The Sage's Consort (The Scholars of Elandria Book 1)

by Craiker, Krystal

  The young apprentice stepped out of the carriage into the bright sunlight and stretched. He ached; carriages were not designed for people of his height. He turned to the north and caught his first glimpse of the Sage’s Villa. He could not stifle his gasp. “Beautiful, eh?” the driver asked.

  But beautiful did not begin to describe it. The Villa seemed to grow directly out of the mountain, a glistening white stone building surrounded by the most vibrant gardens Quinn had ever seen. Winter plants and evergreen trees lined stone walkways. The sunlight glinted off the massive structure, which sat framed by a cerulean sky as if it had always been there. Layers of emerald-toned ivy wound along parts of the white walls. Only two stories high, the Villa’s vastness made it the largest individual building Quinn had seen besides the palace in Teleah. Both floors boasted large open archways and windows. Through the largest arched doorway, flanked by elaborate marble columns which resembled trees, Quinn could see a verdant courtyard with a stone fountain.

  The entire perimeter of the Villa consisted of rich, vibrant gardens with multiple species of trees, fern, and flowers. A grey stone aqueduct ran toward the west side of the building; Quinn presumed this fed water into the baths and kitchens. To the east, the gardens sloped downward; he could hear a rushing river just out of sight. On the southeastern corner of the Villa, an open-air veranda boasted a massive wooden dining table. An open walkway with ceilings made of wood and vines led from the veranda to the edge of the hill. The air was perfumed with flowers and herbs and a rich smell of soil.

  A plump woman in a loose, floral dress approached him from the main entryway, followed by two young men. She wore an apron stained with soot and soil. Her black hair was streaked with grey, and lines framed her blue eyes. She reminded him for just a moment of his mother.

  “Quinn.” She smiled warmly and took his hand in hers. “Welcome home. I’m Madge, the head of house. Come, I will take you to the library to meet the Sage. These two”—she gestured at the young men behind her—“will take your belongings to your room.” Quinn followed her through the garden, politely answering her questions about his journey while trying to take in every aspect of this experience.

  Through the main archway, the villa opened into a vast, open corridor that overlooked the green courtyard. The heat of a massive outdoor fireplace warmed the inside of the villa. Opposite the courtyard, the corridor was lined with doors leading to various rooms; he tried to pay attention to everything Madge pointed out.

  Madge pushed open a heavy wooden door in the northwest corner of the Villa, revealing the Sage’s library. He gasped; he could hardly believe a collection this large existed outside of the Academy. The library was two stories, lined wall to wall with books. A large leather sofa and armchair rested in the middle of the floor. He hoped he would have access to all these books during his apprenticeship.

  “Have a seat.” Madge pointed at the sofa. “She’ll be here in a moment. I’ll fetch you in a bit to take you to your room.” She left Quinn alone. His wonder and awe subsided into a choking feeling of anxiousness. In any moment, he would meet the most powerful, intelligent woman to ever live. And somehow, he still found it impossible to believe, he would be her apprentice.

  He perched on the edge of the couch, his leg shaking with nerves. Each tick of the clock seemed to take an eternity. He waited for less than five minutes, but he might as well have waited a year. Thoughts of insecurity and doubt crept into his mind. I don’t deserve to be here, he told himself. And she’ll know it the second I speak.

  The door to the library opened, and Quinn stood to greet the Sage. When he saw her, his breath left him. He struggled to keep his mouth from dropping. At least some of the rumors were true.

  The Sage of Elandria was not tall, but her presence was simultaneously unassuming and overwhelming. Her thick brown hair, streaked with sunlight, fell disheveled over her bare shoulders. She wore a purple velvet dress with a plunging neckline and fitted bodice that accentuated her curvy figure. Small, grey eyes seemed to gaze right into his soul as she studied him. Her smile was genuine and warm. If she were anyone else, she would be pretty. But the unostentatious power that emanated from her made her, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Quinn had ever seen. She crossed the room to greet him.

  “My lady Sage,” Quinn bowed his head and brought his right hand to his brow, the appropriate greeting for those in positions of power.

  She laughed; it was a symphony. “Please, call me Amarice. I hate the formalities when I’m at home.” She extended her hand to shake his.

  Quinn was taken aback. She seemed so normal. He took her hand, soft to the touch, and breathed in a slight scent of lavender. “Amarice,” he murmured. “It’s an honor.” She gave him a wide smile and pulled away, positioning herself on the armchair. She gestured for Quinn to sit on the couch. He sat; she studied him intently, biting her lip and furrowing her brow.

  After a few moments, she spoke. “Your professors speak highly of you; they have written to me about you since your first year.” Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise. “They were correct. Your Gift is immense, but suppressed. Stop wondering if you should be here.”

  Apparently, she had indeed read his soul with her intense gaze. He dropped his eyes to his lap, trying to process this information. What on earth could his professors have had to say about him to the Sage for the last four years? If his Gift was so strong, why could he not control it? How could she know they were right—could she sense the Gift in others just from meeting them?

  “Quinn.” He looked up; his name sounded like music on her lips. He pushed down that emotion and tried to focus. “Your very presence emanates wild, unharnessed magic that has been stoppered. You’re like a…a…steaming kettle that is intent on exploding boiling water all over the kitchen, but for some reason the lid won’t come off.” She cocked her head. “I’m sorry. I’m terrible at poetic analogies.” She giggled like a schoolgirl, which should have been out-of-character for the Sage of Elandria, but somehow was not. Quinn’s thoughts swirled, an inappropriate attraction mingled with confusion and shock at this assessment of his abilities. “Now, tell me what you want to learn. What is it you want to do with your life?”

  Quinn forced himself to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, he did not know what he wanted to do with his life. He always assumed his lack of earth magic would have him teaching in some distant village. For the first time in his life, he let himself imagine all his options. Something about Amarice made nothing in the world seem impossible. “If—if I could do absolutely anything…” He paused and looked at exquisite face. She smiled gently, coaxing him to continue. “I think I would enjoy a career as a minister or a diplomat.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m definitely not the right person to teach you that.” Her voice was deadpan; Quinn stared at her, confused. One of her main roles included advising the royal family and the parliament. Unable to hold the joke, a grin illuminated her visage. Quinn laughed nervously; tales of power and beauty had failed to mention her sarcasm and sense of humor. She spoke again. “Very well. Professor Quickthorn suggested you would make an excellent diplomat. But first we must figure out how to harness that power in you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a, ahem, meeting to get back to. I’ll have Madge show you to your quarters. Dinner is at six; we will speak more then.” Amarice rose, and Quinn stood, too, out of respect. She shook his hand once more and turned to leave the library. “Oh, and every apprentice wants to know—yes, you have full access to the library.”

  Quinn watched the Sage leave, focusing far too much on the swaying of her hips. She was incredible in every way he had not expected. In his mind, Quinn had built her up to be the stuff of legends. He had not anticipated her to be so human. Still, she astounded him.

  Madge returned shortly and escorted Quinn to his room off the west corridor. The room was private; Quinn had not had his own room since he was eight years old, when his younger brother was born. He went from sharing the bedroom in his small three-r
oom farmhouse to sharing the dormitory at the Academy with Rafe. He smiled; he would enjoy the alone time. His window overlooked the west garden and the pale green mountains dotted with golds and reds in the distance; he would have an amazing view of the sunset.

  His trunk had already been placed in his room. He began to unpack his belongings, neatly folding his clothes in the wardrobe and placing his books on the shelf above the small desk. He placed Rafe’s journal on his nightstand. He would have to write his first impressions later. For now, he decided to rest before exploring the grounds. He stretched out on the single bed. He closed his eyes and pictured the Sage. He thought of her face and that purple dress as he fell into dreams.

  ***

  Amarice mused on her first impressions of her new apprentice. He was handsome, with his neatly parted brown hair and boyish face. He emanated a strong power, stifled by shyness and a lack of confidence. What made him so guarded? She wondered. But there was something else about him that she simply could not place. She wrote it off as simple attraction and climbed the stairs to the room where her latest lover lay waiting.

  Chapter Six

  Quinn entered the veranda a few minutes before six o’clock. The massive oak table seated around twenty people; the head of house and workers sat mingled with Scholars. A spread of fine winter foods lay in wait. Quinn’s mouth watered at the smell of roast lamb and the heaping pile of cheesy squash that sat next to it. Madge pointed him to the seat just to the left of the head of the table. He took a seat and waited as few more people drifted into dinner.

  A pretty redhead named Daisy sat diagonally across from him. She was an apothecary Scholar who made her full-time residence at the Villa because of the selections of exotic plants Amarice housed in her gardens. She sold her creations to traveling merchants rather than keeping her own shop. She had met Amarice two years ago, and they became fast friends. Quinn chatted with her, reserved but polite, uncomfortable with the flirtatious looks she gave him.

  The Sage entered the veranda. She had changed into a royal blue, silk dress and jewel-encrusted silver belt. Her Scholar’s pendant drew Quinn’s eyes to her breasts. She had braided her hair, accentuating her perfect facial features and deep grey eyes.

  Quinn stood out of respect for her position. The moment quickly became awkward. He noticed no one else stood; in fact, no one even seemed to care that the most powerful woman in Elandria had entered the room as they dipped food onto their plates. He sat and felt his face flush with embarrassment. Amarice flashed him a reassuring smile.

  Amarice sat at the head of the table next to Quinn. He breathed in the floral scent of lavender again. She poured herself a glass of wine and casually expressed her excitement at the bowl of mashed potatoes. “I’ve been waiting for more potatoes. I had to do magic to protect them from the cold because I could not wait until spring to plant more,” she explained to Quinn as she served herself two large heaps of the creamy dish. “Pass the lamb?”

  He passed her the platter of meat. “The food is delicious,” he said. He saw Madge beam at him from halfway down the table. He helped himself to more squash. Food at the Academy was often stale and bland. He enjoyed the herbaceous flavor of the tender lamb, the earthiness of the fresh winter vegetables. He hoped every meal would be this satisfying.

  “Madge is the best cook in Elandria, I truly believe,” Amarice confirmed. “I always worry she will leave me and start a famous restaurant in the capital.” Madge laughed. “So, I just keep paying her well. The Villa couldn’t run without her. I’m quite lucky.” Amarice spent much of dinner introducing the various residents. She made no distinction between the Scholars and the Villa staff. “Everyone is home for the Feast of Fire,” she told Quinn. “It’s rare that we are all together without guests. It’s just the family tonight.”

  It did feel like a normal family dinner. In fact, it felt much more like a family than the meals Quinn used to share with his parents and brother. People chatted about their work, about letters they received from family and friends, about the latest news from the capital. Quinn talked to the man to his left; a blond Scholar named Matthew who had been a fourth-year student in Amarice’s first-year. He worked as an historian, but he preferred the peace and natural beauty of the Sage’s Villa to the drafty Academy offices and busy city.

  “Where are you from?” Amarice inquired of Quinn.

  He swallowed a bite of Madge’s sourdough rolls. “Corthy, in the northern farmlands. About a day’s ride from Chyry Vale.” Chyry Vale was the only city Quinn had seen before he left his home. After seeing Teleah, he doubted it qualified as a city.

  The Sage nodded. “I’ve visited Chyry Vale. I stay a few days and meet with the northern council on my journeys to the Great Northern Forest. You were near the Lazori border. Did you ever visit Lazoria?”

  Quinn shook his head. “No, we rarely left the village. My father owns a farm; there was not much time to get away. The furthest I ever ventured before coming to Teleah was Chyry Vale, and we only went there a handful of times.” Quinn had often dreamed of running away to explore Lazoria or the Great Northern Forest. He would study maps of places even further away, but he did not even allow himself to dream of visiting some of those destinations. He knew it would be impossible.

  Amarice sensed a feeling of disdain when Quinn mentioned his village. She understood. “I am from Davia, on the peninsula. I never ventured further than a two-day ride from my home before I went to the Academy.”

  Quinn met her eyes, which were filled with empathy. He had never given much thought to who this woman was before she became the Sage. But in that instance, he saw her as Amarice, a powerful Scholar who had, like him, come from a small village where she likely had her own share of troubles. He wanted to know everything about her. For the first time since receiving the letter from his professor, he felt he might, in fact, be in the right place. He smiled. “I would love to visit the sea,” was all he could say.

  Dinner progressed with more conversations. When the plates were empty and no one reached for seconds, Madge and some others began to gather the dishes. Quinn noticed even a couple of the Scholars helped in cleaning up the table. Amarice stacked a few plates and corked the bottle of wine before following the rest of the residents out of the veranda. She gestured to Quinn to follow her. “We often retire to the salon after dinner. We have parlor games and a piano, or sometimes we will just chat.”

  The salon on the eastern side of the Villa opened directly into the courtyard. A large fireplace glowed next to the windows on the back wall. The walls were lined with brightly-colored tapestries and shelves of various artifacts from all over the world. There were tables for parlor games and plush sofas for lounging. A large black piano stood in the corner. A door on the northern wall opened into the Sage’s study.

  Amarice claimed a chaise lounge for herself, stretching out her legs. Quinn found it hard to believe a woman of such immense power could be so unassuming. She engaged one of the staff members, a gamekeeper, in conversation, asking about his mother’s health. She knew the lives of every person here, and she genuinely cared. Her mind was far from politics and earth magic. Perhaps that was her real magic: she treated everyone as her equal.

  Quinn relaxed on a couch nearby, positioning himself with a clear view of her. He could not deny his attraction to her, although he knew it was inappropriate as her apprentice. But, he figured, just looking would not hurt. He just had to keep himself from staring. Amarice asked him news of the Academy, looking for the latest gossip. She laughed her symphonic laugh at Quinn’s stories of professors and shared a few of her own. Her impression of Professor Viridion made Quinn laugh until his gut hurt. Quinn had always been shy and never skilled at small talk, but talking to Amarice was comfortable. He could not remember the last time he felt so at ease.

  After several hours, the company had grown smaller. Amarice yawned and stood. She wished Quinn and the remaining people a good night and disappeared through the door to her study. Quinn enjoyed wa
tching her leave. Daisy turned her attention to Quinn and all his normal reservations and anxiety returned. He suddenly wondered if Amarice had used her magic to relax the environment. He knew powerful Scholars could often manipulate the mood of a room, but there was usually an indescribably magical buzz in the air. Quinn had heard nothing. Or maybe she just had a calming presence.

  He excused himself from Daisy’s company, citing exhaustion from the travel. And he was tired. He peered into the baths, and upon discovering them empty, relaxed in the warm waters perfumed with rose. No lavender, he noticed. He thought of Amarice’s scent and replayed her laugh in his mind. She truly was an incredible woman.

  ***

  In the middle of the night, Quinn woke, drenched in sweat. He sat upright, touching his legs and arms to make sure he was still whole. He searched the dark room for the time: just after three o’clock in the morning. His bedclothes felt confining, and he untangled himself and rose from the bed.

  He replayed the dream in his mind. He had dreamed of fire; no, he had dreamed he was on fire. He could feel the burning and hear the screams of others. He saw only flame, and he swore he had smelled burning wood. In fact, he had the feeling in his dream he had been a tree. But trees weren’t sentient, and Quinn was very much unburned. He shook himself and opened the door to his bedroom. He needed fresh air.

  Quinn looked across the courtyard, surprised to find someone else already there. Illuminated by the moonlight, a woman in a thin white gown knelt on the grass beside the fountain. Her hands were in the water. Though he had met her only twelve hours prior, he recognized her instantly.