Read Online Mine to Spell (Mine #2) by Janeal Falor - Free Book Online Page A

around these parts. More like someone who needs to be shown their place.”
                  Coat Man shrugs, nonchalant-like. “Whether you believe it or not, I’m watching over her. And as for showing me my place, I’m here from Chryos preparing for the tournament. Your country so graciously invited me to come.”
    Chryos? Tournament? That explains so much. If men from Envado, like Zade, are different, why wouldn't men from other countries be courteous as well? Do they do things like offering their coats to cold women without another purpose? Though claiming to be a friend of my owner is a little farfetched and watching over me?
    “Your country may have the coal the council wants, but it doesn’t mean the rest of us are gracious about anything.” The crooked-toothed warlock spits. “Best stick with her. You wouldn’t want your friend in trouble because she’s wandering alone and doesn’t look as she ought.”
    “ Point taken, sir. Thank you for your help.”
    The warlock glares at Coat Man and then at me before storming off. Relief drenches me, easing my magic but not my posture. The gathered crowd dissipates once the law officer is gone, though with many backward glances. The Chryon lingers, thumbs hooked in his pockets.
    Once the listening ears are far enough away, I say, “Watching over me?”
    “ It’s not a lie.” Though his words are defensive, his hands remain in his pockets, as if he’s relaxed.
    “ Yes, it is. You don’t know me or my owner.”
    “ You are wearing my coat.”
    The statement sends an irrational amount of embarrassment flooding through me, but I don’t let that show. “A coat doesn’t make you friends with my owner. Besides, you said I could keep it, which makes it mine.”
    “You’ve got me there.” He leans in a little closer, and suddenly my mouth feels dry. “But I did give it to you.”
    My mind is blank. I can’t think of a single response. Nothing that would bring any sense to this situation. I can’t even reach my usual fake smile that everyone falls for. Yet he grins, his small yet powerful grin, like he knows it.
    What is wrong with me? This is a warlock I’m thinking about. There’s not a single, valid reason I should be turning into the puddled mess I’m always pretending to be around warlocks. I jerk away. His smile dims and for some reason it makes me want to lean back in, which only makes me angry with myself. I divert my gaze back toward the ground where it should have been the entire time.
    “ It is true that I was requested to watch over you,” he says.
    This pulls me out of my ridiculous thoughts and helps my stoic face regain its facade. “Oh? And who ordered that? Edward?”
    “Who’s Edward?” He sounds so genuinely puzzled that I have to believe Edward truly didn’t send him. Except then, who did? He continues, “Whoever he is, I’m helping anyway. What would have happened just now if I hadn’t?”
    I have no idea, but just thinking on it sends my magic spiraling madly again. “Do you know? Being a foreigner, it’s not as if you know the customs here.”
    He rocks on the balls of his feet, yet says nothing. Perhaps I’m mistaken. He could know. Perhaps they’re even harsher to their women in Chryos. Maybe doing kind things like giving women their coats when it’s raining is a way to lift them up so when they’re punished, the women have all the farther to fall. I have farther to fall.
    In any case, his point is correct. Whatever happened wouldn’t have been good. Very well. He wins. For now. But I’m not admitting it aloud. I cross my arms in front of my chest and stare him down.
    “I have a friend who’s good at helping with situations like yours,” he says.
    A friend? That’s not cryptic. “How do you even know what my situation is?”
    “Please. You’ve been outside, in the rain I have to add, since sometime before I went to the bakery this morning. Chardonia women never do that. And, though it’s not very