by Jasmine Walt
Tears began to spill down Rellia’s round cheeks, and her mother tucked her face into her chest and began rubbing her back. “It’ll be okay,” she soothed, burying her own fears. “We’ll survive this, somehow.”
“It’s all my fault,” Rellia sobbed, her voice filled with more pain than any six-year-old should have to experience. “If I hadn’t used my magic, we would still have a home.”
“It’s not your fault,” the father said firmly, taking his daughter by the hand. “It’s this cruel regime. That corrupt tax inspector, and the awful Chief Mage.” He met my gaze with steel in his eyes, and I forced down the guilt that was making my insides clench. “Thank you for your help, Mister—”
I waved a hand, burying my reaction to his barbed words. “It’s best you don’t know my name. Now go, while you still have your head start.”
“The Ur-God bless you,” the mother said, her voice thick with emotion as she turned her daughter back around in the saddle. “You have no idea what this means to us.”
They galloped off into the night, and I stared after them for a long while, my heart lighter than it had been in days. I’d given them more than just gold—the pouch also held a strong protective charm that would help to hide them as they traveled in the darkness. Parados was a much more lenient country than the Northia Federation—several illegal magic users had escaped across the border successfully in the past. We relied heavily on Parados for trade, so the Federation didn’t dare make a big fuss about extraditing those few who made it across the border. As long as the Mundells stuck to the plan, they would be safe. The executioner’s axe would never fall across that little girl’s neck.
I whispered a quick prayer to Resinah to watch over the family, then wheeled my horse around and headed back to the palace. I had my own life to get on with. If I intended to pretend that this escape had nothing to do with me, I needed to be back in my own bed before daybreak.
6
Morning came far too quickly, but I showered and dressed for the day in a surprisingly cheerful mood, considering my lack of sleep. Mages didn’t need as much sleep as humans anyway, and I was so relieved at having solved my moral dilemma that the few hours of sleep I did get were deep and dreamless. No longer was I plagued with guilt or the horrifying image of a little girl’s blood spraying across the stone as she was killed for something she couldn’t help. I was finally free of that nightmare.
Even so, I noticed shadows beneath my eyes as I gazed into my bathroom mirror. I used magic to wipe them away and to shave off the stubble on my jaw. I was just splashing water on my face when someone rapped on my door.
“What is it?” I asked, opening the door with a wave of my hand. A messenger waited in the hallway, the air around him vibrating with excitement and fear even though he stood at attention.
“Sir!” He unfolded the letter clutched in his fist. “Urgent news. The prison was broken into last night!”
“What?” I snapped, widening my eyes. “How is that possible? Was anyone hurt? Let me see that letter!”
“The guards were knocked out, but no one was killed or severely injured,” the messenger explained as he handed me the letter—a report from the guard captain, I realized, scanning it. “Everyone is very puzzled, because the intruder used magic to get in and help some prisoners escape.”
“A rogue mage? Very strange,” I muttered, still scanning the report. The guards had determined that a mage must have broken the wards and stunned them, and though they had a description of the intruder’s face, that wouldn’t help them. The face I’d put on last night didn’t exist, as far as I knew. “Thank you,” I told the messenger. “I will deal with this.”
I dismissed him and then went down to my office to call a meeting with the warden. He came down immediately, both apologetic and flabbergasted. As he explained, the prison wasn’t very well defended to keep out a mage intruder—the rare delinquent mages were held in a separate facility, and no mage should have any cause to break a human or shifter out of the prison.
It was a decent theory, I reflected as the warden and I discussed options for tightening security, as well as the ongoing efforts to retrieve the escapees. But I was proof that it wasn’t always true. How many mages secretly felt the way I did—that our system was unfair, and that the humans deserved better? None would ever come out and speak openly about it, but surely I wasn’t the only one. Was I?
“A few of our guards have already gone after the fugitives,” the warden said. “But if that mage is still with them, I’m afraid they won’t be strong enough to apprehend the lot.”
I should think not, had I still been with the Mundells. “Take three of the palace mage guards with you, along with whatever weapons they deem useful,” I ordered. “That should be more than sufficient, and if you take the main road, you should be able to head them off at the border.”
“Yes, Lord Polar. Rest assured, we’ll soon have them apprehended.”
The warden left, and I sat back in my chair, quite pleased with myself. The guards would never catch up with the Mundells before they reached the border, not if the family followed my directions. They had too big of a head start. They would make it across, and no one would be any the wiser about my involvement.
I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on the paperwork I’d sorely neglected and tossing around a few ideas for introducing new legislation in the next Convention on how to treat unlicensed magic users. The Great Accord was over a thousand years old, formed in a time of danger and strife, and the world had changed drastically since then. Surely we could come up with a better way to handle mage children born into human families? Magic users were a valuable resource. It seemed like a waste, not to mention barbaric, to toss those children away so callously.
By the time five o’clock came, I was feeling rather satisfied. I’d gotten through my entire in-tray. And best of all, neither Frantina nor Gelisia had come to bother me once. A voice niggled in the back of my mind that there was something wrong with that—Frantina in particular had been very eager to see that child executed, and I’d been expecting her to barge in at some point, upset about the loss of her victims. But perhaps they were off sulking somewhere. It was no matter to me.
Finished for the day, I retired to my private quarters for the evening and treated myself to a juicy steak dinner and a vintage bottle of Castalian wine ordered from the palace kitchens. I was on my second glass when someone rapped sharply on my door, interrupting the reverie I’d fallen into.
“Who is it?” I called, a hint of annoyance creeping into my voice. Couldn’t I be left alone even in my private quarters?
“It’s your Finance Secretary.” The door opened, and Gelisia glided in. She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the sight of me. “You’re dining quite comfortably tonight, for a criminal.”
My spine went ramrod straight. “What in Recca is that supposed to mean?” I asked coldly.
She glided over to the table and casually draped herself in the chair opposite me. “Oh, just your little jailbreak operation from last night. You didn’t really think you could get away completely unnoticed, did you? I saw you leaving the Palace last night.”
“That makes no sense,” I said coolly. “I’ve read the report and talked to the warden. The perpetrator does not match my description at all.”
“Perhaps not,” Gelisia purred, “but I put a tail on you.” She waved a hand, and a large black raven materialized on her shoulder. It cawed, studying me with beady eyes that looked remarkably crafty. “This lovely fellow followed you all the way to the prison and back.” She stroked the bird’s glossy feathers. “I put a spell on him that copied everything he saw into a mirror that I can play back anytime I choose. Killing him won’t help,” she added as my hands fisted beneath the table.
“You had no right to spy on me like that,” I snarled.
“Perhaps not, but the results justified the means, don’t you think? ” She dismissed the bird with another wave, then plucked a candied
carrot from my plate and popped it between her full lips. It was a move designed to make her look tempting, seductive, but all I felt was revulsion. I’d kissed those lips before? I’d considered marrying the woman who owned them? What on Recca had I been thinking?
“What do you want, Gelisia?” I growled, swatting her hand away from my plate as she attempted to grab another tidbit. “Is it my position? Do you want me to step down as Chief Mage and nominate you as my successor?” The very idea made me nauseous, but it was better than the alternative. Being a free agent was starting to look tempting anyway. I would be able to pursue my studies more fully if I weren’t tied to my office. And I planned on extending those studies beyond magic, to our human population as well.
“Oh no, I would never propose something so cruel!” She laughed, her dark eyes twinkling. “There is no guarantee the Convention would ratify my promotion without laying the proper groundwork. No, I want you to propose to me first. We’ll go through the customary engagement period, and a year after the wedding you’ll step down and give me the position. Nepotism is common enough amongst Chief Mage families—it won’t be considered strange. Everyone knows you’re a scholar and that you prefer books to files.”
My blood boiled at the thought of being tied to Gelisia for the rest of my long life, forced to watch her run my state from the sidelines when it was clear that she had not a single ounce of compassion in her. How could I live with myself, knowing that I’d allowed this harpy to blackmail me?
“Never,” I said flatly. “I would sooner die than compromise my integrity in such a revolting manner. Now get out, and don’t ever come back here again. You’re relieved of your position as Finance Secretary.”
Gelisia’s face whitened at the rebuff, and she looked startled. Clearly, she had not expected this reaction. “You won’t get away with this,” she hissed, leaning forward. Those dark eyes were frosty now, all pretense of seduction gone. “As soon as you’re convicted of treason, I’ll have my position back, and perhaps even more.” Her lips curved into a cruel smile. “Once you’re dead and buried, I’ll convince the Minister to offer me your position. I am the most qualified person in Nebara, after all.”
“Get out of my sight.” I slapped my hand against the magical bell on the table, summoning the guards. “Have Miss Dorax escorted from the premises,” I ordered as they rushed in. “She has been relieved of her position and is no longer welcome in the palace.”
“I’ll be back soon enough,” Gelisia called, her voice unnervingly cheerful as the guards escorted her out. “Enjoy your last few days, Polar. I’ll be dancing on your grave soon enough!”
7
I spent the rest of the evening so tense that I forced myself to take a sleeping draught. I couldn’t afford to keep suffering through sleepless nights—not when I had a state to run, and not when I might very well end up facing trial for my actions. Firing Gelisia had been a last-ditch attempt to exercise my power over her while I still could, but it wouldn’t stop her from sending her recording to the Minister’s office. It was only a matter of time until someone from Dara looked into her charges and confirmed their veracity.
It would probably take a few days until the Minister sent someone to investigate. Plenty of time to come up with a defense. Was there any way for me to get my hands on that crow and examine what he’d actually witnessed? If the bird had only seen me leaving and returning to the palace in my disguise, that was not concrete evidence. Gelisia could try telling the Minister’s office that I was sympathetic to the family that had disappeared, but unless she had irrefutable proof that I was responsible, chances were they would not indict me. After all, I was a Chief Mage, and the Minister was not fond of nation-wide scandal. Aside from this one instance, I had never been remiss in my duties, and Nebara was a thriving member of the Federation with a strong and growing economy.
By the time I woke up, I was feeling a little more hopeful. Yes, things looked dire, but I wasn’t down for the count yet. Perhaps I could still escape from this predicament unscathed, and Gelisia would merely look foolish. And unemployed. The thought of thwarting her unbridled ambition brought an unexpected smile to my face. More motivation to get my hands on that crow.
But first, I had work to attend to. I had to go about my business as usual, or the staff would talk. The servants heard and saw everything, and they would already be speculating about Gelisia’s impromptu ejection from the palace grounds last night and her parting threat against me.
I only managed to get about half an hour’s work done before my phone rang. “What is it?” I answered, trying not to sound irritated.
“Lord Polar,” my secretary said, “an important guest is here to see you. Secretary Garrett Toring from Dara. He flew in just this morning.”
My blood turned to ice. Garrett Toring was the Secretary of Justice. “Did he tell you what he wants to see me about?” I asked, stalling.
“I gather it’s about the Plassis Prison break, my lord.”
I held in a sigh. “Please send him in.”
Footsteps sounded, and I stood up as the door opened. “Lord Polar,” my secretary said, entering the room. A tall, lean mage followed in on her heels, meeting my gaze with sharp hazel eyes. “This is Garrett Toring, the Secretary of Justice.”
“We’ve met,” I said easily, extending a hand to the man who might very well become my worst enemy. We’d seen each other at several Conventions but never exchanged more than a few sentences. “Welcome to Nebara, Secretary Toring.”
“Thank you.” He shook my hand briskly. “May I sit? We have much to discuss.”
“Certainly. Would you care for a drink?” I asked as he settled himself into one of my visitor’s chairs.
“No thank you.” He regarded me steadily. “I’m assuming you know why I’m here?”
“I must confess I am a tad puzzled,” I said, pouring myself a glass of water. “My secretary informed me that you are here regarding the recent prison break, and while I appreciate the concern, this is hardly a Federal matter. If it was, I would have requested your assistance myself.”
“Yes, I have been wondering why the message I received was from your Finance Secretary rather than you,” Garrett mused. Hot anger flashed in my veins, but I was careful not to let it show. Of course Gelisia had dispatched a missive as soon as possible. “She would not say who the perpetrator was, only that she had a recording that was concrete proof and that I must come to see it in person. I have already notified her of my arrival, and she is coming here shortly.”
“You did what?” I growled before I could stop myself.
Garrett raised his eyebrows. “Is that improper, somehow? Miss Dorax does work here, in your Guild. I did not think it would be strange to ask her to come to your office.”
“I fired her yesterday for insubordination,” I said tightly. “And even if I hadn’t, I don’t appreciate you ordering my staff around without informing me first.”
“My apologies,” Garrett said, sounding contrite. But there was a suspicious gleam in his eyes that I didn’t like. “May I ask why—”
A knock on the door interrupted him, and I gritted my teeth as Gelisia let herself in. “Sorry I’m late,” she said breezily, gliding to the other visitor’s chair. “I didn’t expect you to get here quite so fast, Secretary Toring.” Her smile widened as she met my gaze. “Did you sleep well last night, Lord Polar?”
“Very,” I said flatly. “Now why don’t you show the Secretary and me this ‘recording’ of yours?”
“Certainly.” Gelisia withdrew a large oval mirror from her sleeve. With a flick of her wrist, she floated it up into the air, suspending it in a position where we could all see it. She murmured a spell under her breath, and the reflective glass clouded over. I held my breath as an image began to form. It was of a cloaked, dark-skinned man approaching the stables, and my shoulders relaxed a little. The man was completely unrecognizable as me.
“So this is the fellow,” Garrett said after a few minutes of wat
ching. I was charging the prison gate now, and I had to admit it was quite exciting, almost like watching a theater performance of a battle. “Do you recognize him at all, Miss Dorax? Lord Polar? Does he have a name?”
“Just keep watching,” Gelisia said. “It will become clear in a little while.”
We watched the whole thing through, and there was absolutely nothing to incriminate me. I was still stunned that I hadn’t noticed the bird following me the entire night, but I mentally patted myself on the back for telling the Mundells that I was a Resistance soldier. That would throw Garrett off for certain.
“I’m not sure he’s telling the truth about that,” Garrett murmured with a frown. “I can’t see a mage aligning himself with the Resistance. It’s like a lion deciding to run with a herd of gazelles.”
My stomach tightened—I couldn’t deny the logic in that. “Perhaps he’s another kind of magic user,” I suggested.
“No,” Garrett said. “The spells he employed are far too advanced. He’s well above average in speed and execution.” He frowned. “You’re an accomplished scholar, Lord Polar—I’d think you would have noticed that.”
I clenched my jaw at the criticism and kept silent for the rest of the recording. I watched as I returned my horse to the stable, and my stomach fluttered with nerves as I stole back into the castle, still disguised. That wasn’t proof that the cloaked man and I were the same . . . but . . .
“By the Lady,” Garrett gasped as the crow watched me enter my room from his perch on my windowsill. I’d removed the glamour, but I was still wearing the same cloak and tunic. He turned his horrified gaze to me. “It was you!”
I met his stare evenly, despite my pounding heart. There was nothing I could say to refute Gelisia’s recording—the visual evidence was airtight. So I elected to simply stare him down, refusing to acknowledge Gelisia’s smug smile.
“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to get out of this, Polar,” she purred. “This recording is all the proof Secretary Toring needs to arrest you.”