Star Mage (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 3)

by R. K. Thorne

  Upon our loss, my love, don’t dwell

  As to the mountains I go.

  She didn’t know when she’d switched from humming to singing softly to herself, but when she heard the click of the door, she cut off abruptly. Kalan was sweet, but Miara wasn’t so comfortable with her yet that her announced arrival didn’t make her blush. She sat up quickly and turned. “Kalan, thank—”

  She stopped short. It was not Kalan.

  It was the healer, and he was alone. She stood, backing toward the table where her daggers sat behind her. “Announce yourself,” she said slowly. “My guards are in error for not doing so.” She might be new to this nobility thing, but she knew something was off.

  “Oh, I told them not to bother,” he said, smiling warmly. That voice… could that have been the voice Opia was talking with? She had met this man so briefly, the day he’d stared at her long and hard, so his voice would be familiar, but her gut told her he’d been at Opia’s side that day. Siliana had only seen a man in a hood, and Opia hadn’t known who he was or Siliana would have known too.

  “It’s not appropriate that we be alone,” she said, taking a page from Aven’s book.

  “Oh, but I am Healer Nyor, my lady,” he said, smooth and warm. He bowed low with an elaborate sweep of his arm. “Healers at times must visit the ill outside of such rules of propriety. Just as I am visiting you. I’m concerned the substance I’ve identified for you may have had some long-lasting effects. I’ve also heard you’re an accomplished healer yourself.”

  “Horses,” Miara blurted, as she gripped one dagger hilt behind her and slid it out, holding the hilt with the blade pressed flat against the small of her back. All the while, she tried to look as though her hands were clasped casually and demurely behind her. His eyes flicked to the movement of her elbows. He wasn’t fooled.

  “Pardon me, my queen?” He strode toward her.

  “Oh, I’m no queen. Not yet anyway.” If he resented her holding the throne, perhaps she could calm him by pretending she didn’t want it. She shifted sideways, circling the room and putting herself closer to the door, and him out of the path between her and her exit.

  “And yet, you stay in the queen’s rooms,” he said, spreading his hands. He stopped for a moment, then took a few more steps toward her.

  “I’m just a horse healer. Horses—that’s what I meant. I heal horses.” She danced to the side again, but this time he came back in her direction, as if he would try to block her from the door if she made for it. He didn’t ask what was wrong or what she was up to—a bad sign.

  She shouldn’t be here alone with him.

  “Guards,” she called. “I’m concerned you may have offended our honored healer, and my sensibilities too. Come here at once.” My, she was sounding more and more like a noble these days.

  But regal or not, no one responded. Nyor just smiled and drew a small pouch from his pocket.

  “Now, back to the substance your attendant was putting in your tea,” he said mildly, stepping closer again. He was barely more than a horse’s length from her now.

  “Stay back,” Miara said, anger sharp in her voice.

  “It was edder’s blood,” he said casually. He didn’t respond to her command but didn’t come closer just yet either.

  “Blood?” She’d never heard of a creature called an edder.

  “It’s from a flower,” he said, stepping forward again and holding it out as if to smell it. She took a step back in turn.

  But not quickly enough. He lunged forward and tossed the contents of the pouch in her face.

  She threw up her arms, revealing her dagger, but it was too late. The powder burned her nostrils, her eyes, her mouth, and she coughed violently, her body desperate to reject whatever it was.

  She was still coughing when the door opened again. She could hear it, but she could no longer feel her lips. She looked up through watery eyes but couldn’t see who was at the door.

  “My lady—”

  “Kalan, no—” Run. Get out. Go. She shoved the final words silently into the poor woman’s mind, but there was no helping it. Otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten out at all. She wanted to hurl the dagger at the bastard, but she couldn’t see straight enough to know if it was Kalan or him she’d be hitting. Or anything at all.

  She groped with her magic. Two creatures were still in the room, closer together now.

  “No—leave her—” The coughs were too much. She couldn’t make the sounds come out.

  Leave her alone, damn you! she screamed into his mind. For once, she thrust herself into his thoughts, dredging out every horrible image she could find—a vicious, leaping wolf, a swarm of angry bees, anything. She forced the sensation of her coughs, her burning, her pain into his mind as well. Anything. Kalan had been kind to her. She didn’t deserve this. She had to stop him, to cut him off from reaching her.

  She was never certain it did any good, however. The whole world seemed to spin, her eyes swimming with water as she nearly coughed up a lung and fell to her side.

  As the powder seized her, she tightened her grip on his mind, dragging them both down savagely into the darkness.

  10

  BETRAYAL

  Aven’s eyes searched the group waiting in Ranok’s stable, but Miara wasn’t there. Two dozen horses were saddled and chuffing now and then, impatient to get on the road, intended as his personal guard. Men and women bundled in gambesons, cloaks, scarves, and more milled about, finishing preparations for the journey ahead. This part was a small force, but they’d join the rest of the regiment just outside the city. The last few supplies of food, water, and armor were being lashed down to the wagons. Dyon was darting about, overseeing it all with Jenec at his side.

  Jaena and Tharomar stood leaning together against a far pillar, chatting casually, and Derk leaned on another pillar, just frowning at everything. He looked more angry than anything else, although Aven had no idea why.

  Their presence sent a further twist of worry into his gut for no reason he could name. The fact that they’d managed to stop by to see the soldiers off while Miara hadn’t, seemed… off. She couldn’t really be so angry with him that she’d not say goodbye, could she?

  He took a deep breath. He’d rather not fight. But if the choice was between using the map to save her or not using it and losing everything, he knew what he had to do.

  His eyes caught on Telidar standing near the mages, Fayton at her side. He strode over to the stewards. The smith and the two mages turned to listen. As if reading the question on his face, Telidar spoke up as he neared. “Are you looking for Arms Master Floren, my lord?” Telidar had always been one for tradition and propriety, but that seemed an oddly unfamiliar way to refer to her, almost disingenuous considering everyone knew she was far more than just a warrior in his service.

  “Yes, have you seen her?” he said simply.

  “She sent word via her attendant Kalan, sire, who said your mother the queen requested the arms master watch over King Samul while your mother said goodbye to you. See, Queen Elise approaches, sire.”

  Aven frowned at that, but he supposed it made sense. He and Miara had already had a chance to say their goodbyes in his rooms. Even if they hadn’t ended as he’d have preferred. And indeed his mother walked out toward them from the main compound.

  As he waited for his mother to reach him, Aven moved to Jaena and Tharomar and Derk. “Check on her for me, will you?” he said quietly. “Something seems off.”

  Tharomar nodded, his brow creased in a somber line.

  “We will,” said Jaena, her expression intent also.

  “Running off on her already?” said Derk, the anger in his expression lessening for a moment into a more amused version of itself.

  Aven could tell he wasn’t serious, but Tharomar looked at Derk like he might like to punch the man himself. Aven smiled and shook his head. “What crawled into your ear and died?” Aven said instead. “You’re not the one going off to war this time.”


  “Thank the gods,” Derk shot back, but his face grew grim, not his usual wry smile.

  “For the record, I’d rather Miara come along.” Aven winced at the wistfulness that escaped in his voice.

  “Then why isn’t she?” Jaena asked.

  “Because she wants to find more mages in the city,” Aven said. “Needs to, really. We’re vastly outnumbered in mages. She could use your help.”

  “We’ll help,” said Tharomar, quick as his last nod. His force of will surprised Aven, but perhaps it made sense with Tharomar’s order and all. He likely had a duty to help these mages. None of them were really safe yet. That sent another pang of worry into Aven’s heart, but his mother finally reached him, cutting off the thought.

  Without a word of greeting, she hugged him fiercely for several long breaths. “You better come back to me, Aven,” she said finally, her voice shakier than normal, a little crazed. “Promise me.”

  “Oh, Dom isn’t so bad,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “He’d make a good king.”

  “I don’t care. Come back and abdicate, if you like. Just promise me you’ll come back.” She pulled away and made him look in her eyes, hands on his shoulders, like she had when he was much smaller, a boy refusing to listen.

  “You know I can’t promise that, Mother,” he said, his voice dark. He wanted to pat her shoulder in return, but it was awkward with her pinning him from both sides, so he settled for a shrug. “But I’ll try. I’ll do my best.”

  Elise nodded, as if her calm was slowly returning. “That’s all I can ask, I suppose.”

  He squeezed her tightly one more time. “When Father wakes up,” he whispered, then faltered. He wouldn’t say “if.” His father would be all right, certainly. He couldn’t die. “When father wakes up, tell him I’m sorry we fought. Even if I was right.” He smiled at the silliness of the statement, but while he wanted to believe Samul would definitely get better, Aven was not at all sure that he’d live to see any of them again.

  He stared wistfully up into Ranok’s pillars and windows, wishing he could have seen Miara’s face one more time, run a fingertip along the smooth warmth of her cheek, hugged her body close to his for just one more moment so he could memorize that wild-lavender scent.

  But his father’s health was clearly fragile. He sighed and mounted up.

  He was one of the last to do so; the unit was nearly ready. He spotted Siliana approaching Derk, her arms folded awkwardly at her chest, and Derk’s gaze hardened as she approached. So that’s what the anger was all about?

  “I don’t like that he’s sending you,” Derk blurted.

  “It’s my choice,” said Siliana coldly. “He’s not sending me anywhere.”

  Aven frowned, but something told him they were referring to Wunik, not him. He kept his eyes off them now, so as not to let on he was listening.

  “You haven’t trained for combat.”

  “Just because I didn’t anticipate this doesn’t mean I don’t want to help.”

  “Promise me that if fighting breaks out, you’ll stay back. Lay low. Don’t get hurt.” Pain sheared through his voice at the final words.

  “I can heal myself just fine.”

  “Just come back to us, okay?” he said softly.

  “Derk, we’ve been through this.”

  “It’s not about that,” Derk snapped. Aven struggled not to raise his eyebrows. Had he been in love with her once? Was he still? “I just don’t want all the old man’s wrath on me.” He paused, and when she said nothing, he continued. “I need you, Sil. To deflect punishment. We couldn’t stand to lose you.”

  Wunik was hardly wrathful, but the return of Derk’s sarcasm did ease Aven’s mind a little. At least until the man’s voice broke on the word “need.”

  To Aven’s surprise, Siliana hugged him, a long hug, a hug goodbye maybe between friends or people who had once been something more to each other but weren’t any longer. Pulling away, she clapped his shoulder once and headed for her horse.

  Derk stared after her, his eyes an intense jumble. Aven tore his gaze away and looked over the group. Dyon was mounting up behind him. That was it.

  As they rode out into Panar’s streets, heading for the north gate, the rumbling of voices gathered somewhere reached his ears. Aven frowned.

  Sure enough, as they reached the open market surrounding the north gate, the cobblestones were awash with people, from every storefront to the thick walls that ran around the city here.

  The lead riders were slowly stomping forward, urging the crowd to the sides and forming a path. Still, there were enough people to squeeze the procession down to a horse’s width.

  His people. His responsibility. His duty. Easy to forget amid all the chaos. He met their eyes each in turn, greeting gazes with long stares. Some eyes were curious, some concerned. Now he caught voices among them, shouts thrown up as their group passed through the crowd.

  “Is it true there’s war coming, my lord?”

  “Look, son, it’s the new king.”

  “What about the mages?”

  “I heard he’s a damned mage.” That was a new one.

  “Kill those Kavanarian bastards!”

  He sighed, wishing he had more he could tell them, more time to plan it and overall better tidings, but he reined the horse in. He had no clue how all these people had known they’d be leaving through the north gate, although it only added to the nerves twisting his gut. Someone had spread word of what they were doing. Hopefully it’d been just an average soldier talking to his family and word had spread unusually fast.

  “Halt for a moment,” Aven called. The train of horses slowed. “I hear the people have questions. I may not have all the answers. But I may have one or two.” He paused and waited. The crowd quieted, now all their attention focused on him like a beam of light.

  “Kavanar has moved against us in war.” His voice rang out, echoing off the buildings and down the streets. “The city of Anonil has fallen. The border forts are in disarray.” That was putting it generously. “We are headed there to meet them in battle.”

  A few cries went up, some of fear, others of encouragement or bloodlust.

  “But they bring with them an unprecedented obstacle for our forces. Mages march with Kavanar’s soldiers, fighting on their behalf.” The murmurs arose again, angrier and more alarmed now. “Those mages don’t choose to fight. They are forced against their will, enslaved to the King of Kavanar to do his bidding.” That wasn’t perfectly accurate either, as he wasn’t sure if Daes was exactly king yet, but proclamations were not the time for subtlety or caveats.

  Scowls and grumbled outrage swelled around him, tugging at him like a dangerous current.

  “I won’t lie to you, we are ill-equipped to face them. Our military is strong, but we’re not prepared to battle mages. We believe their mages are five hundred strong. We have but a handful.” Some in the crowd fell quiet, stillness settling on them like deer sensing arrows trained on their backs. Among others, the grumbles grew to shouts. “I’ve put out a call, and I’ll say it again. Any mages of Panar, Akaria requests you come to her aid. If you have the courage and ability to stand in Panar’s defense—and indeed, in defense of Akaria itself—Arms Master Miara Floren will see you are safe, unharmed, and trained to defend our fair city.”

  He picked up the reins to continue on but at the last minute added one more thing.

  “Pray for us. Sing your hymns of war. Burn incense in the street, and call in that favor from your ancestors. Because we will need everything you have. Even that may not be enough. But we will fight. And we will die if need be. Honor those who stand against death, against injustice. Against Kavanar. We ride to war!”

  He thrust his fist in the air. Voices rose to shake the buildings, and more fists clenched in answer.

  There. Let them know the drama and the fear, let them know what they were all risking even here, safe in the capital. Let them know this wasn’t just politics and men playing childish games.


  This was real, this was death, and it was coming for them unless someone rode out to stop it.

  JAENA WATCHED the procession trudge away. The air around them felt thick enough to cut with a knife, it was so tense. Many of the servants and stewards had returned inside from the cold, but her friends and allies lingered. Derk scowled after them, Elise wrung her hands, and even Tharomar had a dark expression on his face.

  “I had better get back,” Elise said, sighing as the last horse disappeared from view. “I hate to leave Samul alone with that healer. I wasn’t even going to come to say goodbye, but then he left on his own for a short while.”

  Jaena nodded. “Will it be harder tending Samul without Siliana’s help?”

  Elise shrugged. “I couldn’t relax even when she gave me breaks. I might as well get used to it.”

  She didn’t look used to it. She looked haggard, but Jaena just smiled and waved politely as the queen walked off briskly, back into the building. She gazed off in the direction the troops had gone, the lingering sense of unease only growing. The tension in Ro’s form beside her didn’t help anything.

  “What’s wrong?” she said softly to him. He was still staring after where the soldiers had gone, just as she was.

  He raised his eyebrows, his features immediately smoothing. “Oh—nothing.”

  “You really think you can hide from me? Please. I can read your face like a book.” She smiled crookedly at him. Actually, she couldn’t read his face anywhere near as well as he could read hers, it seemed, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “I was…” He shook his head. “Let’s go check on Miara.”

  “Sure. You can answer my question on the way.”

  He smiled back. “You’re the only one that gets to dodge questions?”

  “I don’t dodge questions, I just sneak up on them. Very slowly. While asking others.”

  He shook his head again and stepped away from the wall where they’d been leaning. “If you must know, I was thinking that I couldn’t do it.”