Mage Evolution (Book 3)

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Mage Evolution (Book 3) Page 21

by Virginia G. McMorrow

Bowing his head, so that it rested against mine, my father whispered, “I do not know if I can, Alex. I am sorry. But your mother—” His sigh held the weight of a lifetime of regret. “If I had overcome my childhood fear and used my talent before she gave birth to you, I might have saved her. Your mother might still be alive, and you would have your own memories of Emila, rather than someone else’s.”

  “And if you use your mage talent now,” I said just as softly, “my mother might very well approve.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Alex, hurry! The ship is in sight, and I have just—” Gwynn flashed a bright grin, full of mischief and affection, at Maylen, who scowled, “won the wager.”

  “Only because you pretended you lost some coins on the ground,” Maylen asserted with loud indignation, her cheeks rosy from racing into the Seaman’s Berth.

  Glancing from one young face to the other, and then to Chester, the amused owner of the inn, I demanded, “Didn’t I warn you to keep these troublemakers out of your establishment? What will your clientele think?”

  “Yes, you did, but these two, in particular, are your troublemakers,” Chester defended himself as my husband and Corey strolled into the cool interior of the inn as though they didn’t have a care in the world. “Your responsibility.”

  “Hmm. Well, in that case,” —I pointed a finger at Gwynn, the quintessential troublemaker— “you are a disgrace to the Keltie name. And you,” I scolded Maylen, who looked surprised when I turned that finger in her direction, “should know better than to believe anything, anything, that he says, particularly when there’s a wager involved.” Before the flustered young woman could defend herself, I sighed. “Why did you believe him, anyway?”

  Framed by blonde hair pulled back into a neat braid, Maylen’s thin face flushed a deeper scarlet than the shade her wild chase had brought to her skin. “The pest looked so distraught, Alex, and said the money belonged to Lady Barlow, who asked him, entrusted him, so he said, to purchase something for the duke.” Her flush faded as she smiled, warning me. “You remember when we brought Gwynn back to Port Alain, wounded by the renegade mages, and he pretended to be angry with you for— What was it that he said to you?”

  “For not bothering to stay behind and see whether he lived or died,” I growled, remembering all too clearly the hurt and betrayal on his young face. And I’d fallen right into his trap. “All right, so I was gullible enough to fall for his act, too. I forgive you, though I should thank you for reminding me I never did kick his butt for that little incident.” Edging closer to Gwynn, I snorted when he fled past Corey into the cloud-dimmed sunshine. “And you,” —I prodded Corey’s chest— “should never use that poor excuse for a man as a role model.”

  “Never, Alex. I promise.”

  “You lie as prettily as every other man around me.” Ignoring my husband’s wounded expression as he placed a hand over his heart, I headed for the door. “Let’s go, children. Chester, thank you for breakfast. The sausages were perfect.”

  “My pleasure, Alex. And you be careful,” he warned, catching my eye before I left the inn. “There are more troublemakers in Port Alain these days than even you can handle.”

  “That’s why I have a little bit of help from my own troublemakers.” I grinned, though Chester, who’d known me as a child, easily saw through my bravado. “Don’t worry, old friend. I’ll be careful.”

  With that assurance, I left the inn, my companions trailing behind. The weather had been unstable all morning, with clouds shifting across the sky, bringing the promise of sun and threat of rain. On the horizon, far off to the south, darker clouds were gathering. If the lords of the sea had any influence over the weather, I hoped the storm would hold off until morning and not interfere with our smuggling plans, as that little maneuver was worrisome enough for me to lose sleep. The streets were crowded with vendors selling sausage rolls, fresh muffins of cranberry and walnut and summer berries, bunches of flowers whose names I’d never learn to remember, wooden carvings, crafted jewelry, tunics of wool and cotton and silk, rugs and oil lamps, everything one could possibly want. The duke had declared the day a holiday, and the local merchants were delighted to set up their wares, though more than one glanced with anxiety at the sky.

  Down at the harbor, several ships from Meravan had sailed into port earlier in the week, and the crews were lined up, idle, watching the sleek arrival of the Stoutheart, no doubt wondering about the competition the fledgling trade might bring. By the time we’d made our way through the crowds, the Stoutheart had neared land. Her crew, minus Kimmer, were bringing her dockside between two three-masted Meravan ships.

  A lane, kept open by Port Alain troops, led from the main street to the dock. As we waited for the arrival of the duke’s carriage from the Hill, I scanned the festive crowd, and noticed, interspersed here and there, a number of my father’s scouts. At the end of the open lane, at the juncture where it met the main road, Seamage Neal Brandt waited, his copper mage pendant blazing beneath the occasional ray of sun that fought its way through the overcast sky. Beside him were arrayed his complement of mages, waiting with dutiful expressions to match their leader. Though Brandt’s face was set in a pleasant half-smile, his eyes roamed the crowd without stopping, and came to rest on mine. Nodding with a smile that brought a shiver to my spine, he regarded my companions with interest before turning his attention back to the bustling activity aboard the Stoutheart.

  Rosanna had chosen to remain at the manor with Khrista and Kerrie, overseeing preparations for the formal dinner she was hosting that evening. Though Jules’s twin boys would accompany their parents to greet the ship, Anders and I decided to leave Emmy, along with Linsey, safe in the care of Sernyn and Anessa. With too many strangers in town, and Seamage Brandt shooting a malicious eye my way now and again, I wanted the girls out of sight and temptation.

  The crew of the Stoutheart scurried to obey the captain’s barked orders, securing the ship in her assigned berth. On deck, out of the captain’s way, Westin Harlowe and Derek Frontish watched the organized chaos, as well as the crowd. Anders and I elbowed our way through the throng of curious folk until we reached the Port Alain trooper nearest the dock, who, on recognizing us, allowed us to pass through. I spied Maylen, Gwynn, and Corey, a heartbeat before they melted into the crowd.

  By the time the gangplank hit the creaking dock, the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones was clear and strong, approaching along the main port road, rounding the corner just beyond Seamage Brandt. Shiny and polished for the occasion, Jules’s carriage came to a smooth halt beside the seamage and his entourage at the beginning of the open lane. With the assistance of his coachman, who opened the door, Jules stepped onto the cobblestones and smiled a greeting at the gathered mages from the local council. Jules offered a hand to Lauryn, who stepped from the carriage, followed by the twins. I turned and watched Derek Frontish, as he stood waiting at the foot of the gangplank, Westin beside him, for the duke’s party to arrive. I knew the very moment Elena and Jackson emerged from the carriage because all color drained from the elder’s face.

  When Anders pinched my backside, I hissed, “Stop that,” thinking, of course, that my frivolous husband was trying to smear my reputation with the people of Port Alain.

  “Did you see?”

  Apparently, it was his way of sending me a message. “Yes. Come on.” Elbowing Anders, I nodded to the new arrivals as they strolled down the open lane, greeting some of the folk along the way. I sent Jackson a sympathetic smile of encouragement and joined the little procession that halted at the foot of the gangplank.

  “Welcome to Port Alain, Elder Frontish.” Elena smiled with gracious warmth, taking immediate control of the situation, as planned, even though the harbor was the central part of Jules’s domain. “We thought you’d never arrive. And, truly, we were worried about the threatening weather.”

  “Your majesty.” Bowing low, the elder forced a smile to his face. “We are honored you would leave your onerous dutie
s in Ardenna and travel all this way to greet us on our maiden voyage to Tuldamoran. I trust there has been no trouble for your heir, whom we were expecting in your stead.”

  “Brendan was needed elsewhere,” Elena reassured the Spreebridge man. “He was very disappointed” —blue eyes danced with mischief, and I had the distinct impression my friend was enjoying herself— “when I admitted that I preferred to welcome you myself. He grumbled for days about the privileges of rank and overbearing sisters. But I won the argument and banished him off to do my bidding.”

  “Well, then, we are truly honored by your presence, as by the gracious welcome Duke and Lady Barlow have bestowed on us. Mage Protector, Crownmage,” he greeted us with another forced smile, and turned his attention to the boys before either Anders or I could say a word. “Your sons, my lord?”

  “Indeed. Carey, here, is the most likely to get into a scrape, as their schoolmistress knows all too well, but for the calming influence of Hunter, his twin.” Jules laughed with genuine affection at his sons, who made their polite bows, though Carey shot his father an evil look for that comment, followed by a sly grin in my direction.

  “They are handsome young men, and evidence the good looks and honorable character of both their parents.” Derek gestured to the captain, as though to invite us aboard, determined, I thought, to ignore Westin Harlowe’s presence. However, the royal minx wouldn’t let him so easily off the fishhook.

  “And your companion, Elder Frontish?” Although Elena’s query was polite, her tone made it clear she wouldn’t be deterred. “Your pardon, but we haven’t yet been introduced.”

  “No fear, your majesty. He is very well known to me,” Jackson cut in with a warm smile for his mentor. “Elena, this is Westin Harlowe, the gentleman I have spoken so much about with such praise and gratitude.”

  “Ah, of course. What a wonderful surprise.” Elena beamed at the man, who looked much like a mouse about to be devoured by a hungry cat. “Any fond friend of Jackson is welcome here, Elder Harlowe.” Acknowledging his uneasy gratitude, she turned back to Derek. “We’ll transfer your baggage to the manor so you can rest awhile before the affair tonight.”

  As Elena turned to give the command to the nearest trooper, Derek Frontish swiftly intervened. “My apologies, your majesty, but there is no need. We will stay aboard the Stoutheart. We would not intrude on the privacy of the duke and his family.”

  “Oh, but you don’t understand.” Elena leaned close to the two men as though to whisper a secret, which was laughable, since any of the townsfolk lucky enough to be standing this close could hear every word. “If Jules doesn’t bring you and your baggage up to the manor, Lady Barlow, the senior Lady Barlow, that is, will be livid. The duke is not very fond of getting into trouble with his formidable mother. And I can assure you” —she smiled at the Spreebridge elder— “that I, as well as my Mage Protector, can attest to that fact, having been under that woman’s strict thumb for many years as a child. I may be queen of Tuldamoran, but the senior Lady Barlow is queen of the manor on the Hill.”

  “Without a doubt,” Lauryn said, blue eyes smiling at the bewildered foreign gentlemen. “And I, for one, my lords, would never think to depose that particular queen.”

  Without a doubt, my friends were all mad. I bit my lip to keep from scolding Lauryn and Elena as they improvised this little melodrama right before my disbelieving eyes.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord and my lady,” —Derek Frontish bowed so low I thought his aristocratic nose would hit the ground— “but we will dine at the manor tonight, which I hope will placate your mother, as well as please you. But, truly, we cannot take the risk of staying too long away from Stoutheart. We have too much work to do these next few days, and we would be remiss were we to leave it unattended.” He smiled at the man, listening above us. “Not that I have any doubts of the captain’s abilities, but we have placed great store on the success of this first trade endeavor between our nations.”

  Elena sighed, bit her lip as though in grave mental debate, and turned to Jules and Lauryn, who shrugged, leaving the decision to their queen. “Very well, gentlemen, I won’t force you to leave the ship, though I daresay, the accommodations on the Hill are much finer than aboard the Stoutheart. No offense intended, captain.” She smiled to the man, who waved away her concern. “However, I will leave you to your own defense in the matter of the senior Lady Barlow.” She laughed then, as though trying to convince them that it was a jest all along. “Now, shall we come aboard and have a tour of this graceful ship? I wish” —she winked at Derek, who hadn’t a clue how to handle her— “to see the quality of the fine accommodations you are both so reluctant to leave behind.”

  Tongue-tied, Derek offered Elena his arm and led her up the gangplank, the rest of us following along like stupid sheep. The captain brought us fore and aft, onto the bridge, explaining particulars about the ship’s design, while Elena listened intently and graced every crewman with her brightest smile. When the captain led her to the snug passenger accommodations, she merely lifted an eyebrow in Derek’s direction. At least the man had the decency to blush.

  “May we go farther below the passenger deck?” Elena inquired, all innocence. “Though I have spent my summers sailing on these waters here in Port Alain with the duke and his family, I have never been on a commercial trading ship. I would love to see how one manages to store provisions for the crew, all those extra masts and sails, living space for everyone aboard— And all that before the addition of cargo even comes under consideration. I must confess,” —she smiled to the captain— “my own rooms in Ardenna are overcrowded with my things. If I can learn a lesson in neatness and efficiency, I will be indebted to you, as will my maid.”

  Either narrow-minded, conservative Spreebridge men were unaccustomed to the likes of Elena, or it was simply this group who hadn’t the slightest idea of what Elena was about. She twirled them around her slender finger like strips of silk. Before I could say “royal witch,” Elena had us all trailing along behind her, down to the lowest deck of the ship. Thank the lords of the sea, I’d grown up in Port Alain and was accustomed to the narrow, treacherous stairs between decks. There was barely room for the crates to pass when we made the switch later that night, but we’d have to make do. Judging our location beneath the captain’s quarters, I spied the ten crates of feyweed, marked no different than any other except they were kept apart. But there were markings that indicated their origin in Spreebridge, and those needed to be reproduced on our own crates that were already filled with sand.

  Elena took her time looking around, shaking her head in amazement at the hammocks that provided sleeping quarters for the crew, attached here and there wherever open space was available. “I would never make a sailor, I fear.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you were born a Dunneal in Ardenna” —Jackson laughed, taking her hand and raising it to his lips— “and, therefore, royal.”

  “Have I just been insulted, ambassador?”

  “Of course not.” Jackson winked at me in full view of the two elders. “Well, my love, I think you’ve taken enough of the captain’s time. Shall we leave the gentleman to his duties?”

  “Of course, forgive me. But I did learn much. Though not enough” —she laughed gaily in the direction of the Spreebridge elders— “to offer a better trade deal than what we’ve already negotiated. Thank you, gentlemen, all. And now— Ah, this wonderful tour has driven the thought from my head about something you said earlier, Elder Frontish.” When he waited for her to go on, and hopefully leave his ship, Elena asked, “Would it be to your benefit for the duke to post guards around the Stoutheart to protect your cargo? Though our folk here in Port Alain are very well bred, we do occasionally find greedy fingers.”

  “No need, your majesty,” Derek hastened to say, as anticipated, “though we do very much appreciate the duke’s generosity. Our crew has been told to keep watch, so never fear. We, too, have greedy fingers in Derbarry.” Dismissing the topic, Der
ek led our party up the narrow steps to the main deck, where I breathed a lungful of fresh air beneath the still overcast sky.

  Before disembarking, Elena stopped at the head of the gangplank. “One more thing, Elder Frontish. Could I have a word in private?”

  “Of course,” he said, flashing a swift look at Westin before joining Elena at the rail, away from eavesdroppers.

  “Alex? You, too.” When I obeyed, Elena’s expression lost all gaiety and became grave. “Elder Frontish, on behalf of my Mage Protector, I wish to ask, and greatly hope to hear good news, whether there has been an antidote found for feyweed. I confess, and beg you to keep this admission private, but I am lost without her magic.”

  The elder’s expression was somber, but the glint in his eyes betrayed the depth of his true feeling. “I am grieved to say that I cannot offer good news. I have asked my colleagues in Spreebridge, but no one can tell me anything more than that rumor and myth say there is a cure. Still, no one can give me solid proof that it exists.” The serious expression turned sly. “But, I wonder, your majesty, why you have asked me on behalf of your Mage Protector and not Jackson Tunney?”

  “You know of his trouble?” Raising a hand to her lips, Elena pretended horror, turning her back so that Jackson couldn’t see her face.

  “His trouble, and loss of magic, so like the Mage Protector’s,” he said, bowing his head to me, “is common news in Derbarry, your majesty.”

  Which meant that Westin, a man whom Jackson trusted and admired, told Derek, because I doubted Kimmer would offer harmful knowledge to a man she considered an adversary.

  “What else,” Elena asked sharply, “is common knowledge in Derbarry?”

  Taking careful note of her speed to anger, the elder whispered, “That your majesty should be wary of her lover.”

  “How dare you—” I stopped my immediate protest, lowering my voice, genuinely stunned at the blatant accusation. I had, after all, expected more subtlety. “What are you saying?” I hissed, knowing that although part of my anger was feigned, a large part was genuine.

 

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