Crown of Secrets (The Hidden Mage Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  The mage bowed again. “I can assure Your Highness it is not necessary to—”

  “I will decide if it is necessary,” I cut him off sharply. “You have neglected your duty and those above you have failed to ensure your competent completion of your task. The resulting error has placed a member of the royal family, as well as a member of your own team, in physical jeopardy. My guards have been forced to expend a large number of valuable compositions due to your negligence, and I demand recompense.”

  “I…” he spluttered, looking desperately between me and the unyielding Layna. “Of course. I…”

  “You are fortunate no one died,” I told him. “I will leave the details to my captain. I trust I will not be kept waiting long.”

  “Yes…I mean, no…” The man cut off his own words with another bow as I turned and swept back to my carriage.

  I shut myself inside and leaned my head back against the seat. Now that she had my authority behind her, I trusted Layna could arrange matters without my further interference. I just hoped she could manage the situation without involving the general. I really didn’t have the energy to deal with him today.

  Some time passed before Layna appeared again, climbing into the carriage and rapping on the roof. We began to move as she gave me an amused smile.

  “That was nicely done, Your Highness. Thank you.”

  I grinned back at her. “It’s the most entertainment I’ve had in days, truth be told.” My expression soured. “I hope you wrung him out for everything you could.”

  The captain nodded. “Naturally. He won’t be neglecting his duties again.” She gave me a knowing look. “And I reported the matter to the major in charge of the Wall dismantlement. I did not happen to cross paths with the general.”

  I blew out a breath of relief. “With any luck, he won’t hear I’m in Bronton until we’ve already left in the morning.”

  Layna hid a grin, although I couldn’t believe she relished the thought of running into him any more than I did.

  “I suspect that if he does hear of the happenings today, he won’t be overly eager to seek you out,” she said.

  I straightened. “Yes, of course. You’re right. He’ll be afraid I might give him an official reprimand. Can you just imagine how much he’d hate receiving one of those from a sixteen-year-old?”

  “Almost makes you wish he would come to see you,” Layna murmured, a wicked glint in her eye.

  I shook my head at my captain. “I, for one, just want my bed. The day has been quite long enough.”

  We had left at first light to reach Bronton in time for darkness to fall, and the long hours in the carriage had made me weary and irritable, even before the happenings at the Wall. But no doubt I would have to sit through a formal meal with whichever senior mage had been nominated to host me for the night. I didn’t need any more hassles with the Armed Forces on top of that.

  The next morning we departed at a more reasonable hour, having less distance to travel. I had slept poorly, though, and faced the day with trepidation.

  We reached the Abneris River all too soon, crossing it on a wide, sturdy bridge that hadn’t existed in the days of the war. Now, however, we were joined in our crossing by a party of merchants in a cluster of carriages, and a farmer with a horse and cart. The politics between Corrin and the Kallorwegian capital of Kallmon might still be strained, but trade between our two kingdoms was well established.

  While I had been to Bronton before, I had never crossed the river and entered the kingdom of our old enemies. None of the royal family had since the days of the war, just as none of the Kallorwegian royals had visited Ardann. We left the business of diplomacy to various representatives, a sign of the ongoing mistrust between our kingdoms.

  Until now. As of this moment, a princess of Ardann had not only crossed into Kallorway but was taking up residence there. Such a thing had not been done in living memory. My father had told me that when his own father—the old king—was young, there had been talk of him doing an exchange year at the Kallorwegian Academy. Apparently it had been a common practice in ancient times to foster ties between the kingdoms. But King Osborne had ascended the throne in Kallmon before the plan could come to fruition, inciting war with Ardann rather than seeking peace. The subsequent war had dragged on for thirty years, and he had eventually been killed by rebels of his own kingdom who were sick of the bloodshed and loss. His son, King Cassius, sat on the Kallorwegian throne now.

  But no Ardannian royal had ever completed their entire education in Kallorway. As far as I knew, no Ardannian mage had. While we had no reason to mistrust the competency of the Kallorwegian mages, Ardann still wanted its most important members schooled within its own borders.

  Which is why it made sense for me to be the first. My education mattered little. I was to attend the Academy because it was mandatory that every mageborn start at the Academy the autumn after their sixteenth birthday. Occasional exceptions were made regarding the start date, such as in the case of my father who had started a year late due to his participation in a delegation to the Sekali Empire, but no one could avoid attendance altogether. And my parents had always insisted I be treated like any other mageborn.

  I had dreaded starting, knowing that my inability to compose would only be more stark at the Ardannian Academy than it was at court. And at the Academy formality was put aside in an effort to encourage year mates to make bonds regardless of their respective families’ positions. My own parents had met during their years there and remained close to many of their year mates. Those bonds were one of the reasons my mother kept assuring me the Academy was about more than learning to compose.

  But the formality of my rank was the only protection I had ever had in a court that valued strength and power above all else. My parents claimed those values had improved since their own youth—that the court recognized different types of strength now in a way it had never done before. But the only strength I had was my royal blood, and at the Academy that would matter less than ever before.

  Perhaps it was my own earlier arguments on the matter that had helped sway my parents when Aunt Lucienne suggested I attend the Kallorwegian Academy instead. But replacing one unwelcome school for another had not been my intention. I recognized her genius, however, and didn’t put up a fight. Here at last was a way for me to help the crown—a task I was uniquely suited for, if only by my lack of ability. I was determined not to waste the opportunity I had been offered.

  More fields greeted us on the far side of the bridge. It was unsettling how similar the landscape looked to the road from Corrin. I had built up Kallorway in my mind as an unfamiliar place, but the land itself knew no such distinctions.

  Unlike in Ardann, where the Royal Academy had been built inside Corrin, right beside the palace, in Kallorway it occupied a remote location, closer to the border with Ardann than its own capital. It was a relief that I would not be facing King Cassius and the cutthroat Kallorwegian court. At least, not yet.

  All too soon, we were passing through a village, and I glimpsed the forbidding walls of the Academy rising in the distance. There was no elegant white marble here, but instead gray stone, both for the wall itself and the building that rose behind it. It was an unwelcoming prospect.

  My honor guard still rode in front and behind my carriage, accompanied by Layna and one of the other mage officers at the front, and the remaining two mages at the back. On the empty road we had made an impressive cavalcade, but riding through the looming gates of the Kallorwegian Academy, we looked small and outnumbered.

  I straightened, telling myself not to be so fanciful. Stuck inside the carriage, I could hardly judge what sort of impression we made. I touched the circlet on my head for reassurance. I carried the weight and authority of a crown and a kingdom with me. I didn’t need platoons of guards as well.

  My confidence faltered when it came time to descend from the carriage, but my training helped me keep my trepidation from my face. The courtyard in front of the vast build
ing was paved in a lighter gray stone but lacked the decorative touches of the entry to the Ardannian Academy.

  The Academy building itself stood freely in the middle of the walls, facing south toward the capital. But a number of substantial outbuildings pressed against the other walls, their form suggesting they were barracks or housing of some kind. It fit with the briefing I had been given. The Kallorwegians did not ascribe to the informality of the Ardannian Academy, and no doubt they did not wish their servants to live in the same dwelling as their own important selves.

  I suppressed a sigh. Here my royal blood would count for more than it would have at the Academy at home, but the thought of all the formality brought me no joy.

  I ascended the grand stairway to the wooden doors which swung open at my approach. Inside, I found an enormous entranceway that at first glance appeared filled with people.

  Only my years of royal training stopped me from faltering at the intimidating sight. Instead I raised my chin slightly, my eyes falling on a tall young man who stood at the front of the crowd.

  He met my gaze without hesitation, a glint reflecting in his eyes in response to my slight movement. But a moment later I was sure I had imagined it. His face remained cold and impassive, his eyes too dark to shine in such a way, although they made an impressive contrast with his light, sandy hair.

  The young man stepped forward, inclining his head in my direction. “Welcome to Kallorway, Princess Verene.”

  I realized at once who he was and was even more certain I had imagined the appreciative glint. He looked not much older than me and wore a white robe like my own, so if he was taking the lead in welcoming me, it could only be because he was Crown Prince Darius of Kallorway himself. And everyone knew the Kallorwegian crown prince kept his emotions well in check and far from view.

  I gave him a half-curtsy in response as befitted a junior princess to a crown prince.

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  An older man stepped forward to join him, giving a proper bow. “And welcome to the Kallorwegian Royal Academy. We hope your time here will be fruitful and your learning deep.”

  I gave him a regal nod. This man I recognized. Duke Francis—Head of the Academy. He had personally traveled to Ardann over the summer to reassure my parents as to the arrangements in place for my stay. His gray hair was just as I remembered, and his face as carefully neutral as ever, despite now being in the comfort of his own domain.

  Now that I had a moment to take everything in, I realized the crowd of people was carefully organized. No other white robes were in evidence, but silver-robed figures formed several lines to the duke’s right. To his left, an even larger number of servants, dressed in dark green uniforms, formed neat, still rows. I gave a shallow nod in their direction before focusing my attention on the silver-robed instructors.

  Their presence had given me a jolt at first, the color of their robes signifying officers of the Armed Forces at home. But here in Kallorway, the instructors and academics wore silver instead of the black they wore in Ardann. I hoped I would adjust to the change soon and not continually imagine myself surrounded by hostile soldiers.

  Other than the duke himself, the Academy had six senior positions, presumably the six mages standing in the front row, their junior instructors behind them. One of them drew my attention, standing out from every other mage present due to his gold robe. Duke Francis had assured my family that his trainees were protected by a sizable guard, and this must be their captain. Officially, the Academy Guard were an offshoot of the Kallorwegian Royal Guard, and their captain would therefore dress in gold.

  The man gave me a measuring look before his eyes moved on to Layna. When she met his gaze, her own expression cool, he gave her a solid nod as if to reassure her he was ready to take on responsibility for her charge. Now that it had come to it, I didn’t find his confidence reassuring. I wished my own captain could stay.

  But King Cassius had insisted that if I was to attend his Academy, I must do so alone as every other trainee did both in his kingdom and in Ardann. Not even royalty brought their own guards to the Academy. Such a thing would be an insult of the highest order to the Head of the Academy—a position just as senior as the Head of the Royal Guard. The Academies of both kingdoms had protected and trained their future kings and queens for generations beyond count, and if Cassius’s own sons were not permitted to bring guards, I could not do so either. I suppressed a shiver and wished my father had prevailed when he had argued with my aunt that the cases were not the same.

  I understood why she had not given ground to the natural worries of a parent, however. How could we hope to forge the much-needed new bonds of trust and connection if we began with an unforgivable statement of mistrust?

  It made sense, but that didn’t mean I liked it. I gazed around the large space, carefully keeping my face impassive while my insides roiled. The next morning I would bid farewell to my guard, and I would be left behind, alone in the heart of our rival’s stronghold, a trainee like any other. Welcome to the Kallorwegian Academy, indeed.

  Chapter 4

  Duke Francis hosted a formal evening meal in a small dining room that was part of a suite of chambers belonging to the Academy Head. Layna was invited to accompany me, although she was seated at the other end of the table, beside the Captain of the Academy Guard, who I learned was named Vincent.

  I kept a subtle eye on them throughout the meal, noting the way Layna seemed to relax as time went on, even giving the occasional smile by the time sweets were served. My captain had always proved an excellent judge of character, and if she was favorably inclined toward this Vincent, then it was a count in his favor as far as I was concerned. The thought gave me more relief than I had expected.

  I had assumed all six senior Academy staff would join us, but only two more were in attendance. They were the only ones who looked old enough to have been at the Academy for the current duke’s tenure—a span of several decades—and were introduced as a couple. The man, Hugh, greeted me with true welcome in his voice, a far cry from the cold formality I had thus far received, and I couldn’t help smiling at him. He was named as the head of the library and his wife, Raelynn, as the Academy healer.

  Her position surprised me. In Ardann, the Academy healer was a junior position within the healing discipline, not a senior Academy position. Yet another subtle reminder that I was no longer at home.

  Raelynn spoke quietly, but with as much warmth as her husband, the two of them carrying the conversation at our end of the table. I replied to them both with as much enthusiasm as my rank allowed, attempting to signal my gratitude for their manner. As the time drew nearer for my own people to leave, I grew more and more desperate to find some spark of friendliness in this unfamiliar place. It had been one thing to anticipate my solitary state from the comfort of home, but the reality was hitting me harder than I had expected.

  As I stole surreptitious glances at Prince Darius across the table, my mood didn’t lift. He, more than anything, was the reason I was here. The news he was finally to start at the Academy—two years late—had weighed heavily with my aunt.

  One day he would be king in Kallmon, and that day might be arriving sooner than the usual course would suggest. Rumors had long reached us that King Cassius intended to abdicate in his unsealed son’s favor as soon as Darius was at full maturity and power. And yet our intelligencers could tell us little about the crown prince’s opinions or intentions. The unexpected opportunity to have one of our own spend four years as his year mate had been greatly alluring to my aunt.

  But there was nothing in his face or voice to suggest he was likely to be any more friendly or open with his year mates than he was with his court. He ate with focus, replying when spoken to with precise, short answers. He volunteered nothing and never smiled at anyone.

  Given the stories of his ruthless and cold father, and of his own inscrutability, Darius was hardly a surprise. But my heart sank just the same. Passionate hatred would have give
n me something more to work with than this stony facade. I had clearly imagined that initial glint, desperate to see the beginnings of a connection between us.

  I took another bite and complimented the duke on the food, wondering if it was possible to sound more inane.

  “I will pass on your compliments to the chef,” Duke Francis replied. “Of course, once the year starts officially on the morrow, both you and Prince Darius will eat with the other trainees in the dining hall. But you may expect to find the food of a suitable quality even there.”

  “I look forward to meeting my fellow first years,” I said.

  A slight movement on the other side of the table drew my eyes. As soon as he felt my gaze, the prince stilled again, whatever emotion had caused him to stir already hidden. I looked back down at my plate but couldn’t resist giving him subtle glances through my lashes. Was it my presence in his Academy as a first year that managed to elicit a response, or was it his own long-delayed enrollment that weighed on him?

  I might be focused on the small differences, but most elements of the disciplines and Academies were the same between our two kingdoms. It made sense when our abilities were the same. And power stabilized in Kallorwegian mages at sixteen, just as it did in their Ardannian counterparts. They started at their Academy at the same age we did.

  But the Kallorwegian crown prince was not sixteen. He had celebrated his eighteenth birthday over the summer. By rights I should be year mates not with Prince Darius but with his younger brother, Prince Jareth.

  As if my thoughts had composed him into being, the door to the private dining room opened, and a young man stepped into the room. Everything from his features to his sandy hair proclaimed his relationship to the prince across from me, although the newcomer’s lighter brown eyes gave his whole face a warmer look.

  Inclining his head in a deep nod toward the head of the table where Duke Francis sat, the newcomer smiled.