Sarissa walked to her desk and leaned against it. She opened a leather-bound book she had been carrying around and starting writing in it. “So, you’re a healer?”
Amber nodded slowly. “I have the birth mark to prove it.” She held out her dark arm to show the white swirling mark that covered her right arm from fingertip to armpit. Amber prayed that Sarissa did not know how to read the marks. Hers, with its tight coils, was clearly that of a thought reader. Healers had marks that looked like wispy ferns.
“Less than impressed,” Sarissa said with a sigh. She held out her own arm, ivory like newly-spun satin. Whispering an unknown language, her arm turned as dark as Amber’s and a white fern-like marking formed on it.
Amber’s stomach churned so violently that she was grateful that she had not eaten in two days.
“Of course, this pattern is one of a healer. Not a reader like yours.” Sarissa’s arm returned to normal. She leaned to the side of her desk to search through a stack of papers before looking back at her. “Do you know what I plan to do?”
Amber shook her head and failed to control her trembling. Still, she focused her energy as best she could. There was something about the woman that was familiar. A story she had heard once. A childhood fantasy.
Sarissa looked back and gave a cold smile. She tapped her forehead. “I recommend not looking around in there.”
The Elorian’s thoughts flooded Amber’s mind, overwhelming her. She collapsed, gasping for breath, struggling to find herself in the flood of madness that attacked her own senses. It was true. The stories were true.
“My lady,” Amber choked out as she struggled to her knees.
“I warned you.” Sarissa did not look up from her journal.
“I did not know I was in the presence of the divine,” Amber forced out.
Sarissa waved her hand at her. “Get up. I’m not a god, you imbecile. My whore of a mother is.”
Amber did as she was instructed though her knees shook. Sarissa had closed off her thoughts, leaving Amber alone with the fragmented memories of pure hate that had rushed through her.
“I let you read my mind. Don’t feel impressed by your own paltry abilities. My outlawed Magic is still more powerful than your silly inbreed Power.” Sarissa slammed her book on her desk and stepped closer to Amber. “Since you claim to be a healer, even though your birthmark says you aren’t, I’ll let you live. If you can fix my eye.”
“My mother,” Amber whispered. “My mother was born a healer. I learned from her.” At that moment, Amber accepted that she was going to die in this room, naked and alone. Violated and possibly tortured to death by this insane woman. Somehow that acceptance calmed her a little. The pain would end soon and she would join the immortal on the wind.
Sarissa walked back to her desk and turned over a sand-filled time counter. “You have until the sand runs out.”
“Has anyone looked at your eye?”
“All incompetent.”
Amber flashed a look at Sarissa’s desk and caught notice of a book: a Magic text. She snapped her eyes back, hope fluttered inside her. “I think I know what’s wrong with you.”
Sarissa’s eyebrows perked up. “Which is?”
“Nothing,” Amber said, her lower lip quivering. “There’s nothing truly wrong with your eye.”
Sarissa stopped looking through her papers and stared at Amber, her mouth curled into a snarl. She took a long step forward and backhanded Amber across the face, forcing her to lose her balance and tumble on the floor. The straw scratched her skin. “If you wanted to die, you could have just said so,” Sarissa muttered.
“Please, listen. Magic is based on drawing on the Power that is the present of the divine. That’s why it’s not allowed. Because you are stealing from the gods.”
“I don’t care why it’s wrong, you stupid bitch!” Sarissa grabbed Amber’s hair and dragged her to her feet. “You timid, pathetic thing. I should slit your throat right now.” She grabbed a dagger from her desk.
Amber grasped at the strength of Rygous that was inside her and fought her fear. “I can explain! Wait!”
Sarissa kept her grasp on Amber’s hair, but relaxed the dagger.
“I don’t know much about Magic, but I recall that man,” Amber pointed a shaky finger at Robert, who still sat near the fire pit, “saying to one of my guards that you could not read the book.”
“Robert, you should gossip less.” Tightening her grip on Amber’s hair, she asked, “And what does that have to do with my eye?”
“When we Rygents practice our Power, obstacles come in our way. It isn’t until we overcome them that we progress.” Amber gasped from pain and her eyes watered, as hair pulled from her pores. “It’s the same for Magi. The dark arts have put their own spell on you. To distract you.”
Sarissa tapped a finger against Amber’s head while still holding on to her hair. A short, “Humph” escaped her lips and she released her hair. Amber tumbled to the dirty floor again and stayed down, too afraid to move.
Sarissa walked to her desk and opened a tattered book. She turned to a blank page and stared at it. A long frown formed on her face. Sarissa looked at Robert and shook her head. “Too bad. I liked this one. Clever. Tricky.”
Robert stood and picked up the dagger that rested on his knee. Amber frantically looked back at Sarissa and pleaded, “My lady, please. Listen to me. We hide most of the dark books in Rygous for the elves. I’ve seen books just like yours. Stacks of books with blank pages. Magic only makes you lose your mind if you let it. That’s why your eye itches. The Magic wants you to focus on your eye, not the books.”
“Books, you say?” Sarissa asked slowly, the words rolling off her tongue. She looked back at her book and flipped through the pages. Then, a long smile stretched across her face. She tipped the volume to show Amber. An entire paragraph of words was visible. “Outstanding. Well done, little girl. You get to live.”
Amber let out a ragged breath, regretting telling Sarissa about the location of the Magic texts. But her life was on the scales. The choice had been made and she prayed never to live to regret it.
Sarissa leaned against her desk, reading the new passage silently. She snapped her head up and smile. “This is wonderful.”
Robert cocked an eye and walked over to Sarissa, looking over her shoulder. He shook his head and asked, “What does it say?”
“It says you get to play with our little bird now.” Looking at Amber with her cold eyes, she said, “I hope you don’t mind Robert raping you. You understand, of course.”
Amber glared at Sarissa but said nothing. She readied her mind for the violation, building walls and barriers. She did not turn her eyes away from Sarissa even when Robert knocked her down on all fours. Thankfully, he flipped her over so that she did not have to stare at his ugly, bearded face.
Sarissa mumbled words from the book, words that sent chills down Amber’s spine. When Robert pushed inside her, she whimpered, but she did not scream.
Amber refused to scream.
After today, she knew that she could never look at a bearded man without thinking of this monster ripping her insides apart with his foul thrusts.
Amber whimpered as tears dripped off her face and to the floor. Sarissa circled them, reading aloud from the book all the while Robert attacked her body. Amber scraped her hands against the straw, failing to brace herself.
Robert let out a final grunt and rolled off her, slapping the back of her head. “Next time, clean them up for me. I have to bathe now.”
Amber stayed face-down on the floor, trembling and gulping back the sobs that caught in her throat. I will survive. I will.
“I think the spell worked,” Sarissa said, her shadow blocking out the candlelight. “Huh.”
Amber sobbed quietly and prayed that the gods would kill the monster’s seed that trickled down her inner thigh.
Chapter 8
The Crownless becomes King.
— Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet<
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Bethany had to strain over the hallway chatter to hear Jovan speak.
“I can’t believe you kicked Prince Daniel out.”
Kiner nodded. “The broken nose was sufficient.”
Bethany stared ahead as they walked through the busy temple corridors. At times, the crowds were so thick that people would be unable to move out of the trio’s way. The humid heat of the evening made the stench of sweat worse than usual and Bethany was convinced she smelled the sewers that zigzagged underneath the temple’s pristine marble floors.
“I just spent the last hour defending myself to Allric.” Standing in the middle of them, she flashed a glare before adding, “Not to mention I’m upset with both of you. One of you could have at least spoken up on my behalf instead of just nodding at everything Allric had to say. Sheep, both of you.”
She increased her stride, forcing her two companions to match her pace. Her chest constricted as they entered her least favorite section of the temple. Not because of the endless bustle of visiting artists, pilgrims, diplomats, and general sightseers, but because of the decorations. Thankfully, walking in the middle of the hallway allowed the pressing crowd around her to hide some of the artwork. Still, she could see the image of a cloaked woman on a horse.
It didn’t matter no one knew the woman’s identity or the full story behind the scenic engraving hanging on the stone walls like a giant painting. She would never forget that time in the Taftlin Mountains.
She stayed silent, eyes focused straight ahead, until they passed the area. It was something of a ritual the three shared anytime they walked this part of the temple together. They all dealt differently with their past, but silence seemed to be the unanimous vote for dealing with the carvings that would eternally depict their “glorious” deeds.
Several steps later, the walls were covered with hand-stitched rugs depicting the various nations that compromised the elven territories. Her muscles relaxed and she continued, “Prince Daniel’s been nothing but trouble since he’s arrived. I can’t train a man who enjoys hurting people just because they are a lower rank. A man like Daniel cannot be trusted. I don’t need to tell either of you that.”
Jovan shook his head. “You’re not the one writing King Richard of Taftlin to explain why his heir returns home earlier than expected with a broken nose.” Bethany thought he almost smiled but then it faded. “You could have made the effort to train him.”
Allric had been furious at her. He had claimed she’d endangered the entire balance of peace by losing her temper. She might have cared if he had bothered to share that tidbit of information earlier. She didn’t like secrets.
They approached Kiner’s office. The “Tranquility Trio,” as their reputation had named them, stepped into Kiner’s study and collapsed in the neatly arranged line of chairs against the wall.
“What a day,” Bethany said, yawning. She looked around Kiner’s study, dismayed at the neatness of the room. Not a single thing out of place. She would need to resign the knights to achieve his level of tidiness. “Is it really as bad as Allric said?”
Jovan gave a noncommittal grunt and began searching the shelves, moving books and boxes. “I never heard of the trouble in Taftlin until today. Allric’s forgetting to tell us news, it seems.”
Allric had surprised them with reports concerning the rising tensions between Taftlin and their island neighbors, the Rygents. With the Rygents being allied with the elves, and Taftlin allied with the slave nations, any conflict would drag the two great alliances of the world into a long, bloody conflict. Bethany had asked him why he neglected to tell them but he dismissed her concerns by saying that he had lacked the opportunity.
“It is bad enough Garran was murdered by Magi. Now we have the threat of war on top of things. If Allric had told me earlier things were bad, I would not have reacted the way I did.”
Kiner frowned at her. “Don’t lie.”
She tried to picture herself letting Daniel get away with the name calling in front of an entire class of recruits. “All right, I would have reacted the same way. But I stand by what I did. Daniel needed to behave with honor or leave. Those are the rules. I have that expectation for everyone. Calling his instructor a whore and cutting up your classmate for a few laughs is not honor.”
“I probably would have done the same thing.” Jovan stood and walked over to Kiner’s desk, restlessly opening the drawers and rummaging through them. “Where’s your brandy?”
“I never keep liquor in my study.”
“Figures. Celibates.”
Jovan rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about Allric. He’s frustrated over not getting any news about Garran. Instead all he’s getting back are reports of raids on Rygent villages. He’ll get over the Daniel thing.”
Kiner snorted. “At least those kids learned to never call you a whore.”
“I almost feel sorry for him. I did hit him pretty hard.” Her smile faded. “I should go. I need to speak with Arrago. I might have to remove him from the class.”
“Arrago told me after class he had never held a sword before today,” Kiner said.
“Gentle Apexia on the wind,” Jovan mumbled. “Didn’t he know the requirements when he applied?”
Bethany shrugged. “I’ll go talk to him. Maybe he meant a real sword. If he’s trained with stick weapons, it won’t take much to get him caught up.”
Jovan leaned forward in his chair. The intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable. “And what are you going to do if he can’t be caught up?”
She genuinely felt sorry for Arrago. He seemed like a decent sort of person, for a human anyway. A blurred image of Arrago holding a bloody sword flashed in her mind and held for a moment, before retreating into the background. She wished the memories would go away completely. They were a distraction, a future that could never be.
Bethany’s chair squeaked as she pushed to her feet. “My job, of course.”
***
Bethany sat in her study, waiting for Arrago to arrive. She had sent a guard to fetch him over an hour ago. Her back ached and she wanted to do nothing more than soak in a tub full of hot water before passing out in bed. But she had a dream to crush first.
Since Rebecca’s dismissal earlier that week, paperwork had laid siege to her study. She used the opportunity to catch up on the multiplying pile of scrolls and courier pouches. As Bethany retrieved a small mountain of papers from Rebecca’s former desk, motion caught her eye.
Guards.
During the day, their presence was less obvious. At night, however, with the halls nearly emptied, she realized the impact of doubling the guard presence had made. She did not feel a pressing fear of a Magic attack, but she did not want to be unprepared.
Erem knocked on her open door and stepped in, Arrago trailing behind. Guilt rushed through her as she looked into his tired eyes, recalling how swollen and bloody they once were. She’d caused that.
“Lord Erem, will you wait outside?”
The lanky elf nodded and ducked to exit her study. She waited until the door clicked shut.
Bethany considered sitting behind her desk but opted to instead lean against it. She wanted to pretend that this was like her other dismissals where she did not care about the person, but she couldn’t. She cared about Arrago in a strange, twisted way that had everything to do with her vision and nothing to do with choice.
No, she did not care about him. Her feelings were for the phantom that haunted her thoughts. There was a difference.
As Bethany stared at him, hair tousled but not unattractively, she wanted to laugh at herself for thinking he was connected to Sarissa on his first day. Even without the benefit of the vision, she could read him well enough to know he wasn’t a spy or a Magi. He was simply a young man wanting to break out on his own and she was about to end that dream.
“Why are you here, Arrago Cedar?”
“Lord Erem said you wanted to see me.”
The honest look in his eyes told her he was not trying
to disrespect her. “I mean, why are you here at the temple?”
“I want to serve Apexia,” he said. He was shorter than her, but only by a fraction. He tilted his head just enough to stare straight into her eyes.
She flinched but did not look away. Something about the intensity of his gaze bothered her, as if he saw right through her. Gathering her nerves and her patience, she said, “That is a slogan, not an answer. Lord Kiner and Lord Jovan believe you should be washed out of the program and sent home.”
“And what do you think, Lady Bethany?”
She crossed her arms. “I’m undecided.”
No longer were his eyes wide like a frightened animal. Instead they narrowed. “I have no weapons training of any kind if that is what’s making you hesitate.”
“Then I agree with them, though I admire your honesty.”
Bethany let her gaze fall from his face for a moment, trying to muster the softest words to explain the situation. She owed the Arrago of her visions that much compassion. “It is impossible for you to complete training. Without this basic class, you will not be able to advance to the next level and find a position here. No position in politics, the military, or the clergy exists where you can avoid needing this course. Anyone who works for the elves works for the Gentle Goddess. She requires everyone in her service be able to hold a sword to defend her honor.”
Those words she borrowed from previous lectures. She didn’t even believe those words. It was merely a part of elven tradition that got mixed up with the faith until it was impossible to tell where one stopped and the other began.
“I’m willing to learn. I want to stay and succeed.”
She would have liked to have him progress in his studies. “I believe you and I have nothing but sympathy for your situation. I have no reason to keep you beyond pity and I doubt you would like to stay under those terms.”
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