Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters Book 2) Page 2

  For a few moments, nothing changed. Rhys’s scowl grew darker.

  The narwit rocked, then scrambled to its feet, blinking and wiggling its nose. Circe grinned.

  Rhys’s eyebrows climbed in increments to his hairline. He donned his enchanted glasses again and examined the narwit’s internal happenings. “Remarkable. Circe, you’ve done it!”

  Circe flourished her hand and took a bow. “Glad I could help.”

  He removed his glasses and locked eyes with her. Again, the intensity of his stare made her knees wobble, but this time she saw more in his expression. The corner of his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Rhys never smiled. That twist of lip made her feel important. Vital. Like her heart had never beat before he’d gazed in her direction. She had to remember to breathe.

  “You truly are a brilliant and gifted witch, Circe.”

  “Th-thank you,” she stammered.

  He stepped closer to her, until mere inches remained between them, and the slightly herbal scent of his skin filled her nose. She doubted he was the type to wear cologne and thought it must be his soap or the remnants of the herbs he gathered every morning. Ugh, he was so handsome. That curl that persistently teased his forehead no matter how many times he tucked the rest of his hair behind his ears drove her mad, and the deep blue of his eyes was worthy of drowning in.

  “I’m very lucky to have you here,” he said softly, his attention drifting to her lips. “I meant what I said before about wanting you to stay. I need you here, no matter how many windows those bastards break.”

  She allowed the intense connection between them to draw her forward another fraction of an inch. His lips were full, and he looked at her from under impossibly long lashes. He leaned forward. Circe’s heart thudded in her chest. Was he going to kiss her?

  The front door chimed, and Rhys started as if waking from a dream. He blinked rapidly. “You should get that.”

  “Oh, uh, of course.” She slid past him and hurried to the front desk, where she was surprised to find a man in a royal tunic. It was not unheard of for Darnuith’s soldiers to seek treatment there, but this man did not appear ill.

  “Circe Tanglewood?” he asked her.

  “Yes?”

  He held out an ornate purple envelope with a red wax seal pressed with an insignia in the shape of the Tanglewood tree—her sister’s seal. She accepted the envelope from the soldier.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “An invitation to a royal banquet. The queen sends her love.” He bowed and headed for the door.

  “Wait!” Circe raised a hand and smiled when the soldier looked her way. “Please tell Medea I love her too, and I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Chapter

  Two

  He’d almost kissed her. Rhys tipped his head back and groaned toward the ceiling of his laboratory. Of all the stupid things he could have done! Thank the Fates the door had chimed when it had, or he might be in a terrible mess. A kiss would have been a disaster.

  He swept the narwit off the table and returned it to its cage, where it squeaked and ran in circles. Circe was the queen’s sister and a gifted employee. So talented that one day he might even make her his apprentice. He’d be a fool to enter into a romantic relationship with her. One false move and he could lose the best thing to happen to his apothecary in years, or worse, should his actions displease the queen, he could lose his head. And that didn’t even begin to encompass the blowback he’d get from the residents of Mistcraven for dating one of the three sisters. He’d already been pulled aside by more than one well-meaning friend to warn him about hiring her. Anything more and he’d never hear the end of it.

  No, the last thing he should be doing was kissing Circe.

  He straightened his lab coat and composed himself before striding to the front of his apothecary to see who’d come in. A man in a royal uniform was halfway out the door. “What was that all about?”

  Circe stood at the counter holding a purple envelope with the royal seal. She frowned at the card within. “An invitation from my sister,” she said absently. “She’s throwing a royal dinner party.”

  “A royal banquet?” He raised an eyebrow. “Seems like a joyous occasion. Why are you looking at it like you want to set it on fire?”

  She smiled at him. That smile held the sun. For a moment, his brain blanked trying to process the beauty of it. Then he swallowed hard and busied himself straightening a box of healing crystals.

  “It requires that I bring a guest.” A gusty sigh left her lungs. “I don’t want to turn Medea down. She’s been so lonely since she became queen. But I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “Are you suggesting that the queen will not allow her own sister to attend her dinner party without a date?” Rhys tried to make light of the situation. Surely it wasn’t as dire as Circe made it sound.

  Circe chewed her lip before speaking. “Medea spends too much time locked up in that palace. To elevate her boredom, she’s become enchanted with party games, especially Royal Cross. She thinks it’s delightful to play teams, which requires an even number of guests. She’s gone so far as to mention it in the invitation. If I don’t bring a guest, it will throw off the players. Even if I sat the game out, it would leave a spot open on the board.”

  As much as he’d love to tell her she was wrong and her participation didn’t matter, Rhys was familiar with Royal Cross; he used to excel at the game as a child. It was played on a field divided into four quadrants by crossed lines of stones. Each quadrant was divided into six sectors. Each sector contained an object that could only be manipulated by magic. The object of the game was to move all the objects out of your quadrant into your opponent’s quadrant. Each team got one turn to analyze and move their object while also spelling it to make it harder for the opposing team to move back. Each item had its own hidden properties at the start of the game which made it more challenging to manipulate. It took logic, strategy, and power to win. Circe hadn’t misinterpreted the invitation.

  “Why does this upset you? For a woman like you, I’m sure finding a guest shouldn’t be too difficult.” Rhys couldn’t help but scowl as he said it. Circe was a beautiful woman. He’d noticed many men watching her with hungry eyes when they’d journeyed into town for healing visits. Not only was she beautiful enough to put the grandest mountain views of Darnuith to shame, the power to be gained by a relationship with the queen’s sister would appeal to many of his sex.

  Many of the wrong type of men, he supposed. Fates’ fury. He made an effort to keep his expression impassive. As much as it would be mischief to pursue Circe, he did not like to think about her attending a banquet with another man, especially with one who entertained dark motives.

  “You’re wrong about it not being difficult,” she said sadly. “You saw what happened this morning. Half of Darnuith hates us. They’ve never accepted my sister as the true queen. I can’t even invite a girlfriend because I have none other than Isis, and she’s invited as well. No one speaks to me except for a curt hello or goodbye. The few men I’ve met who initially seem interested are often intimidated by me.”

  He hated how dejected she looked. Were those tears in her eyes? He didn’t think he could stand to see her cry. The thought awakened a deep protective instinct in him he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “That can’t be true,” he assured her, although the thought of her wanting for male attention made him oddly joyful inside. “There must be someone you could ask.”

  “Rhys?”

  “Yes?” His brows climbed. Was she thinking about asking him? Folly.

  She sighed and spread her arms wide. “In your professional opinion, is there something wrong with me? Something offensive that causes the people here to push me away?”

  “No!” he said a little too forcefully, but he just couldn’t leave her believing that. “If people here seem reluctant to trust you, it’s only because outsiders are rare in Darnuith and it is unheard of f
or a witch from another land to become queen. It’s unsettling to the older families who came to expect the Fates to do the same thing they’d always done. Give it time. People will open their hearts and minds.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d heard scattered whisperings of how pleased people were with Medea’s rule. The hatred Circe had witnessed wasn’t universal, as much as it’d seemed so.

  She took a step toward him. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched of its own accord despite his brain screaming that he should under no circumstances be wooing Circe with kind words. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. I hate liars.”

  Her hand came to rest on top of his, and she squeezed his fingers. The tension he’d felt during the almost kiss in the laboratory seized him again, and his brain flashed a delicious vision of lifting her onto the counter, shoving up her dress, and spreading her thighs. He turned away from her to hide the lust that must be evident in his eyes.

  “If you’ll excuse me…” He moved for the storage room, putting precious space between them. A woman had no business being so enchanting. Every time he looked at her, he lost his damned mind.

  “Rhys?”

  He ignored her and started moving jars around like he was truly busy, when the apothecary was as tidy as it had ever been.

  She came up behind him, her presence like a live flame in the small room. Her spirit could not be ignored. He cleared his throat and met her gaze.

  “Would you go with me?”

  He stopped. He could feel a scowl pass through his expression, and a sharp pain flared across Circe’s features in response. She looked as if he’d struck her, and he hadn’t said a word.

  “Forget I asked,” she added quickly, her voice soft and thready. “I… I don’t know what I was thinking—”

  “I’ll go with you,” he blurted. The words were out of his mouth before he could think it through. Anything to make her smile again.

  Her face brightened, sending warmth through him. “Thank you. Oh, Rhys, thank you.” She backed toward the front of the store again, and he took a deep breath of fresh air.

  “As your friend, of course,” he added toward her back. “Anything else would be inappropriate, considering we work together.”

  At first, she looked shocked. Then her eyes narrowed and her smile faded. She nodded in agreement. “O-of course,” she sputtered. “As a favor to me. I’ll owe you one.”

  Rhys grabbed a few empty jars and shoved them into the bag he used to collect specimens. With a few terse words that served as a goodbye, he escaped out the door. He’d made a date with Circe. As friends. He rolled his eyes toward the heavens as he mounted his broom. An evening with her would either be a whiff of heaven or a stroll through hell. He wasn’t sure he was ready for either.

  Chapter

  Three

  Circe fastened the waist of her gown and wondered if it was too much. Rhys had made it clear that tonight they were attending her sister’s banquet as friends, a confusing notion considering she was sure he’d been close to kissing her. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d been drawn to him from the first time she’d walked into Bloodgood’s Apothecary.

  The dress she was wearing could never be described as friendly. If the energy of a deep kiss was turned into fabric and wrapped around her, it would look like this dress. She’d found it in the window of a clothier in Mistcraven. The witch who ran the shop made alterations to accommodate Circe’s above-average height and willowy stature. The deep rose-colored fabric skimmed her torso before flaring out in featherlight layers from her hips. For some reason, the color made her eyes turn a deeper blue. Not as dark as Isis’s, whose irises could appear black under certain light, but a richer shade like the inside of a sapphire.

  What would Rhys say? Would he take one look at her and know she’d lied about only wanting his friendship? Would he be reluctant to go with her once he saw her?

  She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. The gown was perfectly appropriate for a royal banquet, and despite what she might think when she looked at him, he couldn’t see inside her soul or read her mind, not even with his enchanted glasses.

  A knock came on her bedroom door, and she opened it to find her sister Isis, resplendent in a royal-blue sheath dress. “The carriage is here. The driver picked up the men first. How much do you want to bet that Brody has blood somewhere on his person?”

  Circe smiled. Isis had fallen in with a group of hunters early on and, despite being the only female among their ranks, was the most prolific with a bow and arrow. Her date for this event was a wizard and fellow hunter named Brody who’d been trying to woo her for months.

  “I thought you mentioned you weren’t interested in Brody?”

  “I’m not. He was the only one I could find on short notice. And what about Rhys? Does he know you want to wed him and have his babies?” Isis’s eyes twinkled with laughter.

  “Bite your tongue. He made it clear today he only cares to be friends.”

  Isis pressed a finger into the crook of her chin. “Has he seen you in that dress?”

  Circe shook her head.

  Isis’s eyes darkened to midnight blue. “I predict he might change his mind by the end of the night. You’ll gorgonize him with a single wink.”

  Cheeks hot, Circe grabbed her bag and pushed through the door. “Don’t be obtuse. I’m perfectly common.”

  “If you say so.”

  She and Isis made their way out to the carriage, where a royal escort waited to help them inside. Unlike the carriages she’d read about in books that were built atop wheels, this one, like all carriages in Darnuith, was built atop sled skis. Most of Darnuith’s roads were permanently frozen, and the skis were enchanted to slide over all manner of ground, even rough or rocky terrain. Pulled by a team of tall, shaggy dogs with red eyes called vultar hounds, the carriage was a more comfortable way to travel than by broom when an event required formal dress.

  As she stepped up into the carriage, the hounds panted at her from their harnesses, buzzing with an overflowing energy and the inborn desire to pull. She slid into the seat next to Isis with her back facing the driver and greeted Rhys and Brody.

  “Fates alive, you two are stunning,” Brody said, his eyes darting between them. “Are you sure it’s safe to outshine the queen?”

  Circe laughed. “If you think anything about us outshines our sister, you haven’t met Medea.”

  Rhys’s eyes flicked over her. He frowned as if her appearance displeased him. Grumpily, he turned his face toward the window. Circe’s heart crushed itself into a tight little ball at the snub.

  “You have blood on your sock,” Isis said, pointing to the edge of Brody’s shoe, which did indeed sport a dark splotch.

  He shrugged. “Elderbeast.” Unceremoniously, he blotted it with his handkerchief, then returned the bloody square of fabric to his pocket. Isis glanced at Circe and chuckled.

  The rest of the ride was ominously quiet. Tension bled off Rhys and seemed to put all four of them in a foul mood. It was hard to be jovial with a dark cloud looming nearby. Whatever offense she’d committed, no matter how unintentional, must have been heinous in his eyes.

  She decided to confront him about it once they were alone.

  The carriage came to a stop before the golden doors of Maelhaven Palace. The driver opened the carriage and escorted them inside.

  “Finally!” Medea rushed Circe in a way that was all about familial bonds and probably completely inappropriate for a royal. She embraced her and then Isis. Behind her, Tavyss, Medea’s husband and mate, smiled. The dragon’s gold eyes shone bright as he watched her sister. Tavyss was happy when Medea was happy, and the three sisters were happiest with their arms wrapped around one another.

  “My queen, the Royal Cross board is ready for you in the ballroom,” Zelaria announced. The adviser to the queen wore a roomy deep-purple dress with a feathery shawl that was as wispy as her wild gray hair. When the Fates had chosen Medea, Cir
ce feared Zelaria would be bitter or would abscond herself of her role. But Medea claimed she’d been a remarkable help in establishing her rule.

  “Don’t you mean ready for us?” Medea asked. “You and Tamsin still plan to play the fourth quadrant, I hope.”

  Zelaria leaned on her staff. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good,” Tavyss said. “Because Medea requires Cook to wait until the game is played before serving the food, and I’m hungry. At least I know with this talented lot, it will be a short game.”

  Circe fell behind and sidled up to Rhys as the others filtered into the ballroom. “Is it just me, or do you have the feeling we’re going to lose this game abysmally? I’ve never even played.”

  He lowered his voice. “We won’t lose. I’ll show you what to do.” His eyes darted over her again, and the scowl from the carriage snapped back into place.

  “Have I done something wrong? Is my dress offensive to you? I’ve only lived in Darnuith a year. I’m not familiar with all of your customs, but the woman in the shop said this would be appropriate.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you or your dress, Circe,” he said through a grimace.

  “Then why are you scowling at me?”

  “Come on, you two!” Medea called. “The game awaits.”

  Rhys avoided her question and gestured toward the ballroom. He did not escort her as they made their way inside, even though it was customary for partners to enter arm in arm. Based on the gruff energy coming off the man, she’d definitely read him wrong days ago when she’d thought he might kiss her. Clearly, he was not interested. He looked as if he didn’t even want to be there.

  She followed him to the third quadrant and stood inside her ring. In front of her, there was a feather, a stone, a large crystal, a potted sapling, a silver chalice filled with water, and a red wax candle that flickered at her from its sector. She studied the objects, trying to come up with a strategy. As painful as it was, she had no choice but to engage with Rhys again. He was the one who understood how to play.