“Get up, it’s time.”
The bleary-eyed mayor rose from his uncomfortable crouch on the floor and watched as Varren passed his hands across his manacles, breaking them open with a spark. Challan nursed his wrists and shuffled cautiously toward the cell door, as though expecting Varren to attack.
“We don’t have all day,” Varren muttered, pushing his fingers into the man’s spine. “Move! And don’t forget what you promised.”
It was near dawn and, despite the serenity of Ammentide, Varren felt agitated. King Samian had urged him to finish his business with Challan and deliver him to Te’Roek and to Queen Sorcha’s judgment.
“Write her a letter to accompany his safe return,” the king had advised. “Let her know that, should she neglect her duties, you will take matters into your own hands. You have my full support in whatever manner of discipline you find necessary. I don’t want Challan to escape justice.”
“You have my word that he will not,” Varren had assured him.
Once Mayor Challan was out of his cell, the Ayon sorcerer turned to face him. He looked a mess. His once perfectly trimmed hair was scraggy and reminded Varren of the fur of a wet dog. His face was caked with sweat and dust from the cell floor where Challan had been sleeping and graying stubble covered his jaw and upper lip. His eyes were wide with fright and deep shadows rimmed his lids. The heavy perfume that had clung to him upon his arrival was no longer present, having been replaced with the stench of old sweat, stale urine and damp stone.
“Follow my instructions,” Varren said, “and you have my word that I will not harm you. Divert from our plans even by an inch and I will end your life in a fraction of a breath. Do not mention that I am with you. Do not attempt to alert the queen to my presence. Are we clear?”
“Very.”
*
Standing invisibly before the great gates of Te’Roek castle a short while later, Varren recalled his last visit. On that occasion, he had killed the guards and door wardens for a challenge, but he would not do so this time. Mayor Briel Challan was still looking a little queasy from his unnatural journey from Manthis. Varren had deposited them in an alcove beneath the raised forecourt in front of the castle gates, and had followed as Challan climbed the stairs slowly and unsteadily. Varren watched him closely as they crossed the forecourt, ready to silence him should he try to cry out. The guards recognized him instantly and were looking anxiously at each other, noticing the man’s state.
“Do what I told you,” Varren whispered in Challan’s ear, “and remember, I can see everything but cannot be seen.” And, in truth, his invisibility charm was stronger than he had ever made it. It would have to be if Challan faced the queen with Emil Latrett, Markus Taal or Kayte Heron by her side.
“My lord mayor!” one of the guards said, moving forward, neglecting his post. “We heard you had – Forgive me, do you need our assistance?”
“Get rid of them,” Varren whispered harshly.
“No! No, I know my way perfectly,” Challan said, his voice shaking. “I must see the queen directly.”
They passed through the gates and approached the nearest staircase. Varren had never been this far into the castle and looked eagerly about him, taking in every detail. He had little doubt he would return one day. He noticed Challan looking uneasily over his shoulder and smirked. He moved forward and grabbed the mayor’s round face in his hand, producing a quiet yelp.
“I am still here,” he said quietly. “Don’t forget it.”
He released the mayor with a jerk and followed him in silence, stepping as lightly as he could upon the stairs as they climbed to the floor above. The open corridor that looked down into the courtyard was of a style he had never encountered before in all his travels. The structure was so open and trusting. If not for the enchantments woven into the stones, protecting the walls from any kind of magical attack, it would be less like a fortress than a public forum. However, even the strongest spells could not guard the air, as Vrór had proven when he had flown over the walls into the castle courtyard.
Challan paused outside one room, shook his head absently and then moved on to the next. Varren wondered whether the action had been of any significance. He frowned and continued after the man, who had now stopped in front of another door. Challan took in a deep breath, then knocked.
The door opened almost instantly to reveal the tall figure of Markus Taal. Only a second passed before the mage recognized the mayor and uttered a surprised cry. “By the Spirits!” He staggering forward and grasped the man’s hand. “Briel! You’re alive! Come in and sit down at once!”
Varren slipped in through the door as Markus closed it and watched the man’s face closely to see whether the wizard detected his presence. He thought he saw an inkling of distraction on the man’s face but was not convinced of it.
“Briel!” the queen cried, standing up from her chair at the head of a long table. “You look terrible.”
“I feel it, Your Majesty,” the mayor said, sweeping down on one knee and bowing his head. “I fear this will not be a pleasant meeting.”
“Oh?”
“Please sit down, Your Majesty, and you too, Lord Taal. I…” He glanced at the door, not realizing that Varren was standing right beside him. “I have some grave news for you.”
“What is it, Briel?”
The queen returned to her chair and sat anxiously, her eyes expectant. Challan stood uncomfortably as Markus moved to stand beside her, his brow etched with a frown. The mayor glanced once more at the door. Varren came up close to him and pressed his fingers into the fat of his arm. Challan visibly flinched but then cleared his throat and began.
He told the queen everything. He did not look at her but kept his eyes firmly on his ruined slippers. When he paused, Varren pressed his fingers into his arm once more. It took ten minutes or more for him to tell his story in detail, leaving out nothing, not even the state of the Ammentide cells. He related everything that had happened, apart from Varren himself being there in the room.
The queen looked horrified. When he had finished, she shakily rose to her feet, her hands clenched, and stormed across the room. She slapped him hard across the face and he crumbled before her, whimpering and cowering.
“How dare you!” she shrieked, her face growing red. “I told you not to do anything and you deliberately betrayed me! Do you realize what you have done?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, and I humbly beg forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” the queen exclaimed. “Forgiveness? Now Varren knows for certain you were involved, the Ayon Empire will launch a full-scale assault! By the Spirits…How can I ever forgive you for this? Markus – ”
“Yes, Your Majesty?” the wizard asked, hurrying to her side.
“Summon the guards and take this man to the cells.”
“No, please, my lady!” Challan cried, pressing his hands together and dropping to both knees. “Please reconsider!”
The queen regarded him through narrowed eyes. “When I give an order, Briel, I expect it to be obeyed.” She thrust out her hand with her forefinger raised, the huge sapphire ring twinkling in the light from the midday sun streaming in the south-facing windows. “Am I or am I not the queen?”
“Yes, you are, my lady!”
“And am I or am I not the one authority in this empire?”
“Yes!”
“Then what in the world made you think you could get away with this? After the Ayons’ defeat at the Divide, they are even more willing to destroy us! I need not tell you that their numbers greatly dwarf our own. Even with support from the Tareks, we cannot possibly stand up against their armies, and they grow every day. I cannot afford to have men like you taking this war into their own hands! Markus, you know how to obey my orders. Take him out of my sight!”
As the wizard opened the door to fetch the guards, Varren slipped out after him and made his way to a secluded part of the corridor. He felt the folded letter in his pocket, the one he had written in the event Queen Sorcha had decided to let Challan go unpunished. He pressed his hand against it and smiled. The queen was a far more sensible woman than he had anticipated. The letter was not needed.
Seeing and hearing nothing, he summoned his gift and transported himself back to Delseroy, his grin not leaving his face until he entered the castle grounds. It was at this point he remembered that the king was engaged to Angora.
*
Varren clenched his teeth and tried not to lose his temper. The days before the wedding were flying by alarmingly quickly. Two whole weeks had passed since the girl had arrived, two whole weeks in which he had been unsuccessful in persuading his master that marrying her was not a good idea.
“I don’t like it.”
“Yes, Archis, you have made this perfectly clear to me already.”
The king of the Ayons sat back in his chair and sighed. Varren shook his head in frustration. Samian just would not listen. Did he not realize what he was doing? The fact that the king was not even considering Varren’s argument concerned him. It was not just anxiety for his master’s safety but for his campaign and the whole of the empire if anything went wrong. He had been preparing for a great assault ever since taking up the position of general; months of discussing, forging political and military alliances, recruiting, and organizing – everything could be destroyed if King Samian let his guard down now.
Of course, there was Prince Nildemar if the situation became dire, but the boy had only just reached his teens; he could not rule an empire, especially without the necessary years of teaching and guidance. And with Samian arguably fit enough to retain the crown, a regency was out of the question.
“A Teronian!” Varren exclaimed. “And what’s worse – she’s been influenced by the Ronnesians! And don’t forget what she is, sir. Can we really have two leikas in the same castle? They will be constantly at each other’s throats! Please reconsider. Think of what you’re doing.”
“I’ve thought about this for years, Archis, don’t try to dissuade me. I love her and I won’t let her go, not again.”
Varren rolled his eyes. “There are other ways to cure this sort of lust, sir. I’m sure half the men at court could tell you where the best brothels and whores – ”
“It’s not lust!” Samian said angrily. “I’m the perfect age to marry and if I find someone who I think is suitable – ”
“But she is not suitable!”
“You know her history as well as I. She’s no more a Ronnesian than either of us! She was forced into their service. Angora is not one of them. How can you deny her meaning in ripping up her oath in front of Queen Sorcha and spelling both Latrett and that Auran to get away from them?” Samian stood and began to pace the room. “You’ve seen her, Archis, you know she doesn’t mean to spy on us or kill me in my sleep.”
“I know nothing of the sort.”
“You will have to come up with a far better argument if you mean to poison her name,” Samian said angrily. “And until that day, she is under the protection of the crown!”
“But what of the lies you’ll have to weave, the promises you’ll have to break when the campaign gets under way?”
“I will break no promises.”
“You’ve let this woman control you!” Varren exclaimed. “Do you suppose she loves you in return? Have you asked her why she accepted you?”
“I know she loved me before and she cares about the islands.”
“Don’t be a fool! You’re trying to hide the truth from yourself. She’ll bring you nothing but ruin.”
“No, Archis,” the king said forcefully. “Have you ever considered that having her here could have its advantages? Think of what we could do with her on our side.”
“Is she likely to turn against those she once served? Galenros has told me that she was almost uncontrollable for months when she joined the Ronnesians. She will be the same with us. She is not the right kind of woman to become your queen.”
“How long have you had Galenros working to blacken her name? Are you all against me?”
“Sire, I want to be sure of your safety, that is my primary concern, as always! You claim to know her, but that was over four years ago, when she was a child, and people can change. There is too much that remains unknown about her character. I must discover all I can before I can trust her at your side and in your bed!”
“She is not an assassin, Archis!”
“She has killed Ayons before! She’s not an innocent girl any more!”
The king sighed angrily and shook his head. “No, she is no longer innocent and the Ronnesians are partly to blame for that. Do you imagine she will easily forget her time as a slave or the treatment she received while being in the Circle? Do you suggest that she looks back on those days with some kind of pleasure? She may well turn against them, Archis! She admitted to me that, despite being one of the queen’s advisers, she was not privy to all matters of state and resented her second-class treatment. To gain her trust, we must be inclusive and honest with her. We must prove to her that we are a kinder and more respectful people, that we do not judge an individual on their circumstances of birth or by events beyond their control. That should not be hard.”
Varren considered the idea and had to admit that it was plausible. If the girl could be turned, they could use her to tip the balance. They would have the upper hand in both military and magical strength. When Vrór went into battle against Queen Sorcha’s servants, Angora would not counter him if she believed the Ronnesians mages were unworthy of her protection. Emil Latrett, Kayte Heron, Markus Taal and Tiderius Auran would be outnumbered and outmatched. He stroked the dark stubble on his chin in contemplation. The idea alone was not enough to convince him she could be trusted. He would have to be certain of her character. He would have to probe very carefully, delve into her mind when she was unaware of his presence, when her barriers were down.
He nodded slowly. The prospect of being able to tip the balance, something that had remained stable since the strands of magic had first been given to mortal hands, was very tempting. He would devise a plan, catch her off her guard and then slip into her mind and discover her true motives. Then he would see whether she could be converted and how easy it would be.
“All right,” he said, meeting Samian’s gaze. “I will give her the chance to prove her character, but you must give me free rein. I will only be satisfied when I have heard her thoughts.”
“Archis, that is my future wife you are talking about!”
“If I can catch her in a moment of anger, she will let her guard down. Then I will get my answers.”
The king frowned.
“I give you my word that I will not hurt her in the process. You know my promises are sound.”
The two locked gazes for a moment, then Samian slowly nodded.
“All right, but if you harm her in any away, Archis…by the gods, you will regret it.”