18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter eighteen
If my fraying temper is anything to go by, I'd guess we've been at this for at least a few hours by the time Marlia says we're finally ready for the final step.
I suspect we would have been out of here a while ago, if she wasn't thoroughly enjoying having a captive audience for her stories about commissions and life with her husband in this little settlement.
The seamstress stands at Cayzenn's side, and I pull my silk robe tighter around me, painfully uncomfortable to be nearly naked beneath it while they do something to the new clothes I'm trying to come to terms with.
I stare, transfixed, as they hold their hands in front of their hearts and rapidly rub thumb and forefinger together until tiny threads of glowing light appear, stretch out, and connect right with left.
Where the threads meet, a swirling ball forms and grows into a more distinct shape resembling an acorn.
No bigger than my fingernail, the translucent kernels of power spin slowly, refracting tiny rainbow droplets when touched by the light from the huge bay window on the far wall.
When they sprout luminous shoots, the two Wielders move their hands closer.
As if sensing each other, the tendrils reach out and start to blend.
His, the bright sparking silver of Shield magic, a stark contrast to the dark blue shimmering strands she weaves as an Adaptor.
The tendrils twist fully into each other, and Marlia and the Commander cease the hand movements, pressing the glowing intertwined seeds into the hem of the first piece of clothing.
We watch as they melt, losing shape and spreading across the fabric before sinking into it, leaving only sparks of light behind.
Smiling at each other, they trail outstretched hands over each item draped across the long workbench, repeating the process over and over.
Each time, they cut off the power and prick a finger with their Ritual daggers, drawing the tiniest amount of blood they use to seal the fragment of their magic inside the fabrics.
Looking up, Cayzenn catches my gaze as I follow every gesture he makes, every shimmer of magic as it's absorbed.
I wait for him to tease me for being so fascinated, but, to my surprise, he chooses to answer the unasked question in my eyes.
"We're weaving the protective, defensive elements of my magic with these materials Marlia created to imbue against damage and keep them fresh and clean for weeks.
While I'm strengthening every layer, she's ensuring it stays pliable and molded to fit you perfectly.
The benefits of wearing armor, without any of the weight and inconvenience when we need to be agile. "
So that's why he's been hanging around. I feel a rush of warmth at the thought, especially considering he doesn't exactly want me here.
Not to mention, any magic that's imbued is not replenished, so he's giving up power for me.
Not that he'll notice the loss with such an excess, but it's still… nice.
"Thank you," I murmur, not knowing what else to say.
He pauses for a second then nods, going back to working in a comfortable silence.
It's incredible to see the way their two magics combine.
While I've seen imbuing once or twice, I've never heard of multiple magics fusing for a shared purpose like this.
The expanded possibilities with different combinations of all four types of magic are mind-bending.
"I'm so happy you chose this material, young man.
I think it's lovely, even if I don't know how it ended up this color.
It's a good thing I remembered it when you came to place the order last night.
" Marlia nudges Cayzenn as they work on the final few pieces.
"A little more notice next time, though, if you please.
It takes a bit to make sure my magic is replenished.
I'm not as young and sprightly as I used to be.
Takes it out of me to sew this much and imbue. "
"You still look pretty young and sprightly to me," he replies with a wink.
"I know it's a lot to ask, thank you for doing it.
" Gods, now I feel guilty they're both expending so much energy and sacrificing magic for me.
He looks my way and adds, "Hope you like the purple.
Figured it would suit you better than generic black protective gear. "
I smile up at him, thoughts all over the place. "I do, thanks." I'm more than a little overwhelmed and don't know what else to do or say.
"Watch out for this one. He's a smooth talker.
" Marlia glances at me with a conspiratory wink as she ties off her final knot and seals it.
I grin back, caught up in her warmth. They finally seem satisfied that every piece of clothing has been imbued, and the three of us survey their impressive handiwork.
The workbench is covered in two full sets of leathers, plus gloves and a pair of black, thick-soled boots now perfectly molded to fit my feet.
Not to mention, the overflowing satchel by the door, full of fleece-lined socks, silky-soft cotton shirts, and lighter-weight pants for sleeping and training. At least I get to keep my own underwear. Thank the Goddess for small mercies.
Ducking back behind the screen for the final time, I dress in the now perfectly fitting ensemble.
Cayzenn drapes the matching leather jacket over the top of the screen.
"The finishing touch," he says, and I slip it on, buttoning it closed despite the sweltering heat from the fire.
With the sun sinking low outside the window, I know I'll be grateful for the jacket's warmth as soon as we leave.
"Get your boots on. I'm going to settle up with Marlia. And before you try to give me coin, don't. Your money's no good here." He's gone by the time I step out from behind the screen, doing as I'm told for once and balancing on the edge of a low stool to lace up my boots.
I'm about to head down the hall when I spot a long mirror in the far corner of the room.
I've imagined the worst all day, having no idea what I look like.
Pausing briefly in front of the mirror, I spare a single glance the length of heartbeat, just long enough to make sure I'm definitely fully covered and everything is sitting right.
Though I've somewhat adjusted to the clothes after getting in and out of them multiple times.
I still can't bring myself to look at everything on display for any longer than I have to.
I barely recognize the woman staring back at me with a hint of panic on her face. I've never worn anything like this.
I take a self-indulgent second to wish, just once, I could look at my reflection and not jump straight to listing my flaws.
Hard as it is, I make myself stay and at least appreciate the beautiful color of the supple leather, a deep, rich purple so dark, it's creeping toward black.
The leathers are cut the same as the Shields and Endurers wear, but I've never seen them in this unique shade.
I can admit, the outfit does make me feel a little stronger. I actually kind of look like a–
"You look like a Shield," Cayzenn's low voice rumbles from where he's leaning against the doorway, trailing his eyes over me in assessment. He's right; the attire at least makes me look the part, even if I still feel like an imposter underneath.
"Let's go. The others will be wondering where we are," he says, hooking the bags over one forearm.
I follow him down the long hallway, thanking Marlia warmly for all her hard work and efforts today.
Then, we're out in the icy winter evening, our boots crunching over the fresh layer of snow on the tree-lined path.
"What did she mean when she said you ordered all this yesterday?" I ask after a few minutes of silence, gesturing toward myself then the overloaded bags.
"Did you think she just happened to have full sets of perfectly sized leathers laying around?" Cayzenn replies sarcastically. "On the off chance someone happened to stop by and need them, someone who would have already been issued their own set, if they had any business being out here?"
I give him my best unimpressed scowl without any real intent behind it. "How could you possibly have given her notice, not to mention measurements–weird, by the way–if you only decided to let us go with you a few hours ago?"
He smirks. "Your stubborn expression last night was identical to the look on your face when you told me about Giving Day.
Something about refusing to take no for an answer, if I remember correctly?
It was pretty damn clear you'd be a pain about going back no matter what I said, so I came to see Marlia and placed the order. And, what do you know—I was right."
It's next to impossible not to laugh at his utter arrogance at having read me so thoroughly.
I don't want to feed that giant ego, so I distract myself by watching the last ribbons of sunlight paint the fields of snow in hazy shades of pink and orange against the darkening sky.
It reminds me of the way their magics combined earlier.
Blending two different types of power goes against everything I've seen growing up. From the moment our schooling splits away from the Trivialis kids at age thirteen and we start learning about magic, we’re taught to hold onto it like the dragons hoarded treasure.
Use it to restore and replenish the land as intended?
Sure, especially within the city. Show off how strong you are and what you can do with your gifts?
Absolutely. Sharing freely like that? It's unusual, to say the least.
There's plenty of collaboration. A Remedy creates a unique blend of florals and botanicals for a fragrance, then an Adaptor determines what oil will hold and carry the scents to make up a perfume.
Or a team of Adaptors will till a field, Remedies will plant it out with seedlings, and a powerful Shield or two will protect the area from harsh weather and pests.
Magic also equates to status, and Wielders are constantly trying to come up with new ways to use it to their own advantage.
"So your Shield magic makes these more durable, stops them getting ripped to shreds while you're crawling under hedges and scaling mountains?" I joke, running my hands down my sides, over the smooth leather. "You said they repel dirt, what about water? Do they also–"
A frosty shower of sludgy snow pours down my shoulders and back in a deluge.
I yelp, trying to get away from the icy onslaught, but I'm caught on something.
No, someone. Twisting to look back, I see Cayzenn giving me an evil grin as he holds my waist with one hand and shakes snow from the giant branch of a pine tree directly over me with the other.
"What the hell are you doing?" I cry, wrenching myself out of his grip hard enough that I spin around and end up tumbling into a pile of fresh snow.
He loses it, almost crying with laughter as it tumbles over my shoulders, finally sobering enough to lean down and pull me to my feet before I can tell him to fuck off.
Now, we're standing so close, the heat from his body blankets me, a stark contrast to the chill I was surrounded by seconds ago.
My fury softens, mellowing into a different kind of heat when he slides a warm finger under my chin and tilts my head up until I'm looking at him. I’m mesmerized by the tiny ice crystals clinging to his stubbled jaw, framing a mouth made for sinning, half hidden by the tiny puffs of cloud from our mingling breath.
Without meaning to, I part my lips slightly, and his eyes darken as he stares at my mouth, leaning in slowly until we're less than an inch apart. My cheeks flush at his nearness, his presence taking up all the air.
We're too close, or not close enough. I don't know which, maybe both.
I should move, take a step away. Instead, we stay like that, watching, waiting, breathing each other in, both refusing to close the miniscule gap separating our mouths, yet seemingly unwilling to put distance between us either.
He moves so his hot breath tickles my ear, and I fight every instinct to tilt my head.
"You seemed to be doubting my skills back there," he whispers, and I shiver. "So I figured a little demonstration would reassure you."
His words sink in, and I pull back, staring in disbelief. "Are you serious?" I demand, fury roaring back to life to hide my embarrassment at being caught up in him like that. "You half drowned me to prove how badass your magic is?"
"You won't be able to handle the mountains if you can't cope with a little snow." He shrugs, and I return his borderline evil smile with a glare. "Oh, come on. What's the issue? You're hardly even wet. As far as I know, anyway."
He winks and turns to pick up the bags before striding down the path, leaving me staring after him in stunned silence. If my hand-eye coordination wasn't complete and utter shit, I'd be hurling a giant snowball directly at his head as fast as possible.
The man is so gods damn irritating, even more so because he happens to be right. My clothes are completely dry, not a flake of white or a drop of water clings to me. Even the snow around my boots is repelled as I stomp after him. Fucking magic.
Whatever that was, it can't happen again. Of all the men in Raviaz, that one could not be any more off-limits, for a thousand different reasons. Only problem is, I'm not sure my traitorous body cares, because that’s the second time he’s almost kissed me, and I’m not sure I’ll survive a third.