A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,100

forever, side by side

We’ll stay together, ’neath starry skies

Tonight and always, destiny guides us

Tonight and always, magic binds us

Maddox took a sip of ale—his first. Livius had rarely ever drunk anything stronger than cider, and he’d never allowed Maddox to touch a drop.

“You like?” Camilla asked, grinning lasciviously, showing off her broken teeth.

“It’s good,” he had to admit.

“Drink up, sweetie,” she said as she tipped back her own mug of frothy ale, finishing it in one go. Then she let out a giant and rather impressive belch.

A cry came from across the room. “I recognize that sound!” called out a woman who swiftly approached their group, golden-haired and lovely from head to toe.

“My darling sister!” Camilla rose to her feet and held out her arms. “You’ve returned to me at long last!”

Sister? Maddox exchanged a surprised glance with Becca.

“You are a sight for sore eyes!” the beautiful woman exclaimed as the two embraced.

Barnabas’s posture had improved from his relaxed slouch to a more dignified and formal display. “Sienna, what an absolute pleasure to see you again.”

Becca leaned toward Maddox. “Is it just me, or is he practically drooling over her?”

“Can you blame him?” Maddox said under his breath as he drank more of his ale. “She’s absolutely stunning.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I guess. If you like that type. But she’s kind of old. She’s got to be at least thirty, right?”

He frowned. He’d never heard any hint of such poison in Becca’s tone before now.

“Maddox, this is my younger sister, Sienna,” Camilla said. “A sister who has neglected to write to me for far too long as she’s traveled to lands far across the sea. I have missed you so much!”

Sienna put her arm around Camilla’s shoulders. “I’m back now and plan to stay indefinitely.”

“More reason for us to celebrate.” Camilla signaled to the barkeep to bring another round.

By his third tankard, Maddox had changed his mind about not wanting to join in on impromptu celebrations in taverns. He now found himself up on the table, dancing with the beautiful Sienna, who clasped his hands and spun him around in circles until he became dizzy. Life was marvelous. And wondrous. And all kinds of sparkly.

“Is this your first time drinking ale?” Sienna asked.

“Oh no. I’ve had it many, many, many times. This is nothing,” he slurred. “It’s simply wonderful that you’ve come back to be with your sister. Are you a witch, too?”

Sienna laughed as she covered his mouth with her hand to keep him from saying anything else. “Not so loud, all right? This place is full of joy tonight, but we never know where Valoria’s guards might be lurking. They don’t react well to those of us who may be touched with magic.”

“I’m touched with magic.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “Very touched.”

“Are you, now?”

“They call me the witch boy.” As he repeated it, the nickname sounded far more impressive than usual.

She pulled back a little to look at him more closely. “So you’re the one I’ve been hearing about, are you? The boy who can summon spirits.”

“I brought one here with me tonight,” he said, gesturing toward Becca with his mug. Ale splashed over the side of it and hit Barnabas in the face.

“Hey!” Barnabas sputtered, wiping his eye.

Maddox laughed. “Apologies!” Then he shifted his gaze to Becca, who sat on a wooden bench across the tavern, glaring up at him. Her arms were crossed and her expression . . .

Oh dear.

He jumped down from the table. “I’ll be back soon, Sienna.”

“Take your time, sweetling,” she replied with a grin.

She called him sweetling!

He made his way through the crowd toward Becca. “You look deeply unhappy,” he told her when he reached her side.

“Do I?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just sitting here, invisible and incorporeal. Waiting. My sister and mother are probably only desperately worried about me, while you’re all here celebrating the fact that you managed to open a locked box. So, no. Not unhappy. Just impatient. With you.”

She said you so sharply it was as if it were a dagger she’d decided to poke him with.

But instead of making him feel bad, it raised his ire. “I know you’re in a gigantic rush to leave this kingdom you despise so much, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes . . . really. Besides, have you considered for one moment that the thought of saying farewell to you might be painful for me? That having you here as a spirit I can never touch is