by Beth Alvarez
Firal snorted. “And you think I will have dealings with you? After you stole into my home, murdered my stewardess, and kidnapped my daughter? After you took my husband captive?”
Envesi paused her advance and her pleasant expression faltered. “I realize you have many reasons to resent me, child. I am the first to admit I have much to atone for, in regards to you.”
“You have caused me nothing but pain.” Firal's words grew frosty and she lifted her chin. She peered down her nose at the woman, grateful the dais put them on eye level even though she was seated. Others would have supplicated themselves before the throne. She expected no such thing from the former Archmage. “Each time you have stepped into my life has caused me suffering. Speaking to you at all is more than you deserve.”
The snowy-haired woman sighed. “I am aware. Make no mistake, child, I appreciate your maturity in this. And I hope that in working together, you will come to realize your own value. That which, through my own shortcomings, I could never impart.”
Firal almost laughed. “Why would I ever work with you?”
“Whether you like it or not, dear girl, we are family.” Envesi inched forward again, one step at a time.
“You abandoned me as a child,” Firal spat.
“Is that how you see it?”
Anger bubbled up anew, threatening to spill over. “How I see it?” Firal half rose from her throne. “How I see it? I grew up thinking I had no family! That my parents left me in the temple, never caring that I existed! And yet all that time, you were just on the other side of a door. What else am I supposed to think?”
“It isn’t as it seems,” Envesi said. “You don’t know how I struggled.”
Firal stood and glowered down at her. “You were the Archmage of Elenhiise. I find it hard to believe you suffered at all.”
“Few of my choices were easy to make.” Envesi stopped at the foot of the dais and met her eyes without hesitation. “When you are fighting to change the world, every action must be considered. Life in the temple was the best I could offer you. The safest option. Somewhere you would be looked after, cared for and trained. Somewhere you could grow up in a world shaped to the ideals I always hoped for.”
“I grew up alone,” Firal retorted. “I spent every day believing I was worthless and unwanted.”
“Unwanted?” Envesi’s face crumpled and Firal was startled to realize the woman was genuinely distressed by the suggestion. “After all my effort? You have no idea how difficult you were to conceive.”
A crimson flush rose into Firal's cheeks.
“Did you think yourself an accident, girl? It took a year of effort before you were on your way. Your father was never an unpleasant man, but...” The former Archmage trailed off with a shudder. “I never connected with him in that way. But we all make sacrifices for what we desire.”
The anger within her fizzled and Firal hesitated. She’d never spoken to her mother beyond the demands of formality. And though their dealings had been unpleasant, part of her was still snared in the woman’s web, wishing for her words to be true. “You wanted to have me?” she asked, her voice barely above a murmur.
“Oh, dear child.” Envesi stepped onto the dais and reached to cradle Firal’s face in her scaly hands. “Of course I did. Never underestimate your importance. Your value. You were a vital part of my life.”
Hot tears pricked her eyes, but Firal ignored them. “Why didn’t you ever speak to me?”
“It was for the best,” Envesi said. “Better that the Masters keep you safe. My work has always been dangerous, but your presence meant a great deal.”
Firal bit her lip. A small flicker of hope rose within her. “Truly?”
“Of course.” Envesi’s snake-slitted eyes narrowed with her soft smile. “That way you could fulfill your purpose from behind the safety of the temple’s walls, and I could continue my work.”
Blinking twice, Firal tilted her head in her mother’s grasp. “My purpose?”
The former Archmage beamed. “Forging a link between the temple and the royal family, sweet girl. Without you, I never could have secured Kifel’s support.”
Firal pulled away as the tiny flame of hope died. All her life, she'd never been anything more than a tool for people to make use of. It was foolish to think—even for a moment—she might have meant something else. Years of hurt formed storm clouds in her eyes, the sting of tears fading as cool anger chilled emotion into stony resolve.
“I am not here for your convenience.” Firal's lip curled with distaste as she stepped backwards and squared her shoulders. Though Envesi stood several inches taller than she did, Firal had her throne behind her and her best mages at her back. She would not be intimidated. “If you think my only purpose is to give you easy access to Ilmenhith, then you're mistaken.”
Envesi regarded her with surprise, though it was fast and fleeting. Her luminescent blue eyes narrowed and her mouth pinched with sour disapproval. “I offer you a chance for cooperation. Don't be foolish enough to think you can stand against me.”
“Don't be arrogant enough to think you can offer me anything.”
The former Archmage barked a laugh. “You think your pitiful temple can change anything on its own? Magic will rot, crumbling like char and ash in their hands!”
“Better decay than corruption,” Firal replied dryly.
Envesi snarled and raised an arm to backhand her.
The blow never landed. A blast of energy lashed from behind the throne and flung the woman from the dais.
Shrieking in anger as she hit the floor, Envesi shot a glare full of hatred at her daughter. The air crackled with a swell of raw power, and the tainted Archmage's eyes darkened until they burned black.
24
Flight
“Lord Daemon.”
Rune hadn't gone far down the servant stairway before the call stopped him. He turned to look past a grumbling Garam, who lagged behind.
Tobias hurried down the staircase to join them, gripping his sword to keep it from knocking against the walls. Rune watched him with a frown. There was a hint of aggression in the way Tobias moved. Davan, the man's father, had been calm and stoic, erring on the gentle side. Tobias certainly looked like his father, but the longer Rune was around him, the less he thought them alike.
“Problem?” Garam asked. “Or did the queen decide one supervisor wouldn't be enough to manage him?”
“They went ahead. They're on the way to the throne room. I don't think they noticed me slipping away from the party. The mage from the temple said Envesi was coming to negotiate with Firal.”
Rune spat a curse and pushed past Tobias to make for the top of the stairwell.
Garam caught the hem of his coat. “Where are you going?”
Shaking his head, Rune snatched his coat out of his friend's grasp. “Envesi doesn't negotiate.”
Groaning, Garam hurried after him with Tobias close at his heels. “And what do you think you can do about it?”
Rune ignored the question. “Get to the throne room. Catch as many mages as you can on the way and send all of them there. Send servants for more.” He didn't wait long enough for the men to protest. Instead, he sprinted on down the hall alone.
His quarters were close, but he cursed every second it took to retrieve his sword. Each instant was one he didn't know if he could spare, each echoing footstep in the silent palace corridors reminding him how devoid of power he was.
Garam's words needled him in the man's absence. What could he do? A sword was all but useless against a mage, but it was the only thing he had. That and a tiny sliver of hope they might have enough mages in the palace to let him draw enough power to match Envesi. He clung to that sliver as he ran, his heart already in his throat. Alone, the mages couldn't hope to stand against the Archmage.
A flurry of blue-trimmed white robes spun around the corner ahead and darted into the throne room before him. Had Garam and Tobias sent them, or were they answering someone else’s call? He s
hook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn’t matter. If Kytenia and the others from the council chamber were there, maybe he’d have enough power for a shield. That was all he could hope to do—shield until they found a way to escape. The mages could open a Gate without him, help Firal get somewhere safe.
That her safety was still his first thought was like an untended wound, raw and aching. She hated him. She wanted nothing to do with him. And yet, as energy surged in the throne room, the fear he might already be too late froze his heart.
He’d dodged the main walkway and emerged below the twin staircases that curved up to the second floor.
Firal stood before the throne. Kytenia, Rikka, and Temar stood behind her, Rikka with her hand extended. Power still swirled from her fingertips, invisible but making his senses tingle.
Before them, the Archmage staggered back to her feet. She shrieked in rage and her eyes filled with the void black of pure power he’d seen only once before. Envesi raised her hand.
Surging past the mages, Rune threw himself between Firal and the former Archmage to strike the woman’s arm from underneath. A shockwave of pure white energy fired from her fingers and lanced through the ceiling with a crash.
“Link!” he roared.
Envesi snarled and twisted away, her hand whipping up to aim another blast. Then she saw him, and she froze. “You,” she breathed. “I thought they killed you.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Rune spun his blade in hand and leveled its tip with her throat. His eyes darted away, searching for the mages. They clustered to the right of the throne. One of them pulled Firal to the side. A shift in the flows made his skin prickle, a familiar signal they were heeding his command.
A handful of mages joined the knot of power from somewhere behind him. Not enough, he noted with a grimace. There were no more mages present than the few he'd seen in the hallways.
Envesi’s eyes narrowed, their impossible dark light fading. “What have you done?” she mused. “I didn’t feel you here. How can you mask your Gift so efficiently?”
He felt her probe at him, a tendril of her energy coiling around him like a slimy eel. He drew from his own reserves and erected a shield to keep her from searching any deeper.
She made a small sound of surprise. “You’ve had a teacher.”
“Many.” He adjusted his grip on his sword and caught himself before his eyes wandered from her face. He couldn’t allow himself to be surprised, no matter what had changed. No matter what she’d done.
Her lip curled in distaste. “No matter what they taught you, you can’t believe you stand any chance against me.”
Rune didn’t reply, rooted in place between the Archmage and Firal with his sword ready.
Barking a laugh into the silence, Envesi raised her hand again. She drew flows from everywhere around her. “Move, boy. You’re useful yet, but I’ve no need for the rest.”
“Kytenia—” Rune started.
One of the mages behind the throne screamed and fell to the floor. Her eyes blistered and blackened in their sockets. Smoke poured from her mouth and nostrils as her body convulsed.
A wave of power emanated from Kytenia and the knot of mages. It came too late to heal her. The woman’s presence winked out just before she crumbled to ash within her pristine white robes.
Rune spat a curse and lunged forward.
The Archmage moved, but not fast enough. The blade’s edge sliced along her cheekbone and through her pointed ear. Envesi screeched and reeled back as she clapped a white-scaled hand to her face. Black blood dribbled on the shoulder of her white gown and bright crimson light flooded her serpentine eyes.
He twirled away in one step and brought his sword back around in the second.
Sparks burst around the blade as it struck an invisible barrier. Numbing quakes shot up his arms and yielded another curse. “Kyt!” He staggered back, shooting a glance over his shoulder. He dared no more than that, the air around him humming with energy as the Archmage called it again.
Already Kytenia’s hands moved in a familiar pattern, the gestures most mages relied on to open Gates. But she stopped short of opening it and met his eyes with a panicked look.
They had nowhere to go. The temple, the Eldani cities, even the Grand College on the mainland—where could they go that Envesi couldn’t follow?
Rune spun back just in time to duck a searing burst of energy shot from Envesi’s palm. He grimaced as his knees hit the floor. Magic swelled everywhere, the flows as tangled as loose threads in the air. He dropped his shield and opened his senses to the full force of the magic around him. “Link!” he yelled again as he slid off the dais and sprinted a few steps away. Without a connection to the other mages, he was all but defenseless, but he still took a stance and readied his sword.
The mages couldn’t move fast enough. A tentative stream of energy flowed toward him. Before he could grasp it, Envesi fired a second blast.
Unable to escape, Rune swung at it with his sword. Wild magic crackled like a lightning bolt as it struck the blade, skirted up its edge and streaked from its tip to shatter the stained glass windows overlooking the throne. A sound like thunder exploded through the palace, ringing in his ears and shaking him to the core. All across the dais, mages fell. Only he and Envesi remained standing.
Power pushed toward him again. This time, he caught hold of it. Pure, sweet magic rushed into him, stole his breath and bound him to the mages. “Give me lead!” He barely heard his own voice over the whine in his ears, but it tore from his throat so forcefully the others had to hear.
Several paces away, Firal climbed to her feet among shards of broken glass.
Rune's eyes flicked in her direction.
Envesi caught his line of sight and turned toward her.
No. A pang of terror drove his heart into his throat. He clawed at the magic the mages had offered. It lurched against his hold. It wasn't enough. It couldn't be. Desperate, he tore himself free of the connection and pushed outward with his own energy to snare whatever magic he could.
They caught.
Pure access to the flows hit him like a tidal wave. Pain blossomed in every inch of his body as the seal on his magic reacted. Slivers of glass tore through the scales on his feet as he bolted across the throne room to dive for Firal.
Another burst of energy came from behind him.
He pushed past the pain, reaching farther into the chaos than he ever had.
The sizzling, white-hot light of an opening Gate answered his call.
25
Landing
They hit the ground and rolled twice before Firal separated herself from the tangle of limbs. Rune came to a stop a short distance away and made it onto all fours before he emptied his stomach into the grass.
Firal tried to shut out the sound.
Garam strode forward from somewhere behind them to kneel at Rune's side and offer help. Rune waved him away and collapsed onto his side when his dry heaving subsided. Then he rolled onto his back, his face wrenched with pain. A streak of black blood marked his lip where he'd wiped a trickle from his nose.
“What was that?” Kytenia stumbled toward Firal with her arms spread, struggling to retain her balance.
Firal blinked at her and turned. All around her, people clambered to their feet. Rikka brushed dirt from her knees while behind her, Ordin helped Temar rise. The two other mages from the throne room—Kella and Asula, both court mages—stood together and stared at the ground, dazed.
Anaide was there too, though she sat on the grass and trembled so hard, Firal didn't think she could have found her feet if she wanted to.
None of them had been close enough to make it through that Gate.
“You must have a death wish.” Garam scowled, but his hand rested on Rune's shoulder. As angry as he appeared, his tone was pure concern. “You're not supposed to be working with magic at all.”
Rune grunted, one hand draped over his eyes. “Didn't have many options. Tobias?”
“He
wasn't there. Said he had to get someone out of the palace, never even came close to the throne room.” Garam surveyed the group and frowned. “What did you do?”
“Don’t know.” Rune stayed still, his voice strained. “Tends to happen to me under pressure.”
“Gating, nothing unusual about it,” Anaide said. Despite her trembling, she sounded calm. Her hands clasped in her lap and pressed down into her skirts to still her shakes. “Though I’ve never seen it used in quite that fashion before. We’ve always assumed that a Gate opening on top of a person would kill them.”
Kytenia gave a humorless laugh. “And it might have, if they hadn’t opened to exactly our sizes. Nearly ten Gates, all at once. If that’s what you do under pressure, I’d be terrified to see what you can do when you’re actually focused on your magic.”
“You should be,” Garam said. “It’s a scary thing.”
Rune only groaned.
Firal turned in a slow circle, trying to gain her bearings. Nothing about the landscape was familiar. Thick grass cushioned their landing spot, a small clearing where wildflowers in shades of yellow and white danced in the cool summer breeze. Trees in shapes she’d never seen before towered above them, the air fragrant and fresh and altogether too dry. There was no tropical humidity, the first clue that wherever they’d landed, it wasn’t on the island. Her stomach turned. “Where are we?”
The others blinked and looked around as if just realizing they were outside the palace.
“Is this...?” Garam trailed off.
“The first place I thought of,” Rune said. He gasped for breath as he pushed himself to sitting and pressed a hand to his head. Another thick, black droplet rolled free from his nose and he swiped it away with the side of his palm. “Somewhere she can’t find us.”