North chuckled. “Maybe she just likes me better than you, Ollie.”
This is Oliver, I thought, the very same one I had been hearing about for so long. His dark hair was perfectly trimmed, and he was shorter and stockier than North. With that uniform and loud voice, he had seemed much older at first glance. But now I saw the way his teeth ground together when North spoke and how his hands were fidgeting with the red fabric braided into the hilt of his sword.
“This routine of yours ceased to be amusing when we were children,” Oliver said. “You’ll come with me and avoid making a fool out of yourself in front of your kind.”
“I’ll go with you, but only because I have something to say to her as well,” North said. “Owain, will you take Syd upstairs when you’re done? I’ll be back a bit later.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but North was faster.
“Go with Owain,” he said to me in a tight voice. “I’ll make sure she understands.”
I stood, grabbing my bag in defiance. North looked as if he was about to reach across the table and give me a hard shake.
“Lass,” Owain said slowly. “The lad will be all right, and we can get a good night’s rest.”
Oliver was staring right at me, his eyes burning. When he spoke again, his voice was hard and unyielding.
“Bring the girl, too.”
North refused to look at me as we left the Good Queen, but he took my arm as we stepped out into the dark, emptying streets. His cloaks were once again tied around his neck.
Instead of going through the inner gate of the castle, we made a sharp turn toward another building at the far end of the street. It had been styled in the same ancient way as the castle, with dozens of columns lining its grand entryway.
“I thought she’d be in the castle,” North said to Oliver.
“In case it slipped your mind, Wayland, there is a war going on,” Oliver said sharply. “While you’ve been prancing around the countryside, we’ve been preparing for it.”
“I’m trying to feel sorry for you, really, I am,” North said. “If you wait just a moment, I’m sure the tears will come.”
“Oh, shut up!” Oliver burst out. He started to whirl around but seemed to catch himself. His hands clenched in fists at his side, and he picked up his pace.
Quite the temper, I thought. My eyes drifted down once more to the red hilt of his sword before I glanced at North. “Where are we?” I whispered, gazing up at the statues of Astraea lining the roof of the building.
“The Wizard Command,” North said. “The center of operations for all of the world’s wizards, including the island nations.”
“And the Sorceress Imperial is in charge of all of the wizards?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why I had thought her command was limited to the wizards of Palmarta. North simply nodded, his eyes falling to his black boots.
“Listen, I’m sure you know this, but the Wizard Command has always served under the royals as their protectors and servants,” North said in a low voice. “But there’ve always been a few high-ranking wizards who believe that the Command should function independently and be granted full control over military affairs.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. Oliver glanced back, as if to make sure we were still following him.
“So you’ll understand why this isn’t going to be easy,” North said. “I think the Sorceress Imperial sees the queen as an easy target. Queen Eglantine is young and inexperienced, and this is the best opportunity the Command has had in years to bully a royal into becoming a puppet, rather than a leader. To shift the balance of power, possibly forever.”
“I understand,” I said.
“What are you two talking about?” Oliver called. His eyes flicked back and forth between us, and I saw that his left hand was fiddling with the hilt of his sword again.
“About how lovely and wonderful you are, Ollie,” North said. Oliver’s face colored, and he turned on his heel. I shot North a look, but he only shrugged his shoulders and followed him.
Passing a small crowd of wizards, we came through an elaborately carved entryway of statues and murals. The wizards’ heads were bent in serious discussion, but a few glanced up as we passed.
A long line of wizards was waiting in front of a desk set up in the middle of the chamber. Each looked more miserable than the next. Despite the crowd, the wizard at the desk did not appear hurried.
“Your assignment is ground soldier. You will report here at dawn every morning for further instructions.” The man crossed the name from the list. “Next wizard!”
We walked past the line and continued down the long hall. North tried to keep his face hidden, but I had the sneaking suspicion that we were gathering more and more looks as we proceeded. Oliver seemed to relish it, taking long, confident strides down the marble floor.
How can he have such a high position, I wondered, and at such a young age?
“It’s a ceremonial position,” North replied, and I realized I had spoken aloud. “At eighteen, there’s almost no chance he’d be ranked as number two, but he was given it when the Sorceress Imperial appointed him to that position. She’s grooming him to succeed her.”
After passing a dozen or so doors, we came to a stairwell carpeted in lush, crimson velvet. There was an enormous stained-glass window on the landing, depicting famous wizards throughout the ages. The upstairs hallway was a mixture of portraits and more stained glass, but North and Oliver were walking so quickly that I couldn’t stop to examine them.
Another stairwell. There was only one door at the top. Oliver raised his hand and gave a sharp knock.
“Come in, please,” called a woman’s voice. Oliver opened the door and strode in. When North didn’t move, I gently pushed him forward.
“Now, Wayland,” she said.
North gave me a quick look. “Don’t hate me,” he said. “I’m nothing like her, I swear. I didn’t tell you before, because I didn’t want you to think even worse of me. She may be my blood, but there’s no love lost between us.”
“What?” I followed him inside, closing the heavy door behind me. A few scattered candles cast a halo of light around a desk, but otherwise the room was as dark as the night sky. A woman with long, dark hair stood by one of the open windows. She was wearing a stunning robe of dark purple with a mantle of gold over her shoulders. There was a small smile on her face—one that seemed vaguely familiar.
“Well?” she said.
Oliver stood off to the side, smirking.
“Hullo, Mother,” said North, looking down at his boots.
“She seems surprised.”
I stood rooted to the ground, unable to move even if I had wanted to. The Sorceress Imperial’s brow wrinkled into deep creases and she seemed to go into a trance. I flinched away from her hand, my breath caught somewhere in my throat as her warm fingers came up to gently brush my cheek. At the touch, the spell broke. North stepped between us and gave her a disbelieving look. Even Oliver looked surprised.
The woman recovered from her strange daze, and the severity in her eyes quickly returned.
“He told me you were dead,” I said.
Oliver let out a short laugh.
“I did not!” North said.
“You said that both your parents had left you, or something!”
“Yes, well, left doesn’t always mean dead, you see,” North said. He turned back to his mother. “Just a misunderstanding.”
“In that case.” The woman held out her hand. “My name is Hecate Aisling.”
“Sydelle Mirabil,” I said weakly, shrinking away from her tight grip.
She clucked her tongue at North, walking back around her desk. “I suppose you’ve come to see if you could fight?”
“I’ve brought you information to prevent the war,” North said. “And what’s with Aisling? You’ve forsaken Father’s last name?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Wayland,” she said. “I’ve only recently finished reviewing the complaints fi
led against you by Mr. Genet after that little stunt you pulled in Dellark.”
“So is it jail or a written apology this time?” North asked petulantly.
“Was it necessary to ‘savagely brutalize’ Genet in your duel?” Hecate asked calmly.
“Well, he was rather annoying,” North said, as if that explained everything. “You would have hit him, too.”
“Your behavior is shameful and inexcusable,” Hecate said. “Yet again you’ve proven yourself to be more of an animal than a wizard.”
I took a step forward, but North’s hand stopped me. “This animal has brought you information,” he said.
He reached into his bag and removed the envelopes tied with yarn from his book. Hecate held out her hand for them, but he threw them on the desk. She shook her head as she ripped the envelopes open, holding the paper close to the light. Oliver tried to read over her shoulder until she waved him away.
“Reuel Dorwan was the one to poison the king. I don’t think Auster was involved at all,” North said. “It’s an old hedge witch poison, not something out of their kingdom. He wrote it and the antidote down for me years ago, when I was traveling with him.”
“I suppose you thought this was going to earn you favor?” Oliver asked, disgusted.
“No,” North said. “But I would have appreciated a little respect.”
“Is that why you brought me this information?” Hecate asked, finally passing the sheets of paper to Oliver.
“I brought it to help convince you that there’s no need to fight, and to warn you that dozens of villages like Cliffton have been invaded and set up as camps for Saldorran and Auster armies,” North said, placing both hands on her desk and leaning forward. “Though something tells me you couldn’t care less.”
Oliver let out a bark of laughter. “Dorwan? That loon who was in here, making all kinds of threats after the Guard refused to rank him? That’s rich, even for your imagination.”
Hecate shook her head. “Are you truly naïve enough to think we’ll believe this? That I’ll just take your word on the poison? I know you spent time with him when you were younger. He told me that much when I met him, but I sincerely doubt he has the ability to mix that kind of potion. You’ll need a better excuse than that.”
“The negotiations won’t end for another day,” North said. “If you tell them it was a mistake and recall the declaration of war—”
“The negotiations never have and never will take place,” Oliver said, throwing the papers down on the Sorceress Imperial’s desk.
“What are you saying?” North asked.
“The information you brought us, if any of the commanders will believe the word of an unranked wizard, will, perhaps, force some of the other countries to consider coming to our aid. But this war will be fought regardless of your hedge rubbish,” Hecate said. “Our plans have been in place for weeks now. You are the only one who does not want to see this through at last and rid ourselves of the threat from Auster once and for all.”
“And what about the queen?” North said. “What does the queen have to say about your plans?”
“The queen needs to sit up in her chambers and mind what I say,” Hecate said, “as her husband should have done.”
“So you’ll let them invade the country,” I said, my voice trembling, “and destroy all of the villages, the towns, the homes and families—”
“Control your pet, Wayland,” Oliver said. “No one speaks to the Sorceress Imperial in that tone.”
“If you must know,” Hecate said. “We’ve already been presented with this information by Cliffton’s proxy, who arrived three days ago. He received the same answer you did. There is simply nothing else to discuss on this matter.”
“No!” I said. “We didn’t come all this way for you to tell us you never intended to seek peace in the first place! What kind of leader purposely sends the people of her country to their deaths? Don’t you understand what we went through to give you this information? Can you even imagine what my family has been going through every day since you failed to stop the Salvalites from invading?”
Hecate clucked her tongue, studying me with cold eyes.
“Mirabil, was it?”
I nodded, swallowing hard.
“That’s the name of the elder from Cliffton, is it not?”
“He’s my father,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Have you ever stopped to consider what use Cliffton is to this country?” she asked. “So far west it might as well be in Saldorra—no commerce, nothing but sand. You came here for purely selfish reasons, to save a village whose loss would be a necessary sacrifice.”
“That’s out of line, even for you,” North said coldly. I was too furious to speak. “What will it do to those people when they discover they’re considered by the wizards to be nothing more than a wall of bodies, an inconvenience for an enemy army to cut through? Don’t you feel any compassion for them at all?”
Hecate’s gaze on her son never wavered.
“This is our chance to assert some control over the leadership of this country,” she said. “Finally, after years of subservience to human kings, there’s a chance for us to exert our own policies.”
“Oh? And how do you plan to enforce this policy when the Guard is overwhelmed by Auster?” North asked. “Are you going to send dozens, maybe even hundreds of wizards to their deaths just so you can speak up at the Elder’s Council?”
“Better to die than to live under an Auster king!” Oliver shot back. “You don’t understand because you have loyalty only to yourself!”
“I have loyalty to the people of Palmarta, and I’m loyal enough not to fight a war to satisfy the greed of the wizard leaders!” North yelled. “What’s the matter with you? Magister would be disgusted by what you’ve become!”
“Take that back!” Oliver shouted, his hand on the hilt of his talisman.
Hecate stood, slamming both hands on the surface of her desk. The two wizards broke apart at once. “Commander Swift, go tell the palace officials that Miss Mirabil and my son will be staying there for the next few nights under my jurisdiction.”
“Absolutely not!” both wizards shouted at once.
Hecate pointed toward the door, the air around her heating dangerously with magic. Oliver shot an irate glare in North’s direction before storming away and slamming the door behind him. North whirled back around to face his mother, his cloaks billowing out behind him.
“We’re leaving the city tonight,” North said stubbornly. “I’ve given you my information. I’d rather go back and defend the sacrifices than stay here and watch you get yourselves killed.”
North took a step back just as Hecate reached for him.
“Don’t,” he told her, and her hand fell away. “Just…don’t.”
“You have no choice,” she said firmly. “They’re closing the gates and restricting access, in order to set up the city’s defense. I have other plans for you and your friend.”
North didn’t say a word—just picked up the wooden chair beside him and threw it against the ground. My lips parted in surprise.
“How very mature of you,” Hecate said calmly. She sat down again, folding her hands atop the desk.
“I’m not ranked, so you have no control over my magic,” North seethed. “You won’t use either of us!”
“You should have thought about that before coming into the city,” she said. “If you won’t listen to me as the Sorceress Imperial, then you will listen to me as your mother.”
“You haven’t been my mother in twelve years,” North said. “Not since Father died.”
She didn’t even flinch. “You have no idea how difficult this has been for me, Wayland. This title and position weren’t handed to me. I had to fight my way up every single day to bring honor and power back to our family. Funny how living with your magister all those years has caused you to forget that.”
“I’m sure Father would love to have seen you like this, destroying the country he
cherished to take more power for yourself,” North said cruelly. “What a waste—just like it was a waste that he died saving me, correct? Just like I’m a waste, because I haven’t been ranked or done anything with my life. Isn’t that the real reason you’ve been fighting so hard to bring honor back to the family?”
“I knew it was a mistake to send you to Pascal,” she said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have honored your father’s request. I should have kept you here, where I knew you’d be raised properly.”
“We’re not staying in the city,” North said again.
“You will, or I will throw you both in jail,” Hecate said. “You won’t take a step out of the city with that girl before I send every wizard at my disposal after you.”
North looked murderous. “Is that all?”
Hecate sat back down at her desk, picking up a piece of paper. “I expect to see you at the castle tonight for dinner, Wayland. Find Oliver to see where you’ll be quartering.”
“Yes, Mother,” North said mutinously.
He took my hand in a crushing grip and pulled me along after him. I glanced back over my shoulder, unsure if I should say something. I saw Hecate press her hand to her eyes just before North slammed the door shut behind us.
We practically flew down the hallways. I now knew why the wizards around us stopped to stare; it wasn’t simply because of our appearance or the anger radiating off North. It was because North was the son of the most powerful wizard in Palmarta. Everyone knew his story—his past, his failures.
Everyone but me.
I let North lead me outside and around the building, through a small back alleyway, and into a small, neglected garden. There were marble benches and statues, but the fountain in the center of the small enclave was dried out and filled with dirt, and the flower beds around us had withered to brown.
He sat down heavily on the nearest bench and finally released my hand. For a moment I was too stunned to do anything other than watch the labored rise and fall of his chest. I wished I could see his face, but it rested in his hands.
“Forgive me,” he said through his fingers.
I knelt beside him, gently pulling his hands away. “What’s there to forgive?”
Brightly Woven Page 17
