“That child is as bad as you.”
“Thank the lords of the sea I have one son with my temperament. Anything I can do to cheer you up?” When I shrugged, she changed tactics. “Anders is taking it all pretty hard.”
“He should. He almost died.”
“I’m not talking about his aches and pains, Alex, but his heart.”
I glanced up and away. “He’s lost his star pupil.”
“He’s lost a companion.”
“You’re crazy. Look, he’s got no reason to stay in Port Alain.”
“You are one stubborn woman. And beastly blind, though I can’t quite determine if it’s on purpose, or you’re just a little dense.”
So many insults coming from Lauryn in one breath was a little unsettling. “You’re the one with the imagination.” I growled, standing to leave.
Lauryn grabbed my sleeve. “The man’s attracted to you, and it’s got nothing to do with your mage talent. You’ve pushed him away, and he’s not very happy at the moment. In fact,” she stared me down, “he’s as pathetic and mopey as you.”
“I am not pathetic and mopey,” I said in self-defense, trying to snatch my sleeve from her deathlike grip.
“Nor are you attracted to him, are you?” Lauryn dropped my sleeve, an odd expression in her eyes. “I didn’t think so. Come see me when you open your eyes, Alex.”
* * * *
I don't know how the old seawitch managed to restrain herself for two weeks. But two weeks and one day was too much.
“Self-pity isn't very attractive.”
I didn't bother to look up from reading Carey's illegible lesson. In addition to his father’s temperament, he inherited his poor handwriting. “Is that what I've been doing? Pitying myself?”
Rosanna strode across the schoolroom and leaned against the wall nearest me, arms crossed in an attitude of blatant disapproval. I still didn't bother to look up, noting her movements from the corner of my eye as I continued reading, adding an occasional comment on Carey's work.
“Poor dear.” Rosanna's tone was cool. “I felt sorry for you when I heard the same fearful demon that confronted you as a child is back to haunt you. Not surprising, I thought, your response is the very same. You hurt poor Jules then and Anders now, and ran away both times.”
It took immense effort not to flee.
“What a magnificent role model for my grandsons. You're given this marvelous gift and find it's just a bit too demanding. You're expected to be responsible for all that mage talent. Imagine.”
Knowing full well I was acting like a child, I couldn’t resist throwing my pen clear across the length of the room. “I'm not feeling sorry for myself.”
An arched brow over a steady eye appraised me and found me severely wanting. “You've been self-absorbed then, not caring a bit about the rest of us. Did you know Anders was questioned by Seamage Brandt?”My stomach dropped to the floor, and Rosanna correctly interpreted my expression. “You didn't know, did you? Well, then, let me tell you all about it. Seamage Brandt forced Anders from the Seaman’s Berth and had him brought to the council hall. Chester sent word as soon as it happened. Brandt kept Anders there for a few hours, asking all sorts of questions about you.”
“Why Anders?”
“Brandt has a long memory. He recognized Anders in Port Alain as your mother's very good friend.”
I turned away, sick at heart. “Is he all right?”
“Do you care? Or are you asking to be polite?”
“Damn you, Rosanna!” I stood up, glaring at her confident, smug expression. “Is he all right?”
“Brandt only questioned him this time around. You might thank Anders for being discreet.”
I slammed my fists against the wooden table, leaning forward in anger, barely able to restrain myself from leaping over the wood. “I'm tired of people telling me what to feel, how to act, what to do with my life, and what to think! Every one of you hides behind well-meaning intentions and sweet-sounding words that accuse me and judge me and tell me in precise detail what I'm doing wrong. And I'm tired of it.” Refusing to acknowledge the stricken look on her face, I went on, “Jules wants me to help Elena. Elena wants me to help Tuldamoran. Anders wants to make me useful. Lauryn wants to bind me into this wretched family. And you,” I said, concentrating all my fierce anger at Rosanna, “you're the worst of the lot! You act like my conscience, always hovering, always waiting to pounce the moment I slip.”
Rosanna's face had grown pale.
“You're so frightened I won't be the mature, loving, responsible woman you raised me to be. You judge me every moment of my life,” I accused. “That's why I stay away. I don't need any of you. I'm sorry I ever came back to Port Alain. It's not home anymore. It's a flameblasted prison.” I turned away, leaning my head against the wall to soothe the unbearable heartache. The silence was so heavy after that outburst, my heart pounded in my ears. But I wouldn't budge. If I conceded now, I'd never be free of her loving interference. From the corner of my eye, I saw Rosanna edge closer to me, hesitate, and place a shaking hand on my shoulder.
“I'm sorry, Alex,” she whispered, voice heavy with unfeigned grief. “I've never meant for you to feel that way. If I'd known how much you resented me…” Her words faltered as she choked back a sob and walked from the room.
Chapter Twenty
That little scene forced me north again.
As the steward pounded the staff against the dais once in his usual ritual, I cringed against the lingering echo in the cramped alcove behind the tapestry. I set my teeth until the sound and vibration dissipated, replaced by the rustling of Elena's heavy silk robes of state. I'd arrived just in time for the formal assembly of counselors, with Jules tucked somewhere in the crowd.
Further rustling above indicated Elena's restlessness. “My lords and ladies.” Her voice carried a tinge of irony maybe only Jules and I recognized. “You've all heard by now there's been a raid along the Bitterhill Coast.”
This was news to me.
Elena paused, giving the murmurs a chance to subside. “Two days ago.”
“And Meravan behind it.”
Utter and complete silence descended over the assembly at the rude, disrespectful interruption. The tone's contempt brought the speaker's face to mind. Long, thick white hair, with deep brown eyes too rich for the sour expressions one was accustomed to seeing on the face of Firemage Charlton Ravess. I strained for any clue of Elena's reaction, but her robes were still, hands probably clenched out of sight.
“Lord Ravess, we've all heard this cry from you before.”
“It's not a cry.” His voice was louder, approaching the throne. “It is, instead, a formal accusation.”
Silk rustled in warning, at least to me. If given the opportunity, Elena would probably like nothing better than to leap from the dais and rip out his tongue before he uttered another word. But she was raised on diplomacy and courtesy and far more civilized expressions of hostility and aggression.
Betrayal, for one.
Manipulation, for another.
And let's not forget deceit.
Shoving those thoughts aside, I listened. Vengeance wasn't my reason for eavesdropping.
“With proof?”
“There were wounded survivors from the raiding ship who admitted the truth of their government's aggression before the Bitterhill Seamage.” Ravess' tone was polite, calm, and brimming with confidence.
“Then you'll have no objection to having them appear before the assembly.”
“Unfortunately, that would be impossible.”
Elena's icy tone left no room in my imagination of the hatred in those dark blue eyes. “Why is that?”
“Their wounds were fatal.”
And if they weren't, he made very sure they were. Elena knew this as well as I did, and knew the Bitterhill Seamage would lie through her teeth to support the traitor. My mother had reason to turn rogue, not that I'd ever doubted her decision. Perhaps my father had reason, too, when he spurned any talen
t at all. Maybe I should follow in his footsteps rather than hers.
“Who inflicted the killing thrusts, my lord?”
I stifled a gasp. Lords of the sea, but she'd gotten feisty.
“How dare you imply I would ever—”
“Dirty your hands? No,” Elena cut in. “I was wondering who did it for you.” From the loud rustling overhead, I assumed Elena had gotten to her feet. “How dare you,” she snarled, voice pitched to carry throughout the audience chamber, “presume to act so bold and discourteous to me, with utter disregard and contempt for my counselors? How dare you risk Tuldamoran’s very life in war by accusing the government of Meravan without real proof any judge in any court of law would demand but the purity and credibility of your word?” Her voice dropped to a low, menacing tone which gave me pause to wonder. “Guards!” Elena's unexpected shout startled me back to attention. “Escort Lord Ravess from the hall. Now.”
“You wouldn't dare,” he challenged, raising his voice above the shocked murmurs running like wildfire around the hall.
“I would. And I will.”
“Then take care, lady, for this is one mistake too many you've made.”
“Push me a little further, Firemage, and you'll find I enjoy every one of my mistakes. Now get out.” Silence descended once again as Ravess was escorted from the hall, broken when Elena, her voice tight with restraint, informed the court, “I think it best to reconvene the assembly tomorrow.” The rustle of her robes moved farther away as she left the hall, her counselors following in shocked obedience.
I waited for some long moments, thinking hard. Compelled by an idiocy I couldn't quite identify, I left my pack in the far corner of the alcove and wedged through the narrow opening into the audience chamber. Certain no one was about; I slipped out the side entrance. Instinct screaming I should turn back, I made my way instead toward the central courtyard. The corridors were empty, as though word of Elena's temper had swept through the fortress, warning everyone to find safety out of sight. Careless, I rounded a corner without watching my step and smacked hard into a cloaked and hooded man.
“Idiot.” He shoved me aside, out of his way.
“Sorry.” My apology died in my throat when I recognized the shock of white hair sticking out from the hood.
Charlton Ravess started to walk past, and then stopped, narrowing his eyes to peer at me. “Orphan child. I remember you.” His laugh overflowed with malice and contempt. “Elena always pitied you, but you were too desperate for her friendship to see it, tagging along behind like a pathetic little puppy.”
I started to speak, but his eyes held me silent.
“She kept you dangling because she thought you had mage talent. An orphan child with no blood ties could be very useful to a future monarch. Even I kept my eye on you for awhile, hoping for a sign after those odd rumors. I would've snatched you from her grasp so fast she wouldn't have noticed. Or, for that matter,” he sneered, “missed you.”
I kept silent, heart full of grief.
He pointed a jeweled finger at me. “Your friend,” he said the word as though it were a curse, “has made one mistake too many this time.”
If he'd said those words to Elena earlier with the same malevolent loathing in those deep brown eyes, I admired her restraint in not strangling him. I pushed him and his hateful words away from me in disgust, forcing him toward the wall.
“Back, orphan child.”
With no effort, he switched our position so my back was to the wall, snatched the cover from a wall lamp over my head, and directed the flames through his talent toward the edge of my cloak. As I struggled against his superior strength, he chanted, “orphan child,” over and over, taunting me as the flames crept closer. With one burst of strength, fueled by anger and heartache, I shoved him away, barely escaping the flame that turned about with an abrupt motion to trail upward toward the lamp.
Chuckling to himself, Firemage Ravess turned his back on me and walked away, though not before one last remark. “If Elena depends on help from the likes of you, orphan child, then I've nothing to fear, do I?”
* * * *
The cool breeze from Shad's Bay was soothing against my skin, ruffling my tangled hair as I sat along the seawall east of Port Alain. Waves rolled unceasing against the slick, seaweed-covered rocks below as sea hawks flew in lazy spirals, swooping and hunting for prey. Fishing vessels made their way back to shore, evading the larger, colorful merchants sailing in and out of the harbor. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on my face, enjoying the deceptive serenity, grateful to be home again.
“Raiders landed at Bitterhill five days ago.”
I jumped, almost falling from the seawall. “Lords of the sea, Jules,” I said, my voice shaky, “must you be so stealthy?”
“I'm sorry.” He perched beside me on the seawall. “I thought you heard me and decided to ignore me.”
“Not a bad idea,” I grumbled, replying to his news. “I'd heard raiders landed, looted, and vanished back to sea. Are we next?”
Jules shifted to get more comfortable, hugging his knees against his chest. “I've alerted the Port Alain troops, just in case, but I don't think they'll bother us. At least not yet. We're larger than Bitterhill and wouldn't be such easy prey.”
“Is Meravan blamed again?” I asked with feigned innocence, looking out to sea, shivering as the sun slid behind a passing cloud.
“I'm afraid so.”
“Who pointed a finger?”
“Ravess.”
“No surprise.”
“No. I was in Ardenna two days ago. He accused the Meravan monarch of responsibility for the raid at a formal assembly. He didn't have any proof that would stand up to scrutiny. Elena was so outraged she threw him out.” Jules rested his chin on his knees, light brown hair lifting in the bay's breeze. “Is it so very much to ask that you help her?” I started to jump down from the seawall, but Jules' firm grasp held me back. “Please just listen. Please, Alex.”
I didn't answer, sat back down at his uncharacteristic plea, and stared moodily out across the bay.
“Thank you.” Jules released his grip. “I don't know how far you've progressed with your mage talent or what you can or can't do. But if there's any talent you could offer Elena as counterbalance to the Ardenna Council until the Crownmage appears, if the Crownmage ever does appear, is it really so very much to ask?”
I stared across the bay, seeing nothing.
“Suppose the Crownmage appears and decides to ally with the Crown Council, what then? Or, suppose the Crownmage never appears? Alex, don't you see?” he asked, taking complete advantage of the fact I was at least listening.
“See what?”
“Maybe I'm naïve, but even if you can't offer Elena any mage talent that's reliable or potent, at least you can offer your friendship back. Elena needs every bit of confidence and trust we can give her. She's left you alone as she promised,” Jules reminded me, “but it's hurting her deeply. She needs you. You, Alex. Her friend.”
How I'd needed to hear those words as a child. Yet if I were honest, when ever did Elena turn me away or deny me genuine affection? Not ever. I was the one rejecting her now, though I shared the heartache. “Isn't your support enough?”
Jules chose to ignore my needless cruelty. “I could tell you it's our duty as royal subjects, and I'd be right. But not you and me, Alex. That's not a good enough reason. We're her friends. We've always been her friends, despite all your doubts. And that's far more important, and more demanding.” When I turned away, Jules reached out to touch my hand. “At least think about it. That's all I ask.”
I watched him leave, guiding his horse in the direction of the manor. That's all any of them asked. Anders. Whom I hadn't seen in a month's time. Rosanna. Who avoided me for the past two weeks. Jules. Elena. Lauryn.
If I gave in, what would it cost me? If I didn't, would it cost me more?
The heart of the matter was I didn't need to think. I'd decided a long t
ime ago. I just hadn't bothered to accept the decision, or face it honestly.
Flameblast all of them. I hoped they'd rot in hell.
* * * *
I stopped at the door to Jules' study, hearing a murmur of deep voices within. “Who's in there?” I whispered to Brendan who came down the hall from the twins' connecting rooms, Kerrie beside him.
“Master Perrin, I think,” he whispered back, dark blue eyes, identical to his older sister’s, wide with curiosity.
Kerrie cocked his head to the side, listening. “Sounds like him.”
I nodded with a conspiratorial smile and lifted a finger to my lips. Both young men grinned and left me to my tricks. Closing my eyes, I slipped the copper pendant from my neck and coaxed the fire and ice to life. It’d been so long, and I so missed their presence.
Damn Anders Perrin to flaming hell.
I merged the fire and ice to their familiar cool warmth, took a deep, calming breath, and flung open the heavy door, slamming it against the inner wall.
“Alex?” Jules peered at me as I leaned against the doorframe. Unable to read my neutral expression, he stole a sidelong glance at Anders, who kept silent, a raised brow the only hint of reaction.
Good. Even better, Jules was sitting just where I wanted him, in the huge carved, wooden chair behind his desk. I ignored Anders and stared at Jules, keeping my inscrutable facade in place. Controlling the cool warmth until I envisioned the precise image I wanted, I concentrated on Jules' chair. And almost bit my tongue to keep from laughing as Jules landed with a thud and a splash in the huge pool of water which replaced his wooden chair, a stunned expression on his face.
“Alex?” His voice came out a harsh croak. “How—”
I ignored Jules and turned to Anders, who arched the other brow. “You tell him. If you haven't already done so.”
Anders steepled his fingers beneath his chin, cautiously amused, but held his tongue. I turned to go and then paused, staring at Jules, still sprawled on the floor.
“I'll tell Elena myself.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Mage Confusion (Book 1) Page 15