“She'll have to kill him,” Desmond's voice was emotionless. “I know.” He put the tablet back in Mariah's lap, standing up. “She won't find him, though. He's too quick; too smart. But if she does….”
“I won't tell you,” Mariah said, and he shrugged.
“I’ll know,” he replied. “When a Maestro loses a Tiro, they always know.”
Chapter 2
“Mmm,” Nathaniel cuddled into Eliza in the late morning sun. Ten a.m. was usually the time when they could steal a moment together, sinking onto the bed. Some mornings it was sensual; some it was simply sweet as they held each other tight. Eight months together was a heaven they never thought they would have. And although Nathaniel's mind was still conflicted with the limbo they lived in; it was easy to forget his career when Eliza's soft body was in his arms. “Ow, your jewelry,” he said, as she rolled over.
“What do you expect? I just came from a balcony appearance,” she said, as she lay her head on his shoulder. “You could join me sometime.”
“On the balcony like a prince?” he asked her. “Maybe one day, Eliza, but not now.”
“Not like a prince. A bodyguard, a witch, an honored guest, whatever you want,” she said. “Everyone is used to you being my shadow; no one will be offended by it. I saw your Tiro this morning on my way out. She looked like she'd been in the lake.”
“Creator damn it,” Nathaniel answered. “She knows she's not supposed to go alone.”
“Nathaniel, she's thirteen,” Eliza pointed out. “If she didn't have an act of rebellion here and there, it would be concerning.”
“I suppose you're right,” he said, staring at the ceiling “As complicated as our situation is right now, I am glad that we are not at the Academy.”
“Why?” Eliza asked, confused. Nathaniel shook his head.
“There was…a boy that, had she been allowed to continue with, I don't know what we'd do. The behavior she exhibited with him was not like her.”
“Like Maestro, like Tiro,” Eliza commented. He glanced over to her.
“I am in love with you, Eliza, you know that. And I always will be. But it doesn't mean that I think breaking my vows is right. Our hearts are certainty victims of circumstance.”
“And what if, for her, he's her one and only? Like Desmond and Mariah?”
“She's thirteen,” Nathaniel answered. “I doubt it. But if it is, I'll be the first to apologize to her.”
“I know this is a prickly subject,” Eliza said, quietly. “But what if there's another life for her? Beyond this magic that hurts her so much?”
Nathaniel rolled over, his eyes focusing on the wall. “I'd rather not talk about that option,” he replied. “I'm not giving up on her.”
“I know you won't,” Eliza rolled to embrace him. “And I will never give up on you.”
She kissed the back of his neck, and he relaxed a bit. Sometimes, when life got complicated, he wished that he could stay this way forever. Eliza wasn't his only lover, but she was his heart. He couldn't imagine a life where they would have been free enough to be each other's only. But it would be nice one day.
Eventually, he hauled himself up. “I think I'm going to go train for a while,” he said. “If the Jurors ever get around to calling us back, I want to be in top shape. I was a warrior, after all.”
“You're still a warrior,” she answered with a smile. “I should get up as well. They expect a queen to work around here.”
“The gall,” he said with a smile as he moved off the bed. “I'll see you soon, my love.”
“Are you going to sleep here tonight?” she asked, and he considered it.
“Possibly. Sienna has been well these past few days, so I see no need to be alert. Perhaps we could have a fun night?”
She knew what that meant, and let him kiss her again before he headed out, declining to answer. Nathaniel's vows were a sore spot that they rarely talked about. She respected them, and yet, they annoyed her. But then again, she was the one who refused to marry him, not quite the other way around.
Nathaniel usually liked the gardens of the summer palace for training. He could be surrounded by nature, drawing his strength from the many flowers and trees, and exist only inside of his own head. His skills as a warrior were taught at the Academy on a daily basis, and in his Tiro days, he was spoken about as the best of his kind.
He was sure he'd pick it up again quickly if they ever had a chance to do battle again. Currently, he was just trying to keep his accuracy sharp, and his strength up.
He wasn't sure how long he'd be at it, his mind locked into nature, when Sienna interrupted him.
‘Arrow.’
He opened his eyes, catching his breath and immediately retracting his magic so that he didn't hurt her.
“More of a check,” he said, referring to the spell he had just created. She was standing off to the side, watching with awe. Her health prevented them from taking warrior missions, and so she rarely saw her Maestros in the positions they were well known for. Sienna dreamed of being a warrior herself, although she knew it was only a pipe dream. She settled for dreaming most days. “Because of the curve of the spell, to throw your opponent off guard. A bit more difficult in accuracy, but well worth it for the attack.” He bent over, putting his hands on his knees and grinning. “Whew. Out of shape.”
Her eyes drifted to where he had shot his magic, and then back to his hands.
“Show me?” she asked, holding out her hands. He straightened up.
“Shouldn't you be with Desmond?”
“He said he was going to help me with homework,” she said. “But he never came back.”
“That's not like Desmond,” Nathaniel answered. “Something must have come up.”
“He is safe,” Sienna shrugged. “Teach me? Just that one?”
Nathaniel paused, trying to consider the consequences. Under normal circumstances, this would be a non-issue. A Maestro teaching a Tiro a complicated spell would be an almost daily occurrence. With Sienna, it was a tangled web of complications.
“Little one, it's difficult,” he said. “And you know that you'll feel ill after.”
“So? What have we to do tomorrow?” She asked. “Or the next day? Or the next? I can recover.”
“Or the Jurors call us tonight,” he said, and she shook her head.
“They won't,” she said. “Please. I can't be a witch with no magic.”
He sighed, trying to think how he could modify the spell. When he was her age, he had already learned it and was using it in a basic form in battle.
“Come here,” he said at last, adjusting his position back to a starter pose. “I don't want you to fire until I tell you, all right? Just go through the motions.”
She nodded, tensing her body and copying his movements. Her magic danced on her fingers as it always did when they were in an abundance of nature. Fruit was her main set off, and Eliza's orchards were well away, but she was so powerful that he could tell she was drawing strength from them, even when she didn't mean to.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “One, here, like this. Two, over. Three up. And four, left. Got it?”
She nodded, intimating his movements.
“Good,” he said. “Do it again. One...,”
They went through it a few times, and he had to admit, she was a natural. She flowed with the movements as if they were part of breathing. Her rhythm was correct, and her eyes were focused.
“Now?” she asked, and he in took a sharp breath. “Please?”
“Once,” he said. “Just once. That's it.”
She nodded, focusing forward. He took a step behind her and watched her positioning.
“Your opponent is the grey rock,” he said. “The one with two lumps. Do you see it?”
“Yes,” she narrowed her focus, readjusting her position to get her aim. She lowered her shoulders and then leaned forward a bit.
She then moved so fast he almost missed it. Her wrists flicked up and then down. Her palms op
ened and closed, and then a blast of magic came out so powerful that he was actually startled by it.
The rock instantly blew to pieces, flying everywhere.
He moved forward, putting his hands on either side of her head, and holding out a shield so that neither of them got hit in the face. The pieces hit his shield and shattered to the ground, making holes in the grass.
Both of them stood in shock for a silent moment. When he deemed it safe, he dropped the magic.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Oops?”
“I wouldn't say ‘oops,’” he answered. “No opponent would have stood against that. Just, sometimes, you don't need to use so much.”
“But for battle…,” she searched for the right word. “To kill.”
“Yes, that would have been a killing blow,” he said. “But we don't always need to kill, Sienna.”
She looked down at her hands, as if amazed at what they could do. “Less is harder,” she said, at last.
“I know,” he replied. “That's a lesson in control.”
“I would be taking those now if I was back in school.”
“Don't worry about it,” he tried to distract her. “Are you sure that you feel all right?”
“Yes,” her eyes were bright. “That was amazing. Again?”
“Fat chance,” he said, with a grin. “Eliza will literally kill us if we destroy something else in her garden. I'm already going to have to explain this to her, and she won't be happy. Luckily, she likes you, so it should be all right.”
“Can we not put it back together?” she asked, and he winced.
“That's even harder.”
She grinned “You can do it.”
“Argh,” he said, weighing the effort of the magic against Eliza's rage. He decided that the former was the easier choice, and turned back to the site of the stone. “Stand back,” he said. “I haven't done this in years, and I don't know if it will go wrong.”
“I can help?”
“You can help by going to stand by the tree,” he said, pointing to the left side. “Go. Now.”
Waiting until her back was against it, he pointed his hands forward. Fixing things, in his opinion, was a lot harder than blowing them up. He had to focus on precision, on technique more than power. Nathaniel had always been good at power and strength, but also at confidence. He knew he was a warrior, and no one could take that from him.
The pieces of the rock slowly fit back together, bit by bit. It wasn't easy, for she had done a number on it, but it was a good exercise. He waved a hand when he was done, sealing them in, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Still got it,” he said to Sienna with a smile. She grinned, taking a few steps forward to look at the rock.
“It looks new,” she said.
“Don't act so surprised,” he replied. “Your Maestro can still do a thing or two.”
She ran her hand over the smooth stone, looking for any telltale cracks. Nathaniel's magic, though, was flawless.
“Wow,” she said softly. He put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her distress.
“One day, little one, you'll be able to do that. I promise.”
“Maybe,” she said softly. “And if not, at least I can say that my Maestro could.”
Chapter 3
“You're distracted,” Nathaniel said to Desmond that night at dinner. Far from the messy and noisy cafeteria, all the witches were invited to dine at the royal table with Eliza. There were always a large number of people at the palace; every night seemed to be a feast with visiting officials and invited guests. Nathaniel always sat on Eliza's right hand side, usually with Desmond beside him, and Mariah opposite him. Sienna was beside Desmond, blocked by his elbow from Nathaniel's view.
“Just news from the Academy,” Desmond said, focused on his plate. “It's always jarring. A whole world exists without us being there.”
“I understand that,” Nathaniel answered. “Anything in particular?” He reached for the wine jug as he said so. Witches weren't expressively forbidden from drinking, but it was considered a distraction, and so they usually abstained. Nathaniel partook more often than his Maestro, although he was usually responsible about it.
Desmond glanced to Nathaniel, and then decided there was no point in keeping secrets. “Sybil is undercover,” he said, “and on the tail of Reynolds, she thinks.”
Nathaniel froze “Reynolds? Your Reynolds?”
“Yes,” Desmond answered. “Mariah doesn't think she is in any danger, but he's high up in his Acheronian order. She is hunting a few that are lower in the ranks.”
“I don't think Sybil is in any danger,” Nathaniel answered. “But I thought Reynolds…wow,” he put the wine jug back, and Desmond raised an eyebrow.
“You know you didn't pour anything, right?”
“I think it's better if I'm alert,” he said.
“You think I'm going to partake irresponsibly instead? Nathaniel, really.” Desmond snorted.
“I don't know,” Nathaniel answered. “This is the first time we've heard that Reynolds is alive in years. It must be distressing.”
“It is,” Desmond answered. “But not as distressing as it would be to learn that he is dead. He was still my Tiro, and we still had many years together. It's odd to say, but I am glad he is alive. For now, anyway.”
“I didn't think of it that way,” Nathaniel answered. “You don't want to see him, or anything?”
“No,” Desmond answered. “I am content to know we still exist in the same realm, despite the choice he's made.”
“Well, in that case,” Nathaniel reached for the wine jug again. “If you're going to be plagued by thoughts, you could–”
“I'm not taking the night shift,” Desmond said quickly. “I know I was unavailable for part of today, but it's not an excuse for more than a glass or two.”
“Spoilsport,” Nathaniel said, having no intention of getting tipsy. It was an odd sort of existence, but he was enjoying it. He had always been taught to live in the moment, for witches didn't know about tomorrow. This seemed to be the ultimate proof of that lesson.
“Sienna,” Mariah's voice suddenly spoke up in concern. Having lost her sight, her other senses were incredibly heightened. In this case, she heard the clatter of the utensils that were previously in the young Tiro's hands.
Both of her Maestros whipped their heads around, bolting from their seats. Eliza stopped her conversation, and the table went silent. Sienna's hands were shaking, and her eyes were downcast. Desmond was closer, and he grabbed her, holding her back in case she slumped over. Nathaniel's entire world narrowed to his young Tiro as he got to her other side, focusing on her vitals.
“Maestro,” he said, as Desmond picked up on his thoughts.
“Come on, Sienna,” Desmond said, recognizing the signs of an impending fainting spell. “Let's go. Come on.”
She was getting no heavier with age, and he bent his knees, swooping her up.
“Is she going to seize?” Nathaniel asked, his voice dripping with concern. He always felt so useless when these things happened, because he could do nothing. Natural medications made her worse, as did pushing healing magic. Heavy chemical medication was helpful, but damaging to her system. They played a careful game of making sure she was as comfortable as possible without more damage.
“Yes,” Desmond seemed hardly phased by this phenomenon, which made Eliza sad as she silently watched. No child should have to go through this, whether she was rigorously training to be a witch or not.
“McDonnell, Juan!” She snapped to her personal guards “Don't just stand there for god’s sakes. Get the door.”
“Sienna, I need you to stay with me,” Desmond said, trying to reach into her mind. Once or twice, he could bring her back from this hell, but it was infrequent. “With me, little one. Here.”
With the doors held open, they managed to get half way down to the grand hallway before Desmond got a hand to the face.
“
Oomph,” he managed, realizing they were out of time. Nathaniel jumped forward in time to help him sink to his knees.
“What can we do?” Juan, the Jeffro Captain of the Guards asked. “How can we help?”
Nathaniel's Jeffro was getting stronger every day, but he was a bit distracted.
“Nothing,” he said, not looking up. “It's fine. On her side, Desmond.”
“Why is this happening?” Desmond was more bothered by the reason of the event than the actual occurrence. She hadn't seized in months, and it seemed she was actually getting stronger on Jeffro.
Nathaniel bit his lip as he kept a hand on her shoulder.
“This may be my fault,” he said. “We were working out in the garden today, and she saw me doing a check spell. I taught it to her.”
Desmond's eyes flickered up. “That's a bit advanced, don't you think?”
“The spell is not that advanced. If she was in proper training at school, it would not be considered advanced,” Nathaniel answered. “The amount of magic that she used was, though. I'm not going to tell Eliza about the commemorative rock in her garden.”
Desmond sighed, holding Sienna's hands so she didn't smack either of them or herself. He felt blood drip from his nose and wondered briefly if she had broken it. It didn't matter, really. That would heal. His only concern was for her.
“She said something to me today,” Desmond said. “That she can't be a witch if she can't do magic.”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“She can. She said that to me, too. She just needs to learn differently than the others.”
“Nathaniel,” Desmond said, as he pushed down slightly. This one was going on for quite a while. “This is what happens when she does magic.”
They locked gazes, unspoken horrors passing in between them. Nathaniel was stubborn, and he refused to believe this was the only option.
“We knew this when we accepted this position,” Nathaniel said. “In a lot of ways, this is going better than we thought.”
“We knew that it was going to be difficult,” Desmond agreed.
Eventually, she lay still, and Desmond let out a long breath, sitting back on his haunches.
“You're bleeding,” Nathaniel said, and he wiped his nose.
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