Julianne inhaled, the scent of smoky musk and jasmine hitting the back of her throat and warming her nostrils. She sat back, waiting until the display began before making any move to approach her target.
Bright lights flickered on to shine down on the stage from an intricate contraption that used mirrors and lanterns to focus the light. The spotlight drew back so that the mechanical arm was hidden by a swathe of silk.
“Welcome to an adventure like none you have seen before. I am Enigma—I shall be your guide.”
A woman stood in the middle of the stage, skin glittering in the light.
“Is that costume painted on?” Marcus whimpered.
Julianne looked a little closer. “You know, I think it might be.”
Whatever the performer was wearing, it clung to her skin, shimmering as she moved. She spun, twirling like a dancer as a gong boomed. The movement made her taut muscles ripple.
“Watch out, you’ll drool on your shirt,” Julianne said with a smirk.
Marcus snapped his mouth shut with a click, then gave her an embarrassed grin. “She’s not as pretty as you.”
“The hell she’s not,” Julianne retorted softly.
There was no denying the performer, with her soft, dark hair and too-big eyes was a beauty. Even her breasts didn’t—
There’s no way that’s possible, Julianne realized. The performer continued to dance, contorting her body. Her long hair swung delicately, but flicked in the wrong direction during a complex movement. She reached out to Marcus.
They’re using an illusion, she sent.
Before the thought was complete, she realized that his shields were entirely down.
She had to pull herself back before she slipped right into his mind—he had often dared her to read his mind, but with his natural ability to shield, it was always a conscious effort and even then, most of his thoughts were tucked into neat little compartments behind their own, secondary shields.
She had never touched on those, worried about invading his clear need for privacy. Seeing him laid bare like this was a temptation, even to her.
Jabbing him in the ribs, she touched her temple. He jumped, frowned, then squinted. Brushing his mind, she saw his defenses were still down.
Something’s wrong. The thought blared out from his mind, and Julianne placed a hand on his leg to stop him jumping to his feet. He looked down at it, and Julianne was unable to block out his rather loud mental dialogue.
I can’t shield. Why the fuck can’t I shield? His eyes widened. That means she’s reading my mind! She heard that. I know you heard that, Julianne.
It’s ok, Julianne sent. I won’t take advantage of you. Not unless you ask me, she added with a wink.
“Our story begins on an island that never was, a tiny speck floating across the sea. Long have adventurers and seafarers sought this magical land… for here, and here alone, can the Fruit of Apollo be found.”
The light swung, picking out a willowy tree that swayed in an imaginary breeze. Bright orange fruit, glowing with a vibrancy that made them seem to emit light, dangled from branches in heavy clumps. Enigma floated over, steps so smooth that she looked like a ghost drifting across the thick grass beneath her feet.
She reached out a hand and plucked a tiny fruit. “Such fruit has never been tasted by mortals. This is the fruit of gods.” She tossed it into the air and it flashed, disappearing as flavor exploded in Julianne’s mouth.
Oh hell, she realized. Marcus isn’t the only one unshielded.
Kicking herself for not checking earlier, Julianne created a mental shield. The effort took more out of her than she expected, and she touched a hand to her forehead. It came away damp.
Carefully, Julianne created a light illusion to disguise her eyes, then sent out a mind-reading probe. Well, at least my other abilities don’t seem to be affected.
As the gasps and awe of the crowd touched her senses, Julianne brought her attention back to the stage.
Enigma had finished her dance. A cloud of fireflies twisted across the stage before flying into the air. They froze, twinkling like stars.
“…and as the sea rose, the island was swallowed by the water.”
At Enigma’s cue, water pooled on the ground. It bubbled and rose, touching first the shoes of the patrons, then rising to soak pants and dresses. The audience shrieked with excitement and joy as it quickly filled the tent.
The ladies’ silks floated and hair drifted in the gentle current, but the water was warm and whatever illusion was at work stifled any fear in the tent. The water was far above Julianne’s head before she realized she was still breathing normally.
A quick glance at Marcus confirmed he did, too. Though bubbles clung to his skin and his hair swayed as he turned his head, his voice was normal when he spoke.
“That’s one hell of a trick, Jules. You don’t think it’s one of them, do you?" he whispered.
The thought had crossed Julianne’s mind, but she shook her head. “I can’t see how the New Dawn would benefit from this, except financially. If it’s a coincidence, though, it’s a hell of a big one.”
Everyone in the makeshift theatre was mesmerized by the performance. At a call from above, all eyes turned upwards just as three acrobats swung down on fine wires, spinning and drifting over the stage like waterborne mermaids.
Julianne murmured a quiet word. Once she was sure nobody was paying attention to her, she stood and made her way to the little door by the stage. No one reacted. With one last backwards glance, she slipped through and closed it behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The tiny ale house was quiet. The lanterns had been dimmed, and Mary glared at Danil and Bette from her side of the bar, pointedly wiping down the bar in between large yawns.
“So, ye’ll speak ta Bastian on her behalf?” Bette asked.
Danil nodded. “Sure. Bastian’s got plenty of experience training up the different magical skills.”
He didn’t mention the string of accidents that had resulted from it, afraid it might scare Sharne away from developing what seemed to be a talent for some kind of physical magic.
“You’re not sure it is magic yet, though, are you?" he asked carefully.
Bette shook her head. “I still think she’s just fast, but Garrett swears her eyes changed when she smacked him down. Of course, he might just be soothing his poor broken ego.”
Danil laughed. “After what you did to him, I’m surprised he has any ego left.”
“Aye,” Bette chuckled. “I did give the lad a thumpin’. Had ta do it, though, the little prick was acting a right twat.”
“He hasn’t given you any trouble since?” Danil asked, swirling the last of the ale in his mug. He tipped it up and gestured to Mary for another.
Mary sighed as she filled it. “Look, you two obviously aren't going anywhere. I’ve had a shit of a day, though, and I need to be up early to squeeze a class in before I open up.” She tossed a jumble of keys on the table. “Turn the lanterns off when you go and lock the door. Drinks are on the house, but don’t go crazy. And don’t leave a mess.”
She stretched, and reached back to rub her back before untying her apron and dropping it on a nearby table. “See you in the morning, Danil.”
“Thanks, Mary,” he called back.
Danil had organized the early morning classes himself, noting that many of the working residents struggled to fit them in around their daily duties. Between those and the night classes, which Bastian would be finishing up about now, they had covered most of the village.
“Garrett’s a good man,” Bette said, continuing their previous conversation. “Not bad on the eye, either.”
Danil raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer, taking a long swig of ale instead.
“In fact,” Bette said, picking at a bit of crusted food on the tablecloth, “I was thinking I might ask him ta step out with me.”
Drops splattered the table in front of Danil as he choked on his drink. “You what, now?�
��
“Step out. Ye know, ask him fer a date.” Bette shrugged, her face ruddier than usual. “Unless ye think he’d say no?”
“It’s been less than forty-eight hours since you punched him in the face. You don’t think you should wait a bit?”
“Aye.” Her eyes dropped and she looked away.
Danil brushed her mind and immediately realized he’d made a mistake. She thought he was dissuading her because he’d seen something in Garrett’s mind to show he wasn’t interested. “No! I mean, I was only guessing. I don’t know what he thinks, I have no idea. Really!”
Perking up a bit, Bette straightened. “Ye think I have a chance, mystic? Because that man is a right specimen, he is.” She sighed wistfully. “That is, when he’s not being a giant prick.”
Danil winced. “Bette, this isn’t exactly my area of expertise. Last time I got involved, I damn near got myself killed.” The memory of Julianne’s icy gaze made him shiver. “Just… do what you think is right.”
“Eh. You’re as useful as tits on a bull. What’s the bloody use of all yer mind-readin’ oobey goobey if ye can’t help a lass out?”
“I promised him I wouldn’t read his thoughts, Bette.” Right now, Danil thanked his lucky stars he had. He didn’t want to get any deeper into this mess than he was.
“Fine.” Bette’s chair scraped the floor as she pushed it back. “Finish yer drink while I go wash the pitcher fer Mary, then I’ll walk yer blind ass home.”
Danil grinned as he waved his empty cup at her. “I’ll help you clean up, then I’ll walk your short ass home, aye?”
“I’d have a better chance of making it on me own than you,” Bette said.
Danil snorted. “I’ll have you know I’ve memorized every step in this village.”
“Not drunk, I’ll bet.” To prove her point, Bette spun around and shut her eyes.
A moment later, a clatter and a curse made her spin back. “Fine,” Danil grunted. “Not drunk.”
Chuckling to herself, Bette cleared the table.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Julianne sucked in a breath of clean air, glad to be away from the cloying incense. The tiny backstage room was crowded with costumes that were piled onto hangers and stuffed onto shelves.
A small corner table almost sagged under the weight of paints, powder tins, and brushes. Above it, a large mirror reflected the lantern light and gave the room a cozy feel.
Julianne quietly walked over to a curtain that cordoned off the far side of the room. She nudged it slightly to one side with a finger, then stepped past it.
This room was bigger. Clean sawdust covered the floor and a more orderly assortment of dresses, headpieces, and cloth strips lined one wall.
“I’m sorry, this area is for performers.” The voice made Julianne jump. She hadn’t seen the old lady in the corner, dressed in black with a lace veil over her eyes. “Let me show you back to your seat.”
“I came—” Juliane’s attempted lie faltered as someone slammed into her mind. It was a blunt attack, and she fought it off, slamming back against her shield to strengthen it. “Who are you?" she growled.
“I am Madam Seher.” She rose a hand in a quick gesture. “And you, my dear, are in trouble.”
Hands grabbed Julianne’s arms. She struggled, kicking out with a foot and trying to twist away. She failed.
A cloth was pushed against her face and she coughed, snorting in acrid fumes before she could think to hold her breath.
Her shield dissolved as fatigue swamped her bones.
Her mental attacker forced past the remnants of Julianne’s defenses, knocking aside her feeble attempt to summon her magic.
“What did you do to me?” Julianne mumbled, her mouth too numb to speak clearly.
Madam Seher didn’t speak. Instead, she lifted her veil to reveal glowing white eyes.
The presence in Julianne’s mind twisted and Julianne fell to her knees even as she coldly evaluated her opponent.
She was strong, but Julianne was stronger… or, she would be if she could summon a scrap of magic.
Julianne’s shields were down, and they weren’t coming back no matter how hard she tried. Her muscles were limp, too weak to even lift her head, so fighting wasn’t an option.
Seher pushed further into Julianne’s mind, picking out memories and examining them one by one then discarding them to move onto another.
“Let her go.” The cloth dropped away and Julianne sucked in clean air.
The strong hands let her down gently. Madam Seher took the cloth off the brawny man and stood over Julianne.
“I apologize for that. Times aren’t safe, and we had to be sure.”
“Sure of what?” Julianne asked. She coughed to clear the thickness in her throat and pushed up with her hands. She lifted her head, looking towards the curtain as it flew open.
“Found another, Mai—Madam Seher.” The man who’d attacked Julianne held up his prize.
Marcus stood carefully still to avoid pricking himself, at least until he saw Julianne on the floor. He lunged forwards in the big man’s grip and kicked backwards, a strike that should have snapped the man’s knee and brought him to the ground.
“Be still.” Seher’s white eyes blinked as Marcus slowed to a stop. “Jakob, make sure you don’t let him go this time? Not until we’ve explained.”
“Explained what? Who are you?” Julianne asked.
Madam Seher smiled. “Why, we are the resistance, my dear.”
Julianne shook her head. “What are you resisting?”
“The same thing you are. That man, Rogan. He and his lapdogs turned up in Muir not long before we were due to pass through on a tour. By then… well.”
“Bastards have old George wrapped around his finger. The young bastard, too, not that he needs incentive to be a cunt.” Jakob grunted, his face showing the distaste he felt for the young lord.
“There are a dozen or more of Rogan’s mages installed in the palace,” Madam Seher continued. “I don’t know who—some wear the blue, others seem to have integrated into the household and the guard. We’ve done what we can to protect Lord George, but I fear we have reached our limits. We move out in a week.”
“We can help,” Julianne said. She stood, brushing off her dress and hastily erecting a mental shield. “We ousted them from Tahn, and came here to take Rogan down for good.”
“You came here afraid for the people you rescued. You don’t have the numbers in either place to fight the Dawn.” Sadness touched Seher’s features. “As much as I wish you did.”
“You don’t need an army to take down one man,” Marcus pointed out.
“You do when that man is an army. He and his generals are too strong. You won’t be fighting them, but all of the innocents they control.” Seher folded her hands. “And I won’t stand by while the innocents of Muir are slaughtered in your quest for vengeance.”
“It’s not vengeance,” Marcus protested.
“Yes, it is,” Julianne said quietly. “They killed my people. They infested my Temple. I will have vengeance, but Madam Seher is right. The Dawners in Tahn deserved what they got. None of them needed persuading to hurt those people, the mind control was to keep them from rising against Rogan and August.”
“How do you know this lot are innocent?” Marcus asked.
Julianne shrugged. “We don't. That’s the problem. He’s come to a city, surrounded himself with people that can—that will—get hurt if this turns into a war.”
“What?” Marcus blustered. “We just go home? If we do that, how many innocents will get slaughtered when George’s shithead son comes to pillage our own?”
Julianne shook her head. “I didn’t say we’re going home. We just need to be careful, that’s all. We’re in a stronger position now we have allies, and—”
“We won’t be joining you,” Seher said sharply. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t risk my people, and I won’t start a war.”
Julianne’s eyes narrowed. T
he older woman had a hard, unflinching gaze, but something didn’t add up. “Who are you protecting, then?" she asked. “You introduced yourself as the resistance. A resistance doesn’t lay down and let the bad guys run them over. What’s your plan?”
The corners of Seher’s mouth turned up. “Clever girl. You won’t get an answer from me, though.”
“You can have one from me.” A hidden door in the back wall swung open and a young woman stepped out.
“Adeline?” Marcus gasped.
“You know her?” Julianne asked.
He blushed. “No. Nope. Absolutely not.”
Adeline laughed. “Apologies, soldier. I didn’t mean to drag you into my ruse.” She stuck a hand out to Julianne, who shook it despite her confusion. “My name is Adeline. Lord George is my father.”
Marcus groaned. “That fight with your boyfriend in the inn?" he asked.
“Not my boyfriend,” she laughed. “One of Seher’s men. I had to pass on some sensitive information. The Dawn don’t like the theatre group, they know most of the troupe have magic of some kind. They haven’t been brave enough to take them on, but they might if they realize they’re involved in conspiracy and treason.”
“Lady A, please don’t use that word,” Jakob begged. “I’ll do what needs doing, but I’d rather not think about it, you know?”
She chuckled and reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re liberating the people, and our rightful leader from an insidious force. Is that better?”
Jakob nodded with a wide smile. “Much.”
“Adeline, you know it’s too risky to be seen here,” Seher chided.
The girl shrugged. “It’s risky for me everywhere. Besides, August keeps leering at me, and it’s making my skin crawl.”
“Punch him in the balls,” Jakob grunted, a flash of anger for a brief moment.
“You know I can’t draw attention to myself like that. They’ll lock me up in a heartbeat, they only ignore me now because they think I’m a flighty, useless moron.” Adeline looked to Madam Seher. “Adding more people to our cause can only help. What do they have?”
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