perhaps we could be together after all.
Chapter 13
T he sun never rose too early that spring as I anticipated every morning spent with Torrid. Sneaking out of the house became second nature and tracing the path that led to the meadow was like heading home.
“Today I want to work on the subtleties of magic,” Torrid said.
Sitting on a pretty swing for two he’d conjured up, we sat together for our morning lesson. I had so much catching up to do, learning at 18 what the young Magical Ones learned at eight. But Torrid insisted I was a fast learner and I was now near the level of education I should be.
“Subtleties?” I asked as I ran my hand over the fine wood of the swing. The intricate work on the backrest could have adorned the finest home. Flowers, birds and bees were carved into the wood, down to the tiniest detail. “Like all the work and details you put into this swing?”
“This degree of intricacy and precision takes a lot of practice. You’ll get there one day.” With one knee propped up between us, he sat facing me while his long leg anchored us to the ground, pushing us up and down in a light lull.
I leaned back on the armrest, looking at him. He was so talented, I wondered if I would ever reach his level of precision. He was so good-looking, I wondered if I’d ever get past it. Concentrating on his lessons was at times impossible as my mind wandered off to intimate places. I blame my raging hormones and the fact I waited for so long for Liam and I to get together. Following the separation from Liam, I was feeling more and more attracted to Torrid.
“But I’m sure you’ll notice a flaw.”
I looked up. For all the intricacies of the swing, it was roped up to a thin and frail branch that couldn’t possibly hold our weight, yet it did.
“There are times when you can do the most outrageous, outlandish magic and no one will bat an eye, notably other Magical Ones. However, there are times when you want the magic to simply go unnoticed. This swing, for example. The intricacy of the woodwork is plausible, but were a mere mortal to pass by and see us hanging on a branch barely strong enough to hold a raven, our trickery would be exposed.”
“So you want the magic to always have a degree of reality.”
“When in the presence of mortals, yes. Of course this is important to the Magical Ones living inside Arcadian boundaries. Their magic must always go unnoticed. The few who’ve slipped up over the years have had to pay heavily.”
“Have any Arcadians ever noticed something fishy?” I’d never heard anyone comment on the possibility of magic in Arcadia. Everything we saw and heard seemed perfectly natural and normal.
“I’ve heard of three cases. Fifteen years ago a young Magical One mended a broken down lamppost too quickly. A resident in a nearby home happened to be looking out the window when the lamppost magically rose and stood upright. The Magical One was quietly and discreetly accused of sorcery and banished, but the Arcadian resident who’d witnessed it all mysteriously disappeared.”
I suddenly remembered a flash flood that had destroyed a few stately homes by the river. “The flood two years ago,” I said, the news story flashing before my eyes.
Torrid nodded. “Pressure was put on the Magical Ones to fix the damage quickly. This time it was the Arcadian Committee who was unrealistic. Of course when the homes were reopened only days later, good as new, many residents suspected something was up. The Magical Ones and the inquisitive residents were rounded up and never heard from again.”
For the next hour he had me conjure up a variety of objects, guiding and correcting me along the way. He taught me tricks that helped my concentration, had me seeing objects in a clear and elaborate fashion.
After my third failed attempt at making an ornate antique vase appear, Torrid took my hands in his and pressed them together.
“You may be over thinking it too much,” he
Chapter 13
T he sun never rose too early that spring as I anticipated every morning spent with Torrid. Sneaking out of the house became second nature and tracing the path that led to the meadow was like heading home.
“Today I want to work on the subtleties of magic,” Torrid said.
Sitting on a pretty swing for two he’d conjured up, we sat together for our morning lesson. I had so much catching up to do, learning at 18 what the young Magical Ones learned at eight. But Torrid insisted I was a fast learner and I was now near the level of education I should be.
“Subtleties?” I asked as I ran my hand over the fine wood of the swing. The intricate work on the backrest could have adorned the finest home. Flowers, birds and bees were carved into the wood, down to the tiniest detail. “Like all the work and details you put into this swing?”
“This degree of intricacy and precision takes a lot of practice. You’ll get there one day.” With one knee propped up between us, he sat facing me while his long leg anchored us to the ground, pushing us up and down in a light lull.
I leaned back on the armrest, looking at him. He was so talented, I wondered if I would ever reach his level of precision. He was so good-looking, I wondered if I’d ever get past it. Concentrating on his lessons was at times impossible as my mind wandered off to intimate places. I blame my raging hormones and the fact I waited for so long for Liam and I to get together. Following the separation from Liam, I was feeling more and more attracted to Torrid.
“But I’m sure you’ll notice a flaw.”
I looked up. For all the intricacies of the swing, it was roped up to a thin and frail branch that couldn’t possibly hold our weight, yet it did.
“There are times when you can do the most outrageous, outlandish magic and no one will bat an eye, notably other Magical Ones. However, there are times when you want the magic to simply go unnoticed. This swing, for example. The intricacy of the woodwork is plausible, but were a mere mortal to pass by and see us hanging on a branch barely strong enough to hold a raven, our trickery would be exposed.”
“So you want the magic to always have a degree of reality.”
“When in the presence of mortals, yes. Of course this is important to the Magical Ones living inside Arcadian boundaries. Their magic must always go unnoticed. The few who’ve slipped up over the years have had to pay heavily.”
“Have any Arcadians ever noticed something fishy?” I’d never heard anyone comment on the possibility of magic in Arcadia. Everything we saw and heard seemed perfectly natural and normal.
“I’ve heard of three cases. Fifteen years ago a young Magical One mended a broken down lamppost too quickly. A resident in a nearby home happened to be looking out the window when the lamppost magically rose and stood upright. The Magical One was quietly and discreetly accused of sorcery and banished, but the Arcadian resident who’d witnessed it all mysteriously disappeared.”
I suddenly remembered a flash flood that had destroyed a few stately homes by the river. “The flood two years ago,” I said, the news story flashing before my eyes.
Torrid nodded. “Pressure was put on the Magical Ones to fix the damage quickly. This time it was the Arcadian Committee who was unrealistic. Of course when the homes were reopened only days later, good as new, many residents suspected something was up. The Magical Ones and the inquisitive residents were rounded up and never heard from again.”
For the next hour he had me conjure up a variety of objects, guiding and correcting me along the way. He taught me tricks that helped my concentration, had me seeing objects in a clear and elaborate fashion.
After my third failed attempt at making an ornate antique vase appear, Torrid took my hands in his and pressed them together.
“You may be over thinking it too much,” he
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