Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) by Nicolette Jinks Page B
Authors: Nicolette Jinks
companion.”
“Does he have a name?”
“In all likelihood, but I don't care to know what it is.”
The woman grunted.
I raised a brow at Mordon, who said, “It's for the best.”
“Since no one else seems to mind being rude, I'll just say this: what are we doing here?”
“It is another test, I'm sure,” Mordon said.
I crossed my arms. “What makes you say that?”
“Because the boats have sunk, and we're stranded.” Mordon tipped his head to where the boats had indeed disappeared, a faint shadow suggesting they were at a considerable depth.
I shivered despite the warm sun. This time, the test wasn't just if I would wake up. An image of Mordon and me drowning in the cold water intruded into my mind. Without letting myself think on it longer, I set foot on the ladder and climbed.
“Call me Daae,” the woman said as she helped me up the last rung.
Daae stood taller than Mordon and much taller than me, and she was far from frail. Matronly and capable described her well, but on a better day I would also have hazarded to add cheerful to that list. Today she looked disciplinarian as she gazed down at Mordon. “Hustle along. The weather's changing and it will do no good to be caught out in it.”
In this no-fuss way we were led to a floating pavilion with a central fire and an invisible warding shield which kept wind and rain out of the otherwise open sides. Soup of some sort simmered in a big cauldron and a stack of wooden bowls waited next to a checker-patterned covered basket which smelled of buttery bread. Various people milled around on small chairs or on blankets on the floor, talking quietly. An ancient man sat beneath layers of thick blankets, his eyes keen and studying as we entered the pavilion. I stopped, arrested by that stare.
“Grand Master.” Lyall greeted the man with a sweeping bow. “We are pleased to meet with you and your family.”
“Lyall Limber-Clan, it has been some time. Behind you, is that not Enaid's son?”
Lyall flinched as though he'd been burned and stepped to the side to give the Grand Master a clear view of Mordon. Mordon's expression piqued with interest and he said, “I am.”
The Grand Master smiled wistfully. “Time has passed us by. When I last saw your mother, she was soaring the skies and running her suitors ragged with pursuit. It was a glorious sight to behold. Who won, and what did they name you?”
“Aeron of Kragdomen, and they called me Mordon.”
“You are firstborn?”
“I am.”
“And now you pursue your own mate, though not on the wing. It is a different sort of courtship, yes, but it brings its rewards in ways that others of your kind cannot envision until the time comes. Who is it you have followed here? Step nearer, young lady, so I may better see your features.”
I did as he asked, studying him as he studied me. His eyelids were hooded, his face a map of wrinkles and loose skin. There was no sense of malice from him, but there was something off, something wrong…I'd sensed it before, and it was stronger now, but I had no better of an idea what it was than earlier.
“You bear a striking resemblance to the Swift Clan, one of Jerold and Linley's ilk…they would be your grandparents. They had girls, I believe; their boys are bachelors. Ferris, Maggie, and Linnia. Yes, that's right. You take after Linnia the most, blonde hair, the shape of your eyes, the height, but there's Maggie's influence, too, in the jawline. Both sisters looked similar. Your bone structure is heavy for a Swift, though, too heavy for pure fey blood. You strike me as Magnus' child which would make your mother Maggie. You have a brother, do you not?”
“Leazar.”
“Named after your father's brother. They named you after your mother's sisters, then. Is it Ferislynn, Ferinia, or Feraline?”
My jaw dropped in surprise.
“Feraline then, and they gave you your
“Does he have a name?”
“In all likelihood, but I don't care to know what it is.”
The woman grunted.
I raised a brow at Mordon, who said, “It's for the best.”
“Since no one else seems to mind being rude, I'll just say this: what are we doing here?”
“It is another test, I'm sure,” Mordon said.
I crossed my arms. “What makes you say that?”
“Because the boats have sunk, and we're stranded.” Mordon tipped his head to where the boats had indeed disappeared, a faint shadow suggesting they were at a considerable depth.
I shivered despite the warm sun. This time, the test wasn't just if I would wake up. An image of Mordon and me drowning in the cold water intruded into my mind. Without letting myself think on it longer, I set foot on the ladder and climbed.
“Call me Daae,” the woman said as she helped me up the last rung.
Daae stood taller than Mordon and much taller than me, and she was far from frail. Matronly and capable described her well, but on a better day I would also have hazarded to add cheerful to that list. Today she looked disciplinarian as she gazed down at Mordon. “Hustle along. The weather's changing and it will do no good to be caught out in it.”
In this no-fuss way we were led to a floating pavilion with a central fire and an invisible warding shield which kept wind and rain out of the otherwise open sides. Soup of some sort simmered in a big cauldron and a stack of wooden bowls waited next to a checker-patterned covered basket which smelled of buttery bread. Various people milled around on small chairs or on blankets on the floor, talking quietly. An ancient man sat beneath layers of thick blankets, his eyes keen and studying as we entered the pavilion. I stopped, arrested by that stare.
“Grand Master.” Lyall greeted the man with a sweeping bow. “We are pleased to meet with you and your family.”
“Lyall Limber-Clan, it has been some time. Behind you, is that not Enaid's son?”
Lyall flinched as though he'd been burned and stepped to the side to give the Grand Master a clear view of Mordon. Mordon's expression piqued with interest and he said, “I am.”
The Grand Master smiled wistfully. “Time has passed us by. When I last saw your mother, she was soaring the skies and running her suitors ragged with pursuit. It was a glorious sight to behold. Who won, and what did they name you?”
“Aeron of Kragdomen, and they called me Mordon.”
“You are firstborn?”
“I am.”
“And now you pursue your own mate, though not on the wing. It is a different sort of courtship, yes, but it brings its rewards in ways that others of your kind cannot envision until the time comes. Who is it you have followed here? Step nearer, young lady, so I may better see your features.”
I did as he asked, studying him as he studied me. His eyelids were hooded, his face a map of wrinkles and loose skin. There was no sense of malice from him, but there was something off, something wrong…I'd sensed it before, and it was stronger now, but I had no better of an idea what it was than earlier.
“You bear a striking resemblance to the Swift Clan, one of Jerold and Linley's ilk…they would be your grandparents. They had girls, I believe; their boys are bachelors. Ferris, Maggie, and Linnia. Yes, that's right. You take after Linnia the most, blonde hair, the shape of your eyes, the height, but there's Maggie's influence, too, in the jawline. Both sisters looked similar. Your bone structure is heavy for a Swift, though, too heavy for pure fey blood. You strike me as Magnus' child which would make your mother Maggie. You have a brother, do you not?”
“Leazar.”
“Named after your father's brother. They named you after your mother's sisters, then. Is it Ferislynn, Ferinia, or Feraline?”
My jaw dropped in surprise.
“Feraline then, and they gave you your
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