by R. K. Thorne
She caught Aven’s eyes and smiled. “One more,” she murmured. “Then we’ll have to come back another day.”
“Anyone else up for having limbs broken by the king?” He grinned. “No one?”
Miara, shaking her head, approached a nearby woman and began her inspection.
“Well, well. I had to see it for myself to believe it.”
Daes groaned inwardly. Seulka. He turned at her approach. Same as always, same perfectly constructed exterior with dark hair and satin gown. He forced a smile, giving her the slightest bow. Much slighter than he would have at Mage Hall, and even there it had only been a courtesy. They’d been equivalent in rank then.
Now, he surpassed her.
“Seulka. How fares Mage Hall?” he said as politely as he could muster. Marielle was right; there was power to be gained in friends, even if his natural style leaned more toward making himself useful rather than making himself liked.
“Crammed full of unenslaved slaves,” Seulka replied. “We can’t handle much more, you know.”
“I’ve told you, you can ship them off to—”
“Trenedum Palace is full too. Shall I start sending them here?”
“There’s probably somewhere closer. I’ll see what I can do.” Gods, couldn’t the Fat Master figure out anything on his own? He was probably too busy counting his coins.
She smiled sweetly. “You just don’t want your home ravaged by enraged, magic-wielding prisoners who are not interested in staying imprisoned.”
He frowned. “Since when is Mage Hall not my home? We plan to travel back within the week. And are you using the stones the Devoted sent or not? The potions?”
“We’re doing our best,” she said politely. “Which is enough. Most of the time. Have you made any progress in finding our brand, dear Daes?”
It might have been his imagination, but he thought Marielle’s gaze shifted toward them at those words. As if Daes could ever take an interest in anyone as ridiculous as Seulka when he had a queen like Marielle. What kind of fool would he have to be? One like Demikin, probably.
“We have excellent spies at high levels working diligently on finding its location. Have your mages found any further trace in the libraries?”
Her brow furrowed. “No. There are hundreds of volumes to search, though. They may still find something… Eventually.”
“Well, if all goes according to plan, we’ll flatten Akaria and track down the brand amid the ashes, eh?” He grinned at her, and to his surprise, she grinned back. What, no lecturing censure? No lengthy explanations about why he might be right but he might also be wrong and he should be very careful?
Of course, he had been right. Demikin had proven to all of Kavanar what a fool he was, even if he’d had a little helping from Daes. The star magic did exist, and the Akarian royal family wielded it happily. Everything he’d predicted and feared had come true, in some cases worse.
Still, the grin felt out of place, and when Marielle appeared at his elbow and oh-so-gracefully slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, he was glad of her presence.
“Lady Seulka,” Marielle said politely. “Glad to see your health has improved enough for the journey.”
Seulka’s smile took on a bit of mirth. “It has indeed. I regret I couldn’t be hear to see my old friend crowned consort, but I am so glad to see that he is happy in his companions.” She kept her gaze trained carefully on the queen, ignoring Daes’s eyes.
“And we are lucky to have him,” said Marielle.
“I hear you all have much to do, with the attack on Trenedum by those warlike Akarians. Kavanar must defend itself.” Seulka clasped her hands in front of her mildly.
“I have already sent troops to the border.” To her credit, Marielle owned the words and didn’t parrot them, even if sending the troops had been his idea.
“I am glad to hear it. Mage Hall is not far from Akaria, you know.”
“Yes, it was a lovely trip when I was last there.” Marielle’s eyes twinkled.
Some of the amusement drained from Seulka’s face, her smile suddenly forced. “Yes, I recall. The late fall really is the last good time to travel. Do you think you will be traveling for the war? Winter seems a bad time for it.”
Daes opened his mouth to say definitely not, but Marielle beat him to an answer. “Yes, of course I’ll be going with Daes.”
His eyes widened. It took every bit of control he had to force a smile.
This was not the time or the place to confront her on the matter. But they would talk after. For the first time it occurred to him that he couldn’t make her stay. She was the one person in the world he couldn’t try to force to obey him. All his power depended on her granting it to him. And yet, he cared more that she be safe than… Well, he couldn’t think of anyone else he particularly cared for the safety of, other than himself.
This was terrible indeed. A risk he had not anticipated.
“That’s very brave of you,” said Seulka, her amusement returning. Was it Daes’s imagination or did she seem delighted at the prospect of the queen traveling into a war? Oh, now who was wishing for the death of their monarch? Of course Seulka would care about her cousin’s welfare, but not that cousin’s wife. That was a woman entirely unrelated to Seulka now, apparently. Self-serving fool. “You know we are hard-pressed without Daes at Mage Hall. We miss his assistance greatly.”
That was just because they were all utterly incompetent. Except for the Tall Master perhaps, and it was he who’d left the brand unattended. So no, all incompetent.
Marielle’s fingers tightened slightly around his elbow. “I’m sure Daes can still aid you from afar. I know he traveled widely and was rarely in Mage Hall anyway.”
Daes smiled at that. Well played, my queen, well played.
“Still, we are wondering when you will appoint a new Master, if he is to be indisposed at your side.”
“Now, wait a minute—” Daes started.
“He certainly will be very occupied by his new duties,” said Marielle, her sweet, courtly voice subtly biting. “I shall think on the matter.”
Daes gritted his teeth. “Now, that’s really not necessary. I can be as much a part of Mage Hall as I ever was. As you said, I traveled all the time anyway. Were you not just asking for my help as to where to house new slaves?”
“I wasn’t asking for help.” Seulka blinked, her face innocently blank. “You merely offered it.”
Was she mocking him? He scowled. Fool. Or had she only been playing stupid all along? Trying to make him underestimate her? Mage Hall was his, and they were not taking it away from him.
“Oh, look, Daes,” Marielle said sweetly as if suddenly distracted by a butterfly. “Priestess Siata has arrived. We must greet her, Lady Seulka, if you’ll forgive us.”
“Of course,” Seulka cooed, bowing with appropriate deference.
“I promise you I will think on your concerns, never fear,” Marielle said, and she led him away, like a horse to the stables.
He stayed as quiet as he could manage for the rest of the affair. Small talk had never been his strength anyway, and his concerns over that discussion burbled just under the surface of his thoughts. He didn’t want them escaping accidentally in front of someone inopportune.
He downed brandy instead, which tended to make him more quiet and brooding, not less, and let her lead him about. Like a pet. Like a damn trained monkey for everyone to see. He considered pointing out to her that he was not just another of her accessories to be shown off to her friends—at which point he put the brandy down and decided to stop drinking.
Later, when the gathering had ended, they retired to her rooms, nearly alone. He’d been granted his own rooms nearby—not the king’s but close enough—but if he was going to be someone’s pet, he wasn’t leaving until he’d said his piece. And he might have also wanted to be around her, the real her, after the parade of fools he’d just endured.
Daes admired the efficient way her swarm of attendants rem
oved the accoutrement of her royalty. Over the last few days, they’d given up on objecting to his presence, although several still cast uneasy glares at him as they peeled away the layers of feminine show and left the real Marielle behind. He tried not to roll his eyes. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen all that before, and underneath, as his title clearly proclaimed.
Hair down and clad in a pale-golden robe that fell gracefully around her feet, she sent the servants away before turning to him expectantly.
“What?” he said, still surprised by her perceptiveness. Had she wanted rid of them or sensed that that was what he’d wanted?
“You have something you want to say. What is it?” Her voice was sweet, but she didn’t smile as she drifted to the lounge across from his newly added black armchair. She was closer to the fire than he, the wavering firelight dancing across her curves, her feet bare even though the marble floors of the palace were almost never warm.
She caught him looking. “Old habit. Reilin is much warmer than here, you know.”
“Yes. Yes, I was there once. In the Southern Kingdoms.” Why didn’t he just spit out what had been pecking at him all evening?
She smiled slightly at him. “But that is not what you wanted to say.”
“No. I—” He faltered and cleared his throat. “What do you mean, you’ll think on her concerns?”
“What do you think I mean?”
“You can’t appoint another Master in my place. Mage Hall is mine, Marielle. I made it what it is. I built it. Those people, those armies—none of it would exist without me, not in a form that can actually do anything for Kavanar. You can’t hand it off to some ass-kissing young fop. They’ll ruin it. And those three might manage to do it on their own, without me.”
She snorted delicately, probably at his foul language. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate that you are always honest and straightforward with me?” She smiled slightly now, but it seemed courtly. Calculated, although possibly still sincere.
He blinked. He supposed it was true. It was always easier to be straightforward than to manage a lie, but he hadn’t realized he’d been so transparent. He hadn’t realized that she knew. The growing uneasiness in his gut twisted further. “Don’t change the subject,” he said, remembering the topic suddenly.
She smiled more broadly, almost amused. “I’m not.”
“What is there to be laughing about?”
“I’m not laughing.” But her smile only grew into a grin.
“Marielle, this is serious. Mage Hall is my life’s work, it’s my—”
“Daes,” she said gently. He gritted his teeth at being cut off, but he let her. He’d already granted her many things he’d give no other, what was one more? “I didn’t say I would appoint anyone in your place.”
“You said you would think on it, you assured her—”
“Exactly,” she said, sharper this time, still grinning.
“Explain.”
“I simply plan to think about it very, very carefully for an exceedingly long time.”
He rolled his eyes at himself. “You’re a very convincing actress, you know that? You even had me fooled.” He scratched his head. Did he truly believe her? But she had no incentive to help Seulka. It was he who’d gotten her out of her mess, hadn’t it been? Was that enough for her loyalty? “That’s… not very straightforward or honest of you.”
She sat forward, a bit of laughter burbling out. “I know.” Proud. She was proud, wasn’t she? That was it. Proud that there was something she did better than he did.
But that reminded him of the other thing he’d needed to bring up, something she did not do better than him. “You told her you were going with me,” he said tentatively, waiting to see if that was a subtle misdirection as well before launching into objections this time.
“Yes,” she said, serious now as she leaned back on the lounge. “I am.”
He frowned. “Marielle, it’s very dangerous. You can’t.”
“You can’t stop me,” she said quickly, as if she’d considered it. Her eyes threatened, as if to say, don’t make me show you that you can’t.
Gritting his teeth, he stared her down. She was a puzzle. Someone he needed to convince, not coerce. Not command. He needed new means of making her do what he wanted her to do, and he hadn’t much in the toolbox, as she’d just so delicately illustrated. “I know,” he said carefully.
She relaxed. Good.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. Or worse,” he murmured. Perhaps honest and straightforward truly was the best tactic with her. Painfully honest. “There’s no telling what will happen in war. Commanders are often targeted, and they’ll be no hiding who you are from the enemy. You could very well die. It will not be safe for you there.”
“We are all dying,” she said mildly. “What’s one way or another?”
His eyes widened. “I don’t think you understand me. It will be truly dangerous. The Akarians are formidable warriors—”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “But you already know that and have a plan to defeat them.”
“I do.”
“Do you think me simple, Daes?”
“Of course not—”
“Do you truly think it will be less dangerous for me here? Without you?”
He stopped cold. Focused on the war, he hadn’t given that part of his plan much thought.
“I have my allies,” she said. “But I’ve made my enemies too. Demikin’s mistress was popular enough, even if he wasn’t. She had many friends who hoped she’d depose me. Together, you and I have more allies, and I have someone who would avenge my death, which is likely disincentive enough on its own for most.”
He thought of his annoyance at being trotted around like her pet. It had been like that, but it had also been like… a bodyguard. So he had not been imagining it; she had been showing him off not as a new toy but as a weapon. That did make him feel a little better about it.
“Without both our allegiances,” she continued, “my position is much more precarious. And when you’re off and can prove nothing of what might have happened to me? And most importantly, what happens when I die and you do not yet have any claim to the throne?”
His expression hardened and his grip on the arm of the chair tightened. “You will not die on my watch. And that’s not what’s most important.” It was more important that she live than who was on the throne. Something about the thought struck him as extremely unusual, but he brushed the reaction aside for now.
“But it is the most important. To your plans. If I were to die without leaving an heir and with you days away at war, many would have a claim to the throne much greater than yours.”
“Without you, I haven’t any claim at all.” In many of their eyes, he barely had a claim to nobility.
“I know. A challenger might cement their claim before you can even return. Now that is actually a very good incentive to slice my throat, don’t you think?” She smiled sweetly now, and it terrified him a little.
“I’ll kill them before they can do that to you,” he vowed. His brain was suddenly racing. Such challengers with a competing claim could be easily identified. In truth, he’d already been watching several. Perhaps they needed a clear demonstration of just who was king—in truth and in practice, if not in title. Or perhaps they might even need to meet the mistress’s bitter end. He made a mental note to isolate as many upstarts as possible and find some weak spot, an arm he could twist if needed.
“You’ll kill them if you are here by my side. But how will you kill them from days away at war?”
He scowled at her for a long time, and she met his eyes with the calm certainty of someone sure she was right. Finally, he sighed. “You win. But I still don’t like it. And if they try to make a play for the throne while we’re both gone from Evrical?”
She smiled. “Well, if we die, we won’t care. And if we win, we’ll return with a seasoned army at our backs.”
“And scores of mages at my command. Assuming
you’re sincere about not replacing me.”
She pouted. “What would ever make you think I wouldn’t tell you the absolute truth?” And then she grinned.
And to his surprise, he found himself grinning right back.
5
Control
Miara lay on a dark, nearly black couch in her rooms and held the map of Panar above her. Its fine brown and black lines were scrawled in charcoal and ink, then sealed. Some careful hand had drawn in some lovely details. Each of the north, west, and east gates were illustrated in stony gray. The harbor was filled with tiny blue waves and a great sailing ship. Temples and markets and barracks were all marked. None of them sparked any further ideas beyond the one that was itching in her brain, wanting to get out.
Near the door, Kalan cleared her throat as the door whispered open. “King Aven to see you, my lady.”
She sat up to find Aven already halfway to her couch, smiling. She scooted over to make room for him.
“So, about recruiting more mages,” he said, holding out a sheet of fine vellum.
“Yes?” She raised an eyebrow and took the offered sheet.
“It’s an announcement I’ve been working on.”
The sheet before her was covered with text written in a fine, elaborate hand. The beautiful words detailed the attack on the city, Aven’s ascension to king, and the start of the war with Kavanar. It ended with a call for more mages, instructing them to come to Ranok.
And to find her. Seek out Arms Master Floren for further instructions.
She stared wide-eyed for a moment, uncomprehending. For a moment, she felt like twelve dozen eyes were all looking at her, and memories of the vast expanse of the city sweeping out around her and the sheer number of people in it made her balk. And then the practical part of her caught up with her instincts.
What else were they going to do? Who else could they send mages to?
She looked up at him, crushing the fear down and nodding resolutely. “Good. I’ll be ready.”