Court of Shadows

by Miranda Honfleur

  She had to learn all she could about what the trials might be.

  Despite her skill and her commitment to magic and the Divinity, it seemed unlikely she’d be invited to test for magister, especially when there had been no word of her unsanctioned mission breaking the siege in Courdeval, freeing Olivia, or committing to defend Jon from Shadow the night of Veris. All the while in the Divinity’s employ, she’d taken steps that would warrant at least inquiry, but likely reprimand.

  She’d received neither.

  And then discovering these trials had no rules? The Grand Divinus had said it was suited to the circumstances of a post-Rift world, but mages were precious resources. Why risk them with no rules? Anyone could kill anyone, during the trials, outside of them, in any way. How would that prove anything other than dishonor and underhandedness?

  Just how stupid are you, Favrielle? Shadow’s words echoed in her head anew. You didn’t think it strange that “pirates” attacked and didn’t kill anyone? Not even as a show of force?

  Setting down her quill, she leaned back in her chair.

  What if Shadow was right? What if the Divinity had attacked Laurentine? A black operation meant to compel an éveil…

  What if there had been many more of these attacks?

  If the Divinity would deceive, attack, and kill for nefarious purposes like that, where would its ethical boundaries lie? Would it be party to a regicide, as Jon had said Sincuore asserted?

  If that were true, perhaps she’d gotten too close, learned too much, for the Divinity to let alone. Perhaps these trials would be a trap intended to kill her, something easily explained, instead of some shadowy assassination that would raise more questions.

  If Sincuore was lying, perhaps this was something else… She’d ignored the Divinity for the sake of her unsanctioned missions. She’d interfered with the siege, with Olivia, with Shadow instead of asking the Divinity’s orders.

  Was this her “inquiry”? Thrown into a whirlwind with other delinquents, with death or serious injury as “reprimand”?

  Somehow, she’d become an undesirable, and no matter the reason, there was a very real possibility these Magister Trials were her dance with death.

  But there was no turning back now, not after last night. She’d prepare, she’d win, and the Grand Divinus would have to deliver mages to Jon or publicly renege and lose face. No matter the Divinity’s ethics, the average mage had to be good, or good enough to help protect innocent people from Immortals and pirates. That’s who would be sent—people like her, Leigh, Olivia. Like Rainier and Berny. She hadn’t been well liked at the Tower, but the mages there weren’t bad.

  Other than its current interim Proctor. She sighed.

  Focus on the trials. One thing at a time.

  Even if the Grand Divinus wanted her dead, many others had wanted the same before. And they now slept in the dirt. This was just another mission, and once she completed it, she’d begin the next: setting right all that was wrong with the Divinity, from the inside—from the Magisterium.

  With a nod to herself, she reached over and opened the drapes just a bit more, trying to cast a little more sunlight over her book.

  A groan came from the bed, then a shuffling of sheets. Brennan held a pillow over his face. “Rielle,” he croaked, “why in Nox’s name are you awake before the damned birds are?”

  She grinned. “I have work to do. The Magister Trials aren’t going to research themselves.”

  A lengthy sigh. “Come here,” he whispered, and she could hear the smile in his muffled voice. “I’ll tell you something about the trials.”

  He was in a playful mood, then. Last night, he’d been different, unlike himself, his touch so gentle, so affectionate, accepting. She’d had a strange reaction to seeing Jon, and Brennan… he’d been kind. He could have been angry, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t said a thing at all.

  He loved her, forgave her, and she loved him all the more for it.

  She padded across the rug to the bed and leaned in. “Something good, I h—”

  An arm hooked her waist and threw her onto the mattress, and he pinned her, looking down at her with gleaming, predatory eyes. “Oh, it’ll be good. I promise.”

  He kissed her neck and made his way lower, untying her nightgown’s closure.

  “What about breakfast?” she argued. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Hunger can wait.” Seductive eyes met hers from between her breasts. “At least that kind.”

  The heat of his lips on her skin was shiver-inducing pleasure, but she squirmed. “I only have three more days, Brennan, and then—”

  “And then the trials won’t matter,” he said, around a mouthful of her breast as he lavished it with attention. “Win or lose, you’ll be one of the most powerful women alive.”

  His hands explored lower, gathering her nightgown. Divine, there was something she’d wanted to say, but what was—

  The pressure of his tongue made her moan.

  “Win or lose…?” she panted.

  “You’ll be a Marcel,” he said, exhaling cool air on her sensitive skin, making her writhe.

  A Marcel…

  Her back arched at his touch. She wanted to be a Marcel, now more than ever, but the trials weren’t meaningless.

  If she won—

  His touch firmed, and she gasped as he repositioned her.

  If she won… Emaurria would get its mages… and she’d be a member of the Magisterium… change things from… within…

  “I want to win,” she whispered, as he pinned back her arms against the pillows, then took her. “I want to—”

  He covered her mouth as she moaned her pleasure. “This is what you want right now, Rielle,” he told her. “This.”

  * * *

  As Jon entered the mansion, the household was unusually flustered—whispering, rushing around, opening and closing doors. The interior was lined with luxury, full of Emaurrian furniture and textiles, much like the palace, but the air was nervous.

  “Perhaps we arrived at an inconvenient time?” Olivia asked the chamberlain.

  “No, no, not at all, Your Majesty, Your Ladyship,” he insisted, glancing at each of them and bowing with the grace lent by half a century of practice. Despite his words, the rest of the household scrambled behind him.

  The chamberlain took their cloaks and led them from the foyer, down a hallway, and past a dining chamber—

  Two sets of footsteps hastily pounded down stairs, doors creaked open, then closed.

  It was almost noon. Surely Rielle and Brennan would be awake by—

  Shutting his eyes briefly, he stiffened. This couldn’t get any more awkward.

  Olivia looked at him inquisitively, but he shook his head and simply followed.

  At last the chamberlain brought them to a parlor, where Rielle sat upon a sofa, reading a book and breathing hard, while Brennan leaned over the fire with his back to them. As if they always spent their leisure time as such.

  Somehow, it had gotten more awkward.

  Rielle glanced up from her book, eyes wide, and stood, straightening her sky-blue dress.

  “Jon, Olivia,” she said, glancing between them. She hurried to Olivia and wrapped her tight.

  Brennan turned and bowed, lingering in his bent posture. “Your Majesty, Lady Archmage, welcome to my family’s home.”

  The words were forced, but cordial.

  Jon inclined his head. They’d intruded, but he’d keep the intrusion as short as possible and leave them to their peace.

  Rielle bowed to him as well.

  He cleared his throat. “I told you at the castle that I’d call on you.”

  Brennan gestured them to seats, and he and Rielle sat across from them on the sofa.

  “How was your voyage?” Brennan asked, sprawling out on the sofa like a cat, his hand covering Rielle’s. There was no mistaking his true meaning: This is my domain, and my woman.

  “Quick,” Jon replied, “other than the water dragon that attacked
our ship.”

  Rielle bolted up. “What happened?”

  “We were on the weather deck, and it attacked in open daylight.”

  “How did you defeat it?” she asked, looking him over, as if she somehow expecting him to still be broken and bleeding… despite seeing him yesterday.

  He suppressed a laugh.

  “While I used a hydromancy incantation to keep the water stable,” Olivia said, “Jon held a repulsion shield—”

  “Your—your magic?” Rielle asked him.

  He nodded, his mouth twitching. If he could show her his progress, she’d be proud… or tease him for having learned as much as a teenage novice just after an éveil. “Olivia’s been giving me lessons, but I’m not that good. Still, when the dragon appeared, I—” He glanced at Olivia, and she smiled warmly for just a moment. Too warmly. He cleared his throat and looked away. “We were near enough to Emaurria that I used my Earthbound powers and managed a wave to discourage it.”

  Brennan’s eyebrows rose as Rielle’s mouth fell open.

  She blanched. “Jon, that’s… You did something truly amazing.”

  “And just about died to do it,” Olivia said, elbowing him. “Luckily, we—”

  Jon coughed. The less that was said about dying, the better. “Olivia healed me. After that, it was smooth sailing.”

  Rielle’s gaze darted between them. Her throat bobbed, her posture and smiling face so taut she looked paralyzed.

  “And you? You’re… in the Magister Trials.” He looked her over. The next few weeks wouldn’t be easy on her.

  Her smile faded.

  “We received the correspondence just after you left Laurentine,” Brennan answered. “Rielle wanted to accept, so here we are.” He took her hand, and they shared a smile, then she faced them once more.

  “On Khar’shil, Shadow insinuated that the Divinity had sent her husband to Laurentine all those years ago, to awaken my sister Dominique. If that’s true, then it’s possible all the tragedies surrounding certain éveils and mages joining the Towers may very well have been orchestrated by the Divinity itself. We’re here to find that out.” She glanced at Brennan once more, and he gave her the slightest nod.

  She suspected the Divinity of killing for power? If she didn’t before, she is now.

  Rielle perked up. “We’re going to try to find evidence by—”

  “Your speech last night,” Brennan said to him, straight to the point. “What was that about?”

  It was why he’d come here. He leaned forward. “I didn’t want to discuss it at the castle, but… all of that was supposed to be a mere formality. I was supposed to request aid, the Grand Divinus was supposed to decline for one reason or another, and we could return to Emaurria, vindicated to seek out other options, no matter what the Grand Divinus thought of them.”

  “But she surprised us by tying our request to your performance in the trials,” Olivia added.

  Rielle frowned. “Other options? What’s happening at home?”

  “It’s… not good,” he said, meeting her intense eyes. “You already know our forces were spread thin dealing with the Immortals. But the piracy has made that strain worse,” he said as she nodded, lowering her gaze, “and although Vervewood and Stonehaven are helping take the pressure off in the heartland, the Immortals are only growing bolder elsewhere. Without more mages—mages the Divinity has been refusing to provide—it’s only a matter of time before our resources are spent and there’s no way left to defend our people.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” Rielle said. “I’ll win. She’ll have to provide the mages then.”

  Even if the Grand Divinus had constructed the trials as a web of deception, Rielle would be strong enough to navigate it. And he’d help her any way he could.

  “You don’t have to,” Brennan said to her with a shrug. “You can just withdraw if the trials become too dangerous, can’t you? He has another plan. A better plan, even.”

  She scowled at him. “A backup plan, Brennan. And even if I ‘withdraw,’ there are no rules. The other candidates don’t have to accept my withdrawal. They could pursue me anyway.”

  He held her gaze. “Then they’ll die,” he slowly enunciated, keeping as still as she did.

  “The silence has been working against us,” Olivia interrupted… thankfully. “No one knows why we don’t have Divinity mages to help. Some rumors say the Grand Divinus doesn’t support Jon. Others say that as a former paladin, Jon rejects magical help. So we came here to make it clear to the world: it is the Divinity that has allowed Emaurrians to suffer.”

  “And once you have?” Rielle asked, scrunching the fabric of her gown in a fist.

  “Emaurria is free to ally with the Covens,” Brennan said, reaching for her hand again.

  “Not exactly,” Jon interrupted with a crestfallen sigh. “The Grand Divinus revealed her interpretation of the treaty publicly… that the Immortals aren’t ‘foreign powers,’ which would obligate the Divinity to act. She could deny us aid and still declare us to be breaking the treaty first if we seek aid elsewhere, although I didn’t exactly agree with her interpretation.”

  “She can’t expect everyone to just die to the Immortals,” Rielle said. “There would be a public outcry.”

  He nodded--she understood perfectly. “That’s our hope. Survival is definitely more popular, and compliance with the treaty’s terms, as interpreted by the Grand Divinus, would be unconscionable.”

  “Unconscionable… Then even if the Divinity disapproves,” Rielle said slowly, intertwining her fingers with his, “its refusal to assist the kingdom puts the public and the international community on your side… A good plan.”

  “And the Tower,” Jon said quietly, before he could lose his nerve. “If the divide between Emaurria and the Divinity is deep enough, we could find the space to bring the Emaurrian Tower under the Crown.”

  Rielle covered her mouth, her gaze searching his until at last she raised her eyebrows and nodded.

  If he held dominion over the Tower and the Order in Emaurria—while uniting peaceable Immortals as allies—the kingdom would have all the strength it needed. It was only a matter of breaking their chains. A nigh impossible matter.

  But he wouldn’t give up.

  “So that’s what you intend,” Brennan said, with a rictus grin. “Sever the external Divinity ties that tangle in Emaurria, and make it stronger. A brilliant, if risky, strategy. And I’m dying to see whether this works out.”

  So was he.

  Rielle kept her gaze low, looking into nothing, or at the rug. He might’ve guessed she preferred he leave, but that wasn’t quite it. Something weighed on her mind. Heavily. Perhaps the trials? Mysterious, deadly, and beginning in three short days.

  Only tell me, and I’ll see it remedied.

  But it wasn’t his place anymore. And for her sake, he couldn’t interfere.

  “You need me to lose, don’t you?” Rielle asked hollowly. She folded her hands together. “So the Grand Divinus could turn down sending aid, and the public outcry can happen.”

  “No, Rielle. I want you to win.” He watched her until she met his gaze. “When you do, we’ll find another time to bring the Covens into the fold. I won’t turn away help, no matter who provides it. Not anymore.”

  She smiled a little, that grave shadow fading from her face.

  “If you become a member of the Magisterium and you agree our claims against the Divinity are true, would you be willing to work with the Covens to prove it from within?” he asked her cautiously.

  Her eyebrows knitted together a moment, then she nodded gravely. “If the Divinity is doing wrong, then I’ll do everything in my power to prove it. And if I win, I won’t rest until I burn out every ounce of infection from the Magisterium and the Divinity in general. I’ll make the Divinity what it was always meant to be, or I’ll die trying.”

  Good. Then they had a plan for if she won. Hopefully Leigh could sell it to the Archons.

  Olivia set d
own her tea. “But Rielle, you should know… If the Grand Divinus never intended to send aid to Emaurria, then she likely wouldn’t have changed her mind last night. I think she plans for you to lose.”

  These Magister Trials could be nothing more than a way to dispose of inconveniences to the Divinity. Worse—encouraging them to dispose of each other.

  Or perhaps even an elaborately planned murder, if each trial was tailored to a particular candidate’s weaknesses.

  “The Grand Divinus may be trying to kill you,” he said quietly.

  Rielle tightened her clasped hands and lifted her chin. “I know. But she wouldn’t be the first, and she won’t be the last.” She met his gaze unequivocally. “And if she makes a mistake, the world will be watching.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Olivia asked.

  “I’ve been researching,” Rielle replied. “But I have something the other candidates won’t—all of you. Your help and advice.”

  He would do everything in his power to keep her safe during the trials.

  Brennan curled an arm around her, and she leaned into him.

  He rose, and so did Olivia. “That’s everything. We won’t keep you any longer.”

  “I’m always happy to see you both,” Rielle said as she and Brennan stood. Her stance firm, she said, “I’ll win. For Emaurria, and for myself.” The sky-blue of her dress brought out the endless summer of her eyes, and the thundercloud of her ferocity in them.

  Jon held her gaze. “Magic is your life. If anyone can win, it’s you.”

  That thundercloud stormed a moment before he turned toward the exit.

  In three days, he’d see her at the castle again. Fighting for her life.

  Chapter 22

  Rielle watched the carriage depart, Brennan at her side, holding her hand. The breeze ruffled her dress and hair, but it didn’t matter—she had a lengthy day ahead of her, poring over books about the trials.

  So Jon had been planning on the Grand Divinus refusing to help. And my participation in the trials ruined everything.