Chapter 6
Reva
“Excuse my ignorance,” Frannie says, after the silence has grown thick enough to sprout legs. “But what’s the difference between sorcery and witchcraft? I’ve never seen much of either, so I always thought they were much the same.”
“My mother always told me to stay well away from either,” I add. “She said we were just as likely to wind up part of a sorcerer's spell as a witch’s potion.”
Kit shoots me another unreadable look before reaching out to squeeze my hand. He then turns back to Frannie. “Sorcerers were once human, unlike witches. Their magic isn’t innate in the same way, which means it had to come from somewhere.”
“It—” Frannie blinks at him, like she can’t quite understand what he’s insinuating.
“They absorb magic from others.”
“W-willingly? Like people donate their magic to them?”
“Maybe some people do.” He gives me a look of alarm, and I shrug.
“Probably a good way to earn some extra cash.”
“But that’s not why they’ve got something of a reputation,” Kit continues. “Although not all of them are bad, in my experience.”
Frannie frowns. “How can they not be? You just said they steal people’s magic. How is that possible?”
Kit shakes his head. “Not something I know the details of, fortunately. But I’m assuming it’s some kind of ritual. And you could have sorcerer blood from way back and inherit powers that way.”
He pauses and then jumps to his feet, striding out the door in a flash.
“Is he—”
The front door slams shut, and I share a look with Frannie. He just... left. “He isn’t wearing any clothes.”
“Has he gone off in search of sorcerers?” Frannie asks. “Does he think they’ll be in the market square cooking up more babies to steal their magic, or whatever it is they do?”
“I have no idea.”
She gives a low chuckle, clearing the plates from the table. “You can’t read either of their minds, then? What exactly are the perks of matehood, then?”
“So far, free tattoos for them.” I pause to inspect my arms. “I’m still waiting for mine to appear.”
“Well... aren’t you going after him?”
I glance at Aster, whose chin is resting on his chest, fast asleep. “Am I?”
“He’s wandering around risking showing off his cock to the whole town.”
Snorting softly, I head into the next room in search of a blanket to cover Aster with. “I’m pretty sure Kit’s wearing underwear,” I mumble before I head through to Kit’s bedroom, grabbing a clean outfit from the wardrobe.
“I don’t know why he didn’t change when he was getting clothes for Aster,” I mutter as I return to the kitchen with my haul.
“Maybe it’s his version of a mating dance,” Frannie replies with a chuckle. “Now, I’ll take care of this one while you fetch the cursebreaker back before he gives the whole town a surprise striptease.”
I give a nod and head out, a few minutes behind and with no clue what direction Kit might have headed in. I suppose I should follow the screams, or the gasps of surprise.
Or... laughs, as it turns out.
I find Kit right in the middle of the market square, just like Frannie joked.
He’s hard to miss, surrounded by a small gaggle of people where they’re chatting away in Yarrovian, the local language.
Kit is clearly weaving his magic on the older man with a big, bushy beard and three women of various ages who have gathered around him.
Thankfully, it’s not raining and is on the warm side, considering we’re in the early stages of winter, so he’s not likely to catch his death. I approach slowly and slightly warily, but Kit’s face breaks into a beaming smile when he sees me, sending my stomach flip-flopping.
“Here she is, my lovely m—fiancee.” As soon as I get close enough, Kit wraps his arm around me, tucking me into his side. I raise an eyebrow as I briefly meet his eye. So, we’re telling everyone right away, are we? I ask him silently.
Kit shrugs, his cheeks pinkening.
“I brought you some clothes,” I tell him, thrusting them against his chest.
“How sweet,” one of the older women murmurs, her eyes darting between us like we’re a play being acted out for her entertainment.
“I may have left the house slightly impulsively.” Kit gives a rueful smirk. “I heard something and needed to speak to you all immediately, Mrs Connor, Mr Fik.”
“You need some suggestions for wedding planning?”
He shakes his head gravely. “Nothing so enjoyable, I’m afraid.” There’s a long pause. “Sorcery.”
“Sorcery?” They all seem to recoil at the word, and I wonder if they’d have the same reaction if he had said the words ‘beast-borne’ or ‘shifter’.
“Sorcery right here in our town,” he continues. “A friend of ours fell foul of it, and so we’re trying to find out as much as we can.”
“Of course.”
“Sorcery? Here in Port Yarrow?” the man splutters, tugging anxiously on his long, grey beard.
“What are the signs?” the youngest of the three women asks, giving a delicate shudder. “So that we know what to look out for.”
“Strange comings and goings. Odd smells. People moving around at odd hours, particularly at night. Does any of this sound familiar?”
I stifle a slight chuckle. That sounds exactly like the pub in Ambleby, and I’m fairly sure there’s no sorcery going on in there.
Plenty of people who are up to no good, though.
Three of them stare back with blank expressions, shaking their heads.
The third though, the oldest woman holds up her finger triumphantly. “My neighbour, three down from me, beside Mrs Higgs who always overfills her bins? They always have strange smells coming out of their house at odd hours.”
“Isn’t she a gorgon?”
“Well, yes. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t also in league with sorcerers, does it?”
“I’ll ask around,” the bearded man says with a determined nod before he turns on his heel and strides off.
“Me too,” the younger woman says, clapping her hands together. She takes the arm of the older woman, who doesn’t seem in a hurry to go anywhere.
“If I find anything out, I’ll come by the shop and bring some of those tarts you like,” she tells Kit with a toothy grin.
“That would be wonderful, Mrs Conner.”
The two women skip off down the street while I raise my wide-eyed gaze to Kit.
“What was all that about? Members of your fan club?”
“There’s nothing more powerful than this town’s squad of busybodies,” Kit replies, giving me a quick squeeze before letting go.
“You’d think at least one of them must have some magic, the way they know everything that’s going on around here.
Plus, they tend to meet around this time every day, so I thought I’d strike while the iron is hot. ”
“Would people around here notice, do you think?”
“If sorcery was afoot?” He hums. “Hard to say. They’re incredibly observant when it comes to tedious matters or gossip. You can ask them about anyone in this town, and one of them will know if they’re stepping out on their wife, or they have a nasty habit with the dice, or—”
“They don’t empty their dustbins in a timely manner,” I add drily.
“Exactly.”
“And do they know everything that’s going on with you?” I ask with a smirk, already knowing the answer.
“Well... no.” He blinks down at me. “Parts of me that are curated for their ears.”
I nod. I’ve known him for a couple of years, and he’s helped me out of more than one jam, where I got in over my head, without ever asking for anything in return. He always seems pleased to see me, and has this way about him like talking to you is the absolute best part of his day.
He’s like that with everyone, though. And I’ve seen the way people leave his shop with a bounce in their step and a smile on their faces.
As someone who’s not exactly naturally social, who struggles to talk to people when it’s not out of necessity, I struggle to relate.
But I enjoy watching the spectacle of Kit drawing people in and weaving a web of magic around him, making people want to stay within his orbit.
He’s somehow charming without ever being smarmy with it. Possibly because he has that smile, and when it lands on you, it feels like a warm drink after hours in the frigid cold.
Still though, I feel like I barely know him. How much is real and how much is artifice?
“If you’re wondering how much of me you know is real, it’s more than anyone else around here.”
I shoot him a sideways glance. Bloody mind-reader.
“I’ve never really... been in a relationship before,” I tell him. “And now I feel like I should know everything about you already.”
“Sweetheart, I’ll give you as much of me as you can handle.
” His cheeks grow adorably pink as he chuckles to himself, shaking his head.
“That sounded dirtier than I intended. What I mean is I’ll give you as many pieces of me as I can.
” His smirk softens until it’s a gentle smile that has my cheeks heating.
“Not to scare you or anything. But I’m pretty sure this matehood thing is for life. We have time, sweetheart.”
His hand goes to the small of my back as we head through the streets of Port Yarrow, passing the quaint painted buildings. The bookshop, the apothecary, the butchers and fishmongers, a school with squealing children running around wildly.
We pass by a dry fountain with the statue of a siren, winged and fish-tailed, her lips pouting seductively. Every so often, a spurt of something that looks like sparks of purple fire spurt from her mouth before dying again.
“It’s been like that for a while,” Kit says with an apologetic smile. “The council is supposed to keep it topped up with magic, but it seems to be very low on the list of priorities.”
“Are most people who live here human?”
He hums. “About fifty-fifty, I’d say. We used to have a coven of witches about ten minutes up the road, tucked away in the hills. But they moved on a few months back. Too many complaints to the council about all the orgies.” He clicks his tongue, and my eyes catch on something silver.
His tongue... it’s pierced. My attention lingers there for longer than is polite until I force my eyes away, back to scouting the town centre.
“Uh, orgies?”