“Y-yes?”
“You will come to me tonight in Manza’s rooms by the wharf.You may demonstrate any other intriguing tricks he’s taught you.” Gethen smiled for the second time that morning, enjoying the way her flesh, not nearly so pampered and flawless as it had been when he’d first arrived, shuddered at the prospect.
And still she answered dutifully, “Yes, Master Nour.”
Perhaps Kolis hadn’t been quite the softhearted weakling Nour had always considered him when it came to the training ofumagi.
“I look forward to it. Oh, and one last thing...” He bent down beside her and stroked a thumb across the delicate pulse in her throat. His voice dropped to a gentle whisper. “While we are apart today, I want you to find out everything you can about any recent activity near the Garreval. Do not rouse suspicion, but don’t come to me empty-handed either. I’m not a pleasant man when I’m disappointed.”
The choked sob escaped before she could bite her lip to hold it back. Fresh tears spurted from her eyes. The mass of tangled dark brown ringlets bobbed as she gave a jerky nod.
“Excellent. I can see we are going to get along famously.” He rose to his feet and left the room without a backward glance.
In the adjoining room, the maid Fanette, a plump little partridge with cornflower eyes and brown hair wrapped in a tidy plait, sat still as stone in a chair across from Den Brodson. Her hands were clenched so tight in her lap, her knuckles shone white. “Your mistress needs your assistance, girl.”
As the maid rose to her feet, Nour reached into his pocket. When she passed by him, he grabbed her arm and blew a small cloud ofsomuluspowder into her face. Her frightened blue eyes went blank. “You came in this morning to discover that Lady Jiarine has had a run-in with a rather... brutal... nobleman. You know what harm he will cause if rumor of his habits gets out. So you will tend your lady and you will keep silent, for her sake as well as your own. Now go.”
The girl walked with dazed, slow steps into the adjoining bedroom.
“Come, Brodson.” He waved to the butcher’s son. “The day’s half-gone, and we’ve much to do.”
Eld ~ Boura Fell
Elfeya v’En Celay lay upon hersel’dor-laced bed, exhausted and aching and filled with self-loathing after the last several bells she’d spent healing the High Mage of Eld. Hatred was a dark emotion noshei’dalinshould ever clutch to her breast, but over the last thousand years, it had become as much her companion as the constant acid burn of the dread Eld metal against her flesh. Gods forgive her, but she did hate. She hated with every ounce of flesh and every drop of blood in her body.
And if it were not for hershei’tan, Shan, chained in the lower levels of Vadim Maur’s dungeon fortress, she would have done what noshei’dalinever did.
She would have killed.
If not for Shan, she would have twisted hershei’dalinpowers and used them to slay the evil Mage who came to her for healing. And she would have wept with joy as the torment of taking a life struck her dead.
Elfeya flung an arm over her face, covering her eyes as the weak, useless tears trickled from them. There was no sense in weeping. A thousand years of tears—enough to fill an ocean—had not spared her one moment of misery.
«Shei’tani.»Shan’s voice, so beloved, whispered across the threads of their truemate bond. Soothing, comforting, Shan’s consciousness caressed her own with such vibrant richness, she could almost pretend he was there beside her, holding her, making love to her with the wild, sweet, passionate abandon they’d shared in their all too brief bells together.
She wiped the tears from her face, then laughed at the uselessness of the small vanity. He could not see her tears, but he already knew she’d shed them.«I am here, beloved.»
«You are alone?»he asked.
«Never so long as I have you.»A smile trembled on her lips, then fell away.«He was here,»she told him,«but he is gone now. His health is failing.»The truth should have pleased them both, but she could feel Shan’s deep concern, an echo of her own.
«He will be more dangerous now than ever. Desperate men always are.»
«Aiyah. He knows he cannot delay the inevitable much longer.»Time was against Vadim Maur now. He could no longer afford the skillful patience that had been the hallmark of his reign.
«At least our daughter is with the Fey now. They will protect her.»
«As much as they can,»she agreed.
Vadim Maur was too powerful a Mage for Elfeya to rifle through his mind without his notice, but he had come to her many times over the years for healing... and other things. She’d used those occasions to gain what advantage she could, testing his shields, gathering what thoughts he did not consciously guard, and slowly—very, very slowly—burrowing an imperceptible path into the secrets he held locked away in his mind.
She could not pluck thoughts freely from Maur’s mind, but when he was weary and came to her for healing—as he had begun to do with increasing frequency—that tiny thread of Spirit allowed her to influence him slightly, pushing him to relax in her presence just enough that the occasional useful tidbit of information could rise to the surface of his thoughts, where she could draw it unnoticed into her mind for later review.
«You discovered what he is planning?»Shan asked.
Vadim’sumagispies in Celieria had been disappearing by the dozens, rendering him blind and weakening the foothold he’d established in northern Celieria. Whoever was behind those deaths, she didn’t know, but the Fey owed the mysterious agent a debt of gratitude. With the loss of hisumagi, Maur had no way to open the portals to the Well of Souls that would enable him to deliver an army for a surprise attack.
He had something up his sleeve, though. Something so important he would not even let himself think about it when he was with her.
