by Beth Alvarez
The Grand College was all but empty. The few faces she did see belonged to cleaning staff and pages rather than magelings or Masters. Magic tingled on the edge of her awareness now and then, but only fleeting impressions. Whatever mages remained in the college, they feared interlopers. For good reason, she thought; the last time a strong mage had barged into the college, Archmage Arrick died.
Kytenia looked over her shoulder as they reached their destination. The mages at her heels readied their power. Beside her, Rune nodded.
She opened the door. “Shymin Silaron.”
Across the office, a figure in white stood gazing out the window. She did not move, save the slight twist of her head to turn an ear toward them.
Unable to keep her hands from shaking, Kytenia curled them into fists at her sides. “On behalf of King Vicamros II of the Triad, I’ve come to take you into custody. As punishment for your crimes against the crown, as well as your crimes against the now defunct crown of Elenhiise, you are to be imprisoned in the Royal City. Have you anything to say?”
“Nothing you’ve not heard before,” Shymin replied quietly. “I’d heard you’d sided with them. I wish I could have made you understand.”
Kytenia scoffed. “Understand what? Why you’d condone the murder of Alda’anan mages?”
“Magic could have saved my mother. It could have restored our brother’s health. If magic weren’t such a rarity, if it weren’t weakening with every passing generation, we’d save so many lives. I never thought I’d need to explain that to you.” Shymin glanced back at them. Her eyes skirted Kytenia and drifted over Rune. “So it’s true. There was a way to cleanse it. That was always Envesi’s mistake, you know. She became so fixated on one problem that she became blind to everything else.”
Rune shook his head. “Envesi was mad. That was her problem, and there was no overcoming that.”
“She was,” Shymin agreed. “But she was also brilliant. Her death robs us of a great deal of knowledge and skill.”
“And the deaths of Arrick and the Alda’anan mages rob us of more,” Kytenia said.
“I never said I agreed with her actions. Just that I agree with her belief that magic is vital.” Shymin smiled sadly. “But I know I won’t convince you now. You may tell your mages to stand down. I won’t fight you.”
Though her sister turned to face them without wielding power and held her hands spread to show she was unarmed, Kytenia bristled. Whether or not she’d fight now was unimportant. She’d been fighting, pushing against Kytenia and their queen, helping tear their homeland apart.
Shymin spoke of needing magic to protect their family. Kytenia didn’t even know if the rest of their family was still alive. Nearly two hundred thousand refugees had been pulled from the island. It could be weeks before someone found her family among them—or didn’t. The island had been destroyed because of that magic, because of the woman Shymin chose to follow.
“Take her,” Kytenia ordered. “Bind her and shield her from magic until we return to the Royal City.”
Mages flowed out from behind her like water and swarmed over her sister.
Even as they tied her hands behind her back, Shymin leveled a look with Kytenia that was stubborn and defiant.
The struggle between them had only just begun.
27
Heroes
Sparks erupted over the Royal City with a crackling boom, drawing gasps of delight from the crowds in the courtyard.
Despite how many people packed the space behind the palace gates, the city’s streets were worse. Wild cheers echoed from beyond the walls and, as beautiful and unusual as the fireworks were, Firal was glad she’d left Lulu with Minna in the private room they’d been assigned.
She worked her way through the throng, pressing toward the open palace doors. Nobles shifted aside to let her pass. Some lifted cups and expressed gratitude. She smiled politely in return and carried on.
There had been a time when working her way through crowds of people was jarring and exhausting. Now Firal rubbed elbows with nobles, all of them drinking and carousing as if they’d had part in what the city celebrated now, and it hardly warranted a response. It was another reminder she’d grown and changed, as the world had grown and changed around her.
Past the great hall, the palace was relatively empty. Firal sighed, grateful for the space. There were a hundred vantage points in the palace that were better, including the windows in her own room. She hadn’t been eager to leave the manor again, but to refuse would have been offensive. So soon on the heels of being offered refuge and a barony, she couldn’t afford to offend the king.
Given she’d spent the evening alone, it seemed not everyone shared the sentiment.
Instead of returning to her room, Firal made her way to a private suite under the direction of the serving staff. She knocked and tested the doorknob when no answer came. The door swung open with a low creak.
The room on the other side was dark enough that for a moment, she thought she would wake its occupant. Then a crimson flash lit the room. The glass door to the balcony stood open, a dark silhouette on the other side.
Firal tip-toed to the doorway as a shower of golden sparks filled the sky.
Rune sat on the balcony with his elbows on his knees, watching the lights with a distant, weary look.
“You’re missing your party, hero,” she teased.
He started, but relaxed when he saw her. Then he gave her a half-hearted smile and settled back into position without a word.
Firal crept forward, sat beside him and settled her skirts about her legs. After a time, she stole a glance at him. The light in his eyes was so faint it vanished when she focused on it. All the feelings of concern she’d had when they’d found him beside the ruined Gate returned. “Are you all right?”
His brow furrowed. Fine lines of distress skirted the corners of his eyes. “I don’t deserve this.” The boom of another mortar served as punctuation. It burst in rays of blue and crackling silver. “I don’t deserve any of it.”
Whatever cheer she’d tried to put on faded. She focused on the last shimmering motes in the air and waited for the next burst. “Of course you do. ‘A celebration of the heroes who ended the war,’ Vicamros said. You’re...” Her throat tightened and she blinked faster. “Well, you’re the only one here to enjoy it.”
Rune bowed his head.
“Besides,” she said with a small sigh, “I thought this was what you always wanted? Recognition. A chance to make a difference.”
He shrugged. “I thought that. But after all this time, after everything that’s happened, I’m not sure I ever knew what I wanted.” He traced his namesake scar with a fingertip, then cradled his hand.
She nodded toward him. “Well, you can’t tell me you didn’t want that.”
“I’m not so sure about that, either. All this time, I...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“What?” Firal nudged his arm.
He smiled ruefully and searched her eyes. “All this time, have I only been six feet tall?”
The question was so unexpected that she laughed. “Is that what you’re upset about?”
“I’m serious!” He stretched out his legs and leaned back against his hands as he flexed his bare feet. “All my life, I’ve been walking on my toes. I never even thought about it because it was normal for me. All my life, I thought I was six-foot-three.”
“And I’m still only tall enough to reach your chin, so I hardly think you have room to complain!” She huffed and crossed her arms.
Rune laughed, and the warm tone of it was the most comforting thing she’d heard in weeks.
“Still,” he said after a moment, watching the sky. “It’s going to take some getting used to. No one ever told me shoes were so uncomfortable. And you’re wrong, by the way. It’s not just my party. I thought you’d be downstairs with Kytenia.”
Firal rolled her eyes. “Kytenia has her hands full. She’d much rather be at the college, I think, if only to a
void the dirty looks from the Royal City’s mages.”
He made a small sound of agreement in his throat. “I don’t blame her. I’ve spent enough time on their bad side, myself. It was the right decision, though. I agree with Vicamros. No one could be a better Archmage for the Grand College right now, and having Kytenia in the position will be good for relations with the evacuees.”
“Perhaps, but he could have waited a few days for people to begin to settle. As it is, I think your council fears a takeover. If Aldaan is all but abandoned, settling our people there means they’ll have an appointed leader at some point. And that means influence in the council.” She half expected it would be her, though she wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea.
Rune cocked his head, eyeing her. “Our people?”
She blinked, then flushed. “Well, it is as you said. You always were better suited to rule.”
“They never would have had me,” he murmured, his eyes returning to his hands. “I don’t think I can blame them.”
“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, but I... I understand now.” He curled his fingers into a fist. “When Envesi came to you in the throne room and I saw her, I understood. When I saw what she’d done—what she’d become—all I could feel was revulsion. Then I realized that all my life, whenever people looked at me, that was what they saw. What they felt. And then I couldn’t blame you for moving on. Looking back now, I don’t know how you ever tolerated being near me.”
“Because I loved you.” The words slipped from her mouth without a thought. She blushed. “Or I think I did.”
The corners of his mouth tightened. “Did you?”
Firal hesitated, unsure what to say. She hadn’t meant it to sound that way, as if she was trying to erase all their history. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. Apology seemed the safest route. “All I meant was... well, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I was so sure of it then, when we were young. I thought I understood you, but now I feel you’re a stranger, and...”
“And what you loved was the idea you had of me,” he finished for her.
She swallowed and nodded. “Now I look back and I realize I don’t know you. I never really did.”
He half smiled, studying the shape of his fingernails. “I’m not that complicated.”
“Sure you are. For example, I never knew until tonight that you’re self-conscious about your height.”
Rune snorted. “I’m self-conscious about a lot of things. I always hated the body I was given to live in.”
“Is that why you did things like this?” She brushed one of his earrings with a fingertip.
“I suppose so. And because Envesi hated it.” A hint of a defiant gleam shone in his eyes. “When I was young, I thought she would fix me if I pleased her. So I did as I was told, cooperated with her studies. When I hit adolescence, I realized she couldn’t do anything or she would have done it already. I started with one. Vahn had one and I was jealous. She hated it, so I added more. One at a time.”
“Vahn did not have one!”
“He did.” He grinned, playing with the silver rings in his ear. “He saw it on one of the guardsmen and did it himself. His father made him take it out.”
“That sounds just like Ennil,” Firal muttered. The thought of the man stirred the heat of anger in her chest. Silently, she willed herself to let it go. It didn’t matter anymore. Ennil was dead. “Who were you jealous of that made you get that one?” She motioned toward his chest.
Rune almost groaned. “That one was stupidity.” He rubbed the ring through his shirt. “A drunken bet when serving as part of the army. I had spells of service now and then, between travel. Part of my agreement with Vicamros I. I don’t even remember what the bet was, I was so drunk. I just remember how much it hurt, then waking up and discovering they’d soldered it shut so it couldn’t be removed.”
She clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “That’s a terrible prank.”
“Garam laughed at me for weeks. Embarrassed me to death and back.” He shook his head and dropped his hand. “It’s been a few years and I still haven’t gotten up the nerve to go have a blacksmith cut it open.”
“Well if it’s been years, you might as well leave it,” she teased. “Your wife might appreciate it. She could clip a rope to it and use it to lead you around.”
His good humor faded and Rune looked away.
Another misstep. She cursed herself as another awkward silence fell, broken only by the occasional boom of fireworks.
“Five.”
Firal blinked. “What?”
He stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. “Sera told me she spoke to you. She thought it was important I should know. You probably noticed she’s very open. She’ll discuss anything. She was the first. Then there were four more.”
The words wrapped the chains of an unexpected anchor around her heart.
As if sensing it, he went on. “Some of them, I thought I could learn to love. The others, I...” He hesitated there, then shook his head. He didn’t need to elaborate. “I’m not proud of that, but I did it, and I’ll own those actions. The point is that five times in thirty years, I tried to replace you. But I couldn’t, and some part of me knew it was wrong to even try.”
“But you did,” she said.
He nodded. “I did.”
“And yet you scorned me for moving on after a year alone.” Whether or not they’d discussed the miscommunication that kept them apart, that still stung like a fistful of nettles. Balancing that against the thought of him tumbling five other women made her sick.
“What hurt wasn’t that you moved on,” he replied, “but that you could. That you found someone you could connect with, and that you loved him so much that you were finally able to look me in the eye and tell me you hated me.”
The uncomfortable flutter in her belly turned to a low feeling of guilt. “You shouldn’t have believed me when I said that,” she muttered. “I’ve always said things I don’t mean when I’m upset.”
Fireworks crackled overhead in rapid bursts of color, the finale drawing wild cheers from the mass of people below.
Instead of taking in the dazzling lights, Rune bowed his head. “I believed you when you said that because I hate me, too.”
The sky went dark, suddenly more oppressive than ever. Firal shivered in the night and wrapped her arms around herself.
“I had one job,” he said. “One simple thing to do, and I couldn’t do it. I did everything I could to bring him back to you, and I failed.”
“You can’t hate yourself for that. Going after you was his choice, his idea.” His chance to clear his guilty conscience. Firal fought the rise of bitterness. “He was told to bring you back. He was the one who decided to ignore that order. The only one to blame is him. The only one responsible for him being gone is him!”
Rune hushed her, leaned close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She choked on tears and hugged him tight.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, stroking her hair and rocking her in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”
Burying her face in his chest, she cried herself dry while her heart rent itself between the purest grief and the sweet fulfillment of his embrace.
28
Closure
The gardens surrounding the manor had always been something of a refuge, but it was strange to watch someone else find solace in them. Rune tucked his chin, ever so slightly, and gazed out through the diamond-paned window. Vivenne pinched dead heads from flowers with a never-ending patience. In his absence, the plantings had largely been neglected. Rhyllyn had been occupied with other things, he supposed.
“You’ll have to talk to her eventually,” Alira said. He’d sensed her in the doorway, but hadn’t seen any reason to address her.
“I know.” He’d been surprised to learn Vahn’s mother had come to the estate, given that he hadn’t seen her, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been. The house was plenty large en
ough for someone to hide, and Lulu and Firal were there. The two of them had been family to Vivenne far longer than they’d been part of his life. That she’d managed to avoid coming face to face with him made him doubt she wished to speak to him, but he couldn’t imagine the alternative. It was his house. Eventually, they’d have to speak.
Alira remained in the doorway, though she said nothing else. Rune allowed the silence to drag on for some time before he turned his head enough to look at her from the corner of his eye. Evidently, that was what she’d been waiting for.
She strode into the parlor and spread her hands. “I’ve received word from Vicamros that the first of the ruin-folk have reached Aldaan. They have chosen to travel by traditional means, rather than utilizing Gates. Apparently they feel seeing the countryside will help them choose where they shall settle.”
“They won’t be sent to Aldaeon?” He’d assumed that was their destination. He’d traveled the long, winding roads through the mountains himself, though not in the summertime. Perhaps there was more worth seeing—or settling for—in warmer months.
“They have been told they may join the settlement there or establish their own, but they’ve not yet indicated which they prefer. Personally, I anticipate they’ll choose to settle closer to the mountains. Mining is all they’ve known for as long as most of them have lived. If there is good ore to be found in Aldaan, they’ll find it.”
Rune made a soft sound of agreement. Even when he’d lived among them, they’d excelled at pulling quality materials from what looked like barren rock to him. The wealth they’d pulled from the depths of Core had been a useful bargaining chip in securing food, and later, securing the alliance Ilmenhith held with the Triad. “Have they established a leader yet?”
A hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of Alira’s mouth. “Why, do you seek to reclaim your title?”