Mage Slave
Page 4
He understood her rebelliousness in a way, even admired it. No powerful creature could stand to be caged. It was still remarkably stupid of her. There was no way for a mage to ever be freed—why did she expend any energy on rebelling against something that she knew she could not change? It was like defying the sun.
Well, there was one very unlikely way a mage could be freed… but if she succeeded in this mission, they would put an end to that as well.
“It is a shame to lose a good spy in the process,” he said, trying to extend a peace offering.
She sighed. “Indeed. Especially after the loss of Dekana.” She eyed him sideways.
“That was an accident,” he said through gritted teeth. “They can’t kill themselves. We’ve forbidden it.”
Her eyes bored into him. “Believe what you will. She was alone in that tower.”
“There is no way to know—”
“Their minds and their actions might be ours, but don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re more powerful than you are. Their hearts are their own. I know you are not so thick that you can’t see their hatred. If this one you’ve sent even survives, you’ll see. The same hate grows in her that blossomed in Dekana.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You might not believe it, but heart and mind are not wholly separate entities. If we push her too far, she will be of less use to us. That spy’s mind will become less effective, no matter how much we bid her to do our will. We could push her. We could also break her.”
“I thought you were convinced this was a suicide mission.”
“It is. But on the off chance that she succeeds…”
“Then she will have gained invaluable experience, and we will have a chance to eradicate any last shred of the forbidden magic.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s been ninety years. Thousands of mages were killed after the Dark Days, and the rest hid and cowered in fear. The practice of magic in Akaria is nonexistent. Anyone who knew it is long dead in a lonely cave somewhere.”
“If you were an Akarian with the knowledge to undo everything we’ve built here in Mage Hall, what would you do? Would you let it die? Would you just forget about it?”
She pressed her lips together but said nothing.
“Seulka, all of our power comes from one source—them.” He pointed toward the courtyard. “And there’s one thing—and only one thing—that could ever undo that power.”
“The star magic.” She cast her eyes to the floor, avoiding him.
“Indeed.” He crossed his arms and glared. She was another fool who hoped that someone else would handle her problems, who dreamed they would just magically fade away.
Well, the world didn’t work that way. Luckily for Seulka and the king, Daes would rather get a jump on his problems with a knife to the ribs.
And that was exactly what he was going to do.
Aven strolled in a side door without pomp or circumstance, and so at first, no one noticed him. His visitor was easily recognizable, though, and his mother had not oversold her or her bow. The foreign princess stood speaking with his father, and even from afar he could admire the determined set of her eyes, the confidence in her shoulders, a certain level of power in her stance. Her black cloak swept out majestically behind her. Beaded strands of the sapphire and gold of Isolte hung from a jeweled headband. Hair of clove and walnut fell straight and smooth, framing her face. The delicately carved dark wood of the bow shimmered gold in the firelight, and an aquamarine-studded leather quiver hung comfortably over her shoulder.
He must have studied her too long, for her eyes darted over and caught on his. His stomach dropped with a sudden rush of fear as she fixed a cold gaze on him for the briefest moment. He had made no special preparations today, he realized—it hadn’t even occurred to him to consider what she would think of him and if he cared to influence such an opinion. Would he be able to impress her? What if she decided she didn’t want him? How often had a single glance made his confidence crumble so? Her eyes darted back to him as she seemed to decide that he was not just another onlooker. Something in her eyes was icy as she examined him, like a hawk eyeing prey.
She was indeed different from the others. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Just as he began to raise his hand and step forward to meet her, a voice interjected. “Late to join us again, as usual, Prince Aven.” Lord Dyon, his favorite critic. Well, if he could say nothing else for the man, he had a certain impeccable timing and a knack for observation. Dyon always seemed to notice when he was conspicuously late—almost always because Aven was trying to stuff his magic back into its stupid little box.
At the thought of it, a tendril of hair fluttered against his forehead. Oh, hell, he couldn’t win. Why did he even try? Oh right—potential persecution, execution, banishment, that sort of thing.
“Pardon my delay, I was kept by pressing affairs of state,” he said once a requisite amount of silence had passed. A subtle tactic his father had taught him to indicate both that the comment was not important enough to be acknowledged and was also frowned upon. Not appropriate in every situation, but certainly in this one.
“No apology is needed,” she said in a confident, solid voice. “I see you keep a more benevolent and open court than my father.”
“And what would make you say that?” Aven’s father asked, smiling wryly.
She paused. Hesitation? No, her eyes were sure. Her own subtle technique, no doubt. With amused eyes, she flicked her gaze from the king to Aven, then looked straight at Lord Dyon when she said, “In my land, such a comment would not be tolerated.”
Well, my, my! What kind of woman was this? Not another mousy puppet, that was for sure. She deftly asserted many things with the comment—that she outranked Dyon, that she herself would not tolerate such comments, that perhaps someday this would be her land, and that he should be prepared for potential future consequences. Much as he admired her deftness, he couldn’t say he liked the comment. Lord Dyon, while inappropriate, frustrating, and downright maddening at times, had the interests of the kingdom at heart every time he chided Aven like a curmudgeonly, uninvited tutor. Besides, he would rather have naysayers that were looking out for what was best for Akaria than only advisors who would agree with him.
Aven broke the awkward silence that followed with his footsteps, presenting first his mother and then the new princess with roses and a quick bow for each of them.
Well, there was one very unlikely way a mage could be freed… but if she succeeded in this mission, they would put an end to that as well.
“It is a shame to lose a good spy in the process,” he said, trying to extend a peace offering.
She sighed. “Indeed. Especially after the loss of Dekana.” She eyed him sideways.
“That was an accident,” he said through gritted teeth. “They can’t kill themselves. We’ve forbidden it.”
Her eyes bored into him. “Believe what you will. She was alone in that tower.”
“There is no way to know—”
“Their minds and their actions might be ours, but don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re more powerful than you are. Their hearts are their own. I know you are not so thick that you can’t see their hatred. If this one you’ve sent even survives, you’ll see. The same hate grows in her that blossomed in Dekana.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You might not believe it, but heart and mind are not wholly separate entities. If we push her too far, she will be of less use to us. That spy’s mind will become less effective, no matter how much we bid her to do our will. We could push her. We could also break her.”
“I thought you were convinced this was a suicide mission.”
“It is. But on the off chance that she succeeds…”
“Then she will have gained invaluable experience, and we will have a chance to eradicate any last shred of the forbidden magic.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s been ninety years. Thousands of mages were killed after the Dark Days, and the rest hid and cowered in fear. The practice of magic in Akaria is nonexistent. Anyone who knew it is long dead in a lonely cave somewhere.”
“If you were an Akarian with the knowledge to undo everything we’ve built here in Mage Hall, what would you do? Would you let it die? Would you just forget about it?”
She pressed her lips together but said nothing.
“Seulka, all of our power comes from one source—them.” He pointed toward the courtyard. “And there’s one thing—and only one thing—that could ever undo that power.”
“The star magic.” She cast her eyes to the floor, avoiding him.
“Indeed.” He crossed his arms and glared. She was another fool who hoped that someone else would handle her problems, who dreamed they would just magically fade away.
Well, the world didn’t work that way. Luckily for Seulka and the king, Daes would rather get a jump on his problems with a knife to the ribs.
And that was exactly what he was going to do.
Aven strolled in a side door without pomp or circumstance, and so at first, no one noticed him. His visitor was easily recognizable, though, and his mother had not oversold her or her bow. The foreign princess stood speaking with his father, and even from afar he could admire the determined set of her eyes, the confidence in her shoulders, a certain level of power in her stance. Her black cloak swept out majestically behind her. Beaded strands of the sapphire and gold of Isolte hung from a jeweled headband. Hair of clove and walnut fell straight and smooth, framing her face. The delicately carved dark wood of the bow shimmered gold in the firelight, and an aquamarine-studded leather quiver hung comfortably over her shoulder.
He must have studied her too long, for her eyes darted over and caught on his. His stomach dropped with a sudden rush of fear as she fixed a cold gaze on him for the briefest moment. He had made no special preparations today, he realized—it hadn’t even occurred to him to consider what she would think of him and if he cared to influence such an opinion. Would he be able to impress her? What if she decided she didn’t want him? How often had a single glance made his confidence crumble so? Her eyes darted back to him as she seemed to decide that he was not just another onlooker. Something in her eyes was icy as she examined him, like a hawk eyeing prey.
She was indeed different from the others. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Just as he began to raise his hand and step forward to meet her, a voice interjected. “Late to join us again, as usual, Prince Aven.” Lord Dyon, his favorite critic. Well, if he could say nothing else for the man, he had a certain impeccable timing and a knack for observation. Dyon always seemed to notice when he was conspicuously late—almost always because Aven was trying to stuff his magic back into its stupid little box.
At the thought of it, a tendril of hair fluttered against his forehead. Oh, hell, he couldn’t win. Why did he even try? Oh right—potential persecution, execution, banishment, that sort of thing.
“Pardon my delay, I was kept by pressing affairs of state,” he said once a requisite amount of silence had passed. A subtle tactic his father had taught him to indicate both that the comment was not important enough to be acknowledged and was also frowned upon. Not appropriate in every situation, but certainly in this one.
“No apology is needed,” she said in a confident, solid voice. “I see you keep a more benevolent and open court than my father.”
“And what would make you say that?” Aven’s father asked, smiling wryly.
She paused. Hesitation? No, her eyes were sure. Her own subtle technique, no doubt. With amused eyes, she flicked her gaze from the king to Aven, then looked straight at Lord Dyon when she said, “In my land, such a comment would not be tolerated.”
Well, my, my! What kind of woman was this? Not another mousy puppet, that was for sure. She deftly asserted many things with the comment—that she outranked Dyon, that she herself would not tolerate such comments, that perhaps someday this would be her land, and that he should be prepared for potential future consequences. Much as he admired her deftness, he couldn’t say he liked the comment. Lord Dyon, while inappropriate, frustrating, and downright maddening at times, had the interests of the kingdom at heart every time he chided Aven like a curmudgeonly, uninvited tutor. Besides, he would rather have naysayers that were looking out for what was best for Akaria than only advisors who would agree with him.
Aven broke the awkward silence that followed with his footsteps, presenting first his mother and then the new princess with roses and a quick bow for each of them.
