Cover Copy
The witch mark on Nin’s hand is a curse. She has no magic powers, whatever the lore says. But the village believes. The old crone’s wisdom is to see her banished. Ragged and hungry, she must serve the Mage. Alone in his tower, she is his chattel. But Mage Thabit is not what Nin expected—the bright green eyes and supple form under his cloak are not the stuff of nightmares, and kindness hides in his brusque heart. Thabit senses that Nin is more than she seems, too. When true nightmares haunt the land, it is precisely her elusive powers that might deliver them…
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Books by Daisy Banks
A Matter of Some Scandal
Fiona’s Wish
Timeless
To Eternity
Marked For Magic
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Marked For Magic
Daisy Banks
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 by Daisy Banks
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First Electronic Edition: April 2015
eISBN-13: 978-1-61650-699-5
eISBN-10: 1-61650-699-7
First Print Edition: April 2015
ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-700-8
ISBN-10: 1-61650-700-4
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To those from whom I have learned so much.
Author’s Foreword
A while ago, as I sat idling on the train, I studied my palm. I spent some time pondering the marks in the middle. Once home, I looked the marks up and was surprised by what I discovered. The idea for this story came to me based on that research.
I am lucky because I live in a world where no one questions such strange marks. What might happen if I found myself in a place where the marks might cost me my life?
Chapter 1
Please, gods, let him feed me before he does anything else.
Only the Mage, this tower’s owner, stood between her and death in the forest. The massive door in his round stone tower remained closed, taunting her fragile courage. Her trepidation grew as she peered around the curved wall in the hope she might find a window so she could see inside. Thick dark drapes barred her view within the glazed arch.
What happened in there?
Her gut twisted as she lifted her chin and counted four other darkened windows set in deep mullions.
Was the Mage so awesome? Did he really make magic all the day? She’d seen him in the market place when she and Alicia peeked around the edge of the potters workshop. A pity she’d not let Alicia persuade her to go look at the things he traded, but she didn’t have anything worthy to barter. How she wished now she’d been as brave as some of the others who had tried to see under the hood he always wore.
Bile from her empty stomach stung at the base of her throat. Gulping, she swallowed the bitter taste. Shivers ran over her skin, but she did not turn away. Whatever he did, it would be less than the death she faced as an outcast from the village.
A sigh escaped before she set her jaw.
She shouldn’t be foolish about him. She must stay here, if he would allow it.
The sun climbed over the zenith casting shadow on a corner of the door she faced. A long time had passed since dawn when Agnes had yanked her from the tiny wicker cage to face the baying crowd of villagers.
Someone had shoved her from behind toward the gateway. No one had offered a hand when she stumbled. They’d simply yelled louder until she dragged herself up. Barefoot, she’d headed out of the village.
Each time she paused on the path, they had thrown stones to force her onward. Some of the missiles had hit, one or two landing hard. Even now, her shoulder ached from one heavy thump. Once she got beyond the gate, the stones had rained down like hail. Many of them had landed near enough to force her off the village path, away into the forest edge. The big gates to the village had slammed behind her, and although she longed to cry out to be allowed back inside, she couldn’t beg. Her pleas would have only prompted taunts and laughter from those safe within the palisade.
After the iron bolts had rattled shut, she’d searched half the morning among the tall weeds for the path to this tower. As she stumbled along, she’d tried to convince herself Agnes had lied.
The Mage did good things for people. Why would he use her so ill?
Agnes screeched in her thoughts each time she dwelt on the question. “He’ll use you for a whore because you’re a witch and fit for nothing else.”
Shut up you old hag!
Nin laced her fingers together. She squeezed her palms tight until her knuckles went white. He had to be here, and he must let her stay. Any moment she anticipated the gleam of golden wolf eyes in the nearby bushes to announce her death.
A deep breath pushed away the panic. A fragment of courage held tight in her fist, she rapped at the door. The loud thumps echoed on the wood to send the birds squawking.
About to knock again, she raised her hand. The door shot forward. Stumbling back, she yelped at the blow to her fist and stuffed her hand into her armpit to soothe the throb.
“What do you want, wench?” The deep voice came from the shadows.
She whimpered, gritting her teeth, while she pressed her hand tight under her arm. “I’m from the village.” Her voice came out like the squeak of a mouse.
He remained in the gloom of the doorway.
She squinted to make out a brown boot beneath the hem of a green robe. Her stomach rolled. “They’ve sent me to you.”
“Oh, by all that’s blessed! I don’t want them sending me wenches. Go back to your home. Tell them I won’t want a woman until after Samhain. Tell them to send me bread instead.”
She