The Spell Realm (The Sorcery Code #2)(42)

At that moment, Gala came up to them, a strange expression on her face. She looked almost angry. Looping her arm through Blaise’s elbow, she gave Ara a haughty look. “I don’t think Blaise likes that drink of yours,” she said sharply.

Blaise stared at his creation in shock. He’d never seen her be purposefully rude. Did she dislike Ara for some reason?

Ara shot Gala an equally disdainful look. “I think as a former Council member, Blaise can decide for himself what he does and does not like,” she began, and Blaise saw Gala’s free hand curling into a fist. The truth dawned on him. Gala was jealous. He needed to diffuse the situation and quickly.

“Gala,” he said evenly, “why don’t we take a walk right now? I think the fresh air would be good for us. Ara—thank you for the drink. It was actually quite good.” And before Gala could protest, he led her into the woods, trying not to notice the disappointed expression on Ara’s face.

“Gala, were you jealous?” he asked when they were out of the earshot of the villagers. “Was that why you acted this way with Ara?”

Gala looked at him, a stormy expression on her face. “Do you like her?” To his surprise, there was a hurt note in her voice. “Do you want her? Because I think she wants you—”

“What? No!” Blaise couldn’t believe someone so beautiful was feeling insecure. “You’re the only one I want. How can you even think otherwise? Ara was just being friendly—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Gala said quietly. “I’ve seen her looking at you before. She doesn’t act this friendly with the others—only with you.”

Blaise took a deep breath. “Regardless of what Ara may or may not feel, what matters is how I feel,” he said, holding Gala’s gaze. “And I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about. I don’t think of her that way.”

A faint flush stole across her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s not logical, but I don’t like the thought of you with some other woman. Even Augusta, although I know it’s in the past—”

“Gala . . .” Blaise reached for her hand, clasping it between his palms. His heart was beating faster, and a feeling very much like euphoria spread through him. “Believe me,” he said softly, “I can’t think of anyone but you.”

She looked up at him again, her expression unusually vulnerable. “And I can’t think of anyone but you,” she whispered, her eyes large and liquid in the fading twilight.

Unable to resist, Blaise bent his head and kissed her, his hands sliding around her back to press her closer. It was only the knowledge that the entire village was less than fifty feet away that enabled him to stop with just a kiss.

“Come,” he murmured, taking her hand again. “Let’s go back. And please, don’t be upset with every woman I speak to. I can promise you, they mean nothing to me.”

Gala gave him a soft smile. “All right. I will try.”

When they got back, the boar was ready, and the women were starting to slice off thick pieces of meat dripping with fat. Liva handed Gala and Blaise two misshapen wooden plates loaded with meat and roasted vegetables, and they sat down to eat next to the fire.

An old, white-haired man was sitting near them, with a few children gathered around him. He was telling the children a story. As Blaise listened closer, he realized it was one of the myths from the western lands.

“In the beginning, a thousand years ago, the world was all water,” the elderly man began, his voice deep and sonorous. “There was nothing there except two brothers—the Sea Monster and the Thunder Creature. They lived together, in the water and the sky, until one day they had a big fight. The Thunder Creature was envious of the Sea Monster’s freedom to swim, and in a fit of jealous rage, he ripped the Sea Monster’s heart out. That heart became the land of Koldun, and the Sea Monster’s flesh became its people. With his brother gone, the Thunder Creature went insane from loneliness, his howls creating the storms that surround our land to this very day.”

The old man paused, and Blaise saw that the children were looking at the old man in wide-eyed fascination—and so was Gala.

"That’s not what I read,” she told the old man, looking puzzled. “And what I read sounded much more plausible.”

Blaise smiled at her confusion. “Gala, these are just old stories . . . legends. They are not meant to be taken literally.”

The elderly storyteller frowned at Blaise. “What do you mean by that, sorcerer? These are the stories passed down for generations. Do you have some other explanation for how we came to be?”

“Well, yes, actually,” Blaise said slowly. He didn’t want to offend these people and their beliefs, so he needed to proceed carefully. “We don’t have all the answers, but we know a couple of things for sure. The world is very old. A thousand years is but a moment compared to its true age. In fact, there are trees that are older than that—you can tell their age from the number of rings inside their trunks. Sorcerers studying weather patterns have found a couple of pine trees that are over five thousand years old.”

The old man stared at him in shock, and some of the children giggled, enjoying the adults’ disagreement. “Over five thousand years?” one little boy asked, his eyes round with wonder. “That’s a long time for a tree to be alive.”