Authors: Kate Sparkes
“Who?” I kept my voice soft, not wanting to draw so much attention to myself that he’d stop speaking.
He sank into the armchair. “The old king is back.”
I acted surprised. “How? What does that mean?”
“For now, it means nothing. The throne is mine, unless he takes it back by force.” His fingers tightened over the ends of the chair arms, digging into the upholstery. “If the people see me destroying him outright, they’ll hate me for it. Ulric was weak-willed, and ultimately bad for the people. True, the threat in Darmid isn’t as urgent as I may have implied to some when I wished to gain support, but the fact is that he should have dealt with it years ago. Belleisle, too, should fear us far more than they do, and should be part of our territories. I deserve this position. I will have my empire.” His voice became agitated, and his hands clenched into fists as a hint of magic even I could feel touched the air. I struggled not to take off running from the room.
And yet, a small part of me wanted to agree with him, to assure him that he was right, that no one could conquer him. How much worse would that be, I wondered, if I wasn’t protecting my mind?
“You’ll have your empire,” I whispered, allowing a hint of that deference into my voice. He’d be expecting it.
His lip curled in a snarl. “I won’t have it without the people’s support, and I’ll lose that if they see how I break the old man. It’s almost funny.”
“What?”
“I did betray him, in part because of the weakness I saw in him. And now I’m bound by the same laws, the same rules, and if I break them, I may lose the people’s support as he always feared he would. Maybe he was weak, but he was less of a fool than I suspected.”
“So what will you do?” I didn’t know how I’d get the information to Ulric, but I’d find a way. At least I had time. Ulric wouldn’t attempt to attack Severn until he had his strength back, and that meant waiting for my return.
“Don’t you worry about it,” he said, and nodded to himself. “Thank you, Nox.”
“For what?”
“I needed to think this through, and speaking to you has helped immensely. I see now that I have only one choice. I must defeat my enemy, but I can’t allow it to happen here.” His gaze sharpened. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I realized I had let my guard down. I turned my gaze toward my feet. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been treated this way before. Never been allowed to help someone so powerful. I can see why Sara enjoys it, but it overwhelms me a little.”
He frowned. “You may go now.”
Finish what you were saying.
“Thank you, your highness. If there’s any other way I might help...”
“Not now. Sara won’t be returning to work today, but you may continue. Use her notes, whatever you need. I’ll leave word that you’re in charge of the Potioners until her return, and I’ll instruct Myk to hand over your room key to you. We’ll see what Sara’s new assistant does with a little freedom.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He flashed a charming smile that I didn’t trust. “I think you will, at that.” He stretched his shoulders back and sighed. “Gods, but the crown is heavy.”
I went to the door, and though he followed again, he didn’t touch me. I was grateful for that.
I turned back. “You said you’d leave word. Are you going somewhere?”
His eyes turned cold. “I said you’d been useful. Beyond that, you’d do best to mind your business and leave everyone else’s to them. Understood?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Good. You have potential, Nox. Don’t waste it.”
This time I didn’t wait for Myk to escort me.
I ran.
37
ROWAN
“
R
owan!” Victoria’s voice, calling from near her tent.
“One minute!”
I grunted, and slopped water onto my boot as one of the two buckets I carried bounced off my leg. Apparently my magic did nothing to give me increased strength.
Pity. That would make so many things easier...
That’s not to say that things
weren’t
easier. Over the days since my breakthough with Griselda, I’d spent as much time practicing on my own as I had helping in the camp, though I took her advice and was careful not to push myself too hard. I’d found so far that calm surroundings seemed to help my magic replenish faster, but even then it came slowly. The only advantage I had was still being acutely aware of the sensation of it moving through me, so I always had ample warning when it got low.
There was no chance of my flame accidentally burning out.
I’d kept working on fully accepting my magic, focusing on all the good it could bring to the world instead of the destruction it had caused. I’d practiced calling water, and had drawn up another spring closer to camp. I was also doing what I could to keep Victoria’s gardens watered. The system wasn’t perfect. She was depleting the soil faster than we could replenish it, even with the fertilizer that the horses so generously provided. Still, we were both doing our part, and my skills and control were developing rapidly.
Rapidly, and on my own terms. No using anger to propel my power, as Ulric had suggested. No focus on fighting. At least, not yet.
I dropped the water buckets off at the infirmary tent. Ulric hadn’t spoken a word of praise to me for my assistance in keeping the camp going, and I didn’t care. I had value, and I knew it. That was all I needed.
Well,
I thought as I watched Aren enter his father’s tent, shoulders slumped under the weight of whatever he was dealing with.
Almost all I need.
I’d decided to let myself remain undecided on many things, including what to do with my bruised and battered heart. Every rational thought told me that staying away from Aren was a good idea, and I was trying. I was also working on letting go of my people’s ideas of what made a successful life, namely getting married and everything that followed.
The problem was, it wasn’t my people’s beliefs or my old expectations that made me want him. It was just Aren that I wanted, and my heart wasn’t about to give up on him just because my brain and every outward circumstance said it was better to let go. I would, eventually. I had no choice. But I wouldn’t deny what I felt, or harden myself to my concern for him. That wasn’t me, and I was done denying myself.
No more being who I think other people want me to be. A Sorceress’ life is too long to live by anyone’s rules but my own.
I met Victoria at her tent, and was surprised to find Griselda, Florizel, and Morea with her. Three of them I knew well, but Morea was still a bit of a mystery to me. She was nice enough, and had offered to work up something that might help my problems. But she was a strange sort of quiet. Not nervous quiet like Florizel, who now stood beside the tent, watching me approach, ears flicking this way and that. Nor did she have Aren’s intense, calm quiet. Hers was more like a mystery that she wrapped close around her, a shield that closed the world off even as she worked within it.
I’d decided I liked her for it.
She held out a silver flask. “I feel like I should apologize for the container,” she said. “It was all I could find without leaving camp. My others are all in use.”
I smiled. “At least it’s convenient. What’s happening?”
Victoria held up a covered basket. “Griselda suggested it might do us all good to get away for a few minutes. Still within the protections, but we decided we could use a little space. This won’t be much of a picnic, and no better than what they’ll be serving at the cook tent, but a little quiet might be—”
A resounding belch echoed through the camp, followed by laughter.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. I didn’t mind being around people, but the sounds and smells of the place were getting to me. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when we added more to our numbers.
“And I want to see how your magic is coming along,” Griselda added. “Better to test you now and give you time to recover. We can try that potion out.”
I tried to smile as though that sounded like a wonderful idea, but couldn’t. Using magic on easy tasks was one thing. A test was another entirely. The old doubts crept back, and I shoved them aside.
You’ll never help Aren defeat Severn if you don’t learn to work under pressure,
I reminded myself.
We headed out into the woods. Just before we reached the boundary, we stopped. Griselda had found a pleasant spot for us at the top of a high, rounded rock that curved gracefully up from the earth. Without her illusions protecting us we’d have been dangerously visible.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Griselda. She was doing the work of two now that her friend Maks was gone.
She shrugged one shoulder. “The magic isn’t a problem, but I’m not used to such continuous usage. Still, it’s good experience.” She was obviously trying to look for the positive side of the situation, but her voice came out flat, and for the first time since I’d met her, she seemed exhausted.
We finished our meal—dried meat, fresh fruit, and slightly stale bread—in almost no time at all, and Griselda turned to me with an expectant look.
“Water?” I asked. “That’s what I’ve been working on, and it’s coming along well.”
“Then no. Try the illusions now.”
I supposed that made sense. Versatility would be as important as strength in battle.
Morea and Victoria sat in quiet conversation, but I knew they were paying attention.
I’d start with something simple, but not too simple. I focused on a tall pine at the base of the rock and let my magic flow through me. A moment later a duplicate appeared next to Florizel, who shuffled away. The tree was pale and unconvincing, but with additional effort I made it look solid and real, from the hair-like needles to the rough bark.
Griselda bit her lower lip and narrowed her eyes. “Good. Give me more.”
I created a second tree exactly like the first, and a third. The last one was paler, no matter how hard I worked on solidifying it. Florizel sniffed at the illusion, then walked through it.
“How does that feel?” Griselda asked.
“It became easier as I went,” I said, “and seemed to use less magic.”
She nodded. “As it should be when making copies of copies. Go back to the original when you can and work from that. Continued reproductions may be easier, but they’ll continue to deteriorate in quality as you go on.”
I looked to the live pine again, and reproduced it. I felt the drain on my power more acutely, but she was right. It looked more real. A squirrel leapt onto the branches of the real tree, and after a few minutes I managed to add it to mine. It took far more concentration to form the illusion, but once there it followed the movements of the original exactly, without direction from me.
“Lovely,” Victoria said, and laughed as the real squirrel let out a stream of rodent profanities that the illusion could only silently imitate.
“It really is quite good,” Griselda said. “Given how short a time you’ve been doing this, it’s amazing.” Her brow knit, and I could nearly see the ideas and connections flashing through her mind. “Makes one wonder how much of the early training we do is necessary… But no mind.” She shook her head and smiled to herself. “Thoughts for another time. Is your magic depleted?”
“More than I care for.” The loss left me feeling cold, and a little sad. I didn’t know exactly how deep the well went, but I knew I didn’t want it to get too dry.
“Use more,” Griselda said. “Drink the potion first, but then I want to really see what you can do.” The smile had left her, leaving something more cold and analytical in its place.
Morea stood and came closer. “That may not be wise,” she said. “I have no idea whether the potion will work.”
“She won’t use it all,” Griselda said, just loud enough for me to hear. “And she’ll recover, either way. This is just to see how long it takes.”
I already felt a hint of the warmth returning, but my own experiments had taught me that I never felt exactly right for hours after I used any significant magic. I drank from the flask and hoped Morea was as good at her job as her father seemed to think she was.
I took it slowly, focusing hard on challenging my magic and my skill. More trees appeared, and more squirrels. I pushed harder, drawing on memory to add the slinking form of a red dragon. It wasn’t realistic or particularly detailed, but marked a more difficult form of illusion that I’d only attempted once—and that accidentally, propelled by fear.
An empty chill filled me, and I stopped. The dragon had drained me further than I had wished.
“Well?” Morea asked.
I waited. Nothing came back. I turned my attention away from the illusions, which still drew faintly on my power to maintain themselves. That was a little better, but not by much. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s working.”
Morea reached out and took the flask back. “At least we know,” she said. “I’ll see whether I can come up with a different approach.” She thought for a moment. “Victoria, would you help me back at camp?”
They left, and Florizel made her way off the rock and into the real forest to forage. Griselda motioned for me to sit.
“Might as well enjoy the quiet while we can,” she said. “See how your recovery comes. Let me know when you feel something.”
“I will.” I let the illusions fade as I sat on the rock and turned my face up to the sun, and felt Griselda watching me.
“Have you thought more about what we talked about?” she asked.
“About accepting my magic? I think it’s all coming along well.”
She cleared her throat softly. “About Aren. About letting go. Have you thought about what you might like to do when this is over?”
I looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Seems a little silly to make plans at this point, not knowing when or how this will be over.” I spoke flippantly, but my insides had turned to a mass of jelly at the mention of Aren.
“Your heart will heal.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
She moved closer and leaned back on her elbows, turning her face to the sunlight that streamed unimpeded through her illusion. “I know. But you must. Your life will be too long to live it with regrets. It took me many years to learn that, and I’d like to spare you some of my pain.”