by Beth Alvarez
Kytenia fixed her skirts and smoothed her hair, stealing a glance at her reflection in the plate glass of a shop window before she ducked inside. Sharing the dinner hall wasn't all inconvenience, at least. There were some advantages to sharing tables with the king's men. She’d been excited to spend time with Vahn after the letters he'd left when he departed the temple, and she was relieved it had been easy to find the opportunity. He sat in the same place every day, though today her friends had beaten her to joining him. Rikka sat beside him, Marreli across the table. Shymin rarely joined them, but she'd been busy running errands for the Masters, so Kytenia understood.
“Starting without me today?” She planted her hands on her hips and gave the three of them a stern look.
Marreli patted the bench beside her. “Rikka and I just finished, and Vahn just got here. Sit down, I'll go get you a plate.”
“Thank you. Oh, and get an extra sweetroll if they have them today!” Kytenia called as the gray mageling disappeared.
Vahn leaned forward to offer the sugar-frosted roll from his plate. “To hold you over?” He grinned.
Kytenia took it with a coy smile. The sparkle in his eyes made her cheeks heat.
Rikka looked between the two of them and made a sound of amusement. “I'll go help Marreli. She almost dropped her tray walking through the crowd earlier.” She got up before anyone could protest.
Vahn glanced after her and stuffed something in his mouth. His shoulders lifted in an exaggerated shrug. “Guess we're alone now,” he mused. There was a hint of something in his voice Kytenia couldn't put a finger on, but his expression was sly.
She tore off a piece of her roll and gave him a suspicious look. “Did you tell them to leave?”
“Of course not! I just suggested it might be nice to speak to you alone, if you were to show up.”
She blushed. They'd eaten with him often since his return to Ilmenhith, though at first it was just so he could teach them about the city. But it hadn't taken long for all of them to speak of him as a friend, and with his bright smiles and playful demeanor, this wasn't the first time she found herself blushing over him. He seemed to have that effect on all of them. “What would Firal think if she knew?”
He raised a brow. “I don't know. Why?”
She pursed her lips. Gentle probing hadn't worked in the past. She didn't know why she'd bothered to try again. “With how much time you two spent together in the temple, I thought maybe you were close.”
Vahn shrugged again. “Thought I ought to help her, since she was a friend of Ran's. Thought that made her a friend of mine, too, but Ran didn't seem to like the idea.”
There had been rumors about that in the temple, something about Ran and Vahn fighting over a girl before a Master stepped in. Kytenia hadn't thought much of the story true, but the way Vahn shifted when he spoke made her reconsider. She chewed her sweetroll thoughtfully. “He liked her, didn't he?”
“Oh, he was crazy about her. There were always girls in Ilmenhith who made eyes at him, but I don't know that he even noticed them chasing his boots. It was always Firal this, Firal that. I thought he needed some prodding to get him to move, but he didn’t like that, either.”
Kytenia made herself smile. She'd always known she had little chance with Ran. Whatever glimmer of hope she'd held faded after she'd heard he was made a Master. “Did you like her?”
Vahn blinked. “No,” he said after a time. It wasn't hesitance, exactly. He seemed more surprised that she'd asked. “Not like that.”
She wet her lips with her tongue. “What about me?”
He gave her a startled look, though the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk, a sparkle in his eyes.
Kytenia jumped when Marreli put a plate of food in front of her, yielding a strange look from the younger girl and a calculating frown from Rikka.
“I couldn't get you a second sweetroll,” Marreli said, glancing between Kytenia and Vahn, “but it looks like you got one already.”
“Should we leave you alone?” Rikka didn't sound unhappy, but she didn't look impressed. Belatedly, Kytenia recalled Rikka at Vahn's side and wondered if she'd missed an undercurrent. Rikka was rather fond of men, after all, and she would have to be blind to miss the way Vahn flirted with everyone.
Vahn's voice drew Kytenia's attention. “It's always nice to visit with you girls. You don't have to go anywhere.”
“Oh, but we haven't got a reason to stay. We've already eaten. Besides, I haven't had a chance to see what the builders are doing today.” Marreli twisted one of her dark braids with both hands, her face taking the sweet, dreamy look it did whenever her imagination was at play. “Won't you go with me, Rikka? I hate to go alone, I'm always afraid I'll be run over in the street.”
“You probably would, walking around with your head in the clouds all the time.” Rikka mustered a smile. “All right, we'll go. I'll see you back in our room tonight, Kyt.”
Kytenia's forced smile faded as soon as her friends slipped away. She bit her lower lip and turned back to her food.
“She's sweet,” Vahn said.
“Marreli?”
“Rikka.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and reached for his mug. The dishes were plain earthenware, functional but rough, though Kytenia supposed soldiers had no need for anything fancier. “She's feisty, but so nice to Marreli. Even though she's a good few years older, isn't she?”
“She is, but I think that's why they get along,” Kytenia said. “She and Rikka are childhood friends, but really, Marreli is like a younger sister to all of us. I think she'll be lost if Rikka ever finds the husband she's after.”
Vahn squinted at his water and then gave her a weighted look. “I think she has a little growing up to do before that happens. I like girls who are more mature. Like you.”
Color rose in her cheeks again. His tone was playful, like always, but his expression was so serious she didn't know whether he was teasing or not. “Firal's a lot more mature than I am.”
“Ran's a lot more mature than I am, too. They must be a good match.” His expression didn't change. She looked away.
“It's strange,” she murmured, picking pieces from her half-eaten sweetroll. “When we were growing up, Firal always said she felt like she was second to me. But she's smarter than I am. More serious, more adult, more talented, more liked by the Masters. I never told her, but I think she had it backwards. She doesn't think much of herself, but I'm the one who's always come second.”
Vahn laughed and leaned against the table. “How do you think I felt growing up with Ran?”
Sheepish, she ducked her eyes with a smile. “I guess you understand, don't you?”
“Better than you could imagine. No one gives the prince's best friend a second glance.”
Kytenia's mouth dropped open. “The what?”
His face fell. “Firal didn't tell you?”
“You mean she knew?” she cried.
“Ah, I thought she would have...” Vahn trailed off with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forget I said anything. He'd wring my neck if he heard I was blabbing his secrets. I just thought that with how close you and Firal were...”
Her head spun with the revelation—and disappointment Firal had kept it from her. “I would have thought so, too,” she murmured. The prince. A thousand mysteries collided in her head and resolved in a moment, leaving her dazed.
“In any case,” Vahn said, settling back into that casually cheerful tone as if he weren't changing the subject, “I know just what you mean about playing second. But I promise you, Kytenia, you'll never be second to me.”
Her heart skipped a beat and, startled, she met his eyes. There was honesty in his gaze, and just a hint of shy uncertainty. Her lips drew into a smile. It was as good as any admission she could have hoped for. Maybe better, with the earnest timidity in his gaze. She thought he wanted an answer, but her tongue wouldn't move. She let her smile speak for her.
She believed it.
&nb
sp; 19
Truth
A shadow at the window made Nondar look up from his work. He rubbed his forehead and adjusted his spectacles as the crow settled on the ledge, cawing and batting its wings in a way he dared say was impatient. Grumbling beneath his breath, he pushed himself up from the desk he'd occupied for hours and hobbled to the window to claim the note in the tube fastened to the animal's leg. He never had cared for the use of corvids as messengers. It wasn't that he believed in omens, but the creatures were terribly unpleasant to find in one's room.
The color of the seal on the thin roll of paper indicated no need for response. His hands trembled as he waved the bird away, reminding him again of how frail he'd become. Grumbling over that as well, he crept back to his chair and sat down to cut open the seal and read.
The child has been found. Notify the king at once.
E.
Nondar sighed as he let the paper drop to the mound of others on the desk before him. If Edagan had heard, there was no longer any way for him to keep it secret. Had she or Anaide discovered he was aware of where the king's child had been, they might have flayed him for not sharing the knowledge. Twisting his narrow white beard, the old half-blood leaned back in his chair.
His party hadn't been in Wethertree for long, certainly not long enough to make any real progress. They'd started by riding along the northern coast, sending mages from their various stations back to the major cities. From the chapter house in Wethertree and those in the other large settlements, they could be Gated back to the capital.
The mages at the chapter house in Wethertree kept excellent records of where more mages were posted. If they hadn’t defected, that was. Most of the mages listed in the records were Masters, though there was a handful of magelings who served as apprentices or assistants. They had kept track of several wild mages as well, which surprised Nondar considerably. He'd gone over that list at least a dozen times before he decided to send a notice to each of them, asking they report to the new headquarters in Ilmenhith. All but one.
He'd been stunned to see Lumia's name on the list; it was one he'd not read or heard spoken in years. Why the mages here had chosen to keep track of her, he didn't know, though listing her with wild mages had been clever. The Archmage cared little for wildlings and claimed they had no real potential. With her name on that list, the Archmage would never have known Lumia was still being watched.
“And now I'm to send the king straight to you,” Nondar murmured thoughtfully, giving his beard another twist before he reached for his cane. It was better not to waste time. After that note, he knew Edagan would be watching.
Wethertree was a pleasant city, if a stark contrast to the tall structures of Ilmenhith. Nondar had always enjoyed visiting, though it had been a while since he'd last stayed for any real amount of time. The second-largest city in the western territory, Wethertree sprawled like an unkempt hedge. The squat shops and houses were built of weathered gray wood, some with dark wooden shingles still visible, others covered almost entirely with vines.
The city sat in the midst of sparse woods, though thick tropical forest grew just a little farther south. The residents hadn't bothered to cut down any trees, opting to let the city grow around them instead. Neat cobblestone streets wound their way between the buildings, interrupted here and there by tall trees with stone rings at their bases.
The mossy avenues were all but empty this early in the day, most village folk already at work in the forests to the south. It was well there was no one else about. It made it easier to find the cluster of armed guards he was looking for, their group visible from the doorway of the chapter house. They lounged outside the door of the inn, its roof gray with lichen and just brushing the branches of the trees overhead. Nondar had not been pleased with Kifel's choice to stay there, but with a cluster of mages and soldiers surrounding him, it was unlikely the king would encounter trouble. Still, the old Master would have felt better if Kifel had agreed to stay in the chapter house, as was customary. At least there he could ward against prying eyes.
A few of the soldiers regarded Nondar with disinterested glances as they moved aside to let him through the door. None of them offered to help him, however, and he grumbled as he hobbled inside. “You really ought to teach your boys some manners.” He raised his voice over the murmurs of the few mages that clustered in the corner. Their group grew quiet.
Kifel sat at his own table, a guard over either shoulder, but no one sat with him. Maps covered the tabletop, all of them marked with colors. The king set aside a piece of chalk and rubbed his chin, leaving smudges of blue. He didn't look up from the maps. “I tried that with Lomithrandel. You can see how well it worked.”
Nondar settled on the bench across the table from the king and studied the maps with a neutral expression. Each outpost had been circled in black ink. Different colored chalk marks beside them indicated whether or not they'd received a response to their recall orders. He wasn't certain what all of the colors meant, but the number of red marks made him frown.
It had been a distant hope that all the mages they sought would side with them. While the response had been more favorable than Nondar expected, at least a third of those they spoke to packed their things in the night and departed for Alwhen before they could be imprisoned. He couldn't fault them for their loyalty to the Archmage, though he etched the face of each mage that turned against them into his memory. He would see them again, he was sure, and not likely on good terms.
“Sire,” Nondar said, still gripping his cane as though he needed the support. “I received a crow only moments ago. Master Edagan has located your child.”
Kifel reached for another piece of chalk. “Where?” No doubt the king assumed he meant Lomithrandel. The boy had been missing for weeks. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear for a few days here and there, but he'd vanished just as the temple fractured, now almost a month prior. The king would not admit it, but the Masters saw how it tore at his heart.
Nondar hesitated. “I would speak to you of this matter in private, if possible.”
One by one, more red marks shaded the maps. “Spit it out, Nondar. There's no one here who can't keep secrets.”
The Master pursed his lips. “She currently resides in the underground portion of the ruins. I believe you will find your son there, as well.”
The king's chalk stopped mid-stroke as he looked up, his eyes weighing on the mage in front of him. Obviously, he wasn't quite sure what he'd heard. “What?”
“There are many things the Archmage thought to hide, my king,” Nondar said.
Kifel's brow furrowed, his voice dropping so the other mages could not hear. “What have you kept from me, all these years?”
“A daughter.” Nondar leaned against the table. “I have kept her safe, to the best of my ability. She knows not of her parentage. Your wife laid no claim to the child after she was born, obsessed with her experiments and convolutions of magic. We thought it best that she did not know. Every child wants to feel loved by their mother. It would have been cruel.”
Kifel squeezed his eyes closed and his face twisted with pain. “Then, my son?”
“If there was ever a doubt, we would have told you. I was there when he was born, sire. You have always known Lomithrandel was not your child. I know you accepted my word as I gave it, no matter what Envesi told you.” Nondar's shoulders sagged along with his thick eyebrows. “That you chose to raise him despite that always was admirable.”
“Who is she?” Kifel asked.
The old Master eyed him. “I suspect you already know.”
The king bowed his head and released the piece of chalk he'd held in a white-knuckled grip. “Does Ran know?”
“He does not,” Nondar replied. It was strange to see his king struggle with emotion. He struggled with it himself, fighting to keep the knot in his stomach, lest it come up with his morning meal. “We thought that best, as well. He always was charmed by the girl. Imagine the jealousy it would have spawned between the
m. Him knowing he could never replace a blood child, her knowing you raised a foundling in her place.”
Kifel clasped his hands together and rested his brow against them. “How many know?”
“Anaide, Edagan, the Archmage Envesi, Melora, and myself.” Nondar paused and then added, “And one other, long excommunicated from the temple. It's possible she chose to harbor the girl for that reason, to keep her from returning to Ilmenhith. To keep her from you.”
A long, quiet moment passed before Kifel nodded again. He pushed himself up and took his sword from where it rested against the table. He strapped it to his side in silence, but his fingers shook.
Nondar frowned. “Sire?”
Kifel motioned for him to remain seated. “Stay in Wethertree, continue to speak to the mages that answer their summons. Screen them without me. I trust your judgment. You have enough mages present to open a Gate?”
“Yes, sire, but—” Nondar started, silenced by a gesture from the king.
“Good. I will not need your assistance.” A steely look set itself in Kifel's eyes as he strode out the door with his entourage of guards on his heels.
Nondar bowed his head and exhaled deeply. Not for the first time, he questioned the wisdom of his fellow mages.
“And you are positive that is what the message said?” Envesi pressed, scrutinizing the mageling that stood before her desk.
The girl kept her head bowed, perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of fear. “Yes, Archmage. Master Edagan herself asked me to deliver it to the aviary.”
“You must be quite good at opening seals without being noticed,” the Archmage said, leaning back in her chair.
The mageling twitched. “I am not, Archmage. I took some of the colored wax from Edagan's desk when I was cleaning. None of the Masters in Ilmenhith use signets or crests any longer, just colors. I softened and peeled the old wax and resealed it with new.”