“No, I couldn’t.” I wish she’d drop this crazy idea that my magic was harmful to me. I didn’t believe it for a second. When I looked at Rei Vosen, a knowing smile curved her lips. Dust and ashes, I’d acknowledged that my magic ran stronger than the Council suspected. I must be more wrung out than I realized. I needed a muzzle.
“May the Goddess grant you peace and prosperity.” Rei Vosen clasped her hands. Time to get down to business.
“And unto you,” Graves and I intoned, following suit.
Rei Vosen nodded, her gaze sympathetic. “Quinn, the Council of Divine Magic sends condolences for your loss. I can’t imagine . . . I wish . . . I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I kept my grip on Cora who suddenly seemed to hold me up as much as she comforted me.
Rei Vosen’s chin firmed. “Commander, report.”
Graves recited the known facts—which weren’t many—and retold our story. She didn’t say she doubted us, nor did she give a ringing endorsement. Neutral. Emotionless. I understood the necessity. So did Rei Vosen, it seemed.
“Excellent job, Commander.”
“Thank you, Rei Vosen. I take my position seriously.” She spoke with a hint of an edge.
“I know you do, Commander. And the Council appreciates your capable service.” She clasped Graves’ shoulder briefly. “You must know that most of us spoke in your favor to the High Rei. You’ve always done us proud, in whatever capacity.”
Graves nodded, her face betraying no emotion.
Yet I could swear the surrounding air became heated. Interesting. What was the story there?
“I’d best get back. Lead by example and all that.”
“Of course. Let me know what you find.”
Graves saluted and returned to the rubble, leaving the three of us alone.
“Quinn, please have something to eat and drink.” Rei Vosen indicated the area that now contained steaming vats of food. “You look exhausted. I’ll call you over when you’re needed. Leave the rest to us.”
“He’ll eat. I promise.” Cora slipped under my shoulder and turned us in that direction before I could protest.
“Looks like I’m taking a break.” I turned to look over my shoulder, and Vosen had the most besotted look on her face.
As we reached the food-service area, Graves whistled, and the City Patrol cheered and rushed to get in line behind me.
Twig stepped up and eyed the food with distrust. “How do we know no one’s put a love potion in it?”
Cora stared like he’d grown an extra head. “Do you want me to taste Quinn’s food first?”
He frowned. “I can do it.”
Cora leaned around me to see him better. “I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Over here!” a citadel soldier called a short time later. She waved her arms and several others rushed over, including Twig. I stayed where I was, digging through the soggy and charred remains of my grandmother’s workshop. Not that I didn’t want to see for myself . . . but I wasn’t quite ready for it to be real.
I turned my attention back to picking through the only happy memories I had of this place. I’d already saved a few elixirs, some rare herbs, and other spell ingredients. The majority of it, however, was a total loss. All those herbs, all those medicines, all those formulas and compounds. Many took years to develop. And her books. My grandmother kept journals of various formulas, always adding a note here or there as she refined a process in her precise penmanship. I loved those books. I felt about the apothecary the way most kids felt in a candy kiosk. I think I mourned that more than the loss of my family.
I’d sacrifice it all to find Zak safe and sound.
I grunted as I carried a large piece of ceiling beam to the outskirts of the mess. Cora continued searching the area I’d just cleared using magic to help. It grated that I couldn’t do the same.
She held up a thick tome. I hurried to her side. Nothing on the leather cover, but the number ‘four’ was carved into the spine.
“This is one of my grandmother’s notebooks!” I snatched it from Cora’s hands and then lovingly opened the soggy tome. The pages stuck together and some of the ink had run, but it appeared salvageable. I gently closed it and hugged it to my chest, ignoring the sounds behind me.
Cora pointed. “There’s another one.”
We knelt in the remains and continued our excavation. By the time we’d unearthed six other tomes—two a total loss, but the others salvageable to some degree—the frantic digging behind us had stopped, and voices had fallen silent. I gathered the notebooks while marshalling the strength for what came next. A large hand came to rest on my shoulder. I didn’t need to look to know Twig’s touch.
I swallowed to wet my suddenly dry throat. “You found them?”
“I’ve confirmed their identities to Commander Graves and Rei Vosen. You don’t have to do this.” Twig’s voice was the gentlest I’d ever heard.
“I do.” I handed the books to Cora, then rose and spent futile moments rubbing my hands against my thighs as if I could possibly remove the dirt, the memory of this place.
“You’re humming. Are you sure you want to do this?” Mud and soot coated Twig’s skin and clothing, his hair tied in a messy topknot. He reached out and stroked my cheek.
“I’m sure.” I allowed myself to lean into the touch for a moment before squaring my shoulders and striding over to where Graves, Vosen, the Patrol, and the citadel forces gathered.
Now or never.
They parted for me, broken glass and bits of timber crunching under their feet. I stepped up. Faltered. Made myself take a shuddering breath. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. Charred bodies perhaps. Instead, all three figures were dirty but mostly intact, multiple stab wounds evident on each corpse.
I looked over the bodies, expecting to feel something. Anything, except a creeping numbness. I hadn’t loved them. Not really. Or, perhaps I did once. Now, the memories were all wrapped up in bitterness and anger.
Examining Mortimer, I felt . . . relief. Anger. Remorse. But it all seemed so remote, like it belonged to someone else. I couldn’t say I hated him. It came close, though. Not surprising that even in death his face set in lines of sneering indifference.
My father might have been the saddest casualty. For him, I felt nothing at all. I closed my eyes searching for a happy image of us from my childhood. Nothing. He’d always been in the backdrop of my life. A bit player. No one. Almost a stranger.
My calm cracked a little when I stared at my mother. She’d been an herbalist, if a reluctant one. I, at least, had a few fond memories of helping her out in the workshop when I’d been tiny. She would be so mortified to see herself now—her golden hair soot-blackened, her face and figure undignified in death. I might have been able to walk away relatively unscathed if not for the wounds on her hands. She’d tried to defend herself, even though it had been for naught.
I bit down on my knuckles to contain the pain and the rage. I didn’t know who did this, but they would pay. I’d see to it.
21
“Try to get some sleep, Quinn.” Cora leaned in and kissed my blackened cheek. We stood at the end of the corridor leading to our suite. She wasn’t much better, with soot streaking her hair and face, her gown a total loss. “I’ll come by once we’ve all rested.”
“I feel like I could sleep for a week.” I attempted a smile but didn’t fool anyone. “Thanks for being there.”
“I can’t believe someone murdered your family.” Cora’s gaze turned solemn. “I can promise you the Council of Divine Magic will take this matter seriously. The High Rei won’t rest until there’s justice for you. Whoever’s behind it will rue this day, mark my words.”
I wouldn’t hold my breath. I didn’t voice that to Cora because she seemed to trust the Council’s motivations. I didn’t trust that easily, nor did Twig. For all we knew, one member—or just as likely, all of them—worked some nefarious scheme that Twig and I just couldn’t see at the mom
ent. We would sort this out ourselves.
Cora stood on tip-toe, tugging Twig to her, and kissed his cheek. “Take care of him, please.”
“You never have to ask. I’ll always have my wizard’s back.” Twig stepped away, retreating down our hallway, giving Cora a moment alone with me. Coming from my dragon, the small gesture meant a lot. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, he liked Cora.
A few of the palace guards followed Twig, their arms laden with the salvaged remains of my family home and the apothecary. Twig carried my grandmother’s notebooks, not trusting them to anybody else. Grateful didn’t even begin to describe the feeling of being so well understood.
“Before retiring, I owe Hallewell a report.” Cora sighed. “I’m sure Rei Vosen is updating her now, but the High Rei will want my take as well. She’s meeting with visiting dignitaries from Beaupawa Islands in the morning. She’ll want to see you as soon as possible afterward.” Cora nodded like she wanted to reassure me of her serious intent.
“Zak’s missing.”
“What?” Her brow creased. “Why didn’t you say something? We could’ve sent citadel guards to search for him.”
“I don’t even know where they would begin. He doesn’t, I mean, didn’t, live with my parents. They used him for his labor. He didn’t even attend school, Cora.” I ran my fingers through my hair. Or at least I tried to. Between the ash and the dirt, they stuck.
“Goddess, that’s awful. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but I don’t understand them.”
“Me either. And now, I’ll never get the chance.” I shrugged, still numb. I planned to bathe and then go out looking for Zak myself. I hadn’t expected to spend so much time excavating my life, nor all the questions that Twig and I answered afterward for both the Patrol and Vosen.
“I’m here if you need to talk about it.” Cora gave me another hug. “I’m sending fresh guards to stand at the end of the corridor. Don’t argue with me. Hallewell will skin me alive if I don’t provide you with protection. I’ll station them here, instead of in your suite. That’s the best I can offer.”
Too tired to argue, I hugged her back, then managed to wave as she retreated. The guards shuffled past, looking almost as exhausted as I felt. They surprised me by offering a tired salute in passing.
Twig waited just inside the doorway to our suite. As I crossed the threshold, my bracer vibrated, and the tingle of ancient magic filled my bones.
“What is it, Quinn?” Twig closed the distance between us.
“I-I don’t know. It’s like . . . ” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember. “It feels like the same magic that guarded Hallewell’s garden.”
Twig’s eyes narrowed. “Someone entered our rooms?”
Keeping my eyes closed, I reached out with my magic. “No, the wards are intact. That shouldn’t be possible. Even with such an ancient magic, my wards should have tripped.”
“So, somehow, someone entered without tripping your wards?” Twig growled.
I opened my eyes to find him trying to sniff the air. With all the ash he inhaled, I couldn’t imagine he smelled much.
“I don’t think someone entered, but magic did, and it didn’t set off the wards. I’m too tired to think clearly on this now. And we need to go after Zak.”
“You look like you’re asleep on your feet, wizard. Let’s bathe and get some shut-eye.”
“No, we have to find him.” I tilted my chin, daring him to contradict me.
Twig stared for a long moment, his eyes heavy lidded. “First, let me look around our suite. Just in case. You stay here.”
Normally, I would complain about his overprotective behavior. At this moment, I only felt gratitude at not having to move one step farther. My arms ached from all the lifting and sorting, my whole body ached from the magic expenditure. Not sure I could even raise my arms above my head at this point. Closing the door, I leaned back against it.
I must have dozed because I suddenly found myself stripped bare and lowered into the large tub filled with steaming water. Twig climbed in behind, settled me between his legs, and proceeded to wash both of us from head to toe with a citrusy soap that produced an abundance of bubbles. By the time we finished, I fought to keep my eyes open, and the bathwater had turned black as pitch.
I don’t remember drying off, or the trek to our bedroom, or the feeling of the mattress beneath me. The next thing I knew, I woke in our bed, once again alone. I didn’t know how many hours I’d slept, the heavy drapes blocking out all light.
“You’re awake.”
I tensed, Twig’s voice loud in the dark. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“Someone had to protect you. Your family’s been murdered, and now you say someone . . . or something . . . entered our room without setting off your wards.”
“You should sleep—”
“Dragons don’t need as much rest as humans. I do it because I like to be in bed with you.”
Any other time, that would’ve sounded sexually suggestive. I doubt either of us felt like getting frisky at the moment.
“What time is it?” I rubbed my hands over my eyes, still feeling like I’d barely slept, every muscle in my body sore.
“Just after dawn, wizard. Go back to sleep for a couple more hours. I’ll keep watch.”
A quiet tap sounded on our entryway door. I heard, yet still couldn’t see, Twig leave the bedroom and head for the front door. Forcing myself out of bed, I called light to my palm, then searched for something easy to put on. By the time I made it to the sitting area, Twig sat on the divan, a pile of scrolls next to him. His face looked thunderous, and he vibrated with anger.
“What’s all that?” I sat on his other side and leaned in to see what he studied.
Twig growled. “Pleas from my allies on the City Council. It seems Petalflash is pushing a vote on indentured servitude. Fucking Alphae. Thinks if I’m not there, he can persuade—
threaten—Nebula Candlebloom to vote his way. I hate that guy. He’s almost as Alphae as my father.”
“But that’s your legislation. It wasn’t due for a vote until the summer. How is it on the agenda now?”
“You know the bureaucratic bullshit Petalflash dishes out. I’m sure he found a way to get it on the roster sooner.” He tugged at his braided hair, his jaw clenched. “While I’m absent.”
We both worked so hard on this piece of legislation. It would end indentured servitude for all creatures in Lighthelm proper. We had bigger dreams to push the issue to the High Council and make it illegal throughout the realm, starting with the Elder’s largest city first.
“When’s the vote?” A sinking feeling took root in my gut.
“Tomorrow. And to make matters more fucked up, my dad sent me a missive, too.”
I groaned. “What does he want?”
“I’m afraid to read it. It’s probably an order to meet with him, since he’s undoubtedly aware of Petalflash’s move. He might even try to convince me to stay out of it, because you know how he is.”
I firmed my spine. “You have to go back.” I held up a hand to keep him from commenting. “We . . . You . . . can’t let him do this. It’s our opportunity to get rid of that hideous practice so at least in Lighthelm nobody ends up in my situation.”
“And what about Zak? Are you willing to leave him for now?” Twig gave a hard yank on his braid. My dragon wasn’t stupid, he knew what I’d say.
“Go without me—”
“No! That’s not happening. We go. Or we stay. Period. I’m not leaving you. Not when we don’t know who murdered your family, where Zak is, and what the Council’s aim truly is.”
“That won’t work, Twig. And, yeah, this is horrible timing. I don’t want you to go, but I can’t leave Zak. I need to be here in case he shows up. You can’t give up this legislation. It’s too important. It’s bigger than me and affects so many creatures.”
“I can’t commit to that, wizard.” He pressed on his forehead like he had a headache coming on. “In
stead, let me finish my reading, then we’ll slip the guards and go look for any signs of your brother. I won’t have to leave until this evening, so let’s see if we can find him first. If so, we’ll all go. I’m sure my father can work miracles for a 24-hour entry visa if needed.”
“Twig—”
“That’s my best offer, wizard. Let’s go find your brother.”
22
The Rusty Horn Inn was about what you’d expect from a tavern on the docks. Pirates, ale, and prostitutes of all genders. Almost as familiar as my own home. Not the pirates, per se, though the Elder had plenty of not-so-savory characters who frequented taverns like this.
However, I hadn’t expected the inn to be packed at this time in the morning or the cheers that went up as we entered. The room took up the boisterous chant of “Twig, Twig, Twig.” I pursed my lips, kept my mouth shut.
My dragon smiled sheepishly, raised his hand to the room. “Guess I made an impression.”
“Mmhmm.” Not surprised. Twig was memorable.
We ambled toward a table in the corner of the tavern, near an overworked, undersized chill stick. Three large seagulls perched next to the stick, their feathers ruffled in the artificial breeze. The temperature remained uncomfortably hot, even so early in the morning, but it didn’t seem to affect the number of patrons. The group occupying the table scrambled out of their seats, tripping over their own feet to get out of our way. One guy even bowed.
Twig pulled out a chair for me, always the gentleman. My muscles screamed in pain from even the slightest movements. Before returning to the citadel, I’d have to see about stopping at an apothecary for Malise Muldova’s Muscle Cream. Not as good as Socrates Satyr’s Soreness Suck Away and other products available in the Elder, though it would take the edge off.
Hailing a server, Twig sank down next to me, preening from all the attention. Before I could ask what he’d done to deserve such a welcome, a busty barmaid waved off the other servers—all young men in various stages of undress—and sauntered up, a tiny seagull perched on her shoulder. Since when had seagulls replaced parrots as pirate birds of choice? The barmaid gave me a saucy wink and nudged Twig with her hip.
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