Page 22

“I’ve never managed to get it to listen to me like that,” he murmured.

I only shrugged. It wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned the ease with which I used my innate magics. Perhaps it was a gift granted by Persynthia in honor of my mother’s tireless and faultless life of service to her.

After a stretch of silence, Vincent said, “There will be rain. Here absolutely, but I am quite confident it will be over the island as well. It is not so far out from here.”

No, Magefall wasn’t far at all. With the clouds currently small wisps in the sky and the sun just cresting, it was possible to see the vague impression of the island along the horizon in front of us.

“With this wind, it will probably freeze,” he continued. “I don’t suggest staying there much longer than needed.”

Someone cleared their throat behind me, loud enough to be heard over the waves. Vincent glanced first and then waved the person over, still relaxed.

Not one of the mages, then.

I twisted, letting my arm drop from my leg.

Reuben stood about ten feet away, dressed in his typical brown pants and tunic, the laces undone at the collar. His hair was down, reaching to his shoulder blades, even longer than mine, the blond highlights within the red catching in the sunrise’s warm light. A small leather bag sat nestled against his hip, the strap cutting across his chest like a bandolier. Reuben never carried daggers, though, trusting the guard to keep him safe while traveling as part of the royal court.

“Simeon has been looking for you,” he said.

I grimaced, and Vincent laughed. Reuben only raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, not coming any closer.

“I assured him you would not miss the Votarist and then suggested I be the one to find you,” he said. His gaze tracked over me. “You’re troubled.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved to my feet.

“I do not need another mother hen,” I groused. “If I wished to be pestered, I could have stayed in the camp after my prayers.”

Reuben laughed, letting his head fall back. It accentuated the marriage tattoo covering his throat, our kingdom’s crest—a lotus overlaying two crossed, downturned arrows—emblazoned in a deep blue. Vincent stood with me, keeping pace as I closed the distance to the healer.

“Which is why I suggested I be the one to retrieve you,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I’m glad my discomfort can be entertainment,” I muttered.

Reuben merely shrugged. “If we do not laugh when times are stressful, we will not feel joy when times are good. Now, here is your circlet and your daggers so you may avoid the encampment altogether.”

He shrugged the bag off his shoulder and pulled the items out. Relief flashed through me. By the softening of Reuben’s eyes, I knew he saw it in my own expression.

“Put out all those voices, Callum,” he said, his voice softer than before, only an earnest whisper. “The only ones that matter are yours and the Goddess’s, though I know she communicates with her earth more than her voice with you.”

He eyed the ground beneath my feet like he could see the tendrils of magic caressing my legs.

Vincent hummed in agreement. “You will know if this is the time, Callum. You have always been just as insightful as your mother. Trust yourself.”

Not true. My mother had been a Diviner, one trusted by Persynthia and Medea with knowledge of the future—in small glimpses, at least. I had no such gift of foresight.

I let Vincent’s soft praise warm me anyway as I took the circlet from Reuben’s loose grip and fashioned it against my forehead, adjusting my hair. Then I armed myself with the daggers, letting the sheaths sit on my hips beneath my tunic so that only the tips of the ornately decorated leather were visible. They wouldn’t be easily drawn, but that wasn’t strictly necessary. These daggers were mostly symbolic. The true blade I carried for protection was already sheathed on my right thigh, the black leather blending with the fabric of my pants, ready to be drawn if needed. If things were truly dire, I had the sword strapped down my spine as well. The coin Phoebe gave me was stashed in a pocket of my pants, the weight of it heftier than expected.

“Let’s go, then,” I said, pulling my shoulders back and lifting my chin.

Reuben and Vincent stood at my shoulders as I walked toward where the Votarist would take me into Magefall.

8

AMETHYST

Sloane coughed as the world came back into focus, the pressure releasing around my chest leaving me gasping for air. I looped my arm around her waist as she slumped, keeping her from dropping to her knees. The Votarist offered a gentle hand as well, helping her find her balance. Once we were both stable, the Votarist pulled away, their hand disappearing into the depths of their robe.

“Welcome to Magefall, omegas of Sepra.”