by Beth Alvarez
“You told me you didn’t have children,” Garam said. “I remember. I asked, when we were in Aldaan that first time.”
“I know.” Rune cradled his glass, turned it and watched its contents swirl. “Didn’t think I could.”
That was an odd thing to say. “I thought you weren’t married long before...” Garam trailed off and cast a glance toward the scullery maids.
Rune followed his gaze and lowered his voice, even though they spoke in the trade tongue. A good precaution; one never knew who might be listening. “I wasn’t.” He took another drink, licked his lips and mulled his words over before he went on. “There was someone else. Before I married.”
Garam nodded. “Not surprising, given your station.”
“The reasons aren’t important,” Rune muttered. “It went on for some time, but nothing came of it. For a time I thought she kept it that way on purpose, taking something to prevent...” He trailed off and shook his head. “But it didn’t make sense. For one, we were in an isolated area, with an isolated group of people. She didn't have access to those things. And for another, having my child would have put her in a position where she could claim a right of inheritance, giving her access to my father's holdings.”
“But there was no child,” Garam concluded.
Nodding, Rune continued. “I asked a Master who specialized in healing about it once. There was no way to test, really, but she said it was unlikely I'd ever have a normal life. I was a sickly child, I suppose because of the magic, so it seemed more likely to be me than her.”
“I’m guessing you never asked her.”
“No. Honestly, if the thought of having a child with me hadn't occurred to her, I didn't want to put it in her head.” He sounded remorseful and more than a little sheepish as he stared into his cup.
“I can understand your doubt, then.” Lacing his fingers together, Garam rested his hands against the edge of the table and wet his lips. “But the queen's not lying to you.”
Rune peered at him from beneath knit brows. “What makes you think that?”
Garam frowned, his eyes drifting to the glass in his friend’s clawed hand. It was almost empty again. “I spoke to Firal,” he said in a hushed tone, mindful of the ears behind them. “It’s not just your eyes the girl inherited, and I’d swear on my honor that’s why she was taken. She has your magic, too.”
Rune cursed again, louder. The maids at the back of the kitchen grew quiet.
“When you were looking for the Aldaanan, what did you find?” Garam leaned forward. “Everywhere you went, signs of magic, signs of something wrong. You know what’s happening as well as I do. You suspected it, but you didn’t want to say anything. The Aldaanan aren’t just missing, are they?”
“I never said they were missing.” Rune tossed back the last of his liquor and slammed his glass back onto the table. “I said what I was looking for didn’t exist.”
This time, Garam was the one who swore. “And you never thought to tell anyone they’re dead?”
“What does it matter? The college mages hate them, Vicamros and his father barely tolerated them. No matter how strong Envesi is, even if she were able to rival me, she’s still just one mage. The Aldaanan didn’t travel alone.”
“What are you saying?”
Rune scoffed and turned away. “If the Aldaanan are dead, it’s because they chose not to fight. Even knowing they would die.”
Garam eased back in his chair and stared at him in disbelief. “Why would they allow that?”
His companion didn’t reply. In that silence, a great deal of what had transpired in the past several days made more sense.
“You never had a plan to escape, did you?” Garam asked softly. “You came here because there’s no one left to unseal and cleanse your power.”
Rune shrugged, his eyes lowered. “An honorable death is better than a cursed life.”
“Being hung for treason is hardly an honorable death.”
“It is when it’s unjustified, but you allow it to happen for the sake of the place you call home.” Rune shook his head. “If Vicamros had refused to turn me over, it would have crippled the Triad’s economy. They’ve come to rely on Elenhiise too much.”
“No one should die for politics,” Garam said.
Rune snorted a laugh. “Pretty funny, coming from a soldier.”
Garam didn’t share his amusement. “Well, I’m finding that opinions change a good deal once you start getting old. The workings of the world seem different when it’s your children and grandchildren in the gears instead of you.”
Rune grew solemn, staring at his empty glass.
“Talk to me,” Garam said.
“About what?” Rune shoved the glass away. “About how all of a sudden, everything is different? About having a purpose and a meaning? It doesn’t work like that. This isn’t one of Rhyllyn’s ballads. I’ve been pulled out of everything I knew, everything I’ve come to love, only to be sent up against someone who’s obviously powerful enough to kill free mages. All for the sake of a daughter I didn’t know I had. I’ve never met her, never seen her face, I don’t even know her name! What am I supposed to feel?”
Garam pushed himself up from his chair and pretended he didn’t need the extra support from the table. “Don’t know. I’m not you. But if you came here to die anyway, maybe going out as a valiant hero wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Where are you going?” Rune asked.
“Upstairs. I need to talk to some mages about what’s going on. From the sound of those girls back there and considering the rumors you’ve already got going, the princess's magic won’t be a secret for long.” Garam took a few steps toward the stairs and paused. “The Uncrowned Prince, huh?”
Rune lifted a brow. A faint hint of amusement sparked in his snakelike eyes. “Is that what they call me now?”
“One version of you. I’m starting to think I don’t know you near as well as I thought I did.”
“Today’s making me think I don’t know myself so well, either,” Rune muttered. He rose and slapped Garam’s shoulder as he moved past him onto the stairs. “Do me a favor and ask one of those girls to send a drink to my room in a few minutes.”
Garam nodded. “Whiskey?”
“See?” Rune smirked, though a shadow lingered in his expression. “You know me plenty well.”
15
New ways
Vahn fell to his knees, gulping back tears of relief and elation as Lulu threw herself into his arms. He cradled the girl close and breathed her in as he pressed kisses to her temples and her ebony hair. She squealed and grinned, patting his face with her chubby hands. Only after he kissed each of her fingertips did he finally lift his head to look at the woman in the center of the room.
He had only laid eyes on the Archmage of Elenhiise a handful of times, the last being just before he descended into Ilmenhith's dungeons to free his dearest friend. Not even an hour after he'd seen her crossing the courtyard with Relythes, she'd been banished and removed from the island. He'd only gotten a glimpse then. If her face hadn't been burned into memory by the events that transpired that day, he never would have known this was the same woman.
Envesi's face was as stern and cold as ever, and her hair was the same cascade of snowy curls. Her eyes were still clear, frigid blue, but now they shone with an unnatural light. As she looked at him, her pupils thinned to vertical slits, much like those of a snake.
“Welcome, young king. She's been pleasant, though she does ask for you often. Her mother, as well.” Envesi strolled forward with a leisurely sway and, for a moment, the way she moved reminded him of Firal. With as different as the two of them were, it was difficult to remember the two of them were related.
She wore a white gown, rather than a robe, with the skirt slit to the thigh. Pearlescent white scales shimmered on her lower legs as she walked, and her three long, clawed toes splayed gracefully against the colorful carpet. Yet even stranger than her transformation was that she appeared yo
unger than he remembered, as if her new form had revitalized her.
Vahn scooped his daughter into his arms and slowly stood. He wanted to speak, but he had no words. Instead he found himself staring at the woman's feet. It shouldn't have jarred him so badly. He'd seen the same features growing up alongside Ran, and the man had been his best friend. But this was different. It had to be. She'd done this to herself, twisted her own form for the sake of greater magic.
“Don't be so frightened, boy.” The former Archmage stopped a few paces away and smirked. Despite her small stature, she made an imposing figure. “I believe Shymin was right to suggest we bring you, but I'm afraid you cannot stay long. I have important matters for you to attend.”
Hugging Lulu to his chest, he took a half step back. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I won't keep you away from her, don't worry.” She waved a clawed hand. “I trust my mages have informed you what we are doing here?”
All he could manage was a nod.
“Then you know how important it is for us to win the temple over. Shymin is doing her part, and quite admirably, but we need greater leverage. We need you.”
Confusion rolled through him, then bled away as anger swelled to take its place. “You kidnapped my daughter. You kidnapped me. You've taken over half the island and have a king working for you in his own palace. Why would I help you?”
Envesi chuckled. “Because you're smart, boy. Because you're angry, but you know that your father is too wise a man to be led astray. If he stands behind me, then you know you must. No matter how angry you may be.”
Scowling, Vahn took another step away. “I'm not a puppet or a follower. My father helped you try to destroy my family. Why would I trust his judgment?”
Her face darkened. “Because in opening the island, you have exposed us. Doomed us. I know you believe forging ties with the north was the best thing you could do, and I forgive you for not knowing better. But I cannot forgive the mages who replaced me, who preside over my temple, who defy the very purpose of the temple's founding.”
“Preservation of magic?” He couldn't keep the edge from his voice. He wanted to trust Shymin, but that meant believing what she'd said about Kirban Temple being the last bastion that could save magecraft. How could he believe that when their contact with the mainland was filtered through another school of mages, one older than the temple?
“Elenhiise was a haven, boy. A shelter for mages to thrive, so we could repopulate the world.” Envesi laced her clawed fingers together behind her back and paced toward the low couches. “The old blood runs strong here. Kirban Temple has trained thousands of mages, and every one of them has provided a useful service to the island's people. In creating a culture that prized magic instead of reviling it, I ensured people would see the value in sending their children to me. Mages bore children sired by other mages for the first time in centuries. The mages on Elenhiise, the mages of Kirban, outnumber all the mages in the rest of the world combined.”
Lulu patted his face, begging for attention. Vahn glanced down at her, troubled, and smoothed the girl's hair with one hand. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the world doesn't share our values, and our way of life must be preserved. They seek to eradicate magic. They will not allow our sheltered population of mages to exist in peace. A war is coming and we are in need of allies.” She sat on the edge of a couch and drew one knee over the other, exposing an indecent amount of thigh.
Vahn tore his eyes away, uncomfortable. How could this be the same woman? He was sure she'd had wrinkles around her eyes and age spots on her hands when she was exiled. A far cry from the womanly figure before him, who seemed no older than Firal.
“Of course,” Envesi continued, resting a claw against her cheek, “I mean no harm to your little kingdom, or the temple. Both will be allowed to operate as they please, as long as my needs are met. I can also promise that your cooperation will make life more pleasant for everyone. A gift, perhaps, or an act of service to aid you. Tidings of my goodwill.” Her snakelike blue eyes drifted to the girl in his arms. “Perhaps an addition to your family would be well received.”
His mouth fell open. “How did you—”
“Your Master of Healing is assisting me. One of the first questions she asked was how to treat secondary infertility. I am aware of your struggles, young king, and while I am sure they've told you the issue is not uncommon, I am equally sure they don't know how to address it.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Do not forget that I am an unparalleled healer. More talented than any I've ever encountered, and capable of correcting sickness of both body and mind.”
A child of his own. He hugged Lulu close, savoring her presence. He loved the girl more than words could express, loved her as well as if she'd been his own child, but the jealousy that he would never share a blood connection with his wife had always simmered beneath the surface. Not against the girl, but against her father, absent after the storm he'd created. Ran had a year worth of chances, opportunities to return and claim responsibility for everything he'd done. How could Vahn feel anything but jealousy and resentment when the man had tried to resurface a single day after Firal had chosen a new path?
But to think of a growing family. A brother or sister for Lulu. A blood bond to finally cement all of them together, creating a link between him and Firal and the girl he'd raised as his own.
Vahn had given up on the idea of more children long ago, after every mage on Elenhiise with a healing affinity had inspected Firal and concluded there was nothing they could do to help. More than one mage had told him Nondar would have had the skill needed to treat her, but Nondar had passed long before they'd had any clue it was an issue.
A tempting offer, one that tugged at his heart. Had it been any other mage in front of him, he would have leaped at the opportunity.
Yet did he have a choice? Vahn had no Gift, no way to stand against this woman, and he suspected she wouldn't take no for an answer. That she knew his deepest desires at least gave him a way forward.
Vahn kissed his daughter's temple and crept forward to sit across from the white-haired mage. “Tell me about what you're trying to achieve, and what you need to make it happen.”
She quirked a brow and smirked. “Caught your attention, did I?”
“I won't make any promises,” he said, raising a finger in warning. “But it's always possible that an agreement might be arranged.”
“Very well, child.” She stretched, draped an arm across the back of the couch, and sighed. “Where to begin...”
No one stopped Rune from emptying his assigned quarters and making off on his own. There were few things in his temporary room, but he wasn't about to leave anything behind. He heard guards following him, though they gave him a wide berth. They peered around corners to see where he was headed, but let him carry on. Rune found it amusing. He didn't intend to leave the palace. Perhaps that he headed deeper into the maze of hallways made them feel more at ease.
They seemed somewhat confused when he stopped by Garam's quarters, likely because the man wasn't there. But Rune didn't need to speak to him to recover the rest of his belongings. He didn't have to search long before he found his sword and added it to the collection of things he carried beneath his arm. He kept it wrapped for now; he didn't need any fuss over whose it was, but he wasn't about to let the blade slip out of his possession again. The thought conjured memories of his first meeting with Garam and he fought a smirk. The captain had mistaken the sword for stolen, setting off the whirlwind of events that thoroughly tangled Rune in northern politics.
At first, he'd doubted whether it was wise to bring it. Wrapping the blade and stashing it with Garam's things had been the best solution. It was there if he needed it, but hidden from sight until the time came. Were things to go sour, it would be easy for Garam to take the kingsword and return to the Triad with it. Arrick and Redoram could study the blade, then pass it on to Rhyllyn as part of the grand estate left behind. A dismal thought,
but necessary in times like these.
Rune climbed another flight of stairs at a leisurely pace, taking in the small changes around the palace as he walked. The guards eventually lost interest in his meandering, and his entourage dwindled to a single follower for a time. Then he gave up as well, leaving Rune in peace.
Even alone, he didn't rush. There were new paintings, sculptures, tapestries and vases to admire, all riches brought by the increased trade with the mainland. Some rooms had been plastered and painted and were no longer the cold stone he remembered, but otherwise, little had changed.
“Ran,” a voice behind him called.
Rune stopped and turned back.
Ordin Straes strode up the hallway toward him. The man slowed as he neared, regarding Rune with apprehension.
Rune raised a brow and looked at him expectantly.
“Lifetree's mercy,” the Captain of the Guard breathed after a moment, and wiped his face with one hand. “It is you.”
“Good to see you too, Captain.” Rune shifted the bundle under his arm and offered his hand.
Ordin studied his claws for a long time before he shook his head and drew back, his face pinched with distress. “What happened to you?”
“That's a complicated story.” Tipping his head toward the end of the hallway, Rune started off again. “Walk with me.”
The captain fell in step beside him, staring straight ahead. “They said you were dead, you know.”
“I imagine that would be a common belief, given how long I've been gone.” Rune couldn't help a smirk of amusement. Was the man here because of the rumors already crawling through the palace, or because he'd figured things out on his own? The latter seemed more likely, but Rune wasn't about to ask. Rumors were most useful if no one knew where they started. Especially since that meant the creator could hide behind anonymity if something went wrong.
Ordin's jaw tightened. “I owe you an apology.”
Rune blinked at him. “For what?”