Bones of the Fair by Host Andrea K

Author:Host, Andrea K
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, magic, high fantasy, strong women
Publisher: Andrea K Host

Chapter Thirteen

Blood. Oozing from shallow cuts wherever Djol's armour had not protected him, spattered across the green and tan colours of Sax. Aspen, usually the last person to look anywhere near an open wound, drank in every crimson line.

And the man. Gods, Guard Dog had been totally the wrong thing to call him. Aspen could hit himself for not spotting the lie, but how could he have known that stolid little yes-man was a front for all this? Passion, command, arrogance. Yes, definitely, in that cool survey of his audience, and the economical production of a cloth to dry his blade. This was a man who did not see himself surrounded by his betters, and deservedly so. The phoenix that had burst from the heat of battle trotted at no man's heels.

Rearranging his mental list to place Djol on par with Aristide and Aloren, Aspen looked around to check who else was finding the Easterner by far the most interesting thing in the valley. The Atlarans were oblivious, muttering staunching spells over Dest, but most everyone else was watching him. Jurasel's gaze was definitely speculative, and Rydan's calf-love open. And Gentian. Gentian, who was supposed to be safely obsessed with the Diamond, was staring at Djol with a kind of bemused surprise that surely boded no good. Aspen wasn't pleased. It was one thing for the little gardening mage to batter herself uselessly against Diamond cliffs. It would be outright greedy of her to go hunting Phoenix as well.

"That certainly livened up the afternoon," Jurasel said, breaking the silence with sudden droll glee. "Welcome to the club, Dhara. You've gotten off more lightly than we did first time out."

"There's nothing light about this," Dhara replied sourly. She was watching her wife and children belatedly advancing. "I felt no hint of that casting being set upon me. Despite detects specifically designed to catch any attempt."

And she'd ruined his theory about Magisters being too hard to manipulate, Aspen groused silently. Unless...unless their hidden Foe was getting better at this game.

"Was that pure conjuring?" Rydan asked. "Or was that actually the one behind all this? Projecting himself outside his prison?"

"Who can tell? If nothing else, an apt demonstration that this is no ally in our attempts to escape." Chenar dusted the knees of his borrowed Fae clothing. "Unless anyone cares to suggest that mutual need led it to try to cut us to little pieces?"

"No." Djol, marching up with the cloth now tied about the deepest cut on his forearm, called the sheathe of his sword in one of the few displays of magic Aspen had seen from him. "My blows didn't injure him," he added, and Aspen was delighted to see those black eyes still full of fire and assurance. "He could have ignored them, had me at any time. Whatever else, that was no attempt to kill us."

"No doubt the whole thing was arranged to cut the tedium with a short athletic display," Seylon Heresar remarked.

For a moment, pure cynical disdain

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