Mark of the Mage: Scribes of Medeisia Book I

by R.K. Ryals

  Chapter 22

  Dead. All of them. Children. I couldn't shake the thought.

  “Did you learn anything of import while you were gone?” I asked Kye.

  Maeve had been summoned out of the tent not long after I'd read the proclamation and Lochlen had followed. There were soldiers in the forest, and some of the rebels had been sent out to lead them away from our camp. I wanted to go with them, to do something, but my legs still hurt. I could move them now, but not well enough to walk.

  Ena had entered the tent when Maeve exited, and she sat now in the corner, her head down as she stitched a pair of leggings. A chaperone, I realized with surprise.

  Lochlen slept near me every evening, and no one had ever bothered with a chaperone until now. But, then again, Lochlen wasn't a man.

  Kye sat down next to me, one leg up, his arm resting across it. His jaw tightened as he pulled a loose strand of straw out of my pillow.

  “Nothing more beyond what the proclamation reveals,” he muttered.

  I thought of the parchment I'd read only moments before.

  "It's evidence," I said. "Couldn't we take the proclamation to Sadeemia?"

  Kye shook his head.

  "It's not enough," Kye answered. "It blames Sadeemia for our problems and even claims unrest, but it doesn't declare war. It's not enough. We need something that shows Medeisia means Sadeemia harm."

  One month in the camp had taught me I was such a small thing compared to the seasoned warriors here, and yet Lochlen and Kye both talked to me openly. If I asked a question, they answered it. Maybe it was the prophecy. Or maybe . . .

  “I want to spy on the king,” I said.

  Kye looked down at me, his face still. A month ago, he'd stood outside, the full moon behind him and told me I wasn't ready. And then he'd disappeared.

  I pulled myself up on my elbows. It brought our faces closer, but I didn't turn away.

  “Up until a month ago, I don't think I truly realized how bad it had gotten in Medeisia. And then … and then I lost Aigneis and was told I was a phoenix of peace,” I said, my gaze moving over his face, concentrating finally on the scar near his temple. “I can't be a phoenix of anything sitting inside this camp. I don't know anything about true fighting other than the lessons I've received from Maeve.” Kye knew I was right. I could see it in the way he lowered his head, his shoulders slumping.

  Kye's chin had lifted, his lips beginning to part when someone stepped into the tent. It was the bowman from the forest, Brennus.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the man said, his gaze moving between us before resting on Kye.

  Kye stood. “Something wrong, Brennus?”

  The man's head lowered. “It's the child, Nikalia.”

  Darned clothes fell to the ground as Ena stood up abruptly. “Nikalia?” she asked, her face pale.

  Kye moved around me, and I struggled to my feet. My legs were still weak, but they held.

  Brennus nodded. “She is missing, she is. We think she followed Maeve's group into the forest.”

  Ena gasped as Kye reached up and tied the ties on his tunic. “Bloody hell,” he murmured.

  I took a step forward, breathing a sigh of relief when my legs cooperated. I felt stronger now. The weakness that remained felt more emotional than physical, although my legs still had a heavy feeling I wasn't used to. I ignored it, brushing past Kye until I stood in front of Brennus at the tent flap.

  I gave Brennus a look, and he stepped aside.

  “Where is she?” I asked the trees when I moved through the opening, the late afternoon sun making the forest appear more golden than green.

  The trees swayed. “The king's men have the child.”

  I froze. No!

  A hand landed on my shoulder. “What do they say, the trees?” Kye asked, his mouth near my ear.

  I didn't look back at him. “Taken,” I breathed.

  He swore again, and I fisted my hands.

  “I could be the best spy here,” I pointed out. “The trees, the animals . . . I can see for miles, and I have ears in the smallest places. I know it. You know it.”

  Kye didn't say anything for a moment. And then, “We'll need to do something about your appearance.”

  I looked up at him. “What do you suggest?”

  Kye touched my hair with one of his hands before suddenly pulling out some of the pins I kept in it. Ena had taught me how to plait my own hair, and I'd begun doing it often. Bright strands of highlighted brown curls began to fall around my shoulders.

  Kye leaned over and deftly pulled a dagger out of his boot.

  “I'm not sure you're going to like this,” he warned.

  It suddenly occurred to me what he planned to do, and I let my gaze move to his face.

  “Do it.”