by Jasmine Walt
“Stop!” Andre said.
Reyn approached silently, staring at all four of them.
“He lay with the queen,” Taron said bitterly.
Dismay cracked Reyn’s face.
“It was her choice,” Marrok said.
“Always the voice of reason,” Taron grumbled.
“We did say the best man should win,” Reyn muttered. “And…and I guess if she chose him…I guess that was her choice.”
Taron had never heard Reyn sound so unsure of himself. He knew how Reyn felt. They hadn’t even had a chance. Well he had, and he’d blown it. He’d had every chance in the book. Anger welled up in him, hot and churning. Andre’s grip on his hand strengthened. “It is the eve of a battle,” Taron said. “We have rules around this. There is no bedding of women on the night before we fight.”
“Stop lying to yourself,” Andre said. “You are angry he has won her heart. But are you surprised? His sigil is the heart. How could he not win the most soulful woman in the land?”
Hadn’t Taron made it clear to Lorelai that he was an option? He wanted her.
Maybe it wasn’t enough.
Maybe she just really didn’t want him. Not anymore. Not since he turned her down.
He was a complete idiot.
And now she was with Bruno.
“The question is, would you let it destroy us?” Reyn asked. “We are the Order of the Regent. We took a vow to serve the regency of this country. Regardless of who they choose as their mates. We are sworn to her. Would any of us abandon this simply because we cannot have her? It doesn’t change that I love her. It does not change that I love Bruno and he is my bond brother. What happens right here, right now, could break the Order and destroy the woman we all love.”
Taron sighed. There was no way around it. His commitment held true. Forever. “We are brothers. We are united.”
“She may be destroyed regardless,” Marrok said.
They all gazed at the dark knight. All except Taron. He stared at the dirt and gray rocks by his feet.
“She has awoken a mage,” Taron said.
Bruno’s mouth gaped.
The word swarmed like a giant cloak of darkness over the five knights and echoed in their heads. To be named a mage was possibly the most dreaded of all sentences in Valliere. It was the thing none wanted to be. To become a mage, you must find your soulmate and then be torn from them forever. You would be taken under the command of Ayanne the Young and secluded in the Barre du Corbeau monastery, joining only the mages’ guild and forsaking all other causes. Mages had great power, but they lost everything to realize it. They could only be sworn to one person, and that person was Ayanne the Young. They could never leave; they always had to serve. Ayanne was so powerful, there was not a house in all Valliere that did not pay tribute to her. Had she wanted to be the queen, she could’ve made it so. Thankfully, she preferred her monastery to the court. However, none ever knew of a mage who had escaped her once discovered.
“We have to get her out of here.” Andre’s grip on Taron’s wrist loosened.
“We can’t just abandon these people.” Reyn motioned to the warriors all around them preparing for battle against the desert dwellers. “We are members of the Order of the Regent. These people, our people, have come to fight and defend their land against invaders. They are united under the queen.”
“They were expecting a strong leader,” Marrok said. “She cannot even stand.”
Andre frowned. “And they will not fight beneath the herald of a mage.”
Taron grimaced. “Then none should ever know.”
23
Lorelai opened her eyes, greeted by the heady scent of smoked juniper berries and wintergreen. Voices spoke in low murmurs on the other side of the tent. The pain in her head was gone, but as her vision cleared, everything shone with a halo. She held up her hand. It had an aura of lavender and gold, like a second skin.
“What is this?”
Every voice in the room stopped as people moved towards her. It was Taron who stepped forward first, his body encased in a glowing silver aura.
“Taron,” Lorelai said. “You are striking.”
He gazed quizzically at her.
“There’s a halo all around you, a glowing, warm, silver line,” Lorelai mused. “What is it? Can any of you see it?”
A figure stepped out of the shadows. His long black dreadlocks hung past his shoulders, and he wore a long black robe tied with a belt around his waist. He reminded Lorelai of the priestesses, but she knew he was not.
He was a man.
This was a sorciere.
“Lorelai, this is Devereaux,” Bruno said. “The sorciere of House du Montbard.”
“They cannot see what you are seeing.” Devereaux’s rich tones flowed over Lorelai like liquid caramel. “For they are not mages.”
“Neither am I,” Lorelai said, her hands trembling. Sorcieres were only brought in at the direst of moments. They were the step after the priestesses and before you called the mages. They were her last chance at healing.
“Yes, my child,” Devereaux said. “You are indeed a mage. You made love with your soulmate and awakened the energy inside you, which allows you access to the ancient arts.”
“It’s not possible. I was not a virgin.” She searched for Bruno’s face, but he was too far back amongst the knights. She could not see him in the shadows. She felt exposed and bare, even though she was dressed and covered in a blanket. She knew she could not keep a secret from any knight, but she had hoped they would learn of her relationship with Bruno in a subtler way.
“This phenomenon does not occur when you have sex,” Devereaux said. “It happens when you make love with your soulmate.”
“But your mother…” she said. Bruno’s mother could not stand mages and only welcomed sorcieres and priestesses as healers in her duchy.
“Knows nothing,” Bruno said. “She has gone to be with our people and will leave the battle to us.”
Lorelai sighed. She had few allies as it was. Losing Lady Montbard so quickly in the campaign to regain the throne would be a harsh loss. But then, her stomach plummeted. It was worse.
“They will take me away,” she said, her hands flailing in the air, clasping at nothing tangible. “The seekers. They will come for me. And they cannot. I am queen. I will be turned into a servant of Ayanne. This is not my destiny. I have a duty!”
Devereaux sat down slowly next to Lorelai. “Yes, you are the queen. There are many roles in the world, but each of us has only one destiny.”
“But this cannot be possible,” Lorelai said. Her world couldn’t change so rapidly. Could it? She did not want to become like Archard, the bone mage at Castle Ashford. He was sad. He was alone. He was…he was lonely. “I cannot be isolated,” she pleaded with the knights.
“No one in this tent will turn you in,” Taron said.
“Bruno?” Lorelai said. “Bruno, step forward.”
The knights stepped aside, and Bruno, his hands balled into fists, skin pale, stepped from the shadows. He sat on the edge of the bed and Lorelai fell into his arms. He wrapped around her, kissing the top of her head.
“Are you a mage also?” she asked.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “No, I am not, my love,” he said. “And as before, so is it now. I will give my life to protect you. Ayanne will not have you.”
“None of us will let the witch have you.” Marrok’s words were stiff and heavy.
“First, we must make her stronger,” Devereaux said. “Then we must bring her to the battlefield.”
“Are you insane?” Bruno glared at the old man.
Andre leaned in. “There is no way she’s going to the fight.”
“She can’t even stand up,” Taron said.
“She will be able to when I am done,” Devereaux said. “I have seen one of her roles is to stand and help protect the Western Region. Would you stand in the way of your queen fulfilling her role?”
“Can
you really help?” Reyn asked.
“I can stabilize her,” Devereaux said, “and bring her a bit of control over her magic. Using tinctures and exercises, I will show her how to breathe and manage herself better.”
A deep purple halo circled around the sorciere as he blew into a steaming cup of tincture in his hand. She took it from him and held it closely, watching the vapor mix with her lavender and gold aura.
“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Devereaux said. “Exhale quickly, smoothly, and completely.”
Lorelai felt her body sink into the mattress as she exhaled.
“Good, good,” Devereaux muttered. “Now drink the tincture.”
Lorelai sipped at the broth, barely stopping herself before she spat it out. The taste was horrific. “What have you put in this? It’s disgusting.”
“Only the ground entrails of dead rats,” Devereaux said, with a hint of mirth.
Lorelai spat the liquid back into the cup and pushed it away, but the sorciere leaned forward and pushed it back towards her.
“That is not what it is. Just drink it.” He lifted it to her mouth again. “If I told you what it truly was, you would never drink it.” He smiled.
Lorelai glared at him, but he leaned in.
“Tell me,” Devereaux said, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. “Do you want to become a slave of Ayanne like the other mages?”
Lorelai shook her head, fear shuddering through her. “No.”
“Then you must drink everything I give you and follow my instructions to the letter,” he said. “There is no other help for you.”
Lorelai hesitated, but she could not argue with the firmness in Devereaux. In a single massive gulp, she drank the tincture down fully.
Taron motioned the other knights out of the tent, and Lorelai was grateful. The colors of their auras had been swimming around together and giving her motion sickness. Devereaux’s strength and clarity seemed her best hope for now.
Bruno lay flat on the ground, his eyes closed, waiting for his body to steady and still. He knew the other knights would think he was just lying there, exhausted from a heavy night of lovemaking. Fine. Let them think that. The truth was too terrible for them to know.
What the hell was happening to him? One minute he’d been having the most miraculous moment of his life, buried deeply inside the woman he had long loved, and the next moment he had no control of his heart, no physical control. It felt like it was moving around inside the cavern of his chest with a mind of its own. It had made him sick and dizzy, unable to stand, unwilling to sit up for fear of vomiting. Only through the physical discipline of breathing and the mental practice of meditation had he been able to gain some command of himself, but it was often fleeting. Just enough to stand with his fellow knights and pretend as if none of this were happening. Behave as if he were not a mage.
His mind sickened, practically collapsing in on itself, at the thought of it.
A mage.
In the name of the saints, how could this be true? He couldn’t imagine a worse fate. To be the target of Ayanne the Young, ripped from the woman of his dreams, his soulmate, his Lorelai, and become everything his mother despised. There was no direr destiny he could have.
Bruno watched as the sorciere stepped out of the queen’s tent. The man’s long dreadlocks swayed slightly in the breeze as he headed towards where Taron was gathered with the other knights not far from Bruno. They were making the final preparations to move to the battleground. Taron was deciding who would stay behind to guard the queen. One of the Order of the Regent would be required to stay with her.
Bruno did not want it to be him. His head was a mess, his body weak; he would be useless at guarding the queen. Worse than useless. She would die in his care. He was having a difficult enough time keeping his steps firm and his words clear.
Reyn with his positivity and sharp spear, Marrok with his clear thinking and double-edged sword, or Andre with his precise execution techniques would all be better choices. Besides, the others, despite their desire to hold the Order intact, were showing enough of a cold shoulder to Bruno. They were not thrilled he had proven to be the queen’s soulmate. They weren’t the shallow types, but no man would easily accept that their preferred love chose another.
He knew they would undoubtedly come to respect the wishes of the woman they all loved. They would not abandon her simply because they could not marry her. They would not hold it against Bruno or her. Bruno was their bond brother, their comrade on the Order of the Regent. It would take a bit of getting used to, but ultimately, they would be happy for Lorelai and Bruno.
No one could argue with the fact two people were soulmates. You can’t take one who is not yours, and you can’t keep one who belongs to another. Lorelai was always his, they had just never known it. None of them had. Not even Lorelai.
Any of them would be missed on the battlefield, but somebody needed to stay with the queen. Bruno thought it should be Marrok. He was level-headed, conservative, and would ensure she was kept at a safe distance from trouble.
Bruno slowly sat up. He would talk to Taron now. Their world had been turned upside down in a few short hours, and now they were all scrambling to reconvene. But Devereaux’s voice stopped him as he climbed to his feet.
“You know she will have to leave the island?” The sorciere was perfunctory in his language, his long staff clicking in the dirt. “If she does not, she will not be able to hide from Ayanne the Young. She will be taken.”
Bruno understood it was not the sorciere’s fault, yet the anger rose in him.
Andre moved to stand next to Taron, his arms folded over his chest as he glared down at the sorciere. “We will do what we have to do,” Andre said.
“Which one is the soulmate?” Devereaux asked. They all turned and looked towards Bruno, who stepped forward. “Do you show any signs?” the sorciere asked.
“None I can tell,” Bruno replied evenly.
“He’s not levitating or anything,” Reyn remarked. “If I throw this rock at him, I dare say I’d hit him.” He tossed a rock up in the air and caught it as Bruno glared at him, daring him to throw it.
“What of the queen?” he asked. “Will she be all right?”
“Like all mages, she will learn to master her powers if she’s given the right direction,” Devereaux said. “This is why Ayanne is so important. She is the one who helps the mages come into their abilities. Her skill is to help others master their capabilities. However, Ayanne will rip you and the queen apart. And she will take the kingdom down if she must. She is a power whore and craves energy from the mages. This is why I am telling you, you must leave the island first. There can be no queen mage in Valliere.”
Bruno’s skin broke out in a light sweat as Devereaux moved towards him. With a careful breath and clenched hands, Bruno focused on the light breeze touching his skin as he pressed into the tree. “The queen does not have to give up her throne because of Ayanne the Young,” Bruno said. “There is no reason a mage should not rule this land.”
“She may not have a choice,” Taron commented. “Ayanne ruins mages as humans and we cannot have an inhuman mage on the throne. We would all agree to this.”
“You would keep the queen from the throne?” Reyn asked.
“No one stands behind the queen more than I,” Taron said. “But we are also sworn to the regency of this kingdom.”
“We are sworn to Lorelai,” Marrok reminded them.
“What is most important is to keep her alive,” Andre said.
Devereaux lifted Bruno’s shirt, prodding at his skin. With a deep breath, Bruno submitted to the inspection from his mother’s sorciere. “You cannot tell my mother of this.”
“What were you doing lying down so quietly?” Devereaux asked.
The sorciere narrowed his eyes as he poked his fingers into Bruno’s ribs.
“Meditating,” Bruno said. “This is part of my pre-battle warm-up.”
“Among othe
r things, apparently,” Reyn said, kicking the dirt with his leather boot.
“Enough,” Taron insisted. “Either we are the Order of the Regent or we are not.”
Silence filled the air and the sorciere glanced around at the five of them.
“We are,” Reyn said almost reluctantly, as if he still wanted to hold onto his bitterness. But he, like the others, knew it was no way to go into a battle.
“You seem slightly sweaty,” Devereaux said to Bruno.
“It is only nerves,” Bruno said.
Devereaux nodded but leaned forward, his voice low so only Bruno could hear. “Just be aware, knight, magic increases with the depth of your emotions, and when pent up, it can explode.”
“It’s not every day you meet your soulmate,” Bruno said. “And I will lose her to the mages, or the two of us will leave Valliere.”
The knights exchanged a look, their faces drawn and gloomy. There was no easy end to this. No matter what.
A shout suddenly went up from the troops behind them. “The desert dwellers are on the move!”
“There will be time enough to face the mage challenge later,” Taron said. “For now, we must join the battle.”
The knights kissed their rings and touched them to their foreheads.
Taron nodded to Bruno. “You will stay here with the queen.”
“No,” Bruno said. “I cannot.”
“He does not have to.” Lorelai’s voice rang clear. She stood just outside her pavilion, dressed in a travel cloak and swaying slightly in the breeze as she clutched the fabric of her tent. “I will join you on the battlefield.”
24
Bruno ran to Lorelai and grabbed her around the waist as the other knights circled her protectively. She glared at them.
“It’s impossible.” Bruno spoke first. “You cannot come to the field.”
“You can barely stand,” Taron pointed out, his long, dark hair catching in the breeze.
“I refuse to stay at the ruins of the desert dweller castle. And last time I checked, I am the monarch, not you.” Her piercing gaze showed she would not change her opinion.
