The Might of Magic

by N M Zoltack

  27

  Bjorn Ivano

  The man from Maloyan hardly felt like a champion anymore. Bjorn hardly felt like he was a man even. What he needed was a bed, a meal cooked over a hot fire, and a long bath. For so long, he had been on the road, so very long that he felt as if parts of the road now covered him such that the road walked upon the road.

  The Li princess was not where he had left her, not on the beach, but there had not been heavy winds save for what the dragons wrought nor had there been rain, so tracking her proved rather easy, and he found her sneaking up on a hare. Normally, she wore her long, straight black hair loose, but right this moment, she had tethered it back with a short bit of rope, which served to highlight her high cheekbones.

  He paused and watched as she stalked—no, glided—over the grass, and when she sprang, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had snagged her prize.

  And she had.

  Without turning around, she called, “Why have you returned? I thought I was quite clear—”

  “I wish to tell you what I have learned.”

  She faced him. There was fire in her dark eyes. Despite being as travel-weary as he was, she appeared fresher than he had to look. Even if she had mud or dirt smeared across her face, she would look beautiful. Any number of men would be willing to take up arms and fight for her if she would only ask them to.

  But she would not ask that of strangers. Even after all of the help and loyalty he had shown her, she would not trust him even to fight for her.

  “I don’t care to hear anything you have to say,” she snapped. “You aren’t a man. You are a—”

  “One act does not define a person,” he protested.

  “Not one act, no, but twice now, your actions have caused men to die, have they not?”

  He neglected to refute her claim because he knew it would be pointless and also because she was right.

  “And you are a champion, a fighter, a warrior, a killer. That is who you are, and—”

  “And you think so little of knights, don’t you? Even though knights are held to such high standards? Is that why you have not raised yourself an army?”

  “I will take the throne without one, or I will not take the throne at all,” she declared through gritted teeth.

  She stomped away from him and sat on a large rock as she started to skin the hare.

  He approached slowly. “I have learned about what the Vincanans are planning,” he said, a bit of desperation leaking into his words.

  “Am I to care?” she asked, sounding utterly bored and disinterested. Her gaze only landed on him for a second, a blink of an eye, but she was visibly furious at him.

  A wave of desperation to prove himself to her and also to himself washed over him, and he nodded, almost bowing to her, and then in fact, he did bow to her.

  “I hope to see you again one day, My Queen,” he uttered, and he departed from her side once more.

  28

  Olympia Li

  Do not move. Do not look at him. Do not call him back.

  Olympia wished to ignore him. She wanted to so badly. After all, she could not trust him.

  Yet she found herself standing and placing the dead half-skinned hare on the rock. Swiftly, she rushed forward after him but not for the reason that he might have thought.

  Her hand gripped his shoulder, and he spun about to face her so swiftly that she almost fell onto him. His strong hands gripped her hips, clearly to steady her and nothing more, but she jerked back.

  “I do not need…” She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Why was she breathing so heavily? It wasn’t as if she had to run a great distance to catch up to him. “Where are you off to? Are you going to tell that young queen of yours in Atlan Castle?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  Olympia scowled. She hated the teasing smirk curling his thick lips, hated that his hair, although wild and a bit unkempt suited him far more than any kind of polished look. His eyes pierced through her, and she glanced away.

  “Are you jealous?” he had the audacity to ask, but before she could absolve him of that absurd notion, he continued, “What have I done to have lost your trust? Should I hate myself for telling you the truth? Only you, I, and Sabine know the truth.”

  “How did you know to bring the poison in the first place?” Olympia asked. “Had you another use for it? Had she contacted you beforehand… How long did it take for you to venture from Maloyan to Atlan for the tournament? Did she contact you before she was wed? I’m a bit confused about the timeline, and how did she know to come to you?”

  “I told you this already,” he said through gritted teeth. “There was a letter with the invitation and—”

  “How convenient that the one who brought along poison for the new queen to use on the king should—”

  “I told you this already as well! I did not know who she sought to use the poison on.”

  “—was also the one to win the tournament,” she finished, ignoring his interruption.

  “You.” Bjorn shook his head several times and even took a step back away from her. “You lied to me. You told me that the first step to becoming a better man is to face your problems instead of ignoring them, yet when I told you…” He set his jaw.

  The man really cut a striking figure. Full and strong and hearty. So full of life and vigor. As long as he did not insult the wrong person, he should live until every last strand of hair on his head turned white.

  “I did not know her purpose for it,” he muttered. “There is a use of the poison to not kill a person. It can be used to help a person who needs to have a limb cut off due to injury…”

  “Yes, but you admitted you told her how to use it,” Olympia scolded.

  “Yes, every use of it, from the method for healers to the one for killing.” He inhaled deeply, his chest visibly expanding beneath his leather jerkin. “I thought you could accept me, flaws and all, but you, Olympia, are no saint.”

  “I, at least, haven’t planned on killing anyone.” She jerked her thumb to her chest. “I will try to take the throne without bloodshed!”

  “You’re naïve,” he spat out. “Even Jankin could not do that. I’m sorry—”

  Her palm ached from the slap she gave him, the sound of the clap echoing in her ears.

  “I’m sorry!” he repeated.

  Olympia just stood there, so furious with him that she did not know what to think or do or how to react.

  “My plan once I left you,” he admitted, “was for me to serve as a spy for the Vincanans so I could learn everything I could and maybe assassinate the king. The war needs to end.”

  “I don’t condone that,” she said. “I can’t. Besides, there’s a flaw in this plan if your end goal is for me to be on the throne. I know and you know that you don’t have it in you to kill Rosalynne.”

  Bjorn made a face, but he did not argue the point with her.

  “There has to be another way,” she said slowly.

  “Tell me then,” he begged. “I’ve asked and asked for a plan. Every plan I’ve come up with, you have rejected.”

  “There has to be another way,” she insisted.

  “Well, if you wish, I will start a fire, and we can cook that hare as we uncover what precisely this other way is.”

  “I suppose,” she said slowly. “You do not have any more of that poison on you, do you?”

  “No!”

  “Nor any other kind?”

  “No. Why? Do you condone poison now?”

  “Of course not!” She sighed as he started to laugh. Why did he have to be so frustrating all the time? And that remark…

  Could she forgive him?

  Could she trust him?

  Should she?

  What choice did she have?

  29

  Sir Edmund Hill

  The knight woke up, feeling quite disoriented. Edmund glanced around. This wasn’t the barracks? Where was he?

  His memories returned, and he sat up. He
was within the castle, in one of the many rooms. His right arm and shoulder felt as if it had been slammed into the ground repeatedly, as if it had been through fire, and his lungs burned as if he had stood within the flames until he had passed out.

  Would this maddening pain ever leave him?

  Edmund struggled to his feet. Although stumbling about as if he had consumed far too many mugs of ale, he managed to get himself to the mess hall. No one else was there, though, so he continued on to the kitchen. The chef eyed him but ignored him as he helped himself to a bite. As soon as he swallowed, his stomach felt as if it was a black hole within him that must be filled immediately, and he devoured the roll he had taken. Wordlessly, the chef handed him a bread bowl with steaming soup inside. His tongue burned, his mouth on fire, but he inhaled every last drop.

  His stomach still did not feel full, but Edmund felt the pain lessening enough that he thought he could make the long trek to Mermaid’s Tears. Tatum. He had to find her.

  Step after agonizing step brought him closer and closer to the shop. The streets once filled with people were all empty, and he hated the sight of the once-bustling businesses now falling into disrepair and ruin. Many of the storefronts had signs that listed them as closed. Windows had been broken, the few stories that used glass instead of flattened animal hides, and the ones with the hides had been torn down. Goods had been stolen, places ransacked.

  There was no law and order anymore. First the marketplace and now this. It had been bad before, when he had last walked this way, but Dudley’s hotel had remained a bright spot through it all.

  Even that place had been ruined. Could nothing be sacred? Had the dragons returned to destroy them all?

  Honestly, Edmund did not think he had it in him to taken down another dragon. Even if he were to have another one of those special potions, he would not be able to survive.

  Two dragons remained, but there might as well be twenty, two hundred, two thousand.

  Mermaid’s Tears had not been ransacked and appeared relatively isolated and untouched. A simple basket was turned upside down in front of the door. A small piece of parchment was stuck beneath it, and Edmund let out a groan as he bent down to retrieve it.

  Take what you need only. Leave for others please. I will be back soon.

  Tatum’s dear heart. She gave so much of herself that she had barely anything left at all for herself. If he could help her, he would, but he greatly suspected his presence would only serve to injure her further, to worsen and not abate her grief.

  Even so, he dragged himself to the house she and Dudley had shared, but likewise, she was not there.

  Where might she be? Edmund had need of her, selfish though he knew he was. She was all he ever wished for, all he could ever need, and yet, he did not think he could ever be the same for her.

  As a knight, Tenoch should be his only love, the only object of his attention, yet his thoughts turned constantly to the one woman he could never have.

  His heart aching far more than the physical wounds of his body, Edmund turned back to the castle.

  He must return to his duties.

  And he must forget all about Tatum.

  If he were able.

  30

  Alchemist Apprentice Sabine Grantham

  The hours faded away, day passing into night into day again, perhaps, but Sabine paid none of it any mind. A guard had returned to her at some point, insistent that he watch over her. Thorley Everett. He had been the same guard Rosalynne had sent over to spy on Sabine for the younger queen.

  Now, the only queen.

  Honestly, the more Sabine immersed herself in her studies, the less and less bothered she was by the lack of a crown upon her blond head.

  Even better, the guard afforded Sabine enough respect that he was willing to stand outside her door instead of inside. His hovering in the beginning had unnerved her, his breathing far too loud for her to study, but once she requested him to stand in the hall, he had complied. To her delight, he had fetched another guard to go to the library and procure her the scrolls she wished to examine, although not one of them had any of the details or tidbits of information she so desperately sought.

  If only she had another grimoire or two that she could study! She had gleaned every bit of knowledge that she could from the grimoire of Tatum’s father, but as Sabine’s wealth of knowledge grew, she also discovered more and more gaps, and she knew there was far more to be uncovered yet.

  Once more, she consulted her notes. Frozen Kiss, her potion, would work exactly as she wished for it to, but instinctively, she knew it was not ready yet to be tested. What might be missing yet? One ingredient or multiple? Should she have ground the—

  Her door burst open so violently that it collided with the wall. Unalarmed, Sabine focused on gathering the parchments that had fluttered from the forceful wind the door slamming had generated, and she pointedly ignored whoever it was that marched inside.

  “Do not ignore your queen,” the sharp voice of Vivian Rivera rang out.

  Sabine smiled to herself and maintained that curl to her lips as she carefully placed down the parchments at her vanity-turned-desk. Gracefully, acting the part of a queen’s equal, she stood and maintained Rosalynne’s gaze for a long moment, long enough for the queen to question if Sabine would curtsey before Sabine finally did complete that act of respect, although her gaze never fell to the ground.

  “My Queen,” Sabine murmured, ignoring the hateful princess entirely, “to what do I owe—”

  “You owe an explanation,” Vivian stared.

  “Sister, enough,” Rosalynne said softly, her head turning toward her sister. The two touched hands briefly, and then the queen critically appraised Sabine. Rosalynne’s dark eyes glittered harshly, her face a mask that barely concealed her contempt.

  Interesting. Rosalynne had not demonstrated this level of hatred even when Sabine had mistakenly admitted to her possible assistance in the king’s untimely demise.

  Sabine held her tongue, waiting. There was no point in speaking until she knew why the Riveras had come to bother her.

  “You owe us an explanation,” the queen said evenly.

  Sabine noted that the guard Thorley was not in the room. Intriguing.

  The alchemist apprentice sank into another curtsey. “An explanation for what?” she asked.

  “Did you finish your mother’s job?” the queen asked, her tone cold and cruel.

  Sabine blinked in surprise for two reasons—firstly, she did not know that of which Rosalynne spoke, and secondly, she had thought Rosalynne incapable of such malice. Perhaps the people of Tenoch would rue the day she had become their queen.

  “I do not know what you mean,” Sabine said honestly.

  Rosalynne clapped twice, and Thorley entered, the dog Tabes in his arms.

  Forgetting herself, Sabine stepped forward to touch the dog. He had been with her for many long hours as she had studied, and although the dog was no longer a puppy, he had stayed in her lap, enjoying her petting. He had been her one companion.

  And then, one time when Thorley had brought her a meal, supper perhaps, the dog had darted out of the room, and she had not seen him since.

  Until now.

  “Did you finish your mother’s job by killing Tabes?” Vivian asked bitterly.

  Now, Sabine understood their venom, misplaced as it was.

  Doing her best to hide her indignation, Sabine cried, “I would not! I did not!”

  “No? Perhaps you needed someone to test your potion on,” Rosalynne said, her tone cruel, cool, and aloof. “You seek to make offensive potions, ones used to fight… to battle… to kill.”

  Sabine said not a word but crossed over to the other side of her bed. On the small table there was a cage, and she brought this over. A bird fluttered about inside. It hardly sang anymore.

  “Yes, when I need to test my potion, I will give to an animal first, not a human,” Sabine said, “but I would not, could not do that to Tabes nor to any other
dog. I captured this bird for such purposes.”

  The Riveras glanced at each other, and Sabine could tell they did not believe her.

  Truth be told, Sabine did not fault them for that.

  Rosalynne turned to Thorley. “You are to remain inside her chambers whenever she is inside.”

  “Yes, My Queen.”

  “When she is to bathe…” Rosalynne paused. “Edith will be with her.”

  “You are welcome to look over my notes at any time,” Sabine offered. “I will explain everything that I am attempting. I—”

  “Do not make me regret allowing you to study this appalling branch of knowledge,” Rosalynne said stiffly. “Your mother is dead. I will not have any qualms to end the Grantham line entirely should you give me reason to.”

  “All I ask,” Sabine said, her tone sweet, almost too saccharine, “is that you have proof of such a crime if you seek to have me killed.”

  Rosalynne said nothing and swept herself out the door, but the dark haired, blue-eyed princess stepped forward.

  The princess did not wear a gown as would be fitting her station. Instead, she was dressed as the soldiers are when they train, and she even carried herself as such. It was more than a bit unnerving to see a female dressed as a man, yet Vivian appeared as comfortable as ever in such attire.

  “Do not forget the curse that all female alchemists before you have suffered,” Vivian uttered.

  Sabine smiled.

  “I can fulfill that curse for you,” the princess added, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword. Sabine hadn’t even noticed the weapon until now, but she did not react to its sight.

  Vivian stalked out the door, and Sabine merely smiled that much wider.

  31

  Princess Vivian Rivera