When Magic Falls Page 6

  Mel had spent the better part of the night staring at the ceiling in the all-too-foreign bedroom that would be hers while she stayed in the palace. The ceiling that had to be at least ten feet from the floor. She should have been snuggling into the thick mattress on the massive four poster bed, enjoying a night of total luxury.

  Instead, she was freaking out. Not only about her powers, but also about the way Liam had dropped her like a hot potato right after. He couldn’t get away fast enough.

  And Mel had no idea why.

  Mel paced back and forth across the plush rug. “Yes, sparks. Except, they didn’t burn. They were more like light than fire.”

  Winnie shook her head in apparent awe. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Not in all my years of dreaming the realm.”

  Mel wasn’t sure if that reassured her or scared the crap out of her. Maybe both.

  “Liam said it has to with me being the…” It was hard to say the words out loud, even if she was starting to believe they were true.

  “Daughter of a god?” Winnie finished for her. “That makes sense. You’re closer to the source of magic than anyone.”

  Mel paced back across the rug. She didn’t know which idea blew her mind more: that she was the daughter of a deity or that she was so readily accepting that possibility as reality. If she was the kind of girl to try drugs, she would probably think this was all a bad trip. Some hallucination brought on by chemicals messing with her synapses.

  Maybe it was a mental illness. Or a brain tumor. She had read about brain tumors making people believe all kinds of crazy things.

  How else could she explain the fact that she totally accepted the idea that she was in a magical realm that, before today, she thought only existed in her best friend’s stories?

  Brain tumor. Definitely a brain tumor.

  “You’re not crazy,” Winnie said.

  “Can you read minds, too?”

  “No,” Winnie said with a wink. “I just know you really well.”

  Knock, knock.

  Mel and Winnie exchanged a look.

  “It’s not Cathair,” she said. “He wouldn’t wait for an invitation.”

  Mel raised her eyebrows at her friend.

  Winnie gave her a silly smile. “Perks of being the prince, I guess.”

  Mel shook her head and turned to the door. “Yes?”

  The door swung open and Liam stood in the hallway.

  “Forgive me, ladies.” He stared at a spot about two feet above Mel’s head. “I have come for Melania’s next lesson.”

  She thought about correcting him—no one but her mom called her Melania—but since she was still off balance after his hasty retreat last night, she decided to let it go.

  “Ready, willing, and hopefully able,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone that she didn’t feel.

  “I’ll catch you later,” Winnie said as the pair of them left the room.

  Winnie headed one direction, going to find the queen for the next stage of party planning. Liam gestured the other way, and Mel started down the hall.

  “Back on the parapet?” she asked.

  “No.”

  A curt, one word answer.

  Mel sighed. So it was going to be that kind of day.

  She really didn’t want to spend the duration of her time in the fae world feeling all awkward and tense with the guy who was supposed to be training her. She would probably be spending more time with him than anyone else. Better they work through the problem.

  “Look, I don’t know what happened last night,” she said. “But if you don’t tell me I can’t try not to do it again.”

  He didn’t say anything at first. Just kept walking at the same, steady pace. Like some kind of machine.

  Just when Mel was about to give up on him, he said, “It was nothing you did.”

  “It sure seemed like something I did.” She stared at him—which was kind of a feat, since they were starting down the stairs. “Once second I thought you were going in for a kiss, and the next—”

  “I—” he started to say, and then changed his mind. “It will not happen again.”

  Mel didn’t know if that meant he had been trying to kiss her. At that moment, she probably would have let him.

  But if he wanted to pretend like it never happened, then that was fine with her.

  “We will be training in the queen’s private garden,” Liam told her as he led the way.

  They rounded a few corners and passed through at least four doorways before emerging into the morning air. Mel was sure she would never find her way back on her own.

  The garden itself was gorgeous, like something out of a fairy tale.

  Mel snorted to herself. Literally out of a fairy tale.

  Bright, colorful roses the size of her head. Climbing vines covered in delicate flowers. Lush greens and vibrant petals. It was a gardener’s heaven. And right in the center, the richest most perfect patch of grass she had ever seen.

  It wasn’t big. Probably about the size of her bedroom back home. But it practically begged her to chuck off her shoes and feel the grass between her toes.

  If Mel had to pick just one spot to spend the rest of her life, this was definitely a contender.

  “The queen tends it herself.”

  “Yeah. It’s nice,” she said dismissively, not wanting him to see how much she loved this spot. This entire world.

  As if admitting it would make it any harder to let go when she had to leave. After just one sleepless night in the fae realm and Mel felt like she had never belonged anywhere more.

  Only her mom and her life back in the human realm disagreed.

  “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to accidentally destroy the queen’s favorite daffodils or something?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Liam studied her for several long seconds before answering with a simple, “No.”

  The he started for the patch of grass.

  “Wait!” Mel grabbed him by the arm. “You’ll crush it with your boots.”

  He looked from her, down to his boots and then to the grass.

  “The sod is enchanted,” he told her. “It cannot be damaged.”

  She released her grip on his arm. “Oh.”

  “But you are right. Your training will benefit from direct connection to nature.”

  He stepped the toe of one boot against the heel of the other and pulled out his foot. Then he repeated the action with the other boot. Before he had set his boots off to the side, Mel had stepped out of her sneakers and kicked them toward a bench that overlooked the grass.

  She didn’t even care that she looked eager to feel the grass on her bare feet.

  “Let’s begin with the same exercise you tried on the parapet,” he said. “Only this time, keep your eyes open.”

  The stood facing each other, Mel squeezing and wiggling her toes in the lush grass.

  Mel centered herself. She focused her gaze on his dark gray eyes, even as she focused her attention on her magic.

  Last night, the exercise had felt private. With her eyes closed, it was like she could convince herself she was alone in her room.

  Now, with her eyes open, knowing that Liam was watching her every move, it was like she was on display. Like she was on stage with an audience.

  And Mel had always been comfortable with an audience, even an audience of one.

  She reached into herself, found that power core that she had never known but now seemed such an integral part of her. It didn’t require as much effort as before. Now that her magic was awake, she supposed, it was ready to surge up again.

  In the blink of an eye, the queen’s garden filled with the same magical sparks.

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it, it just felt so good, so light.

  Facing her, Liam did not look nearly so relaxed. His jaw was tense and his steady gaze never wavered from hers. He was keeping his distance this time. Like he couldn’t trust himself to touch her.

  “Release it,” he said.<
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  Before he had finished the words, Mel breathed out and sent the sparks swirling into the sky.

  She gave him a saucy grin. “How’d you like that magic?”

  “Very good,” he said, with the beginnings of a smile on his face. “Now try again.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  For a magical being who had never before touched her magic, Mel was doing remarkably well for only two days of training. She had quickly improved her ability to draw up her magic and to release it. She had also managed some elemental powers, being able to raise a wind at will and to bring a bud to bloom on cue.

  Liam was consistently impressed with her abilities.

  If this was what she was capable of after only two days of training, imagine what she could do in a month. A year. A lifetime.

  Her powers might very well be limitless.

  “I never had much a green thumb,” Mel said as she stared at the rosebud she had brought to bloom. “I guess I should start growing herbs or something.”

  “Earth and air are the two easiest elements to control,” Liam told her. “I think you are ready to move on to the third.”

  She grinned at him. “Let me guess. Water?”

  “Yes, water.”

  “Gold star for me,” she joked.

  He could sense she was uncomfortable with his distance. His magic knew her displeasure without words. She did not understand it was for her own good that he kept a barrier between them.

  “Where earth and air are simple because they are forever all around us and at our feet,” he explained. “Water is not always readily accessible.”

  “So, what?” she asked, rising to her full height, still some inches shorter than him. “We have to go find a river or something?”

  Liam allowed himself a small smile. “That will not be necessary. Water, too, is all around us. Albeit in a form too small to see.”

  He gestured at the space around them and, concentrating his magic on the water element, pulled the humidity from the air itself. The next instant, both he and Mel were covered in a thin mist.

  Her grin lit him up on the inside.

  She took such joy in magic, saw it as such a…magical thing.

  He had been too long jaded, had seen magic do too many dark things. But seeing her pure delight infected him. He felt it lift some of the darkness from his shoulders.

  “Now you try,” he instructed. “As with the roses, narrow the focus to the element you seek and—“

  He had not finished his instructions when a literal deluge of water crashed down on him.

  Mel’s laugh echoed against the garden walls.

  “Omigosh,” she said between cackles. “I totally didn’t mean to do that.”

  He couldn’t stop the laugh that exploded out of him. Her good mood was too infectious, her success too impressive. He would have had to be dead not to succumb to the fun.

  “I think you did,” he teased. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

  She laughed again, and suddenly another wave of water splashed over him.

  “Okay, I totally meant to do that.”

  “Oh, you will pay for that.” He started after her, chasing her like little boys with wooden swords chased little girls around the palace courtyard.

  She was fast and sprightly, like a forest fox. Unable to catch her, he resorted to what weapons he had at his disposal.

  While she darted around the bench, he pulled his shirt off over his head, wadded the sopping cloth up, and threw it at her. It glanced off her shoulder, leaving a wet streak on her skin.

  “Okay, okay!” she blurted, gasped for air from a mixture of running and laughing. “I give up. Truce!”

  She stopped running and threw her arms up in the air.

  Liam had the almost instantaneous impulse to lift her by the waist and spin her around. He even started to reach for her before his self-protective instincts kicked him. At the last second, he bent down and snatched his wet shirt from the ground.

  He saw her smile falter as he turned away from her and started wringing the water from his shirt.

  It was not until he heard her gasp that he remembered why he should never turn his bare back on anyone.

  “Liam,” she said, her voice barely a breath.

  He closed his eyes, trying to will himself back in time by ten seconds. Or, failing that impossibility, trying to will the pity from her eyes.

  He knew it was too late to take it back. He had seen the scars that criss-crossed his back just once, but the image was inked onto his memory like a tattoo. Ragged tears in his flesh, the desperate marks of teeth and claws. His back looked like an abstract painting of pearly white scar tissue against red and purple skin. Once was enough. He had never dared to look at it in the mirror again.

  He started to pull the soaked shirt back over his head.

  “I—I knew they would be bad,” Mel said so quietly that he almost couldn’t hear her. “But I had no idea they would be quite so awful.”

  He spun around to face her, shirt clutched before him. “What do you mean you knew?”

  “Winnie’s stories.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “She wrote about you a few times. You were…memorable.”

  He couldn’t look away from her eyes. He had expected to see pity there. Or worse, revulsion.

  Instead, he saw only pain.

  As if his scars, scars that no longer caused anything more than discomfort, pained her.

  He watched, entranced, as she stepped closer. Circled around behind him. He sensed her touch an instant before her fingertips brushed against his bare shoulder.

  The contact sent a shudder throughout his body. Whether from her magic or the simple pleasure of her touch, he couldn’t tell.

  “Can you—“ She traced her fingers across his back. “How did it happen?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He couldn’t tell her. He hadn’t spoken of it since that day, nearly five years ago, when it occurred.

  “You don’t have to tell me today.” She pulled her fingers away, and he felt the absence like a gaping hole. “But when you are ready to talk about it, I’ll be ready to listen.”

  She came back to stand in front of him.

  He should have been embarrassed, horrified for her to see both his scars and his reaction to them. But instead, he felt comforted. He managed a half smile as he pulled his shirt back into place.

  She smiled back, and just that easy, everything was okay.

  Maybe that was part of her magic as well. Or maybe that was just her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mel needed a break. After nearly three solid days of training, she felt like a frazzled mess. She understood the need for the fast-track magic lessons, but if she didn’t get at least a little time off she wasn’t going to be able to think clearly enough at the ball tomorrow night to even summon a gentle breeze.

  “Can we take five?” she asked Liam, who was busy prepping for whatever her next exercise was going to be.

  “Five what?” he asked.

  He took everything so literally. “Five minutes. I need a breather.”

  “Very well.” He glanced up at the sun. “Five minutes.”

  “More than five,” she quickly corrected. “Maybe even an entire half hour.”

  He scowled at her, like he was trying to decide if she was joking or not.

  “Actually,” she said, “there is something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.”

  He tensed up, and she had a feeling he thought she was going to ask about his scars. She wanted to. Boy did she want to. A girl didn’t see something like that and not want to know more.

  But she would have to leave the timing of that one to him. If she pushed him, she might just push him out of her reach.

  And for some reason, she really wanted him within her grasp.

  “It’s about my dad,” she said.

  He relaxed visibly, but the scowl stayed in place. He crossed to the bench she was draping herself over and sat
down next to her.

  “What about him?”

  “I’ve been wondering…” She bit her lip. Mel was almost never nervous, but this was a whole new ballgame. “Can I meet him?”

  He blinked at her.

  “My whole life, I’ve thought he was a deadbeat loser—”

  “Deadbeat loser?”

  “It’s not important.” She waved off his confusion. “The point is, he’s not what I thought he was.”

  “I should imagine.”

  “And now that I know who he is,” she continued, “I want to know him.”

  “There are ways to call on the gods,” Liam explained. “They are not always successful.”

  He sat silently for several moments, as if considering the options.

  “Then again, I imagine you would have blood advantage on your side.” He looked at her. “When do you wish this meeting to take place?”

  Her hands shook. “As soon as possible. Today. Now.”

  “Now?” His scowl deepened into a frown. “Are you certain?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  He frowned again, but ignored her mixed metaphor. “Placing the call is a simple matter. It involves clearing your mind of all other thoughts and speaking the words, I call to you, Belemus, fae god of fire.”

  “That’s it?”

  When he nodded, Mel jumped to her feet.

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s place that call.”

  Liam rose next to her. “Such a call should be placed in solitude. Me presence might interfere with the ritual.”

  “Okay then.” Mel made a shooing gesture. “Give me some space.”

  Liam started for the garden entrance. As he reached the door, he turned back. “If you need me, I will be right outside.”

  Mel gave him a thumbs up.

  As soon as he was out of sight, she moved to the center of the grass. Eyes closed, she held her hands out to the side and cleared her mind. She ignored the fact that those hands were shaking like leaves in the wind.

  “I call on you, Belemus,” she began, “fae god of—”

  “Daughter, I am here.”

  Mel’s eyes flashed open. There, just inches in front of her, stood a man. Or at least he looked like a man. Mostly.