“And not too far removed from that pitiful orphan child you raised.”
“Now you're feeling sorry for yourself.” Rosanna shook a finger in my face. “You weren't a nameless orphan. I knew your parents and raised you as one of my own wild brood, young lady. Until the day he died, Jules' father felt the same. We loved and disciplined you as though you were blood kin to Jules and Khrista. Very willingly.”
“I know,” I whispered, looking away in embarrassment as I fought the memories which stubbornly crept back into my awareness. “I've always been grateful.”
She sighed irritably. “You're trying my patience.”
Confused, I looked up, caught by surprise at the tears in her eyes.
“I don't ever want to hear how grateful you are. You should know that by now. Those are words I'd expect from a courteous stranger for hospitality. You're family. My family. And it will always be that way.” Rosanna scowled, more perturbed than I'd seen her in a long while. “I know that's why you sometimes stay away. I just wish you'd stop being so needlessly independent. It isn't something new. You're twenty-five years old, Alex, but sometimes I make the mistake of thinking you're an adult.”
I answered her accusations in the only way I could, straining to keep my expression neutral. “But that means I'm kin to your son. And if you think I'll claim kinship with that sneaky, monstrous, idiotic excuse for a duke,” I started to grin, “then I'd rather have been raised by a seawitch.”
She smiled back, fully aware I sidestepped dangerous ground, and reached out to keep me seated as I went to grab my boots. “You're avoiding the point of this conversation.”
I sagged back against the embroidered pillows in defeat. “Maybe I was raised by a seawitch.”
“You came to see me, remember?”
“To complain about your son, remember?” Crossing my legs and tucking bare feet back underneath, I drained my glass.
“Listen.” Rosanna paused, choosing her words with care. “The lords of the elements grant mage talent where they will. Power over fire, air, water, earth, wherever and however they see fit. If you're lucky to have any talent, whether it's in leather crafting or mage skills, or gardening, though everyone knows you've none of that,” she said dryly, “it's wrong to ignore it.”
I clenched my fists in my lap. “If a person has it.”
“Yes. No matter how little or great that talent might appear. And it's just as wrong,” she added firmly, “to not even try to uncover whatever talent you may have, regardless of its unconventional nature.”
I grabbed my boots and stuffed my feet into the worn leather. “It's just as wrong to almost destroy someone with uncontrollable talent.”
“True.”
I glanced up suspiciously to find her staring at me, gray head leaning back against the padded armchair.
“And even more wrong to run away from it when you could learn to control it. But you're afraid.” Her gaze was serene, her challenge blatant.
I tucked my woolen trousers snugly into my boots as fast as my shaking fingers allowed and walked toward the oak door and freedom. “Thanks for the wine.”
“Alex—”
One hand resting against the smooth wood, my back to Rosanna, I whispered, “You're so sure of yourself.” Turning to face her, I was immediately sorry at the sight of her troubled expression. Haunted, almost.
I did the only sensible thing. I fled.
* * * *
“Jules lied to me.” Lauryn cornered me in my cottage later that afternoon.
“About?” I paused, holding the teakettle in mid-air, one eye warily on my friend’s deep scowl.
“Don’t play innocent. Jules confessed he and Elena came down here in the middle of the night. Or did he lie about that, too?” Lauryn’s expression shifted subtly from anger to pain, at the thought of Jules’ possible betrayal.
“No. They woke me up. I didn’t think Elena wanted anyone to know. I wasn’t even sure she’d taken the time to see Brendan.”
“I knew his quick departure was suspicious.”
“Don’t tell him. The poor boy will be devastated.” When Lauryn remained silent, I sighed with remorse. “Listen, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you for lying.”
“Why not?” I remembered the tea kettle in my hand and poured us both a cup. “I didn’t tell you Elena visited either.”
Lauryn accepted the offering and sat in one of the armchairs. “Elena wanted her visit kept quiet.”
“So why be angry at Jules?”
“Because he still loves her.”
Damn. Damn. Damn. “He married you.”
“She wouldn’t have him.”
“He loves you. Don’t deny he loves you.”
Lauryn set her teacup aside and started to leave, but I grabbed the sleeve of her simple wool dress and held her back.
“He does love you.”
Slowly, she nodded. “I know he does. I do, Alex,” she hastened to reassure me. “But he’ll never get over Elena. And it’s not her fault. She can’t help being aware of his desire any more than I can.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Lauryn laughed, sadness etched on her face. “There’s no escaping the truth, Alex. You, of all people, should know that by now.”
Chapter Three
Idiotic, really, to think I could escape. I knew better. The dreams abandoned me for three nights. Instead of catching some rest, I avoided sleeping. I’ll admit it. I was afraid. The fourth night, smugly thinking myself safe, I threw aside the children's lessons I'd been preparing, and crawled under my wool blankets exhausted, grateful, and naive.
And very flameblasted sorry.
The dream jolted me awake well before dawn, soaked in sweat and tears, with echoes of the scream lingering in my head. By the time I managed to still my trembling limbs and calm my heart, the sun had risen. The bright rays of light streaked through the window of the bedroom and nearly blinded me.
I needed to leave the confines of the cottage, though had no clear destination in mind. If I wandered north for about half a mile along the cleared forest path to the Hill overlooking the harbor, I'd find myself at Rosanna's turret. After our recent conversation, that option was out of the question. Wandering south about a mile along the same cleared forest path led to the port itself. East or west, I'd wander aimlessly through woods and fields. What I needed, or convinced myself anyway, was the calming breeze of Shad's Bay against my skin, ruffling my hair free, soothing my hurts and craftily painting an illusion of normalcy.
An impossible task.
Tugging on a comfortable, baggy woven tunic, trousers, and light woolen cloak, all in mismatched shades of blue and green, I grabbed some coins and made my way south along the forest path.
Jules' father, the old duke, set his laborers to clear the path for me, north and south, when I'd announced my rebellious plans to move to the old abandoned cottage in the forest some seven years past. Before his regrettable death, he made sure the cottage was sturdy and as new as his laborers could make it, with never a word of regret or admonishment. The old man instinctively knew I needed to find my own way, though Rosanna never forgave him completely for not discouraging me.
My suggestion I earn my keep for all they'd done saddened her. She relented and pushed aside her regrets, which were only for the demons tearing at my heart, and gave her blessing for the schoolroom. Setting his laborers busy again, the old duke made sure the schoolroom matched the cottage in sturdiness and comfort. It was the only time he scolded me, insisting he'd converted the unused space only to make me happy. He never took a single coin. I still missed him.
Wiping away traitorous tears, I tripped over a fallen branch. Swearing viciously, I shoved aside those memories and concentrated on the leaf-strewn path ahead. It was early, the air cool and crisp. Glad for my woolen cloak, I set a fair pace to warm my chilled bones and reached the outskirts of town before very long. The shopkeepers, many of whose children I'd taught, greeted me with
a wave or sleepy nod. Several three-masted trading ships had recently arrived from Belbridge Cliffs up the east coast and Bitterhill toward the west. There was also a pair from Meravan, south beyond Shad's Bay, some days’ travel across the Skandar Sea.
Arriving within smelling distance of the bakeshop, I inhaled the rich, sweet aroma of fresh-baked loaves of brushed oats and apple muffins. Jan's pudgy, flour-sprinkled face smiled a greeting and pressed a half loaf of brushed oats into my hands, refusing payment. Nibbling absently at a small piece I'd broken off, I wandered through the streets until I stood uneasily opposite the large stone building set in the center of the port's activity.
The one building I was determined to avoid. Port Alain's own Mage Council Hall, the duchy's gathering point for mages with any of the four elemental talents.
Unsure of my motivation, I sat on the low, rough seawall that lined the coast road for miles east and west of the harbor, thinking. My mother, a seamage, despised the council for their political posturing and blatant push for power by advising Tuldamoran nobles. There'd always been renegades who rebelled against their hypocrisy. My mother had been one of the more well-known rogues, a fact that never quite reconciled the Port Alain council to my presence, no matter how harmless I might appear.
“You don't typically hang around this part of town, Mistress Keltie.”
I slowly turned my head, surprised to see Neal Brandt, seamage and chief of the Port Alain council, standing at my side, arms tucked beneath his wool cloak. I blinked. “Pardon me?”
The elderly man, mage pendant sparkling in the sunlight, narrowed his eyes. “Thinking about joining us?”
I studied the tidal crest etched on the copper pendant. “I have no reason to.”
“Your mother—”
“Never passed on her talent.” I shrugged. “Selfish, don't you think?”
“Indeed.” The mage leaned over and scooped up a handful of stagnant water from a shallow puddle left over from an earlier rainstorm. Holding the water cupped in his palm, he smiled benevolently as the liquid evaporated.
“Lovely trick.”
He didn’t blink, bent again to scoop another handful of water, and held it out to me. “Care to try? It may turn to fire in my hand if you do.”
“I doubt it, Mage Brandt.”
“Do try.”
“I’d only disappoint you.”
“Surely if your mother were alive—”
“She wouldn’t even waste time speaking to you.” I returned to my breakfast, ignoring the mage, and privately amazed at my boldness.
“Should you find yourself with unexpected talent, do call on me.” His smile was predatory as he brushed off my rude remark. “I'd be delighted to teach you.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
“Do.” He nodded, heading toward the hall where he vanished inside.
“Interesting choice of companion, Mistress Keltie,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear. “Or are you spying for me?”
Startled, I nearly dropped the nibbled loaf of brushed oats at the sound of Jules' amused voice. Annoyed he’d managed to sneak up on me, I slanted the duke a dark, menacing look, holding out the loaf. “Care to join me?”
“As long as you're in a pleasant, generous mood.” He broke a sizable chunk from the loaf and handed the rest to me, taking a seat on the seawall. Tucking long legs beneath him, Jules opened his cloak to catch the early sun's warmth and smiled. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you spying for me? Or betraying me to Seamage Brandt?”
“I came to Port Alain specifically to avoid you.”
“Oh.” He took a bite. “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking not the least bit apologetic.
“Why are you in town so early?” I asked, munching contentedly on the brushed oats, gazing out across the bay already filled with sails, catching the early tide and buoyant breeze. Bright-hued merchant sails broke the monotony of the fishermen's white canvas, crisscrossing paths along the bay.
“I have an appointment with the Darby Trading Company and thought I’d be considerate and meet them in town rather than on the Hill.”
“Keeping close ties to your people, my lord, to inspire trust and confidence?” I asked dryly.
“Sure.”
“You'd better try harder.”
“You haven't a drop of respect in your veins. But listen, I hear there's a handsome new captain working for Darby, and—” When I tried to snatch the loaf from his hands, Jules pulled away, laughing as he bit off another piece of bread. “With all this nonsense of Elena's, I thought to see if there were newer rumors of any peculiar Meravan behavior here or up the coast.”
“Ah.” I squinted as the sun glimmered on the water. “Spying.”
“Someone has to do it, since you're being so damnably difficult.” He reached out to grab another chunk from the little remaining of my half.
I snatched it out of reach. “Why am I being so damnably difficult? Because I've disappointed you? Damn it, Jules, I'm sorry I don't have the least bit of mage talent to help you in whatever manner you and our glorious monarch have imagined, but there's nothing I can do!”
Jules nimbly caught the edge of my cloak as I jumped from the seawall and held me back. “Have you ever tried to tap into the talent again?”
I yanked my cloak from his fingers. “Yes. Ten years ago. Nothing happened. Jules, I don't know what to do or say to convince you and Elena. Nothing happened. I can't do a flameblasted trick or even feel any inkling of mage talent inside me.”
“That was ten years ago.”
“It could just as well have been yesterday.”
“All right.” He shrugged casually. Too casually. “You don't have to say anymore. I believe you.”
“You are such a liar.” I stared at Jules until he blushed and turned away, gazing seaward, eyes following the graceful flight of scattered seagulls. “Speaking of lies, why didn’t you tell Lauryn Elena delivered the message in person?”
Jules winced, face still averted. “She came to see you?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Elena didn’t have a lot of time. She didn’t want Lauryn or my mother going to any trouble playing hostess.”
“Why not tell your wife what you just told me?”
Jules shrugged sheepishly. “It was a mistake.”
“It was a stupid mistake.”
Cool breeze ruffled his light brown hair, blowing it back from his handsome face. “What did the old mage want?”
Uncomfortable with the touchy topic, I didn’t resist his obvious ploy to talk about other things. “Mage Brandt found it curious I was hanging around, spying, as it were.”
“Understandable, from his point of view. Why are you here anyway?”
“I got lost.”
Jules turned back to face me and rolled his eyes. “You got lost?”
“If you're going to be so annoying,” I cut in sharply, “at least buy me a mug of hot cinnamon tea.”
“All right.” He led me along, in a companionable truce, to the Seaman’s Berth, a small, cozy inn we often frequented, not far from the major wharf.
“You’re both up bright and early.” Chester, the innkeeper, waved a greeting as he set a plate of thick sausages and fresh eggs before one of his guests, an older man, well traveled but neat.
“Too much to do.” I grinned, taking an empty table opposite the stranger.
“Too much on her conscience.”
“My lord duke, that was rude,” Chester scolded, earning a raised eyebrow from the gentleman across the way.
“As though he cares—”
“Alex, really.”
At the sound of my name, the gentleman turned sea-gray eyes my way, studying my face with open interest. His hair was thick and unruly, liberally streaked with gray, the face handsome in a rugged, nondescript way.
“The duke is incorrigible.” The innkeeper set two cups of steaming tea in front of us. “Has been, ever since he was a bo
y.”
“An undeniable brat,” I murmured, waving aside Chester’s offer of food.
“Like my little one there.” Chester pointed at his young daughter, busy raising the flames in the hearth through her fledgling firemage talent. “She was well behaved in your schoolroom. Now she’s being taught by the mage council—”
Those words caught the gentleman’s ear, too, though he was careful to focus on cutting his sausage into even bits. I watched Chester’s girl practice on the hearth, flames rising and falling inconsistently, oblivious to her father’s chatter.
“She was always well behaved, and I’m sure—”
The innkeeper leaned close to our table, his face abruptly serious. “They’re teaching my sweet child arrogance. Mage talent is a gift, Alex, not a reason to claim superiority.” Chester edged closer, eye-to-eye with me. “Your dear, departed mother understood. I wish she were still alive to teach my child.”
I squeezed the innkeeper’s arm. “So do I, old friend.”
The stranger’s hand stood poised above his plate, and he carefully set aside his knife.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t exert your influence,” I told the innkeeper. “She comes home to you at night, and you’re the one who loves her. Just be sure to remind her every chance you can.”
“I do, and I will.”
Shaken by his words, I urged Jules to leave soon after, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him a ways up the street.
“I’m coming, Alex. Hang on. Wait—”
“Did you ever see that gentleman before?”
“The one cutting the sausage into exactly even pieces?”
I laughed, reassured. “At least you were paying attention. Jules, he was listening to our conversation.”
“We were rather loud.” Jules studied my expression for a moment in silence. “You’re serious.”
“Quite. It may be nothing. I could just be easily spooked, but after that visit from Elena…” I shrugged, not knowing what to think.
“I’ll send one of my troopers down here to keep watch, see what he does. Will that make you feel better?” When I nodded, his voice softened. “Chester spooked you, talking about your mother, didn’t he? I’m sorry, Alex, especially since Elena and I did the same thing to you days ago.”
Mage Confusion (Book 1) Page 3