Mage Confusion (Book 1)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  “I asked her that myself.” At my raised brow, he admitted, “Well, I was curious. But she told me she always believed you had potential, and there was no one else to turn to for help. She'd no idea who I was or where to contact me.”

  “And when I didn't show any more talent, you never declared yourself.”

  “Precisely.”

  “But if you were friends with mother, didn't you visit here? Didn't Rosanna ever see you?”

  “Your mother lived in the cottage.”

  “My cottage? No one ever said a word.”

  “It must have slipped Rosanna's mind.” At the murderous look in my eye, Anders changed the topic, though it was no less controversial. “Your mother met your father very soon after.” When the murderous look turned violent, he added with quiet force, “It's part of the answer to your question, so listen. When she met your father in Edgecliff, over on the border of Glynnswood, she fell wildly in love. Sernyn agreed to live in Port Alain if she'd agree not to use her mage talent in front of him.”

  Thinking evil thoughts about the man, I tugged the threadbare blankets upward as the room chilled. Anders pulled them up to my chin, tucking me in.

  “Emila settled down to put her studies in order, and I traveled in her place. I returned from time to time, behind Seamage Brandt's back. I brought her my observations and, frankly, Alex, just to be with her. Emila was my friend and mentor, and I adored her. But I never stayed for very long.”

  “Sernyn Keltie was jealous.”

  “Yes, but not of her affection for me. It was obvious we were very much like siblings, truly. No, he was jealous and uneasy of my mage talent.”

  “He was afraid you'd influence her to rebel against her agreement with him not to use her magic in his presence.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Did you try?”

  “Of course.” Anders' expression darkened with shadows of painful memories. “It was the only time your mother was truly angry at me. She told me in irrevocable, unmistakable terms if I ever brought up the subject again she'd sever our friendship.”

  I resisted the urge to snuggle against his warmth, needing instead to watch him and listen.

  “Like you,” he continued, “I didn't really know my family. What was left of them after an illness swept Belbridge Cliffs; my two brothers who I didn't want to know. They were worlds apart from me, and I wanted it to stay that way. Emila was the only family I had. She trained me, as did your grandmother for a time.” His eyes darkened as he brushed wayward strands of hair from my face. “I didn't want to damage our friendship, so I kept my visits to a tolerable limit. If I'd known years later her daughter would mean as much to me as you do, I don't think I would've stayed away from Port Alain.”

  I cupped his cheek in the palm of my hand and leaned up to kiss him, still bemused by what happened between us. Lauryn would have smacked me soundly for being surprised.

  Anders tugged at my hair, playful again. “Would it have mattered if your mother and I were lovers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don't want to be a replacement for her in your affections.”

  His smile was equal parts affection, mischief, and open lust. “You're very much an individual with a very different place in my heart than your mother.”

  “Just how different?”

  “I suppose I'll have to show you,” he said, pulling me back into his arms. “Though it isn't part of my fee, you still owe me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I know you don't want to talk about it.” Anders hesitated as we rode south past Tucker's Meadow at an easy pace, a day's ride from Port Alain.

  “Then don't press me.”

  “Just listen.”

  “I don't want anything to do with him.”

  “Your father said he'd send word through Rosanna.” I urged my horse ahead of Anders so I didn't have to listen. “Damnation, but you are stubborn!” Anders shouted after my retreating back. “If we're to understand your talent, we need to know something of his talent.” He lunged for the reins of my horse as he caught up to me, missing them as I pulled away. “All right. Be thick-skulled.”

  My horse stopped abruptly as I held his reins in check. I turned in frustration to confront Anders' exasperated expression, pushing aside painful memories. “Don't you see how difficult this is for me? He wanted no part of me all these years, but you want me to learn from him? Can't you understand?”

  “Of course I can.” His expression softened, cool sea-gray eyes remaining wary. “But we need to know, for Elena's sake at least, if there's any chance you'll need to represent her in a Mage Challenge.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Then think about this, too.” He reached out a hand to reason with me as he changed the topic. “If I have any amount of influence over you, please don't grieve Rosanna. It wasn't her decision to make, or her choice to tell you the truth about your father.”

  “She lied to me,” I said coldly, biting my lip. “For twenty-five years, she lied to me. How can I ever trust her again?”

  “Give her a chance to explain. You owe her that at least.”

  “One chance.” I looked away. “Only one.”

  * * * *

  “Alex!” Rosanna rushed across the length of her parlor to greet me. She stepped back, holding me at arm's length. “What's wrong?”

  “I promised Anders I'd give you one chance to explain. He convinced me I at least owe you that much.”

  Her eyes were puzzled. She seemed not certain whether to be alarmed. “Explain what?”

  “Why you didn't tell me Sernyn Keltie was still alive.”

  Rosanna paled, hands falling limply at her sides in defeat.

  I walked away to lean against the window ledge overlooking her frost-covered gardens and left her standing like a lost child in the middle of the room, eyes burdened with old grief and heartache.

  “When you were a day old,” she spoke with such softness I strained to hear, “your father begged me to care for you. He was sick with grief and burdened with guilt. He wanted you to have no part in his guilt, Alex, wanted only you to have a chance at happiness without his misery shaping your life. Neither Sernyn nor I ever thought you'd take the guilt on yourself.”

  “Wasn't it logical?”

  “Not to us. Not then, not now. And when you did blame yourself, nothing I said ever eased your pain. I found it unbearable for you to hold yourself responsible, knowing Sernyn was still alive.” With a resigned sigh, she sank into the rocking chair by the fireplace, fidgeting with the sleeve of her woolen tunic. “We were so wrong about you. I promised the day he left Port Alain to care for you and protect his secret because I loved your mother. I raised you as my own, because I loved you, too.” Rosanna raised a tear-streaked face to meet the challenge in my eyes, waiting for my judgment, which she expected to be harsh.

  “Did you know he was a mage?”

  She nodded.

  Hell, at least she was honest. “Is there anything else you've kept hidden from me, other than the fact Mother lived in my cottage?”

  Her eyes widened, though she chose to sidestep the comment. I didn’t let her.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to leave the manor. If you knew, it would only have encouraged you more. My husband didn’t agree with me, called me selfish.”

  “I’m not surprised. What else?”

  “Your father asked me to write and tell him what I could about you. I did, faithfully, telling him everything. I knew from his letters he was hungry for every last piece of the puzzle that made you who you are.” She stared at me in quiet defiance.

  I pushed away from the ledge and walked over to Rosanna. She watched anxiously, tears glittering in her eyes, and then in open surprise, as I bent to kiss the top of her graying head.

  “One thing more,” I tossed over my shoulder, as I walked toward the door, “Anders is leaving the Seaman’s Berth.”


  “Is he coming to live here?”

  “He's coming to live with me.” I grinned with utter satisfaction as delayed realization flashed in her eyes.

  * * * *

  “Your father's people seem to be the only ones in Tuldamoran who have a mage talent somewhat like yours, though still far removed. No one seems to know why.” I stiffened beneath Anders' sheltering arm as we lounged on overstuffed pillows in front of my fireplace. “Just listen,” he coaxed, knowing better than to wait for a reply. “It's different, restricted. Your father, for example, can change matter between water and fire, but that's all. Other Glynnswood mages can do the same with two elements, but only two, and there's no rhyme or reason to what those two elements may be.”

  “Being from Glynnswood is reason enough.”

  He ignored me. “Your talent is rather unique.” When I stayed silent, Anders added, with a subtle nudge in the ribs, “I found out why your father was so against magic.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “You should be. Seems he almost killed his closest friend when he was practicing his talent, long before he met your mother.”

  Oh, hell. “And then he killed her.” I freed myself from Anders' arm to sit up and defy his words.

  A cool expression hid his thoughts, “He was responsible for the circumstances which allowed her to die without any help. He's suffered all your life for his error.”

  “Error? He killed her, Anders, and he hasn't suffered near enough. I don't want to talk about him.”

  “All right.” He touched my cheek in apology. “But at least we know there's some basis for your talent in his bloodline. But you're still a mystery.” Tugging at my hair, he inched his arm around my shoulders and drew me closer.

  “What about the Crownmage? What bloodline produces talent like that?”

  Anders stared into the blazing fire, thinking. “There's never been any solid evidence to prove a specific combination of talents would produce a Crownmage. Your mother had some wild theories, though no proof. Otherwise, there'd be countless couples jumping into bed trying to do just that. Remember, there haven't been too many of them.”

  “And probably none like me.”

  “Most assuredly, none like you.” Eyes wide, he wrestled me to the floor until I persuaded him it was time to go to bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Loud, persistent knocking in the middle of the night some days later brought us both awake.

  Anders fumbled for a lamp. “Wait here. I'll see who’s bothering us at this uncivilized hour.” He grabbed wrinkled tunic and trousers and climbed into them, almost tripping in his haste.

  I took my time hunting for my own clothes, prepared to find the Duke of Port Alain at my front door.

  “Who's there?” Anders' voice was scratchy with too little sleep as he pulled the cottage door open a tiny crack to peer outside. Beneath a barely visible moon, Anders hadn't a chance to see who was out there.

  No answer, but a low, rich, amused chuckle. Flameblasted hells. I pulled my tunic over my head and stumbled into the sitting room.

  “Let the royal seawitch inside, Anders, only if she has a bottle of vintage Marain wine in her hand.”

  A dark clad arm thrust a bottle through the narrow crack in the door as Anders opened it. Throwing back the hood of her dark woolen cloak, Elena sauntered inside the cottage. She eyed Anders' disheveled form with open interest until he blushed crimson to the roots of his gray-streaked hair.

  “No one bothered to tell me about this, um, recent development.”

  Jules followed close behind, cloak tossed over his arm, trying to hide a grin at Anders' obvious distress.

  “Be a dear, and open this, please, Master Perrin,” Elena purred, handing Anders the wine bottle.

  “Majesty.” He bowed with awkward stiffness and started to walk away, but Elena grabbed him with a light, firm grip by the sleeve of his wrinkled tunic.

  “'Elena' will do, since you're such a, well, close friend of Alex.”

  I rolled my eyes at Anders in disgust as he managed to turn an even brighter shade of scarlet and then shoved him in the direction of the inner alcove. “Lords of the sea, but you deserve it.”

  Anders relaxed enough to laugh and fled to open the bottle. I rummaged for glasses as my visitors settled themselves. Jules fanned the flames back to life in the fireplace before dropping to the floor at Elena's feet. When Anders returned, the old wretch poured Elena a glass first.

  “Do any of you ever visit each other during the day?”

  Elena laughed in appreciation, accepting the wine.

  “Elena travels by night,” Jules answered with a smug grin, “because she's plotting something nasty. Alex travels by night for vengeance.”

  “True enough,” I muttered, raising the glass Anders shoved into my hand as he sat in the armchair opposite Elena. “To old friends.”

  “And new,” Elena added, with an eloquent, suggestive arched brow in Anders' direction. When he flushed again, she reached over to squeeze his hand. “It's quite all right, Anders. In fact, I would've been disappointed if it hadn't happened. Though I didn’t expect it to happen quite so fast, knowing how stubborn Alex could be.”

  I eyed Elena after that peculiar comment and sat at Anders' feet, leaning back against his knees. “Lauryn did.”

  “Lauryn knew?” Jules practically squeaked.

  “She started giving me hints weeks ago. I told her she was crazy.”

  Anders nudged me. “Should I be insulted?”

  “Probably. Now, my glorious and revered monarch, what are you plotting this time? Or did you hear the rumor I took pity on Master Perrin and you couldn't resist finding out for yourself, even though you claim no one told you he was here?”

  “I'd never do such a thing.”

  “You're a pathetic liar.”

  “Hmm, but I do have a serious reason for being here. I've been approached, with absolute discretion, by the Meravan monarch. His ambassador gave me substantiated evidence the Crown Council is paying Meravan mercenaries to create problems between our two nations.”

  “That’s credible.”

  “Yes. Their crown offered open support if I choose to expose the Crown Council. If I don't, or until I do, they'll still support me in secret. Meravan doesn’t want war any more than we do.”

  “Their support in exchange for what? Wanting peace is all very honorable, but I'm sure they want something more.”

  “Better trade terms which would hurt us only for a short while until our merchants have a chance to adjust. In the long run, Tuldamoran would feel only a minimal pinch, though I believe we stand to gain. If I can convince our merchants to accept these terms, without too much grumbling, we should be able to expand our trade in the future. At a slow pace, naturally, but we'd still benefit.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “It makes sense to me.”

  “What do you think the Council will do?” My heart sank to my toes, already knowing the answer.

  Elena hesitated and drained her glass.

  “They'd feel justified in asking for Mage Challenge,” Anders slipped his hands onto my shoulders. “Charlton Ravess will do everything in his power to disrupt Elena's influence. With no Crownmage in sight, I'm sure he won't be able to resist creating havoc.”

  Elena studied him with interest and nodded, avoiding my eyes.

  “I told you I'd help you.” I kicked her boot with my bare foot. “Though I can't promise how it will end.”

  Elena's dark blue eyes caught the firelight's glint, black hair framing troubled features as she stayed silent.

  “It's all right.”

  Her expression held heartbreaking vulnerability I'd only witnessed twice before. When she had no choice but to hurt Jules and turn away his affections all those years ago. The second time when she had me arrested in the inn outside Bitterhill, forced to confront my accusation of betrayal. “I still hope it won't be necessary, Alex. I'm frightened for you.”

  “So am I. And worse, I'
m afraid you'll lose your crown because of me. I couldn't live with that.”

  “If I lose, the crown goes to Brendan. Despite what you believe,” she grinned, “I don't need the crown. As long as I know it's in good hands, I don't need it on my head. If you believe I do,” her tone shifted with a subtleness that caught me unprepared, “then you and I haven't made much progress, have we?”

  I stared at Elena for a long, long moment, uncertain whether to rip out her heart or acknowledge her challenge. “Sometimes, you're an utter and complete idiot.”

  “Speaking of idiots,” Anders cut in, “I wonder if we can rattle the Crown Council a bit.”

  Elena looked intrigued and nodded encouragement, an undisguised smug expression still lingering on her face.

  “I was thinking maybe we can spread subtle rumors they're sure to hear,” Anders explained. “Something to suggest one of the four Crown Council members is, in fact, the true Crownmage and plotting to make a bid for control of the Council? If we assume they don't have a Crownmage at hand, then they don't know who this legendary Crownmage really is.”

  “Wait a minute. There’s a flaw in your thinking. Why would they believe that? How could one of them have hidden it all these years?” I countered. “It seems like an impossible task.”

  “Not if the person's determined.” His answer held a trace of something I couldn't quite read, but he continued before I could think any further about it. “Look, Alex, I’ll admit there is a chance they won't believe the rumor. And a risk, too, that a genuine Crownmage will appear. But I think it's worth it.”

  “Who would be the alleged Crownmage?” Elena sipped her wine, the question directed at Anders, but her eyes on mine.

  “Since Ravess already controls the Crown Council, I think he should be our main target. And if successful, it will rattle him, as well as the others at the same time.”

  “Yes.” There was a predatory gleam in Elena’s eyes. “I think the idea will work.” She laughed softly. “Not only is Anders a gentleman, he's devious.”

  “That’s why I knew you’d like him.”