Unfortunately, it wasn’t that kind of seer one generally heard of. The most terrifying were the ones that claimed the ability to know your future from either dream translation or what they called divine knowledge. These predictions, more often than not, led to tragic accidents or terrible deaths.
No one sought a seer.
Castiel smiled. “It may be superstitious, but there are some magicians that can sense when they’re being thought of. They can even locate where an individual is by concentrating on them. I’ve never asked, but perhaps that’s the power that seers rely on. Melia’s mother is very powerful, but luckily, she’s also a very good woman.”
I flinched. “But wait. I thought—”
“That seership is passed on from mother to daughter? Yes. Melia would have taken upon her the title of seer if she hadn’t denounced the calling.”
“Can she do that?”
Castiel only shrugged.
I braced against a nearby tree and said a silent prayer of thanks as the last of the nausea disappeared. “So what is her name?”
He cast a glance over his shoulder to the resting guard several yards away, then came closer to whisper in my ear. “Melora.”
“Melora? Melia and Melora Seraphine?”
He flinched, then hushed me with a finger pressed to his mouth. “You better hope she didn’t hear you.” He backed away, a smile tugging at his lips. “Do you feel better?”
I nodded.
“Good. Now what you should have been taught a long time ago is that we are all connected through this energy I spoke of.” He picked a rock from the ground. The sun reflected white from is smooth, gray surface. The prince tossed it high into the air, easily catching it when it fell. His smile radiated across his face and filled me with pleasure.
I inhaled, taking a step back. “Why are you glowing?” The air around him shimmered silver in a gentle breeze, and like him, it was beautiful.
He laughed, and the sound traveled across my chest. “It’s my aura. The potion you took allows you to see the energy we as magicians’ harness. When our mortal senses are weakened due to exhaustion, fasting, sickness, drug, or drink, it exposes us to our other senses. The potion is better than those methods, but not as strong as it could be by doing it the right way.”
“Which is?”
“Proper meditation and practice.”
I groaned, but he ignored it.
“Detached from the real world, you open your senses to the energy around you. Your magic doesn’t need sleep or even water to fortify it. In fact, the more you pay attention to it—the more you call upon it—the stronger it will become and the faster it will respond.” He reached toward me, holding the glowing rock close to my face. “This is not alive, and yet it has a force that you can now see.”
I hesitated before I reached out, my fingers playing in the field surrounding it. The air around the rock felt almost denser.
“When I drop it, it creates a reaction.” It fell to the ground with a thump. A visible shockwave rippled across the grass and traveled down the hill. Castiel continued. “We can pull energy from the thing itself, use the energy something holds and releases when acting or being acted upon, and we can access energy created by powerful emotions. Magicians tap into all of that, but in ways that are conducive to the individual.”
“How do you use it?”
“Sit down, I’ll show you.”
I finally did as he asked. In my periphery, Ketrina had abandoned her perch for one much closer.
“Good. As I said, it’s different for everyone, but the best way to learn it is to do it.” Castiel pointed to the rock again. “Now, watch.”
He stared at it, and a second later, it hovered in the air then landed softly upon the grass.
“Now you try.”
I took a deep breath, feeling more than a little foolish. I glared at the rock and willed it to raise, but nothing happened. I rolled my eyes and looked away. “I can’t do it.”
“Don’t give up hope so quickly. Let’s try something you’ve already done. What about the Demon Daughter’s flames?”
“You mean my ‘simple parlor trick’?”
He grimaced. “I’m sure it was more than that, but my brother doesn’t need to know everything.”
Frustration worked at my nerves. “Only one other man dared to call me the Demon Daughter to my face, and I killed him.” I looked to Castiel, but he merely watched me, patiently waiting for me to continue. I took a deep breath and explained. “We got word of a border skirmish that grew violent a few years back. I was sent to regulate. It was meant to be a quick and nonviolent resolution, but a unit of mercenaries from both Eira and Anolyn had taken over the small town.”
“I remember that. Two years ago?”
I nodded. “By the time I arrived with a group of soldiers, most of the citizens hung from trees as a threat to those that still survived and now lived as servants. The moment we were seen, they attacked. One man recognized me. He called me that ridiculous name.”
“Well, the rumors had to start somewhere. Perhaps I should find the man who drew that sketch of the Demon Daughter. How did you do it?”
“She comes on her own,” I said.
“She?”
I nervously wrung my fingers. “It’s me. It’s rage. It’s the magic, I guess.”
“Are you saying it activates itself?”
“It only ever happens when I’m in battle and I’m really angry.”
“And that’s it?” Confusion furrowed his brow. “Shouldn’t you know more about a power that basically takes over your body?”
I only shrugged.
He sighed. “Very well. What did you do to get Sameen and Reese to help you escape?”
I growled. “Again, I don’t know. That magic only ever worked when I really needed something.”
“Try it with me.” His lips lifted in the corners. His blue eyes captured me.
“What?”
“Try to get me to do something. Here, place your hands in mine.”
I tsked. “I don’t want to. This is stupid.”
I made to stand up, but his hands fastened down on my knees. “Just do it.”
His warm energy blended with mine, shooting tendrils of heat through my body. My eyes grew wide. “Get your hands off my legs.”
“Make me.”
I glared.
His hands flew back. His mouth opened wide, but nothing came out. He clamped it shut. One brow raised.
I mirrored his response, daring him to try again. After a minute of silence, he swallowed hard and cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Well, that was something, but I didn’t sense your magic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like in the forest when you transformed into the Demon—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
“When you erupted, then?”
I only nodded, allowing the description.
“I didn’t see your mark. I saw you and the flames your power conjured, but not your mark. Maybe it isn’t magic.”
“Or maybe this blueish hue you think was me really wasn’t.” I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped them close.
He looked down at his hands to examine them. “Silvery blue—like your eyes. Again, you forget, I watched you for three months. Although infrequent, your magical charm worked on many the guard there.”
“My unsettling eyes and my freakish charms,” I muttered.
Confusion twisted his features.
“You called my eyes unsettling,” I clarified.
A smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “I find them unique. Even beautiful.”
I blushed, plucking several blades of grass from their roots. I gasped when their radiance dimmed. “Great. I killed them,” I said, throwing them away with a guilty conscience.
Castiel laughed. “You react more to killing that grass then the mer—” He covered his mouth when I pinned him with a glare. A moment later he cleared his thr
oat. “So, you have to be in danger or really annoyed. I can work with that. Touch may also help you.”
I flinched. It was true that touch had been effective with Sameen and a few others before her, but not everyone. I told him as much.
“I’m not saying it’s a must with your magic, but it probably makes it easier for you to influence your powers. A trigger.” He clapped and rubbed his hands together as if to warm them, then reached out to me. “Push me away with your magic.”
Hesitantly, I pressed my palms into his. Again, our energies blended. The light from his aura pulsed brighter and I yanked away. It faded. Meanwhile, Castiel didn’t flinch, only patiently waited for me to reconnect. I swallowed and clapped my hands against his. My heart soared like a falcry from the warmth of his skin on mine. Power surged. It tingled all senses within.
“Now, push me away,” Castiel said.
But did I want to?
The thought whispered in the back of my mind. I shook my head. “I can’t.” It was a lie. I suddenly knew all I had to do was command, and the magic would obey.
“Come on, Ilianna.”
From over his shoulder, movement caught my attention. I pulled from him to stand. “Someone draws near to Meyrion.”
Castiel turned. “Riaan is taking an audience today…”
His voice trailed when he saw what drew my attention. The oncoming person dragged something barely recognizable as human on a makeshift gurney behind him.
“Lieutenant!” But Reese had already sprung from his watch, hurrying towards his prince. “Run ahead and warn the king, then fetch the healer.”
The guard sprinted from the hilltop at an impressive speed. Castiel lurched two steps forward then stopped short. From over his shoulder he glanced to me. For a split-second a wary expression warred in his eyes. I answered his unspoken question by racing past him after the guard, but he easily caught up. It was hard for him to match my slower pace, but he would not run ahead as I coaxed. The potion—woken by my jostling—roiled like a hostile force in my stomach.
It was only a mile that separated us from the borders of the courtyard, but the distance seemed multiplied by the situation, and by the glow that blurred my vision. With only halfway to go, and without warning, the potion reviled against such ill-treatment and leaped up my esophagus. I skidded to a halt, pitched sideways to my hands and knees, and heaved.
Castiel was at my side in an instant, his voice muffled. “I worried this would happen.”
“Go.” I waved him on.
“But—”
My voice was strained. “I won’t run away. I promise.”
“That’s not why I worry.” His deep concern shocked me, but I would not look at him.
“It doesn’t matter. You are needed. Go.”
I heaved deep breaths of air, feeling the paleness of my own face. Castiel remained torn, but after a few seconds more, he left me to my own.
Was I upset that he actually listened? I turned from his fading form to collect my wits. I could only imagine what the prince worried about. Did he think I would try to run?
The potion’s effect was less, but still everything emitted a soft glow. I resumed my trek to Meyrion, more aware of my surroundings than ever. A shrill cry filled the air. Ketrina circled restlessly about the canopy of trees, but she couldn’t risk being seen by more than a dozen spectators. Her golden energy created a halo around her, encasing her.
Fatigue pulled at my body, the effects of Melora’s concoction. By the time I made it to the castle gardens, guards, attendants, and courtiers created a wide circle around the gurney and its owner. Fallen to his knees, the shabby man’s tears streaked through his dirt-caked face. He forced back everyone who pressed forward to help.
The smell slowed my approach. I paced just outside the circle of gawkers. Most avoided looking at me, but others stared outright, their curiosity bright in their eyes. I could almost hear their thoughts.
Castiel stood next to the man, his hand on one dirtied shoulder. Melia and Mikael approached the nervous din of gawkers. “Step back, all of you. Let the king through.”
The crowd shifted, running out of the path of their leader, giving me a direct line-of-sight to Weylan. Where had he come from? Hadn’t Castiel said he’d be gone by morning? A single guard stood behind him, arms crossed and appearing more interested in the action than with the conspiratorial Eirian.
My insides swam against the tide of the potion. Of course this would pique Weylan’s interests. He always did like a good show. Thankfully, he kept his distance. I stepped behind several taller courtiers so as not to be seen.
Riaan was quick to take in the scene. His sharp eyes flashed to mine for a brief moment before observing the main attraction.
Behind him, his mistress watched, her narrowed gaze dashing madly between the hovel of a man and the surrounding crowd, her stance rigid. At first, I thought her thrilled by the excitement until something else caught my attention. Her hand slipped into a secreted pocket in her otherwise fashionable gown—the same kind of pocket that would hide a weapon. The same kind of pocket Pala had sown into every one of my dresses.
The muscles of her neck tensed as she paced to the other side of her king. Perhaps the mistress was more than she seemed.
“What’s your name?” the king asked, regaining my attention.
The man shook his head. At first, I thought he would refuse to answer, then, “Oscove. I bring to you the fallen body of my brother, Nolen.”
The king placed a kind hand to his shoulder. “Who has done this, Oscove?”
“The Demon Daughter.”
Shock and then anger coursed through me. How could anyone think I was capable of such a disgusting thing? Even in my altered state, I would never massacre anyone.
It took effort for Castiel not to look at me, not to gauge my reaction. “Are you sure?”
Oscove nodded. “She’s here. She haunts our woods, my prince.”
“You’ve seen her, then?” Riaan asked. His eyes did find mine, accusation clearly written within them.
“No, but it’s rumored she is here. She arrived on a foul wind and sank her claws into our land. A plague among the living. She’ll kill us all.”
Castiel called to his guard. “Melia, Mikael, gather your men.”
Mikael nodded then sprinted from the scene with Melia flanking him.
“Where is my healer?” Riaan called out.
“He is coming, Your Majesty. He is hurrying,” Reese called as he ran from the building, but from the stench and the amount of blood that soiled the gurney, I doubted anything could be done.
“Lady Anna,” Castiel said. “Come, please.”
All eyes shot to me, including Weylan’s.
The king cleared his throat. “If you have no business here, leave.” And even though his voice was no more than a whisper, the crowd dispersed.
I jolted to obey, but Castiel’s voice stopped me. “Lady Anna.”
Weylan, who had retreated to the main castle doors to lean upon the threshold and observe, smirked at my displeasure. His guard stayed several paces away, still overly attentive to the spectacle.
I lifted my head and went to Castiel’s side. Oscove’s eyes grew large as I drew near.
“What do you see?” the prince asked.
There was no aura that pulsed from him like those that surrounded him. No energy. No light. I turned to Castiel to avoid the gruesome sight. “I’m not a heal—”
“What do you see?”
“Answer him, my lady,” Riaan snapped.
I stepped forward to examine the corpse. There was so much blood, but even through the carnage, something caught my attention. “There are no defensive marks on his body,” I said, my voice echoing on my ears. “I don’t believe he fought back.”
Oscove shook his head. “No. Killed in his sleep. He was a good man. A simple farmer. He didn’t deserve this.”
Nausea threatened my composure. The dead man’s arms were broken and lying at this side.
One palm rested upward at an odd angle, snapped at the wrist. The way he was attacked was very similar to the fashion Cy had killed Lucan’s men.
Something even more peculiar drew my attention. “These are not the hands of a farmer.”
Oscove froze. “What did you say?”
“There are old marks on this hand. Slices from swords or knives.” I carefully twisted his other wrist to see the inside of his second palm. Matching scores marred his skin.
The brother hissed. “How dare you.”
The Farmer
I turned to Castiel, anxiety in my words. “I do not mean offense. I’m only trying to help.”
Oscove’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing—”
“No,” I said cutting him off. “But he could have had enemies.”
Castiel nodded. “Oscove?”
He scowled at me but answered his prince. “No, he wasn’t always a farmer. He was a soldier of your great army, but when his wife died he chose to watch over his little ones. That was five years ago now.”
“What was his full name?”
“Nolen Odessa”
The prince flinched. “Odessa?”
“And he had no enemies other than the Demon Daughter. Why am I being questioned by this woman? Who is she?”
“I’m coming!” The healer’s voice interrupted. Gedeon’s legs struggled with the speed at which he drove them. “Out of the way,” he said, pushing past Weylan.
Castiel leaned to whisper in my ear. “Meet the artist of your second depiction.”
“What?”
Castiel gestured to the dead man with a tip of his head. His breath was warm on my ears. “Sergeant Nolen Odessa was the one who provided us with the first image of the Demon Daughter in battle.”
I flushed. Was he accusing me? Surely, he must know I didn’t kill the man. It was suspicious for sure, a revenge enacted against someone who had seen the legend’s face and got the ending he should have had in the first place. It was a logical conclusion, except for the simple fact that I was the legend and hadn’t killed anyone… lately.
“Where are the children now?” Castiel asked.
Oscove jerked back. “What?”
“The children. Where are they.”
Of Blood and Deceit Page 13
