Of Blood and Deceit

by Rachel A. Collett

  “I wish I could do that,” I said, shocked by the admittance. I once mistrusted anything magical, but Castiel didn’t use his magic the way I knew Johan would wield it.

  Castiel leaned against the trunk of the tree, stretching one long leg out along the branch. “The moving of objects is not every magician’s gift. That doesn’t mean we don’t try to see if you can. And I have other tests I want to perform today.”

  Regret bubbled within. I never did well with tests. My uncle enjoyed giving them, and I enjoyed failing them all. But with Johan, I couldn’t show what I was capable of. With Castiel it was different. I didn’t want to fail with him.

  The haze from the potion blurred my vision. Despite knowing what it was, I still blinked to clear my sight, without success. I splayed my fingers against the bark of the tree, then froze against its rough skin.

  Warmth spread from my hands up my arms and coursed through my chest. Peace washed over me, and with it a sense of happiness I had never felt. The tree’s lifeforce pressed back. Alive and inviting, it supported our weight with its strength. I closed my eyes to the sensation and allowed it to draw me in.

  “I can feel it,” I whispered, afraid I would scare it if I was any louder.

  “Feel what?” Castiel asked.

  “The tree.”

  “Are—are you being serious?”

  I could hear the disbelief in his words but couldn’t understand why. How could he miss it? She was strong and fertile. She stretched toward the sun in her desire to continue her progression, anxious to shed her remaining harvest to make room for new growth. Her fruit, a gift to those that maintained her, needed to be removed.

  And I could help.

  Reaching out through our connection, I felt every leaf, every twig, every stem of the ruby-sweets. It would be nothing at all to snap those remaining stems—

  A roar swelled past me as a flood of ruby-sweets rushed to the ground unaware of anything or anyone in their path. Castiel swore as he reached for me, but I was knocked from my meditative state before he could grab hold. I cried out, tumbling backward, only managing to keep my grip and my legs wrapped around the branch. A second later Castiel toppled past me.

  When the final fruit fell with a thump, I called to him from my perch, my voice a strange octave I had never heard.

  “Castiel!”

  He groaned.

  I peered about for a way down, but the haze from the potion disoriented me. “Are you injured? Prince?”

  “What in Anolyn’s green pastures—? What did you do?”

  “I—” But I had no answer to give. “Is there a reason I’m still hanging here? Are you dead?”

  He sat up. “Of course not.”

  “Then get me down.” My mind whirled with the dizzying mixture of mead and potion. I eyeballed the distance, not trusting that I could make the stretch without falling on my face or breaking a bone. Gedeon would be disappointed if I got hurt yet again.

  Castiel grunted and got to his feet.

  My face grew hot as blood continued its path to my head.

  He moved below me. Our eyes were level, his expression thoughtful; then he twisted, dipping his head to the side. His brows cinched together, wrinkling his handsome features as he scanned mine. He looked to the mess of ruby-sweets on the ground.

  My hands sung in pain and I adjusted my grip, aware now of the scrapes from the sharp bark.

  “That was—amazing,” he said. And he smiled again in that way that made everything except for him disappear. Firm hands took hold of my waist. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight and obeyed. He flipped me over, guiding me carefully to the ground. When I opened them, I was tucked safe to his chest.

  My blood rushed from my face, making me light-headed. I allowed him to keep me close until my world stopped spinning, then gently pushed from him.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  I displayed my hands as if in explanation. “I told you.”

  Castiel tsked, seeing only the scrapes on my palms. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the scratches.

  “No, no.” I batted him away. “Castiel, I could feel the tree. With my hands. Couldn’t you feel it too? She wanted to be harvested, and my magic—my magic!” I inhaled a sharp breath and clapped my hands together. Something I could only describe as joy coursed through me. Despite everything I had ever been taught, every lesson my uncle beat into me, every ingrained warning, I jumped up and down like a silly schoolgirl. “Castiel! My magic! It worked!”

  Melora

  I shrieked and gathered his face into my hands. “I have magic I can use!”

  Castiel huffed a laugh. Capturing my wrists, he held them in his grasp. “I never doubted it.”

  “Touch really does help.”

  “It makes sense.”

  “It does?” But I shook my head to whatever meaning he was trying to get through and whirled in a circle. Melora’s potion intensified the sensation. I wanted to soar with the falcry. The prince only watched me, a growing smile upon his handsome face.

  I knew I was acting ridiculous. I had used my abilities before—but not in this way. This felt different. This felt good. I stopped twirling, my breath heavy and uneven. “Can you see it? My magic?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Is it blue?” I ran to the tree but all I saw was her greenish hue. I touched her trunk. Relief coursed through her branches.

  Castiel’s voice came to me from over my shoulder, close enough to make me whirl to the sound. “Silvery-blue.”

  For the next hour we practiced. I harvested a half-dozen more trees for the town, but also tested my touch on other objects. While I couldn’t elevate a stone the way Castiel could, I was able to focus my powers on the aura of the stone and send it away from me—not far, but it was impressive enough to the prince.

  Castiel stood in front of me, his hands outstretched. “I want you to try your powers on me.”

  “What?”

  “While the type of power you’re wielding can be used for good, it can also be for nefarious reasons. I want to see what you’re capable of.”

  “Is that smart?” I crossed my arms over my chest as a sudden wave of guilt swept over me. “What if—what if I asked you to take me to port?”

  He was quick to respond. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He took my hands in his. “Yes.”

  I flinched at the intense expression in his eyes. He trusted me. But had I done anything to earn that trust? Did I want to?

  I gripped his fingers and focused on his aura, that connection to his soul—his soul that was good despite everything I had come to believe about men. I closed my eyes and pushed my desire upon him.

  He jolted back, removing his hands from mine. A smile built in the corners of his mouth.

  “Very well. I’ll go get you more mead, and even some lunch, but not because your magic is forcing me to do it.”

  I gathered the full basket from the tree. “But how can you tell you’re doing it of your own free will?”

  He smirked then confiscated the basket, offering his arm instead.

  Without thinking I took it and together we walked back into town.

  After lunch, we did more work, but directly with the townspeople and using our hands instead of magic. We climbed ladders into the foliage and plucked ruby-sweets until our fingers smelled of fruit. Soon, like so many of the other men, Castiel discarded his shirt to the dirt beneath him. I, on the other hand, sweltered beneath my clothes as well as an apron now wrapped tightly around my waist.

  I tried to not stare, tried to not appreciate the lines of his muscles as he worked. Tried not to notice the way sweat glistened from his shoulders and chest. Unlike Mikael, not a single tattoo marred his marvelous sculpture of a body—because that was exactly what it was. A pristine sculpture worthy of notice. He turned to me, and I spun, almost plunging to my death from the branches.

  “You sho
uld pay attention to what you’re doing, my lady.”

  I cut back my colorful response and tried not to look at him at all. Feeling warmer than I ought to, I climbed down from my branches picked clean to empty my heavy-laden apron into the basket of a passing woman.

  I rolled my neck, stretching sore muscles, then meandered away toward the table of breads. Something I could only describe as peace filled my lungs, nearly stopping my breath.

  It felt wonderful.

  “Here you are, my lady,” said a young girl who watched over the baked goods, and she handed me another cinnamon cake, one of many slices I had gotten that day.

  I curtsied in my garb and strolled the town at leisure.

  Contentment washed over me like a soothing balm. It was like all my cares from the previous day had melted beneath a warm sun and hard work. For one of the first times in my life it felt good to be alive. I wiped the crumbs of cake off on my apron, wishing I had thought to take another cup of mead. I barely noticed when I reached the outskirts of town. It was a small town, after all.

  A woman waited just beyond the worn road. Braided light-blonde hair fell over her shoulder to her waist. Pale eyes watched me from within a striking face. She wore an attractive deep-blue dress that flowed to the ground. Jeweled bracelets decorated her wrists. When our eyes met, she raised a hand in salute and beckoned me further.

  And why not speak with her? She was lovely.

  I jolted, surprised by my altered mind. The woman froze, attuned to the change in my state. Still, a voice I had not recognized until now coaxed me forward.

  Come speak to me.

  I shook my head. “Who are you?”

  “Hello, Ilianna.” Her accent was as beautiful as she was, and there was something so familiar about her face.

  I took a step forward but kept my distance despite her lure.

  “Who are you, and how do you know my name?” I asked again, my words stronger than what I felt.

  “I know your name as you know mine.” The way she smiled prompted knowledge… and then fear.

  “I don’t know—” My breath seized in my lungs. Shock and instinctive panic warred within my mind. Their likeness was uncanny. It was Melia, but it wasn’t. Melia was her daughter. And Melia’s mother was…

  My voice trembled. “Melora.”

  Melora Seraphine. The seer.

  But it was impossible. This woman appeared to be no more than a few years older than Melia. I stepped away.

  Her eyes caught the movement and intent, then flashed again to mine. She took a willowy step forward, holding out her hand. “There’s so much mistrust in you. Hurt. Fear. You think you are alone, but you are far from it, Ilianna.”

  I swallowed, my tongue too thick. “I would never dare assume such a ridiculous thing.”

  She tsked. “It’s like an infection, but it spreads more like a plague. You must heal it before it feeds on your soul, leaving you exposed. She’ll find a way in.”

  “Lady Anna!” Castiel’s voice carried to me from over my shoulder, but I ignored him.

  “She, who?” I asked. When she didn’t answer, anger grew, supplanting fear. “Do you mean the Wraith Queen?” But who else could she mean? Seers were known for their tricks with words and double meanings. How could one believe anything they said?

  “Lady Anna.” Castiel’s massive form was in front of me then, blocking my view to the seer. His eyes scanned my face, worry embedded deep within them.

  The seer’s voice cooed. “My prince.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath but kept himself between us. “Mother Seer. What a lovely surprise. I see you’ve met my friend.”

  But now she had eyes only for the prince, leaving me forgotten. “It’s always such a delight to see you.” She closed the gap, her long, lean form graceful, her dress wafting in a sudden breeze. Could a seer control the elements?

  She reached slender fingers to Castiel, who took them to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

  Those slender fingers clutched him closer. He lurched forward. “I always said Melia should choose you. Whoever takes upon them your yoke will reap the benefits of a fine… bloodline.”

  My eyes grew large at the double-meaning.

  Did the prince blush? “My brother is the better choice.”

  She sighed. “But is he?”

  Castiel cleared his throat. “Come, Ilianna. It’s time to go home.”

  “Wonderful.” Melora thread her arm through his. “You can escort me to your brother.”

  The trip home was even more uncomfortable than the ride to Rhyolyn. Melora traveled on the back of Castiel’s horse, her arms securely tightened around his middle. As if in recognition of her presence, the horses doubled their speed. As much as I wanted to, it was almost impossible for me to ponder this woman—the seer—while clutching the reins for life and limb.

  It took everything in me not to retch. My world was still spinning when we made it within the castle walls. Melora hung on to Castiel as we entered, ignoring me completely. Mikael and Reese met us outside the throne room.

  Mikael held out his hand, halting us. “The king is in council,” he said, his voice distant and formal, but his eyes grew wide upon seeing who decorated the prince’s arm.

  Alarm shot through to my innards and I clutched at my stomach. “Is it my uncle?” The nonsensical question flew, unchecked from numb lips as the blood drained from them. Even though I did not look, I could feel the seer watching my reaction. Could she read my thoughts?

  Mikael’s face betrayed nothing. “I am unable to answer any and all inquiries.”

  Castiel balked. “Excuse me? Step out of the way, Captain.”

  Reese’s jaw flexed, and Mikael stood taller. “I would, Your Highness, but the king has given direct orders that you are not to interrupt his meeting. He wishes you and my lady,” he said with a glance toward me, “to join him for dinner.” He looked to Melora, his smile tight. “And I’m sure the king would want you to join as well, Madam Seer.”

  One brow pitched high. Alarm flashed in Reese’s eyes as the seer considered both men. “If I wanted to see him now, young ones, I would. But it’s just as well. I need to rest. Maybe a warm bath and a change of clothes.” And even though she returned his smile, it seemed more like a threat.

  “Of course, ma’am,” Mikael said.

  She twirled and laced her arm through the prince’s. “And I’m sure the prince would escort me. I take it you’ve kept my room ready?”

  Castiel’s gaze flashed to mine, an apology. “Of course. Reese, please take Lady Anna to her room.”

  I wanted to refuse his request. To demand that he stay with me—although why, I didn’t know—but the prince was already being dragged away by the impatient seer.

  Emotion rooted me in place. Anger, disbelief, fear—they warred within, eager for victory over the other. I reached inward, sensing my magic for the first time without the need of the seer’s potion. I cast it from me but it was too late. Castiel was gone and I was alone.

  I closed my eyes to the unwanted sting.

  “My lady?” Reese’s soft and impossibly deep voice almost soothed. When I opened my eyes again, he stood, waiting, concern within his expression. “Will you allow me to escort you?” It was a request not an order, and I was grateful for the distinction. I took his arm.

  In a trance I moved, my brain fighting against use until we reached my door. I released Reese’s arm, but before I could step away, he seized me by the wrist.

  I inhaled, shocked, and spun to glare at him, but Reese’s appearance disarmed me immediately. Concern swam in his big eyes.

  He leaned forward, speaking low. “Johan is not here. Don’t worry, Princess.”

  Relief broke my defenses as emotion sprang to my eyes. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his incredibly large neck. Reese froze beneath my embrace. I wondered if he was afraid of me, or worried I would trick him again, but a second later a firm hand pressed between my shoulders. He patted my ba
ck then peeled me from him. I did not bother to check the tears that flowed down my face. His warm fingers gently wiped one from my cheek.

  “If your uncle comes, it won’t be any time soon. The falcry would have the missive to the border by the first night, but while they are fast, our carriers are not. It’s at least a three-day ride from the border. Even if your uncle were to stop what he’s doing—”

  I almost laughed at my stupidity. “He wouldn’t.” It would take six days by carriage after receiving the missive—that trek was doubled in the winter. No matter the season, I wasn’t that important for him to rush from his throne. I had several days—weeks, most likely.

  “Go. Get ready for dinner.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” I said, and I wasn’t shocked to realize I meant it.

  Time crawled at a snail’s pace. I had been bathed by Sameen and dressed in a soft lilac gown long before dinner’s arrival. A book I had taken from Meyrion’s library did little to catch my attention. I just held it, flipping through pages I did not read. Something had happened, something important, but what, I could hardly guess.

  If it wasn’t my uncle, then who else claimed the attention of the king? Could it be the Wraith Queen herself? I doubted it. There would be triple the guard if that were the case. Could it be Weylan, or even Cy the demon? But even that didn’t make sense. Why keep his brother from entering the throne room? I felt the snub acutely on Castiel’s behalf and stewed over the meaning.

  A knock at the door sounded and I raced toward it. Melia and Reese waited in full combat gear to escort me. “So, can we discuss yet what this is about?” I asked as we ushered down the hallways. “And why do I feel like I’m being led to the gallows?”

  “Always so dramatic,” Melia said behind me, but while her words were meant to tease, there was an edge to them.

  “Not yet, my lady,” Reese added, and I gave him a small smile.

  As hard as it was, I remained quiet. There was a strange feeling about the castle. Several armed guards I had never seen paced the hallways, sliding sideways glances at me, their hands on the hilt of their weapons. Unfamiliar voices floated toward us from the reception hall. Additional guards stood sentinel at the entryway, barring our entrance.