Scorched by Magic (The Baine Chronicles Book 7)

by Jasmine Walt

  We discussed the particulars of Fenris’s departure for a little while—he was going to pack in secret, ready to depart at a moment’s notice should Garrett come too close to the truth. In the meantime, Fenris would spend as little time in Garrett’s presence as possible, and if they did have to be in the same room, he would do it in wolf form. Garrett couldn’t use mindspeak, and he wouldn’t be able to question Fenris as a wolf.

  “Fenris will be fine,” Iannis said as the two of us burrowed beneath the blankets in his huge bed, long after Fenris had left for his own room. “He may no longer have all of his magic, but he is very clever and resourceful, and his shifter senses are much more developed than they were when I first brought him to the Palace. He will be fine on his own, and there are many places in the Federation where he can live a comfortable life so long as he keeps his head down.”

  “I know.” Laying my head against Iannis’s bare chest, I tried to comfort myself with the steady beating of his heart. But I couldn’t help fearing that despite all our careful planning, we were teetering on the brink of disaster.

  8

  I tried to sleep, but though Iannis’s arms were snug around me, his powerful body wrapping me up in a cocoon of warmth and safety, I found myself restless. Even though I’d told Fenris that I understood and accepted his decision, turmoil continued to writhe and roll around in my chest, churning my thoughts into a muddled mass of worry.

  What if Fenris didn’t manage to get away in time? What if Garrett and his assistant found enough evidence to arrest and convict him? Iannis would be stripped of his role as Chief Mage, and he might very well be executed alongside Fenris.

  No way, a voice in my head argued. Iannis wasn’t a victim, and he wouldn’t meekly submit, either. He was clever and resourceful enough that he might be able to flee the Federation. But what kind of life would he have after such public humiliation? I would also lose any prestige and favor I might have gained in the mage community. I didn’t know if they could execute me after all I’d done for the Federation, but I would no longer be in a position to help the shifter and human communities. And that was unacceptable.

  Careful not to wake Iannis, I slipped from the bed as quietly as I could. He mumbled a little in protest, but dutifully curled his arms around the pillow I pushed against his chest. I took a moment to admire the way the moonlight filtered in through the window above the headboard, highlighting his alabaster skin and making his dark hair, the color of cherry wood, shimmer. Long lashes fanned out against high, razor-edged cheekbones, and his full mouth, normally so firm and stern, was slightly parted. The sheets had slipped down to his waist, baring broad shoulders and a strong back that tapered into lean hips. Scratches marred the pale skin beneath his shoulder blades, left over from our lovemaking last night, and I was filled with a sudden urge to lean over and kiss the small wounds. Wounds that he’d chosen to leave rather than heal. But I didn’t want to wake him, so I turned away, then quietly returned to my room via the secret passage in the corner.

  I dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a sweater, then strapped my crescent knives to my right thigh. I debated putting on shoes, then decided against it—my footfalls would be silent if I went barefoot, relieving me from having to use a silencing spell. Mages could detect if a spell was in use if they were paying attention, so I wanted to rely on magic as little as possible. My shifter senses would be enough.

  It was a little eerie walking through the Palace halls at this time of night. There was absolutely no one else about—not even a maid. Guards were strategically stationed by the entrances, but none were near the guest rooms in the East Wing. Powerful wards had been set up to protect against intruders, so there was no need for anything more than a patrol.

  Speaking of a patrol…footsteps sounded on the stone floor around the corner. Quietly as I could, I darted into a broom closet, wedging myself behind a forest of mop handles and buckets as far back as I could go. The footfalls grew closer, and flickering torchlight seeped beneath the crack in the door as the guard made his rounds. He paused outside the closet, and I held my breath, praying to Magorah that he wouldn’t open it.

  He moved on, and I held in my sigh of relief until his steps had faded completely. I really did not want to have to explain to him why I was hiding in the broom closet. Strictly speaking, I didn’t have to—I was the Chief Mage’s fiancée, free to come and go as I pleased. But I didn’t want any guards to catch me snooping outside Garrett’s room—they would inevitably talk about it, and I didn’t want them discovering there were conflicts among the mages. As far as the staff knew, Director Toring was here to apprehend Thorgana—they didn’t need to know that he was also interested in Fenris, or why. The fewer eyes on Fenris, the better.

  Once I was absolutely certain no one else was around, I left the closet, then crept down the hall. My bare feet sank into the plush carpet that ran the length of the chilly stone floor. I didn’t know exactly which room Garrett was in, but I didn’t need to—my nose led me right to him, following his masculine scent to a corner suite. Dammit. I couldn’t very well press my ear to the door out here—guards would see me coming down either of the two corridors that crossed here.

  Good thing I brought my picks, I thought, moving to the room next to Garrett’s sitting room. My shifter eyes needed no additional light, and I was inside within seconds. I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could, then hurried over to the wall adjoining this room to Garrett’s so I could listen in.

  “You may not be aware of it, Pillick, but there’s an ancient law forbidding mages to teach our lore to outsiders,” Garrett was saying, and I grinned a little—they were still up, just as I thought. Mages didn’t sleep much as a general rule, so Garrett must have decided to stay up late and plot with his assistant. “Lord Iannis, who is older than I by a considerable margin, must be perfectly aware of it. Yet it looks very likely that he has been teaching this pet shifter of his Loranian or magical theory. We came here to catch Thorgana Mills, but that does not mean we should simply overlook any other crimes that come to our notice.”

  “Even if we could prove exactly where Fenris acquired his knowledge,” Harron said, sounding skeptical, “it would be a misdemeanor at best. Indicting Lord Iannis for such a small offense would only make us look petty, Sir. He is practically a war hero. Unless we find something much worse to charge him with, I would advise against it, from a public relations perspective.”

  “Agreed,” Garrett said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. I was sure it rankled the hell out of him to hear his rival referred to as a war hero. “Let’s keep our eyes open, though. Lord Iannis may be perfectly innocent, of course, and his courage is beyond doubt, but I have a gut feeling that this foreign-born Chief Mage may not have the Federation’s best interests at heart, or respect our laws as much as he ought. The Minister is considering him as a possible successor, and we would be remiss if we did not exercise due diligence. We cannot afford to have a traitor holding the reins of our country.”

  I clenched my fists as rage heated my blood, fighting against the urge to punch through the wall and grab Garrett by the throat. If I thought violence would solve anything, I would have already broken down his door. But Garrett was a powerful mage, and although I was strong, I was still an apprentice. I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a duel, and even if I did, the Minister would punish me for injuring or killing one of his highest officials. No, I had to outsmart Garrett, not out-muscle him.

  “Of course, Director,” the assistant said smoothly, no doubt catching onto the undertones of Garrett’s statement. The bastard wasn’t really concerned about Iannis’s loyalties—anyone with half a brain could see that Iannis had the Federation’s best interests at heart. Garrett just wanted to eliminate him as a rival, and Pillick would be more than happy to assist, as it would put him that much closer to a position of power as well. “While we are here, I will do some digging into our host’s background and confirm there is nothing untoward.”

 
“Make sure you’re discreet,” Garrett warned. “It would be awkward if Lord Iannis or his staff were to learn that we are looking into him. I still feel we should focus our efforts on our host’s wolf-shifter friend to start with. I believe he spends a lot of time in the library, so perhaps the head librarian can tell us more about this highly unlikely scholarship of his.”

  “I will interview her tomorrow, after our breakfast with Miss Baine,” Pillick declared, and my stomach sank. By Magorah, they were going to drag Janta into this?

  They retired shortly afterward, and I slipped out of the guest room. I desperately wanted to run to the library and leave Janta a note on her desk, warning her not to give away any information about Fenris, but the library was too close to where the guards were stationed. I wouldn’t be able to get in and out unseen. And there would be no sneaking out to warn her—the guards would definitely see that.

  Riding the edge of exhaustion now, I snuck back into Iannis’s room, then stripped off my clothes and cuddled into bed next to him. He grumbled a little in his sleep, but his long arms tucked me against him, my back to his chest, and he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. Sparks skipped along my bare skin, and I relaxed, a smile coming to my lips despite everything. With a deep sigh, I forced myself to let go of my problems and finally sink into sleep. I’d need all my wits about me to deal with Garrett tomorrow.

  9

  “So,” Garrett said as he slathered cream cheese and lox onto his onion bagel at breakfast the next morning. “Do you have any idea what Thorgana may be planning, Sunaya? You have spent more time with her than I—what sort of revenge would she be plotting?”

  I was silent for a moment as I chewed on my mouthful of bacon, considering. “She’s not one for silent strikes in the night,” I finally said, reaching for my glass of orange juice. “She’ll want to make a big splashy statement with her strike, and take out as many mages as possible. Shifters, too, if she can, but mages are her priority. She’d destroy all of us if she could.”

  “Do you think she still has any of those dangerous viruses?” Pillick asked. He’d ordered steak and eggs, and I’d done my best to avoid enviously eyeing his plate. “I know the labs in Osero and Garai have been destroyed, but some of their products may have been shipped out before you got there. She might have stashed them in other locations.”

  “She did have some deadly concoction around her neck when we captured her,” I said, a chill running down my spine as I remembered the thick, bright red smoke that had exploded from the shattered vial. Iannis had contained it before it could touch us, but a sense of wrongness had pervaded my being at the sight of that stuff. I knew if it had touched us, we would have died. “I sincerely hope that she doesn’t have more, but that would be wishful thinking.”

  “Indeed,” Garrett agreed, his golden-brown eyebrows drawing together. “It’s a pity Lord Iannis wasn’t able to collect a sample of it to study.”

  I ignored the subtle dig, and instead launched into a discussion of our plans for the day. We agreed that visits to the Enforcers Guild and the Shiftertown Inspector were necessary, to enlist their assistance and offer bounties for useful information. We also decided to visit the Herald and the Shifter Courier, and question Thorgana’s known associates. If there was time left in the day, we would take a trip to Prison Isle and interview the few high-level Resistance members languishing there who had worked with her personally.

  “This is a good start,” Garrett said, scanning the list of names I’d compiled of those I believed to be part of Thorgana’s social circle, “but a woman of Thorgana’s status would have more friends and associates than this. We should pass by the library and check the archives of any society magazines that would have reported on her many parties.”

  My shoulders tensed at the mention of the library, but I only nodded. “That’s a good idea. I can go ahead and do that, then meet you at the Enforcers Guild a little later.”

  “Nonsense,” Garrett said, waving his hand. “I’ve a fondness for libraries, and we’ll get through the task faster if all three of us work on it together.”

  My stomach sank—I’d hoped I could find a way to stall them, so I could get to Janta first. But Garrett was chomping at the bit to get going, and he was right—it really didn’t make sense for us to split up right now. My appetite gone, I finished up the few morsels left on my plate, then forced myself to escort Garrett and his assistant to the library.

  As we passed the main entrance lobby, a small commotion at the front door caught my attention, and we paused. My eyes widened briefly in surprise as four mage guards brought in an old man dressed in clerical robes. He’d lost a little weight, his white hair was thinner, and there were circles beneath his eyes, but there was no mistaking him—it was Father Calmias, brought back from Prison Isle.

  “How interesting,” Garrett said, his eyes gleaming as he studied the prisoner. He would recognize him from the photos in the press—articles demanding his release appeared nationwide, almost every day. “That such an old, frail-looking human could be the cause of so much trouble.”

  “You have no idea,” I growled under my breath as I watched the guards herd Father Calmias past us. Our eyes clashed, and he lifted his chin, somehow managing to look down his nose at me despite the heavy manacles dragging at him. As if I were the scumbag who’d preached violence and genocide. “Iannis is going to interview him this morning.”

  “That is something I wouldn’t miss for the world,” Garrett said. To my supreme annoyance, he turned to follow Father Calmias and his escort. “Harron, you and Miss Baine can go on to the library without me. I will meet you later to go to the Enforcers Guild.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pillick said, and if he was annoyed at being left behind, he didn’t show it. The two of us continued on to the library, and the tension in my gut grew heavier with each step of the way.

  Maybe Janta won’t be there today, I thought fervently as we approached the library doors. Tinari could have gotten sick, and she might have had to stay home with her. Not that I would wish that on the little girl, but she would recover from a cold. Fenris would not recover from an execution.

  Unfortunately for me, not only was Janta in the library, but so was Tinari, the sweet little girl who’d been rejected by her human parents when she’d tested positive for magic. Janta was quietly talking with a mage who was seated at one of the tables, piles of old tomes obscuring much of him, but she straightened up as soon as we came in. Tinari, who was comfortably curled up in a corner with pillows, blankets, and a stack of books, waved cheerfully to me. But her smile immediately dissipated at the sight of Pillick, and she ducked her head back down behind the leather-bound book she was reading. I would have to find some time to talk to her later.

  “Sunaya,” Janta said warmly, coming to greet us. “What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

  “Hi, Janta.” I smiled, pleased with the genuine happiness in her tone. Janta had been coolly professional when we’d first met, but as time had gone by, we’d become friends and allies. “This is Mr. Harron Pillick, from the Department of Federal Security.” Though my smile didn’t waver, I did my best to convey a warning look with my eyes. He’s not trustworthy, I tried to say without speaking, and Janta’s eyes briefly flickered before she nodded ever so slightly. “Mr. Pillick, this is Janta Urama, our Head Librarian. She provided invaluable help in identifying Thorgana Mills as the Benefactor.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Pillick said, inclining his head. He sounded as if he meant it, but then, Janta was a fellow mage. He had no reason to look down on her.

  “Mr. Pillick and I are here to look at the magazine archives,” I said, before Pillick could get in a word about Fenris. Lowering my voice, I briefly explained about our investigation into Thorgana. “We’re specifically looking for high-society magazines that would have reported on her parties and particular friendships.”

  “I can certainly help you with that,” Janta said, a note of disdain entering her voice. “I u
sed to believe that woman made a career out of throwing parties. Of course, I know better now,” she said as she led us back to the magazine archives, “but I still find it hard to change my image of her as a vapid socialite whose only purpose in life was to spend her father’s money.”

  I wish that was all Thorgana was, I grumbled to myself as we began searching through the drawers full of magazines. Luckily, they were organized by publication date and title, but finding the ones we wanted was still a time-consuming task.

  “Miss Urama,” Pillick said in a faux-casual tone as we sorted through the magazines, “I had the pleasure of meeting the resident shifter scholar, Fenris, last night. I assume the two of you are well acquainted?”

  “He spends much of his time here,” Janta said, her tone carefully neutral. “And often comes to me when there is some obscure reference he has trouble tracking down. So yes, we are acquainted.”

  “How long has he been studying magical theory here?” Pillick asked. “It seems like such an unusual occupation for a shifter.”

  “I’m a shifter, and I study magical theory,” I said coolly.

  “Yes, but you are also a mage,” Pillick said dismissively. “Fenris, on the other hand, cannot actually use any of the magic he studies, which is why I find his interest so curious.”

  “He has been studying it the entirety of the three years he’s been here,” Janta said, interrupting us, “but it was obvious to me from the very start that he was already quite advanced. The esoteric titles he was asking for when he first came here, plus the level of knowledge he regularly exhibits in our conversations, indicate he must have been studying the subject for decades.”