But when I stepped forward, it was with a determined stride. Whatever waited on the other side, I would meet it standing.
Chapter 9
Isca
The guards beyond the gate knew me on sight. One, recognizable by his crooked nose and limp, offered me a curt nod and silently stepped aside. He’d helped pull the cart off my father when it had pinned him against the wall. I’d seen the others before, as well, and their familiarity nearly let me forget I was stepping into something I might not survive.
But my heart didn’t. It was thumping like a spooked mare on the run, and beads of sweat trailed down my back. My father had insisted that this summons was about offering me work. Yet surrounded by the cold, damp stone walls, his reassurances felt like a distant fantasy.
The inner corridor’s breeze almost pulled the lavender sprig from my braid. I fixed it back in place. It was a piece of home, proof that I came from love, however poor and messy that love might be, and a small token of defiance against their standards of perfection.
A tall, lean man in dark robes stood sentinel at the grand stairway. With a quick look at me, he wordlessly extended his hand, palm up. Puzzled, I handed over the letter. Wrinkling his nose as if it had an offensive odor, he examined the seal closely.
I was already reading him before his mouth turned down in a frown. Disdain rolled off him. To him, I was an insignificant insect, making a nuisance of myself inside these noble halls. Too bad I didn’t have a stinger.
It was exactly what I’d expected. Even so, it hurt.
Still holding my letter, he turned and started walking sedately up the stairs without a glance back. He didn’t introduce himself or even make certain I was the right woman.
Despite my apprehension, I rushed to walk beside him, chin high, carefully placing my feet on the cold, polished stones. The further we went, the more I felt the vibrating hum of magic in the walls, like lightning caged inside each stone. The keep was alive with it.
But his judgment drowned out the awe I should’ve felt. His contempt tried to sink down into every pore so it could poison me with self-doubt. Still, my anger at his dismissal couldn’t completely overshadow my doubts, which were growing the higher we rose. What if I were in trouble? Had the messenger lied? Had the executioner told them the true extent of my power? Was this horrible mage a sign that things would only get worse? My throat tightened around the questions clawing for escape.
But I refused to be a slave to my anxiety. So I swallowed every question along with my trepidation. I’d find out what I was in for soon enough.
We reached a wide door made of dark, iron-bound wood at the top of the stairs. My guide didn’t knock, just slipped inside like he belonged—leaving me hesitating on the threshold, like I didn’t.
Frustration—at myself, at the childish behavior of a grown man—flared in my chest. I channeled it into a small burst of magic that spurred what had to be the chancellor’s heavy door open all the way.
If the mages wanted me in the heart of their fortress, I could damn well act like one.
The chancellor’s spacious office had surprisingly understated decor. The only nod to his wealth were the several braziers crackling softly, smelling of costly apple wood chips, and thick curtains that let in slits of light from the narrow windows set into the stone walls. No tapestries or grand paintings decorated the space. Only neatly stacked books filled the cabinets flanking his desk, custom-made for the purpose.
Behind the desk sat a man whose presence reverberated like a warning in my bones. I straightened instinctively.
The chancellor pulsed with enough power to vibrate the air around him. Though his wasn’t as potent as the executioner’s, which had been so powerful it had completely shoved the air aside. He looked up, studying me with...amusement?
“Ah, Pasgen,” the chancellor said, glancing at my guide. “You’ve delivered her in one piece.”
Pasgen. Of course. The scribe who’s written the damned letter inviting me.
I turned a reproving look his way.
Pasgen’s shoulders tensed the moment our eyes locked.Wretched cad.
He abruptly turned and left without saying a word, the door clicking shut behind him.
The first thing the chancellor said took me by surprise. “You’re Heleth and Taig’s daughter.”
Hearing my parents’ names made my hackles rise. It wasn’t anger, but it was pretty close. The Assembly hadn’t truly honored my father’s service, not by a long shot, but I couldn’t let the chancellor know how I felt about that.
He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit.”
I put on my best demure mask, batted my eyelashes, and said, “Yes, Lord Chancellor.”
His warm, disarming smile hid a shocking emotional emptiness. I felt nothing—no doubt, no tension, no judgement. Emotionally, he was as unreadable as a fence post. Exactly like the executioner.
This was risky because I couldn’t tailor my answers to suit his mood.
