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MAGES AND MONSTERS

T he betrothal celebration seemed forever ago. Not a day passed that Kazik didn’t miss Helena. He frequently wrote letters to her but never dared to send one, knowing that his father would insist on reading it first.

It wasn’t fair, but it was his life, which was becoming interesting in ways even less welcome than a lack of privacy.

Kazik had always known that his parents both possessed magic.

Not until recently had he recognized that his mother’s magic was stronger than his father’s.

Far stronger. She had never forbidden Kazik to speak of it, but even as a small child he’d known better than to bring up the topic.

“Most modern kings and other rulers do have magic,” his mother had explained to him years ago, “even though international law forbids mages to gain positions of power in government. The problem with such a law lies in enforcement, since most mages are too powerful for unmagical humans to dethrone.”

Ludwik, the advanced-magic tutor hired by Madame Euzebia, had recently informed Kazik that a World Magic Council was reorganizing. “And what will that mean to us?” Kazik asked. “And to non-magical people? Are they afraid of another fay invasion?”

“No, that portal is closed. The problems we now face are inherent to this world, such as countries falling into petty wars to expand their borders, or evil-emperor mages rising to enslave the weak and non-magical. The kind of cycles that repeat throughout history.”

Currently, according to good ol’ Ludwik, openness to the idea of magical teamwork for the common good was reviving worldwide.

If a new World Magic Council were to be formed, Kazik would be in favor.

Mages and monsters should never rule by force and fear.

Cooperation was necessary to protect the non-magical world from domination, and only organized mages possessed the power to subdue rogue mages or to deal with yet undiscovered invasion-minded beings from other dimensions.

As far as Kazik knew, the grand duke remained unaware that his son was a mage.

After extensive testing, Madame Euzebia and Ludwik agreed that a male human possessing Kazik’s level of magic was historically referred to as a caroven , whatever that meant, and they warned him to tell no one.

He still wasn’t entirely sure what his magic-rating meant, but he’d promised secrecy.

But of what possible use was his magic if he couldn’t talk about it and had no idea how to use it? Seriously, it was hard enough to be an adolescent and in love without the triple-whammy of magical chaos in his blood.

In early spring, Kazik’s blood nearly froze in his veins.

It so happened one Sunday, just after morning worship in the chapel, that his father spoiled the midday meal—more like the entire month—by broaching the prospect of a father/son trip up north as soon as the mountain passes cleared, so that Kazik could visit his grandfather and cousins.

The very idea of visiting his paternal relatives dropped a weight on Kazik’s spirit.

“What about my aunts and uncles and grandmother?” Kazik asked between bites, striving to appear casual.

“Honestly, Ojciec , I have too much military training at this time of year—especially practice for the melee. I’ll see the family when they come for my wedding.

That way I can introduce them all to Helena. ”

Sometimes Kazik felt guilty about disliking his relatives, but it didn’t help that his father praised them so incessantly that he felt almost smothered by the thought of them. And his grandfather, the archduke? That man chilled him to the bone.

Sure, his mother might have influenced his attitude toward his father’s relatives, but that didn’t mean she was wrong. Then again, he realized he’d never once heard his mother speak or even hint ill of any of his relatives. The dread was entirely his, based on experience.

His one and only visit up north, four years earlier, was engrained in his memory.

Although his grandfather the archduke was a man whose face seemed permanently carved into a sneer, he and Kazik had discovered a shared passion for draughts.

The freckled boy and the withered old man had played innumerable games on that checkered board.

Kazik lost far more games than he won, but he’d learned a great deal.

Since that visit he’d overheard tales about the archduke that chilled the blood, but to Kazik personally, the old tyrant had been tolerable.

But his female cousins? A total nightmare. Even the little girls were self-absorbed and bossy, and the older ones were far worse. No, he would not go back for a sack of . . . No, make that twenty sacks of jewels. Not a chance.

The topic dropped, he thought for good. But when he passed his mother’s favorite sitting room one afternoon, happened to overhear his parents talking, and caught Helena’s name, he paused in the corridor to eavesdrop.

“Warin, we must ask Ryszard to bring Helena for a visit this spring.”

“Why?” The sharp edge on that word startled Kazik.

“Because they will soon be family. I would love to assist Helena with her wedding gown and trousseau. She’s the only daughter we will ever have.”

“Zeebee”—his father’s pet name for her—“you know I have urgent business in the north that cannot be delayed, and Kazimierz must come with me.”

“You always have urgent business of some sort,” she retorted. “Did you insist on waiting for the wedding until Kazik turns fifteen because you wanted to take him on this trip? What nonsense! Kazik hasn’t seen his betrothed in months!”

Kazik blinked in surprise. Wait. His father was the one who’d insisted on waiting until he was fifteen?

But his mother was speaking in a rush: “If you decide to go north anyway, I suppose I can be chaperone enough for the sweethearts, but it would be better to have both fathers here while we plan the wedding and write invitations. You know how Ryszard still mourns dear Krystyna, and soon Helena will be our daughter-in-law and live here with us, and her father will miss her so! Of course, she will see him whenever he comes to advise you, but it won’t be the same.

We need you to be here, Warin. Our son’s marriage is important. ”

“Yes, his marriage is important, and I shall handle it myself. Tell old Ryszard to keep his beanpole daughter at home,” the grand duke said.

“We don’t need her here. And if Kazimierz doesn’t go north with me, he doesn’t go anywhere.

He will train twice as hard to prepare for this year’s melee, which will be grueling—much harder than he anticipates.

He will have no time for unnecessary guests. ”

Kazik gladly chose to go nowhere. With any luck, he would never see his father’s relatives again.

Home was more peaceful once the grand duke left, but military training began one week later.

His father had spoken truth about the crazy schedule, and new recruits and regulars were already showing up at the barracks.

The chaotic order of military life—or as much as Kazik and his peers knew of it—began before he was ready.

His father’s warning about the increasing difficulty of his military training?

Also true. After factoring in his engineering and magic studies, he had scarcely a moment to spare for personal matters.

But, given a chance, he would happily drop it all and accept the consequences for just one day—one hour—with Helena.

He was desperate enough to ask Solara and Geoffroi for another surprise visit to Castle Valga, but they both refused. Magical rules of propriety (Who knew there was such a thing?) adjusted according to circumstances—in Kazik and Helena’s case, their betrothal and their ages.

Solara did consent to deliver love letters, but only now and then.

Neither Helena nor Kazik really knew what to write about other than their daily activities, but in every note, Kazik reminded her that he missed her terribly.

He kept her equally mushy notes folded tight in a little leather bag on a string, tucked inside his tunic near his heart.

Once the summer training began in earnest, Kazik had minimal time for anything else.

His brain didn’t even register when his father returned.

Every day he drilled, using a variety of weapons and defensive gear.

He was no longer so pudgy, and he’d packed on some muscle.

He was still too short to wear full armor, but for training purposes a chain-mail shirt worked.

As a prince, he had access to Mnisztwo Castle’s large variety of weapons, armor, and shields, and his horse, Iga, could be a lethal weapon herself.

She lacked the weight to oppose a stallion or gelding in a joust, but in melee practices her nimble feet and intelligence had frequently saved Kazik’s skin.

He loved that horse like a sister—she wore as much protective armor as he did.

His jousting destrier, Borys, wasn’t much smaller than Geoffroi, with hooves like platters and muscle piled on muscle. These equine partners gave Kazik a built-in advantage, which he was happy to exploit.

Kazik’s peers weren’t lacking in fine horseflesh, but he would have liked to see the regular troops on better mounts. In battle, a good horse could be the difference between life and death.

He considered himself a decent archer with both recurve and crossbow, and he could shoot a longbow with increasing accuracy.

He had the strength to wield a longer sword that year, which mattered, since his arms were short.

His lack of height was a disadvantage that forced him to work harder than his peers, but he was up for the challenge.

At times he wondered if magic could enhance his fighting skills, but he didn’t dare attempt any such tricks without training and supervision.