by Beth Alvarez
“How many mages?” Temar asked.
“As many as possible. Ten Masters from each major affinity, at the very least. If I had it my way, the entire temple.”
Firal gaped. “I don't think you realize what you're asking for.”
“And I don't think you have any idea what she can do,” Rune almost snapped. “If you'd seen half the things I've seen free magic do, half the things I could do once I had a teacher who understood my power, you'd know I'll need access to every mage we can find.”
She hesitated, considering. She'd seen him open Gates alone, without even exerting himself, when it took at least half a dozen Master mages to do the same. Shouldn't that have been enough?
“You'll have however many mages we can spare.” Kytenia sounded resolute, though her eyes betrayed her uncertainty.
Rune didn't blame her. He knew he was asking for a lot. That Kytenia was willing to at least try to accommodate him was a comfort. No matter how friendly their meeting had been the day before, he hadn't been sure he could rely on her. Still, there was a look about her that made him decide to speak with her privately later. No matter how dangerous Envesi was, he had to remind himself that he was only a step less so. If that, he reminded himself; if he had enough mages to supply the power he couldn’t reach on his own, he suspected they would be on equal footing. Regardless of who was stronger, he had the advantage of formal training in the use of free magic. Envesi didn't.
“So we speak to Shymin, collect loyal mages from the temple and allies from the Grand College, send Lord Kaith to speak to the southern mages,” Rikka said, ticking off her fingers. “Then what? We hunt the woman down and try to peel away her power?”
Rune started to speak, but a strange prickling on the edge of his senses silenced him. He turned his head, his brow furrowed.
Uncharacteristically, Kytenia cursed.
“Is that Anaide?” Rikka pushed herself back from the table and started to rise.
“Coming this direction. Someone must be bringing her.” Kytenia turned toward the door and squared her shoulders.
The faint energy signature—something unique to each mage—grew clearer, verifying Kytenia's assessment.
Firal gripped the edge of the table, but relaxed after a moment. “She's alone.” Or at least, there were no other mages with her.
“Don't relax just yet. She's coming from the temple. I can't imagine she has good news.” Kytenia turned to Rune and grimaced. “And no matter what news she brings, we can't let her know you're here. Not yet.”
He nodded. He didn't like the idea of hiding, but she was right. If Anaide came from the temple, she came bearing a message, and she'd be expected to return. For once he was grateful for the seal on his power. It muddied what others could sense. If he couldn't touch magic by himself, there was little for other mages to feel. He blended into the background unless he actively tried to reach for power, or tried to work his own energy into something useful. This time, it would let him slip away unnoticed.
“We'll call you back as soon as we know what's going on,” Kytenia said. “You'd better hurry, so you don't run into her in the hall.”
“I'll escort him back to his room.” Garam stood, masking a grimace as he straightened.
“We will call for you,” Kytenia repeated.
Rune frowned, but said nothing. Silent, he slid into the hallway and turned east.
“I don't mean to complain,” Garam said behind him, “but I'm not as young as I used to be. You might want to slow down just a little.”
Stopping just long enough for his friend to catch up, Rune gestured to a narrow side passage that led to stairs. “We're going that way.”
Garam's dark eyes narrowed. “I thought we were going to your room?”
“If that really is Anaide, I don't want to be anywhere she might think to look for me if someone in there slips. Besides, I need to speak to someone, and I get the feeling she'll be in the kitchens.” He adopted a slower pace to keep from leaving his older companion behind again. It was strange to think of Garam as older, but time was different for those without magic.
“And if she's not?”
Rune cast a grim smile over his shoulder. “Then at least they'll have some whiskey down there, eh?”
23
Strike
No matter how many times Ennil looked out the window, he couldn’t get used to the view outside. Alwhen was fine enough, as far as cities went. It simply wasn’t home.
“Your mother would like it here,” he remarked as he clasped his hands behind his back and forced himself to be still. He didn’t like waiting, especially when he knew things were happening without him. “She enjoyed traveling when we were young.”
“I wouldn’t have thought the island would allow for much travel.” Vahn sat on the floor, handing wooden blocks to his daughter. The girl stacked them without skill, creating towers and fussing when they fell. Placid as ever, Vahn picked up the blocks and handed them to her over and over again without ever batting an eye.
Often, Ennil had wished his son had favored him. The fair-haired young man was mischievous but gentle, tender-hearted and tame. He’d never been cut out for the military. There was too much of Vivenne in him.
Ennil had wanted a ferocious boy, one strong enough to carry on the family name. He’d not been disappointed in the slender child he received instead, but frustrated. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t change the boy’s nature. And so the work fell to him. If their bloodline did successfully mix with the royal line, as Envesi promised it would, all would be well. Kifel had not been a strong ruler, but the Archmage had been strong enough for both of them. She had held the island together and torn it apart. While Ennil didn’t care for Firal, he saw shades of her mother’s strength and determination within her. A point in her favor, but favor wouldn't preserve House Tanrys.
“It didn’t,” Ennil said at last, watching a girl with a basket of laundry weave her way through the alleys below. “Though we still enjoyed it. She had favorite cities, and there were parts of the countryside that made her sigh over their beauty. But we never ventured into the Giftless lands. I think she would like it here.”
“You could bring her,” Vahn suggested.
The corners of Ennil’s mouth twitched. His back was turned to his son, but the slight movement was betrayed by his reflection in the glass-paned window.
“You haven’t told her, have you?”
“Your mother is a good woman, but not always understanding.” Ennil closed his eyes and dispelled visions of his wife’s face. He loved Vivenne, as he loved his son, but there were limits to what she would understand. She’d never been concerned with preservation of the Tanrys line, though she was proud to be part of it. Her priorities were different, that was all.
Vivenne's priorities were Vahnil and the child he played with, whom Vivenne had accepted as part of her family though she knew it was a lie.
“Maybe the problem is you won’t take the time to explain things to her.” Vahn didn’t raise his voice, but it was as close to a challenge as Ennil had ever heard.
He offered his son a strained smile. “Marriage is a complicated thing, boy.”
Shrugging, Vahn passed another block to the dark-haired girl. “Mine isn’t.”
Ennil almost sneered. “That’s because you aren’t in charge. No, don’t be offended,” he added before Vahn could speak. “Firal is the queen. No matter what I’ve done to ensure you have equal power, to make sure you can lead the kingdom when it needs you, a part of her will always know you only have that power through her. No matter how submissive she may be in private, she is and always will be the one in charge.”
Vahn stared at him for a while, then lowered his eyes. “Perhaps that’s the problem, then,” he murmured.
Ennil twitched. “What?”
“You think someone has to be in control.”
Irritation swelled within him, but Ennil stifled it and remained silent as he turned back to the window. Foolish child
. Far too much of Vivenne in him. She shared those sort of utopian ideals, foolishly ignoring that without clear leaders, society failed. The simple fact of the matter was that people expected—and wanted—to be told what to do. The only path to progress came from the few who were willing and able to take the reins and drive a populace toward success.
“Someone will be,” Ennil said after a time. “Regardless of what you think. If the position is open, then why not you?”
Vahn did not reply.
“Either way, Vivenne will know everything when the dust is settled. We’re at the dawn of a change in the world. It’s important we handle the situation with care. There have been enough missteps already.” Ennil had avoided discussing the manner in which Lulu had come to their headquarters in Alwhen, though he thought Vahn might be more accepting—if not forgiving—now that he understood the motives behind the decision. It was easy to condemn something from the outside. It would be harder now that the boy saw the inner workings of their efforts.
“Missteps going back a long way, I’d say.” Vahn glanced up and Ennil met his eyes.
He’d always had difficulty seeing any of himself in the boy’s demeanor. Now, the way Vahn looked at him gave him pause. Perhaps it wasn’t obvious, but there was a shrewdness in his mind Ennil had never been aware of before now.
“Pioneering something has that problem,” Ennil said. “Carving your own path means making mistakes.”
Vahn considered that for a while and sighed. “Do you ever worry your cause will ruin your life?”
Raising a brow, Ennil moved closer. Another block tower tumbled and the child whimpered. “Is that what you fear?”
“Don’t you?” Vahn lifted his head and locked eyes with his father.
Ennil laid a hand on his son's shoulder, the closest he’d come to offering comfort. “Sometimes part of believing in something is being willing to take those risks.”
Vahn bowed his head.
After a moment, Ennil withdrew his hand and laced his fingers behind his back once more. “If you’re worried about Firal, don’t be. She’s a smart woman. The biggest obstacle we have to overcome is her relationship with her mother. Or the lack thereof, I suppose. It’s not gone well, I know. We wouldn’t be standing here if they were able to get along. But it’s not too late for them to reach an understanding. Don’t forget, Firal is a mage as well as a queen. The temple was her first home. She’ll go to great lengths to see it defended.”
It was a wonder the queen hadn't sent legions of her own mages in blue-trimmed white to defend the temple the moment their entourage had set foot in Kirban. Envesi had insisted they accompany the group, however short their visit had been. The Archmage claimed seeing Vahn among her mages would give the temple mages peace of mind. Ennil wasn't so sure it had helped. When she had offered to return them to the palace in Alwhen, he'd been eager to seize the opportunity and leave.
“And with that in mind, cooperation might be harder to reach than you realize. Remember that Envesi came close to destroying the temple when she tried to secede from Kifel’s rule.” Vahn opened his arms and Lulu climbed onto his lap, nestled into his chest and rubbed her eyes. He hugged the girl close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Ennil tried not to sigh. Would that the girl were his granddaughter in more than name. With fortune, Firal and Vahnil’s first child would be a son. The girl would likely take the throne, regardless. Just as well, as it would let the Tanrys family extricate themselves from the tangle of royalty and let them carry on as leaders of their House. The throne was certainly worth aspiring for, but if it came at risk of House Tanrys vanishing altogether, what use was it?
“Firal is a good queen,” Ennil said at last, nodding as if to convince himself of his words. “She’ll do what’s best for her kingdom in the end.”
Vahn carried the drowsing child to a nearby chair and sat, rocking the girl as he settled. “And if that means siding against Envesi?”
“She’ll do what’s best,” Ennil repeated.
Or what she thought was best. He tried not to think of that, his eyes narrowing as he watched Lulu drift off to sleep with her round cheek squished against Vahn’s chest.
If she didn’t agree with their idea of what was best, would her mind change once she knew what Envesi really had to offer?
Anaide moved like a frightened woodland creature, creeping down the hall a few steps at a time. She stopped frequently to look over her shoulder, as if she wasn’t sure the others followed.
Firal found it irritating, but also unnerving.
The Master of Water could barely speak without tripping over her words, so shaken by whatever happened in the temple that it seemed a wonder she was on her feet. The woman trembled whenever she paused, and worried her hands as she led the way to the throne room.
At Firal’s side, Ordin twisted his hand around the hilt of his sword. It was small, insignificant to most, but it was one of few outward signs of nervousness she’d learned to recognize in the man.
Kytenia followed close behind them, with Temar and Rikka at her heels. The mages were stone-faced. If Firal didn’t know them as intimately as she did, she might have thought them indifferent. Instead, she knew they were bracing themselves for a problem, focusing their thoughts and energies in case it came to a fight. She didn’t know what they could do if it came to that, but she appreciated they were willing to try.
Though Firal expected to find the former Archmage waiting before the throne when they emerged onto the walkway above the throne room, the room below was empty.
“She’ll be along,” Anaide whispered, as if afraid to speak out loud. “She will.”
Firal sniffed and pretended to be unconcerned. “At least I’ll be able to receive her from the throne.” Though the matching seat beside hers—Vahn’s place—would be uncomfortably empty.
She tried not to think about him. It was another worry she couldn’t manage right now, not on top of everything else. She knew he and Lulu were together and she’d take that for comfort. Her daughter would be seen to and protected. Vahn was a good father. He’d lay down his life to keep the girl safe, and that was why she couldn’t bear to think of what may have happened to him already.
Firal swept down the curved staircase behind the throne’s dais, took her seat, and held her chin high. She’d barely seated herself before a ripple of energy on the other side of the throne room's doors made the fine hairs rise on the back of her neck.
Anaide scuttled forward, clutching her skirts. “Presenting,” she began, pausing to clear her throat before she stammered on, “the A-Archmage of I-Ithilear.”
Behind the throne, the mages made varying noises of displeasure and disapproval.
Firal only raised a brow.
Long moments crawled past before one of the doors opened and a figure swathed in white slid through. She moved casually but with an animal grace, and the sight of her made Firal’s stomach turn.
Everything Rikka said was true. Envesi looked younger, more vital. Her snowy hair tumbled around her shoulders in a cascade of curls. She still painted her eyes with the markings of a Master, simple and utilitarian lines drawn outward from the corners toward her temples. But her eyes had changed, too vibrantly blue even for a mage, and the snakelike pupils made them seem devoid of feeling. Her clawed toes splayed against the plush blue carpet as she walked, and the white scales on her shins glittered with iridescent light. The skirt of her white silk dress was cut to show off her legs, as if proud of what she’d become. After everything Envesi had done to reject Rune, belittle him for what she made him, she was proud to be the same.
Firal tried to banish the man from her mind. He couldn’t help her now. She’d been foolish to believe he could help at all. Still, a part of her yearned for his presence. His appearance that morning surprised her, as had his sudden change in temperament, and for a moment she regretted the way she’d spoken the night before. Despite everything, he was unshakable, a constant in a rapidly changing wor
ld. In her anger, she had robbed herself of the only stability she had left.
Envesi broke the silence. “How you’ve grown, child.” She opened her arms as she approached the throne, though whether it was greeting or invitation, Firal wasn’t sure. “Your daughter inherited all your finest features. A lovely girl, with a remarkable Gift. You should be proud.”
“Where is my daughter?” Firal spoke coolly despite the rage that surged at the mention of her missing child.
“Safe, resting in my palace with her father and grandfather. They are quite comfortable, I assure you.”
So Ennil had been captured as well. No surprise, since he’d been part of Vahn’s party. But that, too, was something Firal could take as reassurance. Though the odd circumstances of Vahn's disappearance threw Ennil's allegiance into question, he was a clever politician and invested in his son’s well-being. As long as Ennil was present, his protectiveness of his son would cascade over her daughter as well.
“Why are you here?” An edge crept into Firal's voice, in spite of her best efforts to remain calm.
Envesi appeared surprised by the question. “Why, to speak to you, of course. Why else would I have come all this way?”
“Perhaps you should have come to speak to me before invading the temple, which is beholden to me. A queen might take that as an act of war.” Firal did not stir, but her hands, clasped in her lap, tightened until her fingers turned white.
“An invasion? Hardly. I wished to speak to your appointed Archmage, but she wasn’t present.” Envesi’s eyes drifted to Kytenia behind the throne. “I intended to settle things with the mages first, but as things did not go according to plan, I may as well address you and let you deal with them as you will. You are, after all, the queen.”
