The Mage's Heart (Love and Other Sorcery #1)

Chapter 4

　　I looked in the direction of the voice without pulling Coryfe to a stop. I could make him out, a tangle of limbs and cloth, strung by a net and suspended in the boughs of a tree, a little off the path. What were the chances, I wondered, of two travellers on this road at night, and one of them being unwise enough to venture off the road and become ensnared by a net?

　　I considered him. “You could be a trap to lure a traveller off the trail,” I told him.

　　He laughed, dryly. “I think I am the trapped traveller.”

　　“How did you get yourself trapped up there?” I asked him, we were drawing equal to his tree.

　　I did not have long to decide what to do, without having to retrace my steps. I could make out details of him within the net now. A sizeable, booted foot hung out between the weave, the boot finely made and tooled with elaborate detail, the sole barely showing wear. The cloth of his cloak was lushly dyed in a dark blue and embroidered at the hem with a glinting thread. Whoever this man was, he came from wealth.

　　“Must I recount my entire day?” he was irritable, wriggling within the net and setting it to swaying.

　　“I am not the one strung up,” I replied, keeping my voice polite. If he were a trap set by one of the magical brethren, manners would serve me well.

　　“A call of nature,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

　　“Ah. It’s unwise to step off the trail, even for such things,” I told him.

　　“Evidently,” he retorted. “Will you help me, or not?”

　　I drew Coryfe to a halt. “Don’t you carry a knife?”

　　“It’s on the ground,” he stuck a hand between the weave and pointed down. I could just detect a glimmer in the grasses.

　　“You must have the worst luck,” I commented, and took an arrow from my quiver.

　　“Yes. You don’t mean to shoot, seriously?” he complained.

　　I set the arrow to the bow, aimed, and released. He yelled, the sound overloud in the silence of the forest, as he fell. He hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. For a moment, there was no sound, and then he groaned as he sat up. “F-k,” he muttered the curse word, plucking bits of twigs and leaves from his hair as he regained his feet.

　　He stooped to pick up his dagger, and returned it to the sheath on his hip, before limping out onto the road. He was a big man, taller and wider of shoulder than my father, who was easily the biggest man in my village. His clothing was as fine as I suspected, from boots to cloak, heavy with embroidery and of luxurious material, vividly dyed. The cloak was a midnight blue, just shy of black, and lined with something with sheen. There were jewels in the pommel of the dagger, catching the moonlight.

　　He picked debris from his hair, as he glowered up at me. “There were kinder ways of doing that,” he chastised me. He had a wild sort of beauty under the tangled fall of his hair, his face given more to fierceness than to charming smiles from the set of his lips and the scowl of his brow. The sort of beauty that made a maiden’s heart pound and think of the lyrics of love songs.

　　“None that didn’t involve leaving the road. As it is, you have cost me an arrow.”

　　He walked up to Coryfe who snorted in response. “Your horse doesn’t like me.”

　　“You smell of magic,” I replied.

　　“I guess that’s to be expected. I am a mage, after all,” he placed his hands onto the saddle, and lifted himself up with impressive strength and grace, settling himself behind me before the protest formed on my lips.

　　“I don’t remember offering you a ride.”

　　He placed his hands on my waist. His hands were large, like his feet, and the nails neatly maintained. Not the hands of someone given to physical labour. “You’d hardly leave me out here,” he said with confidence. “We’d best keep going,” he added. “People who leave traps for men, aren’t people you want to encounter on dark roads.”

　　I urged Coryfe on.

　　“I can’t ride with your arrows in my face,” he complained, and pulled the quiver and bow from me, slinging them over his own back, and settled himself closer on the saddle. He was warm against my back, and his thighs against mine were long boned and strong. The last time I had been this close to a man had been when my father had taught me to ride a horse as a child, and this man was not my father. I felt the flush heating my chest and cheeks.

　　“How is it that a mage could not free himself from a net?” I asked to distract myself from his body against mine.

　　He made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. “Do you think it so easy to use magic? You need the right components. I have a dagger, why would I carry components for such a spell?”

　　“For the event that you drop your dagger through the weave of a net?” I suggested, trying to keep my voice bland. In tale, it was always unwise to provoke magic users.

　　“Hmmm.”