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

by Craiker, Krystal

  Quinn stood to the sound of Daisy’s audible gasp. Heat crept into his face. He felt like he was trudging through mud; the walk across the salon seemed infinitely longer with everyone’s stares. Amarice never took anyone into her chambers. “Finally,” he heard someone mutter. He reached Amarice and placed one hand on the small of her back, and together they left the room.

  She said nothing as they walked through her study. At the door to her chambers, she paused, smiling at Quinn. He could only stare at her beauty, barely believing that she was his. She opened the door, and he stepped inside, glimpsing a piece of Amarice that no one ever saw.

  The first floor held a small living area with an overstuffed chair and a chaise lounge covered with a raggedy blanket that had once been vibrantly colored. Skylights allowed in the sun and gave life to the plants she kept inside. Bookshelves lined the walls, and the books were placed with no order. Pieces of parchment and opened books lined every open surface. A dress hung over the back of a chair at a small table. Quinn had never once considered whether Amarice was neat or untidy. A quick urge to straighten the room flashed over him. He pushed it aside and smiled at the woman in front him; the woman who was no longer the stuff of myths, but instead the woman who loved him.

  Amarice took his hand and led him up the staircase to her bedroom. Inside, Quinn saw the biggest bed he had ever seen. It was covered in bright pillows and lush blankets. He noticed it was unmade. He grinned. Another lounge sat opposite the bed, and it was covered in her dresses, despite the three large wardrobes that lined the wall. A stack of books sat on a nightstand. Thick purple curtains covered the door to her balcony.

  He took in everything, the significance of being allowed in here not at all lost on him. Then he pulled Amarice close and kissed her fiercely. She threw her arms around his neck, parting her lips in earnest. He untied her dress again, and it fell to the floor. He broke away, studying her naked body in all its beauty. She bit her lip, then knelt to the floor to unlace his pants. After a few moments, he was undressed, over six feet of perfect man. She led him to her bed.

  They spent the next several hours learning each other’s bodies. When they finally stopped to rest, Amarice lay in his arms. “Quinn?”

  “Hmm?” He was love-drunk and barely coherent.

  “I have too many wardrobes.” He looked at her, puzzled at her idea of pillow talk. “I just mean, if you wanted to move your belongings in here, I have plenty of room.”

  Quinn propped himself on his elbow to look in her eyes. “Is the Sage asking me to move in with her?”

  She looked embarrassed, which only endeared her to him more. “Only if you want to. I mean, I don’t really want to spend a night without you by my side, so it just seems as if it would make more sense to keep your things in here.”

  He chuckled and kissed her. “It makes perfect sense.” And he pulled her on top of him once again. Tomorrow, they could combat the evil that had infiltrated their peaceful country. But for today, they would simply be together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and overcome by love.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Quinn’s pure happiness lasted for a week. Every morning, he woke to Amarice in his arms and made love to her before breakfast. Every day, they spent in each other’s company, sharing the parts of themselves they had never told another soul. And every night, he worshipped her in their bed before kissing her goodnight.

  But after a week, a Messenger arrived from the palace while the Villa residents ate lunch. Amarice offered the young lady Messenger a place at the table before opening the letter. Quinn smiled, wondering how Amarice could continue to be even more amazing than the day before. Then he noticed her face change into a look of panic. “Amarice? What is it?”

  She handed him the letter, eyes wide, and called for Madge. Quinn quickly scanned the letter; the King was arriving at the Villa the day after tomorrow. He had news about the man named Charles. At first Quinn thought Amarice looked panicked over news of her attackers; then he scanned the table and remembered the twenty additional Scholars who currently stayed at the Villa.

  “Quinn, I cannot…it’s too much…”

  Madge bustled into the veranda at that moment, startled by Amarice’s panicked cry. Quinn handed her the letter. The head-of-house met the Sage’s eyes. “How on earth are we going to fit that many people here?” Amarice shrugged and tears rolled down her face. The trauma was too fresh to deal with the task of preparing for a royal visit. Madge looked as if she might cry. The rest of the table looked on at the two women.

  Quinn spoke. “Get everyone in here. We will make it work.” Madge nodded and went to collect the Scholars and house staff who were not at lunch. Amarice sat back down and buried her head in her hands. Quinn patted her back in reassurance. He could not help but smile to himself. The woman had used extraordinarily powerful magic to kill three attackers, but she found herself flustered at preparing her home for the King.

  Once the entire residency of the Villa had made their way to the veranda, Quinn took charge in explaining the situation. Many offered to double up their rooms for a few nights, and several offered to go visit the capital. He made sure everyone took on some of the responsibility of preparing the Villa, then sent everyone on their way to pack up and clean their rooms.

  “Thank you,” Amarice whispered with grateful eyes. “I’m not quite up to mundane details, and the Villa has never been so full.” She squeezed his hand.

  He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Anything for you.” He finished his lunch without saying much, musing on how his role had shifted. Taking charge had never been a skill of his, but he had stepped up without a thought. He spent the rest of the afternoon and the next day answering questions from Scholars and house staff. Somehow, he had become an authority in the house. Every time it felt too surreal, he kissed Amarice.

  By the time the King arrived, the Villa sparkled, and rooms were prepared for the royal company. Amarice had rewarded Quinn generously for his leadership; he had struggled to remove himself from the bed and could not keep his thoughts appropriate all morning. Amarice, on the other hand, had become withdrawn since breakfast. He knew she worried about the King’s news, whether she would admit it or not. He stayed close to her, placing a hand on her back or a kiss on her cheek to assure her she would not face the news alone.

  The King arrived with no pomp and circumstance. One palace carriage pulled in front of the Villa, and a handful of armed guards rode in on horses. Everyone from the Villa spanned the garden to greet King Roland on his arrival. Scholars chattered in excitement at the prospect of meeting the King. Quinn marveled at how unexciting it was now to see Roland, and once again fought off a feeling of surrealism.

  Amarice stood at the edge of the garden with Quinn. The driver opened the carriage door. The Chief Inquisitor stepped out first, followed by the Prince. Quinn placed a hand on Amarice’s hip without thinking; though he liked the Prince and they had shared much during Amarice’s kidnapping and recovery, he could not help the twinge of jealousy. Amarice did not move, allowing his hand to rest where it lay.

  The King stepped out of the carriage, royal blue traveling clothes stretched tight over his belly. Quinn had not noticed how much weight the man had acquired recently and realized the attacks had taken their toll on more than just Amarice and himself. Roland smiled upon seeing Amarice, but he could not hide the stress and exhaustion in his eyes.

  The King grabbed Amarice in a strong hug. “You look well, my dear,” he told her. Then he turned to Quinn and embraced him. “I assume you have taken good care of her, yes?”

  Quinn choked on his response; Amarice kicked his shin. He looked at her holding back her laughter. “He has, my King,” she managed to say. She greeted Raymond and Marcus. “Shall we adjourn to my study? My head-of-house can show your guards to their rooms.” The King nodded, and Amarice turned to lead them through the Villa to her study. Out of newly-found habit, Quinn placed his hand on her back, then removed it quickly. He looked around an
d met Raymond’s eyes. The Prince raised an eyebrow.

  In the study, Amarice offered the King the plush chair behind her desk. He refused, and sat next to his son and the Inquisitor on a sofa. Quinn sat opposite to them, and to his surprise, Amarice sat directly next to him and placed a hand in his lap. Hesitantly, he moved his arm over her shoulders, and she leaned into him. The Sage of Elandria gave no thought as to what other people thought of her and had no reason to hide her relationship, even in the presence of royalty.

  “Well, what news brings you to the Villa, my King?” Amarice asked. She did not have the air of Sage about her; she was at home, and here she was simply Amarice, even with the King sitting in front of her. The King inclined his head toward the Chief Inquisitor.

  Marcus spoke. “Whatever you said to the prisoner worked, my lady. He sobbed constantly for a few days, but then he asked to speak to the Prince. He told us where to find the man Charles.” He gestured to Raymond.

  “Charles Chambers holds church every day of the week in a village about a week’s journey from here. From what we can gather, he appears to have come out of nowhere. He preaches about the dominance of men over women and the evils of magic, as you suspected.” Raymond cleared his throat. “The religion appears to be similar to other rural religions: there is a patron god, a mother goddess, and a punisher god.”

  Quinn nodded. His own upbringing had taught him of a manifestation of those deities, along with a couple minor ones. And though his village had a suspicion of magic and hatred of the Deyoni, they had never preached outright attacks.

  Amarice said what he thought. “Yes, but no other village church has engaged in widespread attacks across Elandria.”

  The Inquisitor nodded. “The man must be deranged, but incredibly charismatic. The prisoner and his comrades that kidnapped you”—Amarice tensed, and Quinn squeezed her close—“were not directly involved in the other attacks. But men were promised absolution and reward for engaging in various works under Chambers’ orders.”

  The King spoke for the first time. “He sent men into villages across Elandria to place seeds of doubt and spread propaganda. We must go after Charles.”

  “Yes, Father, you’re right,” said Raymond. “But getting rid of Charles does not get rid of the problem. Who knows how much deeper this goes than a few attacks?”

  It was Quinn’s turn to tense, and the memory of Rafe’s death came flooding back. Amarice took his hand in hers. The King responded to Raymond, “But without his leadership…”

  “Without his leadership, he has still planted thoughts of evil throughout the country! Ideas last longer than people, Father!” Raymond had leaped from his seat in anger. He took a deep breath and sat back down on the sofa. “Forgive me, Father.”

  The King gave Raymond a sad smile. “As you can see, Raymond and I have some different ideas about how best to solve the problem. What do you think, my lady Sage?”

  Amarice sighed and chewed her lip, thinking. “Raymond is correct, but Chambers must be removed from power if we have any hope of combatting the ideology he has imparted on our people.”

  “And how do you propose we do remove him from power?” the King asked. Though he could make the call himself, and he could operate outside of Parliament’s jurisdiction, he seemed to be asking for the Sage’s permission.

  Amarice’s voice took on the terrifying power that it had in the catacombs. “As far as I am concerned, Charles and his fanatics are directly responsible for the deaths of many of my brethren. I would have him killed.” She stood, squeezing Quinn’s hand as she did. “But, he has to answer for his crimes in front of Parliament. And I will arrest him myself.”

  ***

  Madge had prepared a feast in honor of the King’s visit. Quinn had been relegated to the other side of Amarice. Madge had explained that because the Sage and whoever was the ruler were considered political equals, the Sage retained her seat at the head of the table when the King visited. But the King took the position of honor to her left. Quinn was shocked that he was permitted to sit where he was, assuming the Prince would sit on the Sage’s other side. But Amarice had instructed Madge that Quinn was to sit to her right tonight.

  Prince Raymond sat on Quinn’s other side. He tried to lighten the mood, but their earlier meeting had turned tense. The King had not wanted Amarice to go after Charles for her safety. Raymond, who had seen the damage Amarice could do with her Gift, had argued vehemently in Amarice’s favor. Roland had threatened to use his kingly power to forbid her from going. Amarice assured him she would just go without his permission. Quinn and Marcus had sat quietly until the King addressed them directly.

  “She will not be alone,” Quinn had told him. “Not that she needs any help, but I have a fair amount of power myself.”

  “My King, I saw what her power can do,” the Inquisitor had agreed. “As long as no one slips her poison in her drink again, she is far more dangerous than a cavalry.”

  “I’m right here!” Amarice had cried. “If you could talk about me as if I am in the room and as if I am the Sage of Elandria, it would be much appreciated.” She had muttered something under her breath about men, but finally the King agreed. He insisted that Amarice and Quinn would be escorted by at least ten royal guards and the Inquisitor. Raymond had then started an argument about going, too. He eventually won.

  Therefore, dinner at the far end of the table was tense. Quinn spent an inordinate amount of time slicing his steak and chewing his vegetables, trying to ignore the tension. Further down, though, the dining room was far more cheerful. The younger Scholars enjoyed the company of the handsome palace guards immensely. Quinn felt certain every guard would end up in a Scholar’s bed tonight and made a mental note to consider that the next time he had to make sleeping arrangements.

  The Villa residents and their guests retired to the parlor after the feast. The King accepted introductions willingly, but he excused himself to bed after a short time. Quinn noticed an enamored palace guard attempting to flirt with Amarice. She indulged him kindly, but kept shooting subtle eye rolls at Quinn across the room.

  Raymond, who had been whispering seductively with Daisy in a corner, approached Quinn. “So, you and Amarice finally…?”

  Quinn chuckled. “Yes.” He did not know what to say next.

  Raymond downed the rest of the wine he held in his hand in one gulp. “Promise me you will take good care of her.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.” At that moment, Amarice sidled up to them and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist. He bent down to kiss her. “Finally got away from the poor guard, I see.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure he’s ever met a woman before. It was painful.”

  Raymond snorted, and Quinn squeezed her close. “He’s never met a woman like you before. Give the lad a break. You’re quite intimidating, you know.”

  Amarice flashed him a tipsy smile. “I’m ready to retire for the night.” She turned to address the Prince. “Raymond, you would not be offended if we went to bed, would you?”

  “Not at all,” he told her, though Quinn heard some strain in his voice. “I was rather enjoying the company of that redhead over there.” He jerked his head toward Daisy.

  “Oh, you’ll have good fun with her,” Amarice replied. She winked. “Good night, Raymond.” She pulled on Quinn’s hand and led him from the parlor and into their quarters. She began to undress as soon as the door was shut and threw her gown on the sofa. Quinn picked it up and folded it to bring upstairs. “Can you believe Roland this afternoon?”

  She thundered up the stairs and flung herself into the oversized bed. Quinn followed and placed her dress in the wardrobe. He began to undress, neatly folding his trousers and shirt and placing them on the chaise to be washed later. “He cares about your safety, Amarice. That’s all. We all do.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she muttered, her speech slightly slurred from the wine. Quinn climbed into bed next to her and kissed her forehead.
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  “I know, my love. But you said yourself he is like a father to you. Let him worry. It’s a compliment, not an insult.”

  Amarice sighed and reclined against the pillows. She muttered a few stubborn obscenities before admitting Quinn was right. He laughed at her, and she hit him with a pillow. “Besides, you cannot do everything yourself.” She gave him a defiant look until he met her lips with his and shifted to be on top of her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It felt strange to see Amarice on a horse in traveling clothes, Quinn mused as he rode behind her. It was not that she looked out of place; indeed, she seemed rather at ease on a horse, hair windblown and face dusty from the road. But he had never seen her fall into such an ordinary role. The King had offered her a palace carriage, but Amarice had refused, much to Quinn’s chagrin. She was already upset about the number of kings’ guard that were accompanying them and felt a carriage might tip off Charles before they arrived.

  She was right, of course, but on this third day, Quinn was tired of riding. Every muscle ached, and he wanted to lay on his overstuffed bed for a week. They were at least two days out from Headham, the village in the southern moorlands where Charles Chambers kept church. Though he had grown up riding horses, he had never ventured more than a day’s ride from Corthy.

  If Amarice felt the same, she did not reveal it. In her posture, her demeanor, Quinn could see her Deyoni blood. She traveled well, and looked as beautiful as ever in her flared pantaloons and woven tunic typical of the horse-backed Deyoni women. She laughed heartily at Raymond’s inappropriate stories and joked with the kings’ guard, who grew more enamored by her each day. More than once, Quinn had approached a group of them and heard their boyish wonderings. They silenced themselves whenever Quinn drew near. On one such occasion, he had simply told them the answer to their question about Amarice was “yes” before riding off with a grin.