“Not by me.”
Elena met my cool stare without blinking. “Why not?” I started to move away but she held me firmly in place. “I don’t want to interfere.”
“Then don’t. Listen, Elena,” I said hotly, “I know you mean well. But you had a father who loved you and raised you. Everyone makes me the villain. But I’m not the one who ignored him for twenty-five years.” Getting to my feet, I broke free of her grasp and walked toward the cottage, poking through the ashes to hide my tears. Kicking aside the remains of the bed’s headboard, I shoved my fists under my arms and hugged myself, furious and confused.
“You’re not the villain.” Elena came up quietly beside me. “But don’t you see? For us, the simple answer is for you to confront Sernyn, forgive him, and get on with your life. Easy, I know, for us to say, but truly, we just want to ease your grief.”
“Did any of you stop to think that he’d never be concerned about my forgiveness if I hadn’t caught him off guard last year?”
“He didn’t have to come himself when you arrived, looking for your family,” she countered, “but he did.”
“His mistake.”
With a subtle change in expression, Elena brushed soot from her sleeve. “All right, I won’t argue with you. I only wanted to help. That’s what friends are supposed to do.”
“Well, then. If that’s true,” —I crossed my arms with a smirk— “make yourself useful and find my riches buried under all these ashes.”
* * * *
“Riches?” Jules smiled with delight when I decided to confront him after all. “Of course. The queen’s courageous Mage Champion is swimming in riches. After all, you saved the throne, and Elena could do no less than grant you uncounted treasure.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Indeed, I am. And that’s not all.”
“Spare me.”
“Oh, no. Let’s see. Because your powers are so different from every other known mage, it’s possible you’ve been raised by a mountain lion or born under Shad’s Bay in a seabeast’s cave or flew through the air and—”
“Oh, please,” I said in disgust, tracing the covers of the books stacked along the shelves in his study. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“Fame has its negative aspect,” Jules said wisely, leaning back in a rather precarious position, hands behind his head. I turned to leave when my eyes caught sight of the wooden chair he was lounging so very comfortably in. “Don’t you dare.” He sat forward so fast he almost toppled over. “I’ve finally gotten this chair worn and smooth just how I like it. Go play mage and turn someone else’s chair into a puddle of water.”
“You’re so dull.” I headed for the door, stopped when he called my name, and turned, gritting my teeth against whatever obnoxious comment he was about to make.
“Just precisely where do you keep your riches?”
I slammed the door with a resounding bang and practically knocked poor Brendan across the length of the corridor. With impeccable tact, he schooled his surprised face to politeness. “Waiting for me?” I appraised him from head to toe like a schoolmistress who discovered one of her charges up to no good.
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact.”
“I see.” I crossed my arms and studied his dark blue eyes. “How did you know I was in there?”
“Alex, I’m sorry.” He lost his composure and flushed bright red, trying hard not to laugh. “But when you and Jules, ah, discuss things with, ah, enthusiasm, you’re both a bit loud. Not that loud,” he added.
“But loud enough.” When the young man nodded with mock gravity, I started to laugh, as did he. “Well, what is it? Have the twin monsters tricked you again?”
His eyes turned serious. “Martin’s back.”
“Well, let’s go find Anders and Rosanna. I wouldn’t be surprised to find them plotting together in the old seawitch’s tower. We’ll try there first.”
Brendan smiled as we climbed the stairways to the highest floor. “I’m glad Elena’s gone back to Ardenna. I’d feel horrid sneaking behind her back if she were here.”
“You’ll get used to it. Everyone sneaks around everyone else’s back.” At Rosanna’s door, I knocked loudly. “Take these two, for instance.” Brendan laughed aloud as Anders opened the door.
“What are you two plotting?” Anders narrowed his eyes to slits as we walked past him, taking comfortable seats by the blazing fireplace.
“The question should be, what are you and” —I nodded at Rosanna, enthroned in her rocking chair— “‘the old seawitch plotting?”
“Not a thing,” Rosanna’s tone was bland.
I turned back to Brendan. “See what I mean?”
“Yes.” Dark blue eyes danced in appreciation, and then subtly changed as I nodded for him to explain our visit. “I’m not sure it’s much help.” Brendan stared at his hands. “Martin’s back from Barrow’s Pass. All he was able to find out was that Erich had several clandestine meetings late at night with unknown mages. And another one in two weeks.”
“Probably the Barrow’s Pass Council of Mages,” Anders’s tone was thoughtful. “Jules meets with the Port Alain Council, doesn’t he?”
“In the middle of the night?” Rosanna arched a curious brow in his direction. For once, I was glad her suspicions matched mine.
“Maybe customs are different in Barrow’s Pass.”
“Why are you so determined to prove Erich innocent?” I demanded, fiddling with my boot rather than stare daggers at Anders.
“I’m not.” When I glanced up, cool seagray eyes narrowed in disapproval. “But you’re scrambling to put facts together to prove he’s guilty. Someone should be objective. And we all know it can’t be you.”
“He doesn’t look at you the way he looks at me,” I snapped, remembering the danger in Erich’s eyes.
“I should hope not.”
“Anders does have a point,” Rosanna interceded quietly.
“And,” —Anders uncrossed his legs and stretched— “I also have an idea. Since Martin couldn’t get closer, but did learn that their next meeting is scheduled in two weeks, which explains why Erich needs to be there, why don’t you and I take a journey to Barrow’s Pass ourselves?”
“That’s a possibility.” I turned back to Brendan, thinking. “Did Martin travel through Ardenna?”
“Yes, and then through the section of the Arditch Mountains that runs north of the city to Barrow’s Pass.”
“It’s a good thing it’s not winter.” I turned to Anders but stopped at the curious look in his eyes. “What?”
“It’s too obvious to go that way. Besides, that wasn’t my plan.” When my suspicion became evident, he composed his expression to unconvincing innocence. “We could bypass Ardenna and confuse any potential pursuers. If we go around the east route, we’ll end up in boggy Thornmarsh. So—” He coughed with exquisite delicacy, sending a sidelong glance in Rosanna’s direction. “The west route was my, ah, plan. To Glynnswood.”
I scrambled to my feet.
“And through Glynnswood.”
I scurried to the door, ignoring Brendan’s curious stare, and Rosanna’s anxious expression.
“To bypass Ardenna and come around Barrow’s Pass from the west.” Anders caught my tunic as I reached the door.
“No.”
“It’s the only way.”
“I’ll go through Ardenna.”
“The Mage Champion is immediately recognizable. As I recall, that fact made you uncomfortable on our last visit. And disguise won’t work,” Anders countered when he recognized the idea leap into my eyes. “If Erich is behind all this, he’ll be watching you. With a Glynnswood guide to sneak us through—”
“Absolutely, positively not.” I plucked the edge of my tunic from his grip and stormed out. I was never going to Glynnswood again.
Or near it.
Or anywhere in that general direction.
Never.
I’d rather tangle with a ravenous seabeast.
Chapter Eight
“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Hmmm.” We’d ridden at an easy pace north along the Kieren River to the crossroads that led west to Glynnswood, but I was weary and not very confident as we stopped for the night. “You’re sure Sernyn Keltie’s not going to show up?” I asked for the hundredth time. Anders cocked his head to the side and sent me a pained expression. “I want to be sure. I don’t trust you any more than I trust Rosanna or Elena. You’re all deceitful, manipulative, and interfering. I could go on all day describing your faults.” I tossed my bedroll to the ground, raising a cloud of dirt that set Anders coughing.
“Alex, really. Be civilized, will you?” Setting his own bedroll beside mine, he unrolled it with neat, precise movements. “I suggested with great delicacy that Sernyn send another guide. He reassured me he’d never consider putting you in an awkward position. I also mentioned your suspicions regarding the arrows,” he added blandly, “without making you sound like an unhinged, narrow-minded idiot.”
“I suppose I should be grateful.”
“Yes, you should.” With a muffled yawn, he crawled into his bedroll. “He said he’d keep watch for signs of suspicious activity.”
“Do you believe him?” I knelt on my own bedroll, stretching it out to its full length, one wary eye on Anders.
“Go to sleep.” He tucked himself under the covers and turned his back on me.
“Anders—”
“Rosanna was right.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
* * * *
A sharp, annoying nudge kept penetrating my grogginess. “Go away. It’s too early. I haven’t had enough sleep.”
“I know,” Anders whispered, tickling my ear with his warm breath. “But I think our guide’s arrived.”
“Lords of the sea, it’s too damn early.” I rolled over on one side and leaned up on my elbow. And stared, unsure what my reaction should be.
“Your pardon. I did not mean to wake you.” Our guide sat on the other side of our nonexistent campfire, legs crossed beneath him, a curious look in very young eyes.
“That’s all right.” I sat up with unfeigned stiffness, prodding Anders into a sitting position. If I had to be up and about, so did he. “I think.”
“I really am a very good guide. When—” Gwynn, because, of course, it was Gwynn who was our guide, flushed scarlet. “When I heard you requested a scout from my people, I asked permission to help you in your journey.” His smile was uncertain, his brown eyes wide. “But if you would rather someone else—” He started to scramble to his feet, but a wave of my hand stopped him.
Flameblast Sernyn Keltie. Sending Gwynn was another form of subtle warfare. Somehow, through his letters to Rosanna, he caught her deviousness and knew how to make my life a living hell.
“I don’t doubt your abilities, Gwynn, nor would I rather someone else be our guide. You, at least, I know to be honorable.”
The young man’s expression suggested he wasn’t quite sure of my sincerity. “You will not be disappointed.” A boyish gleam danced in his eyes for just a brief moment. “Or my father will be angry.”
“Just who is your father, anyway? You never introduced us. As a matter of fact,” I said, realizing the truth, “you didn’t introduce me to anyone. Were you ashamed of me or afraid I would be impolite?”
His cheeks flushed bright scarlet. “I would never think that.”
“Alex.” Anders scowled, disentangling himself from his bedroll. “You’re being rude. Leave the poor boy alone.”
“I’m just curious.” I watched the boy thoughtfully for a moment, studying his handsome features, wondering why they seemed so familiar, as he tugged at his unruly lock of thick hair. “If his father’s so quick to anger—”
The boy flushed deeper, if that were possible, and looked down at his hands. “He is not, truly. It is just that this task is a matter of honor. My father is a clan chief. If I fail you, I disgrace him. And myself,” he added quietly.
Curious boy. I watched his face go through a number of battling expressions. “I’m sorry. I’m not quite awake, and I am being rude.”
“Yes, you are. And I’m hungry.” Anders groaned as he stretched the kinks from his aching back. “First assignment as guide, Gwynn, is to make us a decent breakfast.”
* * * *
We learned quickly that Gwynn wasn’t lying. He really was an excellent, well-trained scout. The boy found paths through the dense forest every time my untrained eyes swore we were trapped or lost. Two days of quiet, companionable traveling through the hushed woods left Anders and me weary and aching in every joint and muscle, and cranky. Not Gwynn, who wasn’t old enough to feel tired or even know the meaning of the word.
Eyes closed, I sat cross-legged before the mound of dirt and dead leaves thankful we’d finally stopped traveling for the day. The familiar sharp prick of ice and the answering sting of flame easily merged to cool warmth. Forgetting Anders and Gwynn and our journey, I envisioned the campfire we needed, and relaxed as I heard the crackle of burning flame. Satisfied, I opened one eye to find Gwynn shyly watching me. Caught, he looked down and fumbled with some pebbles at his feet. I cocked my head to the side and watched him, waiting. In the last two days, I’d caught him stealing such glances several times.
Gwynn flushed with embarrassment, eyes still averted. “My father told me you saved Queen Elena’s crown in the Mage Challenge, and that she granted you the title of Mage Champion.”
“That’s what she calls me when she wants to annoy me. I think she should change it. It’s a bit too aggressive, don’t you think?”
At the obvious amusement in my voice, Gwynn looked up. “But you must be aggressive to defend the queen. And Alex, your mage talent is highly respected. It is far beyond what any Glynnswood mage can do.”
“I wonder—” I stopped, keeping my thoughts to myself.
“It’s an interesting thought.” Anders said, catching my unspoken thought as he joined us by the campfire, leaning back against the soft pile of bedrolls.
Resting my chin on my hand, I eyed Anders for a moment. “You don’t think it smacks of being an unhinged, narrow-minded idiot?”
Cool seagray eyes twinkled at me, smug for reading my mind. “Not at all.”
Gwynn sat there puzzled, eyes darting between us, though he never asked for an explanation. Lords of the sea, I’d never survive going through life so civilized. Growing up with Jules and Khrista and Elena had banished my good manners.
“Did, ah, Elder Keltie mention anything to you about—” I paused, searching for a diplomatic word.
“What Alex is trying to say,” Anders picked up where I left off, “is whether Elder Keltie mentioned anything about our suspicions regarding the attack on us in Glynnswood,” he finished, preening like a well-fed cat.
Gwynn nodded, brown eyes wide. “He said you thought there was a chance someone in Glynnswood might be involved. Alex—” His expression was earnest as he leaned forward. “If that is true, it would be dishonorable.”
“That’s one way of looking at it. But I was wondering just how highly respected my magic really is in civilized Glynnswood.” At the boy’s befuddled look, I explained. “Is it highly respected or highly envied?”
Recognition flashed in his eyes as he yanked at his hair. “Oh.”
“It’s just a thought.”
“She doesn’t have many,” Anders explained. “So consider it an honor that she has one in front of you.” He dodged my fist as Gwynn tried valiantly not to laugh at my expense.
“Are there many mages in Glynnswood?”
“In our village of near one thousand people, there are only forty or fifty mages. It is not very different throughout the forest.” He smiled sadly, and shrugged. “My father is a mage, but I have no magic talent.”
“I didn’t think I had any for a long, long time. But you have your own talen
t that’s just as special.” The boy looked genuinely puzzled. “You told us you were a good guide. You are. Your father and Elder Keltie obviously sent a scout who knows what he’s doing. For someone who’s not quite so old,” —I grinned— “you’ve done much to help us. Anders and I would never have found the paths that you have.” Embarrassed at my open and sincere praise, Gwynn flushed, his expression, to my eyes, horrified when I added, “I’ll tell your father myself.”
“No.” He scrambled to his feet.
Anders arched a brow at me.
“My father said you would not be comfortable with—” Gwynn stammered, tugging at the misbehaving lock of hair that dangled over his forehead, “with the clan chiefs since you are unhappy with Elder Keltie.”
How had I earned such an appalling reputation?
I pointed a finger at Anders when he started to speak. “Don’t say anything. And get that smug look from those frosty gray eyes. “Well, Gwynn…” I turned to the boy, who was still poised to flee. “I’m only uncomfortable with one elder, and you know who that is. Despite Anders’s unflattering opinion of me, I’m grateful for your help, and I want your father to know how skilled you are. Hearing it from strangers, particularly the queen’s aggressive Mage Champion should only make him proud of you. Don’t you agree?”
Gwynn hadn’t moved a muscle.
I was confused. “Sit down. I won’t bite. And I won’t tell your father if you’d rather I didn’t.”
Gwynn sat down, the somber look in his eyes giving way to boyish mischief. “You could write him a letter instead.”
* * * *
In another three days, we’d skirted the foothills of the Bitteredge Mountains, keeping within the natural protection of the dense woods. East lay Ardenna. Beyond that, a day’s journey north, the road snaked up the side of the Arditch Mountains to Barrow’s Pass. We’d reached the borders of Glynnswood. Gazing north, I could see the mountains on the horizon.
I turned to Gwynn, who sat on a log, whittling the same small piece of wood he’d been toying with for a few days. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
Mage Resolution (Book 2) Page 6