Page 28
Story: Of Mischief and Mages
I was not facing a fresh slate in a world of whimsy and magic by falling for the damn bad guy.
I ought to tell the prince. If I was supposedly a member of a highly regarded bloodline, perhaps I’d be wise to see what happens when another mage robs someone like me.
With what little I knew about this place, it could be nothing more than a slap on the wrist, but I enjoyed the daydream of ropes and blood and throwing knives all the same.
A heavy-handed knock came to the door. The latch clicked before I could offer an invitation, and Ingrid stepped back into the room.
“Ready, My Lady?”
I smoothed the front of the skirt, slowly accepting that, at least for now, this was my reality.
With a slightly forced smile, I nodded. “Ready.”
Back in the great hall, the prince rose from his seat at the head of a long oak table in the center of the room. “By the stars, you look lovely.”
“Thank you.” I paused at a chair, dragging my fingertips along the intricate ivy designs along the back. “Why does it feel like I’ve been here before?”
The prince didn’t respond, merely gestured to the seat beside his. “Please. Sit.”
I obeyed, all at once aware of the cinch in my belly. How long had it been since I’d eaten? The last I could recall was a green smoothie from a café in the casino. The same ladies with their gold bonnets and braids hurried to the table, removing the covers over silver plates.
There was a cut of roasted meat with sprigs of what appeared to be rosemary, breads with a drizzle of a glaze, and boiled roots and potatoes with flecks of green garnish.
One palm rubbed over my stomach, hiding the mortifying rumble of greedy hunger. Destin chuckled and took his place at the table.
When the same man who’d opened the drapes filled the prince’s silver goblet with a deep wine, the prince leaned in. “Send Van to fetch my brother, will you? He should meet our guest.”
Another flinch of Destin’s mouth followed. I’d learnedwell enough how to catch the truth hidden in words unsaid—the brother was a source of stress for the prince.
With a bow, the man scurried off.
Destin took the liberty of pouring me some of his wine. “It’s made from toadberries in the hills of our cliffside village, Myrkfell.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Toadberries?”
“I know, a horrid name, but it originates from the strange sound made by the vines when the berries are harvested. Almost like they’re croaking.” The prince winked over his goblet. “I assure you, it’s delicious.”
The wine was sweet silk—gentle and delicate with a touch of something like cranberry in the end. Destin seemed pleased with the dribble that spilled from the corner of my mouth and topped off my goblet.
“So,” I said after a few ladies placed a two-pronged fork beside my plate. “You, um, keep calling me a high mage. When you say mage, is that like a witch?”
“To me, no. The mortal realm, the place from which you came if youarethe Blood Sacrifice, uses the term witch with more frequency, I believe. Such folk work in herbs and runes and spells, but do not possess magical blood, yes?”
I shrugged, still hung up on the insinuation I came from a realm of mortals. “I’m not a witch, so I don’t entirely know.”
“Mage folk burn with magic in the blood. We spend our lives studying and improving our gifts. We’re all individuals, of course. It takes meditation and self-reflection to discover our purpose, but when it is found a mage trains for the role of knowledge and instruction, or for more brutal reasons.”
“Meaning?”
“Battle, My Lady. Many of our people embrace their talents to defend our land and the crown.”
Wonderful. I was in a fortress filled with magic users who were taught to kill.
Strange, but my body tried to draw out the rush of blood, the cinch in my gut, it tried to find the anxiety, yet it wasalmost as though relief settled somewhere in my chest. A puzzling sensation—much like Destin said—that, at last, my existence made sense.
I cleared my throat and speared some of the meat. Tough, with a gamey taste, still it settled hearty in my stomach. “So, a high mage, what’s the difference?”
“Ah.” Destin broke a scored bread roll in two and bit into one half. “A high mage has proven mastery in their clan. There are various talents of magic, but only four clans: Soturi, our battle mages. Natura, who connect to the land and creatures, Seers, the visionaries and speakers of souls. And Emendus, our healers.”
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