‘I will, I swear it.’
‘Good.’ And that seemed to be enough for her. ‘The king told me to protect you, so that’s what I will do. In the meantime I also have other duties, duties to the city and its people. I mean to continue doing those.’
This was more manageable, firmer ground. This was something practical that he could lend his aid to. He stood up, a gesture of solidarity. ‘I’ll help you.’
The sheet slid away and that was when he realised he was naked. Grace’s eyes grew wide, like a startled deer, and she swallowed, her throat moving as if trying to find words somewhere inside her. Bastien blushed and grabbed the sheet again, wrapping it around himself as she turned away.
‘I’m sure you will,’ she said, calmly, as if nothing had happened.
He felt like a fifteen year old again. A fool. Flustered and making an idiot of himself at every turn.
‘My clothes?’ He couldn’t have sounded more pathetic if he tried.
‘Were drenched in sweat. Ellyn took them to the laundry. The medic said to keep you cool. He said it was… just a fever. He’s seen it before.’
Everyone who worked the seedier parts of Rathlynn had seen something like it before, of that he was sure. It wasn’t exactly sophisticated. Just effective. Just a fever indeed. What had they given him?
A little silver flask. A sweet and sickly drink…
Grace thought she could protect him from whatever Asher and Aurelie had in store for him? He couldn’t even protect himself. Divinities, this was never going to work. What had Marius been thinking?
‘I’m going to need clothes,’ he said wearily, feeling his vulnerability. ‘And to bathe.’
Grace just nodded. ‘I’ll find them. And… well, there are communal baths.’
She waited, seeing his reaction. He kept his face impassive even though inside his stomach churned. ‘They’ll have to do.’ What choice did he have?
‘I’ll find you a robe and Daniel can show you… Will you be all right if you’re not with me?’
Did she mean it as a joke? To be honest he wasn’t sure and he didn’t know which idea was worse – that she genuinely feared he couldn’t take a bath in safety, or that she was making fun of him. When he stared at her, blinking slowly, she went on.
‘The drug. Do you still feel the effects? Should I stay with you in case you… I don’t know… drown or something…
Drowning in light. The Maegen closing over his head, pulling him under, and Grace, diving after him.
He shook the image away. He wasn’t sure how he felt, to be honest. It seemed to be out of his system now. He was… exhausted. But himself once more. He didn’t want to think about the blurred memories. About Aurelie. About what might have been.
‘I will. And I would appreciate the robe.’
She smiled as she looked him up and down. ‘I think the whole Academy would be better off if you had something on, your highness. Seeing the heir to the throne here will be startling enough. The heir to the throne in your state of undress might finish off the whole Academy.’
Even with the robe on, everyone stared. Daniel prattled on, which appeared to be his default setting, as they made their way down under the halls of the Academy and every face they passed turned to look at him. Bastien knew he ought to be used to it. It had happened all his life for one reason or another. Somehow it felt more invasive now.
The mageborn Academy members watched too. They said nothing but they watched. He didn’t recognise any particular one of them, even though he knew he should, from their days of homage. Mostly they were young, just cadets. He recognised the shiny looks on their faces, eager to please, full of duty and honour and the desire to serve. It made him feel jaded to his core.
The steps down led to a vaulted steam-filled room with deep pools fed by natural springs and heated by a hypocaust system, hot air under the floors piped through the whole area from a boiler below. He’d studied it once, his tutors keen on encouraging his interest in engineering at the time. Before they’d known what he really was. Or perhaps they had always known and just humoured him. He couldn’t recall. Memories that were gone. Memories he no longer had. Marius had told him stories of things from their childhood, filling in so much. They shared that, a love of how things worked. The plans for this place were as clear in his mind as if he had drawn them himself.
When his ancestors had taken the city and founded the Academy, they had taken the same care designing the building to house their gamekeepers that they had taken with the palace. More, perhaps, because it wasn’t sprawled on top of a rocky outcrop and didn’t burrow into the depths of the earth like a rat. It was neat and regimented, efficient. He found himself admiring the building, the way it ran like a well-oiled machine. Everything had its place and its role. Everything and everyone. There was a comfort to that.
A bit like home really.
Daniel Parry showed him to a secluded corner pool and stood back, almost like a courtier. He’d fit in well in the palace if he kept that up.
‘Thank you,’ Bastien said, slipping off the robe and handing it to him. Daniel’s eyes widened, but he took it without protest and Bastien slid into the water, letting it soothe his tired and aching muscles.
The bathing pool was deep, coming up to his waist when he stood, to his neck when he sat on the little step-like seat built into the side. He could stretch out his legs through the milky water and let the steam rise around him. Tilting his head back he let it rest on the curve built into the edge. Everything perfectly designed.
He closed his eyes and leaned back, inhaling the scent that came from the vents, the mix of lavender and tea tree. Behind his closed eyelids he could see the light, the Maegen so very close, a dream away. It warmed him, soothed him.
‘Right so, I’ll just…’ Daniel’s voice tailed off. ‘I’ll wait here then.’
‘I’ll let you know if I need anything,’ Bastien told him.
The Maegen surrounded him, suffusing the water. In the deepest part of the pool he could feel it pulsing, breathing, a living thing. He knew it was a risk, especially given where he was. He just couldn’t help himself. He needed it. Now more than ever.
It didn’t take long for an interruption to come. If anything it was entirely predictable. He’d almost been waiting for it. Here in this place, it was inevitable.
‘Are you… are you him?’ It was a girl’s voice, young and breathless. Bastien cracked open one eye. She was standing on the edge of the bath opposite him and Daniel was making choked noises behind him. Not noises of alarm. He was desperately trying to warn her off.
Long mousy brown hair hung down almost to the small of her back and she wore the simple uniform of a cadet. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen. A plain leather band encircled her throat, the sigil in it dark but still shiny. There was a group gathered behind her, still some distance back. They must have put her up to it. Or bullied her into it. They were collared too.
‘And who do you think I am?’ he asked in a low drawl. Privately he thanked the divinities for the water’s depth, and for whatever minerals they put in it that made it cloudy. He was far too naked for this conversation.
‘The… the Lord of Thorns?’
Goddess, he hated that name, that mocking title used to terrify people and make him the monster. It wasn’t their fault. It was all they heard of him. Be good or the Lord of Thorns will come for you. Behave, or we’ll give you to the Lord of Thorns. It made him as much of a fairy tale villain as the Hollow King. He couldn’t shake it off, no matter how he tried. All he could do was own it.
They were mageborn, all of them, staring at him, at the gold torc around his neck, at his dark eyes. They looked terrified, but also… desperate. Even here.
‘Yes,’ he said in reply.
The girl stepped back to her friends, and some of them reached out to her, touching her, and he felt a surge of magic in the air, like ozone tingling against him. She was strong, but they made her stronger. Interesting. A Leech, just
like him, but with others willing to share magic with her, rather than forcing her to take it.
He tilted his head to one side, watching them while Daniel told them to bugger off and find someone else to hassle. But that wasn’t going to happen. Bastien even heard him order someone else to fetch Marchant, but he couldn’t risk looking around and saying that it was too late. They weren’t going to go anywhere. They were young, idealistic. And stubborn. All the Academy were stubborn. Every last one of them. Except perhaps Parry.
The girl edged closer, leaving the others, coming towards him alone like a frightened animal. Every instinct should have told her to run, but she didn’t.
‘They said you were sick,’ the girl said, when she was aglow with transferred magic energy.
‘I was.’
She knelt down at the edge beside him and spread her hands out on either side, bowing her head.
‘Lord Prince, you’re mageborn like us. If you need magic, we offer it. It… it’s our honour to serve. We offer fealty and homage.’
Bastien turned in the water, facing her, and studied the girl carefully. She would be beautiful one day, and powerful too if the Academy didn’t break her, or drain her, or if her heart, so full of giving, didn’t betray her.
Lord Prince…
Something stung his eyes but he didn’t have it in him to name it.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Carla, Lord Prince.’
‘Carla,’ he said. ‘I thank you. But it isn’t your day of homage yet.’
‘But… but Lord Prince…’
‘You’ve done this before?’ Of course they had. All the mageborn did to an extent. And he was sure now he had seen some of them at the palace on their days of homage, their faces illuminated.
‘We help each other. It’s our way. It always has been.’
Of course it was. They had to survive somehow and sharing their magic was often the only way. ‘But I am not part of your way, sweet child. I’m a Larelwynn. I can’t be.’
She looked so bewildered, as if he wasn’t speaking the same language. ‘Lord Prince… you’re our prince.’ The emphasis on the word was subtle, but there.
‘And my cousin is our king,’ he told her. He laid his hand on her head and gently sent out a wave of power, a soft surge of warmth and acceptance which swirled through her, making the power within her sing as it flowed back to those it had come from. A Tide, a Lyric, a Charm, and a Flint. A number of each. Strong and young, full of idealism and some rebellious thoughts. He trailed along with the magic, touching the minds of each one and blessing them, his magic – the other side of it – strengthening each of them. The Maegen flowed through him, the deepest part of the pool filling him to bless them.
A shout of anger broke through the spell.
‘What in all the seven hells do you think you’re doing, Larelwynn?’
Grace had arrived.
Chapter Eleven
Grace paused in her search through the pile of discarded shirts and tunics, her head swimming as the golden hues of the Maegen settled around her. The warmth spread through the air and her skin prickled.
It had never happened while she was awake before. Not even in a daydream. It had to be because he was so close, because he was here in her home, because… because he had kissed her…
No. She shook her head, ordering herself to focus. She was trying to find out what Ellyn had done with Bastien’s clothes. Or at least find spare clothes big enough for him. This was not happening, not here, not now. Bastien couldn’t be having this effect on her. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
A voice cut through the reverie, urgent and out of breath.
‘Grace? You’d better get down to the baths. I think there’s a lynch mob gathering.’
Childers stood opposite her in the laundry. The problem was she hadn’t heard him coming, or even noticed him until he spoke. She’d been that far gone.
Enough was enough.
Damn it, she knew she shouldn’t have left him. She’d thought Daniel could manage babysitting him for a trip to the baths at least. She was an idiot.
She tried not to run, but the thought of what could happen, both to him and everyone at the Academy if this went sideways, was too much. She ended up sprinting.
He looked like a god rising from the waters, just like she had seen him in the Maegen. It ran down his body in rivulets and light blossomed in his hands. Water caught its glow and reflected the ripples of the pool up onto the vaulted ceiling. He laid his palm on the head of the girl kneeling on the bath edge and her eyes went wide, the pupils blown out to pools of darkness, her mouth opening in an ‘o’ of surprise.
It swept over Grace like a tsunami, almost taking her to her knees as she tried to keep moving. Fire boiled at the base of her spine, her hands ached and her skin tightened over her bones. It was like something akin to physical desire. She wanted him, needed him, and felt that need to the vital core of her being. Every nerve came to light and the torches on either side of the door blazed even brighter.
From somewhere she found her voice. It didn’t even sound like her voice. It was a voice full of rage and fire, a voice that couldn’t believe what she was seeing. What was he doing?
‘What in all the seven hells do you think you’re doing, Larelwynn?’
He looked over his shoulder, his wet hair spilling down his back like oil, his eyes shining with a light that should not have been there. It was like the light that had killed Kai, and it brimmed on his black eyelashes like tears of gold. He smiled, just a little, a soft apologetic smile, as if he had been expecting her. There was no remorse there, though. Not an iota of regret.
The light faded and then he was just a man, standing waist-deep in the milky water of the baths.
‘There you are, Captain,’ he said. The tiredness in his voice made her pause, and her anger transformed to concern. What had he done? Were they okay? Was he? But Bastien, being Bastien, had to go and ruin it immediately. ‘Good. Did you find my clothes?’
Like a servant. Like she was there to fetch and carry for him. Like she had no actual value at all aside from what she could do for him. Anger came back, sweeping away concern.
‘Get out of here,’ she yelled at the mageborn students, who scattered rapidly at her voice, clearly shaken but still in awe of him. Not so much, however, that it affected their survival instincts. ‘Get out now! And you, you utter bastard, get out of the water and put that fucking robe on. Danny, what the hell were you thinking letting them in here?’
Daniel, thinking. That was a joke.
‘I just… I didn’t do anything… they just…’
‘I don’t care what they just, Danny. What did he do to them? What did you let him do?’ She bore down on him like an avenging spirit and he stood there, shocked. But before she could reach him, Bastien stepped between them, still pulling the robe back into place.
‘If you’re angry with anyone, it’s me, Captain Marchant. Channel it properly.’
He glanced past her, drawing her attention to the candles which were now bubbling pools of wax. That, finally, brought Grace up short. She dragged her gaze back to him and all the strength seemed to go out of her.
He knew.
He’d probably always known. He was the seneschal of the mageborn. Of course he knew. But now he knew for sure.
‘Would you be so good as to leave us alone, Officer Parry?’ he said in the softest voice imaginable. ‘And see that we are not disturbed.’
‘You’re not in charge here,’ she told him, but her voice sounded unaccountably weak.
‘Of course not, Captain.’ Bastien took the bundle of clothes from her and headed for the changing rooms so quickly all she could do was follow him.
‘What did you just do?’
He undid the robe again and through a heroic act of sheer self-preservation she turned her back on him. A soft chuckle echoed around the small tiled room and she cursed him inwardly. The sound did things it shouldn’t do to her insi
des.
He towelled his hair and body dry using the scratchy towels from the changing room without comment or complaint, and then pulled on his clothes with silent efficiency.
‘Would you care to sit down?’ he asked.
Sure, in a damp changing room that needed cleaning. It stank of old sweat with an undercurrent of mould. That was just perfect.
‘I would care to have an explanation.’
‘There’s a garden here, isn’t there? Why don’t we go outside?’
‘Are you putting this off?’ She almost wished he was.
‘Not at all. Tell me what you need, Captain. I am yours to command.’
There was an edge to the way he said it and she winced before turning back to face him. When she did, she almost wished she hadn’t.
The dark and brooding Lord of Thorns was back, a contrast in gilded skin, black hair, clothes and eyes, and that shock of gold around his throat, his only adornment.
What did she need? She needed him to stop being so bloody distracting. And so arrogant. And so… so… himself. She needed space.
And she needed him to kiss her again, like he had last night.
Of course, he’d been delirious and drugged. She should never have responded but the temptation had been too great, and she herself had been half asleep tending him. It was all a horrific mistake and as soon as she could get to see the king she’d tell him that.
As soon as she could get to see the king, that was laughable. Like the king was going to listen to her. Like he’d even deign to see her again. A king did whatever a king wanted. And the same could be said for a prince.
‘Let’s go somewhere private,’ she said, making her voice calm and even. How she achieved that miracle she didn’t know. Even as she said it and saw the teasing edge of his crooked smile she knew that it was a bad idea. ‘We need to talk. Just talk.’
She shouldn’t be responding to him like this. She shouldn’t be responding to anyone like this but ever since she had met him her body didn’t seem to be doing what it was told. That had to stop. How was she supposed to do her job and—
Mageborn: An absolutely gripping fantasy novel (The Hollow King Book 1) Page 14