Tabor held his eyes, and the Mages fell silent as all watched. Gabriel’s sharp and hard gaze bored into the Mage who could not bear to break contact.
“My son will…” he began, though his lip trembled. “You answer to him and….” His voiced faded as Gabriel bored unblinking into him. “Mercy,” he whispered at last.
“And why do you deserve mercy, Tabor Novacula?”
The man’s mouth moved silently. “I do not.”
Gabriel held his eyes a bit longer. “That is correct. You will lay the Air sidestep, and the Mage Council will deal with you upon arrival.”
An Air Mage dressed in a long coat of gray stepped up with an amplifier-pattern in his hand and held it up to Gabriel’s mouth without his asking. “Join up. Everyone make connections. We are leaving presently,” his strong voice said to the masses. The Mages immediately started joining hands and a dozen laid on him. “Mikelle,” he muttered, “kindly move your hand off my—that is not a better place—that is acceptable.”
Chapter 21
Robyn’s world reeled, and she felt stuck in a dream with her feet not quite on the ground. She sat across the table from Gabriel in the Queen’s anteroom as he talked with Council Members, giving what information he could offer on Nolen’s dealings with Ryker. Cordis sat on his left cracking jokes to alleviate the tension all still felt from Ryker’s sudden appearance, and the laughter seemed to calm everyone.
She touched the tips of her left hand fingers to her thumb, reminding herself with each connection that she had a hand once more. It was flawless, not a mark, spot, freckle, or scar; creamy as the rest of her skin. It seemed strange to her to have such perfect skin since the rest of her was flawed. It had everything her previous hand had, though it felt newer and less tight in the tendons. She loved it.
Gabriel looked thinner than she remembered, and there was something in his eyes she could not remember seeing before, a certain wildness perhaps or a bewilderment, but he looked hale and healthy. From time to time he would bring a hand up to strike a finger down his neck, and he would return the hand over the opposite wrist as if protecting it. She did not pity him, but she felt sorry in a sense. Though, when his eyes met hers, as they did often, she was reminded of their years alone and comforted in knowing he would be fine no matter what he endured.
Behind him, she watched servants moving quietly in the corners as they packed up Queen Miranda’s things. Word had quickly spread of Robyn’s claim to the throne and Miranda’s legitimacy. Once questioned, the library was a flutter of historians trying to uncover Miranda’s true line, but nothing could be found. They took the Queen on her word. Further research was done on Robyn to assure she was the heiress. A coronation was already in the works, though it had taken Gabriel clarifying her claim to get people moving.
She smirked. People were already looking to him as some kind of leader. His powerful Class put him above all the others. She would outrank him in Anatoly, but outside her borders he would be her overseer.
The Arconian, Mikelle, sat beside Robyn, a teacup perched on the tips of her fingers as she watched and listened to the Council. The tea was getting cold and remained full, though she twirled her fingers every so often, and steam rose from it again. Robyn did not quite know what to think of the woman. Mikelle watched Gabriel with a gentle intensity under her narrow eyes with a look Robyn knew all too well.
“You love him, do you deny it?” Robyn asked quietly.
Mikelle turned with a calm look. “Not the way you do.”
“You say that to make me feel better.”
“Highness, I had many occasions to steal his heart and…the rest of him…” she smirked slyly and gave a sigh, “But I would not. You need not worry.”
“Oh, but I do,” Robyn answered coolly. “I know why the Arconians are here.”
“I didn’t lie with him,” Mikelle offered softly. “I love him truly, but as a dear friend not a lover. I do not wish to make enemies with you, Highness. In fact, I think we have similar intentions and could be friends.”
‘Well, I don’t have any friends yet.’ “What are these intentions?”
She jerked her head in Gabriel’s direction. “See him succeed and recover—and get him out of his shirt.”
Robyn had taken that moment to sip her tea but found herself coughing it up as Mikelle smirked satisfactorily. Gabriel looked at the two of them and furrowed his brows. “You two shouldn’t be talking.”
“On the contrary,” Robyn replied and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I think we should be. How do you propose we do this, friend Mikelle?”
“I don’t want to know,” Gabriel muttered and returned to his conversation.
Mikelle sat there chuckling for a few moments and flicked her fingers making her tea steam again. This time she sipped it. “I have my ways. I will inform you when I have something planned—fear not.”
They sat in silence, listening to the various conversations around them. Aisling and General Calsifer talked in hushed tones with a Castellan. Galloway, Adelaide, and Markus discussed reinforcing Kilkiny with patterns. Now and again a servant approached Aisling, and she directed them.
“That bowshot was expert.” Mikelle offered a conversation.
“Hardly. I missed. Though I suppose his heart is a small, shriveled thing and would be hard to hit at any distance.” They chuckled and sipped their tea.
“What happened to him?” Robyn asked Mikelle, her eyes never off Gabriel.
“Specifically when?”
“When he was tortured, for starters.”
“I was not here for it,” Mikelle replied.
There was one question she wanted an answer to but dared not ask it. Mikelle put a brow up when Robyn fell silent and waited with an expectant face. “Did he lie with your people?” she asked, her voice hardly a whisper. Mikelle had to lean in to hear.
“That is a question for him to answer,” she replied and looked in his direction. “But I could not say either way.”
Robyn breathed easier. “Tomorrow I am going to visit judgment on Queen Cathlyn, but you are exempt.”
“There are three others in my party.”
“Then they are exempt. They are welcome to stay as long as Gabriel permits it.”
Lael finally stood. “Let us give Mage Gabriel and Princess Robyn back their families until supper,” he announced to the room.
Robyn rose. “I hope you will all join us in the King’s Hall at sunset.”
The people agreed and bade her a pleasant afternoon. Cordis, Aisling, Robyn and Gabriel were left to themselves. Balien had been out all afternoon re-orchestrating the Air Guard with Lieutenant Lex and had not seen fit to join them yet.
“You must all have a lot of questions,” Aisling said as she came to join Robyn.
‘Some that cannot be asked in front of you.’ Robyn searched her mind for more questions. She would be raised to Queen in a week. Miranda’s titles would be removed, along with Princess Kindle’s and Prince Nolen’s, and the women would be sent to one of the Novacula estates to live out their lives far from Anatoly City. Orders were given to kill Nolen if he showed his face, and a decree was being drafted for his capture. The Arconians would be banished on the morrow, and Robyn would move into her new apartments that evening.
“Where will I be required to live?” Gabriel asked before Robyn could find a question.
“Here,” she replied while Aisling answered “Jaden,” and Cordis stated “Not Urima.”
Aisling gave a gentle but authoritative smile. “The Mages will need you in Jaden to protect them.”
“Jaden has unbreachable walls,” Robyn cut in.
“It is not so simple. Lael will discuss it with you later,” Aisling nodded to Gabriel.
‘But, but he is supposed to be mine. He is supposed to marry me and stay here and give me Princesses and Princes of my own.’ Heat rose in her neck, and she swallowed to keep it back. She could not leave Kilkiny to be with him, and he could not leave Jaden, so how could
they be together?
“Mage Tabor will not agree to sidestep as your Air lackey will he?” she asked quickly. The man remained secured in the dungeons in the room his son so prized.
“He will not need to. Lace may agree to stay.”
“An Arconian?”
Gabriel nodded. “I can be here in a moment.”
She nodded thoughtfully though noticed he fixed her with a gentle look a little longer than he usually paid a face. He must have felt her concern.
“I will remain here with Robyn, but your father will accompany you to Jaden.”
“We got the sweeter end of that deal, believe me,” Cordis whispered. “No women and a castle full of hop houses—we’ll get in a wicked lot of trouble the first night, believe me. You know each hop house has its own brewery?”
“Hop house—hops—I figured it out….” Gabriel shot his eyes to the ceiling. “And there are plenty of women in the castle.”
“Yes. Yes there are,” Cordis grinned. “But don’t worry, Roby, I’ll keep him out of trouble.”
“Locked in his room would be best,” Aisling interjected.
“Little good ever happened then,” Gabriel muttered, his gaze far off for a moment, but Cordis laughing at Aisling prevented either parent from hearing.
“My lady,” a servant said approaching, “the rooms are ready for your approval.”
Aisling set aside her tea and followed the woman to Robyn’s new rooms. She had yet to see them herself, but had fond memories of her mother inside. In fact, Robyn swore she could smell her mother’s perfume still lingering about.
“You will stay here while you remain in Kilkiny, won’t you?” Robyn asked Gabriel and pointed to his room.
He raised his eyes. “Of course.”
Cordis interjected, “I’m not sure it’s good to have you two so close to each other—Roby stop using contractions, it’s not Queenly—so we should probably move you, my boy.”
Gabriel gave his father a pinched look. “I spent two years alone with her in a various range of small cabins. If I did not take my pleasure then, I won’t now.”
“You never know. The lust after battle is well known by fighting Mages.”
“Neither of us want to know what you do, Cordis,” Robyn replied with a smile. Gabriel ran a hand down his face with a grimace and a shudder.
“I need a nap,” he muttered and stood, leaving the two of them alone.
Cordis fixed her with a pleasant grin like he used to back in the better years. “Ready to be Queen, little Roby?”
“I am.”
“I can still call you Roby, can’t I?”
She grinned. “Of course you can.” She looked over her shoulder at Gabriel’s closed door. “You’ll—you will—be sure to take care of him in Jaden, will you not?”
Cordis looked at the door. “He needs help only he can find. To endure what he has, no man can ease that burden, so he will have to find a way to cope, and I will bet you will play a part in it.” She raised her brows. “The best way to recover is to divulge, and seeing as you are his closest accomplice, he will come to you first. Be ready to hear him, and be strong where he cannot be.”
“How can I, Cordis? I’ve heard stories and rumors enough to turn my hair white. What happens when I hear them from his own tongue?”
“Can’t tell you, I wouldn’t know. The important thing is to accept them as past events and move on. No one can change what happened, so why ruminate over the facts?”
She felt tears in her eyes. “Cordis, did he?” she paused to collect herself, her vision watering. “The Arconians—did he?”
Cordis shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “But you need to prepare yourself if he did.”
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes with her cloth napkin. “I know. It’s selfish of me to be so emotional over it.”
“It’s an emotional thing,” he agreed. “But I won’t get into details.”
She grinned. “I don’t want to know what you do, Cordis.”
Chapter 22
Freedom was a powerful word, and yet still undefined. Freedom meant one could come and go as he pleased and do as he wished, but Gabriel was confined by the things seen and done when he was not free. He laid on his back in his bed, unable to sleep more than a few minutes, staring at the endless square patterns of red, gold, and black in his canopy. Freedom was a wonderful notion, and he was overjoyed to have his Elements back, but he found he still winced when someone knocked on the door. He no longer felt broken, but he wondered if part of him would always remain wounded where Nolen left his imprint. His memories would always be haunted.
Despite his calm nature, Gabriel wracked with anger against Nolen, and a lust for revenge plagued him from the moment he could assess his fate in the Castrofax. Yet as the days and weeks passed, he found himself less driven. Now that he was free and had a true shot at revenge, he dwelled on it when he could not sleep, planning an attack and mulling over every situation. He was leagues ahead of Nolen’s comprehension of the Elements, and even with the Silex, Gabriel was confident he could outdo the Prince. ‘He’s no longer a Prince. I should start thinking of him as the Mage he is.’
He wanted the death to be spectacular and public, but the more he dwelled on it, he realized he was becoming like Nolen. The Mage was ruthless and cold. The scenes Gabriel envisioned were just as dark as the man had been.
The Secondhand had seen to funeral arrangements for Head Mage Casimir Brynmor. Gabriel could not fathom how one man could trade a healthy life for a broken man. ‘Did Casimir know I would rise whole and unburdened? He could only have hoped for it. He died unknowing what would become of the race he worked for over thirty years to strengthen. I will do all I can to save them, I promise.’
Gabriel felt kinetic energy brush his senses before a knock sounded on his door, so he was able to prepare himself. Still, he winced. “Enter.”
An older gentleman in a handsome black vest and slender silver sleeves stepped in with a bow. “I am Skip, my lord. Princess Robyn has asked me to be your manservant while you reside in Kilkiny.” In a hand was a thin wooden box, and he revealed a cream coat. “This was King Eirian’s.”
This coat was a true treasure and unlike anything Gabriel had in his wardrobe. It was corded around the shoulders and down the chest with fine braiding laced with thread-of-gold and studded with ivory buttons. The collar was stiff and tall in the back, and the underside fringed in gold-stitched foxes. As the manservant held it up, he revealed it to have buttons up the back that laced to fit the figure.
“King Eirian had fine taste,” Gabriel marveled.
Skip wasted no time finding a pair of appropriate trousers of dark gray that fit Gabriel quite snugly, and a light gray blouse with a collar to compliment the coat. He fit the coat on Gabriel and buttoned it to the neck, smoothing it around Gabriel’s curves to better synch in the back. It reached just below his hips in the front, and the back bore a square tail split up with more cord and buttons. Skip shined a pair of black boots with a hundred laces. Gabriel adjusted his hair—which consisted of running a hand through the back—and ran a Spirit pattern over his cheeks to make sure they were shaven.
Skip insisted on lacing the boots himself, as was his duty, and tied an ivory tassel to the top of one, assuring Gabriel it was a statement the Lords made to remind even those looking at the floor that he was a highborn.
Skip handed him a pair of white gloves, which Gabriel slipped on. He let Skip straighten the collars and tail before he looked in the mirror in his washroom. “I look like a peacock.”
“A handsome one if ever there was one, my lord,” Skip chuckled and shifted a button on the collar.
Gabriel smirked and pulled a curl forward to fall over his brow. “Do I escort the Princess to dinner?”
“It would be most appropriate, yes. Please wait here, and I will fetch you when she is ready,” Skip gave a bow.
The boots felt tighter around the ankles than his usual ones, almost as thou
gh they offered their support to his mental debates—after all, the feet are the foundation of the body. If the shoes were wrong, the whole body would be thrown off. He felt stronger in a way and decided he liked the idea of tall boots compared to the short ones he grew up with.
Skip readjusted the tails of the coat and collar before he let Gabriel step into the anteroom and vanished into a corner after instructing him to wait for her at the door. ‘It’s all so proper,’ Gabriel thought as he put his hands behind his back and strode across. The door opened before he reached it, spilling forth a maid who held the door back. Robyn emerged a moment later with a rosy smile and the ending trill of a laugh on her tongue.
She wore a long ivory dress cut in Anatolian style with a high neck, bare arms, a dropped waist, and bulky skirts. It fit her so well, he had to swallow and remind himself of dead puppies. Tiny freshwater pearls were sewn around the neck stiffly and branched out to the shoulders and mid-chest, so she did not have to wear a necklace. Her ears dangled pearls to match. Her pretty gold hair pooled atop her head in twists and braids around a many-peaked silver crown encrusted with tiny white diamonds. As customary of nobles, she wore a fair powder on her face that smoothed her free of the sun on her cheeks, but unlike many women who overdid themselves, she looked effortlessly beautiful and fresh.
She stopped as she crossed the threshold and saw him. The laugh sharply died on her rouged lips. “You—” she began, but he cut her off.
“The stars above are envious of you,” he replied, not thinking how silly it sounded but letting the words spill without check.
She blushed red and put a hand on her lips. “I have never seen you look so stunning.”
“Dress any man in a fancy coat, and he becomes a gentleman.”
He offered his left elbow and she took it, leaving her maids behind as Gabriel escorted her to the door. The King’s Hall was a good walk from their quarters, down several flights of stairs, and in the far end of the East wing. Gabriel relished every moment with her on his arm. Many servants gave surprised bows and pleasant greetings, but a good number more stopped when they saw him as everyone in the palace already knew his face and story.
Breaking Stars (Book 2) Page 22
