Mage Strike (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 2)

by R. K. Thorne

  Even more, she would trade any and all of it to have her sister back.

  Still. Escape? Was such a thing really possible? If only it had come in time for Dekana. But… Jaena could get revenge much more easily if she were free.

  When Sorin reached the far end of the row, she caught Kae’s eye. “We should find out if those rumors are true.”

  “Impossible,” grunted Len.

  “How?” Kae smiled and lifted his chin in challenge.

  “Maybe the mages at the gate. Maybe they saw someone go in or out. Or the healers. Or maybe Menaha has heard something.”

  He rubbed his chin. “And there’s why I tell you this stuff.”

  “We’ll find her at dinner,” she decided with a nod, and he nodded grimly in reply.

  A messenger darted up and handed Sorin a note. He quickly glanced over it. “I’m called on another mission. Continue practice until the third bell rings, then you may be dismissed.” He strode away, a new self-important bounce in his step.

  She rolled her eyes. Please. Fortunately for them, Sorin didn’t hold the power to compel them like the Masters did. As soon as the bastard was out of sight, they’d be off, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  “We need to talk,” his mother said once Aven and his father arrived in Miara’s rooms.

  “So I hear.” Aven settled down in an armchair by the hearth. Oh, by all the gods and ancestors. He had missed such luxuries as cushions. His father moved to lean against the warm carved stone.

  Aven glanced with concern at Miara, who pointed furtively at a nearby table. A whole tray of six apple dumplings sat waiting. He leapt to his feet, snatched one, and took a huge bite before returning to them.

  Gods. He hadn’t been sure he’d ever taste this again.

  “I don’t know how to go about this delicately,” his mother said, “so let’s have out with it. Your father and I don’t think you should share the news of your relationship publicly just yet.” Elise set a cup of tea on his end table. Was there a touch of apology to the gesture, or was he imagining it?

  Aven glared from one parent to the other while he chewed on another overlarge bite. “Because of this dvora?”

  “Dvora?” Miara asked.

  Elise stood and began pacing in front of the hearth, arms folded across her chest. “No, not because of her.” She waved her hand irritably, as though shooing away a fly. She turned to Miara. “A suitor arrived yesterday for Aven, a minor noble from Esengard. Dvora is her title, like a lord. Not to worry, though, because Aven is expert in finding fault and repelling potential suitors.”

  “And also because I’m rather partial to you and not her,” he added gruffly. Miara smiled back at his consternation.

  “Not because of our new visitor,” his mother said.

  “Why then?” Aven demanded, voice colder now.

  “Because right now, Miara is seen by many to be foreign, first of all,” his father said. “The enemy. All they know about her is that she’s a mage. From Kavanar, our greatest enemy. Who just began a war with us by kidnapping you.”

  “By having me in particular do the kidnapping, although we’ve skipped over that part,” Miara added.

  “I think high treason is easily forgiven for saving the prince’s life, don’t you think, Mother?” Aven said.

  Elise snorted. “I would tend to agree, if your father is amiable too.” She inclined her head at her husband, and he gave a rough nod, but not without a slight hesitation.

  “There is that matter,” Samul said. “I will document a formal pardon, even if we don’t share it publicly, in case that story becomes more widely known. But she is still not one of us. Yet.”

  Aven scowled at his father. Miara raised her eyebrows.

  “We’re not saying you can’t be together,” his mother added quickly. “I’m just saying we’re all going to have to work for it. We need to manage this situation and control how and to whom we reveal what.”

  “No. Secrets are what got us into this mess.” Aven sat forward in his chair, relaxation gone.

  “All governments have secrets,” his father snapped. “You know this.”

  “Fine, fine. But this is foolish. We can’t treat her like an outsider. We need to involve her in our planning. She has the best information on our enemies we are going to get. She should be working with Dyon and Asten and—”

  “It is much too soon for that,” his father shot back.

  “We don’t have time for everyone to play until they make friends. Kavanar is going to act, and they’re going to act soon. We need to present a strong and united front, and not—”

  “If I have to give you an order to do this, I will.” Samul shifted from his more casual pose leaning against the stone to standing, shoulders squared as he faced Aven.

  Aven gritted his teeth. “A week.”

  “A month. At least.”

  “We don’t have that kind of—”

  “We should see how long we need,” his mother cut in smoothly. “You’ve only just arrived. Miara needs to earn a place in Akarian society that people respect and admire. She needs to define herself to them as someone they know and could imagine being loyal to, not just a Kavanarian spy. That may take more than a month.”

  He turned a frustrated gaze to Miara, hoping for some support, some clever reason why they definitely shouldn’t do this. “How do you feel about this?”

  She shrugged, although she looked paler than before. “You are all better judges of the political situation than I am. I can see the logic behind allowing me to establish myself more here as an individual. Also, people might think dark magic is afoot, even if magic can’t do that. Or some might worry I’ve tricked you or manipulated you through some other nonmagical means.”

  The way his father frowned at Miara as she spoke suggested the king might actually share some of those concerns. Aven stifled a groan.

  He hated this idea. Hated it. And with this newly arrived dvora blushing and batting her eyelashes at the same time? Bloody hell. His shoulders were tightening into knots already.

  “Fine, one month,” he grunted.

  “We’ll see,” the king said.

  “But we need Miara’s knowledge of magic and of Kavanar. It will make a decisive difference in this war. You cannot just relegate her to drinking tea with irrelevant diplomats and advisors.”

  “I’ll discuss it with Warden Asten and Lord Dyon.”

  See that you do, Aven wanted to snap. But nobody talked to King Samul that way, not even his sons. A different part of him wanted to respond with more deference and say thank you, Father, I’d appreciate that, you’re right about all this, as he knew was probably appropriate. But mostly he just wanted to yell. To turn away her knowledge and abilities while forming their plans was pure politics and hubris, the same hubris that had left them so unprepared against the mage threat in the first place. Apparently no one had learned their lesson yet, except maybe him.

  Aven sat, eyes locked with his father’s for one moment, then another, as he struggled with a response until part of him won out.

  “Thank you, Father. Of course. Whatever you think.”

  The king gave a nod to each of them and left, but Aven wasn’t watching. He stared off into the fire.

  Shortly after, his mother left them too. Aven moved from the armchair to beside Miara on the couch. Servants wandered about. They would find no end of chores to complete as long as he stayed in Miara’s rooms. Their errands were only an excuse to not leave Aven and Miara alone. Which was just as well, much as he didn’t like it.

  It would help him stick with his… decision.

  She leaned her elbows on her forearms and stared into the fire, which lit her features in a soft, familiar light. He had studied the profile of her face for many an hour, and yet he had no desire to stop any time soon. The jagged scar from the wolf attack on her cheek still felt new and made her no less beautiful. In fact, it lent a certain wildness to her that made his heart beat faster. She had remove
d her cloak but still wore her leathers.

  “Well, that was… interesting. Do you think that meeting went well? What did I miss?” She straightened and scooted closer to him as she spoke. Her thigh came to rest gently against his, and he found himself staring at his knee, a new tension coiling inside him.

  “It could have been worse,” he said. “Lord Alikar did call for an Assembly meeting to vote on my place as heir. Called for Thel to be king.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “That was the bit at the beginning, wasn’t it? When that sour-faced fellow stormed out. What exactly does that mean?”

  “Wait—what did Thel want? I didn’t even see him pull you out of the room.”

  “Oh, he wanted to know if he is a mage.”

  And he hadn’t chosen to ask Mother? Of course, she had long refused to answer the question, but certainly now things would be different. “And? Is he?”

  “Oh, very much so, yes.”

  The wave of relief that washed over Aven was more intense than he would have expected. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

  “You’re glad to hear it?”

  He nodded. “Back to your question. Alikar’s call for an Assembly meeting doesn’t mean much by the letter of the law. The king is still the king. He chooses his heir. However, the Assembly can voice their opinion on something, if they desire. And they occasionally do so via a formal vote when it is a serious matter.”

  “Their… opinion? What happens if their opinion is against you?”

  “Nothing specific. They can vote on whether they support the king’s choice of heir, but they have no power to make him change anything. But politics is all subtleties. Our united military holds the kingdom together. The territories fund the army, as well as similar parts of government. My father could ignore them and do whatever he pleased. They could also ‘misplace’ their next gold shipments or ‘forget’ to send forces into the battle. Or a lot worse. Of course, he could then later refuse to defend them in their time of need.”

  She leaned against the couch beside him now, and her shoulder touched his. Hmm. Was putting his arm around her in front of these servants breaking his promise to his mother? If they’d been listening, had she sworn them to secrecy already anyway? No, that’d be unreliable, if not ineffective. He hadn’t seen any of them nearby while they’d talked, so perhaps she’d sent them out.

  Still, he wanted to do more than let his shoulder brush hers. Hmm.

  “What could be worse than ‘forgetting’ to send troops? That sounds like a pretty low blow.”

  “They could start an all-out civil war.”

  She winced. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “There are six of them. Imagine half vote in support of me and half vote against.”

  “Are you saying you think civil war is likely?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Any guesses as to how they will vote?” She bent down to unlace and remove her boots as she spoke, and he watched with too much intensity as her fingers deftly loosened the laces. She didn’t seem to notice.

  What was her question again? Oh, yes. “I’d wager Dyon would support us. My father, of course has a vote. Warden Asten is exceedingly fair, part of the reason she won her seat as Assembly member, and so I’m sure she will consider all sides. Not sure what she will do. I’m hoping she’ll come to the same conclusion as I did with enough information.”

  Miara nodded. “What of the others?”

  “Alikar and Sven are sure to vote against me, both having religious objections in various ways. Beneral—well, he’s a mage. He may not be letting anyone know yet, but if he voted against me…”

  “He still could,” she reminded him.

  “Indeed. But we could out him as a mage and he could risk losing his seat, for either that or hypocrisy. But it seems unlike him anyway.”

  “Who does that leave?”

  “Lady Toyl. She’s a merchant like Beneral and primarily concerned with stability, I’d say. As many are.”

  “Hmm, but which way is more stable? Why not keep the heir you’ve always had, the one the king prefers?”

  “The heir who’s suddenly developed potentially evil magic powers and out of nowhere declares we’re in the middle of a war no one can see?”

  She snorted and put a hand on his knee casually. “And what’s the alternative—civil war?”

  “War if you do, war if you don’t, I guess.” Trying to act just as casually but feeling far from it, he slid his hand over hers, caressing the surprisingly soft skin, her knuckles, down the lines of her fingers. Gestures he hoped those bustling servants wouldn’t notice.

  Maybe. He didn’t care. They sat in silence for a while, her hand still on his knee as he gently stroked the back of her hand.

  She cleared her throat, as if her voice might be rough. “Perhaps if they think one of your brothers can take over, that seems a possible easy path to peace?”

  “There is no possible path with Kavanar knocking on the door.”

  “Yes, but how do we show them that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to wait till they knock loud enough for everyone to hear them.”

  “You’re trying to tell them. Most of them seemed to be listening.”

  “We have to show them what magic can do. As my father said, we need some kind of demonstration.”

  She nodded. “What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I was going to ask you the same thing.” He smiled.

  “Me? Why me?” She pulled her hand away and placed it over her chest as if he were accusing her of something.

  He fought the urge to say whatever would get her to place her hand on his knee again. “You’re the best we have. I want you to do the demonstration.”

  “No. You’re the Akarian. They won’t trust me.”

  “They’ll trust what they see. And me being the Akarian is exactly the problem. I want them to see me for who I’ve always been, just a little improved. Standing up in front of them and shooting fire from my fingertips isn’t exactly going to help that image.”

  She snorted. “You can’t do that yet anyway.”

  “They don’t need to know that, as you so astutely pointed out. But that’s another part of the problem with me. I’m not very good.”

  “Good enough to break the spell to free me. No one in the world knows how to do that, other than you.”

  He waved it off. “That’s just being clever. You’re better. You’ll show them the real danger they face.”

  She ran a hand over her face. “I don’t want them to see me as a danger either.” She glanced at the door, likely thinking of his parents.

  “They already see you as a danger. Not sure we can change that. And magic is dangerous. That’s precisely the point.”

  “But is this how we win them over?” she said gently. “I don’t want to… keep this hidden forever.”

  His chest ached at the worry in her voice. “Well, you’re a danger, but on their side? Offering to help? A danger to Kavanar, not Akaria. Maybe we can find some way to emphasize that we’re all fighting the same enemy here. They respect strong and capable fighters, remember? Either way, I’m sure your natural charisma and beauty will easily win them over, even as you change them into rats.”

  She snorted. “One of them is already a rat, it seems.”

  “Who?”

  “Alikar, of course. Let me ask you this. How does that weasel stand to benefit by opposing you?” She frowned in thought, and he mirrored the expression. Good question, exactly the kind a queen should be asking. “He is clearly junior and less respected than the others. They seem unlikely to be cowed and simply accept direction from him, even if he is right, and he’s not. Is he so blindly devout?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Although he has some training as a priest, that always seemed like a ploy to me. Another play at power, another thing to hold over people’s heads.”

  “Could this Assembly meeting be a play for more pow
er then as well? Or money?” she asked.

  He scratched his head. Could it? What power could he hope to gain? The Assembly had no power to choose an heir, and even if they did, they wouldn’t pick Alikar. Even if both of Aven’s brothers and the whole Lanuken family proved unacceptable, there were still dozens of possible candidates. He groaned at even the thought of such jockeying. It must be prevented. But all in all, even if Aven was out of the picture, only Samul could choose an heir. Unless…

  “Maybe he wants civil war. Maybe in the chaos he thinks he can grab more power, or… something. Seems delusional, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking such a thing.”

  “Indeed. Well then. Some of them care about trade, stability, maybe the status quo. And some care about power, and in particular—more for themselves.” She smiled. “Anything else?”

  “If I tell you, will you give me your hand back?”

  She let out a short laugh and returned her hand, palm up this time.

  He seized it. “They care about military might, of course.” He ran his fingers along the lines of her palm, soft as a feather.

  “Of course?” Was that a shiver that ran through her? He hoped it was.

  “Combined strength is what brought all the territories together. They all know that. It’s what has kept peace with Kavanar and Takar for so long. The question is to what degree they care about it. Shansaren Territory is heavily dominated by its military, and as such, strength is Warden Asten’s highest priority. Dyon too. The others… it’s hard to tell. From their perspective, our territory, Asten’s, and Dyon’s are all in the north. If we broke over that issue, it might be like splitting the country in two.”

  She sighed. “Nothing is ever easy, is it? You can’t just come back here and say, ho, I’m a mage, and expect them all to nod and carry on?”

  “Does it ease your thoughts that there’s technically nothing they can do about it?”

  “Aside from make your life miserable?”

  “Yes, aside from that.” He grinned. “And my father’s too, don’t forget.”

  She snorted. “Then, no. No, it doesn’t. I don’t know how we are going to sort out this mess.”