Voice of Command (The Spoken Mage Book 2)

by Melanie Cellier

  “What exactly did you think you were doing?”

  I opened my mouth, but she didn’t leave me time to answer.

  “That was foolish beyond permission. You could have caught the fever. You still might. And you’re fortunate you’ve lived long enough to even worry about that. You might have collapsed right there. And then what would have happened? With no one knowing who you were and what you’d just done.”

  She stopped for a shuddering, anger-fueled breath, and this time I didn’t even try to speak. I had never seen her like this.

  “Whatever you were thinking, it was inexcusable. You have all been entrusted to my protection, and I will not have trainees going rogue.” She fixed me with a hard stare. “If you do anything like that again—if you leave the group at all—I will put you straight into a carriage and send you back to Corrin. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you understand, Elena?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Acacia. I guess I wasn’t thinking…”

  “No. You weren’t.” She snapped the words, and I winced.

  “I just wanted to help.”

  The anger drained out of her, and she sighed. “I know you do, Elena. But please believe me when I say that the most helpful thing you can do is stay alive. And out of trouble. For now, at least. There will be time for everything else later.”

  “Will there?” I muttered, but too low for her to hear. I glanced up at her. “I can’t believe Lucas told you, though.”

  “Lucas?” She frowned at me. “What does Lucas have to do with this? Don’t tell me he was there too?” She held up a hand. “No, seriously, don’t tell me. You I can deal with—the prince, on the other hand…”

  “But then how did you know?”

  “You’re a trainee, Elena. And you just did something that healer thought impossible. She sent a messenger to me asking for answers as soon as you were gone.”

  “Oh.”

  “Lorcan is not going to be pleased,” Acacia muttered before shaking her head and turning for the door.

  She paused in the doorway. “I like you, Elena. I really do. For reasons I can’t always fathom given you cause me more work than any other trainee. But don’t think I’m not serious. You put another toe out of line, and I’ll send you back.”

  “I won’t. Honestly, Acacia. I’ll be good, I promise.”

  Acacia laughed, the sound low and strained. “Good? It’s not really about goodness, is it?” And then she was gone.

  Somehow my friends had caught wind of what happened, and they demanded a full account of my escapade. Coralie seemed torn between approval and disapproval while Finnian, although impressed with my act of rebellion, shook his head over the risk I’d taken with the open composition. Edmond seemed mostly fascinated by the account of my ability in action.

  Jasper, on the other hand, wasn’t in the least torn in his response. He was as livid as Acacia and stopped speaking to me for a week. Since he combined this treatment with regularly pressing his hand against my forehead to check for a temperature, I had to use every scrap of my mostly non-existent patience to put up with it. I figured I deserved it, though, for scaring him so badly.

  Jasper made two people who weren’t speaking to me. But in Lucas’s case, it was a relief. He might not have been the one to sell me out to Acacia, but that didn’t mean I needed any more anger or condescension directed toward me right now.

  The days passed, and I tried to suppress my chafing in each morning session when the others all spent time and energy crafting healing compositions. It was valuable work, whether or not I could participate. And Finnian and I had been right about its value as an exercise in stamina. Weston and Calix had stopped pretending they could manage only two of the compositions per morning—not wanting to appear weak, no doubt—and even Araminta had managed to increase her production levels.

  The afternoons we all spent observing Beatrice, visiting the tents, or completing assignments on healing theory and epidemic management in the campus library. When we made our official visits to the healing tents—some of them far larger than the one I had stumbled on—Acacia stuck to my side like glue, glaring at me if I so much as opened my mouth.

  So I had to content myself with sending dirty looks at Finnian who was clearly amused by my situation. But even he always left these visits with a depressed air, and I noticed that while Natalya and Lavinia looked disgusted at being there, they refrained from any offensive comments—to me or anyone else.

  Unlike the University mage in the supply tent, the healers I saw looked universally strained, exhausted, and grieved. How could they not be when they spent each day in such an environment, knowing their resources were far too few to do what needed to be done? My admiration for the healing discipline grew, and I couldn’t help mourning the impossible dream that I might one day join them. Even if they did leave all the least desirable tasks to the commonborn nurses, at least they seemed to care.

  Midwinter approached. I received a beautiful invitation to a Midwinter celebration at Coralie’s home and was glad to see my friend brighten a little at the prospect of hosting. She did apologize to me, though, once the invitations had gone out.

  “My parents were so excited to invite the prince to our home, that I couldn’t say no. But since he’s not exactly a particular friend of ours, inviting him meant inviting the whole year.” She grimaced before perking up. “I invited the University students, too, of course, so at least we should outnumber them.”

  I assured her I was excited to visit her home regardless of the company and even assured her I would let her pick a dress for me to borrow. I half expected all the trainees except our friends to decline the invitation, but she told me the next day that Lucas had already accepted. And the others soon followed.

  We were to have two days off over Midwinter, as we had the year before, so I was pleased to have an activity to fill the otherwise empty days. But I still wished there was something useful I could do to actually help.

  On the last day before Midwinter, we visited the largest of the healing tents. And for the first time, I actually saw empty beds. Not many, but the sight still caught my eye.

  “Do you think we’re past the worst of it, then?” I asked the healer in charge of the tent, in defiance of Acacia’s narrowed eyes at the sound of my voice.

  “Our forecasters think we should hit the peak of the epidemic soon,” she said. “So we’re nearly there but not quite.”

  “But the empty beds?”

  She actually smiled, a sight I wasn’t used to inside these tents. “With so many new compositions coming in, we’ve managed to increase our rate of first stage healings.”

  When I gave her a blank look, she shook her head.

  “I suppose you all didn’t hear about the request since you were already here helping.”

  “Request?” I glanced at Acacia, but she remained silent.

  “The crown sent out an official request to all non-healing mages in the kingdom. Everyone with the capacity and inclination was requested to start producing compositions to heal fever, muscle aches, and nausea. Just one per day, or whatever they feel comfortable doing. Many have ignored the request, of course, since their energy is valuable, but some have responded. Enough to make a difference.” She smiled again. “Fast messengers are traveling throughout the kingdom on regular routes to collect them and bring them here.”

  “That’s…that’s excellent.”

  She nodded. “It’s wonderful seeing the disciplines supporting one another in such a way.”

  My brow twitched, but I kept my expression neutral. Of course she saw it as mages supporting mages and not as support for the commonborn victims. And she was most likely right. But it didn’t matter why they were doing it, the important thing was that they were.

  A raised voice called to her from the other side of the tent, and she disappeared off down the rows of stretchers.

  “It came from your idea, Elena,” said Acacia quietly. “With the train
ees.”

  “Thank you for passing it on.” I beamed at her. “And I don’t in the least mind if you took the credit. In fact, I hope you did. It was more likely to win support that way.”

  She shook her head, looking a little guilty. “It wasn’t me. To be honest, the thought didn’t occur to me, although I can’t imagine I would have had the sway anyway.”

  My eyes crossed to Finnian. Had he written to his father?

  Acacia followed my gaze, but must have misinterpreted the target of it since Finnian stood talking to Lucas and Calix.

  “Yes, it was the prince. He wrote to his father, apparently.”

  As if he could hear us, although the distance made that impossible, Lucas looked up just at that moment and met my gaze. For what felt like the longest moment, we remained like that, eyes locked. Then Finnian spoke, and Lucas looked away.

  I tried to settle my thoughts, but they churned with too much confusion. Lucas had actually liked my idea? Had acted on it? He was the cause of these empty beds?

  I shook my head. Would I ever work him out?

  Chapter 13

  Lucas still didn’t approach me, and in the midst of Midwinter preparations, I had no opportunity to approach him. Coralie had invited me to spend the night before and after Midwinter at her house, and I had eagerly accepted.

  Their house turned out to be a large and comfortable building on the outskirts of town with a generous garden and high fence surrounding it. While it was neither as large nor as lavishly appointed as the mansions of the great families in Corrin, it was still far larger than any home in Kingslee, and larger than the majority of the ones I had seen in Abalene.

  “A branch of the Callinos family live in Abalene, and another of the Ellingtons,” Coralie told me. “That’s Acacia’s branch. They have bigger homes, of course. No doubt they would have seized the opportunity to host a Midwinter celebration themselves with Lucas in town, except they all fled Abalene at the first hint of this new green fever spreading here.”

  “Which leaves the honor to us,” said her mother, with a slight frown at her daughter’s chatter. “And we are most pleased to have the opportunity.”

  I wanted to thank her for staying, as well as for contributing daily compositions, which Coralie had admitted when I asked her. But the thought sounded ridiculous—they weren’t doing any of it for me. So instead I made do with thanking them for having me, and complimenting every arrangement they had made for the party.

  Midwinter breakfast with Coralie’s family was accompanied by an exchange of gifts that embarrassed me since Coralie gave me an elegant evening gown, and I had only a small wooden flower for her. Jasper had helped me carve it, and Coralie assured me that she loved the gift, and that the dress was an old one of hers, so it didn’t really count as a proper gift anyway.

  We were decorating for the party at that stage, busy converting a large receiving room into a ballroom that would be sufficient for the size of the event, although small compared to the Corrin mansions, let alone the scale of the palace.

  “I keep growing, so half my old stuff doesn’t fit me anyway,” she told me as we hung garlands and arranged flowers. “And it will look better on you than it ever did on me.”

  Her words did make me feel a little better, and decorating turned out to be more fun than I had anticipated. It helped that there were actually flowers—an unusual thing for Midwinter. The sight of them gave me a pang, given the other results of the unseasonable weather, but I decided not to think about it. The flowers hadn’t caused the epidemic and refusing to enjoy their beauty would do nothing to help fix it either.

  Many of the trees and plants down south remained green all year round according to Coralie, so the flowers were interspersed with lush green garlands and arrangements.

  The Cygnets didn’t have their own colors, so Coralie’s mother had decided on a red and green theme, with elements of both gold and silver woven in.

  “To honor Lucas’s presence,” Coralie told me, “but without looking like we’re pretending we’re something we’re not.”

  The reminder that Lucas would be here soon made me dive back into my flower arrangement, effectively hiding my face. Two days ago I would have been irritated and resolved to avoid him, but I didn’t know what to think now. At the very least I would have to seek him out to thank him for sending my suggestion to his father. The thought made me exquisitely uncomfortable.

  Somehow the day melted away, and Coralie and I were soon dressing for the evening in her large bedchamber. A maid helped us button up our gowns and arrange our hair on top of our heads. Gazing into her long mirror, I hardly recognized myself, I felt so elegant. The sight gave me a boost of confidence—much appreciated considering the ordeal before me.

  At first I had thought the very small number of servants at Coralie’s house was caused by a reduction in their numbers due to illness. But when I raised it sadly with Coralie, she assured me it wasn’t the case.

  “You’re getting us confused with one of the great families,” she had said with a cheerful grin. “We’ve actually hired three extra servants to help over Midwinter because of the party preparations. Thankfully they were more than happy to take up the positions on minimal wages, because my parents and both my aunts have been working together to supply our servants with protection from insect bites, just like the family members.”

  Several members of Coralie’s extended family shared the home, including her grandparents, a single aunt, and the widow of the eccentric uncle she had once told me about.

  Arthur, her younger brother, was clearly ridiculously excited about the upcoming celebration, and equally clearly trying to hide it and act calm. At least the act meant he had refrained from asking me to compose for him.

  He still got his wish, however, because I asked Coralie to let me renew the insect protection on the servants and on her family to save her parents’ energy for one round of compositions at least. I had been doing my own ever since the first compositions were handed out to the trainees—once Acacia had observed me and reassured herself my working had sufficient power and control, of course. It was the one thing I could actually usefully do.

  So since I had plenty of practice, it had occurred to me as a way I could pay back some measure of Coralie’s family’s hospitality. And when the inhabitants of the house all filtered through the makeshift ballroom Midwinter morning to receive their protection, I noticed Arthur managed to linger for most of the workings.

  “Sorry about him,” muttered Coralie, but I just shrugged and smiled.

  Secretly I rather liked his youthful enthusiasm. He might be several years older than Clemmy, but it reminded me somehow of my younger sister. I imagined she would be just the same in similar circumstances.

  No doubt my family would be feeling Jasper’s and my absence this Midwinter, but I knew they wouldn’t begrudge it if they knew where we were and why. And I hoped that the joy of a winter free from Clemmy’s usual run of illness was going a small way toward making up for their quieter holiday. Plus Jasper, at least, should have the chance to visit them after we returned and let them know where we had been.

  The maid who helped with our hair was one of the few on their normal staff, and from the way she giggled and commented freely to Coralie, I got the impression there was something almost like friendship between them. Hardly surprising since the girl had apparently worked for Coralie’s family since the age of ten and was a similar age to us. I suspected it explained something of why Coralie had been the most open to my presence at the Academy from the beginning.

  A handful of other local mage families had been invited, along with the whole contingent visiting from the Academy and University, so we filled out the available space comfortably. A group of local commonborn musicians had been hired for the evening, along with extra servers. I overheard Arthur talking about how they had all been paid with stacks of compositions to repel insects. I couldn’t imagine Coralie’s family would be wanting their illustrious guests to
know as much, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone. It just made me glad I had helped out with everyone at the house that morning.

  The dress Coralie had given me was gold, and I had experienced a brief pang of uncertainty when I slipped it on. It fit beautifully, but could I really attend wearing one of the royal colors? But another moment’s reflection alleviated my fears. The tight bodice and full skirt were gold, it was true, but the highlights were in green, with creeping tendrils that looked like vines snaking up the sleeves and along the hems. It somehow not only brought out the green in my otherwise hazel eyes, but also made them look as though they sparkled with flashes of gold.

  And, in truth, once it was on, I didn’t know if I could have brought myself to take it back off. Coralie and the maid were both full of praises, and Coralie herself looked elegant and sophisticated in a wine red gown with accents of silver. She had clearly chosen both dresses to complement the color scheme of the party, and I only hoped none of the trainees said anything to shame her or her family. There was certainly no cause for shame that I could see.

  To my relief, it seemed that the rules of hospitality overrode Natalya’s usual petty feelings, and I heard nothing but a hint of gracious condescension from her upon her arrival. Perhaps she secretly enjoyed playing the great lady among lesser families when she had no other offer forthcoming.

  Lucas I didn’t see arrive, but he easily stood out among the crowd. He wore the same formal red uniform that he had worn at the Midwinter celebration at the palace the year before, complete with gold sash, tall black boots, and simple gold circlet. The same celebration that had marked his eighteenth birthday.

  He should have looked out of place here, but his air of confidence carried it off. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I thought his face looked more relaxed at this event than he had the previous year—less of his stiff court mask in evidence. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but I wondered now if he actually enjoyed his birthday celebrations back at the palace. Was it possible he was truly happier here?