Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He pushes into the palace; his son screeches his name, rushes towards him, and pounces into his arms. Veronica follows, gently chiding the boy as Quin sheds the sternness he had with me and lifts him over his head, using magic to spin them around. “You’re getting heavier every day.”
“Soon I’ll be as big as you!” He giggles. “When can I visit? I miss Generalus.”
At Quin’s fatherly-warm reply, I pick up my cloak and tie a knot to keep it in place. Nicostratus was right. I just . . . Florentius . . .
“Shield!” Nicostratus yells from behind, and I whisk on the spot and freeze—
The sword doesn’t land. I’m sure it wouldn’t have anyway—Nicostratus would have pulled back. But something stops his sword before he can. The glow around me booms outward at the attack and punches his weapon away.
“That’s not your shield,” Nicostratus murmurs. He tries to come forward, but the aura around me stops him coming any closer than a foot.
I frown. Nicostratus can’t reach out and touch me, but I seem to be able to reach through and touch him. I pull his sleeve. “Your brother did this. What is it?”
“A cloaking shield. Some use it when they fear poison; it won’t let anything harmful in. Nor out, for that matter, so if you were planning on poisoning anyone, best not to while wearing a shield like this.”
“Poison anyone! I’m a healer.” I pause. “Some medicines are poisons though.”
Nicostratus nods.
I ask him to try to touch me again; he can’t. “Couldn’t you wear this all the time? Instead of armour?”
“Magic is mighty, but it’s fickle. What if the shield dissolves mid-attack? You’d be left with no protection. It’s always better not rely on it.”
I shake my arm, but the glow doesn’t waver. “How long does it last?”
“My brother’s shield will last longer than most. Perhaps, though,” Nicostratus grins, “not as long as mine.”
I laugh. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“That depends. Are you impressed?”
He laughs and I follow his footsteps to the canal on a hummed sigh. His kindness is always a warm blanket, a safe space. Cozy, comforting. Definitely not sharp with a propensity to utter harsh truths.
“Let me take you to your quarters,” Nicostratus offers.
I glance along the water to a boat of retiring aklas. Any one of them could be a spy for the duke . . . “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“It’s a stop on my way.” He steps into a small boat and reaches out to haul me in with him. Blocked. I reach through the shield and grab hold of him. He smiles and helps me aboard.
I sit with a relieved sigh and roll my shoulders.
At Nicostratus’s questioning look, I smile. “Tired. I performed a dozen medius spells on the queen’s aklas today and was up most of last night practicing transplantation on my toenails.”
Nicostratus looks curiously towards my booted feet.
“They’ll grow back.”
He smirks and takes up the oars; we lurch forward with his powerful stroke. “I have a question for you, Amuletos.”
“Go on.”
“All that tea you drink every day . . .”
I smirk. “You want to know how often I have to pee?”
His eyes dance, and I can’t help but laugh.
“The same as a typical person. Vitalian spells often need substantial amounts of water, and what’s not absorbed through the spell comes off in the exertion of delivery.” I raise my brows. “Any other questions?”
“Yes, one more. May I kiss you again?”
My stomach lurches giddily; I hold my breath, then let it out unevenly. He leans forward, but the shield expands to stop him. I’d have to go to him.
My stomach bubbles. I can’t move.
Our boat bumps into the bank at the scholarly precinct, and it breaks us further apart. Nicostratus smiles. “Next time.”
I watch him go, then head to the apothecary library.
An hour later, the glow fades from my skin and I laugh at a stray thought. Quin said the shield would help me keep my distance. I’d thought that meant from him, but . . .
“What are you thinking?” Mikros sinks into the space just beyond the book I’m gazing past.
I jolt, and . . . rivet my eyes on the pages before me. “This. It’s interesting.”
“Study away, study away,” Mikros says, and perches himself on my desk. “But it’d help to do this.” He flips my book right way up.
I blink and focus on his amused expression. My cheeks flush and I hurriedly flip through some pages. “My . . . first transplantation spell didn’t work out.”
Mikros leans casually against the desk with a teasing grin. “You’d be a genius if it did!”
From behind a bookshelf, Makarios’s head appears, his scowl playful. “It took him a hundred days. Me, much longer.”
Mikros smirks. “To your everlasting chagrin. Florentius might only need a couple of months, though.” He pauses, letting that fact sink in. “His father is the great Chiron, after all.”