by Beth Alvarez
The old man withdrew with a snort and waved him off.
Rune nodded a goodbye and slipped out the palace doors.
That the main entry bore no steps or grandeur still struck him as odd, thirty years after he’d first seen it, but he’d seen enough of the world to have other structures replace the Spiral Palace on his list of most unusual. The courtyard gardens were small, and it did not take long for him to find Rhyllyn and Vivenne on a bench among the sword lilies. “I thought you wanted to see the native plantings,” he called.
Rhyllyn and Vivenne both grinned at him.
“Well, we did, but then she was telling me about having these in her garden. Did you know she took care of all the plantings herself?” A light of admiration shone in the boy’s eyes. “Even with a full staff at her command.”
“And I helped rearrange the palace gardens, if you’ll recall,” Vivenne added with a dignified incline of her head. “That whole first summer you and Vahnil spent together, I sat in the gardens and transplanted flowers.”
Rune slid his hands into his pockets as he came to a stop. The bench was framed by spears of lilies in every color, and every color of lily had been braided into Vivenne’s graying hair. She looked older than he recalled, even from their time together earlier in the day, but a hint of light had returned to her eyes. “I remember. He kept hitting me with your stakes, trying to get me to sword fight.”
“A boy’s sense of propriety is always lacking, I’ll agree,” she laughed. “But between myself and Medreal, we managed to keep you both from knocking out anyone’s teeth, and I still take that as a source of pride.”
Thoughts of Medreal had been few since Rune had learned of her death, and thinking of her now faded his smile. “I would have liked to see her again. I would have liked her to meet Rhyllyn.”
Vivenne patted the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’d be proud. I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever be a good influence on anyone, but you’ve done a good job helping raise this lad.”
The praise put a rosy color in Rhyllyn’s cheeks and he turned away as if to hide his embarrassment. Instead, he straightened in his seat, like a cat that had just spotted a bird.
Rune glanced over his shoulder.
Across the courtyard, Redoram stood conversing with a handful of mages in Master white. Beside them, Tobias, Garam, and Ordin stood in a cluster of their own.
“That didn’t take long,” Rune murmured. “Excuse me a moment.”
Vivenne waved him off and turned for Rhyllyn to add another stray lily to her hair.
Tobias saw him coming and turned to open their small circle, welcoming his inclusion. “I didn’t have the chance to thank you for the suggestion of the rails.”
“I was surprised to see them,” Rune said as he joined the group. “I didn’t think you would’ve had the time.”
“We used timber we’d already cut. Without needing the open spaces of the ruins for agriculture, after we came under control of the crown, we’d taken to planting trees. Lumber was hard to come by on Elenhiise, but expensive to import, even with the Gates.” Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure wood was the best choice, but I suppose they didn’t need to be permanent. Being able to load supplies, the children, and the infirm into converted wagons let us evacuate Core much faster.”
“I saw the trees in Core. All around the mouth of the river, on the side of the tower.” And he’d destroyed them, like he’d destroyed the rest of the island. Rune lowered his eyes. “I’m glad you were able to utilize the design so quickly.”
Tobias shrugged. “We had few choices. We worked day and night to get it done, but it helped. So, thank you.”
Discomfort crept beneath his collar with the praise and Rune resisted the urge to scratch. He changed the subject, instead. “I thought choosing a mage would take longer, but it looks like Redoram pulled plenty of good options.” Most of the mages were familiar, too. Rikka grinned at him when he looked her way, but the mages kept their voices low. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, anyway.
“Yes. Actually, choosing was easy. We’re just waiting for one last blessing.” Tobias glanced to Ordin, rather than the mages.
Rune regarded the captain with a speculative frown. “Where do you figure in? I thought you were at the manor.”
“I was. Like he said, they’re waiting for one last blessing.” Ordin’s eyes traveled toward the palace doors.
Just inside, Firal stood conversing with Temar and Vicamros.
Rune’s brows rose.
“The court mages were sworn to serve the royal family,” Ordin explained in low tones. “That oath doesn’t end with the dissolution of the crown.”
“And what of you?” Rune asked in a murmur.
A wistful look crossed the man’s face. “To be honest, I haven’t known what to do with myself. I was sworn to protect Ilmenhith and its rulers. Now she rules nothing, and Ilmenhith is gone. I told myself I was staying close out of a sense of duty. But the more time I have to myself to think, the more I realize it’s because I don’t know what else to do.”
“Not an unusual predicament,” Garam said. “You’re a man of honor and responsibility. The honor means the responsibility always came first. No time for anything else, eh?”
“The way it usually is,” Tobias agreed. “I understand too well, myself.”
Rune tilted his head. “Have you married?”
“No. And you know my mother, so you know how much grief she’s given me over it, too.”
Garam flashed him a grin. “Maybe there’ll be time, now that you don’t have a mine to oversee.”
“By the Lifetree’s mercy,” Tobias said, and Garam and Ordin both chuckled.
The king stepped into the courtyard. Rune was the first to press a fist to his heart and bow, but the motion was mirrored quickly by the other men, while the mages—all women—curtsied.
“It seems we’ve reached an arrangement,” Vicamros announced. “The mage Temar will be assigned to the new settlement in Aldaan. She will select two Masters and four magelings to accompany her, and together, they will establish a new mage embassy wherever they land.”
Temar stepped up beside him and inclined her head to Tobias. “I am to serve your people as a whole until a leader is established over your new settlement, upon which point I will answer to them.”
Rune glanced past the king, to where Firal lingered just inside the palace. The smile she gave him was weak, uncertain, and made his stomach turn.
“I have several Masters and a handful of mages in mind already,” Temar continued. “We have only to summon them from the college. I trust the Masters who accompanied me on this visit shall be happy to carry word back with them.”
“Of course,” Rikka said.
Vicamros motioned for all of them to move inside. “Come, then. My mages are always ready to provide Gates. Any further details can be discussed as we venture that way.”
Rune craned his neck to see into the gardens, where Rhyllyn and Vivenne still sat among the lilies. When he looked back to the palace, Firal was gone.
“It’s been a pleasure to speak to you again,” Tobias said, stilling the uneasy thoughts that stirred in his head. “I hope we’re afforded the opportunity again soon.”
“Of course,” Rune replied. He was sure they would be.
One by one, the mages filed inside and disappeared into the wide hall that branched off the entryway. Temar looked back at them, as if asking who would follow. Tobias joined her, but her gaze shifted to Ordin before she turned to enter the palace again.
The captain watched after her, the wistful look back in his eyes.
Rune cleared his throat. “You said you don’t know what to do with yourself. I think I may have a suggestion.”
Sheepish, Ordin ducked his head. “Yes,” he murmured. “I think it’s about time.”
29
A New Home
By the time the festivities and council meetings ended and life returned to normal, the m
ornings and evenings had grown cool and crisp and the trees surrounding the manor had taken a golden tint.
Rune breathed deep and curled his fingers against the warm porcelain of his fine teacup. It was so smooth, and the cup’s foot was so unpleasant in texture it gave him goosebumps to touch it. He avoided doing that again.
Normal itself had changed. But at least he was home, no duties or responsibilities vying for his attention, no soul-deep longing sending him across the face of the world in search of help that wouldn’t come. Good smells came from the kitchen, and birds sang in the woods. The softest of breezes stirred his hair, begging him to venture farther outside, but he was barefoot, and he went no farther than the front steps.
He sipped his tea.
Rhyllyn and Minna had risen before him, which gave them the time they needed for Rhyllyn to show her around the kitchen and the rest of the estate. The boy was picky about how the kitchen was managed, but he’d been relieved when Minna announced her intention to stay at the manor. Vivenne, on the other hand, had not taken long to find somewhere else to be. When the first letter from Temar arrived, the news of orphans left by the island’s collapse and the illnesses that followed evacuation had been of little surprise. Ever the nurturer, Vivenne had been quick to volunteer to relocate and look after them. In some ways, Rune figured it was what she needed—a family to look after, to raise in place of what she’d lost.
Aside from Temar, the mages had been quiet. Alira was needed in the college, to act on behalf of the council and help Kytenia establish new leadership. That meant Rhyllyn would go with her. Alira wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have him educated by more college mages. And now there were temple mages, as well.
Little footsteps thumped across the parquet flooring behind him and Rune turned his head. A little round face peered out the open door, studying him with a certain look of consternation he’d already grown used to. Small as she was, she was no taller than his shoulder when he sat down on the front stairs.
He smiled, then returned his gaze to the trees.
Lulu wasn’t comfortable with him. Rune wasn’t comfortable with her either, truth be told. For all that he enjoyed children, he’d never been afforded many opportunities to be near them. But the dark-haired little girl was curious, and she’d grown bolder every time they crossed paths. They’d spent a week in the Royal City before returning to the quiet countryside. Now that they lived in his house, they crossed paths more often.
The toddler crept outside, gripping her skirt in both hands. She still wobbled when she walked, all pudgy and swaybacked as she was, but she was confident. She studied his face for a time before her bright violet eyes settled on the teacup in his hands. “Sip?”
Rune raised a brow and lowered his cup. “It’s hot.”
Undeterred, she leaned forward and blew on his drink.
“You’re a determined little thing, aren’t you?” He blew on it as well, then helped her cradle the cup in both hands.
“Just like her mother.” Firal stepped out, scooped the cup from their hands and replaced it with a wooden one full of water. “Don’t give her that. I’ve seen how much sugar you put in your drinks.”
Lulu drew back, held the cup on her own, and drank the water without knowing what she’d missed.
“I don’t put any in my whiskey.” He watched the child toddle back into the house with a faint smile. It was still unreal, seeing the girl in his home and knowing she was his flesh and blood. Knowing she belonged there.
“Well, you could stand to water it down a bit,” Firal said. “You drink like a fish.”
Rune’s smile faded. Lulu was warming up to him. Firal, on the other hand, had been cold and distant since they’d watched the fireworks from his balcony. At first he’d thought she might forgive him. She’d seemed so comfortable in his arms. The curve of her body had fit to his and reminded him too clearly what he’d missed. Then she’d pulled away without a word and they’d barely spoken since. He didn’t know what to think.
“Do you think they’ll be gone long?” Firal took a sip from the teacup in her hand without thinking. She grimaced at the taste.
“Alira and Rhyllyn?” He shrugged. “A few weeks, most likely. I don’t think it’ll take longer than that for Kytenia to establish a firm hold on the college.”
“So it’ll just be us for a while, huh?”
“Until you give Vicamros the answer he’s waiting for.” Rune didn’t like to think of her moving to a barony in Aldaan, but it was likely best if she did.
Firal folded her arms close to her chest and swirled the tea in the cup. “What happens if I go?”
He frowned at the question. It was as if she’d heard his thoughts. “You become a baroness, I suppose. You’d still have to deal with seeing me in meetings of council held in the Royal City. Until Vicamros releases me from the council, that is. Or his son does. I entered service with his father and I’m starting to think I’ll be trapped as advisor to a long line of Vicamroses.”
She laughed softly, the sound a sweet peal well-suited to go with the birdsong of early morning. “At least we’ll have Minna here to run the house. Goodness knows it’s been so long since I handled household affairs that I’d probably ruin the washing, or something like that.”
“Fortunately for me, most of my clothes are off with a seamstress to be hemmed.” A hint of bitterness colored his voice.
Firal giggled. “That really does bother you, doesn’t it?”
“It’s just strange. I spent more than a century walking around on a monster’s legs. I’ve never even owned socks.” He’d had shoes, once, so he couldn’t claim that. He’d owned boots he used to disguise his nature whenever he left Core. But he’d bound his feet with linen then, stuffed padding around his claws to keep them from wearing through the leather. As uncomfortable as shoes were, they were more comfortable than that.
“Well, Minna says she’ll teach me how to run a household again. She even said she’ll teach me to knit, so perhaps I’ll make you some.” Her tone was teasing, but the wicked sparkle in her eye said she meant it.
Rune stood and took his teacup from her hand. “I don’t know whether to thank you or be afraid. I’ve never had ten toes before. I’d prefer not to lose any to strangulation.”
“No promises,” Firal said. “In any case, I have a favor to ask before Rhyllyn and Alira leave.”
He downed the last of his drink in a few gulps. “Of me?”
“You might be needed, yes. I know Rhyllyn’s been practicing, but Gates don’t seem to come as easily to him as they did you.”
Rune hesitated. He’d tried little since breaking the Gate-stone, but his magic felt... different. The power was still there, but it didn’t answer his call easily. It still behaved as it did before, except if the seal on his Gift was still present, he couldn’t feel it. It didn’t react to magic or inflict pain as punishment as it had for decades. But what he could draw felt choked, like the force of a whole river reduced to the trickle through a crack in a dam.
“I’m not sure I can do that yet,” he said. “I haven’t regained that much strength.”
Firal nodded. “I’m not surprised. Nondar told me once that when a mage passes their limit and experiences the trauma that turns their hair white, it can take weeks for them to recover full use of their magic. Most mages exposed to the kind of power you were would have been burned out of existence.”
And non-mages, as well. Rune couldn’t keep the last vision of Vahn from his head. He’d said to stop. Had he known what would happen?
Rune swiped a hand through his hair. No one had said anything about the white wings that had begun to appear at his temples, but he knew everyone had noticed. “I may be able to help Rhyllyn open one. Otherwise, we may have to request aid from Roberian’s mage embassy. The province’s capital is a half day’s ride from here. Longer by carriage, but horses don’t have to stick to the main roads.”
“Very well. We’ll do what we must. I’ll ask Rhyllyn what he
thinks.” Firal slipped back into the house and followed the same path to the kitchen their daughter had taken.
Their daughter. Now that was a strange thought. Rune had tried not to dwell on his role in the girl’s parentage. Their shared blood couldn’t compensate for the years he’d been absent from her life. Vahn had been the girl’s father, not him. Rune—a man raised by a father who hadn’t sired him—understood that all too well.
Yet despite his best efforts to remain unattached, that blood sparked something unfamiliar in him. A deep attachment to the girl already clawed at his heart, fueled by a driving urge to protect her. He’d promised Vahn that he would protect her, protect both of them, but he didn’t know how long he could use that promise as an excuse to keep close. Already he’d found Firal in his study, borrowing a pen and ink to scribe a note to someone discussing the possibility of her barony in Aldaan. Aldaan wasn’t the problem; he was welcome anywhere in the Triad. But he’d laid his roots in Roberian and the thought of abandoning his estate was unpleasant.
No, that wasn’t it. He corrected himself with a shake of his head and carried his empty teacup to one of the polished wood tables in the sitting room.
It was the uncertainty that got him. If he knew Firal would accept him, he would have abandoned his home in an instant. The problem was that he didn’t know. Her cool demeanor likely wouldn’t change, and his promise was the only reason he had to stay near.
But his presence wasn’t necessary to guarantee her safety. Politics and power gave him enough leverage to ensure her protection from Roberian. They never needed to come face to face.
Yet there was the girl, her springy dark curls reminding him so much of her mother, with his eyes staring out of her cherubic face. The thought of being apart from her tore at him, but the thought of Firal’s hate for him still burned.
She denied it, but he’d seen it too clearly in her eyes.
He would not push.
The morning passed in peace. Rhyllyn scoured the house for his belongings, complaining now and then when he couldn’t find the shirt he wanted or misplaced a preferred instrument during packing. Minna worked, Lulu played with any number of trinkets she likely shouldn’t have touched, and Firal—well, Rune didn’t know what she was doing. She’d carefully avoided crossing his path again, though he could see her in the garden through the fine glass in the diamond-paned windows.
