The Castrofax (Book 1)

by Jenna Van Vleet

  Aisling pulled back Gabriel’s stringy hair. She ran a thumb over his lip, stitching the skin back together to leave no scar. With a wet towel she dabbed the blood away. Her hands shook, and her face contorted again, but with a deep breath she smoothed her features. “He is very hot,” she said and put a cloth over his forehead. “I fear the wound to his hip may have been infected. If he does not wake in a day, he may not wake at all.”

  Gabriel inhaled deeply again, and one of his hands flexed an inch, but his eyes did not open. Aisling stroked his face gently, passing a thumb over his lips. “More water,” she called. Minutes passed, and a serving girl returned with a jar. Aisling took up a clean towel and dipped it in the jar, squeezing it over Gabriel’s lips. She repeated the action until he swallowed; a good sign.

  Aisling held his face in one hand and instructed the serving girl to trickle the water into his mouth. The girl’s hands were shaking as she did as told. In only a few moments, she spilled, tried to correct herself, and spilled twice the amount.

  Gabriel sputtered and coughed and to their surprise he jerked his right hand up. Aisling’s eyes widened as his fingers moved, and she grabbed his hand quickly. Balien could not see, but he was certain Gabriel had been laying a Water pattern. Gabriel gasped again, and to their relief, opened his eyes.

  He seemed fine for a moment, but just as their fears were allayed, his eyes widened and his lips parted as the world came back to him. He looked at his hand still clutching Aisling’s and saw the glinting copper band around his wrist.

  “No,” he whispered and pulled his hand from hers, groping for the neckpiece. “No,” he repeated with more urgency. He clenched his eyes shut, grappling with emotions. His hands clenched around the neckpiece as his chest shuttered. “Oh stars.”

  “I am so sorry, Gabriel,” Aisling whispered.

  Balien rose up from his crouched position and gripped Gabriel’s ankle. “You are safe in Kilkiny Palace.” Gabriel’s glossy eyes opened to meet Balien’s and looked up to Aisling’s above his face.

  “You have been mended,” she told him and wiped one of his fallen tears. “The Head Mage will be informed of what Nolen has done, and I will see you have retribution.” Gabriel’s hands remained tightly clutched around the neckpiece, and he closed his eyes. “Men, take him to the Queen’s apartments.”

  The driver stepped up. “Prince Nolen gave me strict instructions to take him to the dungeons.”

  She looked at them coolly. “Did I stutter?” They quickly grabbed ahold of the stretcher and lifted it from the table. Aisling led them up to her rooms as Balien spoke with the soldier he called Lex of the battle and journey. As Aisling requested, the third room attached to the anteroom in the Queen’s apartments had been hastily prepared. It had always been kept ready in case the Princess was to return.

  The large canopied bed turned downward, and a fire lit in the hearth in the corner. The tall windows that faced east were drawn with crimson curtains, and the candle sconces on the dark, wood-paneled walls burned to brighten the space. Palacekeeper Elian waited in a corner as they came in and shuttered at the sight of Gabriel.

  “Will you be requiring a bath drawn?” she suggested, eying the dried blood.

  Aisling glanced down at Gabriel who looked past exhaustion. “Not tonight.” The stretcher-bearers lifted Gabriel onto the bed and quietly filed out, leaving Lex and Balien inside. “Elian, you will give this Mage anything he asks for.”

  “Yes, your Ladyship,” the older woman said with a bow.

  She left, and Aisling rounded to the soldier. “Why did Nolen do this?”

  “He gave no reason, and we ask no questions, m’Lady,” Lex replied with a bow of his head.

  “Have you any motive?”

  “None I can think of, m’Lady.”

  “Seeing as you are now Mage Gabriel’s loyal soldier, you will see to it that he and I are well informed of Prince Nolen’s comings and goings.”

  “Absolutely,” Lex replied and straightened his stance.

  “I wonder why he saw fit to heal you.”

  Lex licked his lips. “I’ve wondered the same, and I think he needed an ally.”

  “Then consider yourself fortunate to have been his first. You are dismissed, Lieutenant.” Lex gave a bow and marched out. She stepped up to Gabriel’s bedside and put a hand on his arm, looking at him with a sad expression. If Gabriel was awake, he made no effort to acknowledge her. She noticed he was still dressed in blood-stained clothes, and removed his sturdy canvas shoes. “He must have made those; I recognize his hand in them. Did he begin the battle as a human or tiger?”

  “I did not see the beginin—a tiger?” Balien stopped.

  “He was a very skilled pattern-layer. Is. Is very skilled,” she corrected and unlaced the front of his trousers. Gabriel must have been asleep, for he made no effort to stop her.

  “Let me do that.”

  “He is wearing under-clothes, it is fine,” she replied. Balien pulled his hands back and gave her a pinched look. “I have undressed young men in my time,” she said, and he realized she was joking with him. For a woman who had never been married, he expected all including her eyes to be virginal. Slipping his trousers off, she pulled the blankets back over him and tucked them in around his side.

  She put a hand over Gabriel’s forehead. “He is still burning. I will stay with him tonight. I know you had a long journey, so get yourself some rest.” He knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he gave her a small nod and left her with Gabriel.

  Chapter 18

  Prince Nolen had the army move faster, but with as many wounded as they bore, it was impossible to cover the distance he desired. What should have taken two days turned into four. Nolen would have pushed them harder, but these were his sworn men, and he did not wish to incur more hatred against him. He heard them grumbling that he had knowingly slaughtered them, and while that was partially true, he did not think one man could stand against a whole army. ‘Men are easily replaced, but Mages are far rarer.’

  Of the Spirit Mages in his army, one perished and the remaining three had exhausted themselves beyond the unwritten rules of military law. He knew they could do no more until they rested, so while the army moved the Mages slept in carriages. For what had become such a small army, they moved surprisingly slow, but most of the marching were wounded. Once in Anatoly City the men could be properly tended by healers and Mages. He had made sure the cut to his lip was healed, but it left a small scar.

  On the afternoon of the fourth day, Anatoly City finally came into view. A scout who rode ahead returned with several hundred soldiers of the Queen’s Wing and a dozen healers to help the weary men. With the new help they moved much faster and were within the City’s walls in an hour.

  Leaving his Air Guard in the soldier barracks, he did not get far before the little brunet huntress with the scowl accosted him. He remembered his promise to let her see her lover for five minutes, but he never said how. Of the men in his hunting party, thirteen had survived, running for cover when they saw the battle was too much for them. Nolen told the girl he would allow her the time promised before supper when he would treat his hunting party to a feast in reward.

  He was delighted to find a fire and warm bath already drawn and a set of handsome clothes laid out for him by the hearth to warm. He had the servants well trained. After being in the saddle for weeks, the bath was much needed and deserved. The fresh air had done his digestion some good, and he found he was not so cold despite the autumnal breeze.

  Once dressed in a long black coat with green trimmings and brass buttons, along with pressed black trousers and tall black boots with a little heel to give him that much more of a height advantage, he made his way to the dungeons. He was mortified to find that not only was the Mage not there, he was staying in the Queen’s apartments. If there was one thing he despised, it was his orders being thwarted.

  His rage blinded him so greatly that by the time he arrived at the Queen’s apartments, he pushed
the guards aside and kicked the doors open without thinking. A guard grabbed for him and he slung him off shouting, “Unhand me! I am your Prince!”

  He was astonished to see Lady Aisling seated in the anteroom with the Mage, taking afternoon tea. All the more ridiculous, his prisoner wore what looked like brand new, latest-fashion clothing: white shirt laced up to his chest with tight-fitting brown trousers fitted into well-made black-and-brown leather boots with buckles up the sides. A fine belt cinched the ensemble to his slender hips. By the looks of him all his wounds had been healed, and he’d bathed and rested comfortably. Though his face was pale and drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

  Aisling spit the tea from her mouth as Nolen burst in, a most unladylike thing to do, and the Mage stood to his feet, rage painting his face. Aisling shouted obscenities and threats at him as his prisoner rounded the tea table and tried to grab Nolen’s collar. Nolen pushed his hands aside, but the Mage was quicker than he looked and slammed a palm into his chest, pushing him back against the door. Nolen swiped his hand away and brought his fist up, catching the Mage on the chin and forcing him back as his teeth clicked together.

  “Keep your hands off him!” Aisling yelled, standing. “He still has not recovered from the battle.”

  Nolen shoved him in the chest, forcing him back a stride. “He seems fine to me!”

  “I will have your hands,” the Mage threatened.

  “You dare speak to me this way?” Nolen hissed. “I have broken many a man and you will be no different.”

  “I dare you to try,” the Mage snapped.

  “You will do no such thing.” Aisling voiced.

  Nolen rounded on her. “Do not pretend you have authority over me.”

  “Oh, but I do, as Councilwoman and Advisor.”

  Nolen straightened and drew from his pocket three interlocked rings and held the control piece up to her. “With Class Ten power, I would like to see you stop me, Lady. I command the palace now.”

  The ornate door to the Queen’s apartments swung inward, and Miranda stepped out, regal in a dark orange gown trimmed in pale gold flowers. Her face fell a little when she saw Nolen. “You have returned,” she smiled thinly. “I thought I heard voices.” She came to stand closer to him. “I have heard disturbing reports of your antics,” she put a hand over the Mage’s forearm. “You have a lot to answer for.”

  Nolen knew her farce. “Do not think repeating Aisling’s words will have any affect over me. Now make yourselves presentable for court, so you can welcome my hunting party.”

  “We will do no such thing,” Aisling snapped.

  Nolen calmly looked at her. “Come with me, and I vow I will let my Mage keep his limbs and digits when I break him.” Aisling opened her mouth to retort, but the Mage put a hand on her arm to silence her. ‘Could it be he fears me a little? He is not as hot-headed as he seems.’

  As the women made for the door, Nolen pulled a thin strip of leather with a loop on one end and a locking clasp on the other from his pocket. As the Mage stepped passed him, he clipped the leash to the back of his neckpiece. The Mage stopped and turned, trying to jerk the leather from Nolen’s hand, but the Prince already had it wrapped around his wrist.

  “You will go silently as well!” Nolen snapped and pushed him forward. Aisling gave a little gasp when she saw the leash, and Nolen jerked on it extra hard for good measure.

  He led the party to the throne room, relishing every look of passing servants and guest as they gaped. It was unheard of to keep a man on a leash. Halfway down, Nolen heard the clasp unsnap as the Mage unlocked it. He wasted not a second, turning and driving his fist into his prisoner’s gut. It drove him back into the Queen’s guards who caught him from falling.

  In a violent motion Nolen looped the leather around the Mage’s neck and synched it tightly with both fist. He held it until the man’s face turned red, and he scrabbled at Nolen’s coat for breath. Nolen held his windpipe closed a moment longer and threw the man to the ground where he gasped. Power drunk, a dark smile touched his lips. Clipping the leash back onto the neckpiece, Nolen hauled him to his feet like a fallen carthorse and continued on his way. Miranda offered a comforting word to the Mage, and Nolen could not help but snicker.

  The throne room was prepared for guests at any hour, and Miranda wasted no time striding to the throne. It was a beautiful piece set upon a large dais of seven steps, carved of wood and paneled with gold. It was called the Eagle Throne because it resembled two massive wings carved to flow up and out from the seat, to give the illusion the Queen had wings. Every inch of it, including the seat, was carved of feathers. Miranda put her arms on the shoulders of the wings—the armrests—and waited for Nolen to give the next order. In that moment Nolen knew he had won when the Queen herself looked to him for direction.

  As instructed, servants laid a large pillow beside the throne, and Nolen pulled the Mage up to it. He gestured to it, and the Mage fixed his blue eyes on it with an unruffled look. ‘No, you are still hot-headed.’ Nolen grabbed the man’s shoulders and forced him to his knees with one swift, vicious movement. The man slashed out with a hand in objection and missed Nolen’s neck.

  Nolen jerked him onto his stomach, and before the Mage could push himself up, Nolen put a knee on his back. Snapping to one of the guards, he demanded for the gold cord that bound his tunic around his waist, and the guard quickly unfurled it. He grabbed the Mage’s wrists and lashed them behind his back before rising. The Mage still tried to stand. Nolen put a boot across his neck and held him to his side, one hand still grasping the leash.

  Aisling and Miranda watched in silent horror, wanting to object but feared what Nolen would do next. Aisling went to her position standing on Miranda’s right, saying nothing in the end. Nolen straightened his coat. “Let them in.”

  Robyn hated waiting. She and the remaining men from the hunting party stood outside the massive eagle-carved doors to the throne room awaiting the Queen’s admittance. They had been waiting for some time now, and with each passing minute she grew more anxious. Gabriel was behind those doors somewhere, and she desperately wanted to see him.

  His absence had awakened a deep desire in her heart, a desire she had been denying herself for some time. Gabriel was a Mage, and that would not have changed her opinion of him if he had not been so strong. Classed so high, it was only fair to the Mages that he marry a Mage and strengthen the population. By marrying her he would do nothing for his race. She liked the look of him for some time but shut it all away when he was given his Class. It could never be. But now that he was no longer hers, she wanted him. He with his black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin cut in the most masculine fashion. She wondered how she had the self-control to not take him long ago.

  General Calsifer had given her use of his quarters to bathe and change, brushing new brown dye through her hair. Refreshed, she felt ready to take on whatever Nolen could bring. She was not surprised to find the City and palace had changed little. The unfinished bridge over the Ellonine River was still unfinished; the Painted Circuit was still the nicest place to live; the harbor still smelled like fish, and the carpets in the east wing were still as plush as the day they were rolled out. The air here was not as clean as the forest, with the hundreds of burning hearth fires, but the City hummed in a way she had forgotten.

  Finally, the doors to the throne room buckled inward. She pulled up the gray scarf around her neck to hide her face. So far she saw no one she knew, but it had been so long and faces are fleeting in a child’s mind. Calsifer walked to her left with a hand on her elbow, reassuring her and reminding her to not lose her head.

  The throne room was as she remembered, brightly lit from long windows in the sides. The Eagle Throne on the far end sat like a beacon of strength, blending into the Queen’s dress to truly make her look like a bird that had just spread its wings. To her right stood Lady Aisling, hardly changed by the years, dressed in beautiful dark blue. To the left of the throne stood Nolen with a nasty sm
irk, and between the throne and Prince was a man lying on a pillow. Robyn almost stopped when she saw him, knowing the unmistakable mass of Gabriel’s wavy black locks. Calsifer gripped her elbow to prevent her from rushing to him.

  The Queen greeted them before they stopped, babbling some nonsense about how grateful she was for their help, but Robyn’s eyes and ears were only for Gabriel. She saw he struggled to rise, but Nolen’s boot on his neck stopped that. He kicked the throne, and Nolen leaned forward, silencing him. Her fury raged even higher when she saw the cord around his wrists, and the leather leash clipped to his neckpiece. She wanted to cry, scream, and claw Nolen’s face off all at the same time. The injustice was unpalatable.

  Queen Miranda offered a feast for them that evening, and welcomed them to use part of the guest quarters in the west wing to freshen. Robyn knew the insult when she heard it since the west wing was for soldiers and the dungeons. The men thanked her most respectfully, and some even offered awkward bows before they filed towards the side doors. Robyn and Calsifer remained where they were, and Miranda raised a brow realizing there was some deeper meaning here she did not understand.

  Aisling looked at Robyn with a tight throat and wide eyes, and Robyn knew the Lady had recognized her. She resisted the urge to pull her cowl up further to hide the momentary flux of adrenaline. Meeting her eyes, Aisling looked away quickly, and Robyn knew the Advisor would not give her away. All that mattered was Nolen did not know her identity. She pulled her scarf back and looked at Nolen who had his eyes on her the whole time. She did not give him the satisfaction of looking anything other than calm.

  “You promised me five minutes,” she said to the Prince.

  “So I did,” Nolen nodded. “Come and take it.”

  Robyn wasted no time. Surely Nolen would pull a trick and say her five minutes began when she walked in the door. “Your Grace, Lady Mage, would you kindly give us a moment?” she asked in her most respectful tone. She knew how to command a court as well as either woman, and her voice held authority and an entitled tone that said she was used to being obeyed. Miranda stood a little too quickly and gathered Aisling to the other side of the dais, whispering quietly. Nolen held out the leash for her, and she reached for it. He dropped it into her hand, and she pulled it back letting the leather fall to the ground. Nolen smirked and took his boot off Gabriel’s neck.