Mage Evolution (Book 3)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  “My pleasure, Alex.” The Spreebridge woman touched my cheek and smiled, though her eyes were serious. “Keep it well hidden, and keep your recovery a secret.” Shivering, she smiled as Rosanna reasserted control and guided her firmly up the stairs. “When I’m warm and dry, there is much I have to tell you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the time Kimmer banished the chill of the river and donned a dry tunic and trousers borrowed from Rosanna’s gardening clothes, Jules and his wife, Lauryn, along with my brother, Gwynn, had joined us.

  Lauryn scooted to the window ledge, where I sat, one leg swinging back and forth, and whispered, “I heard you were fabulous on the bridge.”

  “Sure.” The leg swung with a little more vigor. “But did they tell you I fled to solid ground the very moment I could?”

  Laughing at my wry expression, Lauryn rapped me on the side of the head before sitting beside me. Anessa took the Spreebridge woman in hand while Rosanna busied herself making sure Kimmer was supplied with steaming tea, warmed by a generous dollop of Marain Valley wine, and fresh-baked walnut bread with raspberry jam. With Kimmer seated by the fireplace, and Rosanna absent to find some cheese, Anessa made polite introductions all around, but pointed her finger at Lauryn.

  “You will have to ask Lady Barlow,” Anessa said smoothly, though I detected a twinkle of mischief in her deep brown eyes. “She knows all about that.”

  “All about what?” Lauryn asked, though she rapped my head again when I snickered, guessing correctly Kimmer was referring to her son’s adventure in town. “Alex, really, must you be so childish?”

  “Leave her be,” Jules scolded his wife, whose blue eyes held challenge. “For once, Alex is in an agreeable mood,” he added, keeping a safe distance, “though I don’t know why.”

  “You really don’t?” Sitting up straight, I narrowed my eyes and focused on the chair he was sitting on, just as Rosanna re-entered the parlor, with a serving girl carrying a tray of assorted cheese and cold meats.

  “Alexandra Daine Keltie,” Rosanna warned, hands on her hips, “if you so much as think evil thoughts about that chair, I will banish you from the house for eternity.”

  “Spoilsport.” Though I was grumbling for appearance sake, I kept my eyes on Jules’s face, watching, with delight, as his expression transformed from befuddlement to understanding and then joy.

  “Is it true?” he whispered, jumping up from his chair to hug me close. “Thank the lords of the sea, Alex. What about Jackson?” He turned to the queen’s lover, whose bright smile matched mine. “I’m so very glad for both of you.”

  And I was so very touched. Though Jules and I often teased each other in our lifetime of friendship, and taunted each other without mercy most of the time, there were rare moments when we shared genuine emotion. And if I had to be honest, I couldn’t fault Jules for the lack of open affection, but rather myself.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly, squeezing his hand. “And what’s more, I can threaten you again. But Jules,” I warned, since he hadn’t been there when Kimmer had given us the antidote, “we’re keeping it secret.”

  “Of course. You’d be stupid not to. You’re many things, Alex, and crazy is one of them.” He grinned, stepping deftly out of reach. “But you’re not stupid. And neither is Jackson.” Returning to his seat, he clapped Jackson on the back and shot Elena a huge smile of relief.

  “You’d think he was the one who gave us the antidote,” I whispered to Lauryn before turning back to Kimmer, who’d been watching our antics with open amusement. “By the way, how did you find out what ingredients were necessary?”

  “That was easy. I stole the directions from Derek Frontish.” When my mouth opened and shut, the woman laughed and took pity on me. “Before I boarded the Stoutheart, I crept into Derek’s house while he was busy elsewhere.”

  “I knew it,” Corey exploded, breaking his polite silence with a look of profound disapproval. “I told you so, Alex. She was snooping where she did not belong, and it does not surprise me in the least.”

  “Well, how else was I to search his home without being caught? I do not have magic to help me. And after Sloane was murdered—” Kimmer’s defiant voice faded for a heartbeat, her smile sorrowful as we murmured condolences for the tragedy that had slipped our minds in all the confusion. “I knew I had to do something more. When I asked Derek about the antidote weeks ago, I suspected he was lying when he said it did not exist. I was as sneaky as—” Her smile turned mischievous as she glanced at my father, who’d been stunned, but not completely surprised, by Kimmer’s appearance. I suppose he knew a bit more of her adventurous nature than any of us. “Well, as a Glynnswood scout. I searched every room in his huge house and found the directions, of all places, beneath his feather-filled mattress. Can you imagine my disappointment? I expected a more creative hiding place.”

  While everyone laughed at her comical expression, Jackson and I, apparently sharing the same thought, exchanged a puzzled look.

  Kimmer caught our silent exchange. “You are wondering how I knew it was genuine.” When I nodded, hugging my knees to my chest, she said, “Well, I confess, Alex, I did not, not at first. But before I tell you how I knew, it occurred to me earlier while I was enjoying my hot bath that neither you nor Jackson nor Sernyn” —she eyed us in turn— “questioned the flask. It might have been poison.”

  “It might have been,” I agreed, “but I’m a good judge of character, with the exception of certain mistakes.” I inclined my head in Anders’s direction, prompting a wounded look from my husband.

  “Thank you, Alex,” Kimmer murmured in embarrassment. She took comfort in sipping tea, her expression sad again. “I verified it was a genuine antidote with the help of an old and dear friend who is dying. I—” her voice faltered and she sipped at the tea again, though I wasn’t sure she even tasted it. “I asked him a favor. A very big favor.”

  “He was a mage?” I asked, my heart breaking for this woman.

  “Yes. To prove the antidote was not a fake, he first drank feyweed and then the antidote. He—” Sadness changed to regret as she added, “He passed on soon after, right before the ship sailed south. But he told me, in no uncertain terms,” her voice gathered strength as she met my gaze with pride, “that he was glad to help because he felt it very important.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. There has been too much sorrow and trouble these past few weeks, and I would see them end.” She accepted a piece of walnut bread, slathered with raspberry jam, from Rosanna, who couldn’t bear to see people go hungry for very long. “Thank the lords of the sea.” She sighed, enjoying the bread. “No more ship food. And speaking of ships, the feyweed is housed in ten crates right beneath the captain’s quarters.” When Kimmer began to detail the exact measurements, Maylen glanced at me, a smile in her eyes. “I see you know something of this,” Kimmer said, again catching the silent exchange.

  “Believe it or not,” Jules replied, “our carpenters have ten crates waiting to make the switch. All we need to do is match the markings. Maylen” —he grinned at the smug scout— “reassured us that crates used in Spreebridge for everything from food to fabrics to gems are all the same size.”

  “Boring, you mean.”

  Jules reddened at Kimmer’s dry remark. “That’s not what I meant. It’s—”

  But Corey’s mother laughed merrily. “Of course not, but it is true, which is one of the reasons I wish to see some of the liveliness I find so refreshing in Tuldamoran cross the border into Spreebridge. Well, as for the crates, that is an unexpected surprise. But considering the young woman was trained in Glynnswood,” —she smiled at my father and Anessa— “I should have anticipated you would be steps ahead of me. When do you plan to make the switch and remove the feyweed from the Stoutheart?”

  “The town has been planning a festival to celebrate the ship’s arrival. That first night, we’re hosting our guests here,” Jules explained, looking to Lauryn for confirmation.
When she nodded indicating that nothing had changed, he added, “Mother is hosting a formal dinner. With the captain and the elder passengers entertained in our home, it should make things easier for those involved in switching the crates.”

  “Excellent. But I must warn you, Duke Barlow,” Kimmer said, breaking off a small piece of walnut bread. “The switch will have to be done during that affair because Derek and his companions are staying on board the Stoutheart.”

  “But they’ve been invited to stay here,” Lauryn exclaimed, worrying all our plans would go astray.

  “Yes, they have,” Kimmer agreed, glancing apologetically at Jackson, “but Derek and the other elder on board, Westin Harlowe, plan to refuse your hospitality.”

  “Should I be insulted?” Jules asked, uncertain how best to play out this change in our strategy.

  “You could, my lord. And more than that,” Kimmer suggested, an impish twinkle appearing in her eyes when she looked at Elena, “you might make Derek feel very ill-at-ease, your majesty, by being insulted on behalf of the Duke and Lady Barlow. Both Lady Barlows, in fact. Yet I wager Derek will still refuse your hospitality, though expressing utmost courtesy and offering an acceptable excuse.” Kimmer brought the walnut bread to her mouth and paused before eating it, to add, “Particularly, if you and Jackson are here. He will not expect either of you.”

  “Well, you know him better than me,” Elena said, glancing my way for an opinion and getting a shrug in reply. “I imagine you’re right, though that would mean insulting the monarch of a kingdom with whom you’re trying to encourage profitable trade. That would seem to be at odds with his purpose in coming to Tuldamoran.”

  “Normally I’d agree with you,” I told Elena, resting my chin on my knees, “but in this case, Derek Frontish, though representing Spreebridge, isn’t so much interested in trade profits, though that’s a nice little advantage. His focus is on one objective only. Destroying magic that’s different than his magic. The man’s got a bad case of jealousy and fear.”

  “Yes, definitely fear,” Kimmer said softly. “Derek Frontish, in his narrow-minded world, is afraid of you and Jackson and Anders, and” —her eyes sent a clear warning— “your daughter, who may yet prove more terrifying, when one considers the child’s heritage.” She nodded, satisfied at the determination she read in my eyes. “You will need a distraction at the dock.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I started to laugh, unable to dodge another of Lauryn’s scolding smacks to the side of my head. “Your son,” I tried but failed to look serious, “made all the arrangements. Everything is taken care of, Kimmer, nothing to worry about.”

  “It was Elena’s idea,” Lauryn defended my newest half-brother, who shut his eyes in resigned embarrassment, every inch of exposed skin sporting a brilliant shade of crimson.

  “Yes, but he volunteered. You told me so.”

  “Alex—”

  “What did my son volunteer to do?” Kimmer met the laughter in my eyes, trying without success to be somber as she realized this was the matter I’d mentioned earlier. “Corey?” she demanded, sounding no less maternal than Rosanna or Lauryn in a snit.

  “I made a necessary arrangement.” Corey met his mother’s stern gaze. “For the sailors to, um…” He glanced sheepishly to Lauryn for help. When she started to speak, I elbowed her sharply, and Corey shook his head in despair. “The crew of the Stoutheart will have a very warm welcome upon their arrival,” he blurted, adding with an embarrassed grin, “compliments of the local, um, ladies in town.”

  “I see. Excellent diversion, your majesty.” Kimmer nodded at Elena before turning steely eyes in her son’s direction again. “Tell me, Corey,” she drawled, “did you interview the ladies yourself?”

  “Every one, mother. I would not want the queen’s most excellent plan to fail because I had been remiss.”

  “I wonder” —Anders shot a glance my way, tapping his chin in thought— “just where Corey learned such slippery diplomacy. You’ve been accusing him of spending too much time with Gwynn, but I wonder if he might be spending too much time with you.”

  Before I could defend myself, Lauryn nudged me in the ribs. “He’s right.”

  “Why,” Rosanna broke into my tart reply, speaking to the so-called adults in the room, “are all children fools?”

  “Speaking of fools,” I cut in before she launched an attack on the younger generation, “are we really the fools, no offense intended, Jackson,” I said, knowing how deeply disappointed he was about his mentor’s recent behavior, “to trust Westin Harlowe?”

  “I do not know.” Kimmer stared for a heartbeat at Jackson. “But I will tell you two things of importance. Only recently, when Corey came south to find out what Derek was planning with his unannounced visit to Ardenna, I learned Westin had accompanied him.”

  “That explains the unidentified man the scout noticed in Ardenna,” I murmured, remembering what Corey had told Elena and Jackson days ago, “though no one was able to discover his destination.”

  “That is what worries me.” Kimmer sighed, draining her teacup. “I fear Westin was making contacts in Tuldamoran. The other troublesome point you must understand is that on our journey downriver, the two men spoke often and in private. I had to take extra cautions so as not to be caught, but I did manage to hear a thing or two of significance.”

  “Mother—”

  “Hush,” she chided Corey with gentle dismissal. “I am here. I am fine. Did you think adventure was only for the young?”

  Watching the fond amusement on my father’s face, I could easily understand how he’d taken solace with this woman after my mother died in childbirth. Anessa had been quietly studying his face, too. Catching my eye, she winked, looking not the least bit ill-at-ease.

  “Their plan is wicked, I fear.” Kimmer snagged our attention again. “Once the Stoutheart arrives in port, they intend to spread the feyweed by way of the local Mage Councils throughout Tuldamoran, proclaiming it not only a cure for feyweed if ingested, but also a preventive potion. So you can be sure that alarmed and nervous mages will be crowding the local council halls to get their hands on a dose.”

  “Lords of the sea, but Kimmer, wait— Westin told you in Derbarry that there was no antidote, didn’t he?” I asked, struggling to understand Westin’s role and whose side he was really on.

  “Yes, but Westin still thinks I am safe at home in Spreebridge,” she said, a bemused smile on her face. “And it does not really matter. Westin will only say that he knew nothing of the antidote, that he and Derek are not responsible for the poison or the cure. How could they know feyweed was carried on board and smuggled into port? Besides, who would dare dispute such honored visitors to your kingdom?”

  “But—”

  “Listen to me!” Kimmer’s sharp tone became grave with warning. “Both men will say to any fool who will listen that the malicious distribution of feyweed to all mages is a plot by you, Alex, the queen’s Mage Protector, with the help of the Ardenna Crown Council of Mages. Your joint goal is to have only an elite handful of mages that includes yourself, the Crown Council, and perhaps a few other favored mages of your choosing. Your plan is to strip all other mages in your kingdom of their magic so they will never be a threat to you. But it is you, Alex, in your bid for supremacy, who will take the brunt of the blame.”

  Stunned, I could only stare at the Spreebridge elder in silence.

  “They will say you intend to create an elite corps of mages, but, in truth, Alex,” she continued, holding my gaze, “they will say you intend to rob all mages, including the Crown Council, of mage talent. You and Anders and Jackson, of course, will be the sole survivors with magic.” Absently sipping from the delicate teacup Rosanna had refilled, she added in the heavy silence, “Derek’s goal is to destabilize Tuldamoran by spreading feyweed, along with fear and distrust. And with uncertainty in your kingdom, he will take the opportunity to eradicate mage talent.”

  “I have to warn the Crown Council,” Elena sai
d quietly, a shadow of anxiety passing over her face. “If they did meet in secret with Derek, they should know they’re stepping into danger. They—”

  “No.” When Elena stared at me in disbelief, raising one black eyebrow in imperious query, I shrugged. “Not yet. I may have warned them when we met in Ardenna. Jenny Bretan isn’t a fool. She could easily read between the lines. But the truth is that I won’t feel safe until we have the feyweed locked away and hidden. Only then.”

  “You don’t trust the Crown Council.”

  “No more” —I shrugged, owing her an honest answer— “than they trust me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elena found me later that day, closeted in the schoolroom, poring over the notes I’d prepared for the lesson on Spreebridge, in honor of the arriving Stoutheart and our new trade partners. My daughter sat on a stool opposite me, concentrating intently on a picture she was drawing. Emmy’s head was bent low, her tiny nose almost touching the paper, long brown curls hiding much of her pretty face.

  “Come to scold me for my attitude toward the Ardenna Crown Council?” I asked the queen, who sat cozily beside my daughter on a low stool, smiling in delight as the imp smothered her in a tight hug.

  “Not me.” Elena laughed, coming up for air. “You made a valid point.”

  “Surprised to hear you admit that.”

  “I’m wounded.” Looking anything but, Elena studied the picture in progress. “Lovely,” she murmured to Emmy, who grinned at the regal approval and went back to work. “What is she drawing?” Elena had the decency to mouth over my child’s head so poor Emmy wouldn’t be insulted.

  “No idea,” I mouthed back, saying aloud, “So, your majesty, if you didn’t come to reprimand me, should I assume this call is social?”

  “No. It’s anything but social.” Reaching across the table, Elena plucked the twin pendants from beneath my tunic, the copper one she’d given me and the wooden one Gwynn had carved, both secured on a thin leather thong at my neck. “I have a valid point to make, too.”