The Sage's Consort (The Scholars of Elandria Book 1)

by Craiker, Krystal

  Quinn nodded. “You still do not think they will?”

  “No, but we have no other leads. The King is highly suspicious of them, and rightfully so. But I do not think they are attacking our earth magic.” She opened a book to read, ending the conversation. Quinn studied her face, admiring her beauty. Her mood shifted the nearer they drew to Teleah. She no longer emanated a presence of peace, but instead she seemed anxious. Her leg shook, a nervous tick he had never noticed.

  After an hour or so, Quinn broke the silence. “Are you all right, Amarice?” His voice was filled with concern. She looked up at him and smiled weakly.

  “I loathe state dinners with foreign diplomats. I find them draining.” She clutched her Scholar’s pendant and stared out the window. Quinn saw a bit of himself in her at that moment. The Sage had no equals, and he had gathered over the last few months the role could be isolating. Amarice was a happy, vibrant woman, but the role of Sage required something else. Without looking back at Quinn, she murmured, “I’m glad you are with me for this one.”

  Quinn’s heart lurched. He said nothing and stared out the window at the countryside. The farmland had turned a light shade of green since his trip to the Villa. He saw farmers preparing their fields for the early crops. Spring would be here soon.

  The carriage approached the land just outside Teleah. He was shocked to see the camps of Deyoni had multiplied in the last few months. There were easily five thousand Deyoni or more residing on the outskirts of the capital. As the Sage’s carriage passed them, many of the bronze-skinned nomads ran to the edge of the road to catch a glimpse of the magical woman inside.

  “Drabekesala! Drabekesala!” they cried. Women threw flowers as the carriage passed. The men stood, solemn-faced, with their fists over their hearts in respect. The children ran after them. Amarice waved and smiled out her window. Cries of “Drabekesala!” followed them.

  “What does it mean?” He was amazed by the love these strangers had for her, although he completely understood it. She was easy to love, and she was the Deyoni’s greatest champion in Elandria.

  “Roughly, ‘magic earth mother,’” she replied with a laugh. “It loses something in translation, doesn’t it?” She continued to wave out the window, speaking Deyoni to the children.

  “They know you are half-Deyoni? I never knew until the Feast of Fire.”

  She nodded. “They know. I’m proud of my heritage, but it’s not something I flaunt in my role as Sage. I hold much more sway with Parliament if I don’t mention it. I don’t hide it, but I don’t draw attention to it either. Except at home.” Quinn understood. Although she was the most powerful diplomat and the greatest Sage to ever live, discrimination of the Deyoni ran deep. Many of the ministers of Parliament came from smaller towns where the prejudice was much stronger. Even many of the Scholars still held some prejudice against the nomadic people, believing them ignorant. Amarice was smart to downplay her Deyoni side.

  The Deyoni camps gave way to the parts of Teleah that rested outside the city walls. Amarice reached into her bag and pulled out a headpiece. The Sage’s Diadem. Quinn had never seen her wear it. She placed it on her hair. The thin silver metal curved around her head, meeting in the center in the shape of a tree. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds lined the band across her forehead, representing fire, water, earth, and air.

  She wore it well. The moment she placed the diadem on her head, her posture changed. She exuded an air of confidence and authority that she did not wear at the Villa. Quinn noticed the instant she transitioned from Amarice to Sage. If her earlier anxiety was still present, he could not see it. The woman before him was staggering. This was the Sage he had always imagined. This woman was the stuff of legends. He felt a sense of intimidation he had not felt since his arrival at the Villa two months prior.

  The carriage passed through the city gates and ascended the hill toward the palace. Part of him expected there to be fanfare; the Sage deserved it. But her carriage was one of many on the road, and, if anyone noticed the Sage’s symbol, they did not acknowledge it. Still, he believed she should be revered with cheers and trumpets.

  Pulling his eyes away from the beautiful woman, Quinn looked out the window. He had never been this close to the palace, and now he was attending dinner and staying the night there. He could hardly believe what his life had become. The palace walls climbed into the sky, the same sparkling white stone of the Sage’s Villa. Here, though, the towers reached several stories high. Marble balconies were scattered throughout the wide, arched windows. Massive gardens with landscaped hedges surrounded the vast palace. The carriage crossed the stone bridge that sat over the small Teleah River, and for the first time, Quinn could accurately experience the magnitude of the ancient architectural feat that stood before him. He gasped.

  Amarice smiled at him. “Welcome to the palace of reigning King Roland, my dear apprentice.” She let him marvel in silence until the horse stopped at the palace gates. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  The driver opened the door and took the Sage’s hand to escort her to the ground. Quinn exited behind her. He looked around: the giant city of Teleah seemed so small from the top of the hill. He could see the Academy at the foot of the hill, a collection of stone buildings that looked more like they were meant for dolls instead of humans. To the north, he could see the Sage’s Mountains, hardly believing they were only a few hours’ ride from where he stood. The palace seemed to shrink everything surrounding it.

  Quinn followed the Sage through the three-story gates and into the hall, where they were greeted by a butler. The butler bowed his head and pulled his hand to his brow in greeting. “My lady Sage.” Amarice greeted him warmly and by name. Quinn noticed she did this to all the palace staff she encountered; even if she did not know their name, she greeted them as if they were old friends. Quinn could only smile and give short responses. He was too busy admiring the brightly-painted murals and impressive construction illuminated by the sunlight that shone through the large stained-glass windows.

  The butler led them to their rooms, and two attendants followed with Quinn and Amarice’s belongings. They climbed several staircases before entering a large wing full of guest rooms. The butler stopped at two doors, side-by-side, and handed each of them a key before departing. Amarice unlocked the room to her door then turned to Quinn. “Get settled in and ready for dinner. The baths are down the hall to the right. Be ready in an hour and a half. I want to introduce you to the king before dinner. Find a maid if you get lost.”

  ***

  Quinn bathed and dressed quickly then rested for a while in his room. He was glad to be out of the cramped carriage. He stretched out on the oversized bed with satin blankets and pillows. A small door led out to a balcony, which provided him an overwhelming view of the gardens and, beyond, the early spring colors of the Teleah countryside.

  After exactly an hour and a half, Quinn knocked on Amarice’s door. “Come in,” she yelled through the closed door.

  Quinn entered tentatively, for she never allowed anyone in her bedroom at home. He found her standing near a full-sized mirror. He stopped short and gasped. In the mirror, he could see her from every angle. Her long black dress was a form-fitting velvet, accentuating her hips. Her breasts were in perfect form, and a keyhole in the neckline gave a subtle peek. He had the strong to desire to run his hands down the length of her exposed back..

  She heard his gasp and turned to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

  “You’re beautiful. I mean, I—Sorry.” Amarice smiled. She turned her whole body toward him now to see him. His black, silk shirt tightened across his flat abdomen and muscular arms. To her delight, he wore his leather pants again, laces beckoning her gaze. She met his eyes; although his handsome face still had a boyish curve, he had changed. The confidence he had begun to build in his apprenticeship had turned him into a man.

  “Don’t apologize. You look great yourself. I’m almost ready.” She turned back to the mirror
and began fumbling with her diamond necklace. “Damn it!” She could not get the clasp to stay open long enough to fasten. “Can you put this necklace on me?” she asked, exasperated.

  Quinn approached her, and he felt far more nervous than he should. It’s just a necklace, he told himself. He stood behind her, and took the ends of the necklace from her fingers. Their hands touched, and he tried to convince himself he had imagined the sparks. Amarice could feel his warm breath and soft hands. She ached to have him touch her, to put his arms around her. She inhaled deeply. Quinn took longer than he probably should have to fasten the necklace, but he did it. His hands grazed the back of her neck. She shivered.

  He stepped back quickly, forcing himself to steady his breathing. They stood there wordlessly for a few moments, trying not to stare at each other. “Well,” Amarice finally broke the heavy silence. “Are you ready to meet the king?”

  ***

  Quinn followed Amarice into a grand parlor. His nerves threatened to take over, both from his exchange with Amarice and the imminent moment in which he would meet the king of Elandria. He tried to calm himself, but watching Amarice’s hips sway as she walked did nothing to help his thoughts. He sighed and focused on the back of her head instead.

  The King’s parlor was nothing short of ostentatious. Exquisitely carved marble columns reached to the domed ceiling, where an incredible mural of the construction of Teleah was painted. The walls of the parlor had floral designs where they were not covered by heavy velvet tapestries. Candelabras glowed on fine wooden tables, next to oversized sofas upholstered in finest fabric. Quinn struggled to keep his jaw from dropping at the elaborate décor.

  The Sage approached two men chatting near a side door, and Quinn realized one of them was the King. “Amarice!” the King exclaimed with a smile. The rotund man had a childlike grin set upon his dark face. What little hair remained on his head was greyish in color, contrasting with the elaborate golden crown he wore. His heavy brocade tunic of red and gold stretched tightly over his large belly. The other man, a few years older than Quinn, was short and muscular. His dark hair and caramel skin contrasted with his piercing, blue-green eyes. He, too, wore a heavy brocade, though in black. Quinn noticed a Scholar’s pendant around his neck.

  “My King.” The Sage greeted him not with a bowed head but with a hug. “Prince Raymond,” she said to other man. The prince kissed her cheek, lingering. Quinn felt a flash of emotion that he could not identify. “May I introduce my apprentice, Quinn Atwell?”

  Quinn bowed his head in the customary manner. “Your highnesses, it is an honor.” The prince nodded at Quinn, but the king smiled warmly.

  “Amarice speaks highly of you,” King Roland told him. Quinn’s face grow hot in embarrassment. “I trust her completely, so I am honored to have you here. She tells me you are interested in a career in diplomacy?”

  Quinn could only nod. The King began to tell him who would be at dinner tonight and promised to introduce him to as many people as he could. “Connections, my boy. It’s all about connections.” He gestured to Quinn to take a seat, and he began to ask Quinn questions about himself and his education. Quinn slowly relaxed in his presence.

  Though it had been over a year since they had seen one another, Prince Raymond and Amarice rekindled their friendship in an instant, sharing stories of their travels and gossip about old friends from the Academy. They had studied together, and Quinn could not help but feel they had more of a history than just friends. Raymond was a kind man, funny and personable. However, there was something about him Quinn just did not like.

  Others began entering the parlor, each greeting the King and the Sage in turn. As promised, King Roland introduced Quinn to everyone as the Sage’s bright apprentice. Quinn tried to keep track of everyone’s names. The Sage fulfilled her duty as the land’s highest diplomat well. She greeted everyone with warmth and a sense of poise she normally did not carry at home. Quinn also could not help but notice that Raymond kept placing his hand on the small of Amarice’s back. He pushed away thoughts of punching the Prince in his perfect face. Amarice did not seem to mind his touch, and Quinn had no right to be jealous. Amarice belonged to herself, and herself alone. She could have anyone she wanted; indeed, she often did have whomever she wanted.

  The Lazori minister and his traveling company entered the parlor, and everyone stopped to stare. They wore robes of silk dyed in browns and yellows. The minister had a formidable presence, and Quinn’s instinct was that he did not like the man at all. The minister approached the King and nodded his head slightly. “King Roland,” he said in a thick accent.

  “Minister Kaspar.” There was no love lost between these two men. The room had grown quiet, absorbing the tension. “May I introduce Amarice Teyvana, the Sage of Elandria?”

  The minister held out his hand, so Amarice extended hers. The Lazori took her hand and kissed it, far too long with impure intentions. A look of disgust crossed Amarice’s face, and she withdrew her hand from his. “My lady. Rumors of your beauty travel far and wide.”

  “I hope those are not the only rumors you have heard about me,” Amarice retorted, the smile plastered on her face not matching the ice in her voice.

  “Forgive me. It is unusual for me to see women in political gatherings. We normally keep our women at home with the children or to warm our beds.” He winked at her.

  The King, the Prince, and Quinn all gaped at the man’s presumption, all ready to jump to her defense. But the Sage of Elandria did not need a man to fight her battles. She spoke again. “Unfortunate. I keep myself wherever I so please.”

  She silenced the sleazy Lazori for the moment. He nodded toward Raymond. “Prince, how nice to see you again.” His tone suggested it was anything but nice. The prince greeted him appropriately, but did not mask the disdain in his voice.

  A bell rang, signaling dinner. The doors to the dining room opened. Amarice smiled at Quinn before following the King to the head of the table. Quinn entered with the rest of the guests to find his seat.

  He had never seen a table so large. The state dining room seated fifty people easily. Attendants lined the walls, pitchers and platters in hand. Quinn found his name on a place card next to a Scholar from Parliament and across from several Lazori. The rest of the Lazori were far more pleasant than the minister. Indeed, he gathered they did not care for the man, either. They asked Quinn and the other Scholar many questions about earth magic, but their voices only suggested curiosity, not suspicion.

  Quinn scanned the table, looking for Amarice. She sat at the left-hand side of the King, a greater position of honor than even the Prince sat. Opposite her sat the Lazori minister, in the seat typically reserved for the guest of honor. Prince Raymond sat on Amarice’s other side, focusing intently on every word Amarice said. The image of punching him popped into Quinn’s mind again; he drank more wine.

  Dinner was uneventful. Course after course of meats and vegetables and pastries was served. It was delicious, but Quinn noticed Amarice had been right—Madge’s cooking at the Villa was superior. The wine, however, was the richest and sweetest he had ever drunk. He listened to the conversations around him, waiting for any hint that the Lazori might be behind the attacks in Elandria. Mostly, though, the foreigners were amicable and interesting. He wondered if a handful of men like Minister Kaspar gave the entire country a bad reputation before he remembered their practice of slavery.

  After dinner, the guests retired to the parlor once again. The King, grateful to get away from Kaspar, found Quinn and introduced him to several more people. Amarice mingled with the guests, catching Quinn’s eye occasionally and smiling. Usually Prince Raymond would appear whenever she did and divert her attention.

  The Lazori minister approached Quinn. “You are the Sage’s apprentice?” he asked. Quinn answered with as much respect as he could muster. “Interesting. In Lazoria, we do not accept teachings from women.”

  “That’s a shame,” Quinn replied. “I find women have much to teach
us.” He felt a hand at his elbow. Amarice. She smiled sweetly at Kaspar, who walked away without a word. “I don’t like him,” Quinn told her.

  “No one does. How has your evening gone? I’m sorry I had to abandon you, but you seemed to be fine.”

  Quinn looked down at the woman before him. Her grey eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “It’s been wonderful.” She flashed her best smile at Quinn, pride and affection on her face. He had come a long way in the last few months. He let himself feel a bit of pride about his own growth.

  Prince Raymond appeared, and placed his hand on Amarice’s back. Quinn stifled a sigh of exasperation. Raymond was friendly, a genuinely likeable man. He treated Quinn with respect and interest, yet Quinn kept imagining him falling down a flight of stairs. The three of them shared stories of the Academy as the crowd slowly dwindled to a select few.

  “Raymond,” the King called, and gestured for his son to follow him. Raymond bid Amarice and Quinn goodnight.

  Sage and apprentice made their way upstairs to their guestrooms. Amarice yawned. “I’m exhausted. I don’t know why sitting in a carriage doing nothing is so tiring, but it is.” She unlocked her door. “Goodnight, Quinn. Sweet dreams.” She disappeared into her room.

  “They will be,” he whispered. He undressed and lay in the oversized palace bed. He fell asleep smiling, thinking of Amarice in her black dress.

  ***

  A knock on the door woke Quinn from his dreams. He squinted at the clock. Nearly three o’clock in the morning. He groaned as he pulled himself from the bed and answered the door.

  Amarice stood before him, dressed in a gauzy white nightgown that left little to the imagination, a velvet cloak draped over her arm. She looked magical, framed by the moonlight. For a moment, Quinn let himself be hopeful.