Felling Kingdoms (Book 5) (5 page)

The frightened girl carefully picked up the ball with delicately bended fingers and held it to her eyes. His gaze had not softened. Snapping her eyes shut, she swallowed it.

They flew open a few seconds later, and she gasped. Her fingers rapidly scratched at her chest, “My Element!”

Nolen leaned forward in interest.

“What of it?” Pike asked.

“I cannot feel it! It’s gone! What did you do?” she cried, tears springing to her eyes.

He waved a hand in a gentle gesture, and his face took on a calming expression. “It will come back. Inform me the moment it does.”

“How long will this last?” she asked as she tried to stem her emotions.

“A few days.”

“
Days
?” She jumped to her feet and rushed out in tears.

Nolen tapped his fingers on the armrest. “How did you do that?”

Pike looked up as if noticing him for the first time. “Ah, it is a condensed version of the same patterns we used in incanted stones, but with a twist. I canno’ quite work out how to make it last longer than a few days, as the body breaks the lead down.”

“What is the longest it will work for?”

“The longest I managed was three days, but I hope this will version will last five.”

“Is it the size of the ball that factors in?”

“No, it is the patterns themselves.” Pike tinkered with the little spheres before him.

“What will you do with them?”

Pike grinned. “Sell them t’ the highest bidder.”

“How many do you have?”

Pike winked and picked up a fresh one, manipulating it with a white pattern.

A servant entered with Nolen’s ale and cheese, and Ryker joined them, summoning for tea. “It is too quiet.”

Nolen held his goblet up. “Agreed.”

Ryker cocked his head and clicked his cheek as he watched Pike. “Nolen, tell me of the women what bedded the Head Mage.”

Nolen leaned back with a wistful smile. “Where do I start?”

Ryker clicked again. “Tell me, were there any he was fond of? Any he would be remiss t’ lose?”

Nolen narrowed his eyes as he grinned. “There may have been. It was difficult to tell with him, but he hesitated with one—a pretty blonde slip of a girl.”

“Hesitated?”

“I had to tell him twice.”

Ryker nodded slowly as his lips toyed with a grin. “Tell me more, I may have use par her.”

Chapter 7

“What—is—
WRONG WITH YOU
?” Gabriel exclaimed. “It’s
too early
for this.”

“You have a Council Meeting.” Mikelle replied, standing on his bed.

“Not for hours.” He grabbed his pillow and put it over his head. She jumped again, jostling him.

“In
less than
an hour. You’ve slept in again.”

He grabbed another pillow and held it over his head. She took a handful of the blankets and pulled them off him.

“I could be naked,” came his muffled retort.

“I’m not sure you know what a threat is.”

He reached blindly for the blankets, and she snatched a pillow away. “I ask for so little,” he muttered.

“There’s bacon for breakfast.”

He rolled to his back, head still covered. “How
much
?”

“How does one quantify bacon?”

“I won’t get up for less than five slices.”

“Then you better get up before I eat them.”

He took a fistful of the pillow and threw it in her direction. “I need a manservant to wake me like normal people. No one would wake a King this way.” He shook his mussed hair and ran two hands through it, squinting at the open curtains. “Do I have to dress myself
too
?”

She laughed and hopped off the bed to search his wondrous wardrobe. She grabbed a coat trimmed in black cord and found a pair of matching high-waist trousers along with simple shirt and a vest.

He was lying back on his bed when she exited, so she threw the clothes on his stomach to make him choke.

“Why is it,” he rose, “that my clothes keep getting tighter?”

“Obviously you have put on weight.”

“No, no that is not the case. I’ll ask again, but I’ll rephrase this time since I know my tongue does not always translate through your Arconian brain. What have you done to my clothes?”

She gave him a sly smile. “My dear Gabriel,
I
would never do anything to your clothes, specifically the trousers.”

He snapped a finger at her and his lips screwed. “You little vixen! You’ve had them all taken in!”

She shrugged.

“I do so much,” he muttered and marched into his dressing room where she heard the whisper of clothes, “and ask for nothing but a little decency and respect now and again….”

“Your bacon is getting cold.”

“Woman! Don’t even look at it!”

He exited a minute later fully dressed, his trousers not as tight as they should have been but still snug enough to be entertaining. “You better lock your door.”

“We need to discuss how to make threats someday,” she smiled, following him into the study. He grabbed the plate of bacon strips compulsively and sat at his desk. He was halfway through the first strip when someone knocked on the door. Gabriel hung his head in defeat and called for entrance.

Afton stepped in wearing a pale lilac dress covered to the neck and a gray scarf around her shoulders. “Head Mage, I wanted to check you before your meetings.”

He waved a hand and went back to his breakfast. She stepped beside him and ran her hands over his head, down his neck, along his jaw, and held a hand against his forehead. All the while her white pattern pulsed.

“Mage Mikelle, what color are his lips?”

“It’s between the color of a rose petal reflection on new fallen snow and finely ground nutmeg.”

He stopped chewing at looked at her. Afton smirked. “Dare I ask t’ color of his skin?”

“Don’t answer that,” Gabriel snapped.

“Lamb’s wool and Shalabane sandstone.” The women tittered together.

“I need more male friends,” he muttered and went back to his bacon and reports.

Afton released his head. “Do you know where Lael is? I did not see him t’is mornin’.”

Gabriel seized Void, laid the searchers-pattern, and pointed west.

Mikelle sighed. “I will never get tired of that hair.”

“Raven black?” Afton smiled.

“No, white.”

“
White
?” Afton gasped, her face suddenly horrified. “Release Void!” she exclaimed and grabbed his arm. “How long have you had white hair?”

“A…month or two?” He set down the piece of bacon. “What does it mean?”

Afton wrung her hands. “You’ve spent too much time in Void. Void is dangerous, uncharted, and it strips us of our humanity. If you spend too much time using it, you will be lost to it. T’ white eyes is t’ first sign, white hair t’ next. By t’ time you turn transparent, it’s too late.”

“Lost to it?”

“You become one wit’ Void, a walker of t’ spirit world and reality but not fully part of eit’er.

Gabriel looked past her for a while, lowering his head with a groan. “I was told it was a sign of mastery.”

“Whoever told you t’at was tryin’ to kill you.”

He glanced at Mikelle and clenched his jaw. “How long do I have?”

“T’ere is no tellin’. Years, decades, mont’s. You need to detox it from your body.”

“How long will that take? I need Void to shift and search.”

“A mont’, maybe two. You’re betrothed, yes? You might…” she lowered her voice but Mikelle read her lips, “have fertility issues.”

“That explains why Maxine hasn’t conceived in years….”

“Robyn needs heirs,” Mikelle muttered.

He glared at her. “Go stick your face in something that muffles sound. Afton, I have to use Void. The Arch Mages use it, they have white hair and have been fighting for years.”

Afton bowed. “As you say.”

He gently grabbed her arm before she walked away. “Thank you for telling me. I would like to train in Void with you someday. You know patterns I have never seen.”

“I would be honored.” He let her arm go. “Please continue to rest as your body has not yet recovered.”

He looked at Mikelle accusingly. “Are you listening?”

With a bow Afton left them and closed the door behind.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I always knew something was wrong.”

“You knew Maxine was trying to kill you.”

“Yes, but part of me hoped I was wrong about her.” He prodded the papers on his desk. “She vowed not to fight me.”

“I would not bet on it.” She folded her hands and did her very best to hide the grin blooming to her lips. “Finish your bacon. Council Meeting in two hours.”

Robyn awoke with the sun. Her bones ached, but her body was warm and cozy under the cloak. She adjusted her position and realized the ground was much softer than she expected, warmer too, and it smelled nice.

Her eyes flew open to see Virgil’s tanned chest slowly rising and falling in the dim light of morning. Her hand lay on his stomach partially covered with the cloak, and as she became aware of her surroundings, she felt his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She slowly pulled her hand back.

‘Whatever you do, don’t summon the Head Mage.’

The night had laid his wounds bare, and she could see bruises forming around the wound on his chest and on the knuckles of his hand resting against his ribs. From her lofty vantage point, she could see his hip had sealed nicely though a black bruise formed on the lower part of his hip bone. He took quite a beating to save her.

His chest rose higher as he took in a deep breath and raised his free hand to his face.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

He groaned an unintelligible reply in Arconian and stretched his back which cracked several times. “How did you sleep?”

“Exhaustedly. How do you feel?”

“Sore.” He raised up on his left knee to look at his hip, brushing off the congealed blood. “Not bad for a Queen.”

She rose.

“No, cold,” he muttered, but she raised up anyway, draping the cloak around him. The fire died long ago, but she did not want to stay long enough to relight it. The sooner they returned to Shshonan Palace, the better. They were going to cause a flurry of rumors as soon as they set foot in the city.

Virgil slowly stood and brushed himself off. Robyn traced the lines of bruises forming over his back with her eyes and winced for him. He slowly pulled his trousers over his hips. The bloodied fabric crinkled where it dried.

“You look terrible.”

He looked down at her with a surprised smile. “This is nothing.” He grabbed his shirt and tunic. “I take worse in a tourney.”

“Don’t be so bold.”

“I am truthful.” He extended his hand and pulled her to her feet.

“I have taken feather beds for granted,” she winced, feeling her spine unwind. He slipped his shirt on as she unbraided her hair and finger-combed it.

He whistled sharply, and I’aya cantered into view. “We are a few hours out of Rabier. Can you wait for breakfast?” He hefted the saddle over one shoulder and laid out the saddle pad.

“I’ll manage.”

He finished tacking the horse and stuffed the last of his things into the saddle bags. He looked at the horse’s eyes. I’aya dropped slowly to her belly.

“That is amazing,” Robyn whispered. Virgil threw a leg over the saddle and guided her to sit behind him, wrapped in his cloak. I’aya lurched to her feet with a groan, and they were on their way.

“Is the hip staying closed?”

“So far.”

He found the road in short order and reached a hand back to take hers up, putting it around his waist and did the same with the other. “Hold on.”

I’aya jumped forward into a leggy canter, and Robyn’s fingertips dug into him, feeling a solid wall of muscle as he tensed to stay balanced.

“What were those men after last night?”

He looked over his shoulder after a moment. “A Prince can fetch a hefty price in ransom. A Queen even more. I have my crest embroidered on my tunic.”

“They could not possibly have seen it in the dark.”

He shrugged. “A thief knows his horseflesh, and any fool can spot a noble among serfs.”

They rode in silence for a while, pacing the horse as the hills rolled out before them.

“How long will you stay?” he asked after a while.

“I have not decided.”

Hours passed before signs of Rabier finally appeared on the horizon. The city was still celebrating. Flags fluttered in the ocean breeze, and the revelry grew louder the closer they drew.

“I can skirt us in the side door,” he said and steered off the main road, riding well around the city to a small gate towards the back. The palace was not far off, and he asked I’aya for a lengthy canter to minimize their time in the city. The more people saw them, the more rumors would develop.

He raced through the gate, into the palace, and slowed to a walk as grooms hurried their way to him. “My Prince, what happened?” a man asked in Arconian as he took the reins. Another came to the left and helped Robyn dismount.

“Ambush.” Virgil kicked his boots from the stirrups and braced himself with both hands on the saddle. Easing himself to the ground was painful, and he put a hand over his hip with a wince. “Make sure she is rubbed down with a hot meal and turnout. I will not need her for a while.”

Virgil gave Robyn his arm and walked slowly to the massive doors, favoring his left leg. The soldiers let them in with concerned expressions. He took the stairs bravely, walking her all the way to her room.

“Rest yourself. I have something I want to give you later, so do not rest too long.” He kissed her hand and opened the door for her.

“Your Grace!” her youngest maid gasped as Robyn stepped in. “What happened?”

“Ambush. Please send for a meal and draw me a bath.” She flopped into a chair wearily and pulled off her boots. “And someone tell the Head Mage to shift that fine a…”

“Rose or lavender in your bath?” the maid peaked from the washroom.

“Lavender.”