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

by Craiker, Krystal

  She stared at her gorgeous apprentice. He wore only linen pants, his bare chest slender and chiseled. She reached a hand out as if to touch him, then pulled it back, aware of herself again. She cleared her throat. “The King requests an audience with us.”

  Quinn’s heart fell. “Now?” he asked, confusion and disappointment in his voice.

  “He wants to know our thoughts before his meeting with Kaspar in the morning.” She studied Quinn a little longer before fastening her cloak around her. “Put on a shirt.” More for my sake than the King’s, she thought. Quinn grabbed his shirt and followed Amarice to the King’s study.

  The King sat behind a large oak desk. Quinn was disappointed to see Prince Raymond seated on a leather sofa. Amarice closed the door behind them then took a seat next to the Prince. Quinn stayed standing by the door. “Well?” the King asked. “Thoughts?”

  Amarice turned toward Quinn. “Quinn, what do you think?”

  Quinn was taken aback. Here he was in the King’s study in the middle of the night, and he had been asked his thoughts about the Lazori company. His mind still foggy with sleep, he tried his hardest not to make a fool of himself. “I don’t like Kaspar.” They all stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Stupid, he thought. No one likes Kaspar. He searched his brain for a coherent thought. “It seems most of his company do not like him either. They were friendly and not suspicious toward earth magic. They knew nothing of the attacks. I don’t think Kaspar is behind it, although he is a deplorable man.”

  Amarice nodded. “I concur. He just wants to amend the trade deals, likely for personal gain. But he is, as Quinn said, deplorable.”

  The King nodded. “Then who is behind the attacks?” No one spoke. No one had an answer. “Very well. Amarice, should I increase trade with Lazoria? Parliament has said they will support whatever I decide.”

  Amarice looked thoughtful. “Unfortunately, I think the answer is yes. While that man”—her voice was filled with disgust—“sits so close to the king of Lazoria, we need to do whatever we can to keep peace.” Quinn saw Raymond place his hand on Amarice’s knee.

  King Roland sighed. “I knew you would say that. You’re right, as always. Thank you for coming at this late hour. Go back to sleep, or whatever it is you do in the middle of the night.” The Sage and the Prince ducked their heads. “I may not be a Scholar,” the King continued. “But I do recognize the lust of young people. You have been eyeing one another all evening.” Quinn’s heart dropped into his stomach.

  Quinn followed the Prince and Amarice back to the guest rooms. “Goodnight, Quinn,” she told him. Was that a hint of regret in her voice? Surely, he imagined it. He wished her goodnight, and she disappeared into her room with Prince Raymond.

  Quinn opened the door to his balcony and stepped out into the moonlight to breathe in the cool night air. The door to the balcony next to him opened, and he heard Raymond’s voice from inside the room. “I’m surprised it’s me warming your bed tonight and not your apprentice.” Quinn’s breath left him. He should not eavesdrop, but he stayed rooted to his spot.

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you better than that.” There was a long pause. “He’s in love with you. And I think…”

  Amarice cut him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you going to get undressed or what?”

  Raymond laughed. “Fine. I have missed you. It’s been hard finding an adequate lover on my travels.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve been struggling terribly.” The Prince laughed again, and Quinn went inside. He did not want to hear any more of their exchange. He lay on the satin sheets and folded his arms behind his head, thinking.

  In love with the Sage. He had not wanted to admit it to himself, had not wanted to give credence to those thoughts. It was irrational. She would never love him back, would she? He thought back through the evening. He wondered if she had felt the same spark of desire when he helped her with her necklace. And had she nearly touched his bare chest earlier when she knocked on his door? What was Raymond going to say before she cut him off, calling him ridiculous?

  Quinn groaned with frustration. Amarice was the Sage. He was her apprentice, a fifth-year Scholar student with no life experience. She could have anyone she wanted, and she was wanted by everyone. Despite only being two years younger than her, Quinn was a boy. Amarice was the most powerful woman who had ever lived. She was not his to love.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning dawned bright and warm. Quinn shared a breakfast with Amarice and a handful of other guests in a smaller dining room. He did not see the King or Prince Raymond. Amarice was friendly, but Quinn was not talkative. She assumed he was tired from the late-night meeting and the day of travel, so she did not push him.

  They shared a carriage ride into the main part of the city. Amarice had plans with an old friend from school, and Quinn had arranged to meet Rafe for lunch. Jack’s crotchety apothecary master would not let him attend. Quinn still had little to say.

  “Are you well, Quinn?” she asked, concerned.

  He nodded, but he did not say anything. After a while, he became overcome with curiosity and could not keep himself from asking Amarice an immensely personal question. “You and the Prince…” His voice trailed off, thinking better of it. Amarice sighed.

  “We were together in school. That’s how I know the King so well; our relationship is deeper than Sage and King. Roland is like the father I never knew. But Raymond…” She thought for a while. “He wanted me to marry him, but I had no desire to become a princess or, later, a queen. The Sage is who I am meant to be. And I never, well, I never loved him as deeply as he loved me. I keep telling myself he no longer loves me, that it’s all in good fun, but I’m not sure.” She gave a sad laugh. “You probably think I’m cruel to keep inviting him to my bed. Perhaps I am.”

  “You couldn’t be cruel if you tried,” Quinn whispered. Amarice looked at him, her grey eyes watering. She opened her mouth to speak when the carriage stopped. The driver opened the door.

  “We’re here, sir.”

  Quinn looked outside and saw the familiar façade of Bucky’s Tavern, the smells of the city on the breeze. He smiled at Amarice wistfully and left the carriage. He watched her drive away and forced himself to regain his composure. He was, after all, excited to see his best friend. He entered the brightly lit tavern.

  The dark-skinned barkeep greeted him happily, hugging him and shoving a pint of ale into his hand. Quinn laughed, pleased to see the kind older man. He turned to look for Rafe. His old roommate stood upon seeing him. “Quinn!” Rafe threw his arms around him. “I’ve missed you, friend.” He pointed at a seat near the window. Quinn sat.

  “I’ve missed you, too.” He sipped the ale. “What is new in Teleah?”

  Rafe filled him in on the latest gossip. He rarely saw Jack, whose apprenticeship kept him busy with little time for fun. “He has plans to put the old bastard out of business the second his apprenticeship is done.” Apparently, the customers much preferred Jack’s bedside manner—Quinn could understand that. Sarah no longer hated Quinn, as she had met a Scholar at the hospital who had her smitten. He told him about their other friends and the professors. “Viridion is a strange man, but he’s amazing,” Rafe told him. “I’ve learned so much.”

  Bucky brought out two bowls of stew and a loaf of bread. Quinn filled him in on his apprenticeship, trying to control the emotion in his voice when he spoke of Amarice. He focused instead on his studies and the meetings with various visitors. He told him about dinner at the palace last night.

  Rafe gave his friend an appraising look. “You’ve changed.”

  Quinn swirled his bread in his stew. “Well, I can actually do earth magic now, without causing a natural disaster.” He took a bite.

  His friend shook his head. “No, you’re more…something. More confident, more at peace with yourself.” Rafe finished off his ale and beckoned to Bucky for a refill. “I’m glad.
I worried about you the last four years. I don’t know what darkness lies in your past, but you finally seem happy and comfortable.”

  Quinn shifted; despite his newfound confidence, he still felt uncomfortable talking about himself like this. Rafe meant well, but he did not have the same reassuring presence as Amarice. But Rafe was the first person who ever felt like family to Quinn. “One day, I’ll tell you all about me,” he promised his friend.

  Rafe nodded, not pushing the subject. He told Quinn he had been spending time in the Deyoni camps after receiving Quinn’s letter about their magic. “It’s different from ours, but it’s there. I’m not sure how to describe it. They just seem to be one with the earth.” Quinn told him in more detail about the dance at the Feast of Fire and mentioned the Sage’s mother was Deyoni. Rafe had no idea, as he had expected.

  They finished their lunch. “I’m going with Viridion’s group to Seluya,” he told Quinn. “We’re going to help regrow the forest. The damage is immense, and the Scholars there need help.”

  “Good, they need people like you, Rafe.”

  They hugged before parting ways. Quinn was sad to see his friend go, but was happy he had found his niche. He knew Rafe would do great things with his earth magic. He smiled and began the walk back to the palace.

  He stopped in the apothecary shop to see Jack on his way up the hill. The small shop was nestled between a brothel and a pub, but it had been here long before. There were many apothecaries in Teleah, but none were as famous as this old one with its cracking blue paint and worn sign.

  When he entered, Jack was helping an older woman at the counter. “Not only will this stop the pain, Gerta, but you’ll be much more limber.” He winked, and the grey-haired matron giggled like a schoolgirl. She paid him, and bustled out the door. Quinn shook his head. Same old Jack.

  “Quinn!” His friend hurried into the main part of the shop. “I did not know you were stopping by!”

  They hugged and chatted for a few minutes. “I don’t have long before the bastard yells at me to get back to work,” Jack explained. He told Quinn in a hushed voice that he had already memorized all the tinctures, perfected several, and was simply biding his time until the year was over. The apothecary master only took on apprentices to get cheap workers to deal with the customers. He had no desire to teach or discuss the science with Jack.

  “You’ll put him out of business in a year,” Quinn told him.

  “I hope so. Old git.”

  A new customer entered the shop, so the friends said goodbye. Quinn finished his walk through the wide main street to the palace. He found he did not miss the bustle and crowds of the city. He returned through the gates and spent the rest of the afternoon in quiet meditation in the palace gardens.

  ***

  Quinn entered the carriage the next morning before Amarice, anxious to return to the Villa. He looked out the carriage window at the Sage, who looked even more dazzling in the morning light glinting off the palace walls. She bade farewell to King Roland and Prince Raymond. The Prince leaned in to kiss her farewell, and she turned her head quickly before climbing in the carriage. Or perhaps Quinn imagined it.

  She smiled at Quinn. “I’m ready to go home. Ready to become Amarice again, and to sleep in my own bed.”

  Quinn returned her smile. “I agree, except for the part about the bed. I barely fit in mine.” He laughed, the awkwardness of yesterday subsiding. He may not be the Sage’s lover, but he could certainly enjoy his time learning from her. She laughed, too, joking about his gargantuan height. They chatted a bit about the Lazori company, and she asked him how his lunch with Rafe had gone.

  The carriage passed through the city gates into the surrounding town. “I hope you don’t mind a slight delay, Quinn. I’d like to stop at the Deyoni camps on our way to the mountain.” He assured her that he would not mind at all, and the prospect of at last seeing the Deyoni up close excited him. As the horse trotted nearer to the camps, he inquired of Amarice the proper greetings and customs for meeting the Deyoni. “If they give you a show, pay them in coin. Dancing, fire-eating, anything. But do not offer them coin unless they have worked for it. They are a proud people; they do not take kindly to handouts.” Quinn nodded and fished his coin purse from his bag, affixing it to his belt.

  The driver halted the horse in the heart of the Deyoni’s camps. Crowds of Deyoni pushed forward to see the Sage, their Drabekesala. Amarice climbed down amongst the hordes of people, greeting them all in fluent Deyoni. Their brightly colored garments contrasted with great beauty against their bronze skin. Their smiles were wide. Quinn descended the steps of the carriage warily. The Deyoni studied him with interest. Amarice told them something and gestured toward Quinn, and then they began to greet him happily. Two young children grabbed Quinn’s hands and pulled him through the crowd. Amarice, too, was guided by two girls; she looked back at Quinn and laughed. “They accept you, my dear apprentice!”

  The crowds broke into a circle, and the children beckoned for Quinn and Amarice to sit on two woven carpets on the grass. They obliged. Three men in green vests and tattooed chests rushed forward with drums. They began to beat a fast-paced rhythm, as three women in traditional garb stepped out of the crowd to dance, their skirts swirling rainbows. The air buzzed as they dance, and Quinn once again felt the deepest magic of the earth fill his soul. This dance, though, was not a feeling of fire that cleansed him of grief. The dance filled him with an immense happiness, such as he had never felt before. He felt himself laughing, although he felt disconnected from his body.

  The dancing women pulled Amarice from the ground, despite her half-hearted protests. She joined their dance, never missing a step. She twirled and swayed, bouncing her hips with the beat of the drums. Her face reflected the late-morning sun. Quinn believed wholeheartedly that nothing more beautiful had ever come from this world than the woman dancing before him.

  The music stopped as suddenly as it started. Amarice pulled a still-dazed Quinn to his feet, as the crowd pushed in for a chance to speak with the Sage. “Give them coin,” she murmured. He nodded and gave each of the performers a generous sum.

  Their progress back to the carriage was slowed as the men, women, and especially children pushed each other out of the way to see Amarice. Quinn followed a half-pace behind her, laughing as the children requested to be lifted to his “giant view.” He picked them each up in turn. Amarice’s eyes sparkled as she watched her apprentice. Quinn could no longer understand why the Deyoni were viewed with suspicion; they were a welcoming people, and there was nothing evil about them.

  All of a sudden, Quinn stopped abruptly. A tall Deyoni man had made his way through the crowd, and he stood directly in front of Amarice. Despite his bronze skin and age, it was like looking in a mirror. He met Quinn’s eyes and froze. Never before had Quinn seen someone who resembled him so much; indeed, he looked little like his family back home, save his mother’s hair color. The Deyoni man noticed it, as well. Quinn pushed closer through the throngs of people.

  Amarice glanced up at Quinn’s face, feeling her apprentice’s change in mood. She furrowed her brow in confusion and followed his gaze to the man standing in front of her. The resemblance was uncanny.

  The man spoke. “Eleanor.”

  “What did you say?” Quinn’s tone was nearly a shriek. “What did you say?”

  But the hordes of people had pushed the man out of the way. Quinn tried to follow him. “What did you say?” he exclaimed over and over. The ground began to tremble beneath his feet. “What did you say?”

  The Deyoni screamed at the trembling of the earth. “QUINN!” Amarice shouted. He did not look at her, but kept pushing through the crowd looking for the man. Amarice forced the ground to steady, not an easy task. Quinn’s emotions were strong. “Quinn!” She grabbed his arm from behind him. “Quinn, he’s gone. Come, let’s go back to the carriage.”

  She led him back and pushed him in the carriage, climbing in after him. She waved out the window at the Deyoni
while keeping her eyes on her apprentice. He was white as a sheet, his breathing rapid and irregular. The horse pulled the carriage past the camps quickly. She gave him a few minutes to collect himself before speaking.

  “Quinn, speak to me. Are you well?”

  He turned his face to meet hers but seemed to look through her. “That man. Did you see that man?” His voice quivered.

  “Yes, he looked just like you. Who is Eleanor?”

  Quinn swallowed, and for the first time since entering the carriage looked directly in the Sage’s eyes. “Eleanor is my mother. Amarice, I think that man is my father.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amarice left Quinn alone for several days to process this latest revelation. If he showed up to meals, he was silent. Often, she would see him wandering the grounds or running along the river. She hoped this would not prove a setback in the progress he had made with harnessing the power of his Gift.

  Quinn had written multiple drafts of letters to his mother. The tones ranged from sad to matter-of-fact to angry. Yet he sent none of them. Though he was angry and struggling with his identity, so much of his childhood made sense. He never looked like his blond-haired, blue-eyed father and brother. His father never seemed to love him the way he loved Corbin, Quinn’s younger brother. And though it was rumored that a Scholar had existed in his mother’s family tree, he was the first person in Corthy with the Gift of the Earth in generations.

  He crumpled up the latest letter he had written and sighed. His mother. She was kind and loving, but she had always wished for Quinn to fit in with the rest of the village. She never seemed angry when his Gift ran wild, though. Sad, but never angry. Eleanor was far less religious than Quinn’s father—or, Quinn thought bitterly, the man he had called father—but she was the most adamant that Quinn never see the Deyoni when they set up camp near Corthy. He had always assumed it was the same fear and suspicion that fueled everyone else’s discrimination. Now he wondered if his mother had feared Quinn would discover the truth.