Free Jinx's Magic by Sage Blackwood Page A

widened, painfully slowly.
    â€œI’m—” said Reven again.
    â€œThree.”
    A thin thread of smoke rose from the brown spot as Reven struggled to speak. The spot became an ashy gray circle. Still no flames.
    â€œFour . . .”
    â€œI’m—” said Reven.
    Finally a tongue of flame licked up from Lord Badgertoe’s velvet sleeve.
    â€œFive. Five, five, FIVE!” Sir Thrip turned to Lord Badgertoe. “What do you think?”
    â€œIt’s definitely him,” said Lord Badgertoe. “Prince Raymond.” The flame crawled from his shirt cuff up to his shoulder.
    â€œYes, obviously. But do we let him live?”
    â€œThat was the whole point in the first place, wasn’t it?” said Lord Badgertoe.
    â€œGreat Keys, man, you’re on fire! Burning like a pretty little candle!”
    Lord Badgertoe looked down and yelped. He swatted furiously at his sleeve. Jinx pushed past him and rushed for the door. Then he stopped. There was Reven, still held prisoner, Sir Thrip’s sword leaping and wriggling at his throat. Lord Badgertoe tore off his velvet doublet, threw it on the floor, and stamped on it. Jinx had no more magic left to use. Before he could decide what to do, Lord Badgertoe lunged forward and tackled him. Jinx hit the stone floor hard, and for a moment everything went black.
    â€œ. . . red-hot iron shoes,” he heard when he came around again. It was Lord Badgertoe talking.
    â€œNo.” Reven’s voice. “There will be no red-hot iron shoes.”
    â€œBut he’s obviously some sort of magician.”
    â€œNonsense,” said Reven. “He’s my friend.”
    Jinx scrambled to his feet. But Sir Thrip and Lord Badgertoe barely glanced at him. They had lowered their swords and were talking to Reven, who was making no effort to get away.
    â€œAs you are a friend to us,” said Lord Badgertoe.
    Reven fixed him with a look that positively dripped disdain. “Indeed?”
    â€œA safety net,” said Sir Thrip. “You were our escape hatch. If King Bluetooth got out of hand, all we had to do was remind him that we could feed his guts to geese whenever we chose, and bring back his nephew.”
    â€œWe hardly expected you to bring yourself back, though,” said Lord Badgertoe. “It complicates things.”
    â€œComplicates things? Not necessarily,” said Sir Thrip. “I’ve grown weary of our old king. It’s time for a fresh face. And Bluetooth’s pretty hard to manage.”
    â€œYou might find me hard to manage too,” said Reven. Rather unwisely, in Jinx’s opinion, but then wisdom wasn’t really what you expected from Reven.
    â€œIf we found you hard to manage, we’d take steps,” said Sir Thrip.
    Reven turned his gaze on Sir Thrip. Sir Thrip took a step backward.
    â€œThen you’d have no one,” said Reven.
    Lord Badgertoe and Sir Thrip looked at each other.
    â€œNotice the air of nobility,” said Sir Thrip. “Born to command.”
    â€œWith a certain amount of guidance,” said Lord Badgertoe. “No one commands without guidance.”
    â€œHe’s a natural leader. Quite unlike this woodrat.” Sir Thrip nodded at Jinx. “Royal blood always shows.”
    â€œCertainly it does with such assistance as yours,” said Reven, dabbing at the cut on his forehead. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to look for a friend of mine. Come along, Jinx.”
    He started toward the door, and Jinx, annoyed at being summoned like a dog, nonetheless started to follow. Sir Thrip seized him. Jinx felt a knife point jab into his back.
    â€œJinx is coming with me, good sir,” said Reven, even more icily.
    â€œHe’s a magician,” said Sir Thrip. “Magicians dance in red-hot iron shoes, hey. It’s the law.”
    â€œThe law has changed,” said Reven.
    â€œYou can’t change the