Abaddon's Mark

Chapter Twenty-Two

Graydon sat across from Naena as she read the little recipe card the cook had given her. Before her sat the ingredients she needed to make brownies. Each item carefully selected, sniffed, and even tasted.

Yes, even the flour had been tasted, and the eggs were given an experimental lick to the sides.

In common folk, the motion would appear strange, but witnessing a mage perform the task reminded Graydon keenly of just how much Naena had burned through to wield the magic she had created over the first term. With every flick of her tongue, brush of her fingertips, Naena absorbed a little of the essence of her ingredients.

Taking magic into her being, to be used in the future as a replacement for real ingredients, if she could collect enough.

"What were you going there for?" he asked.

"Going where for?" Naena asked as she bent to read the card.

"The elemental workroom. Please don't make me dance around the point. You didn't go there to throw both you and Nendan into the fire over brownies."

"Oh, yes, that," she muttered. "I wanted to ask about the use of water. I mean, you give a swish and flick and it just kind of goes poof and all over the place. That's not the point of it. And water is supposed to be the simplest to use."

"Naena, don't."

"Don't what? Don't learn? Isn't that why I'm here?"

"Isn't it bad enough that you're a healer learning to be a war mage who is drenched in hell magic, creating spells idly as if it's no big deal? Isn't it bad enough that you can't speak to your peers because of what you do with your magic? Just don't—"

A wooden spoon jabbed forward, clipping the end of Graydon's nose in her anger.

He was almost certain Naena only meant to jab the spoon at him, not to nick the end of his nose.

"Do you enjoy living?" she bellowed.

Graydon suspected it was more than a simple moment of anger. Days or weeks of resentment had built up to that point, so he let her have her anger rather than call her on it. They hadn't, after all, had the chance to pick up their conversation where they had left off during their argument.

"Do you like your bits attached where they are currently attached?" she bellowed.

The items in the kitchen didn't rattle.

He felt a moment of panic before he recalled that she had no magic of her own. Not for several more days.

This was just Naena.

And she was a rage-filled little woman.

Graydon bared his teeth in a daring grin.

"Well?" she snapped, that wooden spoon not budging in the least as she glared at him from across the work desk.

"Go ahead, try me," he growled out. "You might even stand a chance."

She made to hit him on the head with the wooden spoon, cursing under her breath, through clenched teeth as she let out half-grumbled complaints about everything to do with him. Each time the spoon moved, Graydon shifted his head easily out of the way of the spoon.

If she wanted to hit him, he knew she could have.

When she finished, she let out a huff, a little bit of hair hanging in her face. The hair had escaped her braid, a fact that Graydon had noticed more than once since he had locked her magic away.