Chapter 16
The horse and its rider come to a tight stop, Quin a proud silhouette against moonlight. Only the readjustment of his reins hints at his surprise. The horse’s tail whooshes and Quin claps her neck. He eyes me approaching with a shake of my head.
His gaze sinks down and shoots to my face again. “What happened to your foot?”
“It’s nothing. I had a drink and rolled it.”
“You shouldn’t be walking.”
I grin. “Since when are you the vitalian?”
I hobble forward some more, and he growls. “How in all the kingdoms did you pass today? Stop!”
“It’s the lovelight festival, I can’t see much from here. I want to head up the hill and then I want pecan puffs. It’s all about priorities.”
“Wait.” Quin moves his horse to a tree at the side of the street and tosses the reins over a low-hanging branch, quietly chastising me with his eyes as I limp over.
He unhooks his bad leg from the stirrup and sits upright, hands dancing delicately as he calls his magic. His gaze ticks upward to the sky.
The air whistles around us, stronger and stronger, and magically arranged gusts lift us into the air. I lurch upwards with it, one hand latching onto Quin’s sleeve. “Wait, Quin! A bit of warning next time.”
“You said you wanted to see.”
“Yes, from something solid. You know, like land?”
He doesn’t respond. The wind propels us higher.
A pale cloud floats in our path and Quin draws it towards him with his magic. “Sit.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I mutter.
His mouth twitches, just barely. Not quite a smile.
My stomach hops . . . because with the almost-smile is a gleam in his eyes. Like he really, really wants me sitting on his cloud.
Quin perches on the apparently—impossibly—firm cloud.
I’m still balancing on air currents, half bent, still tightly gripping his sleeve.
He pats beside him with a beckoning, teasing brow.
I shake my head. “I don’t trust you enough to sit on a glorified puddle!” I glance down and shut my eyes at the very long fall below. “Please?”
I only whisper it; I barely let it seep from my mouth. Wind pockets me and slowly, carefully sinks me downwards. I ping my eyes open. The cloud is floating off above us, and Quin is descending with me toward tiered rooftops.
I drop to the frosted tiles with a relieved sigh. Quin deposits himself neatly onto the ridgeline, garnet-red cloak fluttering under him like a blanket. I curl mine under me and around my bent knees. “Thank you,” I murmur, again just barely.
He looks at me and his gaze sweeps down. “Your foot,” he says.
I blink at him.
He gestures to my shoddy boot. I continue gaping until he reaches for it himself, setting it upon his knee. I suck in a sharp breath at the tenderness in my ankle and his fingers lighten around it, carefully tugging off the leather.
“Instruct me,” he demands.
“The alcohol will wear off soon, I can do it then.”
He gives me a sharp look and I stare at him, socked foot still perched on his warm lap. Under my guidance, he funnels healing magic into my ankle, and the steady warm flow eases my ache.
I glance at his leg. Surely I’m pressing against his pain. Yet when I try to shift, he holds me in place, his focus entirely on me.
As soon as his magic fades, I swing my foot off him and shove it into my boot. “You’re a quick study,” I tease. “You could have a career in healing.”
“Good to know I have options.”
We shift our gaze to the view at the same time.
Heavens.
The entire snowy capital can be seen from up here; thousands of street lanterns, and lovelights—blossoming out of couples along the canals. Every light shines uniquely, some a bright flash, others a slow steady burn. One couple’s burst like a fountain, sparkling down on them.
“To love and be loved like that . . .” I murmur.
Quin’s profile softens in the silvery moonlight. His lashes are thick and long, his eyes reflecting the dance of lights below. He looks almost wistful, beholding the capital like this. Like these lovelights are an unattainable joy.
“So many. Maybe even you will have that someday.”
He slides his gazes to mine sideways with the shake of his head. “You could at least sound like you meant that.” He returns his focus to the canal below, and after a moment, clears his throat. “Why were you on your own? Shouldn’t you be spending this night with someone?”
“They left.”
“Did he?”
He. “How did you know . . .”
“So he abandoned you.”
“It’s not like that. He was summoned by the—by his brother.” I sigh and it clouds into the cool air. “My potential future brother-in-law will be the worst.”
Quin glances at me, one eyebrow lifting.
I laugh. “I’m sure you’d give him a run for his money. Why were you riding the streets alone?”
“I wanted to sneak a look.”
“At the lights?”
“My brother has fallen for someone.”
“Love. Must be in the water.” I throw him a bright smile. “Were they happy? Were they sharing their lights?”
He sighs, feigning grief. “I lost track of him and found you instead.”
“By all means . . .” I gesture to his horse below.
He doesn’t budge. “I’ll have my curiosity sated soon enough. This way you get your thankyou gift. For saving me.”
I nod. “I absolutely love sitting on this icy roof with you. You, too, excel at gift-giving—”
Sharp laughter. Quin curls an arm around my shoulders and pulls me atop his extended cloak, soft and immediately warming under me. He says, “I haven’t given you anything yet.”
My gaze jumps to his. The subtle weight of the gift I’m carrying for him shifts against my thigh.
His eyebrows quirk and he pulls back, admiring another dazzling spray of lovelights below. “Tell me about the exam first. Were you nervous?”
I let out a shuddery breath as I think back on the day; how much has happened. “There were a few questions where I feared, for a moment, I’d let everyone down.”
“It’s by no means an easy examination. I fear they made last-minute amendments to make it especially difficult.”
“Especially?”
“Knowing you’d be taking part.”
“A self-taught commoner with a measly magic root.” I laugh coldly.
“You represent change. That’s what many of them fear most.”
We stare at a couple on a boat, their hair swirling around their heads, tangling as their lovelights whirl around them.
“If you hadn’t taught me how to leech magic so I could wield the pen, I would have failed at the first diagnosis.”
He looks at me blankly. “If you’d failed over a technicality like that, I’d be up in arms, demanding a redo of the whole thing.”
“Nevertheless, it’s thanks to you I passed.”
“Thank yourself. You’re the one who has come up against, and overcome, every possible obstacle.”
My throat aches and I swallow thickly. With a shaky finger, I poke Quin’s arm. “Where’s my gift?”
From an inner pocket of his cloak, Quin draws a rolled piece of fabric. It shimmers blue and silver in the moonlight. The colours of river pearl; the colours that border my soldad.
His fingers slide over my wrist and mine jump.
He pauses, fractionally, then tugs my hand toward him.
The fabric unfurls, breaking into two fingerless gloves.
He slips the soft, thin fabric over my hand, steers the thumb into its neatly sewn slit, and unravels the glove up my wrist. My palms are instantly warmer.
My head snaps up. “Mountain pearl-reed?”
He hums, and I curl my fingers tight over the rare fabric. Exceptionally strong, lighter than silk. “This is far too precious.”
“Not more than your hands. These”—he picks up my other hand and my skin tickles as he carefully slips the second glove into place—”will protect your skin from the backlash of spells. They’ll keep you warm in winter and cool in summer.”
His marble face is turned toward the glove he’s carefully adjusting. The whole capital is ice and snow and magical silvery lights, but the foot between us is shimmery turquoise pearl that radiates heat through my whole body. I wriggle my fingers and smile at him.
Abruptly, he lets me go and casts his gaze towards the capital, frowning. “It’s simple gratitude.”
I bump my shoulder against his. “Do you want to see my gratitude?”
“Not if the last time is anything to go by.”
I laugh and feel along my belt, knuckles bumping Nicostratus’s beads. I open the pouch that holds Quin’s gift and draw out the wood.
Quin stares and stills, and I’m hit with a sudden nervous flutter. I hope it’s right this time. Heart jumping, I open my mouth to speak.
Quin murmurs first, “Violet oak.”
“Someone gave it to me.” I slap the gift against his chest and retreat. “There.”
He catches it before it tumbles to his lap and holds it up to the moonlight. “Someone gave you . . .”
“I didn’t steal the wood,” I say, trying to snatch it back.
He moves it away from me. “You carved this yourself?” His voice is deep and curious, and my stomach jumps again.
“It’s supposed to be a flutette. Infused against pain.” I glance at his leg. “Press it to your mouth, you’ll feel it take effect. Play a calming melody and the effect should double.”
He stares at the pocket-sized flutette.
“You have a connection with air, a wind instrument made the most sense . . .”
He feels each carved nook.
“It should last a year before it needs to be infused again.”
He slips the instrument inside his cloak.
“It’s not as effective as the spell through your acupoints, but when pain flares up, playing gentle music will alleviate the worst of it. For any pain.”
He presses his palm against the pocket and drops his fingers.
“I still need to learn more about how to manipulate sound to improve the result, but—”
“Thank you.”
My shoulders relax and I laugh shakily, leaning back against the roof, my cloak spilling behind me. I stare up at the twinkling stars. “I should head home.” I grin. “I have something to prove tomorrow.”
“Indeed.” Quin drops a badge onto my stomach. “This will get you the use of my rooms at my academy. They have pecan puffs too. Enjoy another hour. Eat and sleep there.”
“What about you?”
“I have other places.”