Desmond went first, picking up the ring and Mariah's long fingered hand. He slipped it over her knuckle, whispering the words they had been taught, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.”
Nathaniel placed the ring in Mariah's hand next. She had also always taken comfort in Desmond's hands, his strong finger gripping hers.
“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you,” she said, as she put his ring on. It glinted in the sunlight coming through the windows, and Desmond vowed that he was never going to take it off.
“Now that Mariah and Desmond have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder.” The priest crossed himself, which made Desmond wonder whether he was going to perform some magic as well. But instead, he just bowed his head.
“Let us stand and pray together the words our Savior taught us,” the priest said. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come, they will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.”
It interested Desmond how close it sounded to what the swore to Nature, to magic.
“Amen,” he echoed, as he considered the pledges they had taken.
“God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, bless, preserve and keep you. The Lord mercifully with his flavor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace. That you may faithfully live together in this life, and in the age to come have life everlasting. Amen. The peace of the Lord be with you always,"
“And also with you,” Mariah said.
“Mariah and Desmond, having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife. Desmond, you may kiss the bride.”
He hadn't actually expected that part and he blushed. He had never kissed Mariah in public, and certainly not in front of all his Tiros. But then, if anyone knew that they were actually kissing in private, it was their Tiros.
He leaned in, planting a kiss on her lips with love. She kissed him back in such a way that his knees went weak.
“Forever,” Mariah said and he smiled. Witches believed that their souls remained together as they vanished in Nature, absorbed and reused. He would never leave her side, even if they were just two dust specks floating in the universe. In the whole galaxy, he had found his soul match – the one that was shaped by Nature to be beside him.
“Forever,” he promised her.
Chapter 24
“Watch the tournament with you?” Sienna replied in surprise to Nathaniel's request. “Why?”
“My new Tiro is competing,” Nathaniel said. “And I thought it would be good closure for both of us.”
“Your new Tiro?” she said. It had only been a week since Desmond and Mariah's pledge ceremony, and they had already moved out. As soon as she was strong enough to travel to Jeffro, she and Devon would be gone, as well. “Who is it? Already?”
“I don't know,” Nathaniel said. “The Jurors are being cryptic, per usual. They want to see if I make the connection on my own.”
“Is that because they feel guilty about randomly assigning you a Tiro?” she said. “Because they shouldn't do that.”
“I didn't think they would do it so soon,” Nathaniel admitted. “Nor did I really have any interest in them doing so. But I suppose…it's only right, given how none of us are going to live forever. They don't like inactive Maestros. You don't have to come if you aren't comfortable.”
“No,” she said, after a moment. “I'd like to come, at least to watch. I always wanted to compete in more tournaments than I did.”
He gave her a soft look. “I'm sorry we didn't find a way,” he said. “I wish we could have.”
“It's all right,” she assured him. “I learned early on that I couldn't experience everything. It's why I read so many books about warrior quests, why I always asked you. That was the way I experienced things, and I was all right with it.”
“I imagine you'll get quite a few fans,” he said. “The young ones are taught about you, the Tiro with determination.”
“But I'm not a witch,” she said, and he smiled.
“Of course, you are,” he said. “And you are as special now as you were that first day.”
“You're emotional today,” she teased as she took his arm. She was still razor thin, cheek bones bare of any plumpness, and eyes hollow. He would wonder for the rest of his life if blocking her magic was the best choice. But for now, he accepted he had to look forward to the future.
The tournament hall was crowded, with young potentials running to and fro. Maestros without trainees were sitting off to the side in the observation stands, looking at each move critically Those who were just spectators were on the other side, noticeably more at ease. Sienna looked around at the scene with a smile.
“Was that you and Desmond, once upon a time? In the observation stands?”
“No,” Nathaniel answered, in surprise “We were in the spectator stands when we found you. I believe I even sat on the floor, it was so crowded. We weren't looking, Sienna, but you got our attention anyways.”
“I wasn't looking, either,” she replied. “And I am grateful for the years I got.”
He led her over to the observation stands, trying to be blind to the many stares that they got. Their story was so usual, so outlandish and so odd, that the other Maestros couldn't help but stare. They didn't allow their Tiros to whisper, but Nathaniel felt eyes burn into his neck as he settled down beside her.
The tournament started with its usual razzle and dazzle showcase, usually by the top Tiro potentials who would be picked right away. It was stunning, with rainbow colors of magic, back flips and vanishing acts.
In the center of it, there was a girl who caught Nathaniel's gaze. Displaying levitation, that was uncommon in Tiros that young, she was literally head and shoulders above the rest. She was curvy, short, the opposite of Sienna's outward appearance, but it didn't seem to stop her. Her eyes were focused on her task, and he heard whispers as she displayed her skill.
It wasn't until the combat that Nathaniel knew that was his new Tiro. She entered the arena, and in less than ten seconds, had slammed her opponent to the floor, her face focused on his, and her magic effortless. She never displayed a hint of emotion, never moved so much as an eyebrow. Her magic was clear, flawless and her body was rigid as she flooded through it.
The next few opponents to face her were the same – put down within five seconds. There was almost an anger within her, a vengeance that was not acceptable in the magical world.
The crowd roared its approval and shock as she put down yet another. Her eyes flashed up, only for a moment, before she looked to the ground
“Such skill,” came the whispers.
“Such anger,” came another. “What happened to her?”
“Can she be tamed?”
“It's that one,” Sienna said, softly, as Nathaniel rose to applaud. “Isn't it?”
“Yes.” Nathaniel sat beside her as they continued to watch the display. “I think so.”
“Who is she?” Sienna's face was emotionless as she watched.
Nathaniel reached for his program, unable to take his eyes off a warrior potential that had scared even him.
“Prada Reigns,” he said, looking at the program. “Creator.”
“What?” Sienna leaned over, reading from the printed manual. “Princess of Powys…She's royalty. Powys doesn't exist?”
“It doesn't exist anymore,” Nathaniel said. “Her planet is dust now…Oh, my. I don't kno
w if I can do this.”
Under Prada's picture, there was a description of her abilities and vices. Her magical levels were off the charts, but it appeared that was all. In classes, Prada displayed no emotion. She didn't speak. She didn't react. She destroyed.
“If they think you are capable…”
“Once,” Nathaniel said. “I would have been thrilled for a Tiro like that. But not now, not when you've made me more than a warrior. I hope it's not her.”
“Of course, it's her,” Sienna said, as the whispers went around them about the girl. “She needs you the most.”
Nathaniel's heart sank as he stared at the picture.
“I thought the Jurors would understand that I have become more than a warrior. That I need to be diverse to understand magic better.”
“But who else could take her, Nathaniel?” Sienna asked. “You are the only one who could deal with it and make her something great.”
He met her eyes. “I appreciate your praise, little one. But do not think I am so eager to replace you.”
“We accepted this, Nathaniel,” she said, looking away. “Didn't we?”
He let out a long sigh. “We did,” he said, standing up. “Come, we've seen enough.”
She still followed him like she was a Tiro at her Maestro's beck and call. She stayed two steps behind, just in arms-length, and moved in unison, used to the way he weaved in and out of crowds. And it was with Sienna at his side, later that day, when the Jurors asked him to head to a meeting room.
“I should go,” Sienna said, but his hand closed over his wrist.
“No,” he said. “You should stay and meet her. We will know for certain then.”
“I don't think knowing is what matters, Nathaniel, if they have decided,” she replied, but followed him anyways
It was Prada, just as they predicted. Standing alone in the middle of the meeting room, Nathaniel could feel the power in her from down the hallway.
Her eyes were hardened, her fist clenched. Did she even want to be trained, he wondered? Did she have any interest in him working with her?
“Hello,” he said, softly, staying at the doorway. He had stopped so quickly that Sienna nearly ran straight into him. Prada's eyes flickered right to her and she took a step back. “My name is Nathaniel and the Jurors have decided that…” he took a deep breath.
How could he say this? How could he do this? It wasn't a temporary commitment, taking a Tiro. This was ten years of his life, standing right here.
But he had to serve Nature, he knew that. He had always been committed to doing so, even when his heart lay with Eliza. He wanted to serve, to save lives, and he had been blessed with magic. This was his birthright, his duty.
“That you are going to be my Tiro,” he said, at last. “Do you want to be trained?”
Her hardened eyes went to Sienna, who took a step to Nathaniel's side.
“Sienna was my Tiro,” Nathaniel explained. “But now she's grown up and ready for adventures on her own.”
Prada said nothing, glaring at her. Sienna didn't need magic to figure out what the problem was.
“I should go,” she said. “She's threatened by me, Nathaniel. And I would have felt the same, all those years ago.”
“No…” Nathaniel replied, but she was already leaving. It was the turning point in his life, in his path. The moment one Tiro walked away and another one stepped up to join him.
He realized that, despite being so different in so many ways, they were finally normal. Every Maestro and Tiro pair had gone through this moment, and they had lived to see the other side. At long last, they were walking the same path as everyone else.
“I'll see you around,” Sienna said, and headed down the hallway.
Nathaniel turned back to Prada, who had watched her go. Her dark eyes were still trained on anything but Nathaniel, and her hands were now behind her back. She drew one hand out and signed something. Nathaniel's eyes widened.
What a time for Sienna to leave, he thought. She could understand sign language.
He grabbed a notepad from the side table, and handed it to Prada, who scribbled something quickly.
We are not bonded. This is not natural.
“Oh,” he said, looking at the words. “No. But…the Jurors do know best.”
You are not bonded with her, either.
“No,” he replied. “Not anymore. I was, but she was very sick and we had to…stop. I wasn't bonded with her at the start, either. It grew, over time. As I imagine it will for you and I. The Jurors have chosen us to train together.”
Prada said nothing to that, and Nathaniel smiled, remembering his first moments with Sienna.
It had been just as difficult in the start, but now he wouldn't have traded it for anything. If there was a chance of making just as bright of future here and now, he would at least try.
Besides, Sienna was right. There was no one else, now that Desmond was out of the picture, who could likely handle to issues this poor Tiro had. He knew he could do it and he could build her to be a great witch.
“We're going to have so many adventures,” he said, holding out his hand. “And one day, this will be you standing here, taking a Tiro of your own and vowing to keep them safe.”
Prada's eyes flickered at that, and she looked down at his out stretched hand. After a long moment, she placed her hand in his for a brief moment, before pulling back.
Her power was so strong it jolted him, and yet she was more afraid of him than anything else.
“Why don't we go to the cafeteria?” he asked. “Get some food?”
That earned him a nod, and he inwardly gave himself a thumbs up. Food was always the solution to any Tiro's heart.
He knew that it wouldn't be easy. There would be many struggles down the new road they walked, and many days when he'd wonder if he was doing the right thing. But he wanted to serve, and he wanted to fight, and this new chapter would be just what he needed.
At least, until Eliza said the words and then he would go willingly to her. But she wouldn't, not for years, and he knew that. He loved Eliza because she understood that he was needed where he was, and she would never put that in jeopardy He would do his duty and she would do hers, and they would be happy apart until the day they could be happy together
Until that day, he had a Tiro to train.
Chapter 25
Desmond knew that the dungeons under the school were dark, but he didn't realize they were damp and cold ,as well. He had expected the Jurors to treat their prisoners with respect and with dignity, but he was surprised to learn that wasn't exactly the case.
It broke his heart to see Reynolds looking pale and thing, sitting on the cold floor of his cell.
“Desmond,” Reynolds said, with a smirk. He was defiant, even now. “Have you come to gloat? Your happiness is sickening.”
“I have not,” Desmond said. “Although I have come to inform you of some news.”
“What? Has the Jurors elevated your defiant ass once again? You always did manage to get away with murder.”
“I am leaving the Order,” Desmond answered, and Reynolds fell silent. “I have left my Tiro, and I am leaving magic behind. Mariah and I pledged ourselves to each other.”
“What?” Reynolds couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you mad?”
Desmond had not expected that reaction.
“No? Maybe?”
“You can't just… arr,” Reynolds replied. “You just threw away your whole life.”
“No,” Desmond said. “I walked a path I thought was right for me, until I realized it was right no longer. You feel my happiness because I am now on the right path. There are other ways to be happy, Reynolds, besides magic. Besides darkness or light, the whisk of our hands. And I wanted you to know that.”
Reynolds fell silent, not expecting this kind of lecture.
“If there is a glimmer of hope in all of this, Reynolds, I hope that you find it.”
“Desmond, I walked away from you a
nd from the Order. I used Acheronian magic, I killed hundreds, if not thousands. I was your first Tiro and I screwed everything up for you. And now you come and tell me about hope?”
“I do,” Desmond replied. “And when the Jurors lay down your verdict for the crimes you have committed, I will be there, beside you, supporting you as I should have done.”
Reynolds looked at Desmond in disbelief. His mouth gaped open several times before he spoke.
“And what of the girl?”
Desmond tried to smile.
“Sienna has found her own path, as well, outside of magic. If you have diabolical plans, you should know that the drugs have wiped magic from her system. She knows death awaits her if she comes off of them. She is useless to your cause now.”
“And your brave Nathaniel? Has he surged forward?”
“Nathaniel has stayed with the Order,” Desmond said. “So you may hear his name from time to time. That is the path he believes is right for him, and I'm not going to stop him.”
“Of course, he did.” Reynolds shook his head. “So much for different paths”
“We have each found our own,” Desmond answered. “And I know that you will as well.”
“Unless they execute me.”
“They won't,” Desmond assured him. “You are too powerful, too blessed by magic to lose such a force to the world. Try to find a way without it, a way to be happy, and you will find yourself free.”
“Not from prison bars,” Reynolds replied.
“No, maybe not,” Desmond answered. “But your mind will be at peace.”
The two stood in silence for a long moment, and then Reynolds spoke, softly, “You weren't a bad Maestro, Desmond.”
Desmond was surprised by this.
“I—”
“You weren't. It was nothing that you did or said. You were a good Maestro, and it was I that strayed. Don't blame yourself for it. I hope you do find happiness with Mariah.”
Desmond decided to accept this, bowing his head.
“Thank you,” he said. “I will leave you now.”
“Could you…Could you stay?” Reynolds asked, sounding so much like the boy Desmond had trained. “Not for long, I mean…but just a while?”
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