The Complete Enslaved Chronicles

by R. K. Thorne

  “If I am, does it change anything?” He felt fear shoot through him now too. Any other woman would jump at this chance. How many suitors had been after him for this reason, for exactly this power he’d been born into? Not her.

  She loved him. She’d said she wanted to marry him. Had the last few days convinced her she needed not to be queen more?

  What could his father have said to her?

  His heart skipped a beat as the moments passed, growing his fears.

  Her mouth opened, then closed, and she pulled away slightly. She glanced around the room. He ignored it, only intent on her. His instinct said to pull her back against him, tighten his grip around her, but he fought it. He could never make her stay, even if he wanted to. If she walked away now, though, what would he do? King or no king, he might collapse just as soon as she was out that door.

  Her eyes met his again, an unexpected hardness in them that he didn’t know how to interpret. She’s still here, he realized. She hasn’t run off yet.

  “If I am, does it change anything?” he said again, softer but more urgent this time.

  Something shifted in her shoulders, and her chin lifted. Here comes the fatal blow, he thought.

  “It might change a few things.”

  What for the love of Anara did that mean? “Like what?”

  “Well, maybe we better get to our lake sooner, rather than later. Don’t you think?” The corner of her mouth turned up in a half smile. We. Our.

  Gods.

  He kissed her again, softer this time, awash in relief and joy. After a moment, she pushed him away firmly. “Why are you so surprised? Did you really think I could walk away from you?”

  “I just—I feared the worst.”

  “Don’t.” She kissed him again, gently this time.

  “I’m a king, it’s my job to worry.” He tried a comic shrug and earned a slight laugh. Relief washed over him. If they could joke about it, it would probably be all right.

  “If I’m to be your queen, I believe it’s my job to order you not to. But that’s for later. Come, we have work to do.” She swept a hand out, indicating the chaos surrounding them.

  “Right. Let me check on Wunik.”

  “I’ll get someone to fetch towels.”

  Aven trotted back in to see if Wunik needed assistance, but it was clear Asten was doting on the old man like a prized warhorse. Through the window of light, he could see the horsemen had just reached the catapults, but mages on foot had emerged to engage them.

  He didn’t want to be separated from Miara for long, so he jogged out to find her again. His father was stabilizing somewhat, although his mother looked pale and almost… frail. Gods.

  Miara strode up. “Come on. Things are stable down here. Let’s figure out if Jaena and the others need help.”

  Chapter 18

  Titles

  Miara took the steps up the tower two at a time, thigh aching and Aven following behind her. The air of the tower felt especially cold, having just left his arms, and part of her wanted to turn back and kiss him, to finally rest, but the mages might need their help. Another thunderous boom and tinkling rain filled the air as they neared the passage onto the ramparts. Derk, Jaena, and a man with a white streak in his black hair that Miara didn’t recognize came into view. The man’s arms were circling Jaena’s waist as she leaned against him, eyes closed.

  “Jaena!” Miara called.

  Her eyes opened. “Miara!” Jaena left the man for a moment and threw her arms around Miara in an embrace.

  “You made it, thank the gods. What are you two doing?”

  “Her idea,” Derk grunted. “We’re slowing down or deflecting their shots.”

  “And shattering them, when I’m able,” Jaena said with a determined smile.

  “It should be almost over,” Aven said. “The riders should have reached the catapults. Do you need our help?”

  “Me? Need help?” Derk smirked at him, then stopped. His eyes flicked to their clasped hands, then back to Aven’s for a long moment. “Yeah, actually, I could use some help.”

  Aven snorted, squeezed Miara’s hand, and joined Derk near the wall as he explained what to do.

  “Another one’s coming—hold on.” Jaena gazed out over the city for another moment. Sure enough, a huge stone came hurling toward the city, off to the left of their tower.

  “Let’s send this one back at them this time,” Derk said, voice strained. “You’re so good at blowing hot air, why don’t you put that to some practical use, eh?”

  As the boulder crossed high above the city wall and reached its zenith, it slowed unnaturally, almost stopped. Then, slowly, it reversed. “Think we can light it up?” Aven said.

  “Try it,” Derk grunted. As the boulder picked up speed, it burst into flame, hurtling back toward the catapults faster than it had approached.

  “Watch the riders,” Miara barked, raising her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Derk grumbled.

  They all stood holding their breaths as the fiery rock plummeted to the earth, smashing into the back two rows of catapults that the Panaran riders had not yet reached. At least five catapults splintered into flying shards of burning wood and scraps of metal.

  “Another!” growled Aven.

  “I’m Tharomar,” said the unknown man, bowing slightly.

  “Miara. Mage, formerly of Kavanar.”

  “I…” Tharomar frowned, searching for how exactly to introduce himself. “I’m a blacksmith, among other things,” he said with a glance in Jaena’s direction.

  Miara raised an eyebrow as her smile grew to a grin. Among other things? She had a feeling she would be interested to find out what those “other things” were.

  Jaena returned from the edge of the wall. “You won’t believe this,” she said, her voice low and clearly only for Miara. “After you freed me, I was working in the smithy the next day, like we’d planned. They brought in a new mage to enslave, but he fought them and ran. I was knocked aside and found the brand not three feet from me.”

  Miara cocked her head. “And?”

  “I grabbed it and ran,” she said, nearly a whisper now. “That’s why I had to escape early.”

  “What… ? Gods.”

  “Later. You’ll see. Hold on, one moment.”

  The mages slowed another boulder and volleyed it back at the catapults. “I think that’s the last of them,” Derk muttered. “I hope.”

  “Looks like the riders are making short work of the Kavanarian forces. I think he’s right, that’s the last boulder we’ll be seeing from them,” said Aven. “Should we go back down? Miara, I think we may have some more good news for you.”

  Miara frowned even as he came and took her hand again. “The vote? The vote! Did it happen?”

  Aven nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “Everybody voted for him except those two trash-eating worms,” Derk interjected from behind Aven.

  “And then one of the Assemblywomen accused the vicious one of high treason. It was great!” Jaena laughed, but then sobered. “Well… until the catapult hit before we were able to imprison him.”

  “We’ll find him, don’t worry,” said Aven. “But that’s not the good news. Come on downstairs.” As they began to head down the steps, Aven leaned close and whispered in her ear. “I also told them all I’m going to marry you, like it or not.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Before or after they voted for you?”

  “Before.”

  “Fool,” she said, smiling.

  “You seem to inspire a lot of very foolish behavior, what can I say?” He shrugged.

  She struggled to contain a smile at that and failed as they reached the bottom of the tower. No immediate good news caught her eye, except that Samul was sitting up and definitely breathing.

  “Miara Floren,” Samul thundered. The jubilant feeling in the room and her heart faltered.

  “Yes, my lord,” she said, coming forward quickly and relinquishing Aven�
��s hand yet again. The king looked deathly serious. Miara’s heart pounded in her throat. Had he seen their hands clasped, could this be over such a small thing as that? Or perhaps he intended to make an example of her escape, if only verbally.

  “Take a knee,” he ordered, and she fell to one knee as instructed. “You are all witnesses. This mage has saved my life and my son’s life. I daresay it’s becoming a habit. For your bravery in combat and your martial ability, as well as your unflagging loyalty even as we doubted you, I declare you, Miara Floren, an Arms Master of the Realm of Akaria. I officially bestow upon you this title and all the respect that goes with it for your valiant efforts on behalf of our kingdom, my ancestors, and my family.”

  She rose, astonished, as applause went up around her. She glanced at the room, finding Wunik, Asten, Beneral all smiling.

  And then her eyes caught on a familiar sight, an impossible face, no, two faces that didn’t belong in Akaria at all. Her father and Luha waited quietly in the corner, beaming joyfully.

  “Father!” She rushed to them and threw her arms around them. “How did you—?”

  “Your ‘friend’ saved us,” her father said, grinning.

  “He’s more than a friend,” she said quickly.

  “I gathered that.”

  She bent to squeeze Luha against her chest, whispering, “I was so worried. I missed you.”

  Luha grinned up at her. “Your friend clubbed Father in the head.”

  Miara blanched. “Um…”

  “It was the Dark Master’s fault, don’t worry,” Luha said. “Otherwise Father was going to club your friend in the head.”

  Miara mouthed a silent “Oh” and squeezed them all together again as someone approached from behind. She turned to see Aven hanging back and ushered him closer.

  “You clubbed my father in the head?”

  His eyes widened for just a moment before relaxing again. “The Masters were holding them and Tharomar in a palace about two hours’ flight from here. We, uh… went and got them. Did quite a bit of damage, actually. I don’t think we’ve heard the end of that. But at least we’re safe for now.”

  “Indeed.” She threw an arm over his shoulder and squeezed them all again.

  “Uh, Miara? I can’t breathe,” squeaked Luha.

  “C’mon,” said Aven. “I think this calls for some mead.”

  “Wait,” Samul’s voice called again. Aven and Miara turned to face him. “Aven, I have one more need of you first.”

  “Yes?”

  “Come here.”

  Aven strode to him and froze as Samul gestured toward the earth. “Kneel, Son of Akaria.”

  Miara’s heart pounded, and she clenched Luha’s hand in hers. Was she seeing what she thought she was seeing?

  Slowly, Aven sank to one knee.

  Samul rose to standing with difficulty, Elise rushing to his side to help him stay up. Why was he not fully healed? Perhaps they’d only had the energy to get him partway there. But that didn’t make any sense.

  From the door of the cellar, Dyon strode forward, holding something. A circlet, she realized, a band made of a shining silver metal and studded with sapphires that glittered even in the dull firelight.

  The room had fallen silent. Samul took the crown carefully in both hands. “In times of war like this one, when the wounded fall, shields shatter, and towers burn, the old must step aside,” Samul said, his voice rough. He lowered the shining band onto Aven’s brow. “In times such as these, we make room for the new.” Samul regarded Aven for a moment, a smile like she hadn’t seen before on his face. “Rise, Aven Lanuken, King of Akaria.”

  A cry rose up around Miara, a shout, a roar of triumph.

  A war cry.

  Well. All things considered, this calculated risk had turned out far better than Daes could have hoped.

  Daes glanced at Marielle, her form beautifully arrayed across the throne next to him. Perhaps the gods were on his side. Either that, or she’d been an immense stroke of luck. He could never have arranged something like this on his own, and even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have gone off as planned.

  Sure, they’d lost the brand, but they’d have a new one soon. His first scouting party should have reached Panar by now and attacked the location Lord Alikar had so dutifully supplied. His first mage squad was in the Akarian mountains. His assassins were still hard at work in Estun. Everything that he wanted was in motion, hurtling him and Marielle toward victory.

  He shifted on the hard marble. Leave it to that idiot Demikin to make a throne that looked grandiose but was horrifyingly uncomfortable. And white. Who made a chair out of marble anyway and didn’t even put a cushion on it?

  Oh, there were so many things to change around here.

  He only sat on black chairs. He suppressed a grin. The doors to the throne room opened, and nobles filed in. Nobles that had once looked down on his half-noble birth. Nobles that had once mocked his post at Mage Hall as a child-minder to miscreants. Nobles he had manipulated carefully over the years.

  Nobles that he would now rule.

  The room fell silent. With appropriate gravity, the queen stood. She moved slowly, casually, as if to say, I could take all day to do this, and you would all wait and watch me as long as I willed it. And they would too. None among them would dare to challenge her.

  Or more particularly, him.

  A slight flick of her fingers summoned a servant carrying a red velvet pillow, on top of which rested a newly minted golden circlet studded with three rubies. She held the crown aloft, then glided gracefully to him and placed it on his brow. He bowed his head to accept it but never rose.

  “Lords and ladies of Evrical, and of the kingdom of Kavanar, our finest realm in all the land,” she said, facing the gathering. “May I present to you Royal Consort Daes Cavalion. Abide him as you would abide me.”

  The nobles of Kavanar bowed before him, as did the queen, and Daes smiled.

  Oh, there were so many things to change around here.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my editor, Elizabeth Nover of Razor Sharp Editing, for all her wonderful work and feedback on this book. Thanks to Jeff Hoskinson for beta reading and also my husband for their valuable feedback. You all made this book so much better, and I am grateful.

  To all my family and friends, thank you for your support and enthusiasm as I’ve embarked on this journey.

  About Star Mage

  Some magic should be forbidden.

  Reunited safely in Panar, Miara, Aven, and their friends have conquered more obstacles than they thought possible. The Akarian Assembly has accepted Aven and his magic -- and Miara as his queen. But the problems for Akaria and its freemages are only beginning. One ally has vanished. Another teeters on the edge of death. And a third will face a choice between duty and love.

  Meanwhile, the Dark Master has marshaled the combined power of Mage Hall and Kavanar’s army. He's closer than ever before to his goals: destroy the star mage and his magic, recapture those who've escaped, and seize all of Akaria for himself.

  With the true, terrible potential of magic unleashed, no one can predict what destruction will be wrought. The struggle for the freedom of mage slaves culminates in all-out war in this third and final volume of the Enslaved Chronicles.

  For Mrs. Leonardo, who first taught me to reach down, open my heart up, and bleed on the page.

  And for Joanna, who loves freedom as much as I do. Thank you for teaching me the priceless lesson of taking myself seriously.

  Chapter 1

  Searching

  Blackness weighed down on Thel, darker than any Estun cellar, reassuring in that he must be alive, ominous in that he wasn’t sure how long that would last. His forearm had been trapped against his face by the weight, a minor blessing of protection, but angular shapes jutted into his chest, his thigh, his kidney. His everywhere, really, although the jabs from below him were warm against his back. He coughed involuntarily, then grunted as his body spasmed painful
ly beneath whatever was crushing him. Dust was thick on his tongue, in his throat. What the hell had happened? How had he gotten here?

  It came rushing back—the voting both for and against his brother Aven, Alikar’s bribing of the Assembly members, the side of the tower exploding, rubble flying.

  Ah, yes. The rubble. That was the heaviness, the weight on all sides. And yet, being crushed by rock shouldn’t be quite so comfortable. Something else was at play. Yes, he could feel it now. His magic kept the rock from completely suffocating him, he could feel it now. Was the pressure lessening even now as he thought about it, or was it just his imagination?

  No, indeed, he could sense more. He could feel rocks like another limb, as though he’d extended his awareness into them, could feel other rocks beyond.

  Curious.

  Also—just how deeply was he buried?

  Panic flooded him for a moment, and it did not ease when his next breath was even thicker with dust. Gods. He fought down the panic, pressed it back and out of the forefront of his mind. Panic would get him nowhere. He had to think.

  He was already using his magic. By all rights he should be crushed to a gooey pulp. Had he protected himself? Hmm. What had that book said? Tucked inside his jerkin, it wasn’t very useful right now. It was just as crushed as he was. He hadn’t gotten far learning any earth magic from it.

  He’d only coaxed his mage status out of Miara a week ago. He and Teron had been the only earth mages at Estun, both untrained, so they’d searched the stronghold’s library and turned up a single, palm-sized volume bound in black leather. But he hadn’t had nearly enough time to study it and really learn anything.

  And yet. He should be able to move the rock, he’d read that much. A truly untested hypothesis indeed. Reaching out around him, he sensed more rock but not an infinite amount. Above him, it ended rather quickly. Below him, it stretched on and on… And there was something that wasn’t rock.