“Your father was not uninvolved,” I murmured.
He looked at me sharply before shuttering his gaze again. “That is also not forgotten.”
I sighed. This conversation was going nowhere helpful.
“It’s true that they would never have sent my brother, Lucien,” I said. “But I am not so valuable that I cannot be used in the cause of peace. Ardann would see our kingdoms grow close and prosper together.”
“Would you now?” he asked, drawing the words out in a way that made me want to snap out a biting retort. I held it in.
“Yes, we would.” I hesitated.
He must know of my limitations. My family had been open with Duke Francis, and I had no doubt the royal family of Kallorway had been informed of the situation long before that.
“I serve my family where I am most able,” I added, after a moment.
His eyes narrowed, and he took two steps toward me, closing the space between us.
“Do you? I’ve been wondering about that.”
I frowned. “Wondering what?”
Did this have something to do with the words he’d cut off earlier when he heard my choice of discipline?
“Wondering how exactly you intend to serve your family in Kallorway.”
“Exactly as I just described. I am here as an ambassador. That’s why your father and the duke permitted my enrollment.”
“Yes, my father permitting it was perhaps the most surprising of all. I think he was delighted to have Ardann admit that the mighty Spoken Mage had a daughter with no power at all.”
I blinked, a tingling feeling rushing down from my scalp. I should be used to the snide comments and veiled insults by now, but the words hit hard delivered in such a bald way. Darius had given me no reason to expect such frankness from him.
He didn’t seem to note my distress, however. Instead he prowled even further forward, until almost no space remained between us at all. The hidden danger in his eyes was back, every line of his body suggesting restrained power. It took everything in me not to pull away.
“But as for me,” he said, “I don’t believe a word of it.”
I gasped, jerking back as if slapped.
But he made no move to back off, and I refused to step away and cede him ground. Not here in my own sitting room.
When I said nothing, he continued. “For centuries, we have sought every possible way to circumvent the limitations of power. But it cannot be done. Power—and its lack—is a birthright. And yet you want me to believe that Prince Lucas—the product of generations of royal strength—and the Spoken Mage—the strongest mage to ever live—produced a child without any power at all? Such a thing is beyond belief. My father’s desire for it to be true blinds him.”
Sudden fury drove away my earlier shock. I rose onto the balls of my feet, leaning in toward him.
“Do you think I haven’t spent sleepless nights thinking that very thing? Do you think every member of my aunt’s court hasn’t whispered such things in the corridors? Do you think I want to be powerless? But you cannot make something true just by thinking it should be so. Not even you, Crown Prince Darius.”
I punctuated my final three words with a finger stabbing into his chest. But still he didn’t budge, a solid rock against the tide of my anger.
“But you can hide the truth,” he said, his voice turning silky, but no less dangerous. “You grew up in a court so you must have learned that reality on your mother’s lap, just as I did. So don’t think you can play games with me.”
“My life is not a game,” I snapped.
“Is it not?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Then you would be the first royal able to say so.” He leaned in, our faces barely a breath away now, the intensity of his presence robbing me of air. “But I think you know that perfectly well. I think you know that acting weak is the oldest deception of all.”
“I am not weak,” I said, hating how breathless the words came out.
A slow smile crossed his face, although it held nothing of amusement.
“It never occurred to me you were, Verene. Just don’t make the mistake of thinking I am.”
He pulled away, his sudden absence as great a shock as his closeness had been. Giving a formal bow, he wished me goodnight and strode back through the door to his own sitting room.
I watched the tapestry fall gently back into place, still struggling to gain my breath. I had thought emotion—any emotion—would create more fertile ground than the prince’s apparent icy indifference. But he had just pulled back the veil and let me see what lurked beneath, and I was no longer so sure. Because Darius didn’t hate me, he saw me as a threat. And something told me he was ruthless when dealing with threats.
And yet, when I climbed into bed, it wasn’t fear of failure that filled my mind. Instead I kept remembering that initial glint I saw in his eyes when I first arrived. I had later concluded them far too dark for such a thing. But now that I had seen them up close, burning with the intensity he usually kept hidden away, I realized they weren’t dark at all but a rich, deep brown. They were the sort of eyes that might hide far more than just a glint.
Chapter 10
By the next morning, I had made a decision. I wouldn’t shield the door behind the tapestry as I had originally intended. Instead I released a second shield to protect my bedroom door. If I was to succeed here, then I had to keep my one connection to Darius open—regardless of how he currently felt about me.
With his sitting room on the other side of the hidden door, I need have no fear anyone but the crown prince would ever use the one entrance I had left open.
The next morning I once again encountered Dellion in the corridor outside our rooms. However, this time she only nodded at me, continuing on her way to breakfast without speaking. Her grandfather had been the one to negotiate peace with Ardann, but he had never forgiven us for installing Cassius on the throne. The general did not view Ardann with a friendly eye, and it seemed neither did his granddaughter.
I trailed behind, glancing hopefully up the stairs when we reached them for any sign of Bryony. I didn’t find her until we reached the dining hall, however, where she already sat with Tyron on one side. I hesitated at the sight of them, remembering their prediction of the day before. Sure enough, both princes sat across from them. Darius looked up and saw me, nothing in his face giving away that we had shared an intense conversation the night before.
My back straightened, and I marched across the hall, slipping into the remaining seat beside Bryony. I would not be scared away by Darius, whatever suspicions of me I now knew he harbored. I had four years here, and eventually he would have to see that I was being truthful about myself.
“Good morning, Princess,” Jareth said, as if trying to make up for his brother’s coldness with his own cheerfulness. “I trust you’re finding your accommodations to your liking.”
“I will admit there have been some surprises.” I carefully refrained from looking at Darius. “But overall they have been very comfortable, thank you.”
He smiled. “Surprises of the good variety, I hope.”
I considered his words. “That remains to be seen.”
A small movement made my eyes fly sideways, just in time to see Darius looking quickly away from me. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. The crown prince would soon discover I wasn’t so easily intimidated.
“I see you brought your sword this morning.” Bryony grinned at me.
I smiled back. “It will be a relief to fight with a well-balanced blade again.”
Jareth raised his eyebrows. “You showed no sign of discomfort yesterday.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure royals are allowed to show signs of discomfort. Or are things so different in Kallorway?”
Jareth laughed and gave a mocking glance at his brother beside him. “Not so different, I assure you.”
Darius rolled his eyes at Jareth but otherwise didn’t respond to his obvious prodding. The exchanges of the brothers continued t
o fascinate me, as they had done my first evening at the Academy. Darius seemed to let his guard down for his brother and no one else. The two were clearly close beyond the normal sibling friendship I shared with my own brothers, and something about their bond unnerved me. Perhaps it was because Darius was so closed off and hard to read, but I struggled to accept Jareth’s apparent open friendliness.
When the bell rang for the end of the meal, we all stood together, but Darius and Jareth soon drifted away from the rest of us. Bryony had also arrived with a sword belt strapped around her waist this morning, but I noticed Tyron still lacked one.
I grimaced at him sympathetically. “You didn’t bring a blade from home?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t realize we needed to supply our own weapon. I’ve learned a great deal about this place in the week I have been here, but I knew very little when I set out from the Empire.”
“What led you here?” I asked. “Why come so far? Does your family have any ties with Kallorway?”
Tyron shook his head. “Not until now. I am to be the one to change that for us all.”
When I gave him an inquiring look, he continued. “When my family sought refuge in the Empire with the other energy mages, they were placed among one of the clans of sealed mages. Those clans do not train their young people as the other clans or the southern kingdoms do.”
I nodded. “Of course. I’ve heard about that. I suppose it makes sense that their only focus would be on increasing their skill and stamina in preparation for their sealing ceremony. I’ve heard the more commonborns they can seal, the more honor they bring to their family. And they don’t train for a full four years either, do they?”
“Yes, that’s right,” he said. “And energy mages cannot perform sealing ceremonies—you need power for that—so there was never any question of my joining them. I always knew I would have to travel to find proper training. And by traveling just a little farther, I may win future value and position for my family.”
I nodded. It wasn’t so different really from my own reasoning for being here.
I spoke on impulse. “I brought a secondary blade with me which you would be welcome to use. Its reach is probably a little shorter than your preference, but it’s better quality than the ones we used yesterday.”
Tyron hesitated, looking to Bryony, as if to check if it was safe to take my offer at face value.
“I can vouch for any blade of Verene’s,” she said. “But I think you would be far better in the long run in sending for one of your own. It would be a pity to go a whole year with a blade not fit for your size.”
Tyron nodded. “Perhaps I might borrow yours, Princess, just until I can secure one for myself?”
I nodded. “I’ll bring it down with me tomorrow.”
We stepped over the short fence into the training yard where Instructor Mitchell looked just as dour-faced as he had the day before. When warm-ups were completed, I looked around for a partner, but everyone seemed busily occupied not looking in my direction.
I sighed and turned to Bryony. Apparently after Royce’s performance the day before, I was to be further shunned.
“Don’t worry,” Bryony said cheerfully. “You can’t blame them for not wanting to face your blade. They know they’ll be beaten.”
I smiled, my spirits lifting, as they always did in the face of my friend’s good humor.
“Instead I’ll have to accustom myself to being the one beaten,” I said. “Since it appears you’re to be my permanent sparring partner.”
“I’m sure Tyron will give you a chance to beat him from time to time when the defeat gets too much for you,” Bryony said with a cheeky twinkle in his direction.
He grinned back at us. “I’m sure I could accustom myself to facing off against Princess Verene. I might even learn something.”
He showed equal willingness later in the lesson, when Bryony suggested switching partners, and I was grateful for his easy-going attitude. But when we actually fought, I felt guilty for spending our entire bout thinking of the label Bryony had given his fighting style—uninspired. He was technically proficient to a reasonable degree, but he didn’t have the extra flair of creativity needed to win against an equally skilled opponent. And he wasn’t as skilled as either Bryony or me to begin with.
When he fought with Bryony, I finally found myself facing a new partner. Jareth bowed with a flourish before proving himself more skilled than me, although only just. He forced me to yield with appropriate restraint, and I gave him a nod as I mopped my brow.
“An excellent match. It’s good to know I’ll have more of a challenge here than just Bryony.”
Jareth grinned lazily. “I’m more than happy to beat you any time you’d like, Princess.”
“Verene, please,” I said. “We are both royalty and now also year mates. If we can’t dispense with the formality with each other, then with whom?”
I could feel eyes on me, but I refused to turn and look at Darius. He had been the first to drop my title, back in my sitting room, and if he thought to complain, I would remind him of it. Although somehow I didn’t think he wanted that conversation becoming public knowledge.
Jareth, however, did look over my shoulder, his smile growing more sincere. The subtle change in his expression made me shift uneasily. He put on an engaging manner so easily, but seeing him respond to his brother showed how superficial it was when directed toward others. But it was too late to take back the invitation to drop formality between us.
“Certainly, Verene,” he said when his attention returned to me. “I look forward to our next bout.”
I gave him a half-bow, and he stepped past me. I finally allowed myself to turn and watch Darius greet him with murmured words too low for me to catch. Jareth looked back at me over his shoulder, smiling when he saw me watching them, before moving away with his brother.
What lurked beneath Jareth’s smiles? And what had his brother thought of our bout?
The afternoon proceeded much as the previous day’s, with everyone returning to the same seats in composition. I learned one thing in the class, however. The girl who sat beside Dellion was called Isabelle.
I was certain she had never been mentioned in any of the briefings I had received before I came and could only conclude her family rarely appeared at court. The impression was borne out by her apparent lack of friends or connections among our year mates. Some Kallorwegian mages chose to distance themselves from the power games at Kallmon, and it appeared her parents were among their number.
It was perhaps unfortunate for her that we were such a small year group, or she might have had companions from a similar background. But then I had heard many of the recent year groups at the Kallorwegian Academy had been small—a result, I supposed, of the massive social upheaval going on in the kingdom in the years between the end of the war and our births. Apparently many of the upcoming years were a great deal larger.
The days fell into a pattern, and somehow the first two weeks passed. Instructor Mitchell still had us spending our time on free bouts in combat, merely prowling up and down the yard, issuing advice as he saw fit. Instructor Alvin was still lecturing, and I could feel the impatience levels rising among the other trainees. My year mates wanted to compose. After all, they had been waiting sixteen years to finally be free to do so.
Instructor Amalia also lectured, although she did so with none of Alvin’s good-natured cheer. I still found her lessons fascinating, however, since she jumped straight to an intermediate level, often engaging Bryony and Tyron in discussion.
She ignored me completely, unless wishing to test me on some minutiae of their conversation. But I appreciated the reprieve and was happy to listen. The subject matter was interesting enough to ensure I was always paying close enough attention not to be caught out by her occasional questions.
Bryony and Tyron both had the most common energy mage ability—the ability to gift others their energy. But Amalia had previously had a trainee with the ability to tak
e energy, and all three of us were interested in her explanations of that process. When the energy mages descended from the mountains to rejoin the power mages, the Sekali Emperor had scattered them throughout his people. And since their abilities ran in families, many of the second-generation energy mages had been given little opportunity to interact with those of differing abilities.
“When you give energy,” she explained to Bryony and Tyron, “it is a free gift, and the one who receives it keeps it until they have used it themselves, as they would use their own energy. You are left to restore the lost energy in the way you would restore any energy you expended—through rest.”
“Can those who take energy not keep it?” Bryony asked. “That seems less than useful.”
“Energy taken by force wishes to return to its rightful owner,” Amalia said. “Of course I haven’t experienced it for myself, but I’m told it pulls against the thief, straining with greater and greater strength, until at last it breaks free and returns.”
“Unless it has no owner to return to,” Tyron said quietly.
Amalia looked at him with narrowed eyes before nodding decisively. “It is an ability that lends itself to aggression. If the energy mage drains all of another person’s energy, then that person dies, and their energy dissipates.”
Bryony grimaced. “I’ve always been glad I don’t have that ability.”
Amalia gave her a disapproving look. “Every ability has its uses for good or ill—it depends on the creativity of its possessor to find the potential for practical use.”
“As long as the energy mage shows restraint, I can see the value of such a gift,” I said slowly. “There are situations where a person’s life might be saved if they could be effectively rendered unconscious for a time. It’s a better alternative than being forced to kill them.”
For once Amalia gave me an approving look. I didn’t meet her eyes, however, scared of what I might see there. Did she know why I found it so much easier than Bryony to see the potential value in any ability? I didn’t have the luxury of rejoicing over a superior gifting.
Crown of Secrets (The Hidden Mage Book 1) Page 9