Free Jinx's Magic by Sage Blackwood

to mark him off from the rest. Until he got that curse put on him, of course.”
    â€œThe one that keeps him from saying who he is,” said Jinx.
    â€œNow you’re giving away Reven’s curse,” said Elfwyn, turning on him.
    â€œIt’s not the same,” said Jinx. “Your curse can hurt you. People can use it. Reven’s using you.”
    â€œReven’s curse can hurt him too!” said Elfwyn.
    â€œNot like yours can.” How could she be so stupid about Reven? “He’s going to use you as long as you let him!”
    â€œI’m helping him,” said Elfwyn. “That’s not the same thing as being used!”
    â€œAnd I appreciate it, good lady,” Reven put in. He smiled at her. Elfwyn glowed.
    â€œHe doesn’t feel the same way about you that you feel about him,” said Jinx.
    The silence that followed this remark was ice cold, and Elfwyn’s bright-red pool of hurt spread out into it.
    â€œYou—” Elfwyn started.
    â€œReally—” said Reven.
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Elfwyn.
    â€œAll those pink fluffy thoughts.” Jinx dug himself in deeper. “Reven’s not thinking pink fluffy thoughts at you. He’s—”
    Elfwyn turned and ran out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her.
    â€œWas that necessary?” said Reven.
    Before Jinx could answer, the door burst open again.
    The two men who’d been with Lady Nilda in the forest swept in. Lazy Lord Badgertoe, moving faster than Jinx would have thought possible, grabbed Jinx by the collar and lifted him right off the floor. Jinx flailed and kicked, choking, and then got slammed up against the marble wall. There he was allowed to breathe again, but when he tried to struggle free, Lord Badgertoe kicked him.
    Dame Franca got to her feet. “The tall one says he’s Prince Raymond, my lord.” She smiled tightly. “Why don’t you find out?”
    â€œOh, we’ll find out.” Lord Badgertoe laughed, a sound like empty barrels falling down stairs. “We always do.”
    Dame Franca hobbled out of the room, and the door shut behind her.

8
    The King of Nowhere
    S ir Thrip had wrestled Reven into a corner. “Who are you?” he spat.
    â€œReven of Bragwood,” Reven said. He had one eye swollen shut, and a gash on his forehead.
    â€œI thought you said you were Prince Raymond, hey.” Sir Thrip, fingers twitching madly, drew his sword. The sword jumped and jerked in his hand, dancing less than an inch from Reven’s throat. “Tell me who you really are.”
    â€œReven.”
    â€œKill the other one,” said Sir Thrip.
    Something sharp bit into Jinx’s neck. He felt blood trickling down into his collar. He reached for the fire inside him, and discovered to his horror that it wasn’t there.
    â€œDon’t!” said Reven. “I’ll tell you who I am.”
    â€œYou can’t,” said Jinx, fighting down panic. Why couldn’t he do magic? Where was his power?
    â€œI can! I’m—”
    Jinx watched Reven struggle to speak. The blood running down Jinx’s neck was puddling behind his collarbone. He struggled to stay calm. He knew he could do magic, he knew the fire must be there—
    â€œYes?” said Sir Thrip.
    â€œI’m—” Reven spluttered.
    â€œWhere do you come from?”
    â€œBragwood.”
    â€œThe truth. Who is your father? Who is your mother?”
    Reven opened his mouth and closed it, like a startled goldfish.
    â€œYou’ll tell us who you are by the count of five, or your friend dies. One. Two.”
    There! Jinx’s magic was just barely there, a tiny flicker inside him. He tried to set Lord Badgertoe’s clothes on fire. Power and concentration. He hardly had any power, so he concentrated as hard as he could. A tiny brown dot appeared on Lord Badgertoe’s sleeve, and then