A gust of wind blew through the window, ruffling her hair and the fabric draped over the canopy of the queen’s bed.
Her mind stalled, shock plucking all coherent thought from her brain. Only the breeze registered.
Then the barrier to her familiar’s mind fell and she realized the grief she felt when Zenon was swallowed by the lava—
The grief was the Queen herself, his mother.
And now she felt love, acceptance, happiness for her son. Why such happiness? But, it was happiness all the same. Infectious, it welled up inside her and overflowed as a smile. The Queen’s returning smile was radiant.
Alazne’s smile faded as her mind caught up to her emotions. Ariad had called her “Princess.”
She knew—
“I know all about you,” the Queen said.
Alazne did move back this time, charge igniting in her legs, shaking, she was poised to flee. It suddenly felt too hot. The cool breeze from the window might as well have been coming from a furnace, or even Hellumon.
Queen Ariad reached over, placing a wizened hand upon hers.
And time stood still. The energy in her legs dissipated, the shaking stopped. Calm washed over her, giving her a sense of peace.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” she said. “What you did was truly brave. You’re exactly what I was hoping for.”
What she was hoping for?
Alazne bowed her head. “I do not want to marry that man.”
“You know.” There was a glint in the Queen’s eyes as she spoke. “You do not have to marry a betrothed.”
She didn’t know how it worked on this world, but that was not how it worked on Adamar. Once betrothed, that was it. Might as well have been married already.
Queen Ariad’s hand squeezed hers as she moved to sit up. She fell back a little and Alazne swiftly slipped an arm behind her back to help her. When the older woman smiled, Alazne could see so much of Zenon in her.
“I have something to show you.” The sickly woman struggled to get out of bed and Alazne helped her to her feet. Pointing, she said, “Help me get over there.”
She didn’t know what the Queen was pointing at. ‘Over there’ just looked like a big wall to her.
A painted portrait of Zenon in a white uniform hung there and she let her eyes linger as she helped Ariad walk step-by-step to the indicated spot. The artist didn’t get his eyes right. For some reason, they reminded her of that old desert hermit—
“He’s a handsome man, isn’t he?” Ariad said as they approached the wall.
“Who?” Alazne said.
“The man in the portrait.” The woman flashed a sidelong smile.
Knowing the protocol on her own world, she didn’t want to do or say anything inappropriate.
“You can say it,” the Queen nearly cackled.
Holding her by the arm as she slowly shuffled ahead, Alazne smiled, “Yes. He is a handsome man.”
“His son looks just like him,” she said.
His son? “You mean, that’s not Zenon?”
Queen Ariad was alive with mirth and something akin to pride. “Nope. That’s his father.”
She stared at the portrait as they moved. The man looked so much like Zenon, except for those strangely familiar eyes. She realized Zenon had his mother’s eyes.
The squirrel ran ahead of them, waiting by the wall under the portrait. Were the tufts of hair on the tips of the familiar’s ears swaying back a bit, away from the wall? That didn’t make sense. That was the opposite way the breeze was blowing in through the window—
As they reached the wall, Queen Ariad pressed her palm against the low-hanging portrait, right on the uniformed chest over the man’s heart. A click sounded from within the wall and Ariad dropped her hand.
The portrait swiveled upwards, revealing a hidden door that Alazne could only see because it was opening inwards into a dark room beyond. The squirrel darted inside, apparent motion sensors tripping on a soft yellow light.
She stood motionless as the Queen shuffled inside, mouth dropping open at the sight of potion bottles and vials of all sizes lining a far wall.
Ariad turned. “Well, come in, girl, before the door closes on you.”
The door creaked and she rushed into the room before it closed with an echoing thud.
The yellow light started to flicker as the queen slowly traversed the room, lighting candles along the way. Alazne followed, touching the tops of the bottles as she passed. A boline and an athame lay next to a bejeweled chalice. Old paper star charts were strewn across a table, a golden wand upon one marked “Healers found here.”
The existence of a room such as this meant only one thing—
“You’re a magic-user,” Alazne said. “But, Zenon, he doesn’t—”
“Believe in magic?” Ariad said. “No one in the Far Expanse does. Karr isn’t a place for witches.”
There weren’t any windows, but she saw the mountains in her mind’s eye, thought of all the birds at the bedside window, imagined the stags to be plentiful in the fields. “But this planet is so full of life. It’s the perfect place.”
“People here are not blessed with magic, so they believe it doesn’t exist.” Ariad waved a wrinkled hand in the air, the squirrel mimicking the movement with its front paw.
A smile danced across the Queen’s features. “But I know the truth. My great grandfather was from Adamar.”
Alazne choked. “You’re a descendant of Adamar?”
“Yup. He married the Queen of Karr and here we are.”
No wonder Zenon had such magical abilities.
A frown crossed Ariad’s taut features. “I did not know witches are being hunted. And for these so called ‘Hunters’ to set up operations in the Far Expanse—”
The Queen coughed, a barrage of choking and wheezing affecting her ability to stand. Alazne helped steady her on her feet.
“I didn’t know,” the older woman said through a hoarse voice. “I have the gift of foresight, but I didn’t foresee this. Magic used to be revered. What happened?”
Alazne didn’t know if the question was rhetorical, but she answered it anyway. “I don’t remember a time when magic was revered, not outside of Adamar and other magic-user communities. The Hunters fear magic. I don’t know why or what happened, but they’ve been hunting witches my whole life.”
Queen Ariad seemed to be in deep thought, eyes staring unfocused at the maps on the middle table. They darted to Alazne. “My son will see to it that the practice is stopped. We have a formidable fleet.”
If the ship on Hellumon was anything to go by, Alazne had no doubt that they did. Her heart soared at the words. Adamar was about to gain a grand ally. Witches across the universe would be able to live freely again.
But usually such an ally was gained through a unification of families, a marriage to strengthen the bond and rally the support of the population to help another. Her heart sank at the thought. How would the people of Karr go for such an arrangement without unification? Especially a people that didn’t even believe in magic to begin with?
The Queen went into another uncontrollable coughing fit. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her mouth, red stains visible on the cloth.
Oh no, Zenon was right in his urgency to get back to his mother. She was very sick. Was she going to die right now?
“I’m not sick,” Ariad said. “Just old.”
“Maybe we should call Jessa back,” Alazne said, head light with worry.
Queen Ariad waved a hand in the air again, movement on a far table catching her eye as the squirrel did the same.
“My illness cannot be cured,” Ariad said. “The doctors already know. Zenon just wouldn’t accept it, so it was easy to manipulate him into my plan.”
Alazne’s blood froze. She was simultaneously heartbroken for Zenon, curious, and outraged his mother would play into his feelings for some other gain.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” the Queen said. “But we
have the time we need.”
The squirrel ran circles around a great book that stood open on a raised alter.
“You see,” Ariad’s eyes reflected the flickering candles. “I sent Zenon on that chase to find his Lifemate.”
Alazne choked again, coughing wrenching her gut. Lifemate? Heart tightening with her stomach, she held back a tear. Zenon was going to make some woman very happy—
“Did he? Find his Lifemate?” she said, swallowing down the lump that formed in her throat.
“I knew in my gift of foresight that he would find his Lifemate if I sent him to find a Healer, so it satisfied both our needs,” the Queen shrugged. Then her sharp eyes came to laser focus, piercing Alazne’s soul. “Question is, did she find him?”
Holding that gaze a moment, Alazne looked at the floor. Was one of the witches from Hellumon Zenon’s mate? Joan, perhaps? The Water Witch beauty certainly took a liking to him, calling him ‘Light’ and apparently inspiring her to grow wings.
Queen Ariad seemed to be studying her. Then she waved a hand again, turning towards the squirrel and the big book. “Eh, he doesn’t know it, yet. Neither does she.”
Sadness watered Alazne’s eyes and tightened her throat even more, not because she wasn’t Zenon’s mate, but because both Zenon and Ariad were losing so much. Zenon was going to lose his mother no matter what, and Ariad wasn’t going to get to see her son find his Lifemate.
“First thing’s, first,” the older woman said conversationally, bending down to rummage through a box behind the pedestal the book and squirrel rested upon.
The Queen continued talking, but Alazne couldn’t tell what she was saying, bent away from her as she was. The squirrel watched her, but wasn’t repeating any of the words.
Approaching the stooping woman, she couldn’t keep her eyes from wondering over the book, an ancient leather-bound thing with drawings and flourishes on parchment.
A drawing of a squirrel that looked just like her familiar stopped her in her tracks. Bending closer, she read the words written there, “How To Enchant A Squirrel.”
It was a spellbook! One the Queen clearly utilized. The ingredients caught her eye next, just as Ariad stood up with a quart-size jar labeled “Moon Dust.” Smaller words in parentheses were scribbled “from Earth’s moon.”
Blinking, she said, “Is that really from Earth’s moon?”
Ariad held the jar up in the candlelight, arms shaking from the effort. “As far as I know.” She lowered it with a half-smile. “Lern got it for me.”
“Lern? From Lern’s World?” Alazne’s voice squeaked.
“It’s a long story, dear, but Lern always gives me what I need.” The candlelight flickered, a flame rising taller than the rest before settling down again.
Alazne could feel how wide her eyes were. If they got any bigger, she was sure they’d fall right out of their sockets. Who was that desert hermit, exactly?
Queen Ariad handed her the jar before reaching over the spellbook, the pages rustling as she turned them.
“The body will die, but the spirit will transfer,” Ariad said, pointing at the page the book was now on.
Alazne read the words the older woman just spoke, reading faster as she studied this next spell. It appeared to be the next step after enchanting the squirrel—
“You mean to transfer your spirit into the squirrel,” her voice sounded breathless, even to her ears.
“For a time,” Ariad said, voice dancing with sparkly eye. “At least the life of the squirrel. I’m not ready to move on just yet. I want to see my grand babies.”
Alazne’s eyes darted to the squirrel. Was the woodland creature okay with this? A spirit transfer meant death to the being the transfer was taking place.
I am fully aware of the consequences, the familiar’s voice sounded in her mind. But was it the squirrel talking or the witch queen?
It is the squirrel talking, the voice chuckled. My life was tied to hers as soon as I gave her permission to perform the enchantment. I will pass when she does, but my body is healthy. She may use it until it is spent.
In that moment, Alazne fully appreciated how Zenon must have felt when he learned about magic. This was all very strange, even for a witch.
Then sadness overcame her. The squirrel really was her familiar, enchanted as it was. With the transfer of the Queen’s spirit, it would cease to be. Her familiar would be gone.
“I will still be your familiar,” both the Queen and the squirrel said at the same time.
Alazne looked between the two, feeling more like Zenon by the second, skeptical as well as hopeful.
The Queen grinned, showing perfect teeth despite her age. “The magic is in the squirrel, so I will pass from being Queen of Karr to being Squirrel, Alazne’s Familiar.”
Alazne’s mouth fell open. “You want to be my familiar?”
A familiar was an important being, but a Queen who wanted such a role and for her?
“You are precious to me.” The older witch sounded as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “Besides, I’m tired of being Queen. Time to let Zenon take the reins.”
That last statement, Alazne could relate. The fatigue of royalty was something she understood all too well.
Acceptance weaved through her heart as she patted the squirrel’s head. Would the Queen be okay with her patting her head?
A chuckle sounded from beside her. “I am already tied to the squirrel, remember? I felt that and I’m okay with it.”
Yup, she could definitely imagine how Zenon must have felt. Weird stuff. What would he even think about all this?
Gaze dropping to the spellbook, she read through the instructions, eyes lingering on the passage that said, “Unlike the enchantment, a second magic-user must be present to ensure the spirit is transferred safely.”
Of all that was holy, she was the healer after all. The dying mother needed a witch to perform the ritual—
“But not right now,” Queen Ariad said. “I will still be here when you get back from Adamar.”
Alazne choked, heart seizing so tightly her lungs burned. The confines of the room felt like they were closing in. “Adamar? I’m not going to Adamar.”
“You are.” The air of authority in Ariad’s tone made her look years younger. “It is the final key to everything that has been set in motion. You will do this for Zenon.”
The final key? For Zenon? But the Queen was dying. She made it clear it would happen no matter what, that she was so sure of it she was having her spirit transferred—
The Queen’s eyes were steel, daring Alazne to argue. She wanted to argue, wanted to protest, wanted to open a portal and get lost forever. The Dead World was more desirable than returning to Adamar. But she was too stunned to say or do anything.
“Time for me to see Jessa,” Queen Ariad said. “And Alazne? Look at me, dear.”
She didn’t want to, but she forced her eyes to meet Ariad’s, steel replaced with a determination Alazne didn’t understand.
“Zenon must not know any of this. Not yet.”
Chapter 17
Alazne stared at the familiar on her lap, who stared back, eyes alight with a knowledge she wasn’t privy to. Filled with unease, she looked at the closed golden door to Queen Ariad’s bedroom suite.
Jessa had come when called and the witch queen had demanded that no one be in the room when Jessa examined her. It didn’t make sense. The doctors and the Queen herself already knew she was dying. What could Jessa do about it?
Zenon waltzed through the hallway with a smell of sandalwood riding a gust of air. Black hair neatly cropped, he wore a form-fitting navy blue uniform trimmed in red that accented his best features. Gaze wondering to his rear, her breath caught in her throat and she averted her eyes to the floor.
“Is Jessa here?” he said.
Jessa? Who the heck was Jessa? Alazne shook her head to clear her mind. Right, Jessa.
A slight weight shifting in her lap sobering her, Alazne replied. “Jess
a is with your mother, yes.”
“The Healer is going to make it right,” he said.
Alazne’s heart felt as if a boulder rested upon it. Jessa wasn’t. Nobody was.
The slight weight in her lap shifted again, little feet digging into her thighs.
This is what I want, Ariad, the familiar, said in her mind. Everything will be right. You’ll see.
Staring at the squirrel, her temples throbbed. This was a projection of Zenon’s mother and she couldn’t even tell him. Not only was he a powerful magic wielder, but his mother was a Witch of Adamar and he didn’t even know it.
And going back to Adamar was the worst thing that could happen to her. The life she created for herself would be over. How could everything be right? If her head didn’t explode from sheer anxiety, she was sure she’d lose the contents of her stomach any minute.
Zenon paced the floor, his hurried steps reflecting the turmoil inside her.
Then he was kneeling next to her, grasping her right hand between his. Blinking, she met his eyes, worry evident in those depths. She didn’t even notice him stop his pacing. Did she black out?
“Are you okay? You look pale.” He pressed his hand against her forehead.
The touch grounding her, warmth spread throughout her body, infusing her heart.
You will do this for Zenon, the mother queen had said. And she would. She’d do anything for Zenon.
Holding his gaze, he leaned forward and she closed her eyes, ready to feel his warm lips upon hers—
The doors to the bedroom suite creaked and her eyes fluttered open as Zenon jumped to his feet. Jessa walked into the hallway, the doors closing behind her.
“She wishes not to be disturbed,” Jessa said.
Zenon opened his mouth, taking a step towards the door, and the healer held up a hand. “She’s tired. She says she will speak with you when we get back from Adamar.”
“We are going to Adamar?” Zenon looked at Alazne, but she couldn’t meet his gaze.
“We are,” Jessa said. “Your mother needs Nora Potion. The only place I know to get it is Adamar.”
Alazne’s head snapped up. Nora Potion? Was that a needed ingredient for the spirit transfer? Why didn’t Ariad just tell her an ingredient was missing? She didn’t need to go to accompany Jessa and Zenon to Adamar for that. They could just go without—
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