The Tethered Mage

by Melissa Caruso

  More murmurs and a few grumbles were heard round the table. I ignored them and eased into my chair at last, taking the weight off my trembling knees. No one voiced an objection, or at least nothing louder than a mumble. Zaira flopped into another chair beside me, without asking permission; Marcello stood behind me, and Ciardha kept to the shadows with the clerks.

  There. Ardence had welcomed the Serene Envoy back into its inner councils. Or close enough to save it from burning tonight.

  The silence held. Everyone stared at me. I realized belatedly that by sitting in this chair, at the center of power, I’d accidentally taken command of the room.

  Right, then. I folded my hands on the table before me. “The first matter I suggest you decide,” I said, “is the succession. An empty throne breeds dissent. The Serene Empire is eager to welcome your new duchess or duke.”

  Voices broke over each other immediately, like clashing waves. I leaned back in my chair to rest and let them have at it.

  It hadn’t been hard to convince the parents of the once-missing heirs to back Domenic in the succession. After all, he’d returned their children to them; his name was gold. With a united bloc backing him, and his general popularity, Domenic himself didn’t have to do much. Within a few hours, the Council of Lords had agreed his was the best claim to the succession, despite his father’s abdication.

  Domenic moved, with some trepidation, to occupy the empty throne at my side. The glance he shot me was half Help me and half I’ll get you for this.

  I gave him my best encouraging smile and mouthed, Muscati. He sighed, nodded, and visibly steeled himself for the trials ahead of him.

  I continued to sit quietly for a while as they discussed matters of transferring power, and coronations and protocol. Slowly, the pull of power in the whole room shifted until all eyes fixed on Domenic, and all phrases sought his approval. I could see the traces of alarm stretching his eyes, and new furrows already forming on his brow. Zaira, meanwhile, had gotten so bored she’d put her head in her arms on the table and, by the Graces, appeared to be genuinely napping.

  I couldn’t take it any longer. I kicked Domenic’s ankle.

  He jumped, caught my deliberately mild gaze, and cleared his throat. “We have some important matters that need clearing up. Ones vital for the peace of Ardence and the Serene Empire.”

  I strove to appear calm and attentive, and not at all as if sweat were beading on my temples. The day was nearly over. Everything depended on Domenic pushing this through so that we could send the doge good news over the courier lamps before sunset.

  “My late cousin, Duke Astor Bergandon, of beloved memory, was rightfully concerned about the state of the economy in our great city of Ardence. He took steps to attempt to help alleviate the strain we feel from the changes in trade on the River Arden.” Domenic sipped his wine, wetting his mouth under the weight of stares upon him. I could tell by the stiffness in his voice that he’d practiced this speech. “It is my intent also to devote great attention and energy to this problem. But to succeed and last, any solution must come from Ardence itself: from the intelligence, creativity, and spirit that have made our city great for centuries. Thus, we must turn away from any tactic that involves putting Ardence in the debt and therefore the influence of a foreign power”—he leveled his gaze at Gabril—“or that attempts to place the blame for our difficulties at the foot of the Empire of which we are a part.”

  Gabril sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “My brother speaks the truth. Prince Ruven offered us the friendship of Vaskandar, but then fled our city as a thief rather than standing by us in our hour of need. And Raverra has …” He swallowed, as if the words stuck in his throat. “Has helped us uncover treachery and regain our lost heirs.”

  There were mixed frowns and smiles around the table. Some lords whispered to each other. Domenic turned to me. “Lady Amalia, in your capacity as acting Serene Envoy, I ask you to bear witness that as of this moment I order all taxes on Raverran merchants to cease, and all Raverran trade privileges to be restored. I also formally welcome the Serene Envoy back to my court and to this Council. Now that Lady Savony’s treachery has been brought to light, there is more reason than ever to renew our friendship with Raverra. Ardence stands ready to abide by the Serene Accords once more.”

  No outcry followed his words. I felt as if the Graces had lifted a heavy pack from my back. “Thank you. On behalf of the Empire, and on a personal level, I am very glad to hear it.”

  Zaira lifted her head from her arms and winked at Domenic. He barely caught himself before winking back.

  “I will, however, also request aid from the Empire in addressing the difficulties we face.” Domenic’s face brightened. “Perhaps the artificers among the Falcons could work on correcting the River Arden’s course, for instance. I might have some ideas for a series of artifice locks to ensure sufficient depth in the problematic parts of the river.”

  I ached to find paper and pen to sketch out concepts with him. Then I thought of Istrella and smiled. “I know an artificer who might enjoy that challenge very much. I’ll pass along the request to the Empire and the Falcons, and urge them to accommodate Ardence in this matter.”

  A noble demanded to know what would happen with debts owed to Prince Ruven, since his welcome in the Serene Empire was now dubious at best, and the conversation shifted to a discussion of whether the Empire might, under the circumstances, offer relief from those debts. No one challenged Domenic’s decree that Ardence would again abide by the Serene Accords. It was done.

  Zaira nudged me in the ribs. “Guess I don’t get to set anything on fire today after all.”

  “It doesn’t sound like it,” I whispered back.

  She yawned. “Remind me why I’m at this boring meeting again?”

  I flicked my eyes toward Domenic. “To ogle a viscount. Or a duke, rather.”

  “Oh, right.” She grinned, leaned back with her hands behind her head, and proceeded to do just that.

  So it was that two days after the Council of Lords meeting, we prepared to leave. I was well enough to travel, and our work here was done. Lady Terringer had recovered from Ignazio’s poison, and had resumed the duties of Serene Envoy. The River Palace swarmed with all the activity surrounding a ducal funeral and a ducal coronation, and we were not required for any of it.

  Domenic, despite being in high demand as the new duke, still found time to come say good-bye. His farewell to me was brief but warm, with promises to visit each other and to correspond about the intriguing possibility of canal locks. But he didn’t seem to know what to say to Zaira. He stared at her as if he had lost all language.

  Of course. Zaira had to come back to Raverra with me. Domenic had to stay here and lead his city, a fate I happened to know did not make it easy to pursue one’s romantic inclinations. An awkward pity strained my chest.

  I made an excuse to leave them alone together in the sitting room. But once the door closed behind me, instead of continuing on to the washroom as I’d announced, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

  Poor Domenic. He’d never had a chance. Even if she were free to do as she pleased and live where she wished, and even if there were any chance the doge would allow her to court an Ardentine noble, I doubted Zaira would want to be a duke’s wife—no matter how delightful it would be to watch her shake up the Ardentine court. Besides, Terika waited for her back at the Mews; they might not be a couple yet, but I’d seen the way they looked at each other.

  What happened behind that door was none of my business. But I knew one thing for certain: if it was truly what they wanted, neither Domenic nor Zaira were the type of person who would let differences of rank or even the laws of the Empire stop them from courting.

  I thought of Marcello’s clean-lined face, wistful smile, and loyal heart. I owed him nothing less. But I was not Domenic or Zaira. I was the Cornaro heir.

  I opened my eyes on the palace corridor again.

  I wasn’t alone.

&
nbsp; A figure in a deeply hooded velvet cloak stood between me and the next luminary. With the light behind them, I couldn’t see their face.

  My hand fell to my dagger. “Exsolvo” tickled the back of my throat.

  “Good reaction, but you may want to be more subtle next time.” My mother pushed back her hood, freeing the glorious fall of her auburn hair. “There are those who might be offended if you drew on them.”

  “Mamma?” My thoughts snarled on the impossibility of her presence. “How … why are you here?”

  “Did you truly think I would sit in Raverra and wait to see what happened when word came through the courier lamps you were accused of Duke Bergandon’s murder?” She crossed the space between us and smoothed an errant lock of hair from my face. “I came at once. And the most incredible reports greeted me at each stop. Near dead of poison … Taking over as Serene Envoy … You have been busy, Amalia.”

  I grimaced. “It wasn’t my idea. Well, except for the taking over as Serene Envoy part.”

  “But I arrived in Ardence to discover you didn’t need my help.” A strange note colored my mother’s voice: pride. “You’d already uncovered the traitors, cleared your name, achieved peace, and installed a new duke.”

  Unironic praise, from my mother. I waited for the ground to open beneath my feet, for surely this was the end of days. “I really had very little to do with the new duke. And Zaira and Marcello helped with all the rest.”

  She arched a brow. “Never contradict someone giving you credit, Amalia. A modest demurral is fine, but don’t argue points with them.”

  I laughed. “Very well. Yes, I am the hero of Ardence. And Raverra, too. No doubt there shall be a parade in my honor.”

  “That might perhaps be too much.” Her eyes sparkled even in the dim corridor. “But you did well. I used to worry what kind of heir you would prove to be, when you closed yourself in your room with your books and ignored everything happening around you. I’m not worried anymore.”

  “Thank you, Mamma.” The words thickened in my throat. “But … I’m not certain I can be your heir.”

  “Oh?” A dangerous edge entered her voice. “Why not?”

  “I only have a few bottles of elixir left.” The truth I’d told no one else blurted out of me. “I don’t know what you plan to do with Uncle Ignazio, but he claimed he destroyed all copies of the formula. Even if you somehow forced him to make more elixir, it’s hard to imagine he could be trusted not to slip poison into it, or something worse.”

  “Is that all?” La Contessa threw back her head and laughed.

  “I’m serious. He said the formula only existed in his mind.”

  “Oh, child.” She smiled fondly at me. “Do you really think I would allow my daughter’s life to depend entirely on one man? What if he’d fallen into a canal and drowned? I had an alchemist among the Falcons analyze and reconstruct the elixir from a sample bottle years ago. I kept it secret to avoid offending Ignazio. You’ll be fine.”

  I slumped against the wall in relief. “Thank the Graces.”

  “As for Ignazio, he is a difficult matter.” Her face hardened. “At the very least, he’ll spend the rest of his days in prison. Whether he must pay with his life is a matter I—and the rest of the Council—have yet to decide.”

  “Mamma …” Despite everything, my eyes stung. “I would feel terrible if he died because of me. Even though he would have let me die for his plans. He’s still family.”

  “If he dies, it will not be because of you. He is a traitor to the Serene City.” She squeezed my shoulder. “His fate is not for you to decide. Leave that to the Council of Nine.”

  “About that,” I said. “I’m worried. Prince Ruven made it clear Vaskandar is preparing for war. We stopped him from using Orthys to steal mages, and from crossing the border with the tools and knowledge to trigger a volcano, but I’m sure Vaskandar has other schemes in play we don’t know about yet.”

  “No doubt. I assure you, I intend to bend our intelligence efforts in that direction.”

  “I want to help.” I felt like a child again, saying it. Surely that was how she saw me: dozing off on the second-floor balcony, listening to the soothing rise and fall of voices below deciding the fate of Eruvia. “I’ve met Prince Ruven; I know him, and I want to help stop him.”

  La Contessa’s eyes glittered. “Very well.”

  The acceptance in those words fell on me like a heavy cloak. They opened a door to a room where words could kill: where a nod or a gesture could launch ships, send armies marching, dispatch assassins, or set cities aflame.

  But I’d already crossed that threshold. I’d taken that mantle on my shoulders. I was done hiding in my room.

  “Another thing.” I took a deep breath, summoning all my courage. This couldn’t be worse than dying alone on a warehouse floor. “Mamma … I think you’re wrong about Lieutenant Verdi.”

  She didn’t look surprised; but then, Ciardha must have given her a full report. She regarded me with flat skepticism. “Verdi again. Do you have an answer for me now, as to what advantage he would bring to Raverra or House Cornaro, such that I should allow you to entertain him as a possible suitor?”

  This was a delicate moment. I could tell her I didn’t care about bringing advantage to Raverra, and that love was more important. I could remind her that she’d wanted me to stand strong on my own, and that in this matter I would stand against her to do so.

  But sentiment was the last thing that would persuade La Contessa. And besides, I wasn’t sure those things were true.

  “You misunderstand. I’m not asking to court Marcello. I agree with you that at least for now, I need to remain unattached, for political purposes.” My chest twinged painfully at the admission, but I pressed on. “But I do think you underestimate his value as a prospect. Marcello is a talented officer of good birth, rising quickly through the Falcons. With our backing, he stands a strong chance of replacing Colonel Vasante when she retires.” I lifted an eyebrow, a move I’d learned from my mother. “You wanted me to get House Cornaro a Falcon. Well, Marcello could get House Cornaro all the Falcons.”

  “He would never use them for our family’s ends.”

  “Nor should he.” I shrugged. “But that would be between us and the doge. The other families of the Assembly wouldn’t need to know that.”

  My mother’s smile widened. “You’re learning, my child. You have a long way to go still. But you’re finally learning.”

  My mother might have relented in her threats to send Marcello off to the Witchwall Mountains, but still, I thought it prudent not to share a silk-cushioned bench with him as our boat navigated the traffic on the Imperial Canal. I had plenty of time to decide what to do about Lieutenant Verdi; in the meantime, smiling into his eyes without worrying I was dooming him to a dark fate on the Vaskandran border was very nice indeed.

  Zaira shared my bench, making pointed commentary about the various deficiencies in taste of other gentry in the boats around us. Istrella sat with her brother, humming to herself and examining a symphonic shell she’d bought at our stop in Palova. Our oarsman muttered curses at a courier in a sleek little boat who dared to cut us off, and a balding old man on a town house balcony above us burst into a spontaneous ballad in a rich, beautiful tenor.

  It was good to be home. The first sight of the Serene City floating dreamlike on the lagoon had pierced my heart with mingled awe and relief. For all I’d done in Ardence, I had no doubt in that moment that I was a daughter of Raverra.

  Soon we passed into the open lagoon and began the short crossing to Raptor’s Isle. The Mews loomed above the water, gray and forbidding. My eyes went to Zaira, who stared at the approaching fortress, her expression unreadable.

  When we disembarked, I stood for a moment on the dock with Marcello while Zaira greeted Scoundrel, who danced with unbearable ecstasy to see her. Even her and Istrella’s laughter, and Scoundrel’s frenzy of wagging and leaping, couldn’t distract me from the warmth that charged the
small space of air between us.

  “I’ll come to the Mews every day,” I told him.

  His return smile was wistful. “Will you have time, with all the new duties you’re taking on?”

  “I’ll make time. I’m a Cornaro. Time itself must bend to my demands.”

  He laughed, rewarding me with a flash of dimples. “Very well, then, Amalia. Zaira and I will expect you every day, and time be damned.”

  “Besides, I need to work with your sister on that canal-lock design. And help Venasha and Foss settle in with Aleki, once they catch up to us.”

  “Perhaps I won’t see you as much as I hoped, then.” But the dimples stayed, so I knew he wasn’t serious. Mostly.

  No one was looking, so I gave his hand a quick squeeze. He returned the pressure, his fingers lingering on mine.

  Zaira seemed ready to take Scoundrel into the Mews, and I had unfinished business with her. “If you don’t mind,” I said to Marcello, “I’d like a private word with Zaira before I go.”

  “Of course.” He gave me a look that would keep me warm for the rest of the day, then turned to take Istrella’s arm.

  I caught up with Zaira before she entered the Mews. “Can I talk with you?”

  She raised her brows. “Last I checked, nobody had any luck stopping you from talking.” But she whistled to Scoundrel and walked with me along the dock. Soon we stood alone at the end of it, save for the restless gulls.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. “For everything you did in Ardence.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t do it for you.”

  “I’m sorry you had to leave Domenic behind.”

  “Him?” Zaira’s mouth curled into a smile. “Oh, he’s pretty. I’ll miss him, until we see him again. But there are so very many other fish in the sea.”

  I struggled to find the words I needed. “Still. It doesn’t feel right, bringing you back here. You never wanted to be a Falcon.”