance that left me wondering what all the fuss was about. But this…this is something else entirely. This is want so sharp it’s almost painful, desire that makes my heart race like I’ve been running from hywolves. I have a feeling that it would be different with Kian. It would be everything I ever dreamed of. Even better than when I touch myself. I feel throbbing from between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together, but if anything, it is worse than before.

So I busy myself with building up the fire instead, adding wood with unnecessary precision while trying to get my breathing under control. The sound of fabric rustling behind me, of Kian pulling on dry clothes, seems unnaturally loud in the cave’s stillness.

“Much better,” he says finally, and I risk a glance back to find him fully dressed in clean breeches and a fresh tunic. His damphair is tousled, falling across his forehead in a way that makes my fingers itch to smooth it back.

“This is good,” I manage, looking down at the blazing fire, proud that my voice sounds relatively normal. “The fire should dry our wet things quickly enough.” I hope so since I have chosen to stay in mine. Although my borrowed coat has done well enough to keep my torso dry.

We settle down to eat our simple meal of dried meat, fruits, and hard cheese, the crackling fire providing much-needed warmth.

“I am interested to know something,” Kian says, breaking the silence.

“What is it?” I ask, intrigued.

“Do your menfolk have magical ability? We’ve always spoken of a coven of witches, but there are children, so it seems reasonable to say that there are men, too. I take it that they are not human?”

“Heavens, no.” I laugh. “Sorry. It is a good question. You are right to ask. We consider ourselves to be witches…all of us…the men, as well.”

He frowns. “I thought that a witch was a feminine term.”

“A witch is a being or species. The women of our kind happen to mostly hold the stronger magic. That is why we also rule. And why you know us as feminine. The strongest of our men are often referred to as wizards in the rest of the realm, but powerful male witches are rare. Most of our males, just like you emptyfae, have magic with little or no access to it.”

“How interesting,” Kian says.

“The only beings more powerful than a witch are conjurers,” I tell him, taking a bite of my cheese.

“They are the worst of the worst. Conjurers have changed since Snow took over.”

“You’re right,” I say.

“They used to be extremely powerful, but still just regular fae. You saw that conjurer the other day…the veins all over him. Snow has somehow found a way to twist and corrupt magic itself. She’s started using them for her own evil plans. We’re not even sure how they are made.”

“Made?” I frown. “I thought that they were born.”

“Not this new breed of conjurers. It’s evil magic that pollutes. I heard from the others that more and more of them are being spotted all over the realm. They have those black veins. They are doing her bidding.”

I shiver in revulsion as I think of the one we encountered not all that long ago.

I take a drink from my skin, watching Kian as he eats. I feel the weight of tomorrow pressing down on us. The reality of what we’re walking into. As always, my stomach churns at the thought, working its way into knots. The food tastes like mud.

“Kian,” I begin hesitantly, putting down my food and swallowing thickly. “I need to try one more time to talk you out of this foolishness. What we’re doing tomorrow…it’s dangerous. More dangerous than I think you realize. You coming with me is…it’s insane, is what it is.”

His green eyes meet mine across the firelight, steady and resolved. “I know the risks, McColl.”

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