by Lea Doué
His cheeks were smooth and bare. Was she somehow overlooking the mark on his dark skin?
He pulled up his sleeve and held out his forearm to reveal the tattoo, similar to and yet different from the ones on Gram and Tharius, rougher and not shaped quite right.
She shook her head and pressed her back into the chair. “I can’t… I can’t do that.”
He leaned forward. “It doesn’t have to go on your face for everyone to see, and it doesn’t make you a sorceress. It merely ensures that you’ll be able to receive and use the information I have.”
He sounded so sincere. Could it be that simple? That innocent? She’d thought the tattoo was a mark to identify sorcerers to others, to warn them to be careful of their intentions, but Zared was telling her it had power of some kind.
How did it work? She reached out hesitantly and traced the black lines with her fingertip.
His fingers twitched.
Her curiosity demanded answers, but she couldn’t commit to such a step yet. She wanted a second opinion from Gram, but she hesitated to tell him.
“I’m going to have to think about this,” she said.
He nodded once and rolled down his sleeve. “I’m here whenever you’re ready. I understand it’s a big step, but you shouldn’t be worried about it.”
She nodded absently as she stood and mumbled a thank you on the way out. She was halfway back to the palace before she realized where she was and noticed Euna wheeling along silently beside her, both of them dripping wet. The guard followed a few steps behind.
She’d nearly made up her mind to do what Zared said—it didn’t seem to have harmed him in any way, and she was so close to finally getting what she’d been after for so long. She only wanted to learn to undo the bad things, not curse people and trap them underground or behind barriers and ruin their lives.
By the time they reached her rooms, she’d considered and discarded a dozen places she could hide the tattoo on her skin.
She changed into dry clothes, her own mud-brown trousers and tunic, and pulled her boots back on over dry socks. Wist was napping again on the pillow, so she left him to rest.
Surprisingly, Gram was not resting and agreed to see her. She watched silently from the same chair as before as Neylan entered the room and sat opposite her. The maid brought tea and then left with a sharp look over her shoulder.
Neylan cradled the teacup in her hands, not wanting to scald her tongue again. “How are you today?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“Where is Jak?”
“He’s enjoying the rain.”
She set down her cup and paced in front of the fire. Etiquette didn’t cover things like how to politely bring up such a delicate topic as sorcery. Finally, she blurted, “The other night, you told me that you can’t show me how to see and unravel the threads involved in curses and spells. But you can if you want, can’t you?”
The wrinkles between Gram’s brows doubled as she frowned and stared hard at Neylan.
“Well?”
Gram waited an eternity before answering. “The way things stand now, I can’t. I also said that even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
Neylan sat opposite her once again. “So it’s true. If I took the tattoo, you could teach me everything you know.”
Gram squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. She ran a hand across her brow and then looked at Neylan. “I told you not to ask questions, but you’ve found someone, haven’t you?”
“Maybe.” She didn’t want Zared to get in trouble.
“It’s true.” Gram took a sip of tea and swallowed as if the next words had gotten stuck in her throat. “Sorcery works in secrets and lies, girl, and the door to its knowledge must be unlocked.”
Was she calling Zared a liar?
Gram brushed the tattoo on her cheek with two fingers. “Without the key, I could no more teach you what I know than a bee could teach you its hidden language.”
“Are you saying no one can learn sorcery without the tattoo?” She sat on the edge of the chair, wanting to leap up again and pace around the room. “But I thought it was just a mark the soldier-king had required all those years ago to force sorcerers to be open about who they were. So they couldn’t trick people.”
Gram nodded. “Maybe it started that way. I don’t know my history as well as some. All I know is that sorcery can’t be taught to those without it. Can’t barely even be spoken about.”
Neylan’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “That’s why it can’t be written down.”
“Smart girl, when you want to be.”
“But there must be exceptions. Tharius was taught by his grandfather—the man he thought was his grandfather—since he was a child, and he didn’t have the tattoo until Father had it put on. And Tharius is powerful.” Perhaps as powerful as Idris.
Gram lifted an eyebrow and gave Neylan a look as if to say, Don’t be daft. “Did you ever ask Tharius if he had the mark anywhere besides his face?”
She’d never considered that before. His grandfather would have known it was needed. She shivered at the thought of a man forcing the mark on a child in order to pass on his knowledge, to turn him into a weapon to break them out of their prison. Tharius had been given no choice. He’d known nothing different.
“You’d best not unlock that door, girl. Once you do, there’s no going back. There’s more behind it than you can possibly imagine, and none of it good, despite what some people might say.”
Neylan’s head throbbed. She wanted to trust what Gram said. She did trust Yarrow, but he’d never told her such things. Whether that was by his own choice or under orders from Father, she didn’t know.
Zared was harmless. He wasn’t like a sorcerer at all, and she was so close to getting what she’d come for. She might never get another chance.
She thanked Gram and took her leave.
Back in her rooms, Neylan paced at the foot of her bed. Should she wait for Euna to return, or should she go see Zared again right away?
“What do you think?” she asked Wist.
He made no reply from his resting spot on the bed. In fact, he lay in the exact same position on the pillow as when she’d left him that morning. He was oddly sleepy.
“Wist?” She sat next to him and rubbed his back, but he didn’t move. The shine had gone from his hide, the dark purple faded and ashy around his lips. “Wist, wake up.”
Her heart sputtered. Even when she’d been treating his wing, he’d never been unresponsive. She splashed water on his face, and his eyelids twitched, but his eyes remained closed. She scooped him up and held him close. Who could help her?
Keir. He was a healer, and he’d worked with dragons before.
What seemed like an eternity later, she burst into his workroom, breathless, his assistant trailing behind her. The man apologized for the disturbance but Keir waved him away.
He strode up to her. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head and held out her hands, where Wist lay curled up, barely breathing.
“What happened?” He spread a cloth on his desk and motioned for her to lay Wist on it.
She explained how she’d found him. “Can you do anything?”
He lay his ear close to the little dragon and listened for a moment, and then he examined his limbs. “Did something bite him?”
“I don’t think so.”
He pried open Wist’s eyelids, looked inside his mouth.
“Well, what is it?”
He shook his head. “My best guess is that he ate something that wasn’t good for him.”
“But aconites can eat anything.”
“As far as we know. But we haven’t observed them much in the wild, have we? There may be some things they can’t eat. Or maybe he ate too much of it.”
He moved to a worktable and pounded some leaves with a pestle.
She folded her hands over her rib cage. “You had him for almost a day. You should know if he ate anything.” Wist never ate anything bad when h
e was with her.
“He ate normally, as far as I could tell.” Keir didn’t bother looking at her. “But you should have kept him with you.”
She bit her tongue against a retort, since he was trying to help, but his words stung.
“Think, Neylan. Have you seen anything in the gardens that doesn’t grow in Ituria? A flower, a grass, even a fruit. Some seeds can be poisonous.”
She shook her head. She’d seen nothing unusual. Nothing… wait. The blue-and-white moonflowers she’d worn in her hair—the flowers Zared had sent over. She’d never seen that variety before. Had he altered them to match the gown? “The moonflowers must have been spelled,” she muttered.
The room grew silent. Keir turned, the pestle gripped in his fist. “What did you say?”
Heat drained from her face, and she bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“WHAT did you say, Neylan?”
She jumped and cupped her hand protectively over Wist. She whispered, “He ate a blue moonflower.”
“A what?”
“I had one in my hair last night. I think… it was made specially to go with the gown.”
“What do you mean made specially?”
She didn’t want to get Zared in trouble. He wouldn’t have known Wist would eat such a thing. “I mean, they could have been a hybrid… or something…”
His gaze bored into her as he stepped closer and spoke in a dangerously soft voice. “You said spelled.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“What have you gotten yourself involved in, Neylan?”
“Nothing! I haven’t… I just… I met someone who—”
“You met someone? Was it that skinny man you brought to the ball? Is he creating spells for you?” His voice rose. “Is he a sorcerer, Neylan?”
Her heart nearly flew out of her chest, and she took a step back. “It’s not what you think. Please, Keir, don’t judge him so quickly. He’s—”
Keir turned away and pounded the leaves. “That’s great. You’ve fallen for a sorcerer. You could be under his spell for all I know, or even cursed. Have you considered that? You do realize it was a sorcerer who cursed me?” He added some powder to the mixture. “This is unbelievable. How you found a sorcerer among all the people of this city, I have no idea. And I can’t even begin to imagine why.”
She sniffled. “It’s not like that! I’m not cursed, and for your information, Melantha was the one who found him—although she didn’t know it at the time. He’s an artist, and he makes beautiful work. You’ve said so yourself.” There was no point anymore trying to hide Zared’s identity, since Keir had only to ask around to find out his name. “If it wasn’t for these parties, which are supposed to be for your benefit, I never would have met him.”
He rounded on her. “So, you’re blaming this on me? Melantha may have asked you to come here at my request, but you didn’t have to say yes. And you’re welcome to leave anytime.”
She winced.
He approached the desk, and she backed out of his way. He smeared the leaf paste on Wist’s tongue and gently held his mouth closed. After a few moments, Wist swallowed a couple of times and then returned to looking half dead.
Her throat tight against impending tears, she said, “Maybe I would leave, but I’m not here just for you. I don’t expect you to understand.”
He glanced at her, hurt in his eyes. Under different circumstances, she might have told him about wanting to protect her sisters, especially Ivy, but not in that moment.
Leaning both hands on the table, one on either side of Wist, he spoke so quietly she could hardly hear him. “Swallowing was a good sign. I need to keep him for observation.” His jaw clenched and he swallowed a few times himself, on the verge of tears.
She resisted the urge to reach out to him, to tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Instead, she mumbled, “Thank you,” and left.
She returned to her rooms. Rain pattered on the window, inviting her to snuggle up and read, but her conversation with Keir played over and over in her mind. Stupid slip of the tongue!
Sorcery is built on secrets and lies.
She pushed Gram’s words to the back of her mind. She’d never lied—she just hadn’t mentioned something that didn’t make any difference to anyone but her and Zared.
She hadn’t meant to accuse Keir of harming Wist. He would never do such a thing.
Zared needed to be warned that some of his spells weren’t as benign as he thought—at least when it came to flowers. He probably shouldn’t mess around with those again. And she needed to tell him that Keir knew about him before he found out from someone else. Hopefully, he would understand.
She grabbed her cloak.
“Going out again, Your Highness?” Euna spoke from the doorway… and then rode Majesty right into the sitting room, both of them glistening with raindrops.
Neylan froze with her hands on the clasp, staring at the dragon, who seemed perfectly comfortable indoors. Majesty’s head swung from side to side curiously as she walked where Euna directed her.
“I didn’t think she would be ready for a while yet,” Neylan said. “You look good up there.”
Euna grinned from ear to ear. Sitting on the dragon, she was taller than Neylan—maybe on par with Keir. “She’s brilliant, isn’t she? I mean, I’ve seen the little dragons you’ve had, and everyone knows how smart messenger dragons are, but I didn’t think other dragons could learn so well.”
That had to be the most words Euna had ever said in one breath.
“I’m proud of you for taking the risk and trying something new.”
Euna giggled. “I guess I’m a dragon girl now, too.”
“Indeed,” Neylan said wryly. “Welcome to the guild.”
“Where are you off to this time?”
Neylan’s worries crashed back onto her shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Your Highness?”
“Nothing. Everything.” Watching Euna guide Majesty around the room, she had an idea. “Is there room for one more up there?”
“Majesty can carry both of us. Where do you want to go?”
“I need to see Journeyman Zared.”
Euna’s expression sobered. “Oh, yes, of course. I had wondered if you’d heard about that.”
Neylan frowned. “Heard what?”
“Well… that Master Jiri died. That’s why you want to visit Journeyman Zared, isn’t it?”
Neylan stumbled backwards into a chair. Master Jiri was dead?
What else could happen in one day?
Chapter Eighteen
Neylan’s cloak slipped off her shoulders as she sat in the chair staring at Euna, who appeared to regret delivering the news that Zared’s master was dead.
How horrible. It must have happened soon after she’d left that morning. She’d never gotten a chance to meet Master Jiri.
“Your Highness, are you all right?” Euna guided Majesty away from the fireplace, where she’d been nosing the warm ashes.
She waved off the concern and stood. “I’ll be fine. I hadn’t heard about Master Jiri. I’m ready when you are.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.” Euna fetched Neylan’s cloak with her hooked stick and dropped it over her shoulders, something she’d never been able to do from her chair.
Once they exited the manor, Neylan climbed on behind Euna.
“What about a guard?” Euna asked.
“They won’t be able to keep up with Majesty. Neither would a razor-tail, I imagine.” She forced confidence into her voice for Euna’s sake. “We’ll be fine.”
The few people they passed in the misty rain peered curiously at them, unaccustomed to seeing a rock dragon scurrying around the palace grounds carrying two cloaked women.
Although Majesty was not traveling at a full run, she moved too fast for them to bother greeting anyone, for which Neylan was thankful. They arrived at the dressmaker’s shop in no time, and Euna guided Majesty up the steps
and onto the covered porch.
Neylan dismounted and moved to the door but found it locked. Drat. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Of course it would be closed up right now. Maybe she should have gone to the main house, but she wasn’t even sure if that was where Zared lived. She knocked on the door on the off chance that he might be in the back room or living above the shop.
“Try once more,” Euna suggested.
She did, and then she peeked in the window. After a few long minutes, Zared himself let them in. His eyes betrayed his shock and weariness.
“Neylan. I wasn’t expecting you back today, but I’m glad you’ve come.” He didn’t seem surprised by the dragon on the porch.
“I’m so sorry, Zared. I just heard about Master Jiri.”
After glancing at Euna, he nodded to the back room. “Can I offer you some tea?”
Euna ordered Majesty to lay down near the workshop door. She pulled her book from her belt pouch and pretended to read.
Neylan followed Zared to his workroom, leaving the curtain open behind her. His hands shook as he carried over the cups, and then they sat as if no time had passed since that morning. She laid her hands over his where they rested on the table. They were ice cold.
“I know this is a blow to you. Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m fine.” He flipped his hands over and grasped hers. “Master Jiri was a kind man, but old. He has no family left, so I’ll take care of any necessary arrangements. But it’s time for me to return to my true master.”
She pulled her hands away and wrapped them around the teacup. She’d expected more sadness after seeing the shock on his face when she’d arrived.
“It means a lot to me,” he said, “having you here right now.”
“About that. I was originally coming here to tell you about my dragon, but then I found out about Master Jiri.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Your dragon?”
“I’m not sure how much you know about aconites, but they can normally eat almost anything—even poisonous plants like moonflowers. Wist tasted the ones you sent with the blue gown, and we think whatever spell you used on them made him sick. I think you should be extra careful with your altering.”