by Jayne Castel
Leaning up against the smoothly sanded wood, she cast a bleary-eyed gaze around her new lodgings. Like the rest of this fortress, the room was austere. Cell-like with unadorned walls and a freshly scrubbed flagstone floor, it had a single shuttered window. A narrow sleeping pallet rested against one wall with a low table next to it, where a jug of water and a wooden cup sat. Her leather pack sat against the wall, her cloak on a peg behind the door.
It was the first time she’d had any real privacy since leaving Orin. Yet she found herself not caring about the relative comfort. It was hard to feel grateful when you were under house-arrest.
Yawning, Lilia crossed to the bed and sat down. After the evening’s events, she felt bone-weary. It hurt her head even to think. She unbuckled her boots and kicked them off before lying down, fully clothed on the bed.
I’ll undress in a moment.
That was her last thought before sleep claimed her.
Lilia awoke with a raging thirst, rumbling stomach and a headache. She opened her eyes to see pale sunlight filtering in through the cracks in the shutters.
She sat up and rubbed sleep frown her eyes, attempting to get her bearings.
Where am I? Why am I so tired?
Memories of the day before crashed over her like a breaking wave, and she stifled a groan.
The Council.
Ryana.
House arrest.
Downing a cup of stale water, Lilia rose to her feet. Then, she crossed to the window and threw open the shutters.
Although it was a dull morning, she squinted against the light. Fog shrouded the surrounding peaks, but she could still see for leagues down the green valley. It was if she stood high upon a mountain eyrie. A thick, dark blanket of conifers covered the lower slopes of the mountains followed by a patchwork of fields below. The river was little more than a silver thread at this height. Once again, the sun hid behind a bank of low cloud.
“Finally, you’re awake—I’ve been watching you snore for hours.”
Lilia turned to the sound of her shadow’s voice—one that no longer terrified her as it once had. Even so, she wanted to see where it was lurking this morning. She found it, lolling against the wall, stretched out so tall that it was nearly twice her height. “I don’t snore.”
“You do when you sleep on your back.”
Lilia leaned against the stone window ledge and folded her arms across her chest. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m pleased you finally have a chamber to yourself,” her shadow continued. “I get tired of whispering in your ear when the others are around.”
“Did you see what happened at the Council last night?” Lilia asked, ignoring her shadow’s chatter. Her temples ached and she felt weak and tired—she wasn’t in the mood for banter.
“I did.”
“So you know I’m a prisoner here?”
“I do—and it’s not good news for me.”
Lilia huffed. “It’s not great for me either.”
“Yes but it probably means they’re planning on taking the stone from you at some point,” her shadow replied, slithering along the wall toward her like an oil stain, “and if they do that, I cease to exist.”
Lilia shifted uncomfortably, willing her shadow not to come any closer. The sight of it didn’t send her into a mindless panic as it once had, yet even so she didn’t trust it.
“You’re afraid?” she asked, curious.
“Not really,” it drawled, placing spidery hands on the window ledge and peering out at the gloomy morning, “only frustrated. I’ve had such fun of late, seen and lived so much. Now I feel trapped, like my wings have been clipped.”
Lilia considered its words and felt an unexpected stab of pity. She forgot that the world was new to her shadow. All the things she took for granted—the feel of the wind on her face, the smell of wood smoke, the sound of birdsong—were exciting discoveries to it.
Lilia’s stomach growled, reminding her that she had not eaten since noon the day before. She felt light-headed and slightly sick; she needed to eat. It was time to find the others.
“We’ll continue this conversation later,” she promised her shadow before turning away from the window. “If I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to collapse. Plus, I need to find out what they’ve got planned for me.”
She stepped out into the corridor to find two men attired in charcoal robes waiting outside her chamber. Lilia hadn’t seen them before—neither had been at last night’s council. They were both young, barely older than her, and they watched Lilia with interest as she stepped outside her chamber and pulled the door shut.
One of the young men, who was stocky with curly brown hair, smiled at her. “Good morning, Lilia—my name’s Gunner. Did you sleep well?”
Lilia didn’t smile back. “Fine, thank you. Where are the others?”
“In the feasting hall, having breakfast,” the young man replied, still smiling. “Come, we shall take you to them.”
They led Lilia down three levels to a great hall situated on the ground level of the House of Light and Darkness. Despite its size, the feasting hall was as austere and sparsely furnished as Lilia’s chamber. Long wooden tables lined the rectangular space and low hearths burned at each end, taking the chill off the damp air. There was a raised dais at the far end of the hall, where Thrindul and a select group of enchanters sat.
Lilia was dismayed to see both Dain and Saul were seated with the High Enchanter. Her step slowed as she crossed the hall, aware that all eyes were now upon her. There were at least sixty men and women in this hall, breaking their fast, and they all seemed to be staring at her.
Lilia ignored them, her gaze fixing instead upon the fresh bread and butter, porridge, cream and honey that lined the tables. The aroma made her aching stomach twist. However, despite her hunger, she approached the dais reluctantly. Thrindul frightened her; she’d have preferred to have breakfast elsewhere.
“Morning.” She greeted them, taking a seat next to Dain on a low bench halfway down the table.
Opposite, Saul gave her a lazy smile before dipping a piece of bread in broth. “Slept well?”
“Like the dead.”
Dain gave her a sidelong glance. “No one bothered you overnight?”
She shook her head, helping herself to a big bowl of porridge. “I bolted the door from the inside.” She reached for a pot of cream and poured it generously over her porridge.
“You are safe here,” Thrindul’s voice boomed across the table. He sat at the head, flanked by Asher and the auburn-haired woman, Irana. His white hawk sat, hunched on the back of his chair, watching Lilia with pitiless, gleaming eyes. “There is no need to fear for your safety.”
Lilia shrugged. “If you say so.” She knew her gesture and tone were dismissive, rude even, but she wasn’t happy here and couldn’t pretend she was. Steeling herself, she met Thrindul’s eye. It was time, she got some answers out of these people. “How long are you keeping me here?”
Thrindul gave a long-suffering sigh. “As long as necessary.”
“What does that mean?”
“We must discuss the best way forward, and King Nathan must eventually be informed.” Thrindul’s face pinched as he spoke of the king. “Asher’s observations last night worried me—I want to do some research before decisions are made.”
Lilia clenched her jaw. She’d never met a man who could speak so pompously yet say so little. “So what's going to happen to Ryana?”
“That's not your concern,” the High Enchanter replied before taking a bite of bread.
“Why do you care anyway?” Saul smirked from across the table. “Ryana used you—used all of us to try and buy forgiveness.”
“I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” Lilia replied. She remembered the sorrow, the desperation, in Ryana’s eyes the night before. “You’ve got a short memory, Saul. Have you forgotten how many times she saved us on the journey here?” She glanced back at Thrindul. “Surely you won’t lock her up
forever?”
The High Enchanter’s strong-featured face tensed. “You don’t seem to grasp the gravity of what your friend did,” he rumbled. “She didn’t just betray her Order—she gave part of The King Breaker to a group whose sole purpose is to free The Shadow King. She risked the ruin of us all.”
“Incarceration is too good for her,” Irana muttered from Thrindul’s left. Her angular face was sharp in the watery light filtering in from the high windows. “But now she’s in the Vault I hope she rots there.”
Lilia didn't answer. Thrindul seemed to think her a fool, but she did understand what Ryana had done. Only watching Ryana being dragged away, her face gaunt and ashen, Lilia had realized that she considered the woman her friend.
Now, the realization that Ryana might never again see daylight upset Lilia.
“Worry not, Lilia,” Brand, the young man with the chubby face, spoke up. “Ryana won’t come to any harm.” He gave her a mildly flirtatious look. “You have our thanks for bringing The King Breaker to us. You must be tougher than you look, to have kept the stone safe for so many months.”
Lilia frowned before motioning to the two men who sat near her. “Dain and Saul are a large reason why the stone’s safe.”
“Then our thanks go to them too.”
“I’m touched by your gratitude.” Saul eyed Brand over the rim of his tankard of milk. “Does it mean Dain and I can stay here for a few days longer?”
“We will seek an audience with the king in the next day or two,” Thrindul informed him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay until that’s over with.”
Saul raised a dark eyebrow. “Why?”
“The king’s trust in this Order took a severe blow ten years ago—and it’s never been restored. It’s important you are with us when we go before King Nathan, otherwise he might think we have deceived him in some way. You can tell him how you found the stone.”
Saul’s mouth twisted. “I’m not sure I want the King of Rithmar to know of my presence here. Reoul of Anthor’s son won’t be welcome.”
Thrindul tensed. “Lie to him of your real identity if you wish.”
Lilia swallowed a mouthful of porridge and exchanged a wary glance with Dain. She hadn’t warmed to the High Enchanter the night before; but she liked him even less this morning. There was something vain and scheming about him, as if he was constantly plotting, planning to ensure each situation worked out to his advantage.
She was aware then that her right thigh pressed gently against Dain’s under the table. The contact sent a frisson of heat down her leg. Layers of clothing separated them, but the firmness of his thigh against hers made a strange excitement churn in the pit of her belly.
It was distracting.
Discreetly, she shifted her leg to the left so they were no longer touching. She felt his gaze remain on her, willing her to meet his once more, but she pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the half-empty bowl of porridge before her.
“I hear you saw Asher at work yesterday?” Brand’s question came as a welcome interruption.
Lilia nodded, remembering the miraculous way he’d healed that farmer’s terrible leg wound. “Aye, he has incredible skill.”
Brand grinned, before glancing over at Asher. “Her cheeks are pink—looks like you’ve got yet another admirer.”
Lilia froze, aware that her cheeks were warm—although not for the reason Brand supposed. Fortunately, Asher didn’t dignify the younger man’s comment with a response, merely bestowing him with a withering look.
Oblivious to Asher’s cool reaction, or the glare Dain was now fixing him with, Brand turned back to Lilia, still smiling. “Would you like to see how the Dark is wielded?” he asked.
“She already has,” Dain answered, his tone clipped. “Ryana gathered the Dark a number of times on the way here.”
Brand’s smile didn’t slip. “Ah, but it’s not the same thing as watching us at work in the Hall of Charms. There’s a session this morning, you’re all welcome to attend.”
Lilia glanced at Dain once more, and saw he was frowning, his narrowed gaze still fixed upon Brand.
He’s jealous, she realized with a jolt. Clearly he didn’t like Brand’s clumsy attempts to flirt with her.
“Shall we?” she asked, before glancing over at Saul.
Saul shrugged. “If it’ll pass the time, why not?” He then shot Dain a challenging look, coupled with a wicked smile. “Are you joining us, or will I have Lilia’s company all to myself?”
Dain glared at him. “No chance.”
29
Charms
Dain stepped outside and raised his face to the pale sky. It seemed like weeks since he’d last felt the sun on his skin, and the endless chill and grey skies were starting to wear him down.
He glanced over at Lilia and saw she too was looking up at the low clouds. He wondered if she believed The King Breaker was the cause of the dark days. “Do you think Asher’s right?” he asked.
She sighed. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t listen to everything Asher tells you.” Brand had exited the House of Light and Darkness behind them with Irana at his side. “He’s got a fanciful imagination.”
Dain frowned. Honestly, he preferred Asher to Thrindul—and had found him sincere. Next to Brand, Irana gave a chill smile. “Asher’s got a way with words,” she murmured, by way of explanation. “I wouldn’t trust him.”
Dain shared a glance with Lilia and saw the confusion in her eyes.
Don’t listen to them, he wanted to say. Make your own opinions. However, with Saul standing to his right, and the two enchanters standing within earshot, he said nothing.
The thud of heavy booted feet approaching, the rattle of iron and the creak of leather, caused all of them to turn from their conversation. A group of soldiers climbed the cobbled King’s Way beneath them. They wore leather armor, iron helms and shoulder guards. The company reached the small group standing outside the grim fortress at the top of the incline. They were carrying biers, transporting the injured to the Hall of Healing.
The men hailed them as they headed toward the door to the hall, and Dain saw they bore other soldiers—their limbs bloodied, faces ashen.
“Ho,” Brand called out. “What happened to your men?”
“Hiriel attacked the outer wall last night,” one of the soldiers at the head of the group replied. He was a grizzled older man with a thick scar disfiguring his right cheek.
Brand frowned. “Weren’t there Enchanters of the Light protecting the wall?”
The soldier nodded. “Aye—but one of them collapsed halfway through the night, and let the net slip. A moment later, the Hiriel broke through.”
Brand and Irana shared a look. “Does Asher know of this?” Irana asked.
The soldier nodded. “He’s the one who’s ordered us to bring the seriously injured up to the hall.”
“Come.” Brand put a hand on Irana’s sleeve, drawing her attention. “Let them tend to their wounded. We’re late for the audience.”
Dain was the last to enter the Hall of Charms.
The chatter of excited voices hit him as he followed the others inside. A crowd of around fifty men and women awaited them—the noise easing slightly as Brand and Irana clove a path through their midst.
Like its sister hall on the other side of the building, the Hall of Charms was long and thin with unadorned stone walls and a high beamed ceiling. But unlike the Hall of Healing it was dimly lit—illuminated by only a handful of small cressets on the walls. Long shadows stretched over the waiting crowd.
A raised wooden platform sat at the far end, with two chairs upon it. A small group of enchanters, wearing robes of the Dark, stood waiting behind the chairs. They appeared relieved to see Brand and Irana approach.
The two enchanters stepped up onto the platform and sat down upon the chairs, while Dain, Lilia and Saul moved to stand with the group behind them.
“Big crowd,” Saul murmured to the young
dark-haired female enchanter beside him, favoring her with a charming smile.
She gave him an appraising look. “They are of late—folk are growing desperate.”
“They look to us for answers we can’t give,” the man next to her added. “They expect miracles.”
“May the first requester come forward,” Brand called out, breaking the expectant hush that had fallen over the hall.
A heavy-set middle-aged man dressed in work-stained breeches and a woolen tunic approached the platform. A woman hung back behind him. Her face was thin and pinched, although her eyes were hard as she stared into the man’s back.
Brand leaned forward in his chair, meeting the man’s gaze.
Dain studied the enchanter. Brand was an interesting individual. Young to have such a position of authority within the Order, he had the face of a lad but the manner of a man much older. He was a contradiction, and Dain wasn’t sure he trusted him. That didn’t come as a surprise—with the exception of Asher he didn’t trust many of the Order he’d met so far. They’d entered a snake pit and would be lucky if they escaped without getting bitten.
Dain had watched the council discussing Lilia’s fate the night before, and had found it difficult to swallow his fury—he was still angry over it.
He stole a glance at Lilia, to find her attention upon the man who’d just approached the platform.
She’s taking this better than I would.
A surge of protectiveness swept over him. Thrindul had made her a prisoner here, but Dain had to keep her safe.
He’d come on this journey on a whim—yes, it had been to help Lilia but also to get away from the stifled confines of his old life at The Grey Anchor. But the farther he’d traveled with Lilia, the stronger his pull had been to her. He hadn’t meant to kiss her that day while they were collecting wood; it had been an impulse he’d been unable to resist. Yet he didn’t regret it.
He’d not been able to stop thinking about her ever since.
He wanted to kiss her again, to talk to her alone, but Thrindul had ensured that could never happen.
