by R. K. Thorne
Ediama glanced around, the sweet-fake smile tentatively returning. “Is she in attendance, sire? I had hoped I would meet her here.”
“If you don’t like mages, you won’t like her any more than me.”
The priestess grinned broadly, almost patronizing. “Your Highness, I never said—”
He had no interest being lied to. He cut her off. “Ah, there she is,” he said, gesturing to the back of the hall. “She’s just returned from taking a stroll with Priestess Gerana.”
For some reason, her brow crinkled at the sight. Didn’t like a priestess so familiar with a mage? Some kind of competition for favor or dominance?
“Ah, yes, I see them,” she said sweetly. “Sire, you have many others waiting to attend you. Before I take my leave, I did have two requests for you. Well, questions really. Your Highness.”
“Yes?”
“King Samul had been planning to support a winter feast in two month’s time for the orphans at the Matron’s Tears. And for the widows of Panar. Can I still count on your support?”
“Of course.” Assuming the city still stood and the war hadn’t utterly ruined the kingdom financially by then. He hoped he could assume those things, but he decided not to mention them. This time. He’d scared her enough. “And the other request?”
“One of my priestesses was at a royal function and has not returned. Do you happen to know the whereabouts of Priestess Niat? I’ve seen soldiers searching the city, but they’ll never tell us anything about what they’re searching for or if they found it.”
He frowned. Could he trust her with news of Thel’s kidnapping? Was there any reason to keep such a thing a secret? The guards kept confidence as a manner of protocol, but the woman did deserve to know where her priestess was. And she was probably with Thel, although he certainly didn’t know for sure.
“She is a seer, sire, of great power. Her talents are just beginning to develop. I’m concerned for her health outside of the temple. And she could be of great use to you in the war I’m sure in predicting future movements of your enemies.” The last bit sounded tacked on, as if she was scraping for a reason to motivate him to bother looking for Niat. Well, perhaps that was fair. He hadn’t been concerned about her until now, only his brother.
“A seer? What has she predicted?”
“Only small things so far. She is just beginning, as I’ve said, and it’s been a rocky start for her. I’ve heard…” She shook her head.
“What? What have you heard?”
Ediama looked down at his feet, no longer smiling. She let out the words grudgingly, although nothing seemed to drain the dreamy, almost sickly sweet quality of her voice. “I’ve heard she predicted seeing a city fall. Walls and roofs in flames. I didn’t want to believe it. I’ve also heard rumors her father made a deal to marry her off and move her to Gilaren in spite of her vows to our temple.”
“Gilaren?” said Aven slowly.
“Yes, the rumors said— Perhaps they involved some sort of deal with Lord Alikar.”
“Lord Alikar is already married.”
“I know, sire. As you can see I have multiple reasons for being concerned, or I wouldn’t have bothered you. I’m sure your time is more valuable than this, but—”
“She may be with my brother Thel, who has been kidnapped by Lord Alikar. Alikar has also been charged with treason, you might be interested to know.”
She caught her breath. “Treason, sire?”
“He tried to bribe two other Assembly members with Kavanarian gold.”
“Oh, no. And you think Niat might be with them?”
“She was near them during the attack on the tower, after the function she attended. Her body wasn’t found among the rubble, and neither was Thel’s. I know Thel is with the Kavanarians, but we weren’t looking for signs of her specifically.”
“Surely you will send men to—”
“We have,” he said slowly, his voice darkening. “The unit we sent was wiped out. We are currently devising another strategy.” That sounded better than saying they had no idea what the hell they were going to do.
She stared, mouth open now. “Wiped out…? How? By whom?”
“By twenty Kavanarian mages, who burned our brave men and women alive.”
She went nearly as pale as her robes.
“So you’ll see why I am deadly serious about my first topic, Priestess. No Devoted. No persecution of mages. It is truly a matter of life and death that we find more to join our ranks.”
“I understand, sire,” she said very softly now.
“I will let you know if we learn anything of Niat. But I wouldn’t count on it. This war is bigger than one seer, or even one prince. Even if he is my brother. We’ve turned our efforts to the broader war for now. And you will let me know if you discover any mages. Deal?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Her eyes were staring blankly off in thought as she floated away, and the next fine soul stepped up.
THEL DASHED INTO THE WOODS, the wound in his leg aching. The thunk of arrows told him a tree to his right had taken the hits meant for them. Their feet crunched loudly in the packed, cold snow. Niat seemed to have gotten her legs under her and was moving faster now, and he was dragging her less, and he was almost tempted to let her go and trust her to run with him. But not yet. She hadn’t tried to wrench herself away either, so he took that as a good sign.
He darted toward the densest patch of trees he could find, zigzagging, pulling her along. Another good reason not to let go—she wouldn’t know any tricks to help evading arrows, and they could get separated if she tried. If they could just get a little farther into the—
Something hit his right knee, then swung around and hit his left, suddenly yanking them together.
He went down, letting go of her immediately and cursing as he went. Frantically he went for his knees—a simple leather bola had hit him and was tangled there, incapacitating him all too efficiently.
“Go, Niat,” he shouted. “Keep going.”
She took a few steps further into the trees, but she didn’t run. She was stopping. What was she looking at?
Only at the last second did he hear footsteps and look up to see Alikar before the young lord fell on him. He reached for the rocks on the chain ends, but too late. Alikar’s fist slammed into Thel’s face, sending him seeing stars. He lost his grip on the stone—and his magic entirely.
By instinct more than thought, Thel lunged for Alikar’s throat, his cloak to choke him with, anything, but Alikar caught the arm and twisted, pulling, flipping Thel onto his stomach and wrenching the arm up behind Thel’s back.
He caught hold of one of the chain stones and flung it at Alikar, but the lord ducked as he brought a vicious elbow down between Thel’s shoulder blades, splintering his concentration. Pain stopped all rational thought. Alikar’s weight sank into him, pinning him down.
Thel tried to heave him off and grabbed for the stone again—or for the earth below him—or anything, but Alikar seemed to have him figured out. A fist dug deep into Thel’s kidney, then another collided with his face, stealing away every chance at a thought. Alikar caught his other wrist; the chains attached to the shackles made that all too easy. He held Thel’s wrists fast, shoving them viciously into the small of his back.
“You poor thing,” Alikar said slowly. “Almost kidnapped by a mage.”
“Better than kidnapped by you!” Thel shouted, getting snow in his mouth and viciously spitting it out.
Alikar ignored him. “I’m sure he just dragged you along. You didn’t actually want to leave us. Did you.”
“Of course not,” said Niat’s voice smoothly. He heard the sound of a small tin opening, then closing slowly. “But I was afraid he’d crush me. Like he did Detrax.” Her voice was different, slow, almost languid. He’d never heard it like that, and a pang went through him, of irritation, of anger, of what?
“Crush you!” Thel shouted again, more than a little indignant and not caring any more at this po
int. “How could you—”
“Shut up, mage, you’re not a part of this conversation,” growled Alikar, jerking his arms higher. His shoulders split with pain. Thel bit off his scream, but just barely.
“Is Detrax going to be all right?” she said softly. As if she cared. Why was she pretending to care?
“Not likely. Now show me your loyalty. Take that weapon and tie this murderer’s hands.”
“Even with the shackles?”
“Clearly they were not enough.”
Without objection, Niat moved to his legs, untangled the stupid, stupid weapon, and proceeded to bind his hands behind him. He glared at the snow, even if she couldn’t see him. “That’s what I get for bringing you with me. See if I try to save you next time.”
Niat said nothing. Alikar laughed darkly and rose off him. Then he was hauling him up to sitting against a tree trunk. He pointed a finger in Thel’s face. “You, like your brother, are more trouble than you appear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t like that your little halfwit brain can’t figure out why we keep beating you?”
“Who’s beating whom now?” said Alikar calmly, propping his hands on his hips. “All that, and I brought you down with a strip of leather. Pathetic.”
Thel glowered at him. “At least I still have my honor. At least I’m no traitor. At least I can sleep soundly at night knowing I never sold out my country to a corrupt, greedy pack of wolves for an extra chest of silver.”
“It was far more than one chest of silver. But that’s not the point. The point is, you mages will never rule Akaria. I’d rather have Kavanar as my masters than freaks of nature who must be cleansed. You’ll see. History will remember me as keeping Akaria’s honor. As saving our land from corruption.”
“History will look back on you with nothing but disgust,” Thel spat.
“When I am king of Akaria, you will eat your words. If I let you live to see the day.”
“Is that what you think you’re getting out of all this? Please. Kavanar wants Akaria for itself. Why would they keep you?”
“Because I can make the lords listen to me.”
“Like you did with Asten and Toyl?”
Alikar cuffed him across the face.
When the stars cleared, Thel met Alikar’s gaze head-on. “And Beneral? You really convinced—”
The young lord raised his hand again, and Thel flinched this time—a tough guy, he was not—but Niat eased closer suddenly.
Alikar stopped, drawn by her presence. She floated up to him, a delicate, glowing ghost of white against the snow, the dark pines. Her lips seemed impossibly red and full and luscious, like ripe cherries from the height of summertime that had somehow been tossed amid the snow. Reaching Alikar, she slowly placed her hand on his chest, and then ran it lower, drifting down his abdomen. Along the belt that held his dagger.
Before her hand could near the blade, Alikar lowered his hand and placed it over hers, stopping it.
“You’ve already captured him, my lord. Waste no more of your energy on this pathetic prince,” she said, voice smooth and honeyed.
Alikar frowned, as if unsure what to make of her words or her hands.
“Detrax has not left us alone for even a minute.” She lowered her eyes.
A chill shot through Thel’s veins, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Alikar’s gaze sharpened on her, the slow way she looked up at him through her eyelashes.
“True,” Alikar said, his voice rough. “But Detrax is not here, is he.”
“No, he is not.” She smiled slightly. “And he’s not likely to be anytime soon.”
Thel squirmed, both inside and out. Seizing Niat with his other arm, Alikar spun her away as though she was no more substantial than a feather, utterly forgetting Thel.
Gods, let him have interpreted that exchange wrong. Let him have seen something that wasn’t really there. Let him—
The sound of a soft gasp from Niat to his left made him lose a bit of hope. He tried to resist but eventually glanced over. Alikar had drawn Niat under the cove created by the branches of a large pine and sunk to a seat with his back to the trunk. He was pulling the priestess down over him.
“Aren’t you already married?” Thel snapped.
“Shut up, mage.” Alikar sounded highly pleased with himself. Thel gritted his teeth.
“Some holy man you are,” Thel grumbled. And he tried to look every which way but there, as the sounds reaching his ears told him he had not imagined anything.
She was kissing that traitor with those impossible cherry lips.
The cold forest air was mockingly fresh and smelled of pine boughs and churned-up soil and wide-open wilderness. He had never been terribly enthusiastic about hunts with Dom, but this is what they smelled like. He should have taken them a little less for granted. He heaved a sigh. What else can you do when you’re captured and tied up again? How many weeks was he going to spend this way? Certainly he’d count it in weeks. They’d either kill him or he’d get away before it got to a year. Wouldn’t it? He gritted his teeth and squirmed again, grumbling to himself.
“Must we have an audience?” murmured Niat, as if put out by his sighing and grumbling.
“Fine, fine.” Alikar lurched to his feet, withdrew some misshapen cloth lump from his satchel, and pulled it over Thel’s head.
Thel rolled his eyes to himself. Well, this was just excellent. Now instead of pine boughs and snow, he got to smell Alikar’s sweat. A magnificent turn of events.
Alikar plopped back down with a thud, and the mouth noises resumed, and Thel restrained a need to roll his eyes again. It was benefiting no one at this point, not even him. He should be figuring a way out of this. He wriggled a bit, but try as he might, the knots Niat had tied remained snug against his wrists.
He gave up for now and relaxed against the tree trunk. Nothing met his ears but the sound of water flowing somewhere, dripping, wind whispering in the swaying trees, and an occasional bird that was long overdue to fly to Farsa or somewhere warmer.
Nothing. Hmm. Weren’t the sounds of infidelity and betrayal supposed to get louder, not quieter? He wasn’t very experienced in love, but he knew that much.
The silence stretched on, and Thel sighed. Maybe they’d left him here. That’s what he got for trying to do something noble—or at least decent. A slow, bitter cold to seep into his bones until he froze to death. Alone.
7
TRANSLATIONS
Niat crouched quietly in front of the mage prince and studied him, now that she had a moment to herself. He’d faired moderately well in their captivity, with one wound partially healed Detrax-style in his thigh and another near his shoulder, but overall he could be much worse for the wear than he was. He didn’t look nearly as dirty as she was. The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she had to admit it was oddly interesting.
He was a strange combination of masculine grace and lanky awkwardness. If she let herself be honest for a moment, it was a little endearing. For a mage. She’d spent so much of her life only around women, aside from her father, and Peluna had kept her at a protective distance from men as often as possible, either isolating her completely or playing a barrier in their presence. Guards and soldiers had more bulky frames than this mage. She hadn’t known many like him. Maybe none. He was an intelligent fellow, too, with more words than he knew what to do with.
She took one more precious moment to drink him in, to study him and what made him tick, corruption and all. Of course, that corruption had just bought her some measure of temporary freedom. Having all the cards in her control was quite the luxury. It likely wouldn’t last long.
Why had he chosen to take her with him?
Failing to think of any answer to that, she moved on to what to do next. What options did she have? They were all bad. Go back to the fortress, or follow this mage wherever he had intended to go. If he even had a plan. She certainly didn’t.
She glanced at Alikar’s bo
dy in the snow, then back at the fortress. Detrax would not recover from Thel’s deluge of rock, but someone else might send pursuers soon. And those men would find what she’d done. They would catch her and the mage one way or another. They were simply at too much of a disadvantage and too unprepared out here in the snow.
If defeat was assured, what did it matter what she did? She should simply go back. She was already shivering, in spite of taking Alikar’s cloak. Temple gowns weren’t intended for the wilderness, and bare flesh was not at all the ideal fashion for snowy expeditions.
They’d likely die out here.
Then again, if one of Alikar’s or Detrax’s minions catching her—and probably killing her—was inevitable, what did it matter what she did? She sat, basking in this brief moment of power, of freedom.
For this heartbeat, all the choices were hers.
Wasn’t that what Sister Ireie was always muttering at her? “The goddess judges your choices, girl, and don’t you forget it.” Niat had often just shaken her head, truly not understanding. When you’ve seen the future, and seen your visions come to pass, it was not so simple. What difference did choice make then? What difference did it make to the goddess if, in some way, her choice was already made? Though one question haunted Niat. Was it possible for the visions not to come to pass? Sister Ireie could not answer that question. No one could, save another seer, and there weren’t any. If others had known the answer, none of them had written it down.
On the other hand, she didn’t always know what would come to pass. She’d seen this young man in her future, but what did that tell her? That death wasn’t tomorrow, perhaps, but not much else. He could be in her future if they were recaptured or if they somehow escaped. The latter seemed beyond impossible, but…
She still had to choose.
She knelt beside him and untied his wrists.
