by Cara Coe
He smiled. “Yes. You are infamous outside these walls. Healed a mortal injury on Lord Hightower is the current tale.”
Lord Hightower? Amelie thought. That’s the man they call Bean?
Her response attempted to diminish the feat she performed in the village. “It was but a scrape.”
Lord Gershan shook his head. “You are too modest. I know the man. He’s proud. Anything he would have allowed a mage to heal would have been more than a scrape. Much more.” A slight pause and then, “Is there a last name, Amelie?”
“I haven’t a need for years. I never knew my father and have spent many years away from most people.” Amelie tried to keep the stress from her voice. Not even into the first course and she already had to navigate around lies.
“Is that so? It appears that my attempt to talk to you only creates more mysteries.”
“An unintended consequence, I assure you.” Amelie placed a hand at the back of her neck and rubbed. He was leaning in a little too close. She felt powerless with these bracelets on and itched to physically demand her space.
“Well, Miss Amelie. If I may be so bold as to request the first course on my dining card. I would like the opportunity to create many more…mysteries.”
“I, um…” Amelie’s eyes flicked around the room once more for Simon to save her from this invitation but she did not see him. She did see a fair amount of guests quiet their conversations and dart their eyes curiously towards them at the sound of his request.
Lotis’s finger jabbed her in the ribs, indicating her apparent approval. Amelie bit back the urge to let out a sigh of frustration.
“I would love to accept,” she replied through a gritted smile.
Lord Thorne beamed. “Wonderful! They are almost through with the preparations. I shall return shortly.” He took Amelie’s hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. Giving her a slick smile over their hands he bowed slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Amelie.”
Amelie curtsied once again and turned before letting the smile drop off her face.
Lotis squealed quietly beside her. “Five minutes into the banquet and you’ve secured Lord Thorne for your first course!”
Amelie shrugged. “I couldn’t find Simon.”
“He will not be attending.” Queen Trinity strolled to where they stood. “I have him otherwise occupied.”
The queen stunned in a jade green dress that hugged her curves and fell in a train near her feet. Her white hair cascaded around her shoulders in loose curls and a bone colored tiara inlaid with crystals sat atop her head.
“You look quite lovely, Amelie,” the queen said, roving her eyes over her form with approval. “I’m not surprised Gershan has secured the first course with you. He is a wonderful mage who normally skirts around such commitments. You would be wise to consider him.”
“I was hoping to spend at least part of the evening with my friend.”
The queen’s eyes flashed, the only hint that Amelie’s persistence troubled her. Her face continued to remain relaxed and smooth. “I have spent many seasons hoping Simon would finally mate. But he is determined to wait. I saw no reason for him to attend this year’s festivities as there were other pressing matters at hand. If he’s prolonged this long, he can wait one more season.”
“What would this pressing matter entail?”
The queen’s look was ice. Amelie was pushing too far. “Royal business. Enjoy your time, Amelie.” And with a nod, the queen moved on to another group of mages, greeting them with kisses on the cheeks and smiles.
Amelie felt uneasy. Where was Simon?
The servants were quickly assembling what looked like a chocolate fountain. Lord Thorne was not too far away talking with an older pair of mages, their arms linked together in standard couple fashion. He paused in his conversation to flash her a brief smile. Other mages noticed the exchange and she could detect a few of them around the room gathering their courage to approach.
They shot her quick glances, nodding absently at the conversations they were embroiled in while their minds worked for an opening line. Amelie spent too many hours at too many parties such as these pulsing her influence and watching for those cues of the eventual approach. She didn’t want to entertain anyone tonight. Simon wasn’t coming. The evening suddenly stretched out before her. She set her goblet down on a nearby table.
“I must find a chamber closet,” Amelie said, feeling a flush of nausea.
“The wine is very strong. I should have warned you,” Lotis said, concerned. “Come, I’ll show you.”
Amelie put a gentle hand on the girl’s arm to stop her movements. “No, I can find it.” As Lotis opened her mouth, no doubt to insist, Amelie shook her head and said, “I do not need a shadow for this. I will only be a few moments. Please stay and explain my brief absence to Lord Thorne. I wouldn’t want him to think I abandoned him.”
Lotis closed her mouth, her eyes determined but considering Amelie’s words. For extra measure and because she couldn’t care less how this evening went, she added, “Feel free to accept every course with him if he is so inclined.”
That did it. Lotis beamed like a proud sister and nodded before walking in the direction of Lord Thorne. Amelie took this pause in company to escape. She quickly exited the throne room and hustled down one of the many tiled halls. They were held up by grand circular pillars spaced out the length of the passageway. Angel statues struck from marble stood framed in between each pillar. Each held an instrument. Serena, Halthea, Disius – the angels of music. They stretched down the hall but Amelie couldn’t name them all. Though she spent years in the convent, she didn’t worship the angels and Sister Patrice had not forced her. For all the stern blood that ran through that woman, she was tolerant of the faithless and welcomed slow converts.
When the sounds of harp music, tinkering dishes, and quiet bouts of conversation finally subsided from her ears, Amelie leaned against one of the pillars and took in several deep breaths. The stab of missing Seth was suddenly present and cutting deep. She felt like crying.
She hadn’t even thought of him as she slipped away for some quiet but now she could think of nothing else. She saw his smile that always lingered even after he’d looked away from whatever amused him. She felt the light pressure from his hand on her shoulder blade when she needed comfort and the full press of his body against hers when she needed more.
The memory her mind settled on filled her with sharp regret. His deep eyes searching hers as he asked her to leave with him. She thought about Simon and the orphans and secret realms and creating a pocket of space in the White Forest where she could be with Seth. The wish was painful like ice in her veins.
It was as much as a fantasy now as it was then. But she couldn’t help but live in it for a few moments.
When she was calm, Amelie straightened. With Simon missing, she had a mission. Whatever reprieve he thought he’d receive once reaching the castle was wrong. There was more to his absence than the White Queen let on.
She would find him. And they would leave. Simon had thought it best to come here and Amelie had relented because it was his and Henna’s secret to protect, but there had to be another way. She would take any other path that didn’t involve her mating a mage and bearing mage babies and keeping a mage house, all the while trading fake smiles with her Majesty.
She smoothed her dress and headed back towards the throne room, her resolve strengthened with a plan. So determined was she to see the night through that she didn’t notice the oncoming ambush as she was pulled from the hall.
Chapter 16
Amelie
Long fingers reached out and grabbed the ties on the back of her dress, pulling her out of the passageway. An arm snaked around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream. Silver hair glinted in the darkness of whatever room she was now in.
His breath was hot on her ear. "If you scream, you will bring in several members of the White Guard and your human friend will die." A pause. "C
an I let you go?"
She nodded. She knew that voice. She'd know it anywhere. He pushed out a quick, nervous breath. "All right, halfling."
And she was released. She wheeled around angrily. "Rankor," she spat.
Rankor gave his eyes a frustrating roll. "Nice to see you too, halfling. As much as I'd like to pick up where we left off, I'm afraid I can't. We haven’t much time."
Questions raged within Amelie but she found this was always the case when in the company of this mage and she trembled with the effort to pick just one to start with.
"You're not dead." Not a question. But so much a question, one that filled the room with angry wonder.
"Not at present, no."
"You're supposed to be!" Amelie whisper-yelled furiously.
Rankor cocked an amused eyebrow. "So are you, it seems. Nothing's changed then. You are constantly berating me for actions you conduct yourself."
Oh, this infuriating mage. Amelie could keenly feel now what Queen Trinity must have felt as she questioned Amelie only to receive her half-answers doused in secretive wit. Just as she was about to unleash a string of unladylike expletives, Rankor was wracked with deep coughs which he tried to stifle into his sleeve.
Both of them glanced nervously at the door, but nothing stirred. Certain his fit was complete, he lowered his arm and Amelie could see a splattering of blood on his sleeve. Rankor noticed her observation and gave a humorless smile.
"Alive, yes," he said. "But for how long, I don't know. I do believe your antics that day on the cliff are slowly killing me."
He shuffled to a chair and eased himself into it. Amelie refused to be troubled by his diminished air. Last time they met he was a threat and she had no reason to believe circumstances were different.
“I would have thought several arrows to your flesh would have been the end of it,” Amelie retorted, but her voice held more curiosity than venom.
“My will to live is strong,” Rankor answered. “Two days clinging to rocks in the sea and the kindness of a fisherman to share his cabin have restored me to the broken mage you see before you now.”
"What are you doing here?" she asked, casting her glance around for a weapon.
"I was wasting away in comfort in that mildly tolerable kingdom your lover calls home, waiting to die in peace. Apparently amber dust is poison inside a mage's body. But your human friend insisted I bring him to the White Forest."
"What?" The surprise caused her voice to pitch shrilly. "Who?"
"Beak or Claw or whatever he calls himself."
"Talon," Amelie said quietly underneath Rankor's impatient list of possible names.
He pointed at her, nodding. "Yes. Talon.”
Amelie’s eyes glittered in anger as she glared at him. “What have you done with him?”
“Alas, his predicament is not my doing. I heard he was looking for my men and I couldn't resist finding out his intent. Too long I'd been sitting idle, wondering what to do now that I'm crippled. He demanded I bring him here to relay a message to you."
“Demanded? You never seemed like the sort who responded to demands.”
“I’m not. But I was beyond curious. You in the White Forest? I had to see this for myself.”
“What is the message?” Amelie asked.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.” He regarded her thoughtfully. "I must admit I was surprised to learn you had made your way here. And positioned yourself in a most precarious way. How you ever managed to waltz into the White Castle and avoid death from a powerful woman who wants nothing more than to stake you is quite a feat."
"I have been navigating myself the best I can but this situation unfolded without my aid." Amelie paused, disgust twisting her mouth. "The queen is talented. She cloaks her distaste for me in the cheeriest manner. One would never know what you just described."
Rankor appraised her with an approving look. "You can see. That is good. She must love what the mages love. And right now you are the talk of the land. She is immortal but she cannot keep her reign for this many lifetimes without playing her part. I knew you were a valuable ally."
Amelie selected a closed parasol from a nearby stand and held it as she would a sword. "We are not allies."
The gesture left him undeterred. Rankor looked at the object with boredom. "We are for the moment, halfling." He lifted himself with effort from the chair. "Come," he said in a struggling breath. "We must save your friend."
With no options of her own, Amelie lowered her impromptu weapon and looked upon him warily. "Where is he? What sort of trouble is he in?”
“He’s being held at the border by the White Guard. Years ago I took a gatekeeper’s power so I got him into the realm but my magic is weak. He was too heavy to carry and they detected him as soon as we crossed in. I used what little strength I had to run. Ten minutes in the nearest village told me exactly where you were. Everyone is talking about you.”
“You left him?” Amelie asked incredulously.
“He. Was. Heavy. Humans have no magic. That’s basically like climbing on my back and riding me like a horse. If I didn’t run when I did, there’d be no one to rescue him. I’m here now. Great Angels, a thank you doesn’t take any magic at all. You can manage that through those ivory bracelets of yours, can’t you?”
Amelie took him in fully with her eyes. He stood with his back curved and a hand resting on the chair for support. His breaths were heavier and more labored. His arms, which last time they held her were corded with muscle, were now thin at the wrists and seemed lost in the sleeves of his shirt. The blood he’d coughed up minutes ago dotted his shirt in red splotches. His silver hair still gleamed but it was the only brightness about him save his eyes which still held a determined fire in them.
“Why are you helping?” Amelie asked. She would go with him. She had to save Talon. But his answer would help her decide whether to do it with a dagger pressed into his back or whether to trust him.
“She thinks you her enemy. That makes you my friend.” His paused to eye her warily. “A precarious one, but I have little choice.”
Amelie’s shoulders relaxed slightly. She gave a small nod. “After we get through this, there’s a good chance I’ll kill you.”
Rankor’s smile was grim and brief. “Likewise. But let’s work on getting out of here first so that we may kill each other in peace.”
Amelie bristled, all business. “How do we do it?”
“The mage courting you. The Gershan fellow. He is the Queen’s right hand man.” Rankor noticed Amelie’s stunned look and sighed. “So much to learn. Yes, it is natural that she would choose him for you. The merging of powers means she would have a persuasive power in her court under her influence. Gershan has seen her perform her darkest deeds and is still loyal.”
“You know a lot for a mage who was smuggled out of the White Forest and living in a different realm for all his life.”
“My mother knew him well. She saw the same dark deeds but did not remain loyal. My mother taught me everything I need to know about the White Forest and that bitch of a queen who plays Angel from the throne.”
“I told the girl I was with to sign me up for every course with him.”
Rankor nodded. “Go back and pretend nothing has happened. You need to lift his seal. It’s the only way we can ride out of here undetected. His seal is almost at powerful as the Queen’s. Meet me at the royal stables and we can secure some horses and go back to the border.”
“That’s your plan?” Amelie asked incredulously. “We can take a couple stable hands.”
“No, we need stronger horses. The queen has steeds that have been magicked. I won’t need the spells. The horses will run at mage speed on their own. They are heavily guarded but we won’t have to fight anyone with a seal.”
Amelie closed her eyes and sighed. She remembered her training well. The fewer ripples her actions produced, the greater chance of success. She knew Rankor was right.
So Lord Thorne’s interest was proba
bly orchestrated by Queen Trinity. Now that she knew who he was, the thought of spending the evening with him made her shudder.
“I don’t have my persuasive power,” she pointed out, holding up her wrists.
Rankor shook his head. “Then use your charm. Your human side. It’s there. I’ve witnessed it. I have had blood in my eyes for this queen since I was old enough to wield a weapon. If you could make me hesitate for even a moment in my focus, you can figure out how to charm a seal off her lackey.”
“Fine,” Amelie agreed. “I’ll get the seal. But I think the queen is holding my friend. He’s a gatekeeper. Simon.”
Rankor looked uninterested. “And?”
Amelie’s irritation colored her voice. “And, I’m not leaving without him. You can find him while I get the seal.”
“I am not here to save every troubled soul,” Rankor barked. “Who do you want to rescue? The gatekeeper or your human friend?”
“We’re rescuing both,” Amelie retorted. At his hesitation she added, “He’s been hiding your mother and the children she saves all these years. I’m not leaving him.”
The expression that passed over Rankor’s face was unreadable. But he shot her a sullen look after a few moments. “I will find him.”
“How?” Amelie pushed. The thought of going to the stables and discovering Rankor couldn’t help him made her pulse speed up in fear.
“Leave it to me,” Rankor said, noticing her doubt. “I may be crippled, but I still have some cards I haven’t dealt. I was able to get in the palace and watch you fumble around in the throne room unnoticed, wasn’t I?”
Amelie didn’t have an argument to counter. If there was anything she knew about this mysterious mage, it was that he was resourceful. The fact that he was here after Talon hit him so many times spoke to that.
They left the room and made their way down the hallway, pausing at intersections to check for clearance. The whole palace appeared to be in the ball room.
“This is where we separate,” Rankor instructed. “I’ll get your gatekeeper friend. You get the seal. Head to the north end of the stables, the building surrounded by twenty or so guards. I’ll wait for you until dawn.”