The Spell Realm (The Sorcery Code #2)(37)

Barson’s eyes flashed with anger. “All I am trying to do is protect you—”

“I don’t need protection from someone who can’t even do a basic spell,” Augusta said sharply, losing her temper. She was more than capable of looking after herself, and the fact that Barson was trying to imply that she was some weak damsel in need of protection added to her fury. She wasn’t about to let some soldier tell her what to do—especially when she was beginning to suspect his motivations.

“Is that what you need—a man who can do spells?” A muscle pulsed in his jaw as he took a step toward her. “Is that what this whole thing is about for you? Is that why you want to destroy this creature so badly? Because she’s with him? Are you still pining for your reclusive conjurer?”

Augusta literally saw red. “Get out,” she hissed, pointing at the door. “Get out before I show you exactly what a ‘conjurer’ can do—”

“Are you threatening me?” Barson’s voice turned dangerously soft. “I don’t do well with threats, Augusta.”

Driven beyond fury, Augusta jumped back, her hand instinctively scrambling for the Interpreter Stone lying on the table. Before she could grab it, however, she felt his hard arms close around her, whirling her around and pressing her against his muscular body. She pushed at him, but it was like trying to move a mountain with her bare hands, and the sense of powerlessness was even more enraging. Her mouth opened to chant a spell—she didn’t know which one and didn’t care at this point—but his lips closed over hers, the kiss hard and filled with rage, and all she could do was hang helplessly in his embrace.

She could feel the heat of passion rising between them, but before it could go any further, his arms loosened around her and he stepped back, his chest heaving with anger and something more.

Her body shaking all over, Augusta tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t form on her swollen lips. And before she could pull herself together, he turned and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.





Chapter 21: Blaise





Shocked, Blaise stared at Gala who had just materialized on his chaise. She had teleported herself there—a very complex maneuver, given that the chaise was moving through the air at the time.

“I did it,” she said, beaming at him. “I controlled a spell again. A few spells, as a matter of fact.”

Recovering from his shock, Blaise pulled her toward him, shuddering at the thought of what could’ve happened if she’d miscalculated just a tiny bit and landed inside the chaise, instead of on top of it. Or inside Blaise, for that matter. His heart pounded heavily in his chest.

She hugged him for a brief moment, then pulled back, looking up at him. “Wasn’t that good?” she asked proudly. “I did exactly what I set out to do and nothing else.”

Blaise nodded, still not trusting himself to speak, and her bright smile faded. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you upset with me?”

Blaise took a deep breath, letting the remnants of tension drain out of him. “No,” he managed to say evenly. “It’s just that what you did was dangerous, and I was imagining what could’ve happened if you’d made an error in your calculations.”

Her delicate eyebrows lifted. “An error? Like thinking that two plus two equals five? I don’t think I could do such a thing.”

“So you’re telling me you’re infallible?” Blaise asked, amused at her inadvertent arrogance.

“I don’t think I’m infallible.” Gala frowned at him. “You know I have trouble with sorcery sometimes. But I just don’t know how I could possibly get math wrong. It’s so simple and straightforward. The calculations always yield the same results; it’s just a matter of thinking about them for a second.”

Blaise smiled at her, his pulse slowly returning to normal. “I see. Well, I can assure you that the rest of us make errors all the time.”

She smiled back at him, and then a mischievous expression stole across her face. “I have something for you,” she said, looking as excited as a child on her birthday. “A gift of sorts.”

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” she said, moving behind him and placing her small palms over his face. “Let’s go back to where you met with Ganir.”

“You expect me to navigate the chaise like this?”

“Well, I can also teleport us there—”

“No, that’s all right,” Blaise said quickly. “I’ll navigate.” And doing his best to remember where they needed to go, he directed the chaise to fly in that general direction, with Gala occasionally correcting their course.

“Stop here,” she finally said, taking her palms away, and Blaise blinked a few times, letting his eyes get used to the bright light again. “There it is,” she said, pointing down, and he looked in that direction.

What he saw made him stop breathing for a second. “Is that . . . is that my house?” he finally managed to ask, turning toward Gala. The large structure was sitting in the rocky canyon below, looking as intact as he had seen it the last time in Turingrad.

“It is.” She gave him a huge smile. “You said you wished you still had access to your work, so I brought it here for you.”