The Royal Wizard (15 page)

Oh, but she’d taught him well. Magic was little more than will and determination. He had an endless supply of both where she was concerned. Saeran closed his eyes and listened to the ward humming its own melody. There was a pattern to it, and if he could disrupt it, he knew he could get through. He hummed until he matched the tone and felt it shiver beneath his touch. Smiling a little, he altered the tune and the wall rippled, weakening.

He pushed a hand through, ready to pass completely, but then something changed. The wall bowed inward and solidified again, shoving him away as it flexed back to its original shape. Saeran slammed his fist into it in frustration. “Nia, let me through. Please.”

“If there is anything you require of me you have only to say so,” she said without looking at him.

“I want you,” he said. The caravan had stopped for the night. They had at least a day before the Aegiran princess arrived. He could marry Nia before then and break the arrangement with Aegiros. It would mean war, but he had fought against them before. He knew their weaknesses and no matter how many Aegiran soldiers marched into Wilderheim, with Nia at his side they could beat them back.

Her quill disappeared from her hand and she blew lightly on the scroll to dry the ink. “No, that will not be possible.” She rolled up the parchment and carefully tied it off with a black ribbon.

Saeran shuddered. Nia had taught him the code for the library. The ribbon on each tome and scroll indicated the potency of what it held. Blue and green were constructive spells, descriptions of herbs and healing incantations, spells to mend what was broken. Red were battle spells for war and defense. Black was reserved for the deadliest, most dangerous of spells, the ones that meddled with dark forces and could destroy a target as easily as the wizard herself. In all the months he’d known Nia, she had never even touched a black-bound scroll.

“I love you,” he said to her back as she placed the scroll back in its place.

“You are under a spell,” she replied. “It will fade in time. I told you Beltaine affected everyone this way. You did not listen.”

“Beltaine was one night, Nia. What I feel for you goes back a lot farther than that.”

She sighed with impatience. “I do not have time for this. If I don’t transcribe these scrolls the spells will fade forever. The Others have been roaming Wilderheim since the day I was presented. They have been meddling with everyone, not just you. Believe me when I say they will get bored sooner or later and this will pass. Now please leave me to my work.”

Saeran drew back. “Then you don’t—”

“Love you? I am your wizard. I cannot love you.”

“No, I will not believe that.” He’d felt her soul Beltaine night; part of it was still with him as part of his had to be with her. Everything she was saying felt wrong. This wall between them, her distance, the dispassionate tone she spoke with, it all reeked of deception.

A heavy black-bound tome thudded to the table. “You try my patience, Saeran. Why do you think you latched on to me? What possible reason could there be for a king to fall in love with his wizard?”

“You are—”

“I am not for you,” she said. “Don't you see? It's a jest. This is what they do to amuse themselves; play with people’s emotions and watch them implode. What better entertainment could there be than a handsome, powerful young king yearning for the one woman he can never have?”

“Stop it! If I have done something, hurt you in some way, tell me. Let me make amends, but don't push me away. This is not you.”

“Oh, but it is,” she countered, pulling on the ends of the black ribbon to untie it. “You just refused to see it. Well, I am done hiding. Take a good look, Majesty. This is the wizard you chose to stand by your side.”

“You are trying to provoke me,” he said to himself as much as her. It was working. Anger boiled low in his gut, a hot swirl of it pulling him in. He resisted, holding on to what they had because whether Nia admitted it or not, it was real.

“I am trying to make you leave! Why are you still here? There is nothing here for you.”

Saeran slammed his hands on the ward. He knew he couldn’t beat his way through, but what else could he do? Give up? Never. Changing tactics, he stepped back, let his hands drop to his sides. “We were friends. Was that a spell too?”

“Yes,” she said. But she’d hesitated.

It was enough to bring Saeran to the wall again. “Nia, please let me through.”

Her expression shuttered and he lost hope. “I have work to do and so do you. We crossed the line. It was a mistake, and I will not be making it a second time. Besides, I quite like that dark haired soldier Geir. I don’t plan to take up with a man anytime soon, but when I do, it will probably be him.”

Saeran’s anger burned hotter. “Then he is a dead man.”

Nia raised her head again, her eyes shining with fury. “You will not touch him,” she said and he felt the charm slither into his core, commanding his action.

He struck the ward with all his might. “Why do you insist on making me hate you!”

“Leave!”

“I will not!” he roared back.

Nia opened the tome and a low rumble started beneath his feet, spreading outward until the walls shuddered and squealed. Rubble rained down on him and Saeran backed away from the ward, staring at Nia in astonishment.

“You will,” she warned, her eyes pale like glacier ice. “Or I will bring the castle down around your ears.”

For the first time Saeran saw the true extent of her magic and felt cold beneath her stare. He believed Nia would do as she threatened without hesitation. She might come to regret it, but by then it would be too late. Saeran couldn’t reconcile this version of her with the lover he’d held in his arms all through Beltaine night, thanking the gods for bringing her to him. This Nia was a stranger, cold, unfeeling, and dangerous.

Seeing him hesitate, she lowered her gaze to the tome and murmured strange words that chilled Saeran to his soul.

“Stop,” he said, disappointment numbing the raw ache in his heart.

Nia looked up and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I am done with you.” The words sounded hollow, fitting, coming from the empty shell he'd suddenly become. Saeran dropped his gaze to escape the sight of her with that cursed tome and made himself turn away.

The ground shivered beneath his step, the disturbance following him across the chamber. Nia waited for Saeran to walk out the door and close it carefully behind him. She counted his footsteps up the staircase until he was out in the courtyard and away from her door. Only then did she release the earth to settle. She pushed to her feet and had to grab hold of a bookcase to stay on them. Her legs had cramped hiding there and her knees felt weak. When she made it out of the library, she regarded her doppelganger and shuddered at the ice spreading through her eyes.

Her, but for the kindness of an old wizard.

Nia raised a hand to dismantle the illusion and was shocked to see how badly it shook. Turning it over, she gazed at the lines in the palm of her hand. There lay the destiny she had never been able to decipher, glowing as if to remind her there were things she could never avoid, no matter how hard she tried. It didn’t matter which paths she took when all of them eventually led to the same place. She’d chosen poorly and caused unnecessary pain to Saeran as well as herself. And now here she stood, the same way she would have stood regardless of what she’d done or not done. Alone.

Nia closed her eyes and took a measured breath. When she opened them again, she moved quickly to touch the doppelganger illusion and watched herself fall apart, cracking into thousands of thousands of pieces which fell and scattered all over the floor. Like ice, the pieces melted into the ground, leaving no trace of their presence behind. The room warmed by slow degrees but Nia didn’t feel it. She picked up the tome and the ribbon which bound it. In her hands, the length of silk faded to blue and she carefully retied it around the tome and carried it back to its resting place in the library.

For once, the walls of her study were silent.

She was glad. 

CHAPTER 15

“They have progressed,” Sir Frederick noted, watching the two young knights battling with wooden swords. There was pride in his voice and a little sadness as well. Their youth reminded him of his own age. “Their skill grows daily.”

Arnaud glanced at them briefly before returning his gaze to the forest line. The treasure lay that way, and he was as eager to continue on their journey, as he was reluctant. “Alec still needs to gain more courage and Jonah’s footing is wrong. Practice will correct that. Let us pray it will not be needed.”

“If it is,” Lucca said, “they will do what needs be done.” He was carving something out of a piece of wood again, his own form of worship. Lucca was not like the rest of them. He believed in God, but having lost his wife and three children in a fire, he no longer spoke of Him as the Savior. He never entered hallowed ground and rarely had Arnaud heard him utter a prayer or sing a song. The man often got a look in his eyes that worried Arnaud. It was as if this quest was one of revenge for Lucca, not salvation. What he hoped to find or prove, none of them knew, and he would not say. They’ve all learned it was best not to ask.

The young knights locked their swords and grunted, trying to push each other back. They were covered with dust and Arnaud wondered when he’d last gotten as dirty in practice. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d been forced to draw his sword. Perhaps it was the long journey that had dulled the memory of past battles. Or perhaps it was this place. He could feel something here with every step he took. Magic or the Divine, he could not tell, but he hoped it was the latter. This far north, perhaps they were closer to God than they had thought.

Perhaps it would help Lucca find his way back into His grace.

“Come, then,” Frederick said, pushing to his feet. “Enough, you two. The king has commanded our audience today. Set yourselves to rights.”

Arnaud stood. “Today?”

“That is what I said, boy. The king is as good as his word. Beltaine has passed. We are to be on our way soon.”

“Beltaine was three days ago,” he argued. “Surely the festivities take longer than this.”

Frederick stopped and turned to him, his faded eyes narrowed. “The day we came here you urged me to ride through. You said you would as soon bed down with the Devil than share a meal with these heathens. What’s changed?”

“A certain fair haired witch caught his eye, isn’t that right, Saint Arnaud?” Lucca mocked, as he had since the night Arnaud had spent chasing after her. Days later his face still turned ruddy to recall it. There had to be magic in this land to make him lose his head like that.

Arnaud shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Nothing has changed,” he said, not believing himself. “I only worry about the sort of guide his Majesty will deem to give us. Last night all of Frastmir was drunker than sailors in port. What good will they be today?”

Frederick shrugged with uncharacteristic nonchalance. “It is not for us to decide. I am certain the king will choose well.”

Lucca grunted. “You did not have so much faith in his judgment a few days ago. The witch must have spelled you both.”

Frederick glared at him but said, “Mayhap.” Was he beginning to doubt his own vision? “Or mayhap God has chosen to answer my prayers and take away my doubt.”

“What about…” Arnaud began, afraid to finish. It needed to be said. He tried again. “What about last night?”

The old man’s composure faltered, and even Lucca shifted uneasily. “Saints, I thought I dreamt it.”

“The whole castle shook, Frederick. Are you not curious why?”

“No,” he answered, turning his back on Arnaud. His gait was slow and uneven. His knees always gave him trouble if he sat still too long.

“Cheer up, man,” Jonah said with a grin, slapping Arnaud on the back and urging him to follow Frederick. “Soon the dust of this cursed odd place will be behind us, and you will need not think on it more.”

Arnaud whistled to Alec and went inside. Thinking was all he seemed to be doing of late. It didn’t sit well with a simple knight. All kinds of new ideas now distracted him from his devotion to God and his mission, and though he knew it to be wrong, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering where it ought not go.

* * *

For the second time, the knights knelt before the dais in the great hall. Their eyes no longer downcast, they waited for King Saeran to make his decree.

Nia walked toward the dais with her head high, ignoring the Others who filled the great hall instead of Saeran’s court. They always gathered when there was a spectacle to be seen and Nia was beginning to resent it. She didn’t spare Saeran a glance when she ascended the steps to take her place, and he didn’t seem to care. It was just as well.

“My lady,” one of the knights said to her, and she looked at him in surprise. Arnaud was his name. “Is aught amiss?” he asked.

It was a question she would have expected from Saeran. But not today.

“You will address me when you speak,” Saeran said before she could answer the knight.

Startled, Arnaud bowed his head. “My apologies, your Majesty.”

“I have summoned you here to grant you passage through my lands.”

Nia straightened as the earth whispered to her of a nearing caravan. “Riders approach,” she said to Saeran, but he ignored her.

“And because certain duties are about to render me beyond reach, I do this now, whilst I still can.”

Nia frowned. The earth spoke to her of exotic places of sun and sand, where water was scarce and strange animals roamed. It sang songs so strange to Nia’s ears, yet the melody was as beautiful as a thousand songbirds taking flight.

Aegiros. Nia bit her tongue to distract herself from the arrows of pain stabbing at her heart. Saeran’s intended bride was coming to claim her crown.

“Wizard,” Saeran called, as if she was standing on the other side of the great hall, instead of right next to his throne. “Stand by these knights and face me.”