Mage Evolution (Book 3)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  Back Cover

  A Fantasy Novel by Virginia G. McMorrow

  When Alex is traitorously given feyweed, she loses her hard-earned mage powers. Suspicion falls on the queen’s lover, Jackson, but Alex refuses to believe him guilty. When Alex’s 4-year-old daughter becomes a target, too, Alex and Anders travel north to Spreebridge, searching for an antidote and the reasons behind the attacks. Finding an unexpected ally in Kimmer Frehan, an old friend of Alex’s father, some of the answers point to a plot by Spreebridge mages to eliminate any magic that does not conform to their craft. Returning home, Alex, with the help of family and friends, connives to thwart the assailants. But danger and betrayal faces them at every turn – along with the possibility that Alex may never regain her power.

  Mage Evolution

  The Crownmage Trilogy

  •Mage Confusion

  •Mage Resolution

  Virginia G. McMorrow

  MuseItUp Publishing

  www.museituppublishing.com

  Chapter One

  “Two formal state dinners in three months is asking entirely too much of me.” Having voiced that complaint aloud, I sank with grateful abandon onto the pile of plush embroidered cushions next to Anders Perrin, my husband of five years. We were in the queen’s private parlor, where our small group of friends sought escape from the noisy crowd of courtiers and diplomats. “No offense intended, of course, my lord,” I murmured to Derek Frontish, the senior elder from the land of Spreebridge, our northern and now-friendly neighbor.

  “None taken of course, Mage Protector.” The gentleman’s smile was a stiff grimace that did nothing to soften the formality of his demeanor or the expression in his eyes as he used my ridiculous title, one the queen spitefully bestowed on me. “Your aversion to formal occasions is well known.” The diplomat made an effort to broaden his smile. “And, I confess, if not for the pleasant company in which I find myself at the moment,” —he nodded at the rest of our cozy group— “I would be as averse as you.”

  “Elder Frontish, you surprise and disappoint me. I expect that reaction from Alex, which is one of the reasons I command her presence at these events, but I don’t expect it from you, as a seasoned representative of your people.” Elena Dunneal, reigning monarch of Tuldamoran, and my very close friend, didn’t try to hide her amusement as she leaned over and patted my cheek with affection. She winked at my husband, who didn’t bother to hide a grin.

  Grumbling, I cast an absent glance around the elegant but simple furnishings, trying to find a legitimate excuse to leave Ardenna in the middle of the night, steal my four-year-old daughter from her doting grandparents deep in the Glynnswood forest, and flee back to Port Alain.

  “Alexandra, really—” Anders scolded, using my full name to annoy me further, then adding a sharp tug at a strand of my shoulder-length dark brown curls. “Is that any way for the queen’s Mage Protector to act in front of an honored visitor from Spreebridge? Not to mention the fact he’s the guest of honor—”

  “I’m being civilized.”

  “She is being civilized, according to her standards,” Elena reassured him with a grave smile. “But Alex,” —her dark blue eyes feigned innocence as she toyed with her half-empty wineglass— “it’s not often that the most-distinguished elder and mage from Spreebridge comes to visit Tuldamoran on a formal mission and—”

  Before I could reply, Jules Barlow, Duke of Port Alain, leaned away from the safety of the silk-covered wall at his back, perilously close to a drunken slouch, and tapped me on the shoulder. “In case you’ve forgotten, oh fierce Mage Protector, not only is the distinguished elder mage from Spreebridge sitting opposite you, but so is the ambassador from Spreebridge.”

  “Him?” I waved an airy dismissal in Jackson Tunney’s direction, where bright green eyes studied me with equal humor. “His eyes are too indecent for the man to be taken seriously as an ambassador, in my humble opinion.”

  “Don’t take her comments as a personal insult.”

  Elena planted a lingering kiss on Jackson’s lips, fully aware Elder Frontish was watching, which made me wonder if she was testing the limits of his tolerance. Spreebridge folk, with the exception of Jackson, had the reputation of conservative, dull behavior and mindset. If we were to nurture a new trade relationship with our northern neighbor, Elena might just be thinking it was best for this gentleman to observe the differences in our behavior. And knowing Elena, who never did anything without good reason, she may have simply been letting him observe different facets of our interaction.

  “Alex is jealous of you,” Elena told her lover, who didn’t need the slightest bit of reassurance, “because for the last five years, her splendid mage talent is no longer unique but a mirror of yours.”

  “And she’d rather yours had been like mine,” Anders cut in with a wide grin on his face, dodging my fist.

  “Precisely,” I grumbled. “I’m annoyed at both of you.”

  In five short years, I’d changed from flatly denying my unconventional mage talent, which allowed me to transform one element to another, to rejoicing in the gift. And it was a gift, granted by the lords of the elements, making it possible for me to save Elena’s throne from a traitorous coup and, soon after, capture dangerous rogue mages from Spreebridge. During that adventure, Anders and I crossed paths with Jackson Tunney, who’d been sent by the Spreebridge elders to help prevent the renegades from further criminal behavior. When Elena and Jackson came together in Port Alain at the end of the affair, the two had eyes for no one else. The rest, as they say, was history of sorts.

  When we encountered Jackson on that journey, he’d offered a surprising revelation. His mage talent was similar to mine. But Anders’s magic was still unique, a legendary figure come to life, come thankfully into my life. As the mythical Crownmage, Anders could control and transform each element within itself, a feat of which no ordinary mage was capable. Most mages, like my long-dead seamage mother, had control over one element only. And Glynnswood mages, like my father and half-brother, from the semi-independent Duchy within Elena’s kingdom, could only change one element to another, as could mages from Spreebridge, like Elder Frontish.

  Trying to get to the bottom of this tangle, I spent the last few years attempting to understand how the mage bloodlines worked, curious as to the type of mage child Anders and I had created. Emmy had yet to show any type of magic, but I believed it was only a matter of time. It would’ve seemed an unnecessary waste of both Anders’s and my mage talent to have a child with no magic. But if it turned out the imp had not the slightest inclination toward magic, it wouldn’t change the simple fact that Anders and I adored her.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I shrugged. “I’m better and faster than Jackson, anyway.” Ignoring Anders’s snide comment, I rolled up the silk sleeves of my gown, which I couldn’t wait to rip off in exchange for something comfortable. Closing my eyes tight, I coaxed the internal fire and ice awake, blending them easily into cool warmth that tingled through every inch of my body. “That pitcher of water,” —I pointed at the low wooden table between Jules’s wife, Lauryn, and Jackson—“will become flame quicker than—”

  “Alex.” Anders jabbed me with a sharp elbow, destroying my concentration, setting the cool warmth to piercing fire and ice. “You’ve had a little too much Marain Valley wine with dinner and are apt to start a blaze to ruin Elena’s very expensive furniture.”

  “Stiff-necked wretch,” I pouted, turning my back on my husband and challenging the queen instead. “Admit it, Elena.”

  “Admit what?”

  “That you invited Elder Frontish to Tuldamoran simply to get me to come to Ardenna, because you know I hate coming to this infernal, noisy, smelly city.” I
pulled at Elena’s long black hair until she stopped whispering in Jackson’s ear to send Anders a sidelong glance that shared their mutual suffering at my hands.

  “Fine. I admit it. For no other reason, Alex. Elder Frontish and I had nothing whatsoever of a serious nature to discuss. In fact, considering our new relationship is the most historic event since we opened trade with Meravan, our neighbor across the Skandar Sea, that little point is of no significance. Am I correct, Elder Frontish?”

  “Absolutely,” the gentleman replied, sitting back on his cushions, seeming more relaxed in our contentious company as time went on.

  “See? I knew it.” Elbowing Anders, I gave him a smug grin. “You always scold me for being disrespectful to the queen but that’s a good example of why I am. If only Brendan were here, I might have more respect for the Crown. And Brendan shows more respect for me.”

  “Yes,” Elder Frontish interjected, inclining his head toward Elena, “I am sorry to miss your heir and brother. Even north of our border in Derbarry, we have heard many good things about the young man.”

  “Don’t ever tell him that.” Elena laughed, her dark features reminiscent of Brendan. “He’s sorry to miss you, too, but he’s finally old enough for me to delegate tasks I prefer not to do.” Her grin was openly affectionate. “Brendan should be back within the week, though I fear it will be too late. However, if you still plan to accompany the first shipment of precious gems from your mines in the Keshtang Mountains,” —she threw in official business to spite me, I knew it— “I’ll send my brother to welcome you.”

  “That’s because she’s lazy, Elder Frontish, and can’t bear to leave this horrid city to visit her royal subjects.” A complete and utter lie, as Elena was rarely at home in the fortress. More often than not, she came knocking at our door in the middle of the night. After a two-day journey south to Port Alain, where Jules ruled as duke, I taught the local children, and Anders plotted with Jules’s mother as they gardened together.

  “Your majesty.” Anders bowed with deep respect from his comfortable perch on the elegant silk-woven rug. “Be assured I keep my daughter away from her mother when she behaves in this fashion. Emmy will always treat you with respect and—” Anders neatly caught his balance as I shoved him.

  “Leave my daughter out of this discussion.”

  “Poor Anders.” Elena reached over to kiss my husband’s smooth-shaven cheek. “She mistreats you so.”

  “She does, you know.” Blue-eyed Lauryn, quiet until now, decided to make some abusive noise of her own. “You wouldn’t believe what goes on back home.”

  “I can’t believe you would turn on me.” I threw a spiteful glance her way. “Just wait until I have your twins all to myself in the schoolroom.”

  Lauryn tossed an auburn strand over her silk-clad shoulder, dismissing my threat. “I still can’t figure out why they adore you so. At eleven, they’re old enough to know better.”“

  I stared at Lauryn, shocked. “You never side with them against me. Never. Ever. Did my husband bribe you? Did Elena threaten your life? Did—”

  “She should do it more often.” Jules hugged his wife close with smug pride. “When sweet Lauryn has a nasty word for you, Alex,” —he raked a hand through his hair, disheveling his appearance— “it says something pretty clear to me. In fact—”

  “Why not shut up and be useful, my lord duke. Pour us some of that Marain Valley wine,” I suggested, “since Elena’s maid was kind enough to bring in a fresh bottle. Defending my reputation is thirsty work.”

  “So is offending you.” Jules reached behind Lauryn’s chair and poured us each a full glass of the rich fruity wine from the new bottle.

  Jackson lifted his glass in a mocking salute but stopped abruptly. A curious expression bloomed in those indecent green eyes. He sniffed the contents, puzzled.

  “Sour?” Anders held his wineglass close to his own nose and sniffed. “Possibly a bad batch of grapes from Tucker’s Meadow. I’m not sure.”

  “I’m the expert,” I said with confidence, sniffing my glass, and then making a judgment call. “I’ll let you know.” That decided, I brought the crystal glass to my lips and tilted it back as Anders did the same.

  But I was the one, the only one, who took a deep, irreversible swallow.

  “No!” Jackson leaped across the space between us to knock the glasses from both our hands. “Lords of the sea, Alex, no! Ah, no— Ah, damn.”

  I sat motionless, the remains of my wine spilled onto my silk gown, trying hard not to panic at the open fear in Jackson’s eyes, because I knew what that expression meant.

  “What is it?” Elena’s voice tensed as she grabbed hold of Jackson’s arm and shook it with little tenderness, knowing full well that neither of us was playing a trick. “Tell me! Jackson, what is it? Poison?”

  Jackson’s handsome face drained of all color. “Worse,” he whispered, miserable eyes locked on mine in sympathy. “Feyweed.” His voice shook, as he glanced at Elder Frontish, the gentleman’s face expressing shock, and then back to me. “For Alex, it’s worse than poison.”

  My eyes never left Jackson’s face as I clutched Anders’s hand with a death grip, waiting for the inevitable loss. So abrupt and cruel and painful, that I cried out in horror and despair, feeling the deep, cold, unending well of emptiness inside me. Knowing it was useless, still I tried to nudge my mage talent awake, searched for the piercing fire and ice that I so long denied. It was gone, utterly and completely gone, and I was lost. With a child’s whimper, I groped my way into Anders’s stunned embrace, needing his comfort until I could breathe easy again.

  No one moved or spoke in the horrible silence until Elena placed a trembling hand on my shoulder in comfort. “There must be a draught to reverse this disaster. Jackson, surely— Elder Frontish, there must be—” Lost in a fog of misery, I heard the quiet desperation in Elena’s voice and the hesitation in Jackson’s as he muttered something vague, joined soon after by apology in the elder’s voice. But Elena wouldn’t accept their answers.

  “There’s no draught to reverse feyweed’s damage.” Gathering resolve, I raised my head from the shelter of Anders’s chest to face Elena. “I’m afraid I’m useless to you now, your majesty.” I brushed dampness from my cheeks with the back of a hand and thought longingly of my daughter. “I don’t think the Ardenna Crown Council of Mages, despite their well-intentioned behavior these last five years, would tolerate a Mage Protector who no longer has a drop of magic at her command.” I rose from the cushions, pushing free of Anders’s protective grip, trying to ignore the cold void inside me. I was desperate to escape the pity I knew would be on all their faces.

  “Alex, stop.” Elena’s dark blue eyes were damp as she tried to prevent my imminent fall into despair. “You’re not thinking.”

  “There’s nothing to think about. I—I need to go home.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.” Jules gripped my arm, his swiftly sobered eyes dazed with anxiety and shock and, as expected, pity.

  “We’ve crept in and out of Ardenna before in the middle of the night.” Not wanting to lash out in anger at my innocent friends, I kept fury and bitterness from my voice. But despair won out, nearly crippling me. “Anders, please—”

  Compassion eloquent in his gaze, Anders stood up and led me from the room, away from Ardenna, and away from my pain.

  * * * *

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I couldn’t bear to stay there a moment longer.” Huddled tight against Anders’s chest, feeling safe and sheltered, I was uncertain whether or not he was awake. But I should have known better.

  “That’s why I led you out of there, against Elena’s pleas to stay until morning.” When Anders ran a familiar hand along my spine, I shivered. Closing my eyes, I edged closer, snuggling against his bearish warmth. “Only a little longer tomorrow morning, Alex, and we’ll be at your father’s home in Hartswood.” The lumpy bed creaked beneath his weight as Anders eased the tension from my neck and should
ers. Lords of the sea, but he was patient when I needed him to be. With not a single word of reproach, he’d stuffed our clothes into our travel bags while I changed into tunic and trousers, and led me out the city gates to a small inn on the outskirts of Ardenna. “Besides, it’ll do you good to see Emmy. It’ll do us both good.”

  Emmy, Emila Rose, named after the seamage mother I never knew and the woman who raised me, Rosanna Barlow. The kingdom’s recorded history had never reported a child born of a Crownmage and Mage Protector. Our daughter was a mystery.

  “How can I teach Emmy about magic when her own talent surfaces?” I whispered. “They stole that pleasure from me, too.”

  “We’ll find an antidote, Alex. I promise.”

  “Don’t promise something that’s impossible.”

  Frowning, Anders placed a firm hand beneath my chin and forced me to look at him. “It’s not like you to lose faith.” When he saw the protest in my eye, he covered my lips with his finger and shook his head. “Don’t start now.”

  * * * *

  “Mama!” My serious, serene, well-mannered four-year-old daughter shouted in wild abandon when she saw us dismount in front of my father’s cottage the next morning.

  We’d made the trip south along the Kieren River and then west over the Glynnswood border to Hartswood. The village stood at the center of the deep forest, and we made good time, now that winter’s end was in sight. Anders complained not once about the swift, reckless pace I set, anxious to put distance between me and the nightmarish reminder of what happened.

  Desperate for comfort, I snatched Emmy into my embrace as she wrapped one tiny arm around my neck and the other around her father’s, hugging us as though we’d been gone for a century. “You can’t possibly be my daughter.” I stared at the child in mock horror as the seagray eyes she inherited from Anders studied me back from beneath long dark curls she inherited from me. “Running about like a wild mountain lion. What will the people of Hartswood think of Elder Keltie’s wild granddaughter?” I shook my head gravely and smoothed curls back from her pretty face. “You must be a changeling. Now, tell me, where’s my little girl?”