by R. K. Thorne
“That too. I’m very talented.”
“And humble.”
“What about the mages?” Miara asked. “Should we divide them?”
“No. We’ll avoid it as much as we can. Keep the main force stationed here in Ranok. Miara, I want you to focus on organizing them and using their talents to defend the city.”
“Got it,” she said.
Dyon cleared his throat. “My regiment is on the march from Liren, but it will take another week and three days before they make it around the deep forests and arrive in southern Elaren. Once there, we can evaluate taking back Anonil if it’s been lost.”
“Good. Dyon, talk to Beneral about readying one of the regiments for the march within the week. I’ve got other urgent matters to wrap up before we leave, and another day or two will allow us to get a better glimpse into what Kavanar’s strategy is. Keep an eye on them and keep this map updated. But the rest of the day, we’ll review your plans for each contingency. Let’s take a short break and meet up again in an hour.”
“Yes, sire,” Jenec added, and Dyon gave a slight bow. The group dispersed somewhat, but Aven hung onto the table a moment longer, glaring at the pebbles.
And what are these urgent matters you need to attend to? Miara continued.
We have some priestesses who are going to be delighted to meet you. They’ve been demanding an audience with the king quite fervently.
Oh, by the gods.
“Ready for you now, Miara, Aven,” Wunik called.
Striding to a seat next to Wunik, Aven sighed too loudly as the light enveloped him. The corners of Wunik’s mouth pricked up a bit in understanding. The sunlight was no less intoxicating than it had been back on the balcony in Estun. That felt like a lifetime ago. Miara hovered beside Wunik, not sitting down.
“Here. The hold.” Wunik lowered the view.
Aven leaned forward, studying it. “Looks deserted.”
“It does. But there are horses in the stables. Or there were, yesterday.”
Aven frowned. Why, by all the gods and ancestors? “The main gates are barred and shut.”
Wunik nodded, solemn.
“If they’re anywhere inside, they must all be holed up inside the main hold barracks. But why?”
“Indeed. Why? And if your troops are not there—what happened to them?”
Aven frowned. “There’s no sign of battle.”
“No signs of the destruction air mages would have certainly brought about either,” Miara added. “No char marks, burns, craters.”
Wunik’s face darkened. “If you go, you should take Siliana with you.”
“What?” Aven looked up. “What are you thinking?”
“Why not me?” Miara said, an edge to her voice.
“Creature mages have ways of killing large numbers of people too, you know. Slower ways, mostly. Don’t they, Miara?”
She winced. “I try not to think about it. And I never, ever do it if it can possibly be avoided.”
“Many are quite unpleasant. Siliana is just as capable as Miara.” Wunik’s eyes were dark with a meaning Aven struggled to decipher.
Aven lowered his voice. “Just what do you think happened here?”
“Could be nothing.”
“Or?”
“A creature mage—or a dozen of them—could charm a pack of wolves into rampaging the place. Or any number of powerful carnivores. But as you said, there’s no blood.”
“Out with it, Wunik,” Aven said, trying not to sound harsh. Miara was glaring at Wunik too, no doubt disliking the idea of not coming with them and Siliana replacing her. And he didn’t like it much either. He’d sworn not to let her leave his side. She was no stranger to battle.
“Disease is my concern, Aven. What if they’ve made them all deathly ill? Frankly, I’m not sure any of you should go. But someone does need to figure out what has happened, lest it happen again. If they have mages willing and able to infect us with these things, we need to know. Be watching for them. Likely they would only work in a confined area like this, not the entire city here, but—”
“By the gods, Wunik.” Aven lowered his voice further. “You’re that sure they’re all dead?”
“No. I don’t know. They could naturally be sick. But they are clearly under siege from an enemy we can’t see. How many options does that leave us?”
Aven swore under his breath. “I’ll stay back from the fray if I go.”
“If it’s a disease,” Miara said harshly, “you shouldn’t go. The king should not ride willingly into a quarantine zone.” As her voice grew above a hush, some eyes glanced over toward them. Aven held up a hand, she pressed her lips together again, and they waited awkwardly for the two lieutenants and one warden to look back at their drawings and plans.
Wunik was the first to speak. “Something forced them inside. Siliana should be able to offer some protection, but who knows how many might need her help? She has worked with curing disease some. Local villagers near my cabin.”
Miara sighed. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I,” said Wunik quietly.
“If you don’t like war, then you’re paying attention. There’s nothing at all to like about it. Keep an eye on that hold, will you?”
“I’ll check back often.”
Aven nodded. “Good.”
Their new room was empty when Jaena awoke. She sat up, blinking blearily, and listened for Ro nearby. Only the crackling of the fire burning low met her ears. She fell back into the impossibly soft bed—where did they get beds like this anyway?—and shut her eyes again for a moment, hoping he’d return now that she’d stirred and curl back against her in the warmth of the bed.
Minutes passed. He didn’t return.
She sighed. The light outside the balcony doors brightened from a dull twilight to the full-fledged light of morning. He’d probably gone to start his duties, eager to look at that enchanted map. Which figured; it was incredible. Not something you ran across every day.
She, however, had nothing to rush off to. She didn’t exactly have a task, a role to play. They were all concerned about the elder king, the missing prince, how to decode the map. The brand…? Well, it was in Akaria, in Jaena’s hands and not the Masters’, and that was better than before. Good enough for now.
She was likely the only one still thinking about destroying the cursed thing.
Just as well. She also didn’t want to lose it. This was her revenge. Her prize she’d stolen from them. If anyone wanted her to give it up, she wouldn’t be doing that easily, as Aven had seen. She should get on with it. Time to don her vest and trousers and start the search. There had to be some way to ruin the thing and take its power away from the world—permanently.
Rising, she splashed water on her face, dressed, and strode back to the bed. She was reaching for the knapsack tucked between her and the wall when she noticed a curled sheet of parchment on the desk.
Had that been there last night?
She strode to it instead and picked it up. Her stomach dropped as she read it.
I look forward to the full story upon your return…
. . . your return will be much anticipated…
Damn.
She’d known. She’d expected it. Still, reading the actual words hurt like all seven hells burning her at once. Angered her too. The insolence of it—why should they assume he had nothing else to do? No one who still needed him? No more pressing mission? His work here wasn’t done. She had the brand to destroy, damn it. How dare they assume all their efforts were more important, that his loyalty belonged to them, first and foremost?
It did, of course. It must. They were probably right.
He couldn’t be expected to turn away from those who raised him, who’d cared for him, who’d given him his livelihood and his purpose. But it still pissed her off that they took it for granted. Took him for granted.
And they’d lied to him, by the gods. They couldn’t be trusted any farther than she could throw this sheet
of parchment toward the fire. She scowled at it bitterly. They hadn’t even acknowledged that the pendant hid magic or that they must have known he was a mage. Perhaps they were loath to admit any of that in writing.
Or maybe they wanted him back so they could turn him into the Devoted themselves. Or to pressure him into never using any of his magic, never returning to her.
She frowned even harder and threw the paper back onto the table with disgust. No, this couldn’t stand. She couldn’t let him just go back there and put himself in their hands.
She’d convince him to stay. Or she’d go with him. That might be best, because he needed answers. Yes. She would go with him.
But first—the brand must be dealt with.
She snatched the knapsack and headed out of their rooms quickly, heading to the library, hoping she would find him there simply hard at work already.
Let her not find him in the stables, saddling up Yada and preparing for the trip back. Without her.
The bright marble halls of Ranok bustled with the morning, servants carrying food, linens, baskets, and all sorts of other things to their destinations. She stopped one friendly looking woman for directions to the library. She thought she had it, but no point in wasting time wandering the halls of this fortress-palace-thing. Who knew how far it went on. And on and on.
She eased open the door, unsure if she needed to knock and whether it was a private or public space. Her eye caught on a familiar shock of white hair woven into a black braid down a neck that was growing terribly dear. She instantly longed to run her fingers down it, feel it, memorize it in case— No, she couldn’t lose him now.
He sat on a high oak stool, hunched over a tall cabinet filled with scrolls, inks, and other writing supplies. No one else lurked nearby, so she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. Woven rugs of a serene, rich blue warmed the stone floor. Shelves heavy with leather spines in black, forest green, brown, and aubergine rose up on every wall and loomed over her, threatening to bury her in tomes.
He turned and smiled brightly when their eyes met. She smiled back and strode to his side, craning her head at the grandness of this place as she went.
“So many books. Have you gotten to look at any of them?” A moment late, it occurred to her that no greeting had truly seemed necessary. Why? And what, if anything, did that mean?
He shook his head. “No, just went straight to work on this thing. I’d like to get done what I can before the stars come out.”
“How early were you up?”
He smiled broader, but he continued his work, his finger tracing glyphs. “Not that early.”
She circled the cabinet while he worked, wondering if there were any answers to her own quest in these texts. “Any clues on how to destroy a certain burden we carry?” she mused idly.
“We?” He looked up abruptly, as if her wording had surprised him.
“Yes, we,” she said more firmly, raising an eyebrow. Oh, of course. He would be leaving. He would be thinking of the damn thing as hers now. “I mean, no. You don’t have to worry about it, it’s mine to—”
“Oh, no, no, no. I didn’t mean that.” He stared back down at the star map, not saying more, shoulders tense. But he wasn’t reading anything. Just staring.
He didn’t want to tell her what was in the note.
She couldn’t blame him for that, of course. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she realized she should have asked for permission to read it. Too late.
“So… see anything about it?” she said into the awkward silence.
“Oh. Uh, no.” He didn’t look up.
“My, you’re jumpy.” She smiled and stepped closer, trying to put him at ease.
“I just didn’t sleep well.” He released his determined stare at the map and met her gaze, looking a little relieved. His arm snaked out and pulled her closer. He nuzzled his head against her neck and shoulder.
She laid her arm across his back and took a deep breath, breathing him in. Might not be many more moments like this one if she couldn’t convince him to take her with him.
“Some answers are likely here,” he continued, “but nothing specific. It’s all symbols, types of power. Doesn’t tell you much about how to use them, and even then the guidance is very slight. No room on the map. I think that may have been wise.”
She nodded but said nothing, pressing her face into his hair.
“It shouldn’t take too long to decode this. Then we can start figuring out how to get rid of it. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”
His breath whispered across her chest as he spoke. She frowned. He talked like he hadn’t received that note. Like he wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t be thinking of lying about it, could he? About leaving without telling her or something?
And yet, he hadn’t been terribly forthcoming about the whole I’m-on-a-secret-mission-to-help-you thing. She’d have to confront him about it sooner rather than later and tell him she was definitely coming with him.
But not before breakfast. There was at least that much time.
“Are you hungry?” she said softly, running a hand over his braid and down his strong arm, tucking the memory of those sensations away for later. “I am.”
He nodded against her. “I was planning on coming back up to find you. Didn’t think you’d be up yet.”
She glanced at the fully bright day outside and snorted.
“Well… maybe I got lost in my work.” He pulled away, grinning.
“I’ll get you something,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “And me too. If we’re allowed to have food in here?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Watch this heavy thing for me, will you?” She held out the knapsack and the cursed brand. No one else would get such trust, and when he was gone, she’d have to keep it with her always, at least as long as they let her. She’d take advantage of having a trusted ally while she still could.
She shook her head at herself. As if he were just an “ally.”
“Of course.” He accepted the pack and placed it by his feet before turning back to his work, smiling now.
She hesitated, suddenly not eager to rush off. She leaned forward and kissed his ear quickly, earning a laugh before scampering off into the hall. She thought she could feel him staring after her as she escaped, but she didn’t look back. She had no desire to know if that feeling was only wishful thinking.
Miara knocked on the exquisitely polished dark walnut door. A moment later, the door opened to reveal—a servant. Answering her father’s door? Did she have the wrong room? A kind-faced, blue-eyed older woman smiled, seemed to recognize Miara, and swung the door wider.
Her father had risen from a table set for breakfast and was striding toward her, smiling. “Meesha, lovely morning. Have you eaten?”
“Good morning, Father,” she said, smiling. “Not yet.”
“Always forgetting to eat. Come, sit with us. Thank you, Teulan.” He nodded at the servant warmly and led Miara to a table bathed with light from a glorious sunset beyond the leaded windows. Luha was cheerily munching away on an inordinately large pile of rolls, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. He gestured back to Teulan. “Apparently, someone decided we needed an… attendant.”
“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” Miara said, relieved she wasn’t alone in the feeling.
He nodded. “I can’t imagine why anyone thought we merited such a thing.” His words were heavy with meaning, and he leaned forward and studied her with laughter in his dark eyes.
Miara sank slowly into a walnut chair with an elegantly patterned back. A thick cushion the color of blueberries was soft beneath her. She couldn’t bring herself to answer his implication—the whole scene before her just seemed so strange. Placid and wholesome to the point of impossibility. The pleasant morning sun cast a gauzy, otherworldly glow over it all. This must be from some dream. Soon she would wake up and discover this was all a fantasy.
No. No, the Masters were still out there. Many mages were still
enslaved. She and her family were simply the very, very lucky ones. None of this affluence would feel comfortable to her until they’d stopped the Masters and brought it all to an end. Maybe it wouldn’t feel comfortable even then.
Her father poured her a cup of tea, although Teulan fought valiantly to make herself useful by filling Miara’s plate with something of everything.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Miara muttered at Teulan’s elbow.
Finishing her ministrations, Teulan surprised her by laying a hand on Miara’s forearm and giving her a knowing smile. “Beg your pardon, my lady. But yes, I do.”
Miara almost let her drift away, but at the last second, she admitted what she was really thinking. “Why? Why must you?” The idea that anyone felt required or obligated to serve her, that literally they must, turned Miara’s stomach.
Teulan spun gracefully and said, “Because your station requires it. You have much to concern yourself with and worry over. I am honored to do my part to make those a few less.” Teulan curtsied and headed back toward the door.
Huh. Well, if she thought about it that way… At least she’d feel less like the Mistress when these women tried to fawn over her and more like… like… Aven. The obviousness of the revelation that she must think of herself as more like an Akarian royal than a Kavanarian one made her feel silly for not having adjusted her thinking already. But she’d known the latter for perhaps a month and Kavanarians her whole life, so perhaps it wasn’t so silly.
Her father was eying her hard, as if waiting for her to say something. What had he been saying again?
“Aren’t you going to tell us more about this ‘friend’ of yours?” Luha asked finally, mouth full and gooey.
“Gross. Get done chewing first, will you?”
“She’s dodging the question, isn’t she, Da?”
“No, I’m not.” Miara frowned down at her now-full plate. Was she blushing? “What about him?”
“What happened after you left us, meesha? I take it you found your prince.” Her father’s eyes crinkled with laughter, twinkling as he sat.
She snorted. “Well, yes. I did.”
“Your plan clearly worked to free him. And then?”
