“Thank you.” Jace looked at Salvon, sighed, and resumed his story. “Anyway, she made quite a convincing attempt to get me to lay with her.” He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “It was extremely difficult, but I told her no and sent her on her way.”
Narine arched a brow. “A tall, beautiful woman threw herself at you and you turned her away?”
“It sounds crazy when I say it out loud.”
“Why?”
He gave her a flat look. “You know why.”
“I would rather hear you say it.”
Sighing and rolling his eyes, he said, “Because of you. I told her I have…” He glanced at Salvon, the man smirking. “I have feelings for you.”
Narine smiled, uncrossing her arms to take his hand. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”
Jace chuckled and shook his head. “You are a piece of work. I don’t know if I should feel lucky or terrified.”
“From what I have seen of you two,” Salvon replied, “both reactions seem appropriate.”
Narine ignored the man, watching Jace as she sipped her drink. I think he loves me. The warmth inside made her giddy.
“Salvon, where do these Thrall come from?” Jace asked. “Are these men captured and brought here?”
Chuckling, Salvon shook his head. “Nothing so dramatic. Think on it. When a seer gives birth, the child will be human. A female child will grow to become a seer. The males…”
Narine gasped again. “The Thrall are their own children?”
“Yes.”
“And they cut out their tongues,” Jace added.
“They do.”
Narine could not imagine such a horrific act, especially to her own flesh and blood. “Why?”
“I know this is difficult to accept, but it is their way.” The old man stroked his beard, a habit he seemed to express while thinking. “The best I can tell, it is to prevent the men from revealing secrets occurring inside the temple. More importantly, they cannot recite prophecy without the ability to speak. Since they are never taught to read, they cannot record it, either.”
“That seems extreme,” Jace replied.
“Yes. But I believe there is more.” Salvon held up a finger. “You both know it is taboo for a female to become a wizard lord.”
Jace glanced at Narine. “Yes. Narine told me it has to do with some woman who abused the power, dominating the minds of her subjects.”
“Pherelyn,” Narine said.
“Exactly.” Salvon took a sip of his drink and set his cup aside. “I believe there is another, far more critical reason the seers segregate the male children.”
Jace narrowed his eyes. “You think male seers are considered an abomination. They do it to prevent the men from casting prophecy.”
“Casting?” Narine asked.
Jace shrugged. “What would you call it?”
“Predicting future events.”
“Regardless…” Jace turned toward Salvon. “That is why there are no male seers. Correct?”
“Very good, Jace,” Salvon said. “I believe the darkest prophecies of the past, those that took place long, long ago, were at the hand of male prophets who manipulated events toward their own ends.”
Manipulate? Sipping her ludicol, Narine considered the man’s assessment, an interesting contrast to the University’s teachings regarding male and female wizard lords. She couldn’t recall any mention of the seers during her eight years in Tiadd. In fact, she didn’t know if anything about Kelmar had ever been documented. For some reason, her memory was hazy, obscured by some spell she couldn’t quite grasp.
“The crowd appears eager,” Salvon said, rising to his feet. “I had better perform before I draw their ire.”
“Perform?” Narine looked around and realized the building had filled, only a few empty tables remaining near the corner where they sat.
He swung his lute off his shoulder. “Of course. Why do you think they call me Weaver?”
“I had wandred…” She frowned and tried again. “Wondered about that.”
“I am about to weave a story of adventure, discovery, and true love. Listen along. I suspect you will enjoy it.”
He left the table, stopped by the bar briefly, then continued across the room. In a cleared-out area along one wall was a single stool. He sat and began to tune his instrument.
“Weaver,” Jace said, drawing her attention. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at Salvon. “More like Weaver of Lies.”
Narine emptied her cup. She was feeling good. Spectacular. “Why do you say that?”
Jace shook his head, still watching Salvon, the man strumming his lute, the buzz of conversation in the room dwindling rapidly. “I find his responses to our questions a bit too smooth, as if rehearsed. It seems like he is reciting stories rather than answering with the truth.”
When Narine looked back toward Salvon, the room spun a bit, tilting this way and that. She refocused on Jace and waited for her vision to settle. “I didn’t notice. He seems friendly and helpful to me.”
Jace snorted. “Too helpful. That’s the problem.” He glanced down at her cup. “You finished another one?”
“Yes. It is quite good.” She leaned forward and rubbed his arm. “I would like to listen to Salvon’s performance. Would you be a dear and get me another?”
His brows arched. “Are you sure you are up to it? How do you feel?”
She gave him a smile and leaned closer to kiss his cheek. “You are kind to ask, but I am wonderfeel.” A giggle emerged. “I made up a new word.”
For some reason, he scowled rather than joining in her laughter.
“All right. I’ll be right back” He didn’t sound convinced, but stood and headed to the bar anyway.
Narine watched him, staring at his backside as he weaved between the tables. He has such a cute little arse, she thought, giggling to herself.
Jace ordered two more cups of ludicol from Arletta. It still felt odd to not offer up coin. The thought of a society not requiring payment for goods or services was difficult to grasp. He then realized the concept made thieves irrelevant. What good is it to steal if you can just have anything you want? Not having to work to achieve a better life left him wondering why the people even bothered. The entire concept of a moneyless society turned his stomach. It just isn’t right.
Arletta returned, the two pewter cups refilled. As she moved on to assist a pair of dwarven soldiers who had just settled in at the bar, Jace grabbed the cups. His head buzzed, his surroundings shifting slightly as he crossed the room. This stuff is strong. Not quite as bad as swoon, but much stronger than ale. He noticed Narine watching him, a lazy smile on her face. It made him curious about what she was thinking. The drink seemed to affect her greatly and left him wondering where the night would lead. Reaching the table, he set the cups down, but before he could sit, she pinched his backside.
“Ouch!” he said, spinning toward her. “What was that for?”
She grinned, her lids at half-mast. “Your arse is just so precious. I had to pinch it to see if it was real.”
He rubbed it and sat. “Trust me, it’s real, as is the pain.”
Leaning close to him, Narine ran her hand up his thigh. “Are you injured? Do you need me to make it better?” She gave him a gentle, yet very inappropriate squeeze.
He jumped. “Narine!”
Her laughter was like a chiming bell. “You’re embarrassed. I didn’t know it were possible.” She frowned. “Or is it was possible?” Shrugging, she lifted her cup and took a long drink.
Jace grabbed her wrist and eased it downward, stopping her. “Perhaps you have had enough ludicol for today.”
“What do you mean?”
“This stuff is strong and seems to be affecting you.”
Her brow furrowed. “Affecting?”
“Narine, you are drunk.”
“Pffftt,” she spluttered, spraying spittle at him. “I don’t drink alcohol.”
He wiped hi
s face dry. “I know. That’s the problem. This stuff is strong for someone unseasoned.”
A gasp emerged, her eyes gaping into her cup. “This is alcohol.”
“Yes. I thought we had established that.”
Hurriedly, she slammed the cup onto the table, spilling some of the hot liquid. “I didn’t know.” She lifted her hand up in front of her face, examining it as she rotated her wrist. “I am drunk.”
Jace grinned. “Yes. I would say so.”
Her eyes grew frightened, and she gasped. “I can’t do it.”
Frowning, he asked, “Do what?”
“Magic.” She shook her head, her eyes growing sad. “It’s not working. I’m too drunk.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. You will be fine. We are safe in a city beneath a mountain. Honestly, I don’t think there is even crime here.”
She looked at him, blinking. “I’ll be fine?”
“Yes. Your magic will be returned in the morning. In the meantime, perhaps you should enjoy yourself.”
Slowly, her smile returned. “How’d you get to be so smart?” Gripping his chin, she added, “And so cute. Not just your arse. Your face, too.”
He gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from his face. “Perhaps we should leave, get you back to the temple before I have to carry you.”
Her hand ran up his thigh again. “When we get there, I have a gift for you.” She looked down at herself. “It’s wrapped in a blue dress. I’ll even let you do the unwrapping.”
The grin she gave him was lecherous. Jace couldn’t help but grin back.
“Did you think we wouldn’t notice two strangers snooping about the city?”
At the deep, familiar voice, Jace looked over his shoulder. Hadnoddon and two armored Guardians stood a few feet away, all three with arms crossed over their barrel chests, biceps bulging.
“We were just leaving,” Jace said, gripping Narine’s arm to help her stand.
“Yes,” Hadnoddon growled. “You are coming with us back to the temple.”
Jace was irritated by the dwarf’s tone. “We are heading back to our rooms. Whether you come along is your choice.”
Narine pulled away, stumbling toward Hadnoddon. She reached out and poked his nose. “Don’t be so grumpy, Hadondondon.” Giggling, she tried again, but twisted the dwarf’s name twice as badly with the second attempt.
Jace hurried over, took her by her upper arms, and eased her back from the grimacing dwarf. “Pardon the princess. She has had a bit too much ludicol.”
“Lu. Da. Coal.” Narine said the word one syllable at a time. “It sounds funny. Ludicol.” She giggled again.
The two dwarfs bracketing Hadnoddon chuckled, one commenting, “She’s hammered.”
“Yes,” Hadnoddon grumbled. “I just hope she doesn’t get sick on us.”
The dwarf captain spun about and headed toward the door. When the other two dwarfs gestured for Jace to follow, he put an arm around Narine and guided her forward, her weight shifting from side to side as if she were stumbling across a ship’s deck in rough waters. The thought gave Jace pause, and for good reason.
The moment they stepped outside, she spun away, leaned against a wall, and began to empty the contents of her stomach. He swept her hair back and winced while she retched. Hadnoddon glowered while the other two dwarfs grinned.
When she was finished, Jace held her upright and guided her toward the temple with Hadnoddon in the lead. Narine had grown quiet, her half-lidded eyes glassy. During the trek, he held her upright, knowing she would fall if he didn’t.
The dwarven escort remained with them all the way to the temple guest quarters. When they reached Narine’s chamber, Hadnoddon unlocked the door, and Jace guided her inside. A stride from the bed, she collapsed forward, landing face-first into her pillow.
Concerned, Jace pulled her hair aside and turned her head so she could breathe. A snore informed him she was already asleep. Shaking his head, he looked down at her and sighed.
So much for unwrapping that gift.
Jace turned and walked out, waiting while Hadnoddon locked her door. “Please have a pitcher of fresh water sent up. She will be thirsty when she wakes.”
20
Unloved
Tendrils of pink graced the western horizon, the clouds like claw marks raking across the midnight blue sky. The walls of Illustan glowed dimly, the effect increasing as the sky darkened.
With her jaw set, her eyes narrowed against the wind, Priella Ueordlin gazed upon her home for the first time in nearly nine years. She hugged her thick, winter cloak to herself as the ship turned toward the harbor.
Her time at the University had not been particularly pleasant, but it had given her the distance she desired. In truth, she could have passed her Trial and returned a year earlier but had avoided doing so. She now regretted her procrastination, regardless of her motives.
“You cannot alter the past, Priella,” her father’s voice rang in her mind. It would be the only place she would ever hear him again.
The captain shouted, ordering the oars to stop, the vessel drifting toward the pier where dock workers waited. Among them, a contingency of the Gleam Guard, eight armored soldiers, awaited her arrival, their polished plate reflecting the azure light from the enchanted lanterns illuminating the pier.
Footsteps on the deck drew near, stopping beside her, the man gripping the rail, his fingers covered in black leather, as usual. “I have spoken with the captain,” Bosinger said. “He will have your trunks unloaded soon after we dock, then we can head up to the castle. I am sure your mother is anxious to see you.”
Priella turned toward her bodyguard, who watched her with narrowed eyes. The man’s hair remained brown, flowing to his shoulders, but his trimmed beard had begun to gray. He stood six feet tall, same as she, his shoulders broad, chest thick, body fit. He took his job seriously, often intense, always focused.
“Do you honestly believe so? When has she ever expressed a desire to see me?”
The man’s eyes closed on a wince, his voice pleading. “Years have passed. Your father is dead. She cannot turn to your brothers, for they are lost, as well. All she has now is you. I know your history, your troubles… Allow them to remain in the past. It is the best advice I can offer.”
She drew in a deep breath, watching sailors as the ship was secured to the mooring. Bosinger always was direct when the two were alone, ignoring proprieties and status. He had done so since he was first assigned as her protector, twelve years earlier. She valued his wisdom.
“I will try, as long as mother does the same.”
The man nodded as the planks were set between the ship and the pier. “Very well. Let’s be off.”
Disembarking, Bosinger led Priella to the waiting Gleam Guard, addressing the men at the front. “I am Bosinger Aedaunt, Protector of Princess Priella Ueordlin.”
“Well met, Protector. I am Lieutenant Irraskin, second to Captain Theodin. My men and I will be escorting you to the palace. A carriage awaits.”
“And our things?” Priella asked.
“I will leave two of my men behind to ensure safe delivery to the citadel.”
“Perfect,” Bosinger said. “Let us be on our way.”
With Irraskin in the lead and his soldiers trailing, they traveled the length of the pier, passing dockworkers and sailors who paused to stare. None cheered. Nobody called out her name. Even if they recognized her, she expected no such treatment. The people of Illustan harbored no love toward her that she could recall, and certainly not in the years prior to her departure.
Priella was thankful to reach the carriage and find refuge inside, away from judgmental stares. Bosinger stared at her from the other seat, his gaze measuring her until the door closed, the interior turning to shadow.
The carriage rolled away from the docks and onto the road leading into the city. Priella kept the curtains closed and rode in silence. As usual, Bosinger had read her mood and remained quiet, al
lowing her to consider the impending reunion. It was unlikely she would think of something to say to her mother she hadn’t already considered during the voyage from Tiadd. Even so, the words she wished to say replayed in her head.
I am a master wizardess. A grown adult. I am prepared for the yoke of responsibility.
The carriage slowed, and she heard guards calling out, the exchange informing her they had passed through the palace gate. Unable to resist, she peered through the curtains.
Pale statues lined the driveway, interspersed between trees bereft of leaves. The statue of Rictor, her eldest brother, came into view – a young man with his fist to his chest, staring defiantly toward an unseen enemy. Five other statues slipped past, each honoring one of her dead brothers, each younger than the one prior. Dark memories crept up, capturing her thoughts and twisting them toward its own ends. She released the curtain, closed her eyes, and leaned back, wishing Pallan had chosen another family to curse, another family member on which to place the blame.
A lurch disturbed her attempt at meditation, her eyes opening as the carriage came to a stop. She stared at the door with a grimace. It opened to reveal a cobblestone driveway, a fountain in the center. Irraskin peered around the door, his gaze meeting hers as he waited for her to step out.
Bosinger put his hand on her knee. “Remember, she is your mother. Family is the core of Pallanese values, the royal family the greatest of all.”
The man stepped out and surveyed the area while waiting for Priella. She lifted the skirts of her dress and climbed out, her stomach roiling. The remaining four soldiers in their escort remained in the saddle, waiting patiently. Priella felt their eyes on her.
“Come along, Your Highness.” Irraskin led them toward the door and inside.
The trio climbed five stories before entering a familiar corridor leading to the royal suites. Two guards in gleaming plate stood outside the door of her parents’ chamber. Mother’s chamber, she corrected herself. Father is dead, another male Ueordlin gone, the last of the line.
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