Fate Forged

by B. P. Donigan

  Everything finally clicked in my brain. The marks on their necks, the plain clothing, and submissive posture—all those people were slaves. My eyes flicked to the man standing behind Tessa. He didn’t have the same parallel rows of marks on the sides of his neck, which I realized gave Aeternals access to their public energy pool—the Citizen Source. Each Barren had two sets of sigils, perhaps to compensate for having no magic of their own. I wondered if the man behind Tessa had been born a Barren, but I didn’t dare ask such a potentially personal question.

  Tessa noticed my stare. “This man is a Traiten. He is yours for the duration of your stay.”

  The man didn’t react as Tessa spoke about him.

  “A what?” I asked.

  “Traiten. He has been assigned as your personal servant. You may use him how you see fit.” Her face stayed completely neutral, reminding me of that blank mask Silas got whenever he was determined not to show what he was thinking. I noticed that Tessa hadn’t looked at the Traiten even once. She’d been ignoring his presence in a way that seemed strangely intentional. “Whatever you need, he will provide. He’ll fetch your food, send and receive messages, provide personal entertainment, whatever you need. He’ll obey your direct command, provided it doesn’t cause harm.”

  Personal entertainment? My mouth opened in shock.

  “Would you prefer a female?”

  I opened and closed my mouth without sound as I searched for an appropriate response. Using the Traiten was wrong on so many levels. A furious anger built inside of me, threatening to lash out at Tessa, my only potential ally.

  “Traiten, tell the Lord Magister that Lady Maeve prefers a female companion this evening. You can receive another assignment.”

  The markings around his wrists flared with energy. “Yes, Legatis,” he said in a low baritone before he bowed and moved toward the door.

  “Wait!” I called.

  He turned, and we made eye contact for the first time. He had the kind of boy-next-door looks that made me think he would be a great friend. His dark-brown eyes were full of intelligence, and in another life, they might have sparked with a good sense of humor.

  I was so angry, shaky sounds came out of my throat. “This is slavery. How could you do this to someone?”

  “A Traiten sentence is a punishment for a crime,” Tessa defended, her delicate features set with harsh disapproval. “They must repay their debt to society.”

  My head jerked side to side. I refused to accept slavery as an acceptable punishment for any crime. “What’s your name?” I asked the man.

  “I am Traiten,” he replied without meeting my gaze.

  What am I getting myself into? Nausea roiled in my stomach. No one should be treated like that.

  “I want him to stay,” I said to Tessa.

  “As you wish.” Tessa’s expression was neutral, but she seemed concerned. “Send him away when you’re done with him. I’ll be on guard outside this night.” With that, she bowed her head and left.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I plopped down on the sofa and buried my hands in my face. The Traiten’s eyes were on me from across the room. The Council had made me their prisoner, and now I’d tied someone else’s fate to my own. I needed to stop reacting and come up with a plan.

  “Could you not stare at me? I’m tired of being gawked at today,” I murmured through my fingers.

  The markings around the man’s wrists flared, and he looked away. Tessa had said he was required to obey me, and I realized that the marks on his wrists were the magical insurance that he would do everything I said, literally.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I said. “You can look at me if you want to.”

  His eyes drifted back to me warily. I was really screwing this up.

  “Why don’t you sit down if you want to?” I was pleased when the Traiten sigils didn’t flare again. I didn’t want to be a puppet master.

  He sat stiffly on the edge of the overstuffed chair.

  “Could I just order you not to follow any of my commands? That would be a lot easier.”

  “If you wish,” he said.

  “Would that make it so you wouldn’t have to do whatever I say?”

  His mouth twisted down at the corners. “I would most likely be reassigned. My free will won’t be returned until the Traiten sentence ends.”

  “How long is that exactly?”

  “One hundred anni.”

  “How long is an anni?”

  He mentally calculated before answering. “An annis is almost one of Earth’s years.”

  “You’re a slave for a hundred years? That’s insane! Did you kill the Pope?”

  He flinched. “Murder is an executable crime.”

  “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. What did you...” I wanted to avoid a direct command and not participate in this barbaric form of absolute slavery, but I needed to know if he was dangerous. “Can I ask you what you did to get such a harsh sentence? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  “I accepted a bribe.” He grimaced as a second sigil glowed on his neck with a faint red aura. It was small but incredibly complex. Something about it seemed familiar.

  “That seems harsh,” I said more to myself than to him.

  He wrung his hands before he dropped them into his lap. “The Council voted to strip my magic.” He shuddered slightly. “Being a Traiten is better than death. There’s an end to my sentence, even if I can never be a Guardian again.”

  “You’re a Guardian?” I was surprised, although given the size of him, I probably shouldn’t have been.

  His jaw flexed. “I was.”

  He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but my curiosity was burning. The whole Traiten thing made no sense. Uncomfortably aware he was at my mercy, I decided to change the subject.

  “What is that mark for?” I asked, pointing to the sigil I’d seen on his neck. Something about it kept tugging at my mind. It wasn’t like any of Silas’s magical tattoos.

  His jaw tightened, etching the lines around his mouth deeper. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  The mark glowed again.

  I pointed. “It just did it again!”

  He frowned, and I lowered my finger. A terrible idea occurred to me. Maybe he really couldn’t see the sigil, and I was, once again, giving away my unique abilities. I really needed to call it quits for the day and get some sleep. My brain might melt at any second. But I was stuck with this man, and I needed to figure out what to do with him. I didn’t want him to get in trouble.

  “My lady, may I serve you in some way?”

  I sighed and put my head in my hands again. “What’s your name? I refuse to call you Traiten every time I want to talk to you.”

  The damn marks around his wrists flared again. “I was called by Atticus.”

  “Atticus. Okay, that’s a start. I’m Maeve. I’d appreciate if you stopped calling me ‘my lady’ because I’m not. And I’ll do my best not to order you around while we’re stuck together.” I held out my hand. “Deal?”

  Slowly, he reached out and gripped my forearm with a solid hold that made the muscles in his forearm bulge.

  We were making progress.

  The door chimed, and Atticus jumped out of his chair as if it were on fire. He took one look at the man standing in the hall and bowed low at the waist.

  From the hallway, Tessa announced, “Lord Magister Alaric of House Certus for the Lady Maeve of House O’Neill.”

  My adrenaline kicked into overdrive yet again. I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with the Council again so soon. I wasn’t ready to show them what I could—or more accurately, couldn’t—do with the magic they so desperately wanted.

  Alaric entered the room without being invited, sweeping into the suite with his white robe billowing dramatically behind him. Atticus moved out of his way and melted into the background. Tessa slipped inside with a pinched look between her brows as she stared at Alaric’s back. The room suddenly seemed very
crowded.

  “My lady, may I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, Alaric swept the fabric from behind him, folded it over his arm, and lowered himself into the seat Atticus had just vacated.

  I grimaced and didn’t bother hiding it. I was too tired to deal with more political games. If he felt unwelcome, then he’d read my mood correctly.

  “I came to see if you’ve settled comfortably. I hope the accommodations are satisfactory.” He looked quickly at Atticus then smiled at me like a gracious host. So, he was the one who had assigned me a Traiten slave. And he thought I would be grateful to him for it.

  I frowned. I wasn’t buying the nice-guy act. He had pushed hard for the Transference, even knowing it might kill me. I folded my arms across my chest. “No matter how you dress it up, the door still locks on the outside.”

  His pleasant demeanor slipped a fraction. “You are a guest of the Council. I’d be happy to show you around the Council Centre myself if you would like.”

  “I think I’ve seen enough of the Council today.” It was probably too much to hope that he’d picked up on the double meaning behind my words.

  Tessa’s eyes widened, but Alaric didn’t even pause. “Perhaps you would like something to eat then,” he offered.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Traiten!” His loud command startled both Atticus and me. “Fetch the Lady some food from the central culina. By foot.”

  The sigils on Atticus’s wrists flared, and I ground my teeth. Atticus bowed behind Alaric’s back and left to fetch the food I didn’t want.

  “And you—Guardian. Surely you have someone to report to?”

  “No, my lord,” Tessa responded coolly. “I’ve been assigned to guard Lady Maeve.”

  Alaric gave her a long look. “Very well, you may wait outside.”

  “Lord Silas charged me with her safety. I—”

  “The lady is in no danger from me.” His tone implied a slight offense.

  Tessa opened her mouth.

  “Go tattle to Lord Silas if you must,” Alaric said. “Until then, Lady Maeve and I must have words in private.”

  “I’ll be just outside the door, my lady. Just raise your voice if you need anything.” Tessa bowed slightly before she slipped back outside and the door sealed behind her.

  “I’m afraid I may have been too harsh upon our first encounter, Lady Maeve.” He leaned forward in his chair, earnestness painted on his expression. “In truth, I’ve come to make amends.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Truly, I did not know the Fate had divined that the Transference would kill you. It’s an archaic spell that we have not practiced for many centuries. Upon further consideration, I realized that your only example of the implementation of the ritual has been... extreme. What the Brotherhood do is an abomination.” He folded his hands in his lap. “They use the Transference to drain life completely from their victims, which is why we banned the spell in the first place. It’s dangerous in the wrong hands. But it is possible to remove only a portion of someone’s magic.” He paused until I looked into his eyes. “I won’t lie and say it would be pleasant, but I’m confident we could remove the excess power from you. I merely want to find the best solution to your present situation.”

  “The best solution for the Council, you mean.”

  “For everyone,” he said with a sweep of his hand. “But we have agreed to forestall the Transference, thanks to the seating of our new Lord Commander.” He smiled. I didn’t know him very well, but his smile looked too tight around the edges. “I want to offer you an alternative.”

  “What alternative?”

  “If you are truly a descendent of the Lost Sect, then you possess the ability to absorb energy. There are rumors they could also transfer that energy to others.”

  My mind immediately went to the power I accidentally absorbed from Titus. Everything I’d done was out of my control. I couldn’t possibly make it happen again. On top of that, I’d never transferred the energy to someone else. I bit my lip. If I could learn to transfer out Marcel’s magic, then the Council wouldn’t have any reason to force the Transference.

  But I had no idea if the abilities I’d inherited from Marcel worked that way. And even if I were a descendent of the Lost Sect—I was an orphan after all, so I had to consider the possibility—I knew nothing about their abilities and had no one to teach me how to use them. I needed more information, but I definitely couldn’t trust Alaric with my questions.

  He leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Transfer the power, and the Council will have no reason to keep you against your will.”

  “And if I’m not a descendent of the Lost Sect? If it isn’t possible?”

  “If it were possible, I’m certain we could come to an arrangement that would allow you to return to your previous life.”

  He was attempting to bribe me with my freedom. And I was so, so tempted to try. But even if I could transfer the power, they would never let me go. If their reaction to my potential heritage was any clue, they would never give up someone who could get them more power.

  “And who are you lining up to accept the power?” I asked.

  “I would take that risk, my lady,” he said with a gracious bow of his head. “The power locked inside you is too valuable to lie idle. It must be put to the benefit of Aeterna.”

  That would also make him a very powerful magic user.

  The door chimed, and Tessa entered, carrying a gold platter loaded with food.

  Alaric frowned. “Where is the Traiten?”

  Tessa smiled sharply. “I sent him to Lord Valeron.”

  Alaric’s expression lost any pretense of pleasantness as Tessa set the tray on the table and moved to the back of the room. I shifted in my seat. Tessa really didn’t trust Alaric.

  Nothing on the platter seemed particularly edible. Brown cheese squares lay along one side, and there were colorful vegetables and tough-skinned fruits. I pretended to examine the assortment, thinking furiously.

  “I’ll think about your offer,” I said to Alaric when I couldn’t come up with anything better.

  He was quiet, waiting for me to say more. For once, I kept my mouth shut.

  “Then I bid you gods’ eve, my lady.”

  Tessa nodded solemnly at me and slipped out the door with him.

  When the door sealed behind them, I slumped onto the sofa. I had just enough time to think about dragging myself to the shower before the door pinged again and Atticus entered.

  I sighed and resigned myself to never being alone again. “You hungry?” I asked Atticus.

  His startled gaze drifted to the platter. “You want me to eat with you?”

  “If you’re hungry,” I said with deliberate care, “help yourself.”

  He sat down on the edge of the chair Alaric had just vacated. After a moment, he must have decided I was sincere and picked up a strange-looking root. He chewed on it as he stared at me.

  I rested my head on the back of the sofa and rubbed my eyes. My brain spun. I was exhausted and filthy. I just wanted a shower and a bed to sleep in for the next year.

  “You are unlike anyone I have ever met... Maeve.”

  I grinned when he used my name. And considering whom I was being compared to, I considered that a compliment.

  “You seem distressed,” Atticus said. “Can I assist in some way?”

  I paused before I turned him down out of habit. As a former Guardian and an Aeternal, he was my best source of information. He had to know more than I did. I sat up with renewed energy. “What do you know about the Lost Sect?”

  His eyes went round. “Are the rumors true?”

  “I don’t know. What are the rumors?”

  He swallowed the last of his root and eyed the platter again. I picked up something purplish and tapered like a carrot, hoping he would keep talking if I ate with him. I bit into it, expecting a crunch, but it was spongy and slightly bitter. Gross.

  Encouraged, Atticus bit into something roug
hly shaped like a potato. He downed the juicy flesh inside in two bites. “The Lost Sect were the original Harvesters,” he said, grabbing another potato fruit. “Today, anyone with a lick of harvesting talent is assigned to gather energy for the Citizen Source, mostly from the radiant energy of other realms, but they have only a fraction of the Lost Sect’s natural abilities. They were powerful. Aeterna lost centuries of learning and training, and our most powerful Harvesters, when the entire Sect defected. Without them, we cannot access power from Earth any longer. Over time, we have depleted our reserves of magic, leaving us with an energy crisis.”

  Silas had been concerned about the ports that were shut down. That must have been part of the rationing.

  “The rumors say the Lost Sect wanted the Council to stop taking power from Earth. They believed consistently drawing from the radiant energy of Mundanes stunted their natural development, but when the Council refused, they disappeared overnight, taking with them the ability to access the Earthen Source. No one has been able to track them down. Without their abilities, we’re all tied to the post.”

  I liked that he was straightforward with what information he knew. He wasn’t playing games like everyone else in this stupid realm. And there was a comforting calm around him that I really needed in my life right then. “What happened after that?”

  He popped two squares of the brown cheese into his mouth. “It’s been almost four decades, and no one has heard anything from them. They’re gone. Some say the Council found them all and killed them. Others believe they’re hiding within Earth. And now you’d be hard pressed to find any information on the original Harvesters. It’s like they were erased from our history. Lost.”

  If the Council thought I was a link to find the Lost Sect, and these original Harvesters really were as powerful as Atticus said, then the Council would need a lot of convincing to believe I wasn’t one of them. On one hand, I understood why Silas believed it, but I didn’t have a single ounce of my own magic before the botched Transference spell. If I were a descendent of those people, it was logical that I would have at least some magic of my own. I was one hundred percent Mundane without any natural magic abilities, and I liked it that way.