Mages and traitors in Hálendi. Assassins in Turia. Restless Riigans. Could they all be connected?
Enzo sat back and crossed his legs, his ankle resting on his knee. “Exactly. We don’t think he was lying, so I’d go with the puppet theory. Luc is searching Sennor’s room. Perhaps something there will lead to the instigator.”
“And his guard?” I’d be interested to see what information they could get out of him. He’d been waiting for an attack.
Enzo leaned to one side, resting his arm on the chair. “We haven’t been able to glean anything from him yet. But I’m hopeful we can get him talking. His belongings will be searched as well. When we’ve finished, they will both be escorted from Turia.”
“But how will this affect our kingdoms’ relationship?” Chiara asked, rubbing a spot on her blanket. “The only reason I accepted Sennor’s invitation was to avoid offending Riiga.”
Marko squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “Ambassador Koranth was full of his usual bluster. I will handle Riiga. In the future, if you feel uncomfortable, you decline.”
Chiara swallowed thickly, then nodded.
I added Ambassador Koranth to my list of people in the palace to watch. “What about Chiara’s personal guard?”
Enzo shook his head. “He still hasn’t returned.”
Chiara rested her chin on her knees. “I can’t hide in here forever.”
Marko kissed her head, then started toward the door. “You will tell anyone who asks that you had a headache today. We’ll find you another guard, and—”
Chiara shook her head. “I want Aleinn.”
Me? I’d barely gotten there in time; I’d almost failed her. Failed another friend. Yet she asked that I protect her? Standing with her would put me in a more visible position. Could I risk it? Then again, it wasn’t likely anyone would recognize the Hálendian princess who never left her castle.
Enzo put both hands on the armrests and pushed himself up. “Luc could find someone…”
Marko shook his head, studying me like he had in the throne room. “How did you know Chiara was in trouble?”
I lowered my hands to my lap, twisting the silken blanket between my fingers. “I don’t know, exactly. A lot of little details that added up. Something just felt…wrong.”
His lips twisted to the side as he thought, but he eventually nodded. “You will take care of her. We’ll find you a uniform—I want everyone to know she is guarded, and that her protector is…vigilant.”
He strode out of the room, a dark thundercloud of crackling tension.
Enzo sat by his sister, slinging his arm around her shoulders. It reminded me so much of my brother my heart threatened to trip out of rhythm again.
“If you need anything,” he told her, “Aleinn will be close by, and I’ll always have your back, no matter what, okay?” She smiled and nodded against his shoulder.
I quietly got up and put on my boots.
“Aleinn?” Chiara asked. The tiniest sliver of fear threaded into her question.
“I’m just going to the healing chambers, then I’ll return,” I said, and slipped out. I felt too much like an intruder. I couldn’t watch her and Enzo without remembering Ren and the million times we’d shared a similar moment. I couldn’t watch them without remembering that I would never have another moment like that with my brother again.
I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall next to the door, closing my eyes against the grief that flared up. And then I took another. My hand found my pocket and wrapped around the book that always stayed with me. The door suddenly clicked shut.
“Leinn?” He said the name like a question, and I opened my eyes, but I wasn’t sure what question he was asking. Searching his face, I wasn’t sure if he knew, either.
I smiled, though I knew it didn’t reach my eyes.
“You miss your brother.”
My smile faltered, and I nodded. I didn’t have the energy for more than that. I ached for my father as well. For my home. I couldn’t escape the pain from the tethers.
He didn’t say anything. I think he knew there was nothing that could be said just then. We were standing in a hall, after all.
“Thank you,” he whispered. My lungs were tight, and my mind was trying to catch up to what he was thanking me for. He took a step closer and touched my arm, his deep-green eyes pouring into mine. “I owe you more than I can ever repay. As does my sister.”
One moment he was there, so close I could feel the heat from his body, his touch like fire on my arm. The next he was striding down the hallway like he’d rather be anywhere else. I took a shuddering breath and wondered if I was still feeling effects from the poison.
Either way, every time I saw him, spoke with him, he made me wish for something that could never be.
Ren’s name had completely faded from his book. I cradled it in my hands as I sat on my new bed in my new room—which was more of a closet, really—next to the princess’s suite. The brown uniform I wore itched against my legs, the trousers tighter than I was used to.
I pulled Irena’s bag from the shelf on the wall and unlatched the flap. My old gray uniform. Irena’s sweater. I kissed the cover of Ren’s book and tucked it between the folds of fabric. They’d be safer in Yesilia’s room, but I couldn’t bear to part with them, despite the threat from whoever had tried to poison me.
A tiny mirror hung by the door, and I checked that my braid had stayed tight. I already missed the scarf. Chiara, as princess, would garner attention wherever she went. I, as her Hálendian guard, would share that attention. If Graymere found out I was still alive, he would come for me. And now that I was more visible, I worried over just how soon he’d get here. But at least Chiara spent some of her day studying in the library. I needed to find out everything I could about the Gray Mage before I faced him again. Before it was too late.
I gathered the books Yesilia had had me borrow for her and stepped into the hall to await Chiara. A tiny clock had started ticking in the back of my mind. It had been three days since I realized the mage had a personal vendetta against my family. A week since Enzo, Luc, and I had killed his shades, and almost a month since Graymere had attacked.
A month. What had the mage been doing? What did he want, other than revenge on my family?
Chiara’s door opened. I quieted my thoughts and straightened my posture. Two maids came out and they both nodded respectfully. My brow furrowed, and I stared after them as they made their way to a back stairway.
“You’ve earned their favor,” Chiara murmured. “For saving me.”
I tilted my head. “Oh.” I’d never in my life been respected by servants. They must really admire Chiara for me to be so quickly accepted. “We start in the library today, right, Princess?”
“Yes, but please call me Chiara,” she said, and walked down the hall toward the main stairs. I almost told her that as her guard I couldn’t, but how many had told me that? How many times had I wished for one solitary person who wasn’t a relative to call me by name?
We entered the sanctuary of the library, and Chiara went to a table in the corner with her tutor. I tracked my way back to the shelf I’d taken Yesilia’s books from. I didn’t know where to start. Which other books to choose.
“Can I help you find something?” Master Romo asked from the end of the row.
The time had passed to work out Graymere’s mystery on my own, and Yesilia’s words about healers and magic in Turia swirled in my head. With a deep breath, I said, “Yes, actually. I…I’m looking for anything on the ancient mages.”
Romo set his load of books down nearby. “Information on magic, or on the original mages from the Great War?” He came over and eyed me closely.
“The original mages,” I replied, and gripped my one book harder but handed him Yesilia’s two to reshelve in the correct place.
�
�I see you’ve already read some of Scribe Jershi.” He put Yesilia’s books back in their spots, then set his hands on his hips, eyes lit with the challenge of finding information. “This is the bulk of his work.” He tapped his finger against his mouth. “Mages, you say?” He pulled out several books and handed them to me, then retrieved a few more. I led the way to a table where I could see the door and Chiara, set my load down, then slumped into the chair, hands on the table.
So many books. I’d never get through it all before the mage found and killed me.
“If you tell me what exactly you are looking for, I could help, Miss Aleinn,” he said as he added his stack to mine. Romo took a seat and waited. Longing for home stole my breath—how many times had my tutors, or even Ren, offered to help just like this?
“Thank you, Master Romo. But I…I don’t really know.”
He pointed at a few books in front of him. “Well, these carry the history of the mages, who they were before the Great War.” He touched another. “Their warfare tactics. And this one, a particular favorite of mine, tells of their powers and artifacts. Or—”
“That one,” I said, taking the last book he’d mentioned from the stack. I twisted the ring around my finger in my lap. “Why is it your favorite?”
He scooted the tome closer to me and stood. “Read it.” His eyes gleamed as he went back to work.
I flipped it open, my finger dragging down a page and flipping to the next as I skimmed the information. When Chiara finished her lessons, I’d have to stay with her—
My breath caught in my throat.
The mages stored power—and sometimes some of their life force—in artifacts. When wielding these artifacts in battle, their energy would then be twice what they normally had access to. The Black Mage wielded a crystal staff, the Gray Mage wielded a silver sword, and the Red Mage wielded a gold dagger.
I rubbed my forehead and put my elbows on either side of the book. “How could anyone hope to win against such a force?” I whispered.
Channeling power into an artifact both strengthens and weakens the mages, however. Though they are stronger with their artifacts, they are weak without them. A mage without an artifact becomes like a broken vessel trying to hold water: the faster you pour water in, the faster in leaks out, and the wider the cracks become.
The mage in the Wild, the Gray Mage. His scabbard had been empty. He’d used a knife on Aleinn, and a borrowed sword on Hafa.
Emperor Gero defeated the mages after he stole both the crystal staff and the silver sword, which were then used against them. The Black Mage was destroyed; the rest fled.
Fled here. To the Plateau. And Kais followed.
Ice and snow and all the glaciers. Graymere’s scabbard had been empty. He wanted his sword. He was looking for the mages’ library.
The burned note I’d found so long ago had mentioned a search for it, a search my father hadn’t authorized. I put my hand over my mouth and sat back. Had the traitor in Hálendi been working with the mages? And then they’d declared war on Turia because…Well, I wasn’t sure why.
“That must be some book if the most vigilant person on the Plateau didn’t notice me come in,” an all-too-familiar voice said as the prince pulled out the chair Romo had been in.
I checked on Chiara—still studying. “I…yes” was all I could say. Between the mages, the assassin on the loose, and Enzo choosing a new betrothed, I needed to keep him at a distance.
He rubbed his hand on his leg. A door shut somewhere on the balcony. “Listen, Aleinn, there’s really no good way to tell you this.”
My heart sank. What else could go wrong? “Tell me what?”
“Hálendi has launched their attack at Fjall Pass.”
My face crumpled at this news, and I bowed my head. So soon? How had they mobilized their troops to cross the Wild so quickly? Unless the traitor had been planning this for some time. And if the traitor was in league with Graymere, did that mean he’d be nearby as well?
He set his hand on my back, a reassuring weight, and then it was gone. “I just wanted to warn you to be careful.”
I nodded, numb, even as everything spun out of control. “I’m sorry.”
He let out a sigh that ruffled the pages of my book. “It’s not your fault they decided to attack.”
I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun trying to shine through a thin layer of clouds. It was my fault. They were fighting because my father and brother were dead. Because they believed me dead. But I couldn’t reveal myself yet. Graymere’s scabbard had been empty, but even so, he’d defeated Hafa as though the weapons master were a novice.
Enzo’s touch on my shoulder brought my gaze back to him, but he held in whatever he wanted to say. Chiara was with a different tutor now—they spoke quietly, their soft murmuring creating a hum of privacy around Enzo and me.
“Where is Luc this morning?” I asked, trying to forget the warmth of his hand.
“He’s working with Yesilia to dispatch healers in preparation for refugees and wounded soldiers throughout Turia.”
I pursed my lips and nodded. As prince heir, Enzo would probably be responsible for the war efforts here—organizing the shelter, food, and water stores.
Again, he looked like he wanted to tell me something. Instead, he nudged my open book. “It’s a tale of some forbidden romance, isn’t it?” He tugged on my braid, teasing me like Ren used to do.
My surprised laughter escaped, and it echoed around the quiet room. He smiled and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. A forbidden romance was the first thing he thought of? Did he, could he, feel this connection between us?
“If only it were,” I sighed. His eyes caught mine and held them. I ran my hand across the book, debating what I should tell him. “It’s about the ancient mages from the Great War.”
He exhaled and rested his arm on the table. “With Riiga and the council and my sister’s attack, I’d almost forgotten about the mage.”
And the ball, too, I added internally. A new betrothed.
“How serious are the problems with Riiga?” I asked. “Do you truly think the incident with Sennor was a deliberate attempt to start a war?” I winced. “I mean, another war?”
Enzo nodded, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs. “I do. Koranth has been meeting with my father’s advisors in private. Weekly.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And King Marko allows this?”
Enzo ran his hands through his hair, making the curls stand up all over. “We can’t afford to agitate the Riigans too much.”
Turia’s land was wide and well protected, with the Wild to the north and the cliffs to the south. “With Hálendi’s attack,” I said, “now would be the perfect time for Riiga to strike.”
“Exactly,” he said. “But I don’t want to worry about that right now.” He leaned back again in his chair as if he didn’t have anywhere else to be, although I’m sure he did. “Did you find anything helpful in the book?”
I fiddled with the end of my braid as a sharp ache swelled inside—I was alone, even sitting next to the man I should feel closest to.
“I think we aren’t dealing with just any mage.” I took a deep breath and lowered my voice, even though no one was close enough to hear us. “I think he’s one of the Black Mage’s original followers. Graymere.”
“I—” Enzo paused. “Is that even possible? He’d be centuries old.”
I pulled a different text closer, and we leaned over it. My shoulder brushed his, and fluttering erupted in my stomach. “The description of the Gray Mage—Graymere—matches the man at the ambush exactly.”
“It could be a coincidence. Someone trying to create more fear by impersonating him.”
I nodded once and flipped the page quickly but carefully. “Yes, but hardly anyone knows about the mages of old. It’s not exactly
common knowledge. And look at this description of Graymere’s shades.”
He scooted his chair closer to mine so he could read what I pointed to. His eyes went wide.
“So you think Graymere found a way to be preserved ever since the Great War, and is making some sort of move now?”
I tugged at the loose collar of my uniform. “I…Well, yes. I do.”
He ran his hand over his mouth. “Cavolo,” he cursed. “We definitely don’t have the resources to fight against Riiga, Hálendi, and an ancient mage.”
I mindlessly ran my hand down the length of my braid, and he followed the movement with his eyes. “And there might be more than just him,” I muttered, wishing I knew exactly what we were facing.
“How many more?”
I swallowed and wrapped my braid around my hand. “At least two.”
He cursed under his breath. “But why kill the Hálendian royal family?” he said. “And why now?”
I explained the legend of the mages’ library, how it was thought to hold the remnants of magic from the Great War. How Graymere’s scabbard was empty. “We always heard about it as some mystical treasure—the magic of old. But if it truly does exist and contain the mage’s artifacts, it’s more of a curse than a blessing.”
He looked at the books surrounding us and rubbed the back of his neck. “Where would some place like that even be hidden?”
I thought about the maps I had studied, how much uncharted territory there still was on the Plateau. I straightened my shoulders. “Well, there’s got to be information on it somewhere. Every buried treasure needs its hiding spot marked. We just have to find the record of it.”
Enzo touched my hand. “I can’t get away much from meetings and other…events,” he said with a grimace, “but I’d like to help.”
“Do you think we should tell your father?” I asked. There were so many pieces in play; all three kingdoms rested on a precipice, and even the smallest nudge could send the whole Plateau tipping into chaos.
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