“You have not yet danced,” he said, “and there is little time left before the sun is due to rise.”
She shrugged. “The sun has returned every Solstice for a generation now, with or without the maga’s dance.”
“That’s not true. Briana danced during the reign of Kedehen, and when she died we had Ghemena, though nobody but the sun, the moon, and the Guendes knew. Soon after that we had you. I imagine the sun has delighted in your dance since you were a little girl. He will be very sad indeed, if you abandon him now.”
“My dancing would not please him even if I tried, for it would be forced and without passion.”
Such a grim set to her jaw.
Touching Eolyn’s cheek, Corey brought her eyes to his. “When we first arrived at Ernan’s camp, I anticipated his mission would bring you hope. Then he turned out to be your lost brother, and I thought this would give you joy.”
“It has,” she said, though her tone was unconvincing. “What greater joy can there be than to have my family returned to me?”
“You are serious of late,” Corey insisted. “You sing only when your duties require. You do not dance. You have even withdrawn from Tahmir.”
She glanced away, blinking. “That’s not true, Mage Corey. Tahmir rides south, while we remain here. How can you expect us to share intimacy across such distances?”
You could have asked to go with him.
Corey would never have allowed it, of course. But she could have asked.
“I do not refer to the miles that separate you now,” he said. “You have not touched him with the same affection since we left the city.”
“Corey, I don’t—”
“I am not questioning your decision. I only mention it out of concern for you. You cannot refrain from Primitive Magic indefinitely. You know the consequences of such abstinence. It will only weaken your powers.”
“How can one dance and sing?” Her voice stiffened into a challenge. “How can one seek the pleasure of the Gods, on the eve of war?”
“There is no better time to remember why we enjoy being alive.”
“Ghemena never approved of war,” Eolyn said. “It would displease her to no end that I am supporting my brother in this endeavor.”
“You are a High Maga in your own right now. It is one thing what Doyenne Ghemena taught you, quite another how you to decide to use your gifts.”
“Did you say the same thing to your cousin Briana, when she laid her magic at Kedehen’s feet?”
Stung, Corey took step back. Eolyn had struck low and hard, at the most vulnerable of all his wounds.
He took a drink from his wine. “Well. You are in a serious mood tonight.”
An uncomfortable silence followed.
Eolyn withdrew and sat on a nearby log.
“I am sorry, Corey,” she said. “I am not myself of late.”
“Indeed, as I was saying.”
“It was wrong to speak ill of your family.” She extended her hand in a gesture of friendship. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded and took a place next to her. “Many have spoken ill of Briana, but she was not ambitious, or drawn to power, or seduced by dark forces, as your beloved tutor might have told you. She was a skilled witch, one of the greatest of her generation. She would have led our Clan, were it not for the war. But the war happened, and Briana did what everyone else did in those times. She made the choices she thought best under the circumstances.”
“How did she come to be his queen?” Eolyn asked.
“That is hardly a topic for Summer Solstice.”
“If not now, then when? Soon you depart for Selkynsen, and we will continue our march. I cannot…” She frowned and glanced away. “I can’t meet him in battle, unless I understand something of what happened before.”
Corey drew a deep breath. The air smelled of smoke and fire and betrayal, and it did nothing to alleviate the pain flaring inside his chest. He might have shared many tales with Eolyn tonight, but this one he preferred to leave buried in the dust. There was too much of Eolyn’s future in Briana’s past. And fate had handed him too great a role in both. Hearing the story of his long dead cousin would not ease Eolyn’s struggle, but Corey sensed the weight on her shoulders as he studied her hopeful expression. He did not have the heart to deny her.
“I was a small boy when the war started,” he said. “I saw little of it before it ended. Most of the fighting happened on the western frontier of Selen, or in Moisehén and Selkynsen. The Clan of the East was divided during the conflict, but enough of our people opposed Kedehen to incite his rage and suspicion.
“The war had scarce ended when the King came for us. It happened just days after Midwinter’s Eve, a time of year when no one would have expected a battle. As was our tradition, the entire Clan had gathered for the festival. People thought we had achieved peace, and it was the most beautiful, celebratory Midwinter’s Feast I remember from my childhood. We were not prepared for an attack. Our minds were as far as they could be from conflict and war.
“Kedehen’s men came at night. They dragged my people out of their beds and murdered them on the doorsteps. Men, women, and children. No one was spared. I woke up, and then I kept trying to wake up. I thought I was trapped in a nightmare. My mother…” Corey paused and cleared his throat. “My mother suffered much before she died. My father was hacked to pieces in front of my eyes. To this day I do not know what miracle took me away from them, what shadow rendered me invisible to our attackers.
“I escaped our house and ran, but everywhere I went there were swinging blades and exploding flames. Then Briana appeared out of nowhere, stumbling over me. She looked ragged and frightened, like an animal cornered in a hunt. She caught my hand in hers and took me running deep into the forest.
“I slowed her down. My legs were too short to keep up. I tripped and screamed and bawled like the pathetic child I was. She should have left me behind and secured her own escape, but she picked me up and kept running as best she could.
“A mage warrior intercepted us. He tore me out of Briana’s arms and raised his weapon to end my life. In that moment, Briana produced a night shade mushroom—”
“A night shade?” Eolyn said in disbelief. “In the dead of winter?”
“I don’t know how she found it, but there she was with the poison on her tongue. She threatened to kill herself if he did me any harm. Just that was enough to stop him. He bound us both and took us to the King.”
“He had orders to capture her alive?”
“Yes. It was a coincidence of fate that I was with her when she was apprehended. A coincidence that saved my life.”
“Why did Kedehen want her?”
“I do not know. Perhaps he planned to possess her magic, though the practice was not yet widespread. Perhaps they had shared in the pleasure of the Gods during some festival, and he desired her still. She was stunningly beautiful, Eolyn, with ebony hair and the silver-green eyes of our people. Her magic preceded her everywhere. One simply knew she was about to arrive and anticipated her appearance with great joy.
“When they brought us to the Kedehen, his eyes burned with triumph. I don’t think he even noticed me at first. His tent was filled with armored men and mages and servants. One bark from him, and they all disappeared.
“There was a strange magic between him and Briana, something darker and deeper than anything I had experienced in my short and sheltered life. I clung to my cousin, my runny nose buried in her skirt, my eyes swollen with tears. She placed her hand upon my head and did not waver. She held her chin high and kept her voice steady, even when the King stood no more than a breath away. She asked only one thing of him that night. She asked him to spare my life.”
“And he granted her request,” Eolyn whispered.
“The Mage King had many vices, but he was true to his word. I was removed from their presence and taken elsewhere. Strangers gave me food and told me to sleep. But I knew my family had been obliterated, and young as I was, I unders
tood the exact nature of the bargain struck on my behalf. I did not sleep that night, or for many nights thereafter.”
“Oh, Corey.” She took his hand in hers.
They sank into a pensive silence.
Lighthearted music filled the air. Dancers swirled and laughed around the fire.
Curse it all, Corey thought.
They should be getting drunk and celebrating the Solstice, not dragging out this wretched story to be picked upon by the dogs of the night.
“You thought it a very high price for her to pay?” Eolyn asked.
“Well.” He gave a rueful smile. “I suppose no price is too high for this mage’s life, though I have met many since who would argue otherwise.”
A tender smile touched her lips.
“What I mean is, do you think it was the sacrifice it appeared to be?” Eolyn appeared to be choosing her words with care. “For Briana, I mean. Do you think she acted entirely against her will, when she submitted to the King?”
Corey let go a slow breath and tasted his wine once more.
Well I knew that was coming, didn’t I?
“I don’t pretend to know the heart of any maga,” he said, “even Briana who, although my cousin, was many years my elder and moved in a world very different from mine until the night we were thrown together in flight. I do not know what she felt for her King.”
“And Kedehen? Did he…?” Eolyn’s voice faltered. She looked away.
Corey lifted his cup to his lips, only to find it dry. Scowling, he flung it into the fire. “Did Kedehen love Briana?”
Eolyn did not respond, her focus intent on the flames. By the Gods she was beautiful. Too beautiful, even for a King.
Corey leaned forward and took both her hands in his. “Eolyn, look at me.”
She consented, her dark eyes sincere and expectant. Long had he admired her innocence. Too long had he indulged it.
“No King of this land has ever loved or will ever love a woman,” he said. “The capacity for love was bred out of Vortingen’s line long ago. Royals fear love and the treachery they believe it brings to their games of power.
“A King seeks many women for pleasure, and he will choose one of suitable lineage to bear his heirs. On very rare occasions this woman of lineage will also ignite his passion. This is the closest they can come to the experience we call love—desire mixed with respect for the mothers of their sons. Perhaps this is what Kedehen felt for Briana.”
Eolyn took a moment to absorb his words. Something faded behind her eyes, a lingering hope perhaps. A childhood fantasy. Whatever it was, Corey was glad to see it go.
“It would not have been enough for her,” Eolyn said. “It would not be enough for any maga.”
“It was sufficient to bear Kedehen a son.”
“You resented her for that?”
“No. No, I did not resent her. Briana was not the sort of woman who could ever inspire resentment. Her child was like a brother to me during those first years, although there were times when I could not look at him without remembering the death of my parents.”
“Does it not trouble you now, to make war on your cousin?”
“You are as much my family as he is, perhaps more so.” Corey reached for her forgotten cup and raised it to her lips. “I sense your curiosity for this topic runs deep, but I have grown weary of this conversation. Soon I embark upon a mission from which I may not return. I would see you dance before I go.”
At last she allowed herself a short laugh. “You will only sadden me further with such talk.”
“That I would see you dance?”
“That you may not return.” Her expression grew serious again. “Corey, I meant what I said the other day. I don’t want you to go. I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“You are a maga, not a Syrnte witch, so I am disinclined to listen to your premonitions.”
“But Corey—”
“I am exaggerating the peril of my adventure in a pathetic attempt to convince you to take pity on me and warm my night with a little of your magic,” he said. “I would not have suggested speaking with Lord Herensen if it were unlikely to work. You know me, Eolyn. I do not take foolish risks. Unless, of course, they are forced upon me by clever magas.”
She laughed again.
Thank the Gods.
Corey proffered his arm, and she accepted his invitation.
Together, they entered the circle of dancers.
“We have only a few hours before the dawn,” he said, pulling her close. “We must make the most of what time remains to us.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Betrayal
Eolyn awoke with a start, heart pounding, sweat trickling down her neck.
A humid breeze lifted the skirt of her tent, revealing a flash of silver light that heralded an approaching storm. Shivering, she wrapped her blanket tight around her shoulders.
A shift of eyes. The flash of a blade.
The dream slipped away with her sleep, leaving only scattered images that evaporated like mist when she tried to grasp them.
A spray of blood. The cracking of ribs.
Rising, Eolyn lit a candle, found her water basin, and refreshed her face. Something called her, a howl trapped inside the rising wind. She considered escaping into the forest, into a world without war, as Owl or Lynx or Deer. But the last time she shape shifted Akmael had found her, and she dared not risk encountering him again.
She pulled a simple dress over her nightshift and put on her cloak. Leaving her tent, she greeted two guards Ernan had posted. At times, it seemed she had escaped Corey’s vigilance only to be subjected to her brother’s less subtle approach. She bade them not to follow, assuring them she would not wander far.
An army was never quiet, as she was learning, not even during the dark hours of the night. There was always movement and voices: mocking laughter beyond the next tent, brutal swearing, an unexpected clash of metal, the heavy stamp of horses. Rough grunts of men and stifled moans of the girls they bedded. Eolyn wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to it. She hoped she would not.
Drifting unseen through shadows, she watched men-at-arms drink and gamble at the edge of their fires, soldiers she did not know, men who would risk their lives for her freedom.
A shattering of glass. A room with no escape.
A sudden grip on her wrist startled her. She looked up into black eyes, saw ebony hair drawn into a braid, felt a curved dagger at her throat. Recognition, then astonishment, flashed across his rugged face. He released her and stepped back.
“Maga Eolyn.” The Syrnte warrior gave a nod of respect. “My apologies. I did not recognize you.”
She had walked to the far side of Ernan’s camp, where a small cluster of gold and burgundy tents marked the dwellings of Rishona and the Syrnte soldiers who accompanied her. Their camp was quiet, with but a couple torches illuminating its edges.
Rishona’s men wore little besides their breast plates and weapons, leaving their powerful arms and muscular legs exposed. This one smelled of sweat and night and the spices of his homeland. He made her heart ache for Tahmir. What she would not give to have him beside her now, to know the comfort of his strength.
A flash of pain behind the eyes. Darkness.
“I am here to see Rishona,” she realized. “Please, tell her I have arrived.”
“Let her pass, Rahim.” The Syrnte princess melted out of the shadows, fastening her cloak with a jeweled brooch. When she took Eolyn’s hands, her touch burned.
“You skin is ice, samtue!” Resting her palm against Eolyn’s cheek, she searched the maga’s eyes. “The Ones Who Speak tried to reach you. Did you hear them? Do you know what has happened?”
Confused, Eolyn looked from Rishona to her guard. “No. No, I do not know.”
Rishona drew a hesitant breath and then said with quiet resolve, “Corey has been betrayed.”
Eolyn’s heart constricted. Her balance faltered, but Rishona caught and steadied her. They walked a
rm in arm to Ernan’s tent, as fast as their feet could carry them. Her brother’s guard left them waiting outside while he announced their arrival.
Eolyn heard a muffled protest. Within moments a girl appeared at the doorway, slender with brown hair that fell in tangled curls to her waist. Without a sideways glance, she dropped a few coins into her purse, adjusted a cloak about her shoulders, and continued on her way.
Eolyn fought the flush of indignation that rose to her cheeks. She could tolerate such behavior on the part of Ernan’s men, but in her own brother, it seemed unacceptable.
The pleasure of the Gods is not to be bought and sold in the marketplace, Ghemena had taught her.
But then, Ghemena had said many things that no longer seemed to have a place in this world.
Ernan appeared and ushered them inside. Upon hearing their news, he sent at once for Khelia, who arrived with Adiana on her heels. Eolyn listened in horror as Rishona described her vision of Corey’s arrest, while Ernan paced about them, the scar on his face white with fury.
“Why did you not foresee this?” he demanded when Rishona had finished.
“I do not choose which visions come to me or when,” she replied.
“Selkynsen is lost.” He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the floor as if divining a message from the earth itself. “We must march toward the city at once.”
“That decision is not yours alone to make,” Khelia objected.
“I don’t see how we have a choice, Khelia.” He met her gaze. “We must strike quickly before reinforcements arrive.”
“What about Corey?” Adiana asked.
“We do not know who betrayed Corey or why,” Khelia insisted. “The province may yet be divided.”
“Lord Herensen betrayed him,” Rishona said.
“But Corey left certain of their friendship!” Eolyn exclaimed.
“The King’s messengers reached Herensen first. The patriarch of Selkynsen has judged our cause too risky, and saw a need to reassure the King of his fealty. It was not his intention that Corey be mistreated, but once they arrested him, the situation passed beyond Herensen’s control.”
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