Felling Kingdoms (Book 5)

by Jenna Van Vleet

  “So far.”

  He found the road in short order and reached a hand back to take hers up, putting it around his waist and did the same with the other. “Hold on.”

  I’aya jumped forward into a leggy canter, and Robyn’s fingertips dug into him, feeling a solid wall of muscle as he tensed to stay balanced.

  “What were those men after last night?”

  He looked over his shoulder after a moment. “A Prince can fetch a hefty price in ransom. A Queen even more. I have my crest embroidered on my tunic.”

  “They could not possibly have seen it in the dark.”

  He shrugged. “A thief knows his horseflesh, and any fool can spot a noble among serfs.”

  They rode in silence for a while, pacing the horse as the hills rolled out before them.

  “How long will you stay?” he asked after a while.

  “I have not decided.”

  Hours passed before signs of Rabier finally appeared on the horizon. The city was still celebrating. Flags fluttered in the ocean breeze, and the revelry grew louder the closer they drew.

  “I can skirt us in the side door,” he said and steered off the main road, riding well around the city to a small gate towards the back. The palace was not far off, and he asked I’aya for a lengthy canter to minimize their time in the city. The more people saw them, the more rumors would develop.

  He raced through the gate, into the palace, and slowed to a walk as grooms hurried their way to him. “My Prince, what happened?” a man asked in Arconian as he took the reins. Another came to the left and helped Robyn dismount.

  “Ambush.” Virgil kicked his boots from the stirrups and braced himself with both hands on the saddle. Easing himself to the ground was painful, and he put a hand over his hip with a wince. “Make sure she is rubbed down with a hot meal and turnout. I will not need her for a while.”

  Virgil gave Robyn his arm and walked slowly to the massive doors, favoring his left leg. The soldiers let them in with concerned expressions. He took the stairs bravely, walking her all the way to her room.

  “Rest yourself. I have something I want to give you later, so do not rest too long.” He kissed her hand and opened the door for her.

  “Your Grace!” her youngest maid gasped as Robyn stepped in. “What happened?”

  “Ambush. Please send for a meal and draw me a bath.” She flopped into a chair wearily and pulled off her boots. “And someone tell the Head Mage to shift that fine a…”

  “Rose or lavender in your bath?” the maid peaked from the washroom.

  “Lavender.”

  Chapter 8

  Virgil paced his room grinding his jaw, freshly washed, shaven and dressed in shades of red and gray. Two rings sat in the palm of his clammy hands, one silver, the other black. Virgil’s trunk was already packed, ready to move into Kilkiny. In it laid the most feared weapon known to Mage kind: the glass Castrofax.

  His stomach lurched. He would be damming the man to a lifetime of paralysis, a fate most people would rank worse than death.

  He took in a deep breath and straightened his coat, slipping the silver ring on his little finger. Robyn’s room was just up the stairs on the other side of the tower, and he devoured the space in record time. His adrenaline spurred him on. ‘I would rather be in battle.’ Battles were easier. He knew what to do in those.

  He rapped on her door and a maid answered. Robyn emerged a minute later dressed in a slender Arconian gown of flowing green satin that hugged her figure beautifully. While Anatolian dresses were magnificent, they were bulky and hid the figure from imagination.

  “Would you walk with me a while?” he asked and offered his arm. She took it with a smile. “Have you recovered from your long night?”

  “I have. How are your wounds?”

  “I had a physician look at the hip. You did a wonderful job, and he says if you ever grow tired of running a kingdom, you can work for him.” He took her up a flight of stairs slowly, leading her down a quiet, unused hall where a small sitting room resided. The room was dark and undisturbed. He closed the door behind him, sliding the lock closed while clearing his throat to muffle the sound.

  She went to the window and pushed the curtains open, throwing up a faint cloud of dust. “What a marvelous view,” she breathed.

  Virgil stepped beside her, leaning on the wall to look only at her. “It is.”

  She blushed.

  “Robyn, I think you know how I feel about you,” he began, never skilled with words. “I would do anything to call you mine. I have to know, once and for all, is there a chance I could be yours?”

  She lowered her eyes, and he had his answer.

  He cut in before she could reply and extended his palm to her. The black ring sat glistening in the sunlight. “Would you wear this as a token of our friendship then?”

  She gave him a grateful smile and took it up. “I will happily accept it.”

  But she did not put it on.

  “Go ahead,” he urged. “I think it would fit your index finger.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. “I cannot wear another man’s token, Virgil, but I will think of you always when I see it.”

  ‘That is not acceptable.’ “Go on,” he urged. “Let us see what it looks like.”

  She looked embarrassed. “No, I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Robyn,” he said commandingly in his officer voice. “Put it on.”

  “Virgil,” she said reproachfully. “I…” she reached for her summoning ring.

  He flung himself at her, taking her to the floor. She landed hard with a scream that cut off as her head hit the floor. The black ring bounced from her hand and skittered across the floor.

  “Get off,” she gasped, dazed. “Get off me.” She lashed out, her palm striking the side of his bruised head. He scrambled for her hands and gripped both her slender wrists in his large palm. He held it above her head as he reached for the black ring. “Virgil!” She screamed.

  He clamped a hand over her mouth, knowing what he had to do but regretting it already. There was no going back from here. He took her fair head in his hand and smashed it into the floor.

  She fell silent with a grunt, dazed but not unconscious. He braced the rest of his body over hers in a wide-leg spread. She was so petite, there was no way she could push him off. He stretched out and secured the ring.

  “Get off,” she choked, her eyes focused elsewhere. He was likely suffocating her.

  He raised up and knelt over her chest, bringing her bound hands to his lap. He selected the left middle finger where another ring already rested. It would blend in, and no one would notice.

  “Don’t,” she said with surprising clarity. “What do you want?” Her fingers curled in, but he held the middle fast. “Money, land, pardons?”

  “You,” he breathed. “I have always wanted you.”

  “Gabriel will…”

  “I will take care of him. I have a Castrofax.”

  She screamed a terrified “NO!” and tried to pull back, but he slid the ring on smoothly as butter.

  “Stop, ” he commanded calmly.

  She immediately became silent, her face blank, and her body relaxed into the floor. “I am truly sorry I had to do this, but I had no other way to you.” He lifted himself off and extended a hand to her. She accepted it and stood silently, staring at him blankly.

  “You will act normally at all times, you will do everything I tell you, and you will answer to no one but me. You will make no attempts to contact anyone to dispel the ruse, and you will do everything in your power to prevent the Head Mage from suspecting anything. Am I understood?”

  “Of course,” she replied calmly.

  He smiled. “It bloody works. Do not take that ring off and prevent anyone from trying. I will be returning to Anatoly with you. You will make a public announcement shortly after that we are to be married to strengthen the peace treaty and our kingdoms. Also, you will make no attempts on my life or enlist anyone to do so.”


  “Of course.”

  “Do you have anything to say?”

  “If you touch me…”

  “Oh, Robyn,” he stepped up close and smoothed back her hair. “You have no idea what I can do for you. Now, how about a kiss to seal our betrothal? And make it worth it.”

  She looked so compliant, he believed her delight genuine as she closed the gap and stretched up to kiss him. He pulled her close with one hand around her back and put the other around her jaw. She kissed him fiercely and with obvious practice. The moment he had been waiting for since he first saw her was finally fulfilled, and it was worth the wait.

  Chapter 9

  Classing was going smoothly as could be expected despite the Gaelsin’s insistence on whipping Gabriel’s hair about, ignorant to the range of his Element as he manipulated it. Gabriel let it go unchecked, and in no time the torrent of air subsided as the bald man pulled his patterns closer to him. Gabriel flicked his hair back where it should be, snickering at Mikelle who was glaring intensely. Her hair was destroyed.

  A summons suddenly pinged in his chest. He had many summoning-patterns linked to numerous rings scattered through the lands, and each bore a different feel. He did not recognize this one and ran through his inventory of summons. It was Lace. The tingling sensation faded slowly, but suddenly spiked again.

  He directed his attention back to the Gaelsin and wondered if it would be appropriate to cut the Classing short when the summons came again.

  He raised his hand for halt. “Thank you, Paul, that will be sufficient.” The Council looked relieved. “Aisling, if you will show him out?”

  The man hobbled off the table and took Aisling’s hand, grinning and talking cordially. Lace’s summons came again.

  Gabriel stood abruptly and seized Void. “I’m being urgently summoned to Arconia. I will return as soon as I am able.”

  “Is it Roby?” Cordis asked.

  “No, Lace,” he replied and set the searchers-pattern, zipping into the grayscale world of calm stillness. He affixed his white cloak properly, throwing the shorter half over his shoulder, and dipped under the Dahrry Sea. Bold white cliffs rapidly loomed up from the light gray ocean, and a heartbeat later, he appeared in Lace’s quarters.

  She gasped on a couch with a look of pure terror on her face. Her hands surrounded her swollen belly, swathed in a gray-blue gown, darkened around her lower half with water and blood.

  “Lace,” he gasped as he cut the searchers.

  Her wide eyes flew to him. “Behind you!” she shouted, and something solid hit the back of his head. Gabriel stumbled to his side dazed but scrambled to his regain his balance between Lace and his attacker.

  “Pike,” he hissed.

  Pike Bronwen stood looking bored in a long green coat. A hand casually rested in his pocket while the other twirled a green pattern. “You took your time.”

  Gabriel stepped back and reached out to quietly gasping Lace. All he needed was to make contact, and he could shift them back to Jaden, but Pike was watching. The man was a Class ten in Earth, Spirit, and Void and must have known Gabriel’s intent. Suddenly his bored brown eyes became white and angry. In a blink Gabriel was thrown against the far wall, and the tall man rushed, driving his fist into Gabriel’s ribcage sharply.

  Gabriel flung him back with brute force and reached for kinetic energy. People milled about within the mansion, unaware of the danger in the bright sitting room. Gabriel snapped a cord-pattern from his wrist that lashed around Pike’s leg. The man teetered but vanished along with the cord that fell uselessly to the ground.

  Gabriel rushed for Lace again, but Pike appeared before him and grabbed his throat. A sense of loss went through Gabriel as the black pattern slipped into his chest, and the all-too-familiar sensation of his Elements vanishing gripped him. Pike smiled handsomely as Gabriel gasped, and laid a pierce-pinch against his chest. Pain rocketed through him as his nerves enflamed, and he staggered backwards, but Pike held him steady.

  He looked to Lace whose glistening face painted terror, and he knew what he had to do. He broke from Pike’s grip and made a break for the second-story window, counting the seconds. The pause-pattern kept the Elements at bay for thirty seconds, and with great luck, he could save himself in time.

  Glass flew around him as he fell through the spring air. Gabriel rotated his back to the ground as it rushed up, awaiting the Elements. They appeared a moment before he hit, and it was enough to let him bend the earth to soften his fall. The impact still forced air from his lungs.

  Servants in the yard scattered and screamed, suddenly aware of the danger present. Gabriel rose as Pike appeared, severing his connection with Void.

  “I have been waiting for this moment for awhile,” Pike sneered. “You got the best of me last time. Let me see if I can return the favor.”

  Pike moved so quickly Gabriel almost missed the motion, but he felt the repercussions a moment later. Pain shot through his left thigh. He stepped off the leg and realized it was rooted to the ground, pierced through with a spear of jagged stone eight inches through the thigh.

  “I am not the man I was when you last fought me,” Gabriel replied and sank green strings into the ground.

  “Older and wiser, are you?” Pike chuckled. “Your lady is bleeding t’ death, as will you if you move. Older, yes. Wiser, not quite yet.”

  Gabriel smiled.

  Sofiya, the Element of Water, had given him a great treasure: pages detailing patterns not seen in Ages. Earth Mages of this Age had not been able to manipulate metal past locating it in the ground, but Gabriel was created to be great.

  Metal was everywhere. In the ground, in the water, tiny flecks blowing in the air, and with a tremendous force, he pulled with every ounce of strength he had as Pike melded a green pattern. Pike paused when he saw the glinting flecks, some of gray, black, silver, even gold, and he frowned bewildered.

  Gabriel slammed his palms together and pushed the flecks towards Pike, enveloping him in the span of a heartbeat. He twisted the pattern as he folded his hands, and the glinting flecks instantly melted to one solid glimmering piece of moveable metal. Any blacksmith would swear metal had to be heated to become malleable, but no one controlled Earth like Gabriel.

  “What under the—” Pike gasped as the metal clamped around him, and he tried to raise his hands from the tar-textured mire. Gabriel altered the pattern and made it solid as Pike stretched a grimed hand towards him. He stopped solidly, fingers reaching for him. Pike’s face was furious, and he seized Void, his head the only part not encased in thin metal.

  Gabriel waggled a finger. “I would not lay a Void pattern with my mind if I were you,” he taunted. Pike’s angry eyes became dark once more, and he bared his teeth.

  With a controlled cry, Gabriel lifted his leg off the impaling stone, using Earth to pull the flecks out. Blood instantly gushed down his leg, and he knew he had to move quickly as he bound the wound with a cloth-pattern.

  He shifted to Lace whose face and hair were glossy with sweat. Two women stood around her, one dabbing her head while the other felt her belly. They looked up as Gabriel appeared.

  “Oh, Gabriel,” Lael breathed. “You are wounded.”

  “We have to go,” he stated and scooped the tiny woman into his arms. She was a mess of blood and water, trembling in pain. “What did he do to you?” he whispered vehemently. Lace put her head on his shoulder and released her tension into him as she shook. “I am taking her to Castle Jaden where she will be safe,” he stated in Arconian to the women and zipped to where Pike still stood. He tried wrenching himself free but only succeeding in cutting his neck.

  “Lace, can you make a connection with him?” he asked quietly. She nodded faintly and took a fistful of the Arch Mage’s hair, gripping tightly to make him grunt. Gabriel shot them towards Jaden, feeling the fatigue in blood loss as he bled into his boot.

  “What happened?” he whispered, resting his tired head on hers.

  “He just appeared,” she win
ced. “And threw me down.”

  “I’ll get you patched up. I can fix this.”

  “I do not need to be fixed.” Her voice rose in pain. “Gabriel, I am going into labor!”

  “What?” he breathed. “Oh my stars. You’re too early!”

  “You are going t’ be a father,” Pike grinned maliciously.

  Gabriel shot a sleepers-pattern into his head, and Pike fell silent.

  Castle Jaden loomed in the distance, and he slid through the wards, racing up to the infirmary, and severing the pattern in the atrium. The yellow-mantled woman at the desk started and quickly stood shouting for help.

  Gabriel remained rooted to the spot, leaning all his weight on his right leg knowing the left would give if he tried to walk. His face felt cold against Lace’s hot hair.

  “Head Mage, give her to me,” a man said as he rushed up.

  “She’s in labor. Bring your best midwife. Someone find Mage Afton and Lewis and do not let them leave her side.”

  Lace reached out a hand for him as the man took her up. “My hips. My hips are too narrow for this.”

  “We can manage it.”

  “No,” she said, her voice filled with tears. “I want you there.”

  “Head Mage, you need to sit,” someone said behind him.

  “I will be right there,” he said. “Take her.”

  Gabriel fell back into a chair as healers flooded into the atrium, staring at the unconscious Arch Mage incased in metal. “Send for the Secondhand,” he said, and someone to his left rushed off.

  A blond man knelt before Gabriel and took up the left leg, ripping the fabric of his trousers on both sides. “Hello, Head Mage,” the man in his middle years said cordially, reaching fingers inside the wound and pinching something. The bleeding slowed dramatically. “I’m Ailin. You Classed me last week. You took quite a wound here.” He peered in and set a white pattern inside, removing his hand as he realigned the severed artery. “Alright, just a minute more.”

  He set multiple white patterns, and the muscles reconnected with a sucking sound. Gabriel watched the man work carefully, impressed with his grasp of healing despite being a Gaelsin. Once the skin sealed, Ailin gripped above the knee and bent the leg back and forth. He clamped his hand on the thigh tightly. “Feel t’at?”