“Fine.” I swallowed hard, then firmed my chin and shoulders, forcing my body not to tremble. As angry as I was, the man standing in front of me was the Chief Mage for a reason, and I did not want to fuck with him if I hoped to make it out of this place alive.
“Good.” The anger abruptly disappeared as his face returned to stone. “I’m going ask you a series of questions. My magic will tell me if you are lying, so I suggest you be truthful.”
I resisted the urge to scoff, unsure whether I believed that. But in the interest of staying alive, I decided to answer his questions truthfully. I could always test his claim later, when he was less likely to want to incinerate me.
“Excellent.” He turned around, reaching for something on his desk, and when he turned back I saw he had a manila file with my name on it open in his hands. “You are the daughter of Saranella Baine, correct?”
“Correct.” A pang went through my heart at the mention of my mother’s name. It had been fourteen years since she’d died, but I still missed her fiercely.
“Did she ever mention your father to you? His name, his rank, his country of origin?”
“Not once.” I swallowed against a lump in my throat. “I think she figured that if I didn’t know my father was a mage, I might not tap into my powers until I was old enough not to be subjected to testing any longer.”
“An interesting theory, but quite incorrect,” the Chief Mage said, almost conversationally. My nails dug into my palms – did he not realize how insensitive he was being? “You were eight years old when you had your first test?”
“Yes,” I murmured, my mind flying back to that day. I remembered how terrified my mother had been, how she’d sobbed and clung to me and wished aloud that she could keep me home from school that day. I’d been scared too, not so much because of the test but because my mother was crying. That was the only time I’d ever seen her shed tears. She’d been a kind and compassionate woman, but tough as nails, and the moment of weakness still shook me even as a memory. “I passed.”
“Obviously.” The Chief Mage flipped a page in my file and scanned it. I gritted my teeth. “Had you shown any signs of magical aptitude before then?”
I frowned, thinking back. “I conjured some rainbow butterflies at my third birthday party,” I recalled. “My cousins thought it was the greatest thing they’d ever seen, and my mother nearly had a heart attack. None of my aunts ever brought their kids back to our house again.” My heart ached for the hurt and bewildered child I had been. Whether I liked it or not, she still lingered as a ghost in my heart, waiting in vain for someone to accept her.
“Were they real butterflies?”
I blinked. “Huh?”
The Chief Mage frowned impatiently at me. “Were they real butterflies, or just an illusion?”
“Oh, they were real,” I insisted. “I caught one in my hand and felt its wings fluttering against my palm.” Happiness burst through the ache of that memory, and I paused, surprised that I actually had a joyful memory of magic in the recesses of my mind.
The Chief Mage’s eyebrows arched. “At only age three? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Impressive,” he muttered, scanning my file again. Warmth filled my chest at the accidental compliment, but I pushed it down. “And yet you passed the test.”
I sighed. “I don’t understand it either.”
He studied me for a long time. “Your mother died when you were ten years old, correct?”
“Correct.” It had happened so long ago, and yet at the mention of it, I still remembered the way her hand had felt in mine, so weak and clammy as she’d drawn her last breaths. She’d been taken by a rare shifter disease that destroyed the immune system – a true tragedy, as she’d barely reached a hundred years of age, only a third of a shifter’s normal lifespan.
“And you were taken in by Shiftertown Inspector Tillmore after that?”
I cleared my throat. “Not right after. My aunt Mafiela kept me until I was thirteen. That was about as long as she could stand me before throwing me out in the streets. Roanas caught me stealing bread from a vendor in the town square, and took me in, instead of prosecuting me.”
As a general rule, I tried not to think about those nights I’d spent huddling in cardboard boxes in alleys, scrounging for food wherever I could and staying out of sight as much as possible. Even though I was a child, the other shifters had considered me taboo because of my hybrid status – they all knew that I was only half-shifter, even if they didn’t know I was half-mage rather than half-human. If my aunt Mafiela had chosen to keep me, things might’ve been different, but her throwing me out on the streets was a declaration to all that I was tainted, unworthy.
The Chief Mage’s eyes flickered. “Mafiela Baine… she is the matriarch of the Jaguar Clan, correct?”
I nodded.
“Did she know that your father was a mage when she revoked your status as a clan member?”
“I’m not sure.” I clenched my jaw on the lie. Much as I hated my aunt Mafiela, the fact that she hadn’t immediately reported my shifter-mage hybrid status to the Mage’s Guild was her saving grace. I couldn’t throw her under the train, at least not for this. Iannis stared silently at me for a long moment, and I wondered if he really could tell that I was lying.
“Being a hybrid and born out of wedlock were reason enough for her to give me the boot. She felt no particular loyalty toward me once my mother died.”
“Does Shiftertown not provide any sort of assistance to the needy?”
“Most of the taxes paid by everyone in this city go into your coffers,” I snapped. “What little money Shiftertown gets to keep is used for city maintenance.” The same went for Rowanville and Maintown.
The Chief Mage frowned. “Maintenance? The Mage’s Guild is in charge of civic upkeep. That is one of the reasons why we charge taxes to begin with.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well you ought to take a closer look and see where that money is actually going, because it’s sure not being used for city improvements or welfare.”
“I believe we are going off topic now.” The Chief Mage’s frown deepened. “So Inspector Tillmore took you in. Did he know about your magic?”
I sighed. “Roanas knew everything there was to know about me.” There was no point in hiding it, since he was dead. Grief smarted at my eyes, and I cleared my throat, blinking. The man had taught me everything I needed to know, and it was his recommendation that had gotten me into the Enforcer’s Guild in the first place. “He took me in when I was thirteen years old.”
“Despite your inability to control your magic?” The Chief Mage arched a brow. “A selfless act indeed.”
“Roanas taught me how to defend myself so my magic wouldn’t have to,” I growled. “And I was always safe when I was with him. He did the best he could.”
“I suppose so,” the Chief Mage murmured. His eyes narrowed as he studied me for a long moment, before he set the file aside.
“Hold out your hands.” He stepped toward me, his own hands outstretched.
A shiver rippled down my spine as I eyed him, a sense of déjà vu filling me. This was exactly what the other mages had done when they tested me, and even though I knew there was no harm in having it done again, since everyone in Solantha probably knew I was half-mage, it still made me nervous.
“Your hands,” the Chief Mage repeated, his voice tinged with impatience.
I placed my hands in his reluctantly, watching as his long fingers curled around them. He turned my hands over until my palms rested face up, then stroked my wrists with his thumbs. Another shiver rippled through me, but this one was warm and tingly, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my nostrils. His scent filled my nose, and my cheeks heated as I became incredibly aware of how close we stood together.
If Iannis noticed my sudden discomfort, he said nothing, simply continued to stroke his thumbs across my wrists in small circles. The warm tingles gradually grew stronger as they ran up and down m
y arms, like an electric current looping between us, and as the scent of burnt sugar thickened around us I realized that current was actually magic.
His eyes opened, and a pang of disappointment went through me as he dropped my hands. “Not a single spark,” he murmured, eyeing me curiously.
“What does that mean?” Fenris, who’d been standing nearby, asked. His brow was furrowed as he studied me.
“It means that someone has put a block on her magic, likely her father.”
“My father?” I echoed. Anger bubbled up in my stomach at the implications. “Why would he do that? So I’d be helpless to defend myself?”
“On the contrary,” the Chief Mage corrected me. “He would have done this to keep you hidden, so you would pass the tests without arousing suspicion.” He sounded intrigued. “Whoever your father is, he must have been a high-level mage to have accomplished such a sophisticated spell.”
“Gee, I’m so proud,” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest.
Annoyance flickered in the Chief Mage’s eyes again, but he ignored my sarcasm as he walked around his desk. I watched, curiously, as he opened a drawer and pulled out a fountain pen. “Hold out your hand.”
Bewildered, I did so, and he placed the pen in the center of my palm. I inspected it to try and see if there was anything special about it, but there were no runes or strange markings of any kind on the surface. “What am I supposed to do with this thing?”
“Make it levitate.”
I scowled at him. “Exactly how am I supposed to do that?”
The Chief Mage shrugged. “The same way you do it every time. Reach for your magic, and direct it.”
Sighing, I closed my eyes and did as he asked, searching for that glowing light in the center of my being that appeared whenever I had a magical outburst. But as usual, there was nothing but a void, and when I opened my eyes the pen was still in my hand.
“It didn’t work.”
The Chief Mage only arched a brow, and reached for my hand as if to take the pen. But instead, he wrapped his fingers around my hand. Instantly, ice crackled up my forearm, spreading rapidly to my shoulder with no signs of stopping. Panic burst in my chest as a deep, painful cold engulfed my arm. I knew that if it reached my heart I would die.
As soon as I had that thought, the magic inside me flared to life. Heat flooded my body, and blue-green flames raced up my arms. The ice melted instantly, water sluicing down to the floor to be absorbed by the expensive carpeting.
“As I suspected.” The Chief Mage dropped my arm, a satisfied look on his face. “Your magic only works when you believe your life to be in danger.”
“I could have told you that!” I balled my hands at my sides, my heart pumping furiously. “You didn’t need to almost kill me!”
The Chief Mage’s lips thinned. “Don’t be silly, Miss Baine. I would have stopped the ice before it reached your heart. It does me no good if you die before I complete my investigation.”
“Not. Re. Assured.”
As I half-expected, the Chief Mage ignored that too, instead leaning forward to peer into my eyes. “Fenris,” he murmured, “Jaguar shifters, they typically have yellow eyes, do they not?”
“They range in color, actually, but a golden color is the norm.” Fenris shrugged. “They’re also one of the few big cat feline species that have melanin coats as well as lighter coloring, explaining why Sunaya’s coat is black when so many of the Baine jaguars are not.”
“I personally prefer the term panther,” I said coolly. It was a misnomer, but it was simpler than identifying myself as a ‘black jaguar’.
“Hmm.” The Chief Mage glanced back at me. “Your father may very well share your eye coloring, then.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you seriously going to try and identify my father, a mage who can change his appearance, by his eye coloring?”
“Of course not,” the Chief Mage said mildly. “But it’s something we should consider, nevertheless.”
“You know,” Fenris said, “if her father had claimed her at birth, which would have been the honorable thing to do, Sunaya would be a mage in good standing by now.”
Huh. That was interesting. In theory Fenris was correct – the issue of being born illegally with magic mainly applied to humans, which made sense as all mage families originally descended from normal humans. Full-blooded shifters, on the other hand, were never born with magic other than their innate ability to shift, making me an extremely rare case. I gritted my teeth as the realization swept over me that my father could have claimed me as his daughter and I would have been allowed to train as a mage, sparing me years of heartache and difficulty.
The Chief Mage arched a brow in Fenris’s direction. “Your point?”
“My point is, I don’t think it’s just to punish Sunaya for her father’s neglect, which is the only reason she can’t control her magic properly. In my opinion, he is more deserving of punishment than she is. He knew the consequences of leaving her to fend for herself, and yet did nothing aside from putting a spell on her to seal her magic away. A spell that, in the end, did not save her.”
I expected the Chief Mage to scoff at this, but he said nothing for a long moment, simply staring at me. I forced myself not to fidget, wondering what was going on behind those strange violet eyes. Was he actually considering letting me off the hook in favor of pinning responsibility on my father? If that was the case, I would have to give Fenris a good, long smooch for his suggestion.
And maybe I had enough gratitude in my heart to give the Chief Mage a pat on the head, too.
“Your father will not escape justice,” he said finally, and then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Unfortunately our time is up for now, as I have other obligations to meet. Return here at the same time tomorrow, and we will resume our study.”
“Yessir.” I sketched a mocking bow and carted myself back to my room, wondering if the Chief Mage really was going to find my father, and if he did, whether or not I would finally get to meet the bastard face to face.
Chapter Eight
I spent most of the afternoon training, burning off my frustration as best I could with the forms and exercise routines my mentor had taught me. Practice reminded me that I was still missing my crescent knives and chakrams, and I wondered where they had gone off to. I really hoped Brin and Nila hadn’t decided to keep them for themselves, or sold them off to other Enforcers. They were valuable weapons, both gifts from Roanas. The chakrams were especially valuable, because they were spelled to return to my pouch after they’d been thrown.
Perhaps I can ask Fenris to try and get my weapons back for me.
Huh. That might actually be a good idea. Even if he held on to them for me, that was better than leaving them to the Enforcer’s Guild. Heck, I might even be able to get him to convince the Chief Mage to let me wear them – the guards would think twice about messing with me then.
With that thought in mind, I left my makeshift training area and went to find Fenris. A human servant told me he was in the West Wing, so I headed in that direction, passing through the balcony that overlooked the foyer as I did so.
“What do you mean, we can’t see her!”
I froze at the sound of Noria’s strident tones, and looked over the railing to see her standing below, arguing with the mage who served as the receptionist for the palace. Her cloud of red curls bounced around her face in time to her wild gesticulations. Next to her stood Comenius, who looked slightly uncomfortable about her outburst. Both were dressed in white from head to foot – mourning colors – and my heart sank into my toes as I realized what that meant.
Roanas’s funeral.
Rage began to build inside me. Why had nobody told me he was being buried today? Even if I couldn’t have attended the funeral myself, I would have liked to pray for him, perhaps even hold a rite on my own.
“I’m sorry, but Sunaya Baine is a prisoner,” the mage sniffed haughtily. Ire bubbled up inside me as he wrinkled his long, slightly croo
ked nose. “And as such, she is not cleared for any visitors at this time.”
“That’s preposterous!” Comenius protested, his handsome features tightening into a scowl. “Even Prisoner’s Isle allows their inmates visitors, and Sunaya hasn’t even been sentenced.”
“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time here,” the mage sneered. “With her volatile behavior, it’s only a matter of time before the Chief Mage has her executed –”
The animosity building inside me finally came to a head. I vaulted over the balcony, twisting around in the air before landing in a crouch directly in front of the mage.
“What was that you were saying about my volatile behavior?” I asked, baring my fangs at the snotty old mage. His wrinkly skin turned sallow, his beady eyes widening as much as they were capable.
“Naya!” Comenius and Noria exclaimed at the same time.
The mage’s bushy grey eyebrows quivered as he scowled at me. “Just what is the meaning of this, young lady? Are you threatening me?”
The guards standing by began to close in, and I stepped in front of my friends to shield them, not wanting them to get caught up in another altercation with these brutal bastards.
“Fenris,” I called out mentally. “Could use a little help here.”
“Sir, we apologize for the intrusion,” Comenius said swiftly from behind me. I turned to see him grab Noria around the waist and begin steering her towards the door. “We’ll just be on our way now –”
“No!” Noria actually stamped her foot. “I’m not leaving!” She flung herself at me, and I staggered as she wrapped her arms around my waist like a child would do to a mother who was trying to leave them behind somewhere.
“Noria,” I muttered, trying to extricate myself from her grasp as the guards drew closer, one of them testing the draw on his short sword. I didn’t want to give the guards an excuse to work off some of their aggression on her. “You can tone it down a notch.”
“May I ask what’s going on here?”
Relief sang through my veins at the sound of Fenris’s voice, and I turned to see him standing at the top of the stairs, watching us with a bemused expression.
Burned by Magic: a New Adult Fantasy Novel (The Baine Chronicles Book 1) Page 9
