Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2)

by Brian W. Foster

  Tasia grimaced. “He took you off a battlefield. I get that you feel like you owe him your life, but that doesn’t mean he can treat you as an object meant solely for his pleasure.”

  Ivie barked out a harsh laugh. “He’s never touched me. Not once. Barely looks at me.” She met Tasia’s eyes. “I don’t understand why, but he listens and respects my counsel. Praises me.” Her voice dropped. “He doesn’t even realize I’m a girl. My figure isn’t … well, I’m not built anything like you.”

  “Oh.”

  That was all Tasia could think to say. She’d had it wrong. The problem wasn’t that Brant was making inappropriate demands. It was that he wasn’t.

  * * *

  Tasia glanced at the setting sun.

  Brant would have them rising before dawn the following day, and she’d already stayed talking to Mari and Lainey for long after Ivie left. Time to get to her bedroll.

  Ashley’s tent had been erected in the center of the camp, presumably to her exacting standards, and Tasia entered.

  “What are you doing?” Ashley said.

  “Going to bed.”

  “In my tent?”

  “Yes,” Tasia said. “Exactly as I’ve done the last four nights, and every night we’ve had to spend on the road since we left Asherton.”

  Ashley huffed. “Not tonight. I need my rest, and your constant fidgeting keeps me awake.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Leave, please.”

  Tasia rolled her eyes. Sleeping under the stars like everyone else wouldn’t kill her. “Fine.” She grabbed bedding from her cot and left to find Lainey.

  “Kicking you out of her tent is so weird. Does she do things like that just to prove how fickle she is?”

  “No,” Tasia said. “I’m sure she has a reason. She always has a reason.”

  The next morning, Tasia woke refreshed. Lainey was already dressed in her traveling garb, not bothering to fix her hair or do makeup.

  “I thought we were wearing dresses today,” Tasia said.

  They would, after all, be seeing actual people, and she wanted to look her best for Xan. Not that she could compare to Ashley, but still …

  “Lady Ashley ordered Brant to stop and put up her tent just out of Eye Lake so we can get ready,” Lainey said. “Can’t take the risk of getting her hair mussed up during the four hours of riding we have left, I guess.”

  Tasia nodded. That made sense. She dressed in her traveling attire and went about her chores and eating breakfast. When it was nearly time to mount up, however, she noticed that the tent was still up.

  Ashley could be sick, which would explain her behavior the previous night. Tasia sighed. She’d better check.

  “Ashley,” she called, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

  “May I enter?” Tasia said.

  “Of course.”

  Tasia walked in. Ashley was fully dressed in a green dress that set off her eyes and dipped low in the front to display her to great advantage. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and her face made.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” Ashley said.

  “I … I thought we …”

  “Silly. It’s time to leave.”

  “But … your tent!” Tasia said. “I can still get ready while it’s being taken down.”

  “I’m so sorry, my dear cousin,” Ashley said. “The tent is staying here since I’ll not need it in Eye Lake.”

  “Fine. It’ll only take me a few minutes to get ready.” Tasia had changed in the woods frequently enough when traveling. All she needed was a maid and half an hour.

  “Do hurry,” Ashley said. “The order will come soon for everyone to saddle up.”

  “Like I said, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

  A horn sounded, the signal to move out.

  Ashley clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh dear! There’s no time for you to get dressed!”

  “I’m sure I can catch up.”

  With all the wagons, the group traveled at a snail’s pace.

  “I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you,” Ashley said. “With us about to meet the enemy, it’s important for everyone to stay together. The soldiers have been ordered to treat anyone approaching as a possible combatant. If you fall behind, you’ll just have to go back to Heart Harbor.

  “You … you planned this!” Tasia said.

  On a good day, her looks didn’t compare well to Ashley’s. With mussed hair and wearing old, dirty travel clothes, Tasia would look like an old hag when Xan saw her.

  She wanted to cry.

  79.

  Xan stood atop the watchtower.

  In his magically enhanced view, Asher’s force topped the last rise with Brant in the lead. A slight girl with black hair rode beside him.

  Xan scanned her—a death mage. She looked familiar.

  Ahh, the Dastanarian he’d struck on the head outside Asherton. He blushed at the memory. She’d hadn’t been wearing much in the way of clothes at the time.

  Next came Ashley, followed by Lainey and … Tasia.

  His breath caught.

  Prettier even than he remembered, though he wasn’t sure how that was possible. Her mussed hair and wrinkled and dusty travel garb were just so … her, the outfit of someone who got her hands dirty helping people.

  He couldn’t help but stare, his eyes tracing the lines of her body from the worn leather of her boots to the barest hint of skin showing beneath her tan riding skirt to the arches displayed by her uncharacteristically form-fitting shirt to her perfect lips and shining eyes. So, so beautiful.

  Tasia clutched her hands around the pommel of her saddle, which could have been just because she still didn’t seat the horse well, but her nostrils flared. She was angry.

  Xan’s stomach tightened. Probably mad at him for proposing to her. In a note. With her cousin’s ring.

  He grimaced. What a complete idiot! How could he have ever thought doing that was a good idea? She had every right to be livid with him.

  Apologize. At length and sincerely. The first words out of his mouth. That was his only hope.

  If he were lucky, she’d forgive him one day. One year. One decade?

  Or … did he dare to even dream … one minute?

  He’d extend his arm to help her from her horse. She’d accept. Her skin would touch his, exquisite no matter how brief.

  She’d look away shyly as her face reddened, and he’d be there when she looked at him, again. Their eyes would meet. They’d move closer, inexorably drawn, without even realizing it.

  He’d take her soft, rosy cheeks in his hands, and she’d tilt her head up. Her lips. He’d bend …

  Xan’s heart pounded.

  Be serious! She’d get down off that horse beside him, all right … and slap him so hard his face would sting for hours. And he wouldn’t heal it, either, no matter how it hurt. He deserved it. A gentleman didn’t kiss a lady without her permission and he was fantasizing about doing it again.

  And there was another big issue involving Tasia. When he saw her, she’d see him.

  A band of gold circling his wrist was shiny enough to show a reflection, and he double checked himself. The glamour he used concealed the rings around his eyes, making them look normal. Lying.

  Great way to try to win her forgiveness. Apologize and … deceive.

  What choice did he have, though? Letting her know what he’d become? A worthless seed addict.

  He couldn’t bear the thought.

  She already wouldn’t be happy with him, both for the things he knew he’d done wrong and for dozens of others that had probably escaped his attention. Adding in that he was so weak and cowardly and just plain stupid to abuse such a potent drug … yeah, he’d have no chance.

  No. He’d have to keep that part of himself hidden from her. It was his only hope, slim as it might be.

  Xan let out a long breath. For better or worse, he’d find out in a few hours. Until then, he had much to do to make everything
perfect for his confrontation with Brant.

  He scanned Eye Lake. His mages were in place. Some dressed as laborers, tilling fields across the pond with hand tools. Others milled about shops as if idle customers. Still others wore his black, red, and gold livery and mixed in with the common guards atop the wall.

  So far, so good.

  Gregg had pushed hard to arrive the previous afternoon. In contrast, Brant moved as if on a ride in the country with his best girl. Calm. No hurry.

  No danger.

  A wise tactic. Barreling through the mountains would make attack inevitable. The slow approach gave the option of negotiation. Xan couldn’t help but be impressed at the show of restraint.

  He scanned each member of Brant’s party and found forty-six mages, most dressed in Duke Asher’s livery, along with twenty regular soldiers. Not a bad little force. Nowhere near the one hundred fifty-six mages and more than two hundred soldiers and four hundred volunteer militia Xan commanded … but not bad.

  If he could just get them on his side, they’d have over two hundred mages. Add that to whatever the queen had recruited should he be able to gain the queen’s trust, and hopefully, that would be enough to stop Dastanar. Otherwise … he didn’t even want to think about the consequences.

  With a last lingering look at Tasia, he hustled down the stairs to his throne room, not daring to fly down with so many enemy magic users present. There, he finalized details with Gregg and signed the most important of the ever-increasing pile of papers Robyn shoved in front of him.

  Brant’s journey down the mountain and over the bridge took a few hours, and when the group neared town, Xan repositioned himself to stand atop the wall next to the gate, watching as the long line of horses wound through bustling streets.

  Ashley smiled up at him, showing she’d mastered her powers as a glamour. Good. He knew how reluctant she was to fight in a battle, but they needed every mage they could get.

  Tasia, though, kept her attention firmly focused on controlling her horse as Brant had his force form a semi-circle below the wall.

  “You know why I’m here,” he said once all his troops were positioned. “Surrender now, and we’ll make things quick and painless.”

  Xan stifled a grin. Only Brant would go into battle outnumbered more than three to one and demand surrender. Well, best give him what he wanted.

  “I can float down to you,” Xan said, “but I need your word you’ll not block my magic while I’m in the air.”

  Not that there was much chance of that happening. All Xan’s mages had their assignments and would cut off Brant’s mages at the first sign of them doing anything.

  “On my honor as a knight, I swear it.” For some reason, Brant grimaced.

  Weird.

  Well, enough stalling.

  Xan stepped off the parapet.

  80.

  Tasia grimaced as she rode across the bridge to Eye Lake.

  After so many times imagining seeing him again, she was so close—so, so close—to Xan, but instead of looking her best, dust covered her. And did she wear a beautiful gown that fit her perfectly? No. Only old, wrinkled clothes that were way too snug and road worn.

  She sighed. Dwelling on her appearance only served to remind her how mad she was at Ashley. Better to concentrate on something else, like the town … no, city, stretching before her.

  The purpose of the magic use they’d sensed had become apparent as soon as she’d seen it. She’d always heard the nobles left no brick on top of another when they’d laid waste to the mages’ home, but she’d never have guessed that from what her eyes told her.

  A full castle stood in the center of an island. Towers. Walls. Keep. As far as she could tell, fully constructed. And scores of buildings, many made of stone, surrounded it. The outer city wall was still being built, but the gate at the bridge’s exit was complete.

  How long had Xan been here? Three months? Unbelievable. He must have worked round the clock to get so much done … or had more mages than anyone thought possible. Likely both.

  As they neared the gate, she glanced at a figure atop the wall. Tall. Well built. She stared for a few moments before realizing who it was.

  But it couldn’t be.

  But it was.

  When last she saw Xan, he’d been a good man—smart, caring, sensitive—in over his head, and he’d needed her help. Both his goodness and his need had drawn her to him, not his looks. Stick thin, wearing plain clothes and topped by a messy mop of curls … not unattractive, really, but unpolished. Definitely not someone who’d make a girl swoon.

  Not anymore. Whatever he’d been doing since Asherton agreed with him because wow. Just wow.

  Muscles more suited for a blacksmith than a scrawny apothecary pushed against tight leather armor. Instead the unadorned, shapeless outfit of a craftsman, he had on a uniform. Shiny gold trim contrasted with stark black, and a red and gold gryphon drew eyes to his chest. Short coiffed hair replaced the untamed tangle on top of his head. And he wore a cape. A cape!

  It made him look like a king. No, a hero. Ready to lead an army into battle. To rule a nation. To conquer the three kingdoms.

  To make every woman who saw him want him.

  Her heart sank. The lonely boy she’d met back in Asherton … maybe Ashley would have eventually lost interest in that boy. He might have turned to Tasia.

  She knew it to be a stupid, silly, girlish hope, but it was a hope, nonetheless.

  That man … that king … standing on the wall, though? Not a chance. Ashley would never give up, and he’d only have eyes for her.

  Tasia looked away. While they completed the ride through Eye Lake and Brant directed everyone to where he wanted them, she focused on guiding her horse and ended up next to Lainey in the back middle of a semi-circle.

  When everyone was positioned with Brant front and center, he yelled, “You know why I’m here. Surrender now, and we’ll make things quick and painless.”

  Xan didn’t appear concerned about the force facing him, and that lack didn’t surprise Tasia. He’d have needed more than a hundred mages at his command to get so much done so fast, meaning he could probably kill them in an instant.

  Her heart pounded. Did anything of that lost, lonely boy remain in the man standing over them?

  Instead of lashing out with a threat, he said, “I can float down to you, but I need your word you’ll not block my magic while I’m in the air.”

  A gracious response, neither threatening nor gloating. That he’d humor an old friend was a sign he’d not gone mad with power, at least.

  Hopefully.

  Brant rushed to assure him that no action would be taken against him, and Xan stepped off the wall. The black and gold cape fluttered behind him as he flew.

  And he did fly. Kineticists she’d seen jerked about, lifting and changing course in fits and starts. Not Xan. Not anymore. He rode the wind, and he smiled as he did it. Confident.

  Her heart rose in her throat. Perhaps too confident.

  Despite Brant’s promise, he was there to kill Xan, and blocking a kineticist in flight was an easy way to do just that. A warning yell sprang to her tongue.

  But she stilled it. He usually knew … mostly knew … okay, sometimes knew … what he was doing. She’d trust him that much.

  Her decision couldn’t still her anxiousness as he descended, and her hands tightened on the reins. The horse danced as Xan drifted down, slowly. Majestically. Smoothly. Walking on air. Finally touching the ground several yards in front of the group, and when he did, the loose dirt at his feet didn’t even stir. And though his head barely reached the top of the saddle of Brant’s stallion, something about Xan made it seem like he loomed over everyone.

  He met Tasia’s eyes and grinned. Her breath caught, and he started forward.

  “Do I have your surrender?” Brant said.

  Tasia expected Xan to stop and address the question. Instead, it didn’t appear he even heard. Without taking his eyes off her, he walked right
past the big war stallion.

  Heat rose to her face under the intensity of his gaze.

  “Halt!” Brant yelled.

  Xan kept walking. Didn’t slow. Like the leader of the force sent to execute him was of no consequence compared to … her. She didn’t understand.

  “I mean it, Xan. Stop!”

  Xan frowned and mouthed ‘sorry’ before turning to face Brant. “I know you and I have matters to discuss, but I have something more important to do first.”

  “More important than forty-five mages come to arrest you?”

  “Don’t you mean forty-six?”

  Brant glared at him, and Xan mulled things over for an instant as something unspoken passed between them.

  “Okay,” Xan said. “Forty-five. I must have counted wrong, but you’ll give me a minute, right?”

  Tasia didn’t understand how it was possible for him to have counted at all. He’d never seen over half the mages and had no way of knowing … unless he could scan at a distance. Which would explain how he could have recruited so many, so fast.

  But none of those mages were in evidence, and he stood in the middle of a lot of people who wished him harm. She hoped he had a really good plan to keep himself from getting killed.

  “One minute only and don’t even think about trying anything.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Xan was smiling when he faced Tasia again.

  Ashley maneuvered to intercept him, jostling the horses in the close ranks around her and preening with her perfect hair and beautiful dress. She bent to stick her cleavage in his face.

  He nodded at her—nodded!—and walked right past her, his eyes not leaving Tasia for an instant. It was like he hadn’t even noticed Ashley, but that made no sense. No man could not notice Ashley.

  Though it was wrong to take pleasure in others’ failure, Tasia couldn’t help but crack a small smile, her stupid, silly, girlish hope suddenly renewed. Against all reason, he seemed only to have eyes for her, and in that moment, that glorious, wonderful moment, she was more important to him than anything or anyone else.

  “T-Tasia, I … I’m not sure how to say this. Back in that cell … I was a complete and total fool.”