CHAPTER 12
Your Magic is The Wrong Color
After breakfast and the successful completion of Operation Oblivious: Phase One, I hoped to find a way to talk with Rory alone. I needed to speak with him about his magic. According to everything Hugo had told me about the color spectrum of magic, Rory probably wasn’t human and I had a sneaking suspicion that his mother wasn’t the norm housekeeper, Mrs. Devlin. How in the world was I supposed to talk to him about that? Most importantly, I needed to make sure he wasn’t on his way to becoming a sorcerer.
As luck would have it, Lady Acacia showed up accompanied by Rory for an early Saturday meeting with my father.
Lady Acacia met with my father in his library and I walked toward Rory across the stretch of marble floor in the grand entryway.
“Lady Adriana,” Rory said with a formal bow, “greetings to you.” As today was Saturday, Rory wore dark jeans, his black Nikes, and a purple polo shirt that matched his eyes.
“And to you, Mr. Devlin, as well,” I said with a nod, as I put on my cloak. “Can you go to the apple orchard with me?” I whispered. A thrill zinged through me at the thought of spending time with Rory, today.
“Yes,” he whispered back, flashing me a smile.
We slipped out the front entrance. Fortunately, after breakfast Zarius was laying low, so I didn’t think we would run into him, but I momentarily crossed my fingers just in case.
Cheeva ran ahead of us. At one moment he loped, and in the next he leapt and ran, like a puppy frolicking in the sun.
I laughed out loud and smiled at Rory. Amused as well, he returned my smile, but as our eyes locked, his smile faded into an intent look, making me think of being in his arms last night when we’d danced together.
My steps faltered, but I caught myself and jogged after Cheeva. Rory followed us.
Together we snuck back out to my bower in the apple orchard. I sat down on the stone bench and Cheeva parked himself by my side. Rory leaned back, propping his elbows on the back of the bench, and taking in the view.
In the light of the sun, the colors were alive with vibrancy. The crisp coolness of the morning air pricked my skin with a refreshing chill, pleasantly offset by the mild warmth of the dappled sunshine peeking through the trees. My cloak regulated my temperature, be it hot or cold, but allowed me to feel the enjoyable aspects of the weather. Sometimes I wondered what other magical attributes my cloak possessed, and whether or not all women’s cloaks had locator enchantments. I suspected they did.
A short gust of wind sent dogwood blossoms floating around us, gently swirling down, shifting my thoughts back to the beauty of the morning and the happy contentment in sharing it with Rory.
Where the golden rays of the midmorning sun hit the flowers, the petals sparkled as though coated in millions of tiny, dazzling crystals.
With a small wave of Rory’s hand, a shimmering globe of magic surrounded us. I contemplated the purple of his magic. Instead of the muddy maroon streaks Hugo had described, it surrounded us in translucent shimmers of lavender-purple, reminding me of Rory’s eyes. For a moment, I stared at his glittering ward, believing it couldn’t contain any evil. It was an extension of Rory and it protected us and gave us privacy.
Rory sat down next to me on the stone bench.
Feeling unusually daring, I pulled the hood of my cloak off my head. The breeze picked up strands of my hair, making me feel carefree, which was only an illusion.
Turning to face Rory, I gazed up into the eyes of the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. And he was sitting here, in this place, at this time, with me.
It’s not that Rory looked “model” perfect. I wouldn’t want him to. He had a strong jaw, and a chin with a deep cleft worthy of any superhero. His cheekbones were high and masculine and he had a guy’s nose, a little prominent and proud, and not perfectly straight, but it fit just right on his face. And when he smiled, it wasn’t small either. It spread wide and broad across his face, showing his white teeth. His smile lit up his whole face, and his eyes sparkled in the sun.
He was smiling at me like that right now and it took my breath away.
A big, dumb answering smile stretched across my face. I couldn’t seem to stop smiling as long as he was smiling at me. However, I did remember to start breathing again.
Everything else melted away at that moment; nothing but Rory seemed to matter.
He reached over my lap, his arm brushing my thigh as he held his hand out toward Cheeva, allowing the large white wolf to sniff it.
Rory looked at me expectantly and I realized he’d asked me a question. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He smiled indulgently at me and I felt my cheeks heat up. “I asked if you thought Cheeva would mind if I petted him.”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath. “I honestly don’t know. Familiars aren’t tame and they’re not pets.” I quoted what I’d heard so many times at school.
“Cheeva,” Rory met the white wolf’s glacial blue eyes. “Can I scratch behind your ear?”
Cheeva didn’t show his teeth or growl, so Rory gave him a good scratch behind his ear. Cheeva pushed his head against Rory’s hand with a low groan of contentment.
“Well, I guess you have your answer. He seems to really like it. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Oh crap! Had I really just said that out loud? Shih-Tzu!
One side of Rory’s mouth slowly tilted up into a half-grin. “I don’t know. Do you want me to scratch behind your ear, Addie?”
“Oh stop!” I made myself sound teasing as I batted a hand at him. In actuality, I was equal parts mortified and obsessed with visions of our stolen dance on the balcony last night.
Cheeva set his head on my lap, closing his eyes as Rory scratched the back of his neck.
For a little while, we both enjoyed just sitting there together under the golden morning sun, as the crisp morning breeze lazily danced around us.
Cheeva fell asleep.
“Well, here we are, again,” I finally said, breaking the silence, knowing I needed to talk to Rory about his magic, but desperately wanting to hold onto the contentment I was feeling.
Rory’s smile transformed to a thoughtful expression. “Just yesterday, I was determined to avoid you,” Rory said, his eyes going darker as his gaze met mine. “And then last night, all I wanted to do was kiss you.”
I convulsively swallowed. I felt myself lean closer, as if I’d ventured into Rory’s gravitational pull. But then Lucia Amador’s blank eyes flashed in my head and I pulled back a little. “Things are complicated right now.” I stared down at my hands before meeting his eyes once more. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
He shot me another one of his killer grins. “Yep, here we are. I’m in the middle of whatever this craziness is, and it’s where I want to be…here with you, Addie.”
I glanced away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “And it’s where I want you to be, too.” I swallowed hard. Even if there was never any hope for Rory and me, even if we could never be together, I wanted to be with him, now. My life had just fallen into a thrashing sea of pandemonium, and I wanted him to help me navigate through the stormy swells. It felt somehow right.
I looked up into his eyes, giving him my best carefree grin. “Hey, phase one of Operation Oblivious went well.” I felt the need to lighten the mood. “Breakfast was a success. I think I just might be back in my father’s good graces. And there’s a bonus prize! I get to remodel my room.”
“Score.”
“Hey, that’s what I said to myself, too! Great minds and all.”
“Well, I kept my fingers crossed.” Rory held up his hands, showing me his crossed fingers. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to eat breakfast and get dressed with your fingers crossed?”
He said it with such a poker face that I nudged my shoulder against his. I was having fun just goofing around with him.
But then, his eyes met mine, turning solemn. “The more time I spend with you, Addie, the more I want. And I know it’s wrong.”
r /> “Not to me,” I said, swallowing back emotion again. But it was a big fat lie I was telling him—and myself, for that matter—and we both knew it. Eventually, this would be a colossal, even gargantuan problem.
Rory moved to the other side of the bench so he could face me across the semicircle of stone. It felt suddenly cold without him next to me.
“So you could see my magic, huh?” he asked.
Okay, this was supposed to be what I’d wanted to talk to Rory about, but he’d been the one to bring it up. Maybe part of me wanted to stay truly oblivious, not just faking it. But since he’d started it, I plunged in. “Before I tell you about what I saw in your magic, why don’t you tell me how it is that you have magic when you’re a norm?” Supposedly.
“Lady Acacia says I’m a human mage.”
“Well, you’re not,” I said dismissively, and I realized I’d completely botched the conversation before it had really started.
“What do you mean?” His frown and voice betrayed anger and maybe even hurt feelings.
I sighed. I wasn’t any good at this. “Your magic is the wrong color for a human mage. Look, I’m sorry about the flippant way I said that. Why don’t you tell me about when you first realized you had magic?” I wasn’t above pleading, and I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. “Please, Rory.”
Rory tilted his head; a skeptical expression furrowed his brow before he exhaled hard. “We’re definitely coming back to that, Addie. But okay, I’ll give.” Rory ran a hand through his hair. “I was maybe seven or eight years old when I first stumbled upon my magic.” He sat back, resting his elbows on the top of the bench. “As you’ve heard, my mother started working for Lady Acacia when I was a baby. I never knew my dad.” He paused to stare off into the distance for a moment. “He abandoned us, before I was born.” His eyes met mine and I could see how his father’s actions still hurt him. “Lady Acacia took us in. Both my mom and Lady Acacia have homeschooled me. The Lady noticed my magic almost as soon as it started to surface. I’m pretty sure my first magic was what wizards call ‘wish magic.’ If I wanted a toy or food, it started levitating over to me.”
Yep, I could relate, I thought, but I wondered if human magic started the same way. Somehow, I doubted it.
“Because I didn’t hang out with other kids, I thought it was all just normal stuff.”
“That’s a lot of power at a really young age,” I said quietly. “Hugo says there’s big physics behind that kind of magic-telekinesis. Even Hugo hasn’t worked his way up to moving anything big.” What did it mean that Rory’s magic was that strong at such a young age? I had no idea. “So yesterday I saw you shield from my brother, and I’ve seen you ward twice. And it was always pretty instantaneous. Did you even chant?”
“I’ve been doing spells like that for years now. It works even if I chant in my head.”
I happened to know that only really powerful wizards could pull that off.
“Even though Lady Acacia doesn’t wield magic,” Rory continued, “she has access to her father’s library and a translation amulet, so she’s taught me a lot.”
“Translation amulet? I want to get back to that, but, Rory, if your magic is human, like a shaman or a mage, why do wizard spells work for you?”
Rory scratched his head as he considered my question. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he said. His frown deepened.
All my life I’d heard that each kind of magic worked differently, from a mage, to a shaman, to a wizard, to a witch.
I stared at Rory for a second. I knew this topic was bothering him. Maybe if I got less personal for a minute. “And that translation amulet you mentioned, I think that definitely sounds like something I need to get my hands on.” And I meant it. Between my situation and Rory’s, I had a lot of vital research to do and I couldn’t wait on Hugo to do all the work. He had his own life to live and his own problems to deal with.
“Maybe Hugo can get you one. With the amulet, Lady Acacia has helped me figure out a lot of spells. But I can only learn with her help. I can’t exactly talk to anyone else around here. Lady Acacia said wizards wouldn’t tolerate a mage in the midst of their stronghold. I can’t exactly hide it from you anymore, but, Addie, it needs to stay between us.”
I agreed, nodding my head. “I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t. I promise, Rory. And you know I need you to keep my secret, too.”
“I will. I promise.” Rory smiled that big smile of his. “I almost didn’t say anything to you about it, because I knew you would keep my secret.”
“You, too,” I said, wrapped up in the dazzling power of his smile.
He tilted his head quizzically and I realized I hadn’t made any sense.
I blushed because Rory made me ditsy beyond belief. “I meant that I knew you’d keep my secret, too.” I huffed, frustrated with myself.
Rory winked at me and my mouth curved in what felt like a goofy grin.
Rory looked off in the distance and then met my eyes again. “While we’re talking about this, it’s strange,” Rory mused. “But Lady Acacia is unbelievably anal about me avoiding any magic that could even remotely result in harm—not that I would do anything like that. But she constantly reminds me. It gets kind of old.”
“I bet,” I said nonchalantly, but my stomach lurched. Did Lady Acacia know something? Was she afraid that Rory could become a sorcerer? Was she trying to prevent it from happening by steering him clear of any kind of magic that would tempt him to go dark? No way! There had to be another explanation for the purple magic, and besides, it wasn’t muddy with red or black streaks. It was a translucent lavender-purple. Was it possible that Rory was the one referenced in the prophecy whose blood ran with both sorcery and wizardry? But I couldn’t ask anyone about this. I’d officially promised Rory I wouldn’t tell anyone, which included Hugo or Izzy. I had to get my own translation amulet.
“Sometimes, with your brother,” Rory broke into my thoughts, “I’m really tempted to do something to him with my magic—not just a ward.”
I felt my eyes widen.
Rory laughed. “Don’t worry, Addie. I don’t mean I’d hurt him with my magic, but I’d like to bind him from hurting others. Yesterday, when he hurled magic at me, I don’t know what he meant to do to me, but it wasn’t anything good.”
“I don’t know why he’s like this.” I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip in frustration. Sometimes I, too, wanted my brother to feel a little payback for the cruelty he’d heaped onto others, to learn a lesson if nothing else.
“But my point is that according to Lady Acacia, even messing with someone’s free will, like in a binding, is something I have to steer clear of.”
“Maybe I can lock him in his room. I wouldn’t be using magic, then.”
“Well,” Rory said, mischief twinkling in his eyes, “since that doesn’t involve using my magic, I could probably help you lock him up.”
I giggled with a snort that had us both breaking into a fit of hilarity. Cheeva lifted his head, roused from sleep by our loud laughter. He tilted his head to one side and then the other, which made us laugh all the more.
Then I thought about how even Rory, who was supposedly human, had a huge head start over me. “You know a lot more about all of this than I do.”
“You’ll learn. I’ll teach you what I know. I’m sure Hugo will, too,” Rory said. He raised his eyebrows. “So now that I’ve pretty much spilled my guts to you, it’s your turn to bring me up to speed. Make sure you include the explanation of why you think my magic isn’t the right color to be human magic?”
Uh-oh. I forgot we’d have to circle back around to this topic. For a second, I thought about how to respond. I stood up to start pacing, but then sat right back down on the bench.
“I know you came into yesterday’s events kind of late in the day. I think you picked up on the fact that even though I’m a wizard girl, I have magic. And I didn’t have magic until yesterday on my sixteenth birthday, so all of this is completely new to me. It began
yesterday with wish magic for me, too. And then I realized I could actually see magic—its different colors. Apparently that’s an extremely rare and dangerous ability…”
“Dangerous?” Rory stared at me intently, or perhaps protectively.
“Yes. Hugo explained it. Because I can see the color of magic, I can tell if someone is a sorcerer or if someone is turning into a sorcerer.”
Rory nodded as understanding dawned. “And that’s the last thing a sorcerer would want.”
“Exactly. That’s also why it’s a rare talent. It tends to get people killed.”
“Okay, so we can’t let that happen. But how did Hugo know what colors correspond to different types of magic?”
“It was documented in ancient wizard texts by Leonardo Da Vinci.”
“I bet Izzy loved that,” he said with a chuckle.
“She sure did.” I laughed, too.
“So, what color is a sorcerer’s magic?” Rory asked.
“Deep red, maroon, or a combination of red and black.”
“And a human mage?”
“Well, it’s supposed to be some shade of gold or amber,” I replied.
“And what color is my magic?”
That was the crux of things, although he hadn’t asked about the color of wizard magic, and I wasn’t volunteering it. I didn’t want him putting that particular two and two together. I was pretty sure he’d understand that red and blue make purple. “Your magic is a beautiful lavender-purple.” It didn’t have dark red and there wasn’t a hint of black. He wasn’t a human mage, but maybe he was something else.
I looked up at Rory. A slight smile curved his mouth at what I’d said, but then he grew serious again.
“So I guess purple isn’t the right color for a human mage.”
“Hugo may not remember everything perfectly,” I said hastily. “And the information is pretty old. It could be wrong. It could be Da Vinci didn’t know there were different flavors of mages. Or maybe you’re something different or new?”
He squinted at me, tilting his head. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
I sighed. What was I going to say? “Like I said, this whole magic thing is new to me. Wizard boys are prepared their whole lives for this, but not wizard girls. We’re pretty much kept in the dark. But yes, there’s something Hugo said about the colors that I need to research before I tell you something that could be wrong. I’m probably totally off base. So please, no worries for now.”
He stared at me through narrowed eyes for the span of a few heartbeats, but then reluctantly nodded.
I knew I’d do anything to make sure I didn’t let him down. In my heart, I knew Rory wasn’t evil and he wasn’t turning evil, either. He couldn’t be. I’d bet my life on it and, maybe, that’s exactly what I was doing.
Cheeva’s ears perked up. He stared intently at the wall of branches and leaves. He’d heard something, or someone.