Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(27)

The Paragon flipped his glasses up and gave Killian a look that could kill. “Save your pretty words for someone who might be susceptible to them. It’s too late to try and butter me up, I know you’re a weasel.” He swatted at his own mustache with annoyance, then squinted at Killian. “You didn’t tell any of the fae Kings or Queens that I’m here, did you?”

“I have not,” Killian said. “Yet.”

The Paragon groaned like a teenager, his shoulders slumping uncharacteristically for a fae of his advanced age. “Then I have to repeat myself: what do you want now?”

Killian folded his arms across his chest. “I need to consult you on a small matter that requires privacy.”

The Paragon screwed his mouth into a shrivel. “How small can the matter be if it requires privacy?”

“Now that you mention it, perhaps I could call the Winter Queen to join us.”

The Paragon rolled his eyes. “You are such a sore loser.” He plunged his hands into the pocket of his robes and pulled out what looked like a coin purse with a pink unicorn stitched into the fabric. “Hold on.” He peered at me through the thick lenses of his glasses. “Literally.”

He flicked the purse open, and it was hard to say if everything in the coin purse exploded out, replacing our surroundings, or if the coin purse sucked us inside. All I knew was one moment we were standing in the library, then after a gust of wind that made me shut my eyes, and the feeling of the ground slithering beneath my feet, we were in an entirely different room.

It appeared to be a workshop crossed with…a rec room? A foosball table and a big screened TV were placed next to a bookshelf of books that were probably older than the United States of America. Glass vials filled with rainbow colored liquids were carefully arranged next to a cooking station that was lined with cupboards of ingredients. The biggest part of the room was claimed by a massive wooden desk made out of thick tree trunks and branches supporting a polished wooden tabletop. Three similarly crafted bookshelves were crammed behind it. It seemed to me they were all alive, because as I watched two of the bookshelves sprouted leaves, and the desk grew a flower.

Impressed, I glanced over at the Paragon.

He proudly shook his coin purse and grinned at me. “A pocket realm! Fae magic at its best!”

“This is your office?” I guessed.

The Paragon puffed up his chest and stretched his arms out, beckoning to the room. “Given my role as the top fae representative in America, I travel frequently from Court to Court. Naturally, my work must come with me.”

I peered around the office again. “So that means we’re in the fae realm?”

“A tiny sliver of it that is under my direct control, yes. Though my office isn’t stationary in the fae realm—that would make me too easy for those wretch nobles to find.” He made a face, then furrowed his brow and clawed at his mustache when he nearly inhaled a whisker.

Killian plopped down on an elaborately carved chair made of white wood. “Have you finished schooling the wizard?”

The Paragon flipped his glasses up again, this time to peer at me. “A wizard? My, my—I never thought you’d keep mixed company, Mr. Paranoid.”

“She may be of use to me.” Killian glanced at the living desk, which sprouted a chrysanthemum at the corner closest to him. He narrowed his eyes at it, and the flower instantly withered and died. “Which is why I brought her here. She’s a Medeis—the last one.”

“Ahh, you are Hazel Medeis.” Some of his pluck left the Paragon and was replaced with moroseness as he bowed his head. “I heard of your parents. I am sorry for your loss. Wait.” He furrowed his brows and glanced back at Killian. “What are you doing with the House Medeis Adept? Did you kidnap her? You shouldn’t do that, you know. Even if the wizards fear you and let you have her, it’s not a good look. Besides, you don’t even like humans, much less wizards!”

Killian smiled, and the black-red of his eyes seemed to lighten up into more of a glowing blood red. “She came to me willingly. Some infighting in her House, I believe, but I don’t care about that.”

The Paragon glanced at me—I couldn’t tell if he was looking to me for confirmation, or was checking to see if I was shocked by Killian’s careless words.

I wasn’t surprised. Killian Drake wasn’t feared just because he’s good at smoldering. His general disregard for any life except vampires had gotten him a pretty dark reputation. In fact, if he had shown interest in Mason and everything that had gone down with House Medeis, I would have turned tail and run for all I was worth. I did not want a vampire mucking around in my business—particularly one as powerful and terrifying as Killian Drake.

The Paragon blinked, but kept on staring at me.

I shrugged a bit and edged away from Celestina—the much taller woman loomed over me as she perused the bookshelf just behind me.

“What interests me is her magic—or lack of,” Killian continued. “She’s awful at magic. Lighting a candle is probably as useful as her magic gets, even though she’s a Medeis. Given her pedigree, that seems a bit suspicious.”

The Paragon frowned. “You think she’s faking it?”

“No,” Killian snorted. “Wizards are far too proud—if she really had more power her House would have trumpeted it from the walls when she made Adept. No, she believes she’s a near dud in magic. Which makes me suspect her powers were sealed as a child.”