by Anise Rae
It was the staff that clued Aurora in.
Goddess, gracious and powerful, this was no old woman. Those were not dark lashes beneath her closed eyes. No, those were stitches of black thread holding her eyes closed. Aurora shuffled back as fear roped her gut. She made it three steps before Edmund caught her around the waist.
He whispered in her ear, “I’m here with you. Right by your side.”
She nodded mindlessly. His touch stopped her fear from tightening further. A foolish reaction. Even Edmund couldn’t defeat the High Councilor.
The High Councilor of the Republic of Mage Territories waved in enthusiastic greeting. “Enchantress! Your snail’s pace heightens my anticipation of our time together.”
Time together? To do what? Torture her for violating the Law of—
“Block your thoughts. Think of nothing. Go blank.” Edmund doled out advice as he pulled her toward the Republic’s most powerful crone.
Every wrong thought raced forward, unstoppable in their apparent eagerness for her execution. Without her vibes, she had no defense. Fear pulled a tunnel of blackness around her, and her vision dimmed. As she swayed on her feet, a searing whiff of vinegar burst into her nostrils. Her senses reopened.
Ahead, the High Councilor waggled an eyebrow. The old woman had cast a spell sending the vicious scent to Aurora’s nose. Likely she preferred her victims conscious.
As Edmund and Aurora came closer, a young woman appeared in the open doorway of the statue’s base. She stepped out as if the city should applaud, grateful for her presence. Though her cape matched the High Councilor’s, she made sure to thrust her bare leg through the opening when she walked, revealing her sleekness. Despite the sneer on her face, she was stunning, and she knew it. As she strutted forward, Aurora rethought her age. A teen, not an adult. Her pale blond hair crowned her head in tight braids, her milky complexion equally perfect, minus the disdain.
“Enchantress,” the High Councilor said, “meet my apprentice.” The old woman rubbed the girl’s hair in a mockery of affection, leaving a spray of tangled strands in her wake. “She’s ready to rule our fine Republic the moment I croak and would like to help me on my way however she can. I like to take her on my rounds. Makes people appreciate me.”
The apprentice flicked her fingers against her hair and spelled it back to perfection. She looked Aurora up and down. “I’ve never met a girl raised in a junkyard before.” She shifted her gaze to Edmund. “And he’s so dark he must have been shat from the bowels of the Earth.”
Edmund bowed. “A rare find is your apprentice to make such observations, Lady High Councilor.”
The girl lifted her chin. “My power is far better than you can fathom.”
“Then how gracious you are to deem yourself a servant of the Republic,” Edmund smiled and tipped his head, the retorts flowing as if his tongue bore a non-stick spell. “The gratitude of the citizens must overwhelm.”
The High Councilor tilted her head. “Well put, young Edmund. Servants of the people. A humbling task.” She shifted her blind gaze to Aurora. “Though humility doesn’t always serve. Glitter and gold, when allowed into the light, sparkle far into the distance to touch many versus a mere few.”
Behind her, a man, dressed in the same pale gray of the High Councilor’s robe, stepped out of the statue’s opening. Another and then another poured out. Guards. Guards who could arrest or simply kill enchantresses who violated the laws. Aurora’s head spun only to encounter the acrid smell again. It went straight to her every nerve, jerking them stiff and brittle until they threatened to shatter.
“Go on, young prince. Lead this enchantress to the boat before she runs out of strength like a lily-livered liability.” The High Councilor gave an eerie chuckle.
“A cold day for a sail, Lady.” Edmund pulled Aurora along. She flattened herself to his side, so stiff that she lurched and wobbled with her first steps. He kept her steady.
The High Councilor walked at her other side. The young apprentice took up the rear. Aurora looked back. The calculating cruelty in the girl’s eyes was startling.
The old woman looked back over her shoulder at the girl and then turned her sightless gaze on Aurora. “Don’t mind her. Oracles. We take quite awhile to mature. It’s a serious investment of time to wring out their snootiness. The smarter they are, the longer they take. I’ve never known one to take so long. I recently acquired another oracle though, so if this apprentice doesn’t work out, I have a spare.”
Acquired. Horror sank through her. Some family had lost a child to the High Councilor. Aurora clung tighter to Edmund’s arm. A new tension vibrated through him as well, but he continued to guide her down the sidewalk and around City Hall, playing a game she wanted no part of.
Ahead, a small park spread out to the Scioto River’s bank. Through the bare trees, the river glimmered in the pale cloudlight, and the working replica of the Santa Maria bobbed in greeting with the wind.
From the corner of her eye, Aurora caught sight of a few thin strands of the High Councilor’s long white hair dancing high. It moved unnaturally, into the wind instead of with it. She turned back to see the apprentice smirking. The girl shifted her gaze to Aurora. She winked and let her spell become visible in the air. A stream of light led from the girl’s fingertips to the back of the High Councilor’s head. The powerful woman was oblivious.
“The new oracle,”—the apprentice spelled the words to Aurora’s ear—”he’s five days old today. So sweet. Poor baby.” The girl’s face drooped. It almost looked sincere.
Aurora shivered.
“The enchantress needs to warm herself,” Edmund stated. Though she was cold, he’d misread that shiver. “Would you consider returning her vibes?”
“You warm her,” the High Councilor croaked. “You’re a man of strength and power. Look at those legs you’ve got. Muscles!” She lifted her staff. Reaching behind Aurora, she poked his rear-end.
He jumped a foot off the ground.
The old woman cackled. “And what a fine gluteus maximus! I believe your mage power is even finer. So use it.” She sighed. “I remember a boy like you once. Drew me in with his flame, his fire. Smooth, meaty lines over every inch. Closer to a foot,” she cackled. “If you get my meaning.”
“Gross,” the girl intoned from behind them, stretching the word into two syllables.
“A foot long?” Edmund said. “Was his flame in a barbeque pit?”
Aurora elbowed his ribs. Hard. She was a peasant stuck in the middle of the byplay between the rulers of this kingdom, and her only ally had no censor.
The High Councilor barked a laugh. “Oh, the things I did with his spatula.” The crack of a whip sounded in the air, then again. No, not a whip. A spatula.
The crone’s wrinkled face smoothed to perfection, her silver hair drowned in deep, dark black—instant youth with mind-blowing beauty. And then it was gone, back to old. “Just yesterday, perhaps. But how should I know? When one has as many memories as I do, it’s hard to keep them straight.”
“I can help you keep them straight. Just give me those memories and the spells,” the apprentice offered. Aurora didn’t look back, knowing the girl’s eyes wouldn’t match the sweetness of her voice. “After all, I already have a few spells. I’m strong enough for the rest.”
The High Councilor pivoted toward her apprentice. Her face rippled beneath her skin. As her cheeks thinned and lengthened, her mouth opened, as if pulled by growing muscles. The pointy teeth of a beast appeared. The frightening countenance radiated inhuman fury.
Aurora stumbled, her breath lost as if those teeth had consumed it in an airy meal. Edmund grabbed her, yanking her away from the powerful pair.
“You have those spells because you stole them.” The High Councilor spoke slowly, as if her mouth struggled to form speech. She reached out to caress the apprentice’s fine skin with a pointy fingernail. “Do you want to try again? Did you not learn your lesson, my pretty? I
’m happy to go another round.”
The apprentice blanched, her eyes widening with terror. “No, my lady.” She dropped her head with the whisper.
The High Councilor took a simple breath, and her face resumed its normal shape. She turned around and resumed her pace and the conversation as if nothing untoward had occurred. “Of course, I struggle to keep my memories straight partly because I bury everything deep in the shadows of my soul.”
What were they talking about?
Aurora clenched at Edmund. He froze for a moment, as if he were pondering fleeing. She looked up at him, ready to run, but he shook his head in regret. He gripped her arm and dragged her three large paces to catch up with the old woman. Without his support she would have fled for home.
“For the good of my people, I can’t afford to wear my secrets written before me like an unfolded scroll, glittering truths for any old woman who might be inclined to don her reading glasses.”
Goddess, the High Councilor knew what she’d done. Doom lodged like a sideways wand in her throat, impossible to swallow down. She’d never fainted before. Another new experience for the day, she thought, as blackness crept forth. The vinegar scent swished into her nose. She revived whether she wanted to or not.
“Dark shadows are useful, enchantress. Their strength hides treasures. If you can’t cultivate your own shadows, someone needs to do it for you. Was it your idea or Edmund’s for you to wear his vibes?”
“Hers,” Edmund answered.
“Does she speak? Did that black cat steal her tongue?”
“Did you steal its life?” Naturally, Aurora’s voice returned just in time to seal her fate.
The High Councilor cackled again. “Oh, you do have potential!”
From behind them, the apprentice spoke up. “I doubt she’ll live up to it.” Her snotty voice carried clearly.
The old crone looked back over her shoulder at the girl and then stared at Aurora. “She doesn’t like many people,” she said in a stage whisper. “Don’t take it personally.”
No, it didn’t feel personal. It felt deadly. Why did the High Councilor put up with the girl?
“Because I’ve never seen such power. Most oracles get more than one true power, you know.”
She hadn’t.
“If she can harness it, she’ll drag the Republic in her wake of greatness. I’ve seen it.” She shrugged. “But there are many futures before us. Do you want to know one of your futures?”
Aurora shook her head madly. She didn’t want anything from this woman. She trembled as they crossed into the park and closed in on the river and its boat.
A small crowd of gawkers lined the grassy areas of the park, maintaining a healthy distance from the sidewalk and cheering for the leader of their Republic. The woman inspired enough fear that they wouldn’t dare creep closer. How had they found out she would be here?
“They didn’t know I’d be here. I’m a surprise. However, they did know you and Edmund would be here. It was in the newspapers, of course,” the High Councilor said.
Go blank. Blank. Blank.
“Of course not. A blank article wouldn’t have told them a thing. The story clearly stated the heir would escort his enchantress, whose social debut they attended together last night—see front page—on a morning sail on the Santa Maria.”
Game face.
“I’m sure your game face would be arresting...if you had one, that is.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Now quit shouting at me. Edmund, do something. Thicken your vibes over her. I had no idea how necessary those fabled towers are for enchantresses, for their own protection…and to protect those whose biding they follow.”
The apprentice dashed around the High Councilor to face them, skipping backwards as she spoke. “Why don’t you come home with us, enchantress?” The kind offer didn’t match the conniving sparkle in her eyes. She looked at the High Councilor. “We can keep her safe.”
“If we take her, who’s going to keep us safe from the wrath of Rallis?” the High Councilor demanded. “I need them moderately happy. Or at least moderately undecided to assassinate me.”
“Rallis.” The apprentice rolled her eyes again. She stopped skipping and turned her back on them. “It’s always Rallis.”
“Yes, it’s always Rallis and Bradford and Casteel and Noble and Winslowe. And all the other territories and families, whatever their names are. I can’t remember. I can’t know everything.”
“You can’t?” Edmund’s wry voice prompted a cocky sniff from the apprentice.
The High Councilor shook her head. “I wouldn’t need you two if I knew everything.”
The apprentice stomped off toward the boat, pulling ahead. That was fine with Aurora. The girl gave her the chills.
The three of them walked through the park, passing the monument that honored the heroes who’d died fighting against the enhanced, rogue mages in the uprisings. A tall, thin pyramid built of round pebbles—one for each life lost—were charmed into place and reached toward the sky, symbolizing the triumph of all-natural mages.
But Lily, Tera, and Izzy weren’t rogue. Aurora couldn’t stop the thought from tumbling into her mind. She gave a sideways glance to the High Councilor. The woman’s face didn’t hint at overhearing her mental ramblings.
They continued down the curving, sloped sidewalk to the Santa Maria. The plank extended, anticipating their approach up to the replica of Columbus’s boat. The apprentice strutted up to the boat’s deck and spun around to await them on board. Her regal pose made it appear as if she were already in charge.
The High Councilor stopped at the bottom of the plank. For a moment, Aurora thought she might reprimand the teen for her superior attitude. Instead, she spun to Aurora and wrenched her face with a sharp grip.
A short cry escaped her mouth. She tried to pull away, but the old woman’s grip was strong.
“You, Aurora Aster Firenze, are my servant from this moment forth.” Her fierce tone was laced with sharp power. “As I am the High Councilor, hand of the Republic, so, too, shall you be my hand.” The words shot into Aurora’s mind like a stream of poisoned smoke. “You will heed my commands, bow down to my laws. You will keep my silence. No knowledge of the fissures shall pass from you to anyone, except to the heir of Rallis.”
The words tightened around Aurora, an electrified lasso that would squeeze out her secrets, her power, her soul…slicing and molding her essence until the old woman was satisfied. A lifetime of pain compacted into a moment—just long enough for Edmund to wrap his arms around her and pull her against his body as she slumped. The hurt echoed through her every cell.
“Not fair, Lady.” Edmund’s hot anger pounded through Aurora as she lay against him. “She should have been offered a choice.”
“Fair? A choice?” The High Councilor’s words distorted the air. “She had a choice. She chose not to vow loyalty to Rallis. Had you done so, enchantress, the big boy could have protected you from that. But now that we have that out of the way, let’s fix some problems.” She clapped her hands. “Up, up we go!”
The High Councilor started up the plank to her apprentice. The girl was grinning as if she’d enjoyed Aurora’s pain. The guards followed their mistress to the boat. The sails unfurled in a triumphant spill, its crew at attention on the deck. The small crowd cheered, though Aurora was fairly certain they’d quiet down when she threw up. The way her nausea was returning surely that would happen at any moment.
“Oh, fine. Here.” The High Councilor’s grumble sounded in Aurora’s ear.
A wave of vibes washed over her. Her own vibes. They immediately settled in beneath Edmund’s energy. Aurora swallowed down her thanks. Her power should never have been stolen in the first place.
“Nonsense,” the woman threw her voice again. “You’re much too strong to risk being close to me without you pledging loyalty. Now you can’t hurt me. But I can still hurt you. Now get up here.” A spell laced the command.
&nb
sp; The old woman’s energy bounced around Aurora’s mind like knives enhanced with a jumping spell, slicing the chains that held her outrage in check at this entire farce. Aurora marched up the plank.
“Oh, look at her!” the apprentice smirked from her spot next to the High Councilor. “Somebody’s mad.”
Aurora ignored her. “That was not a pledge.”
“It was. The same one extracted from senators, their ascenders, and their heirs to uphold the Republic, its laws, its people, blah, blah, blah,” the old crone explained.
Aurora planted her feet against the wooden deck. “Pledges are offered. They’re sworn. They’re not ripped out of your gut like yesterday’s lunch.”
The High Councilor’s cackle returned. “How did you describe it, Edmund? Refresh my overloaded memory. Ah, I remember. You said it felt like I’d ripped your future children from your balls. The most honest response I’ve ever gotten from the pledge, although yesterday’s lunch isn’t bad.”
The wind chose that moment to give Aurora a push from behind, as if encouraging her. “The Republic has some crappy laws. Some are so rigid, it’s a wonder anyone can follow them. What if I don’t want to uphold them all?” She regretted the words the moment they left her lips.
The apprentice laughed, high and pretty. “Oh, I’m going to miss her when she’s dead. Are you sure we can’t keep her for awhile?”
The High Councilor strode forward until her cape brushed Aurora’s dress.
Goddess, help me.
The old woman stroked a finger down Aurora’s face. “Yes, someone needs to help you.”
* * * *
Edmund slid his arm around his enchantress’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. He didn’t want the High Councilor touching her anymore. She’d touched Aurora’s face twice now. It would be a simple matter for her to bury a spell on his sweet enchantress…his sweet enchantress who kept baiting the old crone. He rested his hand close to her throat, easy access to cover her mouth.
