by R. K. Thorne
They pulled down their hoods to hear more as the rain stopped. She listened keenly as they rode, quick to turn toward any sound from the fields. He thought he heard shouts in the distance but didn’t hear anyone following them.
Eventually the clouds did part just a little, letting a slight bit of moonlight past. Enough to see their way. Not enough to make traveling at night the best idea, which was just as well. Nefrana’s hand, he thought, guiding us away from this evil place.
The swaying of the horse lulled them, and despite her claims, she did not resume questioning him. The night felt too silent. Could she tell if they were heading in the right direction?
“You’re still certain we should head to Anonil?” he whispered, his lips accidentally brushing her ear.
“Yes. We should be able to find help there.” He wanted to press her to explain more. But perhaps it was better not to give away their destination with idle chatter anyway.
She was nodding off a bit. Good. At least one of them should rest. Her head finally came to settle on his shoulder, her forehead pressed to his neck and puffs of breath warming his chest, a sense of relief washing through him.
Rest, my unfortunate one. We are on our way out of here.
The sun had set as Miara stared out her window at the snowy peaks. A knock sounded at the door. Again, the damn guard opened it without acknowledgment—or even a nominal amount of caution. Certainly some caution was warranted at this point. Although her heart leapt that it might be Aven, she had a feeling that it wouldn’t be.
And it wasn’t. Instead, King Samul stood before her, waiting as she pulled on a night robe against the serious cold of Estun at night and marched into the sitting room.
“My lord,” she said, bowing. He gave her a curt nod. His temples and jaw seemed tense under his dark beard.
“Good evening, Miara. I came to speak to you about the attack.”
“Of course, my lord. Would you like to sit down?”
He remained standing. “Where were you when the attack took place?”
“What? I was with the queen, exhausted from the demonstration before the attack.”
“She says she briefly left you with the group of mages to tend to one of the injured gate guards.”
“Briefly, yes. I waited there. I was with them. Why don’t you ask them?”
“Unfortunately, their memories are a bit foggy in light of the chaos from the cave-in and being overexerted themselves.”
She frowned. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am deadly serious.”
“I would never hurt Aven. I—” She glanced around uncomfortably at the guards. She couldn’t say more while they listened without disobeying him at the same time. “You know why I wouldn’t.”
“Do I?” The king inclined his head, his fingers stroking his beard thoughtfully. What an odd response. And come to think of it, why was the king here himself, with no one else even accompanying him? Where was Aven?
Could this be another trick, maybe even one of the assassins in disguise?
Audacious as it seemed at the moment, she dipped into his thoughts. She went as quickly, as briefly as she could and hoped he wouldn’t notice. Untrained, he shouldn’t, but he did have a creature mage for a wife. Certainly that could have come in handy in their years as rulers. Whether he could tell or not, she had to ensure he was indeed King Samul before she said another word.
An image of Aven approaching in a room she didn’t recognize flashed through her mind, his arm soaked with blood. A memory of pain and fear shot through her veins, then filled her with anger, then rage. No. Not her veins, not her rage—Samul’s, and the pain that of a parent seeing a child injured, nearly killed.
She reeled back as quickly as she could. It was… definitely him. His brow slowly furrowed deeper, the touch of suspicion growing in his eyes. She had a feeling she had not been as stealthy as she might have hoped.
“I don’t know what to say. I was with the queen for all but a moment. Aven trusts me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Aven has many great qualities, and finding the good in people is one of them. But every strength has its opposite, its weakness.”
“And what is that?” she demanded.
“Not seeing the bad in people,” he replied.
“And what bad do you see in me?”
He frowned. “I don’t see much of anything past that wall you put up. You are hard to read. As a spy should be.”
“I’m a spy no longer.”
“But you’ve been one your whole life.”
“I stole things. I eavesdropped. Against my will, mind you. Do you really think I attacked him?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“If I wanted to kill him, I’ve had ample opportunity. I wouldn’t have come back here. I could have killed him on the road. Or left him in Kavanar, for that matter.”
“Aven believes he freed you from your enchantment. But I just wonder, what if your orders have only changed?”
She recoiled, her jaw dropping. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Gods. She couldn’t blame him, such a thing could certainly have been possible. Thank the gods the Masters hadn’t thought of it and that she’d been free by the time they returned.
“I swear to you they haven’t. But there’s no way I can convince you of that.”
“You’re right, there isn’t.”
She waited, unsure of how to proceed.
“I won’t bring this up with Aven until the dust settles on the rest of this. If the Assembly won’t accept his magic, then we’ll have a whole host of other problems, but you and he might not be one of them, unless of course your enchantment is truly unbroken. But I don’t want that—or you—distracting him right now.”
“They will support him, won’t they? Do you truly think they won’t accept him?”
“I think that he has a much better chance with you out of the situation.”
She flinched. She had once sneered at Aven’s comment that his magic was inconvenient. While he’d never been enslaved for it, he also hadn’t had it as easy as she’d thought. “What do you mean… out of the situation?”
“We walk a blade’s edge. The stability of the nation rides on this vote. You do understand that, don’t you?”
She nodded, a little bitter that he might think she wouldn’t.
“You complicate the process. It’s hard enough to get them to accept a mage as it is; we risk civil war if you—an enemy spy and a mage—are at his side.” A jolt of fear shot through her. “You will remain in your quarters, and he will not visit, until we leave for Panar.”
Miara balked. “But—no—my lord—”
“We leave tomorrow. After that, you are free to roam Estun as you wish until we return.”
“You mean—I’m not coming with you?”
He blinked, probably at the panic in her voice, but his face hardened further.
“Please, you’ve got to take me.” She fumbled for a reason. Because she’d been wrongly accused? Because she could help keep him safe? Because she dreaded being away from Aven for that long, not knowing if he was safe or what had happened? Those weren’t real reasons to give a king. “I can—”
“No. Aven has spent his whole life preparing to be king. I will not have it stolen away by a woman he’s known for barely a fortnight.”
She flinched again at those words. “It’s been almost a month,” she muttered.
He turned to leave.
“I thought this was a kingdom of laws,” she said to his back, some strength returning. Or perhaps that feeling was despair. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You—or a woman who looked exactly like you—attempted to murder the heir to the throne of this realm, in multiple ways, in front of multiple witnesses. We do have a law against murder, I’m afraid, and assassination in particular.”
“Wait—I can’t even say goodbye?”
“No. This has gone on long enough. This is where I draw the line
.” Then he stalked away, and the door shut behind him.
She stared at the polished oak of the door. She could not let Aven go to Panar alone. Hard to believe that the king and his lords did not see through this ruse, that they might actually believe it had been her, in spite of what the queen or any of the others might say. Being fooled by this trick showed how unprepared they were to deal with the threat of magic of any kind, let alone a mage army.
If the Akarians went to Panar without her, what mages would they bring? Just Queen Elise? Would they take Wunik? Even two or three of them could not be everywhere at every time, not to mention that neither of them was familiar with using magic for war.
She gritted her teeth. She should be at Aven’s side. Now her moments of self-doubt about being a queen seemed foolish, juvenile. She had the skills, the knowledge, the temperament to help him better than anyone they knew. She was better suited to help him through all of this than most, and her loyalty to him was unmatched. He’d known that all along, but she hadn’t known herself as clearly.
She sighed. Of course, when she thought becoming queen was a certainty to be feared, she’d questioned if she were up to it, if she would be happy. Now that the crown seemed more distant than ever, a fierce need rose in her. She might not be a charmer or an elegant diplomat, but she could stand by Aven’s side and glower while he took care of those things.
But if Samul didn’t let her be in the same city as his son, that was not going to happen.
No matter. Samul had told her when they would leave. She would just have to escape and go after them anyway.
If she could get out of Mage Hall, this should be nothing.
Aven was tempted to throw open the door to his father’s meeting chambers. After the insane events of the day, who cared who the king was talking to? But Aven knew it would not help him convince the king how utterly wrong he was, so he settled for pounding on the door with his fist instead.
His father called him from inside, and Aven stepped in.
Fayton and two apprentice stewards stood by the king’s desk, going down lists of parchment.
“What is it, Aven?”
“I think you know. We need to talk,” he replied through gritted teeth.
Samul raised an eyebrow and took his pipe from his mouth for a moment. “I presume this is about Miara.” His father beckoned for him to enter. “Do you have what you need to finish the preparations without me, Fayton?”
The steward nodded. “Things should be complete by morning, my lord.” The stewards left and shut the door, leaving them alone.
“What the hell is this about?” Aven said coldly, surprising himself at the harshness of his voice.
Samul tilted his head forward, biting down on his pipe. “I believe you know exactly what it’s about. Come, sit by the fire with me.”
Aven didn’t want to sit, or meekly obey commands. He wanted to pace. Maybe slam things. But he sat anyway. Expressions of rage did not help convince anyone of anything, least of all his father. He settled for the small rebellion of plopping violently into a chair.
“I see you’re wearing your sword again,” Samul began.
Aven nodded curtly. “It seemed prudent.”
“I understand you’re angry,” his father said. “But I have good reasons for this.”
Aven glared at him. Here came the patronizing parental voice, the “I understand you want a horse of your very own, to go to war with the men, to eat all thirty-five cakes, but you can’t because you’re only six” voice. He recalled it thoroughly from when Dom was young, if not from his own childhood.
But he was not a child anymore.
“She is not guilty of the crime you hold her on,” Aven said, trying logic first. “If you can’t trust the word of Devol and Mother, who can you trust?”
“She has not been proven innocent either.” Samul narrowed his eyes at Aven.
“Are you saying you don’t trust them?”
“I frankly don’t care if it was her or not, we aren’t going to sort it out before sunrise. There’s not enough evidence to prove anything either way. But if it was her, she can’t attack you again if she’s here.”
“You can’t seriously think that likely.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s likely. If I make it impossible, we won’t have to consider it. I’m taking that chance off the table.”
“Miara has the most knowledge of Kavanar’s magic and war plans. What if they attack while we’re in Panar and she’s here? We’ll have hamstrung ourselves unnecessarily.”
“We can’t trust her knowledge, much as you might be wont to.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You’ve barely known her for a month, how do you know she doesn’t still have some other enchantment on her? Or bribe? You know they hold her family now. She has that motive alone or many others we don’t know about, and she’s the perfect person at this point to sabotage us from the inside.”
Should Aven mention the scroll Daes had sent? Would that help or hurt his case? “I’ve been through hell and back with her. She’s had every opportunity to betray me and not taken it. She would never—”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Neither can you! With that logic, we can’t know for sure Mother couldn’t be bribed.” The hell with sitting. He got up and started pacing.
“I am a year older than my father was when he died, you know.”
Aven stopped and rounded on him, scowling. “And you’re bringing that up now because… ?”
“It is very real to me that you could become king. Will become king. More real than it is to you because it’s happened to me already.”
“You think I don’t take this seriously? That I don’t understand what’s on the line?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what’s your point? I don’t see what this has to do with Miara.”
“I want them to vote on you. And you alone.”
Ah, so that was it. Aven gritted his teeth as he resumed his pacing. “But it’s not me and me alone. If they get me, they get her too. They should know the truth.” Hmm, perhaps Lady Toyl was not entirely wrong when she called a secret a lie by implication. For some secrets, anyway. If you let them stand.
“The Assembly members have had no time to get to know her as you have. You they have known their whole lives. Most of them, anyway. Which judgment do you think will be more fair, more well informed?”
Aven wanted to groan. Of course, his father was right in the sense that he was correct. Aven alone would be judged more fairly. But he wasn’t right in the moral sense. They deserved to know, as Lady Toyl had so eloquently pointed out. Aven said nothing, pacing, thinking, searching for a way to throw why he was so wrong in his father’s face.
“They do not understand her yet,” his father continued. “They do not trust her. Hell, I don’t trust her yet.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s a hard one to read, Aven. I trust your impression of people, but it’s hard to see it myself. She’s closed off. As someone with her skills and expertise probably should be.”
“She hasn’t had much incentive to develop an open and inviting personality,” Aven grumbled. “Slavery doesn’t exactly engender that in people, you know. And now we’ve locked her up, even though she was with Mother the entire time the attack was taking place.”
Samul rose to his feet and stepped in front of Aven, blocking his pacing. “We cannot afford for the complexity of her situation to muddle a vote that could change your life and the lives of your brothers, and potentially start a civil war while we’re at it. If they vote against you, neither Thel nor Dom will have a chance. Peaceful jockeying for a new heir would be lucky. More likely, the whole kingdom would fall back to warring cities and tribes. Our line would be destroyed. Hundreds if not thousands of lives could be lost. Do you hear me? If you’re willing to risk all that over whether or not your woman is in the same city with you, you’re not half as ready to be king as I thou
ght you were.”
Aven shook with barely restrained rage. “That woman has considerably more training in using magic for combat than anyone else we have. Not to mention she’s the source of nearly all the intelligence we’ve been able to acquire, save my own. As to her loyalty, I don’t see any of us stabbing ourselves in the gut just to get it through our thick heads that magic is seriously dangerous. This is war, and we’re throwing our most powerful weapon aside. If you think this attack and this cave-in are the last things the Kavanarians will attempt, then you’re not the king I thought you were.”
From the look in Samul’s eyes, Aven thought his father might beat him senseless. He braced himself, but it didn’t come. He should back down now. He was way over the line, and this was a line he never toed.
But he didn’t back down. He couldn’t. Too much was on the line. Aven continued, “If we’re to present a strong and unified front against Kavanar, we can’t win the Assembly’s support with lies and altercations. I am going to marry Miara, you’re not going to stop me, and they should know the truth about it when they make their decision. If not, they’ll feel betrayed again when they find out the truth.”
“Not if you manage it right—”
“Please. And if we fail to ‘manage’ it right? What then?”
“Your idealism will be the death of us.”
“You were the one who taught me the Code. You were the one who told me that principles matter. You were the one who explained that we must follow our principles, especially when they are inconvenient. And yet, you’re going to stand here and tell me to throw it all out when the swords are drawn?”
His father said nothing. His body shook underneath his scowl, fists clenched at his sides, just as Aven’s were.
“I thought that’s when our principles were needed most,” Aven said coldly.
Samul was silent, their hostile gazes locked with each other.
