Royal Magic

by K. M. Shea

  “Stay aware of your surroundings,” Thad instructed as he narrowed his eyes. “No opponent is going to stop and let you catch your breath!”

  Gwendafyn kicked like a jackrabbit, yanking her leg free, then rolled away from the soldier.

  “For the love of Lady Tari’s favorite lemon bars,” Grygg grumbled. “What part of ‘fight dirty’ isn’t translating correctly?”

  “Don’t hold back, Princess,” Wilford advised. “We know you’ve got the edge—you’ve broken Grygg’s nose three times. That’s a new record. Phelps, here, could use a little bone re-arrangement, too.”

  “Shut up, Wilford!” Gwendafyn’s opponent—Phelps, apparently—growled as he staggered to his feet.

  Gwendafyn crisply nodded when Tari finished translating, then promptly turned and flung her wooden practice sword at Phelps with deadly accuracy.

  The soldier swore and had to throw himself to the ground to avoid it. Gwendafyn closed the distance between them with the blink of an eye, extended her elbow, and rammed the soldier in the spine with the hardest bone of her elbow.

  All of Phelps’ air left him in a painful-sounding exhale, and for a moment, he went limp.

  “Ouch,” Grygg winced in sympathy. “That had to hurt.”

  Benjimir watched the onslaught with a mixture of shock and pride.

  She’s good. She’s got the mind for this. She’s able to process orders that are translated and still use them, even when Phelps hears them first and should be able to guard himself against them. She’s fast!

  “She’s doing that thing again,” Thad said.

  “What thing?” Benjimir asked as he moved closer so he stood with the trio.

  They didn’t even notice him as they watched their elven student.

  “She’s twinkling.” Wilford nodded at Gwendafyn—who had reclaimed her sword and was running at Phelps.

  If Benjimir squinted, he could see flashy bits of light flare at her feet and around her sword.

  “It’s magic,” Seer Ringali said in Elvish as he abruptly appeared at Benjimir’s side. “Elven magic.”

  Benjimir frowned in thought. “Is that possible? I thought all elves with magic either become enchanters or Evening Stars?”

  “Not necessarily, but enchanters and Evening Stars are the only elves who are ever trained in their magic,” Seer Ringali offered Sius’ a bit of jerky as he watched the fight—making the pet snow cat purr loudly.

  Phelps nearly succeeded in dislodging Gwendafyn’s blade from her hand until she darted backwards at the last moment.

  Phelps laughed. “I nearly had you there, Princess.”

  Gwendafyn grinned when Tari translated, then lunged forward in a strike to renew the game of parries and blows.

  “If she’s showing signs of magic, shouldn’t she receive training?” Benjimir asked.

  “Not this time.” Seer Ringali said. “It’s been decades—even centuries, perhaps—since we’ve had an elf running around with untampered High Elf magic. Those who show signs of it are always recruited as Evening Stars—which changes the structure of their magic. I’ve decided I’d like to see such a thing myself.”

  Benjimir narrowed his eyes at the Evening Star. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

  “That’s it. Get ‘im now!” Wilford shouted.

  “Press the advantage,” Thad added.

  Benjimir whipped his attention back to the fight just in time to see Gwendafyn perform the exact move Phelps had nearly pulled off against her, successfully dislodging his sword from his grasp. The sword spun through the air with the force of Gwendafyn’s lever-like move, then stabbed the ground.

  In the blink of an eye, Gwendafyn stood between Phelps and the sword, her stance wary even though her shoulders heaved with effort, and she frowned.

  “Did I do that right?” she asked in Elvish. “It didn’t feel very smooth.”

  Tari relayed the question, and Thad strode into the ring, disrupting the match. He slapped Phelps on the back. “Thank you, brother.”

  Phelps wiped sweat from his forehead and accusingly glared at his brother-in-arms. “You said I was fighting the princess who had been under your tutelage for only a few weeks.”

  Grygg smiled widely. “Which is all true. It was you who assumed that meant she wasn’t any good!”

  Thad had already turned away from his friend and was addressing Gwendafyn. “Normally, you would move in closer as you propel the sword out of his hands. It extends the movement so it’s more continuous and not quite so choppy,” he said as he edged towards Tari’s handmaiden.

  “It also gets you in close range so you can take your opponent out immediately after,” Wilford added.

  Tari stretched her arms above her head as she translated, then stilled. “Arion!” She laughed in joy as she hefted herself out of her chair. Sius trotted to her side, his large tail curling around her legs as they approached Arion—who, predictably—kissed her. How domestic.

  Tari’s handmaiden had passed off the water skins and towels to Gwendafyn and Phelps and was exchanging what passed for badly mangled conversation with Thad. They spoke with hand gestures, badly-uttered Calnoric on her part, and equally garbled Elvish on his.

  Gwendafyn finally noticed Benjimir. With a smile, she jogged up to him after taking another swig of water. “Benjimir,” she said in her sing-song Elvish. “When did you arrive?”

  “Before the crate-hopping.” Benjimir stepped closer to hug her, but she danced backwards.

  “I’m sweaty, and dirty—and dusty.” She made a face. “Phelps knocked me to the ground a lot when we first started practice. I think I have dirt clods behind my ears.”

  Arion is wrong. Even if she can beat a well-trained soldier—which was a fairly wonderful sight—she’s not only an instigator, she’s adorable. Benjimir raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mind.”

  “But your clothes are so nice,” she said as her gaze lingered on his blue cape.

  Benjimir swept her up into a hug—making her squawk. To prove his point, Benjimir hugged her closer than usual and leaned his head against hers. She smelled fruity under the soothing scent of leather and dirt. Benjimir stuck his nose in her hair—making her squawk again—confirming the origins of the scent. “You smell nice,” he said.

  Gwendafyn muttered something incomprehensible into his neck.

  Benjimir ignored it and traced circles on her lower back as he recalled how fierce and free she had looked while fighting. Her lips were curved in the faintest of smiles when she had dashed at Phelps.

  She’d love traveling—and I suspect she’d find the raids exhilarating…but I can’t risk her.

  He had spoken the truth to Gwendafyn when she had asked to come. Somewhere between her joyous laughter and warm welcomes, she had become too precious to him to risk on the battlefield.

  When he was with her, he didn’t even think about Yvrea, or regret his life.

  But if I keep her at the palace, I’ll be just as bad as that battle-axe aunt of hers. And really, I shouldn’t stop her. She’s been ruled all her life by the sodden rot her family pushed on her. She can make her own choices. Though I wish those choices involved staying in Haven—preferably near me.

  A long-suffering sigh slipped from his mouth.

  “Benjimir, are you okay?” Gwendafyn asked. She shuffled in his grasp, but he didn’t let her go.

  “I’m fine. But I’ve reconsidered your request,” Benjimir said.

  Gwendafyn pulled back slightly so she could give him a look that indicated she believed he was losing his mind. “What request?”

  Benjimir smiled. “If you’d like, you should come with the Honor Guards and me when we set out for Sacred Wood.”

  Gwendafyn grabbed the collar of his shirt and leaned in. “Really?” she asked.

  Benjimir nodded.

  Gwendafyn laughed—the loud, uncontained one Benjimir was starting to like the most—and threw her arms around him. “Thank you!” She kissed him on his cheek in her enthusiasm before she bro
ke away.

  Benjimir considered grabbing her by the wrist and actually kissing her, but for all of her smiles and laughter, the likelihood that Gwendafyn—the only elf with enough cunning to arrange a politically motivated marriage—would allow it was somewhat low. Or rather low. Or not even a chance at all if Benjimir was being honest.

  She thinks I still love her sister. Benjimir paused at the thought. And don’t I? The fact that he had to ask himself that made him frown.

  Gwendafyn didn’t notice. She was happily dancing to Tari’s side, jabbering away in Elvish.

  “Tari, I’m going to be allowed to go to Sacred Wood with the Honor Guard!” Gwendafyn crouched and threw her arms around Sius in her joy.

  The cat yowled at the perceived mistreatment but tried to lick her face all the same.

  “You’re going?” Tari asked.

  Gwendafyn grinned and nodded.

  Tari spun on her heels and glared up at her husband. “Then I’m going, too!”

  Arion had obviously caught on to the words as he flattened his lips. “Tari…”

  “If Gwendafyn is going, I can go. You always told me no before because there wouldn’t be another woman going!” Tari said.

  “Princess Gwendafyn is not over seven months pregnant,” Arion said.

  “So?” Tari asked.

  Arion glared at Benjimir over his wife’s head.

  Benjimir gave the colonel his most insincere smile. It’s good for him to be ruffled every once in a while.

  “I’m going,” Tari declared.

  “We should discuss this with Seer Ringali,” Arion said. Though his Elvish pronunciation of the rest of the words was shaky, his enunciation of Seer Ringali’s name was perfect.

  “I have no desire to be pulled into the disagreements of a marriage that is not my own,” Seer Ringali said boredly.

  Gwendafyn finally stopped molesting Sius and made her way back to Benjimir. “Thank you, Benjimir,” she whispered as she leaned into his side.

  Benjimir snaked an arm around her waist, using the maneuver to cover up the way he drifted closer to her. “I’m glad it makes you so happy,” he said. “And I apologize for keeping you cooped up.”

  Gwendafyn shook her head. “I’ve had more freedom here than ever before.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Benjimir said flatly. “Despite your family’s love, you were obviously mistreated before. That doesn’t give me an excuse to do the same just because you have a slightly larger cage.”

  Gwendafyn gazed at him with her breathtaking purple eyes, and in that moment Benjimir would have given anything for her.

  “Thank you.” She lowered her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.

  Benjimir blinked at the broken connection and slowly rested his cheek on top of her head. I have no idea what that was, he thought. But if I ever see that aunt of hers again, I’m going to have her thrown from Haven—sister to the king or not.

  8

  Unexpected Changes

  Nox tossed his head, making his bridle jingle as he pranced. Gwendafyn absentmindedly patted him on the shoulder as she twisted in the saddle taking in the Sacred Wood. “The birds sound very different here,” Gwendafyn said to her riding companions: Tari, who was smug with her win against Arion’s pleas for her to remain in Haven; and a squat, older man whom Tari introduced as Wizard Edvin.

  “I imagine they are different birds from those in Lessa.” Tari peered up at the tree branches that extended over their heads. “The trees certainly are different.”

  “Yes, they are much shorter and squatter here—though they have more branches and seem a little unruly. As if they are elbowing each other out of the way.” Gwendafyn curiously watched a red-headed woodpecker as it tapped away at the trunk of a tree.

  Tari translated for Wizard Edvin, who beamed at Gwendafyn and made the gesture for “curious” and “mind,” before he chattered away to Tari in Calnoric.

  “Wizard Edvin regrets that he does not know what the elven forests look like but assures me he is very familiar with Sacred Wood—he used to work here with Arion before he became a palace wizard,” Tari translated.

  “Is that why he volunteered to come along? I know King Petyrr wanted a wizard to accompany us in case of an emergency. It was very kind of Wizard Edvin to volunteer,” Gwendafyn said.

  Tari translated for Wizard Edvin, who laughed merrily before he replied. Gwendafyn listened carefully, but she only recognized the words “Not at all” and “beauty.”

  Tari laughed outright before translated for Gwendafyn. “He claims he volunteered because it has always been his lifelong dream to ride with two elven beauties.”

  When Gwendafyn glanced at the wizard, he grinned playfully and raised his impressively thick eyebrows.

  Gwendafyn laughed. “Please tell him he is very charming.”

  Tari did so, and Wizard Edvin nodded and rattled off in Calnoric, though Gwendafyn was able to pick out a few words: “…some men…all the luck.” He pointedly looked at the front of the line, where Arion and Benjimir rode to lead the procession, and shook his staff/walking stick for emphasis. (His horse ducked its head with the practice of one used to wide gestures.)

  “What I cannot wait to see is the town,” Tari confided. “I have visited the Herycian’s lands several times, and I have ridden through several villages, but I have never spent a significant length of time in a Calnor town.”

  Gwendafyn grinned as she caught sight of Arion twisting in his saddle to check on Tari before blackly glaring at Benjimir, who rode next to him. “I’m afraid Arion does not share your enthusiasm.”

  Wizard Edvin snorted when Tari translated, then nodded emphatically in agreement.

  Tari laughed. “Arion has just turned into a worrying sheep. Neither you nor I are accompanying them on the bandit raid. There is nothing to fear.”

  “Yes,” Gwendafyn agreed, though she straightened in her saddle when she noticed the birds were no longer singing. She glanced at Tari who narrowed her eyes as she stared into the forest.

  “Arion?” Tari called.

  Before the Colonel could turn his horse around, a man jumped from an overhanging branch. He carried a spear and yelled as he plummeted directly over Benjimir.

  Benjimir nudged his horse so it sidestepped, and the bandit missed him entirely and hit the ground with a painful-sounding thud.

  Wizard Edvin squinted and exchanged a concerned look with Gwendafyn as he adjusted his grip on his staff.

  “Well!” Tari said brightly. “At least we aren’t dealing with smart bandits!”

  At her words, men clothed in green and brown clothes leaped out of bushes, jumped down from trees, and emerged from shadows, all to converge upon the Honor Guards.

  Gwendafyn drew her sword from its scabbard. Bless Benjimir for instructing me to bring a weapon!

  Nox snorted and struck out at a bandit that got too close as Gwendafyn leaned back and bashed another raider in the skull with the hilt of her sword.

  “It’s as Arion thought; at least some of these scoundrels are from Calnor,” Tari announced.

  Gwendafyn gripped Nox with her legs as she tugged on his reins, making him spin. The new position gave her the perfect angle to disarm a bandit who ran past her wielding a rusty broadsword. “And? What has that to do with anything?”

  “It means I can’t fight back,” Tari said.

  Gwendafyn grimaced. “Blast! I forgot about your vows!”

  Tari’s mare danced out of the way so an Honor Guardsman could run down a spearman. “It’s no problem. I have other methods of defending myself. Sius!” She whistled, and somewhere in the procession the snow cat snarled.

  Gwendafyn swore on the graves of her ancestors when an arrow whistled past, narrowly avoiding her. Lurching dangerously out of the saddle, she leaned over and swiped a dagger from a bandit who was trying to attack Tari. She clicked to Nox, who snorted and spun, then threw the dagger at the archer crouched next to a bush.

  Instead of nailing the ban
dit in the shoulder like she was trying to, the dagger smacked hilt-first into the archer’s head, knocking him backwards.

  I should tell Thad I would also like to be drilled on throwing methods.

  Despite her focused thoughts, Gwendafyn’s heart pounded in her chest with such strength, she feared it was trying to break free.

  She glanced at Tari, but Wizard Edvin was at her side, clubbing any bandit stupid enough to get close to him, and Sius had arrived, scaring off any bandits from the Evening Star’s other side.

  Good. She’ll be fine.

  As she turned Nox in a circle, trying to find a new bandit to target, Gwendafyn felt something in the back of her mind shift. It was there, again. The massive wooden door in her mind’s eye.

  She could feel something beyond the door—something that made the door rattle and groan. Magic.

  No, Gwendafyn thought grimly. It seems I am already too much as I am. Bringing magic into the mix will make it impossible for anyone to really love me.

  She ruthlessly shoved the image of the door to the back of her mind, and instead held onto Nox as he crowhopped and kicked his hind legs at a bandit, sending him sprawling.

  Gwendafyn twirled her sword, then leaned out of her saddle and chopped her hilt into a bandit’s windpipe, making him fall with a gurgle.

  A bandit ran past her, making straight for Tari.

  “Look out!” Gwendafyn shouted, but Sius pounced on the man with a roar.

  And just like that, the fight was over.

  A quick glance confirmed that Benjimir was safe—still at the front of the procession, though his face was stormy as he gave orders.

  Tari was fine—she spoke soothing words to her mare and her cat, who twitched his tail back and forth like an irritated housecat—and just beyond her Wizard Edwin calmly polished the top of his staff with his robe.

  Satisfied, Gwendafyn turned her attention to the rest of the raid.

  As she assessed the rest of the Honor Guards, she was glad to see there were no deaths among their ranks, though there appeared to be several serious wounds that would need to be taken care of immediately.