Rangar returned her nod. “Aunt. We received your letter about Father’s health and came at once. Valenden was wounded on the journey and needs your attention. Furthermore, I would like to see my father immediately.”
Mage Marna signaled to two of the soldiers, who went to the carriage to help Valenden. He was groggy and weak, and they ended up fashioning a stretcher out of a blanket and two poles.
Mage Marna did a quick inspection of Valenden, frowning at his wounds. “Take him to Ren in the mage quarters. Tell Ren to prepare a draught of yarrowberry juice. I’ll be up shortly.”
As they carted Valenden off, Mage Marna turned back to Rangar with a deep line carved between her brows.
“Aunt, if I may—” he started.
She cut him off. “We’ve decided to put you under house arrest, Rangar.”
“We?” he said tensely. “Did my father also agree to this?”
“Idecided it,” she corrected herself. “Aleth has been unconscious for the last two days. Trei’s murder case has yet to be solved. We received the information about Broderick but have been unable to locate him. It provides enough doubt to keep you out of the dungeon, but for the time being, I cannot allow you to move freely about Barendur Hold. You’ll be restricted to the third-floor suite.”
Rangar’s jaw clenched but he didn’t argue. All in all, Bryn didn’t think the mage’s decision was unreasonable. Though it wasn’t absolving Rangar, nor was it locking him back in the dungeon.
“I need to see my father,” he insisted. “He isn’t on the third floor.”
Mage Marna’s stern expression eased. “Yes, you may see him first. Guards, let Prince Rangar through to see the king, then lock him in the suite.”
Rangar took Bryn’s hand and started to move toward the draw bridge, but Mage Marna held out a hand. “Wait. You go on, Rangar. Let me speak with Bryn alone.”
Rangar hesitated, but Bryn squeezed his hand. “It’s fine. Go see your father. I’ll be right behind you.” Two guards followed Rangar as he disappeared into the great hall.
Alone on the drawbridge, Mage Marna gave Bryn a searching look. “You must not interfere with our way of justice,” she warned. “We will free Rangar only when there is clear evidence of his innocence. You may visit him in his arrest and stay with him in the third-floor chamber, if you wish.”
“I understand. I promise to abide by your decision.” She rubbed the bandage on her arm. “There’s something more you should know.”
Bryn informed Mage Marna about the wolf attack and showed her the remaining carcass. Mage Marna ordered it taken to the mage quarters so she could study it, while also watching Valenden carefully for any sign of sickness.
“There’s more,” Bryn informed her. “On the road, we heard stirrings that villagers are blaming a dark mage for the wolf attacks. They believe nefarious magic has created some kind of monsters.”
“Berserkir wolves,” Mage Marna muttered. “Like the old fable.” Bryn nodded. Mage Marna looked deeply troubled by this, but she was distracted by Bryn’s bandage. In a more gentle tone, she said, “Shall I heal that for you?”
She reached for Bryn’s hand, but Bryn held it back. Mage Marna looked confused until Bryn said, “Thank you, but to be honest, I’d rather heal it myself.”
Understanding crossed the mage’s face. She nodded, approving of Bryn’s interest. “So, you still want to apprentice under me?”
“I do.”
“We will discuss this more at length, you and me. With Aleth’s health in jeopardy, my attention must be on him for the time being.” She gave Bryn another approving look. “But I shall keep your interest in mind.”
She stepped aside to allow Bryn to cross the drawbridge. As Bryn swept into the great hall, memories rushed back to her. Straw covered the floor as usual, and a few lambs were still curled by the hearth, not yet chased out to pasture by the shepherdess. She recognized her wayward troublemaker lamb among the flock and fought the urge to squeeze him up in a hug—she had more pressing matters.
As she climbed the stairs, she mulled the fact that this wasn’t the triumphant return she’d imagined. Rangar was under house arrest, King Aleth was at death’s door, Valenden was wounded, and there was the mystery of the berserkir wolves, too . . .
She made her way to the mage chambers, where they had sequestered King Aleth in the largest bedroom. She paused at the door, overwhelmed by the shadow of death that clung to the walls. The king lay in a wooden bed raised off the ground, buried in blankets that clung to his much-diminished shape.
Rangar sat at his father’s side, holding his pale hand.
Bryn stepped into the room cautiously. Her lips parted in shock. “Is he . . .”
“He’s asleep.” Rangar’s voice was gruff. “Ren says he hasn’t woken in days.”
Bryn sank next to Rangar on the bed. “What ails him?”
“The wasting disease,” Rangar said quietly.
