Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Nicolette Jinks
Tags: new adult, Women's Fiction, fantasy romance, Intrigue, shapeshifter, Drake, witch and wizard, fantasy thriller, wildwoods, fairies and dragons
they started their plan to whisk me away to the Wildwoods.”
There was absolute, perfect silence while they tried to decide if I was serious. Was my humor that dry? They seemed to think so. I said simply, “I thought it was best if we let the two of them duke it out. That way we'd just have to take care of the victors.”
Barnes got to his feet and crossed the living room. He opened my french doors. There was the creak of the benches as the other coven members craned to watch. Without flinching, Barnes let out a terrible growl and flung the doors wide.
We joined him.
Beyond his shoulders, my house was trashed, no sign of the intruders. All I could think was my poor plants . My friends turned one by one to stare at me accusingly. I shrugged.
“I hope Lyall is alright. Guess we'll see when we enter the Wildwoods.”
Chapter Three
Chalk scratched against rough bricks laid out in diagonals in my sunroom where the houseplants had been re-potted and had their broken limbs trimmed back. When I shuffled sideways, careful to not disrupt the circular pattern with my knees, I instead smudged symbols with my toes. Already my hands boasted a white coating, and the thighs of my jeans wore finger streaks.
Not far away, my spell book and tutor, Skills of the Thaumaturge , lay open to a spread depicting an even ring with neat runes inside and two concentric circles within. Even with the best I could do, my circles tended to look more like eggs than rounds. Today, the circle bore a striking resemblance to a six-pointed star. Probably because, in an attempt to not be oblong, I had marked out three times the ends of a meter stick, thinking it would be a simple matter to join those marks in one smooth curve. Laughably mistaken in my basic art skills. I stared blankly at the floor.
I rubbed my forehead. It was that stupid letter combined with this hang-over-thing. Magic hangovers. Who knew?
Mordon sunk his thumbs into the knotted muscles of my shoulders, a thing which would have startled me if the fuzzy cloud of feeling blah wasn't thick around me. He rolled his knuckles over my shoulders, then moved my hair, loose for once, to the sides, and stroked my neck. It was the first time he had ever been so casual about touching, and it sent warm tendrils through my body. The brood ring on my finger tightened her tail in a gentle squeeze and began a tiny vibrating purr.
We should kiss more.
It was my fault we didn't. Of course, the court proceedings and all the stress of questioning hadn't set up a mood to invite such things, but still…I shivered. The man knew how to use his fingers. Before I could get mentally carried away on the topic, aforementioned fingers left my neck and seized hold of my chalk.
His breath, smelling of spearmint and chamomile, warmed my ear. "Like this."
Mordon rubbed at my lines until they were faded blurs, then re-drew the same circle, but fifteen times better. Watching him helped me to learn which strokes to put down first and how to calculate angles. Between the two of us, I drew portraits better, but he could sew thirty stitches a minute using just one hand. I brewed potions, he enchanted nicknacks. And he was convinced that one day, I would write the spells, not only use them. That day would be a long time coming.
He moved quickly, nudging Skills around the circle as he went, comparing it to what he had on the floor. When he was back to me again, I was so lost in admiring the deft flicks of his hands and the bright gleam to his red-green hazel eyes that I blurted, "I love you."
Embarrassment scorched my cheeks. What had made me choose this very moment to say that?
A smile split through his concentration and he took my hand and squeezed it. "And I love you."
Mordon finished the last symbol left-handed, holding my hand with his right. We pressed on with the procedure, taking our time to be sure of the right symbols and angles, finding
There was absolute, perfect silence while they tried to decide if I was serious. Was my humor that dry? They seemed to think so. I said simply, “I thought it was best if we let the two of them duke it out. That way we'd just have to take care of the victors.”
Barnes got to his feet and crossed the living room. He opened my french doors. There was the creak of the benches as the other coven members craned to watch. Without flinching, Barnes let out a terrible growl and flung the doors wide.
We joined him.
Beyond his shoulders, my house was trashed, no sign of the intruders. All I could think was my poor plants . My friends turned one by one to stare at me accusingly. I shrugged.
“I hope Lyall is alright. Guess we'll see when we enter the Wildwoods.”
Chapter Three
Chalk scratched against rough bricks laid out in diagonals in my sunroom where the houseplants had been re-potted and had their broken limbs trimmed back. When I shuffled sideways, careful to not disrupt the circular pattern with my knees, I instead smudged symbols with my toes. Already my hands boasted a white coating, and the thighs of my jeans wore finger streaks.
Not far away, my spell book and tutor, Skills of the Thaumaturge , lay open to a spread depicting an even ring with neat runes inside and two concentric circles within. Even with the best I could do, my circles tended to look more like eggs than rounds. Today, the circle bore a striking resemblance to a six-pointed star. Probably because, in an attempt to not be oblong, I had marked out three times the ends of a meter stick, thinking it would be a simple matter to join those marks in one smooth curve. Laughably mistaken in my basic art skills. I stared blankly at the floor.
I rubbed my forehead. It was that stupid letter combined with this hang-over-thing. Magic hangovers. Who knew?
Mordon sunk his thumbs into the knotted muscles of my shoulders, a thing which would have startled me if the fuzzy cloud of feeling blah wasn't thick around me. He rolled his knuckles over my shoulders, then moved my hair, loose for once, to the sides, and stroked my neck. It was the first time he had ever been so casual about touching, and it sent warm tendrils through my body. The brood ring on my finger tightened her tail in a gentle squeeze and began a tiny vibrating purr.
We should kiss more.
It was my fault we didn't. Of course, the court proceedings and all the stress of questioning hadn't set up a mood to invite such things, but still…I shivered. The man knew how to use his fingers. Before I could get mentally carried away on the topic, aforementioned fingers left my neck and seized hold of my chalk.
His breath, smelling of spearmint and chamomile, warmed my ear. "Like this."
Mordon rubbed at my lines until they were faded blurs, then re-drew the same circle, but fifteen times better. Watching him helped me to learn which strokes to put down first and how to calculate angles. Between the two of us, I drew portraits better, but he could sew thirty stitches a minute using just one hand. I brewed potions, he enchanted nicknacks. And he was convinced that one day, I would write the spells, not only use them. That day would be a long time coming.
He moved quickly, nudging Skills around the circle as he went, comparing it to what he had on the floor. When he was back to me again, I was so lost in admiring the deft flicks of his hands and the bright gleam to his red-green hazel eyes that I blurted, "I love you."
Embarrassment scorched my cheeks. What had made me choose this very moment to say that?
A smile split through his concentration and he took my hand and squeezed it. "And I love you."
Mordon finished the last symbol left-handed, holding my hand with his right. We pressed on with the procedure, taking our time to be sure of the right symbols and angles, finding
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