7
Magic poured over me like crystalline water from an enchanted waterfall, cool and effervescent on my skin. For a heartbeat, I waited. But nothing came. No pain. No curse. No weird magical crap. Instead, the air greeted me like a lover’s sigh, fragrant with pine needles and blossoms I couldn’t name, their perfume light and intoxicating.
Before me stretched a forest indistinguishable from the one I’d left behind. If not for the subtle thrum of magic in the earth beneath my feet, I might’ve simply wandered into a particularly lovely glade.
A shiver raced down my spine. Had I crossed into Phaantasia before and simply not known it?
Ace turned toward me, his dark gaze locking with mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of conflict, or pain, maybe, or something darker. But then the expression was gone, replaced by his usual calm, unreadable mask. “Are you okay?”
I froze.
The magic of Phaantasia had made some noticeable changes after all. Ace had always been striking in that maddening, effortless way. Tall and broad shouldered, he had a body carved from hard work and discipline. His face held the kind of symmetry that made people pause—a strong jaw, high cheekbones and eyes the colour of warm earth after heavy rainfall.
Phaantasia made him devastating. The light in this realm clung to him, dancing along the strands of his dark hair like gold dust caught in the moonlight. His parted lips looked soft and tempting, making all sorts of salacious promises. His dark gaze shone like polished mahogany and his skin glowed faintly, a warm, luminous sheen that hummed with the magic permeating around us.
But it wasn’t his impossible beauty making me stumble back. It was his ears.
Elegant, slender, and unmistakably pointed.
The change struck me like a wet slap across the face. I blinked once, then again, as if the sight might vanish under scrutiny. But it didn’t. Those ears, subtle yet undeniable, marked him as a phaanon.
“Phaan,” I breathed, barely aware the word had left my lips. My heart slammed against my ribs like a caged beast. “You’re one of them.”
He frowned at me. “What?”
“You’re phaanon.” I pointed at his ears.
He stepped closer, and the space between us pulsed with energy. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. He reached up and touched the pointy lips of his ears. “If these make me phaanon, then I have some bad news for you.”
A chill swept my body at the warning in his tone. “What?”
He jerked his chin at me and tapped his ears. No. No, that wasn’t right. I reached up and touched my ears, tracing the edges until I reached the tip, they were still rounded, not pointy. The orphanage’s headmaster had commented how Paul and I arrived with all kinds of wounds, including bloody ears. That had been one of the final clues I’d needed to figure out my lineage.
Ace had been with me when I confronted the headmaster. Had that been the final clue for him, too?
My head grew light, and I swayed on my feet. How much did Ace know? “I don’t understand.”
Ace tilted his head. “Don’t you?”
I dropped my hands to my side and blinked at him. “My ears aren’t pointy.”
“But they were.”
Ace had connected the dots.
“They were cut when you were infants,” he said. “The scars glow here, but I guess you can’t see that. We’ll have to find you a mirror,” he said. “I always suspected, of course. But then you were struck with a poisoned arrow, and I knew.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Haven’t you wondered why you have a familiar when others don’t?”
That wasn’t what my brain was stumbling over. Ace…Ace was. “You’re one of them? One of us?”
His lips quirked up at the corners, and he leaned in. “There are many types of magical beings with pointed ears.”
Okay…That was not helpful at all. “Well…what kind are you?”
“Don’t worry, Mouse. I’m not an immortal phaanon like you. You will still be able to kill me later.” His lips twitched. “But if you want to know what I am, you’re not going to get that information for free. What are you willing to trade?”
