by R. K. Thorne
She would win them over with what she did. And if that involved slicing herself open just so she could heal up the wound, so be it.
Eventually, they’d detailed much of their plans, and the conversation drifted to other topics, such as how magical skills were taught in Mage Hall. Miara had expected that comparing notes with them would reveal very different spells and strategies, but in fact they used mostly the same techniques. After a few generations of practicing in isolation, she would have thought the spells would have diverged and evolved more, but apparently not.
Wine-poached pears appeared to signify that the meal was nearly over. The tangy, sweet, cinnamony smell overtook the room. Oh, by the gods, what a beautiful dish. She had marveled at how well appointed Estun was, and how comfortable, and clean… A lot of these things felt like luxuries, like things she didn’t deserve, to the point of discomfort. She doubted she would ever feel comfortable with a servant waiting on her… But this. This she could get used to. This was bliss. She took a huge bite.
“Still hungry, huh?”
Mouth too full, she glanced up and saw Aven standing before them. Oh, wasn’t that great timing.
“After all this? How are you all faring this evening?”
Wunik saved her from having to speak. “Most excellent, my lord. I’m just draining your mage here of what knowledge I can glean of Kavanarian advances in magic. I think she’s started taking overzealous bites to save herself from my incessant questions.”
Your mage? What did Wunik know about them? The slightest shift in Derk’s posture told her he had noticed the turn of phrase too.
Aven leaned forward, the knuckles of his fists on the table. “This dinner is going to go on for hours. Are you two ready to retire soon?”
“Now would be excellent. I thought you’d never ask.” Wunik began folding his napkin as if he couldn’t stand to wait a moment longer.
“What about us?” Derk said with an indignant frown.
“I’m sure you’re both quite tired and wish to get some rest after our journey. You can join us tomorrow,” said Wunik in the voice of a teacher who was not about to bargain. Derk grumbled and took a bite, turning away to Siliana, who only seemed to care because now she had to deal with Derk alone.
Aven and Wunik were staring at her, she realized. Miara nodded vigorously and tried to wash the rest of the pear down with a swallow of wine.
“You two finish up and head just outside the hall, and I’ll meet you out there?” Aven looked relieved. Why should he look relieved?
Wunik nodded. She mimicked him. Aven swept back to the head table with a majestic flourish of his cloak. It was damn cold in here. She needed to add a cloak or something tomorrow. Perhaps where they were going would be warmer.
She caught herself staring after him and tore her eyes away. How strange to see someone she felt she knew so well—or at least was beginning to—in such a new light. He had always been chivalrous, polite, and rather dashing. But nothing like a crown and the trappings of royalty to reinforce that this was a man who would someday be a king. She had thought she’d seen it in that commanding voice and strong jaw, but it had been only a glimpse of the reality. His eventual power was not something she’d fully understood. She knew Aven the man, but she was catching many more glimpses now of Aven the prince. Aven the king.
She bit off another dreamily delicious hunk of pear and chewed thoughtfully.
Even before they’d hunted down any dinner, Jaena dragged Kae around from the bathhouse to the weapons hall, hoping to find Menaha. As if to mock their grumbling bellies, they finally found her in the dining hall. It was full-on dark by then. They’d endured the compulsory evening prayers just outside, and by now they were starving. They heaped cold bacon, cheese, and turnips onto a trencher and joined her. Another senior warrior mage Jaena did not know ate with her.
“I didn’t expect to run into you two here.” Menaha’s smile was sweet, but she clearly knew they wanted something. “How are your lessons going?”
Kae rattled on excitedly for a few minutes. Menaha was an air mage like him, so he could explain the various offensive techniques he had mastered. It was not nearly so exciting to explain that she’d mastered not getting knocked on her ass. But no matter. The other woman finished eating, said goodbye, and left them as he detailed every bit of his recent training. Kae rather adored Menaha in his own way, and she nodded and smiled and gave him a few tips.
When the other mage left, though, he slowed his tale and gave Jaena a long look. Ah, so he hadn’t forgotten the purpose of their visit amidst his rambling. He’d simply seized the opportunity to bore the other mage to tears. Now he wanted her to take the lead.
Jaena cleared her throat. “Menaha, we heard a rumor.”
The older woman raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her seat. “Is that so? Care to share?”
“Are you the gossiping type?” Jaena asked. She hoped the leading tone to her voice would convey that she meant more than what she was saying.
“I am. At times.”
Jaena nodded to Kae, as she’d felt him staring at her, hoping to chime in. “We heard some mages escaped,” he said, quick and low. He glanced around, looking highly suspicious. Hell, no one would ever suspect him of being a spy. Or would suggest such a thing either. “Or, one mage, at least.”
Menaha raised both eyebrows now. “That is quite the rumor.”
“Do you know if it’s true?” said Jaena quickly. “Or where we could find out?”
Menaha surveyed the room around them much more naturally than Kae, but only chatty mages sat on all sides, busy with their own conversations. Then she leaned forward, both elbows on the table beneath folded arms, and spoke in a low voice. “I know of a mage who has disappeared.”
Jaena glanced at Kae, then back at Menaha. The hope in her chest threatened to swell and envelop her—did she dare let it? “Who?”
“The mage Miara.”
“The healer?”
“And the spy. When she returned from her last mission, I saw her in the bathhouse.”
“And?”
“The brand on her shoulder looked like it was healing.”
“Healing!” Kae exclaimed. The two women silenced him with simultaneous glares.
Menaha nodded. “I haven’t seen her since. I went to her rooms, and guards stand at the doors. Her father and sister have not returned to their jobs, nor has she. I do believe at least Pytor—her father—is still in the apartment but under guard for some reason.”
“How?” Jaena breathed. “How is it possible?”
“I don’t know. I wish I had asked her more. But it must have had something to do with her last mission. She had not been working in the stables. She’d just returned and was off duty for a few days.”
Jaena nodded, thoughtful. That wouldn’t really help her; few likely knew the nature of the mission. Dekana had never wanted to share the details, and Jaena hadn’t been sure she’d been allowed to. Those who did know the details of Miara’s mission, like the Masters, would not want to tell her.
“Let me know what you find out,” Menaha said with a smile. Then she rose. “Good to hear about your studies, Kae. Keep up the hard work.” And then she turned and headed out.
Jaena almost called after her, longing to think of one more question to help them unearth the truth. But barely after she’d left, two guards strolled down the aisle beside them, surveying the mages as they ate.
Odd. The guards did not normally stalk around the eating areas like this. They were usually dozing outside. Perhaps their approach was what had moved Menaha to action.
She studied the guards more closely. “New daggers—do you see?” She pointed at the nearest guard as he ambled by. Kae glanced up, trying to look casual and failing. He nodded, subtle as an excited puppy. “Something is going on,” she whispered.
“Yeah. But how do we get in on it?”
Miara and Wunik waited outside. The stone foyer encased them in intricate, delicate geometric car
vings as the halls spread out in three directions from where they stood. Elegant archways soared up to ceiling seals that held all manner of orderly, symmetrical patterns and designs. Wunik just fidgeted and watched the door.
Aven finally appeared around a corner, striding toward them alone. She heaved a sigh of relief. Had she been holding her breath?
He trotted up to them and took her by the hand, smiling and raising it to his lips with a kiss.
“Aven—” she started, glancing at Wunik.
“It’s all right, he knows,” Aven said.
“What? How?” she said.
“My mother consulted him about a way to free you.”
“I wasn’t very helpful,” Wunik added. The old man grinned.
“Your mother—when?”
“You were still knocked out at the nomad camp,” said Aven.
Gods, she had thought he was a fool for not running, but she’d had no idea how far his foolery—devotion?—went. His mother probably hated her. She’d tried to free her son, but instead, he’d gone off on some noble mission to free a woman who could do him nothing but harm. A miracle the queen had even been civil.
He grunted in irritation and relinquished her hand with a squeeze. “This way.” Aven led them up the stairs, Wunik trailing.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“The balcony.” Where it all had started. Where they’d first met. “I should like to see you there without a dagger involved.” He gave her a grin.
She snorted. “I thought maybe it was the dagger you were attracted to.”
“Hmm. We should test both ways and find out. We also need starlight, if we’re going to free anyone.”
“Now? Already?”
“Why wait?” Aven said. “Night’s fallen.”
“You don’t want to rest first?”
Aven waved off the idea. “I know you are worried about them.”
She ducked her chin, feeling like he’d seen right through her. She hadn’t said as much, but it was true.
“We’ll start with your family, of course, if we can find them,” Wunik added. She looked from Aven to Wunik and back again. They were both deadly serious about this. Well, just as well. They were the air mages. She was just along to point directions. “Let me get my tools. Is it just up this way? All right, I’ll meet you two there. And perhaps some heavy cloaks?”
Something about his tone of voice said that he didn’t really need the tools. From the expression on Aven’s face, he both wanted to keep Wunik with them and send the man away.
A spiral stair greeted them, and after circling up many flights, Aven strode down a dark hall lined with torches until they reached a heavy wooden door.
“I hadn’t realized this door was wood. Would have been easier to get inside than I had expected,” she said as he heaved up the crossbar.
“Well, it is a heavy crossbar. But that’s a good point. Any creature mage could get to this balcony easily. This door should at the very least be guarded, if not made of iron and better locked. Wait—your plan was to come inside?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a good plan. I had no other ideas. Estun is pretty impenetrable, and you were my first kidnapping, after all. “
“And your last, I hope,” he said, the glint in his eye casting a double meaning to the words. “I’ve seen the effect you have on your captives. Driving people to risk their lives, fits of madness and devotion.”
“Don’t worry, not everyone is as crazy as you.”
He heaved the door open, and she sauntered out. She hardly remembered the tiny balcony, she’d been so focused on him at the time. It was barely beyond sunset, but already some stars were visible.
He left the door open behind them. Although he hadn’t explicitly stated it, she had the impression that they weren’t really supposed to be alone together. That made a certain sense, since all sorts of allegations could be made when it was just one voice against another.
And yet—now they were alone. He stood farther from her than usual. Because he was supposed to, or because of all his talk with attractive and elegant suitors? Perhaps he was seeing the error of his ways already.
“How’s that Code of yours doing?” she said. Maybe she could invite him to explain why he was standing farther from her than he had since… possibly before she had kidnapped him.
He smiled sheepishly. “Rigid and uncompromising as always.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Rigid, eh?”
He snorted and shifted his weight. Well, this wasn’t how she’d expected to spend actual alone time here with him.
“Did you find much entertainment in your dinner companion?” Did her words have an edge to them, or did she imagine it?
He blinked. “What?”
She didn’t want to repeat that. Now it seemed petty, maybe a little weak. “You’re—we—” Where was she going with this? “I wish I could have sat by you at dinner.” There, he liked the straightforward route, and so did she, although it could be tough to spit out.
Understanding came over his face, and he strode to her now finally, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, Miara, it’s just for now. Don’t let it—” But he stopped. His frown said he disliked it too.
“It’s fine. I understand. Really, I do.”
“No, I’m so sorry about all this. My father can be slow to trust people. It’s bullheaded.”
“Not a bad trait in a king, really.”
“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about from Renala. It won’t be long, and you’ll be sitting right with me, I promise.” Relief did wash over her at that. He glanced at the doorway.
“Are we not supposed to be out here like this? Are you not supposed to be alone with women?”
“Part of the Code.” He shrugged. “It seemed foolish to abide by it on the road after all we’d been through. But here, people care about it. For a royal heir, being alone with women can create tough situations, ones that can be used against you. I mean, obviously that changes when you marry them, of course.”
Them. She supposed it would have been odd to be discussing marriage between them in particular at a moment like this, but… the topic hung in the air. And the lovely, golden-haired dvora hung in her mind.
“But I want to marry you,” he said, suddenly seeming to realize that that might be unclear. “So, it’s—I don’t know—”
She glanced at the doorway. No sound from the stairs yet. Pushing herself up on tiptoe, she pressed a soft kiss against his lips, and he rumbled deep in his throat as he leaned into it. Into her.
Sure, he wanted her. At least he thought he did, for the moment, and the caress of his tongue against hers was convincing. He claimed he didn’t want to hide their love, but wasn’t this arrangement far more convenient for him as well? No awkward questions, no extra pressure on top of an already dire situation. What if, on some level, he sensed all she lacked as a potential monarch, and that was the true reason he’d agreed to all this? A terrible thought, but she could not deny the possibility. Perhaps he had regrets, or he knew deep down she was a poor choice and hoped this month would test her, would show her true mettle. Would allow him to distance himself if she failed, as she inevitably would.
And all this could be simple infatuation, a temporary obsession forged by the intensity of their journey together. When he started to notice each way she came up short, all he required that she did not have, would kisses such as these fade slowly into moonlit memory?
She could only hope he wouldn’t. And kiss him while she could, damn it.
In spite of the open door, Wunik knocked moments later. She quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and caught herself straightening her tunic. Wunik marched in, arms full of tools and cloaks, his eyes wisely trained up at the sky and pretending like he had no idea what had been going on. Had he had a wife who’d passed? He did not seem unaware of the ways of lovers.
He handed her a cloak. Funny, the cold hadn’t been bothering her until Aven had hastily stepped away.
Things had been quite warm a moment ago.
Wunik sat on a bench and took a wooden bowl from the bag he’d brought with him. So he did indeed have tools. He also took out a skin of water and filled the bowl. “Watch carefully, Aven. You’ll try this next,” he said, beckoning them toward where he sat.
“Water, Wunik? That’s different. My colleagues just used their arms or the open air to frame the spell.”
“Just a little something I do, not a normal Akarian practice. Most of the admittedly few mages I know who can do this use the air too. But I find something about the physical conduit seems to require less energy.”
Interesting. Aven joined Wunik on the bench. Miara felt too anxious to sit. And the air froze her to the bone, in spite of the heavy, black, fur-lined cloak. She pulled it tighter around her and paced back and forth instead as Wunik described the farseeing spell.
“The learning will take time and much practice. You won’t get it right away, but don’t worry about that. Useful, intense spells such as these don’t come without practice.” Wunik plucked a red rose petal from a nearby bush and dropped it into the water.
“Do you need that?” Miara asked.
“What? Oh, the petal, no. Just an offering to Anara. Nothing magical about that part.”
More interesting bits all the time from this clever mage. A pious mage? The only religious mages she had ever known were the self-hating sheep of Brother Lithan’s circle. Even Brother Sefim focused more on the Balance and walking the Way than he did on the deities themselves. He was of course still a priest of Nefrana, but he never spoke about the goddess. If she and Aven could free him, what changes might he make? She had never met any priests of Anara or Mastikos—did they denounce mages too?
Wunik differed from the mages she had known. Was this what a freemage was like? Excited for adventure, bored but still happy, someone who had known love? She had thought that all mages were by necessity depressed, stifled, exploited. But every time Wunik opened his mouth, he showed her another side of who her people could be.
