by Beth Alvarez
Ennil shrugged. “Lomithrandel's unusual condition was how the king and I came to be friends in the first place. My son always has had a particular skill for becoming entangled with the royal family.” He gave Vahn a sidewise look. “I don't believe for a second that the boy killed his father on purpose. He was headstrong and foolish, but he loved his father dearly. Kifel's downfall was his own fault. He was too soft, too lenient with those he cared for. Let them walk all over him. Of course, that's how you were taken away from him to begin with, hmm?”
Firal gritted her teeth and clutched her cup so firmly, her knuckles turned white. “Why are you here, Lord Tanrys?”
“To offer my help.” A fleeting hint of sorrow crossed his face and was replaced with a steely frown.
Help? What help could he possibly offer her? Her eyes darted to Vahn, his refusal to look at her stirring her ire. “I beg your pardon?”
Ennil set his cup on the edge of her desk. “To help you get a handle on the kingdom, put your head on straight. If you're what the mages think ought to rule us, you'd better be able to do it properly. Especially since House Tanrys is along for the ride. Vahnil is my only child. My only son. The livelihood of my family depends on him.”
Vahn cringed and walked to the windows.
“Then perhaps you should have had more children,” Firal replied frostily.
Ennil leaned forward and gave her a stare so hard it made the hair on the back of her neck rise. “And I would have, if the choice were mine. A sword took that decision from me when it took my cullions.”
A flush rose into her cheeks and she looked away.
The man went on, unruffled. “Now all my expectations fall on him. I blame myself, really. I taught him to aim high. Perhaps I should have taught him to know his limits, instead. Don't mistake me, girl, it's not because of you that I've never come to visit before.”
Firal's brow furrowed. “You have no reason to be angry at Vahn. He is king-regent and married to the queen. He's done House Tanrys an incredible favor.”
“The only favor he's done House Tanrys is being responsible enough to marry you after you were with child.”
After she was with child? Her eyes settled on Vahn's back as anger flared in her chest.
Ennil scowled and shook his head. “Now I'm here to fix this mess. I served your father as Captain of the Guard for many years before I took my retirement. I'll need a higher rank than that if I'm to sort out this disaster the mages handed to a pair of children.”
“I am not a child,” Firal snapped. “I'm a grown woman and fully capable of sorting this out on my own.”
“Are you?” Ennil sneered as he pushed himself from his chair. “Well then. My apologies, my queen, but it doesn't look that way. When next you call your council together, I expect a summons to sit on it. Is that understood?”
Her eyes widened and her shoulders bunched. The heat of anger spread from her chest to her limbs.
“Understood,” Vahn said from the window. “We will call for you. Thank you, Father.”
Pleased, Ennil nodded and gave a bow almost deep enough to look sincere. “Very well. Have a fine day, my lady. May the Lifetree's leaves fall as blessings upon you.”
Firal responded with the slightest incline of her head and stood to see him out. He didn't wait for her, brushing out of her office with his cape swirling behind him. He left the door wide open and Medreal grumbled as she went to close it. “I don't like that man.” Her words were just loud enough for Firal to hear. “Never have, can't imagine I ever will.”
The moment the door latched, Firal spun on her heel to hurl her teacup at Vahn's head. He barely dodged. The cup shattered against the wall. “After I was with child!” she cried, squeezing her hands to fists until they trembled at her sides. “You told him! How could you? After everything we've been through—”
“It's not what you think!” Vahn flinched as she snatched a second teacup from the tray.
“I'll thank you to stop breaking my porcelain,” the stewardess said as she plucked the cup from Firal's hand. She took the tea tray from the desk and cradled it close. “You're more like your father than you realize, Majesty. And I don't mean that in a good way.” She sniffed and marched out of the office before more of the tea set could be ruined.
Firal gritted her teeth and folded her arms across her chest. “So you want your family to think me a harlot? The entire purpose of you and I being together was to prevent that, and you went and—”
“Firal,” Vahn interrupted, reprimanding. He moved forward, hands outstretched in gesture for her to settle. “They don't think ill of you. No one thinks ill of you. That's exactly why I told my father what I did.”
“That I was pregnant out of wedlock?” she demanded.
“That it was my fault!”
She blinked, taken aback. It took a moment for her to shift the surprise on her face back into a scowl.
Vahn rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “You forget you're not the only one who had a relationship before this happened. One minute I was courting Kytenia, even thinking of asking to marry her, the next I'm being crowned as... as...” he faltered and waved a hand in irritation. “Whatever I'm supposed to be! Don't you think it was hard for me, too?”
Firal looked away. She hadn't forgotten his ties to her dearest friend, nor the way Kytenia had been the one to offer Vahn as a solution to her problems.
“I had to explain that to my family. They knew her, and they knew what she meant to me. So when my father asked why I was abandoning that to marry you instead, I...” He paused and wet his lips with his tongue. “I told him I'd taken advantage of you. That I'd sullied your honor and had to fix it. I told him Lumia was mine.”
She bit her lower lip and watched him from the corner of her eye. “And he believed you?”
Vahn hesitated. “Yes, because I'd made a bit of a reputation for myself. Not true, mind you, of course not true. But a reputation, nonetheless.” His expression softened as he moved closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. “If anyone thinks ill of the situation, it's because of me. Not because of you.”
“If anyone thinks ill of the situation, they still think ill of me.” She couldn't keep the edge from her voice. “No matter what people believe, someone's name is going to be dragged through the mud. You'll have to forgive me if I don't want to be remembered as the queen who was taken advantage of.”
He sucked in a breath and held it for a long moment. She could tell he struggled to keep hold of his temper. It had never seemed difficult for him before; he was so much calmer in demeanor than she. It always took every bit of restraint for her to hold her anger in check. His silence made it boil harder within her now, and she clamped her mouth shut for fear she might shriek like a whistling teakettle.
“I'm doing the best I can,” he said at last. “The only people who've heard that story are my mother and father, and they'll take it to their graves before they let it cast a shadow over the family name. Go ahead and think them untrustworthy if that's what you want, but you'd be well served to remember your own father trusted them with Ran's secrets. Those are much more dangerous than ours.”
Firal snorted at that. More dangerous than their lie, perhaps. The truth was another story. She couldn't think of a worse secret to be keeping, not with how the city seemed wound tight and ready to lash against the Underling army camped right outside its border. Her child was the child of the man who'd led that army against Ilmenhith. The man who killed their king. She hadn't really come to terms with it, herself, but her personal problems were the least of what she had to be concerned about now. A queen had to be selfless, put her people before herself. There would be time in the future to deal with the rest. To bury the feelings she still had for Daemon. For Ran. Rune, she reminded herself. The name that combined his two lives into one. The name I gave him when we started our life together.
“Firal?” Vahn's voice jarred her back to herself. He stood with one hand raised as if he meant to to
uch her, but didn't know if he should. The concerned way he looked at her made her aware of the tears that traced lines down her cheeks.
She wiped them away with the side of her thumb. “What did your father mean?”
His brow furrowed. “About what?”
“When he spoke of Ran escaping.” She'd been occupied at the time, dealing with the Archmage and Relythes, king of the island's other half. The relief of hearing Rune had escaped during their meeting had weakened her knees and brought tears to her eyes, emotions she'd been fortunate were mistaken for grief at her father's murderer escaping execution for his crime. But how he'd made it out, she still didn't know.
Vahn wavered.
Her chest tightened. “You know how he made it out of the dungeon, don't you?”
He bowed his head and swallowed before he managed a nod.
Tears pricked her eyes again. “Were you involved, Vahn?”
“You aren't the only one who cared about him.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. “He was my best friend, Firal. I couldn't see him die.”
“Is he alive? Do you know where he is?” Desperation colored her words. She struggled to keep from crying again.
“I don't know,” he said, honest and apologetic, worry creasing his brow. “I hope so, but if he is, I don't think he's on Elenhiise any longer. The island is so small. Now that everyone knows about the city under the ruins, there's nowhere for him to hide.”
Despite all her sensibilities, her heart sank. There was sense in what Vahn said, especially with the border between the two halves of the island closed to travelers. She forced herself to nod as she gathered her skirts and started toward the door.
Vahn moved after her. “Where are you going?”
“To see to my daughter. Do me a favor? If you venture into the city again, carry a message to the Underling camp and tell Davan I wish to meet with him.” She drew a breath and collected herself, smoothing her hair and drying her eyes before she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She didn't hear any affirmation from Vahn, but since he didn't follow her, she knew he wouldn't protest.
The meeting was already in progress when Envesi and the others arrived in the lecture hall. Melora and Alira walked before her. Envesi wished they would move faster. Most of the hall was already occupied, forcing the three of them to sit at the back, though the shape of the vast room and the amplification magic helped carry the sound of the councilors' voices to the farthest reaches of the hall.
“There's nothing to fear from Roberian. They're our primary source of food. Commerce is better than ever, especially since we've cut the Royal City and their taxes and tariffs from the middle. Aldaan is our only concern.”
Envesi couldn't decide if the Master mage speaking sounded defensive or annoyed. His back was turned to the audience, but she couldn't have seen his face from that distance anyway.
The council met at a round table where a podium might have stood for a normal lecture. Had she known the lecture hall would be so crowded, she would have insisted they arrive early. But this was the first meeting of any importance that had been called together since they began their penance, and none of them anticipated the mages of the Grand College would be so interested in politics. Envesi squinted at the table, struggling to make out the faces of the councilors she’d tried to memorize. She thought the first fellow was Orneld, but she wasn’t certain.
“We would be fools to move against Aldaan! The last time the Aldaanan pushed against us was when magic was bound, several thousand years ago. The last thing we want is to rile them again.” Master Arrick was supposed to be seated beside Headmaster Tolmarni, but it looked as if he were trying to climb onto the table.
“Enough.” The headmaster motioned for them to settle and the seventeen mages around him quieted, though few looked happy. “We're all aware of what the Aldaanan think of our magic. We don't need to go over that again. It's not a question of what they think, it's a question of how we work around them.”
“What are they talking about?” Alira asked in a whisper. Envesi gave her a sidewise glance.
“I'm not certain,” Melora said, frowning until her weathered face looked pinched. “This is the first I've heard any mages discuss matters of the region.”
“There is no working around the Aldaanan.” The Master who had been speaking when they first entered lifted his voice again. He was irritated; Envesi was sure of his identity now. She’d never met Orneld, but the college mages often muttered about his miserable disposition. “Either Lore and Roberian break away from the Triad, or the Grand College is done for. It's reached a point where our mages cannot even walk the streets of the Royal City! The whole place is warded against magic. Even our healers have been shut out. As long as they continue to bend to the desires of the Aldaanan and try to rob us of our power, we will continue to fail.”
“And what makes you think Roberian would want to break away from the Triad alliance?” A woman spoke, this time. Envesi was surprised to see Minet sitting at the council table. The girl had been a novice in gray when Envesi left. “They're the weakest country out of the three of us. Only the laws of the Triad put us on equal footing. We'd be battling Aldaan and trying to consume Roberian at the same time.”
“There's no need to push against Roberian,” the headmaster interjected. “We stand against Aldaan, no one else. If the Aldaanan forfeit or are defeated, all that happens is Lore becomes bigger or their territory is taken by a different power.”
“I still see no reason to go against them at all,” another mage grumbled. His manner of speech so reminded Envesi of Nondar that it made her scowl. “The Grand College has enough power outside the Triad. If the Aldaanan continue to be a threat to our success, we're best served to move to wherever they are not. Our sway has lessened, but there are still places we are welcome and needed. Even in the reaches of the southern continent.”
“And how long until the opposition follows us there, as well?” Minet rose from her chair. “We cannot continue to flee from mages with the power to strip us of our Gifts. Without magic, we are nothing.”
The headmaster nodded at that. “Minet is correct. We cannot run. We face the Aldaanan here and now. The Royal City has resisted every compromise we've offered, so now we are forced to oppose the Royal City, as well. And you know what that means.”
Arrick fell back to his chair and clasped his hands together against the edge of the table. “War.”
Envesi straightened. Melora shifted at her side.
“War?” Alira breathed. Her wide eyes made her look ever more like a child and less like the Master mage she used to be.
“So it is,” Envesi murmured with a slight smile. “Mages at war.”
“And mages at war means no one in the college to supervise what magelings are studying or experimenting on.” Melora smiled in return.
Envesi leaned forward until her elbows rested on her knees. Her white hair spilled over her shoulders. “That certainly makes things interesting, doesn't it?” She rubbed her chin, turning the facets of the issue over in mind. If the college opposed the Aldaanan, they would have to face mages wielding the very thing she sought for herself. Free magic. Something precious, something wild, something so threatening that the Grand College now sought to stamp it out in their enemies.
The college Masters couldn't oppose such a power, not as they were. The bonds of affinity imposed on them in ages past made sure of that. But if Envesi could loosen those bindings, give even a few of them the ability to touch the power of everything around them, unfettered by affinity or element... She shivered at the idea.
“And who in the Grand College would turn against such a thing in wartime?” she mused aloud.
“What was that?” Melora eyed her with a frown.
Envesi didn't offer any explanation, too lost in her own thoughts. She pushed herself up and smoothed her skirts and hair. “Excuse me, my sisters.” She slipped past the two of them and made her way to the stairs that led outside, then hurried off t
o find the headmaster's office.
It was a golden opportunity, after all, and she'd speak to him of the matter if it meant waiting by his door all night.
7
Failing Futures
A soft breeze stirred the papers on Nondar's desk and fluttered the leaves of the open book before him. He grunted as he paged back to his place, displeased to see the wet ink smudged on the opposite page. He leaned back in his chair, dropped his quill to the desktop, and rubbed his aching wrist with the gnarled fingers of his left hand.
His mood was sour despite the pleasant weather, the warm sunbeams and soft breezes carrying sweet scents from the garden doing nothing to improve his disposition. Pleasant weather didn't help him accomplish his work, nor did it help solve the problems piling up on his desk. He could have delegated some of it, but there were few mages in the temple he trusted to help with his work. Anaide and Edagan—his fellow Masters and the leaders of the two still-functioning houses of affinity—were the obvious choices. But he'd had enough of their pushing and prodding, wheedling and nagging. They resented the fact he'd been given the title of Archmage instead of one of them. Neither said it, but with the way they still tried to assert themselves over him, they didn't have to.
He couldn't fault the women for how they felt. As strong as he was in his Gift, they were several centuries older than he, with strength and experience to show it. And while they were older, Nondar showed his age in ways the two women did not—one of many shortcomings he had his half-mage heritage to thank for. His frailty did him no favors.
But he held no resentment for his Giftless blood and never had. His healing affinity tied him to life forces and gave him longevity to rival any Giftless Eldani. Their innate magic slowed their growth and let them live three centuries, perhaps four if they were fortunate, while his full-blooded peers saw their lives stretched to at least six. Almost to his fourth century of life, Nondar held nothing but pride for what he'd accomplished in his many years.
