Spotlight on Unexpected Magic

Unexpected Magic is the first book in the series, Many Kinds of Magic. It is set in the Regency era of another universe—one in which magic is real and has never faded out of the world. And that changes the history of the United Kingdom and the time of the Napoleonic wars in ways both subtle and obvious. For some relevant touch points regarding the historical changes, see the author notes.

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Jasper Thornton was just a child when his mage-gift first surfaced—a powerful gift that delighted his relatives and won him recognition as heir to the Duke of Findlater.

Twenty years on, he is still failing to live up to that early promise, his power still strong, but erratic and unfocused. Now the despair of his family and of the London College of Mages, he has been reduced to running errands for the duke and the Crown.

Cordelia Nettleford is the ordinary daughter of a couple with only sufficient magic to cling onto the fringes of the peerage. Her parents’ hopes and dreams are fully invested in their only son, her younger brother.

Everything changes when Delia wakes up one morning to find that a dragon has hatched out of a hen’s egg and eaten most of the flock. The following explosion of magical manifestations centered on Nettleford Manor includes the birth of a unicorn.  Delia is selected as the unicorn’s maiden.

Sent to bring the unicorn and its maiden to London, Jasper discovers that Delia has one of the rarest gifts of all—and England’s enemies want her and her effect on others.

Falling in love with a lady set aside as the unicorn’s maiden is almost as futile as his unstable mage-gift, but he can’t seem to help himself. He is enchanted by her calm competence, her sense of duty, and her intelligence. He will just have to adore the lady from a distance and do everything he can to protect her.

Until direct danger to Delia sets Jasper’s gift free—and once he has rescued her, he will never allow them to be parted again, whatever the College of Mages and the royal family might say. Or Delia, herself.

 

 

Excerpt from Unexpected Magic

Jasper Thornton, nephew of the Duke of Findlater—and his probable heir if an unreliable magical gift ever amounted to anything—had one of those annoying premonitions that told him nothing. Something was happening. Something that would, at some undisclosed time in the future, have an unknown impact on him.

That was it. No specifics.

Could it be the war with France? On the continent, the battle mage Napoleon continued to conquer territory after territory, and everyone knew he had his eye on Great Britain. There were even rumors that the man was a dragon lord, or that he had a dragon lord in his court—and if that were true, Britain was doomed.

Everyone Jasper knew was desperately hoping it was just French propaganda and would come to nothing, as the rumors several years ago about a Welsh dragon lord had also come to nothing. It was probably untrue. Dragon lords were vanishingly rare, though the Welsh did have a very powerful mage who had taken the name Emrys, after the dragon lord the English called Merlin.

In fact, the only reason there was more than one in the entire world was that they lived for hundreds of years. None of the six currently alive was a European, and the one in Ethiopia, the youngest of the six, had already passed his first century mark.

If it were not for the war, Jasper would visit one of them. Perhaps they had lived long enough to know someone like him, with a powerful gift and no control. But here in Europe, the war dominated everything, although in Findlater’s London mansion, life went on as usual. Jasper had been begging to be allowed to go and fight. Even if his magic was unpredictable and near useless, he could still swing a sword and shoot a gun.

But the duke refused permission, so here Jasper remained, useless gift and all.

He had still been in the nursery when he first worked magic—usually the sign of a strong gift. However, it had never amounted to much. His ability to work a spell changed more frequently than the English weather. His tutors used to complain that he was lazy, undisciplined, just not trying. The duke ordered them to whip him, and that made it worse.

Thank goodness for Mr. Fellowes, the tutor who stayed. The tutor who realized that Jasper was trying as hard as he could to follow magical rules and practices that just didn’t fit his type of magic.

“It is not that Master Thornton does not know the spells, your grace,” Mr. Fellowes had told the duke. “I have observed him closely. His words, his actions, his tone of voice—he does everything precisely as he has been taught, and the results are—at best—unpredictable. Your grace, the young master is strongly thaumadiversus, as those who tested him in childhood discovered. But he has a type of magic that does not work by any rules we have yet discovered. For example, a weather spell for a gentle rain might, in Master Thornton’s hands, give us a day of sunny weather or a thunderstorm, and we can have no idea which.”

The duke had grumbled that such a gift was more like a curse, and Jasper was inclined to agree with him. But Mr. Fellowes was confident there must be patterns and rules to be discovered, even with unexpected magic like Jasper’s. “With further study and practice, my boy,” he had said, “I am hopeful you will learn to control your magic.”

Ten years later, Jasper was still trying.

He could reliably manage to start a fire now. He could levitate long enough to walk over a puddle dry shod, provided it was not too wide. He could cast a truth spell, at least well enough to know whether someone was being honest with him. Though sometimes even that backfired, and the person he was questioning wanted to share their sins all the way back to the cradle.

Still, these were skills most mages acquired in the first year after their magic initially manifested, after which they focused on their particular strengths. Jasper did not appear to have any particular strengths. Or, on different days, for unpredictable periods of time and with frequently undesirable results, he was good at a whole range of different gifts.

Weather working. Invisibility. Levitation. Elemental mastery. Magical beast handling. Scrying. Precognition. Translocation (of objects, sounds, and even himself—though he had given up on shifting living things when pieces of a pigeon he tried to translocate ended up in three different places. He could only be grateful it hadn’t happened the time he translocated himself.) You name it, Jasper could do it. Sometimes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kidnapping on WIP Wednesday

In Unexpected Magic, due for publication on June 16th, my heroine is saved by being kidnapped by a dragon. Is it out of the boiling kettle into the fire? Or something else?

***

Delia had no idea how much time had passed before she surfaced into consciousness. It was long enough for her to be somewhere else—somewhere she did not recognize. She was lying on her side on a grassy slope, looking down from a height across a body of water to the steep side of a mountain.

She moved cautiously, lifting herself up on her elbow. Every part of her ached, though she could see no visible wounds, and her limbs moved without increasing the pain. A glance told her that the lake, or perhaps river, had mountains on both sides, and that the gentle slope beneath her dropped away suddenly a dozen paces from her hands.

As she looked around, she realized she was not alone. The other occupant had been unseen behind her until she turned her head. He took up the full width of the slope and most of the length, and even so, his forelegs draped over the edge of the drop, as did his tail.

He—she could not have said why she thought the dragon was male, but she could not think of him by any other pronoun—gazed at her with large, calm, yellow-brown eyes. Perhaps she was still in shock, for she did not feel afraid. The dragon could have eaten her in one gulp, but he had not done so. Not yet, in any case. Indeed, if one looked at the situation dispassionately, he had saved her from the Welsh mage.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said.

The dragon inclined his head, as if acknowledging her comment. He was rather beautiful—a deep emerald-green, shading to mint-green on his belly and throat. His wings, folded now against his sides, were the deep green of his body but laced with gold, and the spine ridge that ran from the tip of his tail to the horns behind his ears was also gold.

As to his shape, he was everything she had ever imagined a dragon could be. On first sight, she had compared him to the chicken-house dragon, but up close and now that she was calm, she could see how wrong she had been. It was like comparing a pigeon hatchling to an adult peacock, or a rat to a thoroughbred horse. The same number of limbs, ears, eyes, and so on, but on one functional and on the other, elegance personified.

“Where are we?” she asked him, sitting up and looking around.

The dragon stood and walked away, heading along the ledge and around a corner. With no other viable option, Delia followed him, but stopped at the threshold of a cave whose entrance was so high that the dragon had gone ahead of her into the gloom, crouching and moving forward with his head down and his body nearly touching the ground.

A sudden burst of flame in the interior had her leaping backward. She looked longingly around at the landscape, but could see no signs of habitation, no hint of a possible rescue. If she ran, the dragon could catch her in moments.

He saved me from the mage, she repeated to herself, and stepped resolutely into the cave.

After several steps, it opened out into a great vaulted cavern. The dragon had lit a fire in the middle, and by its flickering light, Delia could see several smaller caves around the perimeter of the spacious central area.

It was cooler here underground, but the fire was not necessary. Except to see by, she supposed. But those tawny eyes had slitted pupils, like a cat’s. Did the dragon need light to see by?

She could not afford to be soothed by the sudden notion that he had lit the fire for her convenience. The dragon was a dangerous beast. He had already killed at least one person in front of her eyes—for she did not see how the man who had been holding her could have survived, and the mage might well have died from being thrown against the wall. Furthermore, the dragon had brought her here for an unknown purpose.

But he seemed mild enough at present. He lifted a forearm, claws outstretched—it took her a moment to realize he was pointing to one of the caves, for his paw, with its outstretched claws, looked nothing like a pointing hand.

But he waited patiently, his eyes moving back and forth from her to the cave in the direction of his gesture.

Once she guessed what he wanted and obeyed, she found the cave had been set up with an untidy bed of bracken covered unevenly with a blanket. “Who lives here?”

She did not realize she had spoken out loud until the dragon made a noise that sounded more like a gurgle than a roar, and she looked at him to find that he was gesturing to her.

I live here?” she asked. “You set this up for me?”

The dragon nodded.