Sea Witch and the Magician

by Savage, Vivienne

  “Do you think two days in the dungeon cooled him off any?” Joren asked Muir in a low voice.

  “Doubtful. According to the guards, he threw himself against the bars so hard the first night that they had to restrain him before he cracked his own skull open.”

  “The man is clearly mad.”

  “Which is why I’m accompanying her to the dungeons,” Muir said. “Your hard-headed, stubborn sister insists on carrying out this sentence personally. But I don’t trust that monster…even with bars between us.”

  Rapunzel and Jules awaited them at the dungeon’s entrance. Muir offered her his arm and led the way through the stone corridors, with Captain Olivier and Joren trailing behind them. Two guards stood at every junction, an extra precaution due to the aggressive nature of their prisoner. A final pair stood post directly outside Leon’s cell.

  “Please leave us,” Rapunzel directed the armed men.

  They bowed and took positions farther down the hall. Then Rapunzel released her husband’s arm and moved closer to the bars, summoning a glowing orb to cast better light within the cell. Leon sat in the middle of the floor, each wrist shackled to a long chain. He looked up but didn’t deign to stand, even for royalty.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” Rapunzel asked.

  “They brought me here,” he replied, tipping his head in the direction the guards had gone.

  Joren sucked in a short, quiet breath, his gaze slanting toward his sister. She had a frown on her face he recognized. It was the frown that told him she was struggling with behaving as a lady should.

  “You are here because you’ve left a trail of bodies across the city.”

  “I left six corpses in dark corners. Hardly a trail, Your Majesty,” he spat the words as if they disgusted him, “but I wouldn’t expect a woman to know the difference.”

  While his sister kept her serene expression, Muir’s chest puffed out, and the king straightened three inches taller—a feat Joren had yet to figure out when the griffin hadn’t been slouching to begin with. If looks could kill, Leon would have imploded into a pile of crimson jelly and bone.

  “Why do it?” she asked, ignoring his insubordinate behavior.

  “Why does one do anything? I wished to.” Leon leapt to his feet in a sudden movement that set Muir on the defensive. Joren drew his sister behind him, and Muir stepped before them both, murder in his tense expression. Jules closed one hand over his sword hilt, but Leon only cackled and jangled the chains secured to the floor. “Scared of me, are they?”

  “I’m not.” Rapunzel shook off Joren’s hand and raised her chin. “Now tell me the truth about those women. Why kill them? There has to more than what you’ve said.”

  “They served a purpose. Nothing you’d ever need, blessed as you are with your magic.”

  Joren stepped up beside his sister. “Is that what this was all about? Some sort of blood magic?”

  Leon gave him the briefest of glances, favoring Rapunzel with his attention. “You understand, don’t you? You know what it is like to have your power locked away. To be a prisoner.”

  Aside from clenching a fist against her voluminous skirt, Rapunzel retained her composure. “You don’t have magic. In fact, the College of Arthras deemed you to have negligible talent when you applied to study with them,” she replied in an even voice. “I know this, as my brother and I spoke with the headmaster only yesterday. He recalled your case. They determined your power insufficient and unworthy of the school’s annual scholarship.”

  Leon spat. “Those dusty old fools aren’t the only ones who can teach the arts.”

  “Is that how you learned to maneuver around magic?” Joren asked. “Somewhere else? Where did you learn?”

  He smirked. “From shadows on a floating island.”

  “His Highness asked you a question, worm. Mind your tongue and answer truthfully,” Jules warned.

  The smug look on Leon’s face melted into a sneer, and he lunged at the guardsman, stopped by the chains securing him in place. “Worm? Don’t you speak to me, you worthless pissbucket. You wouldn’t understand children’s spellcraft. You don’t see the power in blood, the potential it can unlock.”

  Fury boiled through Joren’s veins. The man lacked any remorse, certain to repeat his crimes if set free upon Eisland again, whether it was years or decades down the road. Nothing but insanity lurked behind Leon’s wild eyes, insanity wrapped in human skin. When Rapunzel met his gaze, Joren knew she saw it too.

  “Leon Faucheux, for your crimes—for the many lives you mercilessly took—your life is forfeit. Make peace with the gods tonight. Tomorrow at noon, before the whole city, you will die.”

  * * *

  Eisland treated executions as a solemn occasion, regardless of the transgressions committed by the accused. Had he not seen Rosalyn in the crowd as a tearful, red-eyed spectator, Joren might have taken a tiny ounce of pleasure in seeing such a villain brought to justice.

  But he could not. The man had been half-mad, raving like a lunatic after endangering his own sister. Death had been the best thing for the poor bastard, Leon’s hanging the first execution in three years since Rapunzel retook the kingdom and ordered the deaths of a dozen or so nobles most loyal to Queen Gothel.

  Afterward, he joined his sister in the gardens overlooking the city below. The little green frostkiss buds had already pushed through the snow, but the rapunzel flowers for which she’d been named were evergreen and always blossoming.

  “We took a dangerous criminal off the streets, brother.”

  “We did.”

  “So why do I feel so unsettled?” she asked when he took a place beside her at the rail.

  “I don’t know, maybe because he ranted about mages on a floating island. Insanity, if you ask me.”

  “But what if it were true? There’s a vast world out there unexplored beyond the Viridian Sea. That isn’t the first rumor I’ve heard of a floating magical island in the west.” She rubbed her face, looking tired and unwell.

  “Honestly, the idea is too terrifying to believe. Yes, we’ve seen magic do amazing things, but a floating city?”

  “Why should a floating city be any less plausible than a man who becomes a dragon, a tear from the sky goddess, or a black mirror able to enslave an entire kingdom?”

  “True. Well then, let us hope we have no cause to meet any further mages from the west. We have enough to deal with here.”

  She glanced over to him. “In a fortnight, you’ll be ready to set sail. I’ve started moving provisions onboard.”

  “Excellent. Creag Morden stands by, waiting to assist us. Our Marines are also prepared and waiting to ship out on my order.” Aside from Gothel’s coup and brief civil war, Eisland hadn’t seen war in centuries, not since gaining their independence from the Ridaeron Dynasty. “What surprises me is that they’ve been so silent. Not even a diplomatic ambassador, a letter of acknowledgment, or a taunt that they’ve bested us. Has it been truly silent all this time?”

  “Not a word. I tried to send a message, demanding the return of our people, but who knows if it ever arrived.” She sighed, shoulders slumping beneath an invisible weight. “It seems we only just finished a war and now we’ll be in another. The Collegium has agreed to lend us aid and will be sending over a few mages to supplement our kingdom’s defenses. Several more will set sail with you. I expect their arrival any day now.”

  “At what price?” Joren raised a brow. He’d never known the Collegium of Arthras to take sides. As its own sovereign state, it remained a neutral party in all conflicts between the nations—after all, its students came from every kingdom in the gulf, save the Ridaeron Dynasty.

  “No fee,” Rapunzel murmured. “Ridaeron has…a growing hatred of sorcery that threatens not only our way of life but theirs as well.”

  “Damn.” But it made him feel better knowing Eisland wouldn’t be left undefended.

  “What will you do with your last days of quiet?”

  “I’m not su
re yet, but I think I’d like to get away for a few days, at the very least.”

  She narrowed her eyes shrewdly and asked, “Alone?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve grown quite close to Coral, haven’t you?”

  “I enjoy her company.” Grandmother’s ring was burning a figurative hole in his pocket. But the moment he mentioned a word of his intentions to Rapunzel, she’d never keep a straight face. His sister was a poor actress, always the one to get them into trouble as children.

  “It’s more than that, and you know it. I only ask that you think things through, brother, because while I think her a lovely spirit as well, we still know nothing about her or her intentions in stowing aboard James’s ship.” She laid her cheek against his shoulder. “You know me. I don’t want to see you hurt is all.”

  “She’s certainly an enigma,” he agreed. “But her motives seem pure. She cared for me while I was at my weakest, Rapunzel, and then she risked her life for Margaux. Whatever her intentions, we’ll certainly never know them unless she writes us a letter…” Reading and writing. Something clicked in his mind that he hadn’t realized before. He’d never heard of any islanders reading their Eislandic texts, but he’d seen Coral with books on multiple occasions while relaxing in her room. “She reads our language.”

  “What?” Rapunzel raised her head. “That’s odd, wouldn’t you say? I mean, I know James mentioned teaching a few how to speak our language, but reading? That’s not so easily learned.”

  “Indeed,” he murmured. “Tiger Lily speaks and writes Eislandic, but she’s also their leader.”

  “Quite a mystery, wouldn’t you say?” Rapunzel suggested, a dubious furrow between her fair brows.

  He glanced down at his twin, aware of the suspicion in her voice. “Perhaps writing came to her with ease to make up for her loss of speech. I wish I’d realized. Gods, the conversations we could have had by now.”

  “Don’t give me that look. While I do find it odd, it’s also possible her reading and writing aren’t as advanced as her understanding of the spoken tongue.”

  “Just the same, it bears enquiry.”

  “It does,” she agreed. “Will you be making this enquiry with or without Grandmother’s ring?”

  Blast. She knew him too well. He dropped his head forward and squeezed her. “Am I that transparent?”

  “I’m the queen, which means I’m informed when anyone enters the vault. Even you.”

  He grunted. “It isn’t as if you’re wearing it.”

  “Of course I’m not, it was always meant for you to give to your bride. I simply didn’t expect, well…this.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet, if it eases your worries any.” He watched the boats in the distance at the harbor, knowing soon he’d be one of many pulling from port. “We’re from two different worlds. And her people don’t even wear rings. Muir suggested having it reworked into a choker, and I’m dragging my bloody feet.”

  “You’re telling me Muir knew about this? Before me?” She straightened in mock indignation. “I’m hurt, Joren. Truly.”

  Joren grinned. “Muir knows how to keep a secret.”

  Her scowl deepened. “You’re an ass. I can keep a secret better than—” She stopped herself and sighed. “No, I can’t.”

  “You truly can’t. In all things but gender and your propensity for running your mouth, we’re quite identical.” But he loved her just the same, and he squeezed her tight. “Listen, sister, if you think I should reconsider, I’ll take your advice into account. What should I do?”

  “I can’t tell you that. Look at me.”

  He sighed as she leaned back to cup his face between her palms. “Yes?”

  “I didn’t want to marry Muir, but you arranged a marriage between us to rescue me. In the end, it turned out to be real and good, not simply a necessity. But we also knew more about Muir. We knew where he’d come from and what his intentions were in helping us. All I ask is that…you make sure what you feel is real, and that she feels the same.”

  “You’re welcome, by the way. I’m quite pleased to know Muir has been my greatest gift to you.” But he sobered at the end and nodded.

  “I may be a terrible liar, but you’re impulsive. All I ask is that you don’t do anything you’ll later regret.”

  “I know. I know. Father always said the same before…” Before Gothel took their king and turned him into her puppet, a fleshy shell to house her consciousness for ruling the kingdom. He swallowed the thickening knot in his throat. “All right. I’ll take this holiday with her to determine where my heart truly lies. Will you help me plan a romantic getaway?”

  Her eyes sparkled brightly. “I actually think I have the perfect idea.”

  Chapter 15

  Of all the luxuries Caecilia experienced since her arrival in Eisland, she’d decided bath time had become her favorite. Machines pumped water through pipes, much like the beautiful claw-foot tub on the Jolly Roger. The maids tidied after her and stocked the extravagant bathroom with an array of products, from perfumes and oils to salts, on the adjacent shelf. They even lined the tub rim with scented candles.

  For the fun of it, she used a different fizzy bath sphere each evening, thrilled to awaken in the morning still smelling like roses, rapunzel flowers, or whatever delight the bath salt was designed to mimic.

  Elongating her body in a languorous stretch, Caecilia flipped her pillow to the cooler side and tried to sleep a few minutes more. Her personal chambermaid, a young woman named Allese, liked to spritz the bedcovers with a subtle dose of lavender water upon tidying the room. Caecilia found she didn’t mind it, the smell as refreshing as the mint-kissed winter breeze that wafted through the balcony doors whenever she opened them.

  She would miss this when the dream ended, when it was time to return to her grotto to rot and become a handful of suds lapping against the algae-slimed rocks. Joren falling in love with her over the course of three moon cycles had been nothing more than a hopeless fantasy.

  Fabric rustled to her left, dragging Caecilia from the boundaries of sleep for a second time. She raised her head from the pillow.

  “Good morning, Miss Coral,” Allese whispered from the open threshold between the bedroom and bath. She held a light orb in her hand, dimmed to emit a subtle glow. “I was just about to awaken you. Your clothes are already prepared and Prince Joren is waiting.”

  Oh. But then she squinted at the dark windows and black skies beyond them.

  Unable to question the hour, she slipped from bed and padded barefoot into the restroom where she spent the next few minutes jolting herself awake with cold water and freshening her breath. Afterward, she joined Allese at the changing station where a pile of ugly, plain clothes awaited her. Caecilia peered down at the simple blouse, thick woolen socks, and dark brown trousers.

  Upon turning her questioning gaze to the maid, the young girl only giggled. “Prince Joren asked that I dress you in something, ah, comfortable and practical today. He has a surprise for you.”

  Her expression must have said it all. Allese tittered again. “I’m not permitted to say, but you’re going to love it, Miss Coral.”

  Caecilia put on what she hoped was an entreating look, placing both of her hands together in a silent entreaty.

  “Oh no. I can’t betray Prince Joren’s trust.” Her dark eyes glittered. “You’ll love it. He’s going to make you so happy!”

  How happy could he make her while she wore a frumpy shirt tucked into a set of oversized pants? The belt wasn’t much better, as someone had hastily added a few additional holes to the leather strip with a knife, making them all ragged slits.

  Her fur-lined snow boots followed, spacious enough for her to tuck in the excess trouser hem. They’d been made for someone with much longer legs, but they weren’t old, simply too big for her petite frame.

  After smiling her gratitude to Allese for lacing a half-corset beneath her blouse, Caecilia left the bedchamber and wound her way toward Icedale
Castle’s main wing.

  Joren waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, dressed similarly in a cream shirt under an old wool coat and chocolate brown trousers tucked into black knee boots. Nothing about him looked princely, aside from his otherworldly handsomeness.

  “There you are,” he murmured, eyes glittering beneath the muted beams of lantern light slanting through the main hall’s arched windows. The palace had dozens of those outside, shining brightly throughout the night in common areas. He took her hand when she reached the bottom of the steps. “I wondered if you would come or if the early hour would deter you.”

  She gestured to her clothing, then swept her hand toward him from top to bottom.

  “There’s a reason for this, trust me. I noticed how fond you’ve grown of your new wardrobe and would hate for you to ruin anything nice where we are going.” At her arched brow, he added, “It’s a surprise. However, if you should find yourself…disinterested, we won’t have to do it.”

  Do it? Do what? A dozen mysteries danced at the edge of her imagination.

  Unable to answer, she looped both arms around his broad shoulders and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger over the fine ghost of golden stubble on his jaw. Something about the sensation and the masculine scent of him appealed to her after pining the past weeks for him since their kiss in the city square.

  The tightly wound ribbon of tension snapped, and his spine relaxed. He stepped into her, arms around her waist, and held her for a time longer while she reveled in the warmth his body provided.

  “Shall we then?” His breath skimmed her ear, stirring the shorter wisps of hair that didn’t reach her braid. “I promise you can hug me as long and as often as you like when we reach our destination. Or more.”

  Heat surged to her cheeks. In Joren’s husky voice, it didn’t sound like a promise; it was an offer.

  One Caecilia intended to collect.