by Beth Alvarez
He grimaced. “Her story was somewhat different. Not that I believed her,” he added hastily. “The problem is that she believes herself when she says it. I’m beginning to think she’s mad, Firal.”
“Then you’re a little late to that conclusion,” she sniffed, put his boots aside and climbed onto the bed beside him. She touched his face and he shivered at the coolness of her fingers. He’d half expected a chilly wash of power to go with it, an odd sensation that would indicate she was inspecting his physical state. It didn’t come. He wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t fond of it, but it was more pleasant than the prickle of passing through a Gate. He’d had enough of that for a lifetime, though he knew he’d have to suffer it many more times before this was over.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Being away from home has been hard for me, that’s all. Especially having spent all this time among her people and hearing the way they talk.” He relaxed when her cold fingers pulled away.
She made up for it with the warmth of her body as she curled against him and clung to his arm. “The reports changed all the time. You were missing for so long, then they said you were in the temple. I was ready to send people after you. I was trying to arrange it when Envesi came to the palace. If it hadn’t been for Rune, I...” She trailed off and bowed her head.
Vahn’s throat constricted. “I understand he’s here, as well.”
“Yes,” Firal sighed, nuzzling his shoulder. “For all the help that’s been.”
“You don’t sound happy.” He didn’t know whether that should please him or not.
“He’s difficult,” she muttered. “I’m not sure if I can consider him an ally, honestly. But he did save us when Envesi attacked, so I suppose I still must thank him for that. You were right to summon him. Had you not, I suppose we all would be dead.”
“But he was unwilling to help?” Vahn didn’t know why he asked. Had Ran been willing to help, they would have been rescued from Alwhen within a day. He paused and leaned back to look at her. “What did you call him, a moment ago?”
Firal shrugged. “His name. Rune Kaim-Ennen is what they call him here.”
He frowned. “I’ve heard that before. Politicians and merchants both have mentioned that name when visiting the island. The Champion of the Royal City Arena. Quite a hero in the Triad. If I had realized...”
“You couldn’t have known,” Firal said. “Even if I’d heard it, I don’t think I would have known. I never expected he would have kept that name.”
Vahn shifted, unsettled. “Kept it?”
“The name I gave him,” she replied quietly. “When we married, he asked what I would call him. Which identity I would expect him to take. But they were both vestiges of a troubled life. So I gave him a new name, from the scar in his hand.”
And he’d kept it, through all those years. Uneasy, Vahn pulled away. “Well, perhaps things will change now. I am to discuss matters with Vicamros in the morning, but I expect we should be able to return home afterward.” He busied himself with unbuttoning his shirt, pretending getting ready to sleep had been his intent all along.
Firal blinked at him. “So soon? But we’ve not even begun to discuss Envesi, or how she’s to be dealt with—”
“By others,” Vahn said before she could finish. “While I do think she’s mad, I don’t think it was her intention to hurt you. At least, not when she arrived. The ugly truth is that she needs us. Both of us. And as long as we keep our heads down, we should be safe until Vicamros does whatever he pleases about her.”
Her mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious!”
“I am.” He nearly snapped. Exhausted as he was, he barely caught himself. Cross was the last thing he wanted to be. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to sound more pleasant. “Lulu is home. You’re alive. Envesi wants us to keep leading Ilmenhith, which means for now, our family is safe. I want it to be safe and whole again. I want to go home and try to forget any of this ever happened.”
“We’re not safe,” Firal protested. “We won’t be safe anywhere until she’s gone. She attacked the Grand College, Vahn. She attacked the school of mages on the southern continent. Both because they didn’t immediately agree with her methods. How can you think it will be different for us?”
“Because we aren’t the Grand College or a school of mages.” Vahn frowned at her. “At worst, we’ll have to cut ties with Kirban and send the mages back to the temple. Destruction of magic, preservation of magic—whatever it is, it’s mage business. Other mage organizations are the only people she’s attacked. She’ll leave everyone else out of it.”
Her cheeks colored with the hot pink of anger. “No, she won’t. It will always involve us, because I’ll always be a mage. So will our daughter. That’s the reason she was taken in the first place!”
He heaved a sigh. “Then we’ll have to negotiate something. A trade, maybe. Your freedom and Lulu’s in exchange for cutting the temple free of its ties to the crown.”
“So you would have me oust Kytenia in favor of a madwoman? Or worse, turn her over to Envesi along with the rest of the mages. Why not?” She snorted and shook her head.
“I know it’s not a perfect solution,” Vahn said, tempering his annoyance. “But it’s the best chance we have right now. Right now, she’s willing to let us have the island back. As long as we leave her alone, it could be years before we face problems again. Being on her good side is not without advantages, Firal.”
She drew back, her eyes narrowing, and he knew he’d made a mistake.
“Advantages,” she repeated. “Why would you think that? What have you heard?”
Vahn hesitated. Letting her know he’d spoken to Envesi directly on multiple occasions would clearly be another mistake. No matter how useful the woman’s expertise might be in strengthening mages and restoring their hope for a growing family, now was not the time to discuss it. Not now, and not likely soon.
“Well, she’d be less likely to want to kill us, that’s for certain.” He mustered a smile and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know all of this is important, but I haven’t slept in two days. I’m having trouble thinking straight. I need to rest at least a little before we meet with Vicamros in the morning.”
“Of course,” Firal murmured, though the way she eyed him reminded him of some cautious woodland creature instead of his wife.
Vahn stripped to his smallclothes, climbed into the bed and opened an arm in invitation. Firal crawled to meet him and rested her head on his shoulder, but she didn’t remove her gown.
An odd thing, that dress. He only recalled seeing her in black once before, so many years ago it seemed like a dream. He’d danced with her, spun her across the floor and mused at how the red gores in her skirt had matched her flame-like mask.
“Just think,” he said drowsily, his mind on the grand ballroom in Ilmenhith and what excuse he might find to dance with her again. “Tomorrow, perhaps we’ll finally be home.”
The lights in the room seemed to dim as sleep reached to take him. He wondered only fleetingly why Firal didn’t douse the lamps with her magic. Then a yawn chased the thought away.
“Yes,” Firal replied, a thoughtful note in her voice. “Home.”
After so many years in the Royal City, working alongside Garam, Vicamros, Redoram, and Sera, Rune’s friendship with Vahn had still been the most meaningful of his life.
There was a clear divide in his head, a rift where his life had split into two distinct halves. The edge of the rift was the minute he’d given up on returning to Elenhiise and surrendered to his new life in the Triad. He cared for the people he’d met in the new chapter, but not with the same warmth he’d felt for those he’d known in his youth.
He and Vahn had grown up together. Shared secrets the people in the Triad would never understand. His friends in the Triad had met him as Rune, the man in a monster’s body, the wild mage already experienced with war. They’d never known him as Ran, the lonely and troubled youth force
d to hide his true nature with illusory magic.
In spite of their long history and the close kinship they’d once shared, Rune did not go to greet Vahn. He was both relieved and grateful to know his friend had survived, and that he’d made his way to the Royal City, but on the heels of all that had happened that evening, it was simply too much.
He’d hoped to drink himself into oblivion after escaping the banquet hall. The social event before war began was bad enough, but for Vicamros to insist Rhyllyn play that blighted ballad was more than he could bear.
Rune hated that song. He’d hated it since he’d first found the lyrics scrawled on a scrap of paper in his private library, and had regretted telling Rhyllyn of his failed marriage ever since.
Yet he still wore the rings on a strap around his neck. Still lost himself in the six-rayed star of the serpent’s tear whenever it caught the light. The stone was still the most beautiful he’d ever seen, deep red and crowning twists of gold that surely wouldn’t fit back on Firal’s finger after so many years.
They’d both changed in their years apart. He’d been battered and scarred, and she’d regained the weight she’d lost during the difficult months in Core. That time had been hard on her. Her fingers had been too slender when he gave her that ring. She’d never looked better than when he’d first laid eyes on her again, when she stood before the throne to look down on him. And oh, how he wanted her. To see the fire in her amber eyes, to breathe the sweetness of her hair while its soft strands tickled his skin, to hear the sweet melody of her laugh.
He fought that desire with everything he had. Out of respect for her, respect for his oldest and dearest friend, out of respect for the bond they shared now. Yet he hadn’t been able to smother the small flame that had always burned in his heart, and it made him question himself at the most inopportune times.
What if he’d let her touch him? Administer healing and felt their energies combine again? What if he’d held her on the balcony when she’d cried? What if, instead of fleeing when Rhyllyn began his song, he’d asked her for just one dance?
And what would have happened when none of those were enough?
So Rune had remained out of sight, hiding in his room and clinging to the bottle of whiskey on his table.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the joy on Firal’s face over again. She left without a second thought, forgetting all they’d argued over and all he’d said to drive her away. He should have been happy that it worked, but instead he found himself clinking the rings on his necklace and studying them for the thousandth time.
The plain gold band caught on one claw and he shifted his hand, dragging it farther down his finger without ever removing it from the strap. She’d outgrown her ring, but his still fit.
It always had.
He drank.
16
Missing Pieces
“So, we’re finally all back together.” Kytenia sighed as she took a seat at the head of the table. Relieved as she was, she couldn’t bring herself to smile.
A handful of other Masters took chairs of their own, their expressions as mixed as her own feelings. Rikka and Balen sat together. They hadn’t stopped smiling since their reunion. After all they’d been through, Kytenia had little doubt they’d both believed the other dead. With how standoffish Rikka had grown in her time as a Master, it was good to see someone had broken through her shell and offered friendship.
Edagan and Anaide settled together as well, but they were often inseparable in the temple, too. After Kytenia had been appointed Archmage, they’d been all that remained of the old leadership. Edagan was more agreeable, but both had tendencies to dig in their heels. Normally, Shymin was there to tilt discussions in Kytenia’s favor. With her sister firmly planted on the wrong side of the divide they faced, she expected meetings to be difficult, moving forward. She had hoped the temple would never split again.
The court mages bore no desire to cluster together, it seemed, and while Temar placed herself at Kytenia’s left side, Asula and Kella had taken the first chairs they’d reached. Kytenia had been afforded enough time to know she liked them both, and wished she knew more about Neve, the other temple Master who had come with Edagan’s magelings.
The thought of that group made her wince, and Kytenia pressed her fingers to her temple. “Have the magelings been afforded proper sleeping arrangements?”
“Yes,” Balen replied. “King Vicamros has granted them space in the floors reserved for his own court mages. They will have everything they need, including supervision.”
Kytenia nodded. “Good. Now, down to business. It’s best if we go over everything that’s happened since... goodness, I don’t even know. After I went to Ilmenhith to meet with Rune, everything began to fall apart.”
Edagan squinted at her. “With who?”
“With Ran,” Rikka said. “This is precisely why we need to make sure we all understand what’s going on.”
Beside her, Balen nodded.
So the starting point in the story was much farther back than she’d thought. Kytenia suppressed her desire to sigh again. “Right. I’d gone to Ilmenhith when I heard Ran—he goes by Rune, now—was there. That was when Envesi attacked the temple.”
“While we were in the ruins for field exercises,” Edagan said with a nod toward Neve. “Balen came to warn us. Rikka and Anaide were the ones in the temple.”
“And Shymin,” Rikka added. Her mouth took a sour twist. Several others frowned.
“Would someone fetch me a piece of paper?” Kytenia asked. “I suspect I’m going to need to write things down.”
Asula stood without a word and vanished into the hall to find a page.
“Should we wait for her?” Rikka asked.
“No, let’s continue. Rikka, you were the one who came to find me in Ilmenhith,” Kytenia said. “Temar, Kella, and Asula were in the palace the whole time.”
“And seized your sister when she made the mistake of revealing her loyalties,” Temar grumbled.
Everyone at the table sobered.
“Never mind,” Kytenia sighed. “Let’s wait for that paper.”
A long, awkward silence followed.
When Asula returned with a stack of fine paper and a handful of writing implements and ink bottles, everyone sat without speaking while Kytenia wrote out everything they’d discussed. Eventually, this would all go into the temple’s records. Assuming they ever made it back to the temple, that was. It unsettled her to admit she was no longer certain they could reclaim it.
“Okay,” she said when she finished her notes. “I wrote down everything that happened to my group since things went sour in the palace. Edagan, explain everything that happened to yours.” Her eyes darted to Balen and Neve. Should she have addressed them, as well? She hated to second-guess herself, but she had put Edagan in charge of field exercises, not them. The magelings lodged in the Spiral Palace now were Edagan’s students.
The Master of Earth cleared her throat and clasped her hands against the edge of the table. “Of course. As I told you when we arrived earlier, we tunneled down to Core. We warned the ruin-folk and they began to prepare evacuations of their own. We left them to prepare and used the Gate in the mines to reach the mainland.”
Kytenia nodded as she scratched out a new column of notes.
“Once we arrived,” Edagan continued, “I left the others and made for the Grand College, in hopes Archmage Arrick could help us reach the queen. Instead, upon reaching the college, I discovered the Archmage had been killed and your sister put in his place.”
“At which point you encountered Vahn?” Kytenia asked.
“In the hallway,” the older Master agreed.
“And now we’re here,” Balen added as conclusion.
When she finished writing and saw it all laid out on paper, Kytenia couldn’t help but frown at how simple what felt like chaos truly was.
A moment passed before Temar spoke. “Now, Archmage, it seems the problem we face is determining what
comes next.”
“Yes.” Kytenia wished that part were simple, too.
“We’re fortunate this many people in leadership positions were able to escape,” Anaide said. “Right now, every authority figure in the western half of Elenhiise is within the Spiral Palace.”
“Almost every authority figure,” Kytenia corrected. “Tobias of the ruin-folk is yet unaccounted for.”
Balen tapped the edge of the table. “Was he not in the underground city when we were present, Edagan?”
The Master of Earth spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I am uncertain, but we will know soon, one way or another. I expect it did not take long for the ruin-folk to follow us through the Gate.”
“If the Gate in the mines remains open, should we consider closing it now?” Temar asked. “Queen Firal had wanted all Gates that led off-island to be closed.”
“We can ask, but at this point in time, that decision will be up to King Vicamros.” Kytenia knew precious little about the man, for all that the Elenhiise and the Triad were allies. He’d struck her as long-suffering and level-headed since their arrival. She only hoped that foretold a favorable outcome for the meeting to be held the following morning. “And he has requested our assistance. That should be our primary focus at this time. It would be unwise to shun such a request after seeking asylum under his roof.”
Rikka nodded in agreement, but the two elder Masters both fidgeted like unhappy children. Anaide was the one who spoke.
“Is that really all we are meant to do? On Elenhiise, mages are an illustrious group, respected and—”
“And expected to serve the crown,” Kytenia interjected. “Whatever Firal wants us to do, we will know tomorrow. Vahn’s presence will change many things, and we would be wise to hear what he has to say before we plan too far ahead.”
This time, the court mages nodded along with Rikka—and Balen joined their agreement, too. That left Neve, Edagan, and Anaide frowning at her, but they were outnumbered.
