Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(28)

The Paragon turned in a slow circle, tapping his fingers together. It took me a moment to realize it was in excitement. “It can be done—though I’ve never heard of anyone being stupid enough to want it. But the wizards have asked us fae in the past to seal the magic of their most dangerous criminals.”

The Paragon had a point—if my magic was sealed it was done by a fae. Though wizards have more natural magic since we channel it through our bodies, the way we can use it is limited. We can bend the elements to our will—like fire, wind, water, you get the point—and fight or defend with raw magic.

The fae are in a similar but opposite position. Since they have to use things to channel magic for them, they can use magic for things like sealing powers, disguises, imbedding a spell in an item, a strain of hypnosis, and so on. They can’t react as quickly as a human wizard can, and in a magic fight a human wizard would win over a fae. But outside of fighting—which is more useful since supernaturals hadn’t had a large scale wars in decades—fae magic has far more uses.

Like sealing someone’s access to magic.

But even though it was possible, the idea that my magic was sealed was totally stupid. There’s no way my parents would have allowed it—and no one could have done it without their knowledge. (Besides, who would have done it? Mason had obviously been planning a long time, but I doubt he had his takeover in mind when he was ten.)

“Perhaps Aphrodite might be able to tell if she’s sealed.” The Paragon made his way over to a bookshelf behind his desk.

Killian rolled his eyes. “That abomination can’t sense magic any better than a fruit fly.”

The Paragon gasped in horror. “How dare you say such things about this majestic creature!” He turned to a massive, velvet red cushion that was carefully placed on the middle shelf. Resting on the cushion was what I had assumed was a preserved egg from the fae realm—it was a very unusual shade of pink.

But when the Paragon put his hand on it, the egg uncurled, revealing spindly legs, a hairless tail, and a wrinkled head ornamented with ears so big they were almost bat-like.

It took me several long moments to realize the Paragon was petting a hairless cat that had a prominent belly and wrinkle lines that made the feline look angry.

“He didn’t mean it, my dear,” the Paragon told his…unique cat. “He’s jealous of your inherent beauty and great charm.”

“I have never seen that cat leave its cushion in its whole life,” Killian said. “It has no charm to speak of.”

“Don’t listen to him, Aphrodite.” The Paragon scratched the cat under the chin and was rewarded with a deep purr even I could hear.

“Aphrodite?” I cautiously asked.

The Paragon beamed at me. “Aphrodite is a hairless sphinx cat with the bluest of bloodlines and a peerless pedigree! She came from a particularly famous litter of sphinx kittens, for her siblings have been scattered across various realms to bless the residents of the universe!”

“Mmmert,” Aphrodite said.

The Paragon apparently wasn’t anywhere near finished as he beamed at his treasured pet. “Given her great beauty and remarkable family, I knew I had to give her a name worthy of her glory! Inspired by a great number of Renaissance paintings, I settled on Aphrodite.”

“Don’t—” Killian started to say.

“Why?” I asked.

A thin wrinkle connected Killian’s eyebrows, expressing his horror.

The Paragon, however, chortled. “Because as it seems Renaissance artists were incapable of creating art in which the goddess Aphrodite was clothed, neither can fur be allowed to hide the greatness that is my feline companion!”

Shocked, I stared at the bald cat. “I…see?”

“Indeed!” The Paragon laughed until his precious cat hooked her claws in his tunic and pulled. “Wait—you must sheathe your claws, Aphrodite. I can’t let you ruin this robe, too!”

Killian looked physically pained—or ill. I wasn’t sure which, but either way it made my day to see him uncomfortable. “Stop playing with the cat and check to see if she’s sealed.”

“But—”

“Now!”

“Bossy!” the Paragon huffed. He made a face at Killian, then beckoned to me. “Step this way, wizardling.” He shuffled across his office, pausing at the far side of the room where a massive, spiraled horn leaned against a wall. He picked it up, grumbling under his breath as he struggled to hold it. “Mutant giant unicorn,” he complained as he staggered to a dark corner of his office. “Thing was an abomination. I can only hope it didn’t breed like rabbits. Here we go.” He maneuvered the horn—which was almost as long as I was tall—so the sharpened point was tilted down, then tapped the ground.

That corner, which had previously appeared dark and dusty, flared to life. Elaborate swirls and circles of stars burned a bright gold on the ground. The light left the circle and traced up the sides of the wall in thick strokes reminiscent of trees, then crawled across the ceiling in another star pattern so the entire corner glowed with magic.

The Paragon slapped his hands on his robe, then pointed to a crescent moon at the dead center of the circle. “Stand in the center, if you please. Yes, right there.”

I stood in the circle, still wearing my black pants from my job and the white t-shirt I had woken up in. I curled my toes in my running shoes, smiling at the quiet hum of magic that seeped beneath my feet.