The Apprentice Sorceress

by E. D. Walker

  Two splotches of red spread over Ned’s cheeks as she approached. She’d never appreciated blushing before, but his face always turned such a delightful shade of red. It was valuable to have some inkling of his thoughts too.

  He bowed. “My lady.”

  “Hello, Ned.” She caught his hands and squeezed them tight, but she found she couldn’t hold his gaze for long. Something disastrous had occurred to her as she’d been speaking with the princess, and her heart felt bruised now. Hurt. She’d hoped to hide it from Ned, show him a brave face.

  But he knew her too well. Immediately, he’d tucked two fingers under her jaw and tilted her chin so their eyes met once more. “What’s wrong?”

  “The princess, she…she asked me to…” Violette bit the side of her cheek and turned her face into his hand, letting the warmth of his palm heat her chilled skin. The calluses on his palm brushed her cheekbone, and she wanted to stay like that forever. “Ned, I don’t want to go to Lyond. I miss Jerdun so much it aches.” And it’s cold in Lyond, and there are no poets, and the music is awful, which she managed not to say aloud.

  Ned’s fingertips brushed the back of her head, tickling into her hair. “All right. I understand.”

  “I could try, though. I could go to Lyond if you wanted.” It would hurt the princess and make things harder for everyone, but Violette would try if it meant keeping Ned.

  “No. You don’t have to do that, my lady. I wouldn’t want that for you.”

  Her shoulders rolled down with disappointment. She’d hoped he’d argue with her, fight harder for them.

  He kissed her forehead. “I can learn to like Jerdun, I’m sure. If you’re there.”

  “What?” She recoiled, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re the King of Lyond’s squire. And King Thomas is returning to Lyond as soon as he can.” She winced. “He hasn’t asked you to leave his service, has he?”

  “No, no. In fact, he told me back in Aratum he would be honored to have me by his side always.” Ned huffed out a deep sigh. He smiled at her though his eyes were sad. “But you see, my lady, I can’t continue to serve the king. I’ve already made my choice. I made it back in Aratum.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I tried to stay with the king, I’d be doing him and myself both a disservice. You can’t give half your heart to something like that. And King Thomas deserves a squire who can do his duty unconflicted.”

  A little ball of hope bloomed inside her. “Oh yes?”

  “Yes. I already chose you over him, Violette. Days ago. Back in that tussle on the docks. I never should have left my king’s side, but I wanted to stay by you, protect you.”

  “Oh.” It felt immense somehow. That choosing. She beamed at him and stepped into his arms, wrapping her own around his narrow waist.

  His arms banded around her, and his cheek settled against the braid on her head. “You didn’t give me a chance to say this before, but I love you. Violette. My lady.”

  She sniffed tears back and grinned. “I think you can just call me Violette, Ned.”

  “Ah, but I like saying that because in my head, you are my lady. The only one. For me.” He gulped so loud that she could hear it.

  “Oh.”

  “Is that…all right?”

  She brushed her nose against his, not even having to tilt up to do it. “Yes.”

  And as the sun sank into the wine-dark depths of the sea, Ned pulled his lady close and kissed her.

  Epilogue

  The weeks passed, and sailing remained smooth. Kind Fate had finally smiled on their expedition, which meant one day as a clamorous screaming started on deck, Violette was more than a little alarmed. She rushed up from her quarters with spellfire already dancing in her palm until she realized the landscape had become achingly familiar. “Jerdun,” she breathed out. A wave of emotion rolled through her, a longing that left her shivering. She hadn’t realized until just that moment how sure she’d been she’d never see home again.

  Ned found her on deck and slung an arm around her waist. “We should be in port soon. The winds were kind, I suppose. Are you ready?” She’d already told Ned weeks ago what the princess had asked of her.

  A little rumble of worry rolled in her stomach now that the moment had finally come, but she, Yonca, Llewellyn, and Ned had been practicing on their weeks out at sea. She raised her chin. “I’m ready. We can do this.”

  Princess Aliénor summoned her down to her chambers after that, and the four women set about getting the princess into her finest gown. Not as fine a one as they would have wished, but no one wanted to delay once they reached port. And anyway, once the princess was dressed, with jewels braided into her hair, all she needed to do was straighten her spine, and she looked every inch a queen.

  Yonca hurried on deck for some last preparations. As the door closed behind her, the princess’s eyes shone silver bright with tears. “Well, my amazons. Our adventure is nearly over. I thank you for your loyalty, your courage. Your friendship most of all.” Princess Aliénor’s voice broke, and Violette found herself hastily swabbing tears off her own cheeks. “I shall miss you both more than I can say.” She kissed the back of Noémi’s hand then Violette’s. Her grip was almost painfully tight, but Violette found herself squeezing back just as hard.

  “We’re ready, Your Highness,” Master Llewellyn called to them through the door.

  Noémi was the first of them to put herself together. She sniffed and ruthlessly scrubbed her hands over her cheeks, wiping any betraying wetness away. “Come, my lady, it’s time to get you and King Thomas safe on your way to Lyond.”

  “Yes.” Princess Aliénor breathed deeply then settled her face into a mask of regal calm. Violette drew her own chin up, trying to emulate her liege. She had her own part to play, after all.

  The three of them hurried into the hallway, Princess Aliénor in the lead then Violette with Noémi following.

  On deck, the capital of Jerdun lay ahead of them, the wharf a bustle of activity.

  Good. They wanted a big audience, after all. Yonca, Llewellyn, and Ned were already standing by the mast. At sight of Violette they all joined hands, then Yonca and Ned held a hand out to her. Peeling herself away from the princess and Noémi, Violette joined hands with the two magicians and her squire. Ned gave her a game smile, a little tremulous with nerves. Master Llewellyn caught her gaze and held it. “Ready, Mistress Violette?”

  The title sent an anticipatory zing through her blood. Mistress Violette, Sorceress. “Everyone hold on!” So they didn’t have to waste magic on binding people, most of the sailors hurried below decks, there to hang onto their own bunks. The princess and King Thomas hung onto the ropes while the captain did likewise. Noémi, no great fan of heights, closed her eyes and held on grimly to a rope of her own. She didn’t want to miss the end of this tale any more than Violette did.

  Now she was sure that everyone was secure, Violette drew a deep breath in and felt her magic stir to life. Blue spellfire blossomed from her hands and licked across them to join with the blue spellfire erupting from Master Llewellyn’s hands, from Yonca’s, and, very faintly, from Ned’s. As she had back in Aratum, Violette cast the magic away from her, like tossing a bucket of water. There to cover the deck, there to cover the mast and the sails. And up.

  They all rocked a little on their feet as the ship lifted from the water, and the sound of water sloshing off the hull was almost deafening for a moment. A great cry rose up from the docks as someone finally noticed the flying ship.

  And…forward. With a lurch, she sent the ship careening through the air over the wharf and sailing across the city proper, dripping seawater onto the heads of the breathless crowd.

  This was the part they had practiced again and again on the open sea so they could be sure the ship wouldn’t suddenly drop and kill them all and dozens of innocent bystanders.

  Violette felt a bump of power, a gift from Llewellyn. Her own resources were still holding strong, but she took it anyway
, feeling her own energy lift. It felt like taking a bite of bread on a long trip.

  “There. The palace,” Ned gasped. Sweat streaked his temples. He wasn’t used to employing this much of his power or for this long, but her squire held on and even sent her a tiny bump of his own power.

  Violette pushed on the ship, putting on a burst of speed now that the glittering white tower of King Fernand’s palace was in sight. Wind danced through her hair, stinging her eyes with cold.

  Yonca pressed her hand, gasping at the sight of the city. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Glad you came?” Violette called over the wind buffeting their faces.

  Yonca smiled, wider than Violette had ever seen on her face. “It’s certainly an adventure.” And a little bump of power from Yonca followed a moment after.

  Something thunked against the underside of the ship. Violette frowned but didn’t look away from their goal. Light glinted off the red tiles of the palace. Almost. There.

  “Arrows,” King Thomas reported after a look over the side. “A lucky shot.”

  The ship’s captain snorted. “Never thought I’d see the day I’d have arrows on the underside of my ship.”

  Men on the walls of the palace pointed and cried out. King Thomas grabbed the white flag they had prepared and waved it furiously over the side. “We come in peace!” he yelled.

  As another arrow sailed by, just missing their hull, Violette wasn’t sure they’d heard him. Or maybe the guards just didn’t care.

  Princess Aliénor pointed over Violette’s shoulder toward a courtyard. “There.”

  Following the princess’s directions, Violette brought the ship to hover over the main courtyard of the palace, the only place inside the walls big enough for their ship to land.

  “Send out King Fernand!” Princess Aliénor leaned over the side of the ship, and King Thomas watched the archers below as carefully as she did.

  One of the officers from the palace walls stepped from the crowd. “Who are you? What is the meaning of this?”

  The princess wet her lips and called back, “I am your own Princess Aliénor, returned home from the crusade for our lost colonies. Now send my brother-in-law King Fernand out. I have urgent need of an audience with him.”

  The ripple of shock her words caused was loud enough to hear even as high in the air as they were. Violette watched men scurry away, like ants questing for food, in various directions. Hopefully, at least one of them was a runner to summon the King of Jerdun.

  Princess Aliénor eased back from the edge and puffed a breath out. “Now we wait. How are my magicians doing?”

  Holding the ship in the air was taxing, but not so hard as making it float forward had been. Ned’s face was shining with sweat, and Yonca’s was also shiny, but Llewellyn had only a bead of it tracing down his temple. Violette’s forehead felt damp, and her breath was coming a little fast, but she could hold for now and pass the responsibility onto Master Llewellyn if needed.

  Fortunately, King Fernand decided not to dawdle. A flying ship hovering over one’s courtyard was just as hard to ignore as they’d hoped.

  “Princess Aliénor, show yourself!” Violette had never met King Fernand, but his voice sounded very like the high tenor of his brother, the late Prince Philippe. The sound of his voice made her jolt in fear. She was about to meet King Fernand. Her king.

  Obligingly, the princess leaned over the edge of the ship and gave a cheery wave. “Hello, Your Highness. Have we safe passage to land?”

  “I—yes, yes, I suppose.”

  Princess Aliénor nodded, and Violette carefully eased the ship down.

  “Almost there,” King Thomas called back. “Five feet or so.”

  Down, down. Slow, slow, slow…They’d only practiced on water before, of course.

  “Stop!”

  Nerves jumping, she stopped the ship in midair. Violette swayed into Ned, and the two of them nearly tumbled down.

  King Thomas winked at her. “About a foot above the ground now. Just as we’d practiced.”

  Violette swallowed, trying to calm the riot of fluttering nerves inside her. She looked to Llewellyn. “You have this?”

  “Ye…es.” She felt a pull then a snap as Llewellyn lifted the reins of the spell out of her hands and took them in his own. His wounds had healed remarkably fast, and he didn’t look even a little fatigued. She felt breathless and clammy as if she’d run up a hill. But if she kept using her magic, someday she’d have Master Llewellyn’s stamina.

  “Violette?” Lady Aliénor waited for her at the side of the ship.

  “Right.” Violette squeezed Ned’s fingers then let go of him and Yonca. The two of them reformed their circle with Llewellyn as Violette stepped away.

  Ned winked at her. His face was red with exertion, but he should be good for at least a little while longer. He closed his eyes, and the three remaining magic users sank to the deck in unison. Violette gathered her skirts and jogged away from them. The sooner they finished this errand, the sooner they could stop the spell and get this ship back in the sea where it belonged.

  The ship’s captain kicked a ladder over the side and climbed down first. Noémi hurried after him, her eyes pinched closed. Violette kilted her skirt, pulling the material between her legs and tucking it into her belt. Her cheeks burned as she climbed down, but her dignity was less important now than conserving her energy. Everyone hoped for a peaceful exit, but there were no guarantees. Princess Aliénor also girded her skirt then followed Violette down, with King Thomas pulling up the rear.

  Once they were all safe down the ladder, Princess Aliénor smoothed her skirts into place and scanned the crowd until she saw King Fernand.

  King Fernand of Jerdun was stout, as his father had been, although his shoulders were broad, his arms strong with the muscles of a soldier. He was hardier than his younger brother had been, although they had the same dark hair and brown eyes and a similarity about the face.

  King Fernand’s eyes were wide with wonder and he reached out to Princess Aliénor. “Dear sister, I thought you lost with the rest of our army. Dare I hope my brother likewise managed to escape the slaughter?”

  The princess voiced a pained sigh. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness, Prince Philippe was killed in the ambush that took our army. He died saving my life. Almost a year since.”

  King Fernand shook his head, eyes downcast. “I’d thought as much, although it hurts to know for certain. But you are returned to us now. That is some comfort at least.”

  Princess Aliénor drew her spine straight. “King Fernand, there is something I must discuss with you. I…I must beg a boon of you.”

  “A boon? Anything, dear sister. Anything.”

  “Remember you said that, brother.” The princess gave an ironic little laugh, and Violette braced herself, watching the king. So far he had been entirely focused on the princess, and he hadn’t yet looked around at the rest of them. Not more than a passing, dismissive glance.

  But King Thomas stepped forward now and placed one hand possessively on the princess’s shoulder. “Truly, King Fernand, it is I who must ask the boon of you.”

  King Fernand recoiled and gaped in open astonishment. “Ki—King Thomas? How…how can this be?”

  “I have come here under a flag of truce to ask for the hand of your sister-in-law, Princess Aliénor. I love her more than anything, and I wish to make her queen of Lyond.” King Thomas kept his voice low, but his words carried far enough that a ripple of whispers filled the courtyard.

  Violette braced herself, but the mood of the crowd still seemed one of shocked astonishment. Their flying ship had gone a long way toward filling the people with awe. They didn’t yet have time to process all the other shocks the princess and King Thomas were doling out.

  “Marriage?” King Fernand’s nostrils flared with anger. He turned a furious, burning look on Princess Aliénor. “And is this the boon you would ask of me, sister?” he sneered the last word.

  The princess kept her
eyes meekly lowered and her voice soft. “Yes, Fernand. With all my heart I ask it.”

  “No.” He snarled the word out. “To give my brother’s widow in marriage to him? A Lyondi brute and killer. Never.”

  Every muscle in the princess’s body was visibly tense. “Would you start another war over this, Fernand? Over pride and old grudges?”

  He glared at the princess and King Thomas. “Would your King Thomas risk such a thing? Just to have you?”

  “He’s already had me, Fernand,” the princess murmured. “We are wedded and bedded. That you cannot change.” The princess’s eyes were tight at the corners with fear and fatigue.

  Violette sucked in a deep breath, watching the soldiers behind King Fernand. Her magic lay coiled and ready to spring if necessary.

  But King Fernand only snorted. “You always were a fast little jade. My brother was too good for you. What are you willing to pay to keep her then, Thomas?”

  King Thomas smiled at King Fernand, but it was a smile of teeth, one lion baring his fangs to another. “What are you willing to pay to keep me from killing you where you stand? This is my wife you’re speaking to.”

  Princess Aliénor pushed between the two men with a groan. “This is what I offer, Fernand. I shall appoint a regent to oversee my lands in Catarlia. Leave my island alone. Allow my appointed steward to tend to it as they see fit. I will not strip your kingdom of that island, but in exchange, I no longer owe you or your house any fealty.”

  Catarlia was a rich land. The princess was wise to offer it as a bribe. King Fernand ran a hand over his dark beard. “And will King Thomas be so content to have you without your lands as dowry?”

  King Thomas brushed a kiss over his wife’s cheek. “I would want her if she were nothing but a milk maid.”

  Princess Aliénor clasped King Thomas’s hand with a warm look before turning to meet King Fernand’s gaze. “You’re keeping my island, Fernand. Be content with that.”

  “For a humble penitent, you make quite forceful demands.”