Mage Slave
Page 67
“I know that, Miara,” he whispered, using her real name for the first time. His rough voice and the sound of her name on his lips sent an unexpected thrill through her. “And if I could have my way, I would have you come with me.”
She felt herself blush. “Ah, but what use are these idle wishes? They cannot be. What can we say about a world like this, a world where people like the Masters can control people like us? How can there be a Balance or a Way when there are moments like this? If I had died on this journey, or if you had run away, then I could have died knowing that the world was just. But as it is, my heart breaks to see them win.”
“Don’t lose faith,” he whispered.
She nodded. She was not about to argue. And she wanted desperately to believe him.
“I have something to give you,” he said now. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I think I would rather have it in your hands than theirs.”
“What is it?” She wanted to open it, but it might not be safe. She slipped it into her pocket without a glance. The Masters hadn’t said anything about possessions or owning folded pieces of paper, so it should be safe with her for now. She would hide the paper as long as she was able.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “A map of the stars, I think. Just promise me you’ll look at it and remember all this.”
She nodded solemnly. “Of course.” They said nothing for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes.
Should she tell him? Should she confess how much she really loved him—the honor she felt when his eyes rested on her with that look in them, the desire she felt when she saw him move or laugh, the way she looked at him when she knew he wasn’t looking? Would it make it easier for him—or harder?
Certainly, he had a right to know, but—
A shout rang out from behind her. “Miara! Don’t hog all the glory for yourself! Wait for me!”
Sorin. He was scratched and scraped but largely fine. He strode toward them.
No time to tell him now. She sighed.
She turned back to Aven. “Just one more thing. I am so sorry,” she said.
“I’m not,” he replied. “For any of it.”
Daes’s ears perked up at the first sound of bells clanging during their midday lunch. None of the others seemed to notice, all too intent on the hearty potatoes and roast rabbit. All four Masters were convened for one of the elaborate midday banquets Seulka insisted on orchestrating. It gave her some joy to have a household to preside over, but he was also quite sure that she simply enjoyed having something to order the slaves to do.
Sounds of shouting by the east gate reached them on the wind, finally stirring his companions. Daes rose and strode to the window, unwilling to hope just yet. Could it be? Could she have actually succeeded?
Indeed. Three horses stood at the south gate, and mages were swarming around them as if something very out of the ordinary had occurred. To underscore this, unnaturally low clouds dotted around them, fog-like, but flashing with snaps of lightning swirling around their length.
He sat back down. It wouldn’t be long now if it were the mage slave and the prince. The compulsion in her must be strong by now, so close to her goal. She would not dally.
“What is it?” the Fat Master asked into the expectant silence.
Daes smiled wryly—the others were all eyeing him. “Three horses have arrived at the east gate,” he said casually.
Seulka glared at him. “Why must you always be so opaque?” She paused, but he would offer no more explanation.
“Is it her?” the Tall Master demanded.
He shrugged, smiling. “I’m sure we shall see any moment now.”
Just as a roast boar was being added to the feast, the hall doors thundered open.
And there they were. His fiery, rebellious creature mage, the air mage, and another, presumably the prince. He met the description—light haired, green eyed, the muscular build of a seasoned soldier.
“I see you have returned,” Seulka said smoothly, probably delighted to have this to preside over on top of her unnecessary dining affair. “And not without gifts. Tell me what has transpired.” Her voice was smooth and authoritative when it came to commands, one of the few things he enjoyed about her.
The air mage spoke first. “I found Miara not far into Akaria and was able to be of service on the perilous journey back.”
Daes wanted to roll his eyes, and he heard the Tall Master cover a laugh with a cough. Yes, he had a few scuffs, but he was far too proud of them. Not as a true warrior would be, one who’d seen a thousand scratches in his day, as Daes once had.
As his eyes turned to the woman, the rebellious one, he missed those days a little. Or perhaps envied her just the slightest for the power, the experience she had gained. Bragging rights she would not use. Her eyes were bright with a fire he recognized, dormant too long in himself—the fire of battle. Not long now, though, and he would get to stretch his legs again. Wounds on each of her shoulders oozed blood that had begun to drip strikingly down the front of her black tunic and leathers. Bandages on her arm were beginning to bleed through. Fresh claw marks on her cheek gave her a raw, savage beauty soaring beyond what she’d already possessed. He had to admit that it appealed to the fighter in him.
When she spoke, her voice was strange. Different than before. “I present to you, milady, Aven Lanuken, Prince of Akaria. As you asked, and before the turning of the moon, I might add.”
He smiled. She hadn’t missed that they had sent help before they’d said they would.
Daes eyed her as Seulka left her seat and marched around the banquet tables to get a closer look at the prince. She turned to Daes. “How can we be sure this is him? He looks like I’ve seen in portraits, but—”
“Well, aren’t we fortunate to have a friend to identify him?” Daes turned to one of the guards. “Fetch the knight.”
Seulka turned to the creature mage again. “How did you identify him?”
“He gave me his name before he knew my purpose,” she said. “And he was dressed more finely then.”
Interesting. A foolish mistake, but beauty did have a way of getting men to talk.
The Mistress nodded and looked at the young man once more up close. He eyed her back with a level, searching stare, fiery, but biding his time. He had the assurance and confidence of royalty, that was for sure—a distinct air of aloofness and superiority that was hard to fake. Daes had no doubt it was the prince, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure.
She felt herself blush. “Ah, but what use are these idle wishes? They cannot be. What can we say about a world like this, a world where people like the Masters can control people like us? How can there be a Balance or a Way when there are moments like this? If I had died on this journey, or if you had run away, then I could have died knowing that the world was just. But as it is, my heart breaks to see them win.”
“Don’t lose faith,” he whispered.
She nodded. She was not about to argue. And she wanted desperately to believe him.
“I have something to give you,” he said now. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I think I would rather have it in your hands than theirs.”
“What is it?” She wanted to open it, but it might not be safe. She slipped it into her pocket without a glance. The Masters hadn’t said anything about possessions or owning folded pieces of paper, so it should be safe with her for now. She would hide the paper as long as she was able.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “A map of the stars, I think. Just promise me you’ll look at it and remember all this.”
She nodded solemnly. “Of course.” They said nothing for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes.
Should she tell him? Should she confess how much she really loved him—the honor she felt when his eyes rested on her with that look in them, the desire she felt when she saw him move or laugh, the way she looked at him when she knew he wasn’t looking? Would it make it easier for him—or harder?
Certainly, he had a right to know, but—
A shout rang out from behind her. “Miara! Don’t hog all the glory for yourself! Wait for me!”
Sorin. He was scratched and scraped but largely fine. He strode toward them.
No time to tell him now. She sighed.
She turned back to Aven. “Just one more thing. I am so sorry,” she said.
“I’m not,” he replied. “For any of it.”
Daes’s ears perked up at the first sound of bells clanging during their midday lunch. None of the others seemed to notice, all too intent on the hearty potatoes and roast rabbit. All four Masters were convened for one of the elaborate midday banquets Seulka insisted on orchestrating. It gave her some joy to have a household to preside over, but he was also quite sure that she simply enjoyed having something to order the slaves to do.
Sounds of shouting by the east gate reached them on the wind, finally stirring his companions. Daes rose and strode to the window, unwilling to hope just yet. Could it be? Could she have actually succeeded?
Indeed. Three horses stood at the south gate, and mages were swarming around them as if something very out of the ordinary had occurred. To underscore this, unnaturally low clouds dotted around them, fog-like, but flashing with snaps of lightning swirling around their length.
He sat back down. It wouldn’t be long now if it were the mage slave and the prince. The compulsion in her must be strong by now, so close to her goal. She would not dally.
“What is it?” the Fat Master asked into the expectant silence.
Daes smiled wryly—the others were all eyeing him. “Three horses have arrived at the east gate,” he said casually.
Seulka glared at him. “Why must you always be so opaque?” She paused, but he would offer no more explanation.
“Is it her?” the Tall Master demanded.
He shrugged, smiling. “I’m sure we shall see any moment now.”
Just as a roast boar was being added to the feast, the hall doors thundered open.
And there they were. His fiery, rebellious creature mage, the air mage, and another, presumably the prince. He met the description—light haired, green eyed, the muscular build of a seasoned soldier.
“I see you have returned,” Seulka said smoothly, probably delighted to have this to preside over on top of her unnecessary dining affair. “And not without gifts. Tell me what has transpired.” Her voice was smooth and authoritative when it came to commands, one of the few things he enjoyed about her.
The air mage spoke first. “I found Miara not far into Akaria and was able to be of service on the perilous journey back.”
Daes wanted to roll his eyes, and he heard the Tall Master cover a laugh with a cough. Yes, he had a few scuffs, but he was far too proud of them. Not as a true warrior would be, one who’d seen a thousand scratches in his day, as Daes once had.
As his eyes turned to the woman, the rebellious one, he missed those days a little. Or perhaps envied her just the slightest for the power, the experience she had gained. Bragging rights she would not use. Her eyes were bright with a fire he recognized, dormant too long in himself—the fire of battle. Not long now, though, and he would get to stretch his legs again. Wounds on each of her shoulders oozed blood that had begun to drip strikingly down the front of her black tunic and leathers. Bandages on her arm were beginning to bleed through. Fresh claw marks on her cheek gave her a raw, savage beauty soaring beyond what she’d already possessed. He had to admit that it appealed to the fighter in him.
When she spoke, her voice was strange. Different than before. “I present to you, milady, Aven Lanuken, Prince of Akaria. As you asked, and before the turning of the moon, I might add.”
He smiled. She hadn’t missed that they had sent help before they’d said they would.
Daes eyed her as Seulka left her seat and marched around the banquet tables to get a closer look at the prince. She turned to Daes. “How can we be sure this is him? He looks like I’ve seen in portraits, but—”
“Well, aren’t we fortunate to have a friend to identify him?” Daes turned to one of the guards. “Fetch the knight.”
Seulka turned to the creature mage again. “How did you identify him?”
“He gave me his name before he knew my purpose,” she said. “And he was dressed more finely then.”
Interesting. A foolish mistake, but beauty did have a way of getting men to talk.
The Mistress nodded and looked at the young man once more up close. He eyed her back with a level, searching stare, fiery, but biding his time. He had the assurance and confidence of royalty, that was for sure—a distinct air of aloofness and superiority that was hard to fake. Daes had no doubt it was the prince, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure.
