“There is no order,” he replies. “I simply use the gifts that have been granted to me...” He pauses and glances at me. “...by Saru and the Royal Stars.”
This time I can’t hold back my gasp at the cavalier mention of the god of light and creation, and the Royal Stars. To even speak their names is anathema. “I don’t understand. You’re arcanist here? Do your people serve the old gods?”
There’s no apology or fear in his voice as he responds, “I am, and some do. There are no rules or restrictions on how you choose to worship or whom you choose to serve.”
The casual admission of his heresy in defiance of the strictest Oryndhrian law has me reeling. My brain is spinning like a children’s toy top, but all it can latch on to is something logical, something I can make sense of. “So if you’re a... magi... did you do the illusion on the surface?”
He nods and answers the next question on the tip of my tongue—thehowof it. “Yes. It’s powered by jadu crystals. Runes craft the illusion.”
“Power runes.” The only ones I’m familiar with are the elemental ones carved on weapons that Vasha commissioned. But then I remember the symbols on the azdaha’s collar that had served to reduce its magic and strength. “How many runes are there?”
Aran smiles. “Runes are the language of the Royal Stars, lost for so long now that we have forgotten its complexity. I suppose I can teach you a few casting symbols beyond the four elements, if you like.”
It’s like a lifeline—one I’d be foolish not to take, considering the position I’m in with my own abilities. I bite my lip and then nod. “I would like that,” I say quickly, as Roshan returns to us.
Aran cants his head in a gracious incline even as the prince shoots me a curious look. “It would be my honor to instruct you, my lady. Get some rest. Later I will have some dinner sent to your quarters. You are both required to report first thing tomorrow morning for duty.”
“Duty?” Roshan asks.
“Yes. In the weapons forge, two levels below this one. Everyone contributes here. If you need anything, place your thumb directly over this insignia”—he gestures to a circular hieroglyph on the reverse side of the medallion—“and I will come as soon as possible.”
I blink. “How?”
Aran chuckles. “Magic, of course.”
My heart jolts again at his casual use of something that has been so forbidden and is now the epicenter of my chaotic universe, but I don’t respond, keeping my face neutral.
“Thank you, Aran,” Roshan says.
He bows so deeply that he nearly folds in half. “My deepest honor, Sire.”
***
A single chamber, with what looks like two sleeping pods carved out on either side of the bedroom adjacent to the communal living space, greets us several narrow flights up. A glass panel rests at the far end, leading outside to a stone parapet that looks over the market square. I join the prince out there.
Roshan and I don’t speak for a long moment, but then I clear my throat. “I take it Aran knows as well.”
“He’s part of the commander’s inner circle,” he replies.
“Did you hear him say he’s a magi?”
Roshan peers at me. “Does that bother you?”
I glare at him. “It’s incredibly vexing when you answer a question with a question.”
The appearance of that teasing, crooked smile of his makes my breath hitch. “But when you respond so prettily, it’s hard not to.”
“You won’t think so when you’re flat on your back,” I growl.
With a low laugh at my very empty threat, Roshan looks over a shoulder at me. “I did hear Aran say that.”
I sniff when he doesn’t offer any more. “I can’t seem to get my mind around it.” I hold up the medallion dangling at my neck. “Runes of power.”
“You carve magical runes into swords for Vasha,” he says. “It’s not so far-fetched.”
I stare at him in shock. “How do you know that?”
“He supplies weapons for the palace, and I make it my business to be aware of the flow of jadu.” Roshan lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “I recognized your name that first day in the courtyard.”
