Forbidden Bond Read online

  Lyall stamped the mud off his boots and slipped back the hood of his cloak as he walked into the inn. The warmth inside was a welcome change from the rain splattered streets and for a moment, he allowed himself to let his guard down. He’d stayed in this inn each time he visited the city. He felt as safe here as he could anywhere this far from home.

  Little had changed since his last visit, nearly twelve months ago. It was a Tuesday night and the common room was relatively quiet, only a few patrons enjoying a late dinner, and one lone bard playing a ballad half-heartedly on the dais.

  A kitchen maid came over to him, looking bored and tired. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, dinner and an ale please,” Lyall asked, ever polite.

  The woman nodded and headed back towards the kitchen doors.

  Lyall’s attention was arrested by a sudden scent, so unexpected here that it took him a moment to process it. The scent of power. Instead of slamming him with spices as his father’s magic did, or the scent of roses that characterised his mother, this scent was fragile, yet fresh, with a hint of sweetness, vanilla maybe?

  He looked around the room, switching to mage sight, taking more notice of the people he had all but ignored before. That would teach him to be complacent. But what was a mage doing here, so far from home? And was it a friend, or foe?

  Was it the bard? The couple necking at the next table? No, their auras were dull, washed out and lacking any magical talent at all. Where could he find that elusive scent? He was just about to convince himself that he had imagined it, when it teased his senses again. The serving maid slapped his meal wordlessly down in front of him and there was no mistaking it. The blue-green glow from her aura blocked out everything else.

  He switched back to normal vision, glancing up at her, trying to appear disinterested. She was young, barely into her twenties, and behind the bored expression he sensed something lurking. Something other than the magical power that emanated from her.

  Involuntarily, his hand snaked out and grasped her wrist. She glanced down at him and he was surprised to see no fear in her eyes, only annoyance. “I’m not on the menu.”

  “No, I…” Lyall was surprised to find himself embarrassed by her misunderstanding. The truth was, he had no idea why he had grabbed her like that, only that he wanted to.

  She frowned at him and he realised he still had hold of her wrist. Reluctantly, he released it. “I’m sorry,” he said lamely.

  She glared at him one last time before stalking off.

  Lyall opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He’d already made a bad first impression, he needed to stop and think out his next move, even though he wanted to chase after her then and there and demand answers.

  Who was she and what was she doing here? Even though she’d left the room, the scent of her magic lingered, and Lyall had to stop himself inhaling deeply. The echo of her aura had left an imprint in his brain, one that wouldn’t be shaken, almost overpowering her physical presence. He tried to bring the image to mind but could conjure up little more than a thick, dark braid hanging down her back and a dirty white apron. He needed to see her again, to get a fuller picture in his mind.

  He gave himself a shake. He needed to focus. He was here for a reason, and her presence screamed to every part of it. She shouldn’t be here, and he needed to find out where she’d come from.

  There were no mages on the mainland. That was a long accepted truth. Every single mage, even those with only a hint of magic in their bloodline, had left the mainland over a thousand years ago. They kept an eye on the people remaining here periodically—it was exactly such a mission that had brought him here today—but until now, no reports of anyone with any magical ability at all had been heard. Not even a hint of their rivals who had also disappeared to places unknown.

  Even stranger than her existence, if that were possible, was that she wasn’t just a flash in the pan. From her scent and her glowing aura, she was powerful, possibly even more powerful than he was, and he came from one of the leading magical families on the Isla de Magi.

  Who was she and what was she doing here? Were their rivals also watching for any sign of a return?

  To his disappointment, she didn’t appear again that night. He did, however, manage to catch Syrid, the inn owner, when he came to clear away the table.

  “Good evening, Lyall, haven’t seen you around in a while,” the man said in his usual manner. Lyall didn’t think he’d ever seen Syrid be anything other than friendly.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of visiting this fine town,” Lyall rejoined.

  “Well, you haven’t missed much, nothing changes around here.”

  “Except that you have a new serving maid?” He was being far too obvious, but his need to know overcame his usual reticence.

  “Brianna?” Syrid asked. “She’s been here a couple of months now. Country girl thinking she’d try a taste of the big city. I’m not too sure it’s living up to her expectations, but she doesn’t seem ready to go home yet.”

  Obviously it hadn’t occurred to the barkeep that the girl was more than she let on. Lyall filed the information away for future reference and decided that, personal interest aside, the girl merited his remaining for a few days to find out more about her. He nodded as disinterestedly as he could to Syrid’s disclosure and asked, “Do you have a vacant room?”

  Syrid nodded easily. “Sure, always do for you.” He ambled over to the bar with Lyall’s empty plates, and then wiped his hands on his apron and handed Lyall a key. “Up the stairs, third door on your left.”

  Lyall paid for his meal and the room, chatted for a few minutes about the weather, then excused himself and headed upstairs.

  Alone in his room, he pulled off his mud splattered boots and slung his dark woollen cape over the end of the bed, wondering where to go from here. He needed to be cautious. If Syrid’s story was true, and she was just a country bumpkin, there was little chance that she even knew of her magical power, let alone knew how to use it. If not, if she was, in fact, a magical spy of some kind, then she could already be on to him.

  He thought again of her face. She was too young, too… real, to be one of them.

  Much as he wanted to believe that, years of training had taught him not to take chances. So before settling down for the night, he placed several enchantments on the door, the window, and the walls. If anyone so much as tried to peep into his room, he would know about it.

  Satisfied that he had taken every precaution, he lay down to rest.

  But sleep eluded him. He found himself unable to stop thinking about her and all the scenarios that could have led to her presence here. Finally, after nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling wondering, he sighed and sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side. Might as well be doing something useful.

  Magical snooping usually posed no risks here on the mainland, but with another mage in the vicinity, he needed to be more cautious than usual. Instead of leaving his body to enter the astral realms, he stepped out his door and walked down the corridor physically.

  A hand, laid briefly on each door, was enough to confirm the absence of any magical protections with minimal risk. His sensitive nose sniffed for any wisp of magical power.

  He was all the way along the corridor and almost back to his own room, but on the opposite side, before he smelled it. He stood in front of the door, his resting hand telling him of no enchantments. The vanilla scent was stronger here. She was inside.

  He hesitated, just standing outside her door, hand resting on it, breathing in her unique smell. For how long he didn’t know. He felt the urge to knock on the door, but he had no idea what he would say. And he was a little afraid of making a fool out of himself as he had done in the common room earlier.

  It wasn’t as if he were a total novice when it came to girls. He’d attended many dances and parties and, he hoped, was considered a friend by many girls. This, though, was different. This girl didn’t know anything a
bout him, just as he knew nothing about her. The idea was terrifying and nerve-wracking.

  And incredibly exhilarating.

  He lifted his hand and knocked, once. As soon as his hand hit the door, he knew he’d made a mistake. What if she really was one of the others, and he ended up in a magical battle? What if she wasn’t but thought he was a fool to continue to pursue her when she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. The urge to retreat to the safety of his room was strong, but something stronger kept him standing there as the door opened.

  As soon as she saw him, she began to slam it shut again, but he managed to get his foot in the gap. “Please, give me a chance to explain.”

  She hesitated and her expression changed slightly. She nodded curtly. “I’m listening.”

  Words deserted him. “I just wanted to apologise,” he said lamely. “In the common room earlier. I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Great, he’d gone from not knowing what to say, to blabbering. He wouldn’t blame her if she slammed the door in his face. In fact, he moved his foot, expecting her to do just that.

  A range of emotions flitted across her face as she hesitated. “Why did you do it then?”

  That, he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t mention her magic until he found out whether she knew about it herself. But that was only one side of his reason anyway. Something else drew him to her, in addition to her magic. That, he could explain.

  “I don’t know. I just… well, something about you…” he broke off and felt his face heat. That hadn’t come out quite the way he’d planned. He should have left. That would have at least saved him the embarrassment of acting so stupidly.

  She raised an eyebrow, her face amused. “I get that a lot.”

  Her point was obvious. “I guess you probably do,” he admitted ruefully, trying to ignore the fact that her brush off stung. “Anyway, I’m sorry for disturbing you, I just wanted to apologise.” He took a step back, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He was obviously too tired from the day’s travel to be intelligent and charming tonight.

  “How did you know which room was mine?” she asked, catching him off guard.

  He looked up at her and something of what he was feeling was reflected in her eyes. That, as much as his lack of ability to explain, caused him to stammer his answer. “I… um… I knocked on each one,” he admitted.

  She smiled and the expression changed her face completely. “I’m Brianna,” she offered, holding out her hand in the universal gesture of friendship.

  He couldn’t resist the urge to touch her again. “Lyall,” he returned automatically, and let his hand slip into hers.

  The inevitable spark of one mage touching another shot through him, magnified by the attraction he felt towards her.

  Her eyes widened and flew to his, the shock on her face confirming that it was a completely new feeling to her.

  He stared into her eyes, fascinated by how they glinted green in the light of the lanterns, mirroring the colour he’d seen in her aura earlier. His earlier awkwardness faded, and he knew this was something more than just the surprise at finding a mage here on the mainland.

  She jerked her hand back as though stung. Her expression changed so dramatically, that he instinctively stepped back, sure the door was going to hit his nose as she slammed it.

  Had he pushed her too far? But she’d been the one to offer her hand to him. It was just the shock of their magic touching that had surprised her, that had to be it. If he gave her a little while to get used to the idea, she’d realise how amazing it was.

  He wanted to tell her now, to explain it all, but he hardly knew her. And she didn’t know him. He needed to take it slowly. So he took a quiet breath and made himself say calmly, “Goodnight, Brianna.”

  For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to reply. Then she said quietly, “Goodnight, Lyall.”

  He stepped back, and she hesitated a moment before closing the door. Crossing the short distance across the hall to his room, he was still conscious of her presence behind the other door. How would he sleep knowing she was so close?

  He closed the door behind him and sank against it, knees suddenly weak.

  He‘d just taken a great risk, one his father would have severely scolded him for. Seeking out a potentially hostile and powerful mage did not make any sort of sense. But that wasn’t the reason for his lack of ability to stand.

  The way her magic had slid through him, as though it could see into every corner of his being, was unbelievable. He’d never experienced anything like it before.

  Even after he moved to the bed and lay down, it was a long time before he could sleep.

  4

  Wise Words

  Brianna threw another pitchfork full of spoilt hay into the wheelbarrow, then glanced over her shoulder. The stable courtyard was as empty as it had been last time she looked. When she realised what she was doing, she scowled. She’d offered to muck out the stables this morning to avoid seeing the young man from last night.

  It would be far better for both of them if he headed off to whatever task had brought him to the city without them seeing each other again. There was no point pining over something that couldn’t be.

  She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Though the rain of the previous night had passed, its evidence was left behind in the form of wet, smelly hay. There was more than enough work to keep her busy for several hours.

  After a while, the monotony of the task soothed her racing mind. She settled into a comfortable rhythm. Dig, lift, throw. Move onto the next stall, and repeat. Dig, lift, throw. She worked without pause.

  Until a voice startled her. “I thought being a serving maid was beneath you—mucking out stables is even more so.”

  His voice set her heart racing even before she glanced up and saw the man from last night, leaning against a pole watching her. He was dressed as neatly as the night before, a stark contrast to her muddy and smelly overalls. She turned back to dig one more forkful of hay, trying to give herself a few moments to calm the thumping of her heart before she turned to look at him again.

  His dark hair was a little longer than the men in her village, and it arched in even curves on both sides of his forehead. He raised his right eyebrow slightly, his head tilted to one side. It didn’t help her composure any.

  Leaning on the shovel, she focused on his words, not his looks. Feeling almost defensive, she said, “Nothing is beneath me. How can you possibly understand a job, or ask anyone to do it for you, if you have not done it yourself at least once?”

  He looked taken aback. But after staring at her blankly for a few moments, a smile crinkled the corner of his mouth. “Wise words, beautiful Brianna. In that case, I think perhaps it is time I gave it a go then.”

  That was not what she had meant. She couldn’t imagine him mucking out the stable in his spotless breaches and creaseless shirt.

  But he was rolling up his sleeves.

  “That isn’t what I meant. I…” Her voice trailed off as he came across and took the pitchfork from her. She was too surprised to stop him.

  “You’ll have to give me some instruction though. I’ve never done this before.”

  He shoved the fork into the muck, straight up, clearly proving her point. She felt a guilty sense of satisfaction as he struggled to force it through the thick hay. For a few moments, she watched him, too amused to offer any help. He wriggled the fork until the prongs went into the hay a little, then tried to lift it, but the prongs broke through the wet hay, and he ended up with only a few strands of hay still clinging to it.

  He looked over at her. “Yes, I see exactly what you mean. I realised it was an unpleasant task, but obviously there is some skill to it that I lack. Are you going to teach me, or are you going to stand there and laugh?”

  Somehow, his easy admission of his lack of skill removed any of her earlier irritation at his comments. She took the pitchfork from him, careful not to le
t her hand touch his and starting at the edge of the hay, shoved it underneath and lifted and threw it into the wheelbarrow nearby with a practised move. “You have to get underneath it, not on top.” She shovelled another couple of loads to show him as he watched intently.

  “I think I have it now, may I?” He held out his hand for the fork.

  “You really want to shovel hay covered in dung?” she asked in disbelief. “Your pants will get all dirty.”

  Lyall laughed. “I think it’s too late to prevent that. And I’m determined not to be bested by a girl.” Brianna was about to bristle at that, but he poked his tongue out at her, and she was so surprised, she laughed instead.

  “Be my guest,” she said, handing him back the fork.

  She watched him for a while, but he seemed to have worked it out now. He fell to with gusto, so she fetched the second pitchfork, and they worked together in companionable silence.

  Brianna tried to focus on what she was doing, but it was impossible not to keep glancing sideways at the man from time to time. This was the last thing she had expected to happen this morning. Even when she had been looking for him, she’d only expected to get a chance to glance at his face again, to see if it captivated her as it had last night.

  Yet here he was, cleaning out stalls beside her. She couldn’t make him out. He seemed so neat and tidy and correct, a little like Terion in some ways, but then he went and surprised her by being ready to step outside that.

  But she didn’t want to be intrigued. It could only lead to heartache because she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Chances were, he would be leaving the inn in the next couple of days anyway, and she’d never see him again. Best to concentrate on her work, and stop all this nonsensical dreaming.

  It took over two hours to make their way down to the last stall, but Brianna had to admit the work went much faster with assistance. She’d expected Lyall to give up after the first stall, but he worked on without pause.

  She picked up the handles of the last wheelbarrow load, but Lyall laid his hand over hers. “Let me.”