Wandfasted

by Laurie Forest

  Fain looks distraught. “Tessla, please.”

  “No. Really. Stop.” I thrust my palm out at him emphatically. “I’m thankful to you, Mage Quillen. Truly I am.” Tears sting at my eyes, and I blink them back. “You both saved me and my family. And I will never forget it. But there are a few things you should know before I leave.” My heart hammers hot and hard. I turn to Vale and lock my gaze on to his. “Like the fact that Jules Kristian, the Kelt I was with...he’s my closest friend.”

  “You might want to keep that bit of information to yourself,” Fain cautions, his voice gone low.

  I stare him down. “Jules saved my life and was going to smuggle me into Verpacia.”

  Fain shakes his head, his expression now troubled and uneasy. “It’s often best to pick and choose which people might know of these private sorts of...”

  “No,” I put in, my tone firm. “I’m not ashamed of it. And I’m glad you brought the priest in to bless me. I was glad for the ablutions.” I glance at Vale again. “My grandfather prayed for our safety day and night. Maybe you think that’s superstitious nonsense. Maybe you’ve never had anything you needed to pray for.” I’m reminded of the white bird briefly appearing that night, the image flashing in the back of my mind. “But against all the odds, we’re all here. What’s left of my family. Alive. So...perhaps Grandfather’s prayers were answered. By the Ancient One’s power.” I pointedly make the symbol of self-blessing and self-protection toward Vale.

  Vale’s jaw goes tight. He looks away, as if angered by my show of faith, and stares hatefully at the tapestried tent wall.

  “And I do, in fact, know how to read.” I look to Fain. “Are you familiar with The Realm Apothecarium?”

  “Y-yes, of course,” Fain stammers, nodding disjointedly. “That’s the premier guild text.” He gives a nervous titter and shakes his head. “I’ve a hard time making heads or tails of the bulk of it.”

  “I’ve worked every tonic in there to at least one-eighth capacity using substandard, cheap ingredients,” I state flatly.

  Fain blinks at me. “That’s, er, impressive.”

  “And Principia Mathematica. Have you studied that?”

  Fain laughs. “Of course I’ve worked out most of the sets. Almost to the end...”

  “I finished it two years ago.”

  Fain stares at me, silent.

  I turn to face Vale. He’s gone very quiet and still, but I can sense the unsettled heat churning behind his fiery gaze. “How about you, Vale? Have you worked through it?” I purposely address him informally, even though it’s considered disrespectful.

  I mean to insult him, and he knows it.

  He narrows white-hot eyes on me, his words clipped. “It was a bit beyond me.”

  Fain blows out a deep breath and shakes his head.

  I turn back to Fain. “Vale and his sister think that because I’m poor, I can’t appreciate fine things. That I’m illiterate.” I pause, looking them both over boldly. “I can see that things won’t be that different here in some ways. My family and I are still poor. Still viewed as lower class. But that’s fine. No one is trying to kill us, and I can make a better life for us. I’m an apothecary. A good one. We’ll find our way among the lower classes.” My eyes flick toward Vale, whose storming gaze is hot on mine, and I hold his gaze with searing defiance before returning to Fain. “I won’t ask you to suffer my presence any longer than is necessary, Mage Quillen. I’ve polluted your dwelling long enough.”

  I rise and ignore the hand Fain holds out to me, even though the room spins. I close my eyes for a brief second to steady myself, then make my way toward the exit.

  I pause, tent flap in hand, and turn back to them. “And just so you both know, I’ve read Aughnot and Ellerson and studied a fair bit of the history of the Realm. And I can read simple Alfsigr. All self-taught.”

  Fain stares at me in rapt amazement. His eyes flick toward Vale. “I told you, you should fast to her,” he murmurs.

  I blow out a contemptuous breath and eye Vale with disgust. “You must be joking,” I tell Fain. “Vale can’t even manage advanced mathematics. I’d never fast to him. He’s far too ignorant.”

  I turn on unsteady legs, push the tent flap open and leave.

  Chapter 14: Level Five Mage

  The air is damp and cool outside the tent, a gauzy fog veiling the base. Fain’s tent is perched high on an outcropping of rock, and I follow the sole meandering path sharply downhill, my body stiff as I scuff along the wet dirt. My thoughts are turbulent, but I have one goal in mind—to find my family.

  Soon the shadowy forms of black Gardnerian military tents emerge from the fog. The sounds of early morning conversations echo in the air as cook fires are stoked, and small knots of soldiers mill about, some at ease, some on duty and purposeful in their movements.

  Two young soldiers are sitting on a large rock that hugs my path, their conversation low and congenial.

  One of the young men turns, catching sight of me as I near. He shoots me a dazzling smile. He’s breezily handsome, his cloak finely made, three silver lines hemming its edge.

  A Level Three Mage.

  I stop in front of them. “Please,” I say imploringly. “I need to find my family.”

  “Of course,” the Mage says, sliding down off the rock. “We can help you. I’m sure they’re more than fine. They’re being very well cared for, all the refugees.” He looks me over closely and glances in the direction of Fain’s tent. “You must be Mage Tessla Harrow. I’m Nils Arden.” He gestures toward his companion with his chin. “And this is Myles Richard. We’ve heard tales of your creative shielding, and what I think must be a stunning level of bravery.”

  He holds out his hand to me. He’s beautiful, Nils, his vivid green eyes lit with intelligence and curiosity, and my heart picks up speed as I give him my hand. He lifts it to his lips and plants a gentle kiss on the back of it.

  I gulp.He’s got fire in his affinity lines. Not like Vale, but a steady line of it, simmering in flares, artfully woven. The way he has his fire magic so firmly tamped down feels dangerous, like an unsettling mystery. This secret knowledge sends a delicious shiver through me—it’s so at odds with his open, unguarded expression.

  I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I’m still wearing Fain’s rumpled military tunic over my long skirt, and that my hair must be a tangled mess.

  “You’re even more lovely than they said,” Nils tells me. I blush and look down, my eyes wandering to his hands. They’re unmarked.

  He’s unfasted.

  He gives me a brief, knowing glance before he releases my hand, his eyes liquid with warmth, as if we’ve shared a private joke. Like he knows some delicious, decadent secret about me.

  His companion, Myles, is not nearly as handsome. His eyes are too closely set, his nose large and long. He’s also reed-skinny and hunched awkwardly down, as if he’s slightly put off by his own height. But his expression is open and well meaning, and there’s kindness in his eyes. He lurches forward, as if overcome, and takes both my hands in his.

  Earth magic. Not a lot, but what little there is runs strong and deep.

  My eyes flit to the two silver lines that hem his cheaply made cloak.

  “Thank you,” Myles says with deep feeling. “Thank you for what you did. You saved my family. They were there, in the barn. I was stationed on the southern border when the Keltic and Urisk armies advanced. They moved more quickly than we anticipated. When my family was locked in that barn...you bought them those few seconds. If you hadn’t...” His eyes are overflowing with gratitude, filling with tears. “Just...thank you, Miss Harrow.”

  My eyes flit to Nils, who’s smirking at him good-naturedly.

  “Speaking like a Kelt again, Myles?” Nils teases.

  Myles winces and drops my hands, spots of
red lighting both his pale cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I mean Mage Harrow.” He shakes his head in self-censure. “I... I grew up in a border town. Along the river.” He shrugs. “Bad habits of speech. And quite a bit else. Too many Keltic ways...” He trails off.

  A Lower River Gardnerian, like me.

  Nils hangs his arm around Myles’s shoulders and grins at me. “Myles here is just overcome, Mage Harrow. It’s not every day he holds the hand of such a beautiful woman.”

  The skin on my back prickles with a sweeping heat, and I notice Nils and Myles looking past me. Their eyes go wide, and they immediately straighten to military attention, stiff as posts. They slam their fists with a thump over the Erthia orbs on their chests in a formal salute.

  I turn. There’s a Mage coming through mist, his cloak flapping behind him.

  Vale.

  His scorching eyes are the first thing to cut through fog. He shoots Nils a brief, deadly, piercing glare as he stalks swiftly past, pointedly ignoring Myles and me.

  I cross my arms protectively in front of myself, and my eyes narrow to angry slits. I can sense Vale’s heat trailing behind him in a furious flare. He’s all askew—his hair mussed into uneven spikes, his clothing wrinkled, his affinity lines turbulent as a wild storm.

  His residual trail of angry fire lashes out at me in whipping tendrils, gradually losing force as both Vale and his fire are swallowed up by the steamy fog.

  “Where’s he going, do you think?” I ask.

  “Probably to Morning Report,” Nils says, his posture relaxing.

  “That’s Vale Gardner,” Myles puts in helpfully, and with more than a little awe. “The son of the Black Witch herself.”

  “I know,” I tell them distractedly, staring off into the fog where Vale disappeared.

  Myles looks down the path, his expression tightening. “He’s the strongest one of all the Level Fives. He’s got her fire. That’s what they say, Miss.”

  Nils raises his brow at Myles.

  Myles winces. “I mean, Mage Harrow, Miss.”

  Nils laughs and pats Myles on the back. “You, my friend, are a hopeless case.”

  Myles shoots Nils a rueful smile. “No one forces you to mingle with the lower class.”

  Nils expression turns serious. “No one here is lower class,” he says, his tone emphatic. “We’re all Gardnerians.”

  A tingle of warmth courses through me.

  “It’s hard to get used to,” I reassure Myles, heartened by Nils’s startling, broad-minded acceptance. “I’m Lower River, too.” I look to Nils. “Mage was a slur there. Always an insult. The Kelts would even use it against each other.”

  “Well, it’s no longer an insult,” Nils says, his hidden fire breaking through heatedly. “And we’ll cure them of their penchant for using it as such.”

  I find myself marveling over how different Nils is from Vale. There’s no sense of elitism, no contempt in his eyes. It’s deeply refreshing.

  A vision from a storybook cuts through the fog before us, running toward me. I realize it’s Rosebeth, and relief washes over me like cool water.

  She’s dressed like a Gardnerian princess. No more ill-fitting black wool—her dark silken tunic fits like a glove over her lovely figure, shimmering even in this dim light, her skirts swishing. Blue Ironflowers are delicately embroidered along the collar and edging of her tunic. Her long black hair is beautifully styled, with small looping braids decorating her wavy black locks.

  “Tessie!” she tearfully cries, falling into my arms, her fine silks slick against my palms.Her magic is as weak as ever—a small trickle of water, so faint I can barely read it.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” I say, embracing her. “Have you seen my family? I need to find out where they are.”

  “They’re fine and safe,” she breathlessly assures me. “I’ll take you to them. Oh, Tessie, I thought you were dead!”

  She hugs me again, and tears sting my eyes. I’m so glad to be safe and in the company of friends. I look to Nils and see him beaming at us, respect lighting his eyes.

  Not everyone here is like Vale Gardner, I realize with immeasurable relief, and no small amount of spite.

  Then I look to Myles and am momentarily caught off guard by his expression. It’s like a thousand stars have burst into view before his eyes, and his mouth hangs open as he gazes at Rosebeth.

  I turn back to my friend, searching for what’s inspired Myles’s unbridled awe.

  Rosebeth is running her silk-covered forearm artlessly across her eyes to wipe away her tears, giving a loud sniff that’s almost a full-blown snort. But this does nothing to diminish Myles’s mesmerized stupor.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says, looking toward the young soldiers as if noticing them for the first time. “Where are my manners?”

  Her eyes lock on to Myles, instantly as riveted by him as he is by her—as if he’s not some plain Lower River lad, but a prince stepping through the mist of her most cherished dream.

  Incredulous, I glance up to find Nils eyeing them, then me with dancing amusement, clearly struggling not to burst into outright laughter.

  And in spite of everything—my family’s homelessness, our extreme poverty, my scrape with violent death—I momentarily rally. Perhaps we have a chance for a good life among our own people in Gardneria. A future of happiness for us all.

  Nils glances at his pocket watch. “Myles, we’ve got to report.” He smiles at Rosebeth and me. “We’re free again at midday. Perhaps you lovely Mages would care to meet us at the dining tent? We could take our food together at the central fires.”

  “Oh, yes,” Rosebeth breathes, her eyes still stuck on awkward Myles. “I’d like that a great deal.” She looks to me hopefully.

  We’re all Gardnerians. Nils’s beautiful words hang bright in my mind.

  “I’d like that, too,” I tell Nils with a heartfelt smile.

  They take their leave, Rosebeth glancing prettily after them, her lashes shyly fluttering.

  “You look like an Upper River girl,” I tell her, grinning affectionately at my childhood friend. I momentarily wonder what it would feel like to wear such fine things.

  “Genna’s helping me!” she says brightly. “She’s made me her pet—that’s what she calls me, anyway. She’s ever so wonderful, Tessie.” Then Rosebeth bites worriedly at her lip, her expression darkening. “You’ve met her, Tessie. She was rather unkind to you that horrible night. She called you names, but you shouldn’t judge her for it. You confused us all so, clinging like you did to Jules Kristian.”

  Memories of that night slam through me. Genna. That horrid Upper River girl, calling me a race traitor. Encouraging that terrifying Mage to strike down poor Daisie.

  “She’s just so beautiful,” Rosebeth enthuses, shaking off the darkness, and I feel a flash of bitter, fleeting jealously that she can shed the trauma of it all so easily. “And Genna’s going to fast to one of the Level Five Mages. Everyone wants them, Tessie. They have the most power. And the most money. Most of them are quite young and quite a few unfasted.” I can barely keep up with her, she’s talking so excitedly. “They have their own houses! Mage Vale Gardner has two!”

  “Two?” I’m disgusted by such unnecessary luxury. I think about our cottage. Momma’s quilts. Poppa’s things. Wren’s toys. All my apothecary tools.

  Our cat, Patches.

  Pain twists at my insides, and my stomach tightens with grief.

  Rosebeth glances around, biting her lip again, as if searching for the right way to tell me something troubling. “Take care around Vale Gardner and Fain Quillen,” she warns me, her tone low. “I know they helped you, but...you should know that there are disturbing rumors about them.”

  I quirk my brow in question.

  “I heard,” she whispers, shielding her mouth, �
��that they might have...evil tendencies.” She shoots me a serious, scandal-fraught look. “Like, they might fancy each other. Someone actually asked Vale Gardner about it, and...” She trails off, clearly too nervous to continue.

  “What? What did they say to him?” It’s always irritated me, her tendency to be hesitant and trail off like this.

  She takes a break from chewing her lip. “It might have been in jest. It probably was. They asked him if he wants to fast to Fain Quillen. And do you know what he said?”

  I shake my head.

  “He said, ‘And what if I did?’ Can you imagine, Tessie? He only gets away with such things because he’s Carnissa Gardner’s son. He shouldn’t speak so, even if it’s in jest. It makes people think he’s engaging in...” She goes back to gnawing at her lip, rendered mute by her own sordid imaginings.

  I take in a deep breath, remembering how I overheard Fain’s mention of rumors about him and Vale. I’ve heard whispers of such forbidden relationships—and know what cruel things can happen if the couple is discovered. A couple of years ago, the cooper’s son, Flynn, and the young farrier, Nick, were beaten senseless in Doveshire’s town square as a warning. I found the story to be deeply troubling, but unfortunately not surprising. I’m clear on what mobs are capable of and that relationships like these are not tolerated by Kelts or Gardnerians—or really anyone else in the Western Realm.

  Can the rumors be true? I’m suddenly filled with worry for both Vale and Fain.

  Vale is insufferably arrogant, but he saved my life—and Jules’s. And Fain has been nothing but kind to me.

  But what of Vale’s kiss? I wonder, confused. There was so much fire in it.”You’ve got to wash yourself up, Tessie,” Rosebeth says with nervous urgency, interrupting my thoughts. “There’s not much time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Didn’t you hear? They’re fasting all of us. Tonight. We’ve today to choose partners, or they’re choosing them for us.”

  I can feel myself blanch, shock coursing through me. “No.” I shake my head emphatically. “That’s...that’s just not possible. I’m not fasting to anyone. Certainly not tonight.”