Page 17 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

T he next few days went by in a blur. More like a dream than waking hours. Or a nightmare. One Ambrose was completely unable to wake from.

She’d been given a dark red dress that hugged her chest, waist and hips, but thanks to a high slit up each side of the leg, it moved freely and comfortably.

Underneath, she wore light leather pants, thin enough for comfort and mobility, and a new dragon leather corset strapped around her sternum.

Akadian had gifted it to her two days after her trial with a gruff, “You’ll be needing this. ”

It only made her long for the one her brother had given her. Her new one was crafted from a deep red leather with gold detailing, and while it was beautiful, it wasn’t her corset.

She’d been barred from going back to the servant dorms, and hadn’t seen Ernaline, nor Adym, since her trial.

Sneaking out for their nightly training sessions now impossible under Akadian’s watchful eye.

She was allowed to roam freely around the palace, however no matter where she went, unless it was private lessons with Magnus, Akadian was right behind her. Silently with her.

Adym was smart. She knew he wouldn’t risk it and hadn’t left the palace at night since their last session, and was lying low.

Murmurs of a servant with the sword skills to kill a guard traveled like Wyldfire and the royals had already begun investigating how she’d come to acquire those skills.

Members of the guard would be obvious first suspects.

Though it was impossible, she wished she could see his worried smile once again.

Her now white braid fell down her back and she wondered if he would even recognize her anymore.

Unable to see any of her friends, Ambrose had been subjected to the random, annoyed sounds the prince made throughout the day.

If he bothered to acknowledge her at all.

The rest of the time, he’d taken to posting quietly behind her wherever she went.

Each night he locked her door without a word and she’d hear his own shut moments later, and only then, would she finally be alone.

Those moments had become something precious to her.

When the rest of the world no longer existed, and for some stolen, quiet moments, she was the only one left.

At least today she had her first private lesson with Magnus. A few days stretched for an eternity since the last time she’d seen him. How different everything had become so quickly. Standing in the courtyard, watching him clap his hands joyfully now felt like a lifetime ago.

“When can I visit my quarters? I have some personal items I’d like to retrieve,” Ambrose asked for the tenth time.

She knew what he was going to say and his answer still annoyed her.

The trip to Magnus’ office used to be something she looked forward to, now it was like being watched by the kingdom’s worst guard dog.

“As I’ve said,” Akadian told her, his annoyance mirroring hers, “if you have anything to retrieve, I can get it for you.” A bluff, the prince would never be caught dead in that area of the palace.

“Casimir has forbidden the servants from engaging with you and you with them. While he can’t punish you, he can certainly punish them.

By all means, if you don’t care what happens to your friends, be my guest.”

“Is that why you’ve been getting my dressings every day like a lady maid?” She taunted him, but deep down was quite happy to have colors to wear now, instead of the white cages she’d worn her entire life. The world was so much warmer with color in it.

“Yes,” he replied sharply. “Watch it, Little Rose.”

“Ambrose,” she bit back, “I thought the title Trial Champion came with the full autonomy of one?” She rolled her eyes, quoting Casimir.

“It does. ”

“So I can go where I please?” She grinned that sickly sweet smile, slowing her pace as she noticed the hallway that would take her to Magnus.

“Certainly.” He peered down at her, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly as his eyes burned into hers.

“So I can go to the servant dorms?”

“No.”

“You’re infuriating,” Ambrose seethed. She was growing more accustomed every day to letting her true emotions shine through. How many years did she have to bite her tongue?

He simply laughed at her as they stopped and he leaned against the stone wall, the muscles in his chest flexing just a little with each chuckle as he crossed his arms. It was a laugh that never reached his eyes.

He taunted her, and she hated him, but she hated the small warmth that spread across her cheeks as she realized she was staring, even more.

Pulling her eyes away, she slid past him and said softly, “You know…it’s beyond me how a fire mage, the most powerful one in the kingdom, who can command flames hotter than the sun…can be so cold.”

She didn’t see his facial expression as she left him standing there like the puppet he was.

* * *

“My dear child.” Magnus extended his arms to Ambrose, calling her to them.

As she crossed the threshold of his office, she threw herself into those arms. This was the only room in the entire palace she’d ever been safe.

Actually safe. Here, with Magnus, surrounded by his books and trinkets collected from all over the empire.

From his spy glass in the window that could see clear to the stars in the night sky, to the original editions of An Accumulative History in consecutive order, all the way to the handwoven carpet from a market she could only dream about.

The Grand Mage smelled as he always did, of burnt oak wood and rain as though he’d just come back from camping in the forest.

“Magnus.” Ambrose choked back a sob, she hadn’t realized how much she missed him in such a short time.

“Come, child, sit.” He gestured for her to take his chair. Almost a throne it rose so high and sat so wide, with cushions the size of bed pillows. Ambrose had spent many nights in this chair, listening to Magnus tell tales of the lands he’d seen and the kings and queens he’d served.

She grabbed his hands firmly in hers. Tears stung her eyes but she held them back, afraid if she cried now she’d never be able to stop. She looked him deep in his eyes and pleaded with her own. “Magnus, what do I do?”

He met her gaze, a sadness filling his own that was new to see on his usually happy face.

His beard, his pride and joy and always so kept, was tangled as though he hadn’t brushed it in days.

His cloak wasn’t the usual rainbow of colors but a solid black with silver stars. She’d never seen her mentor so serious.

He placed a comforting hand on her cheek and for a small moment, her worries melted.

Magnus had all but raised her, nurturing her since she was such a small child and showed her first signs of Magick.

If anyone knew a way out of her fate, it would be him.

It had to be. He nudged her cheek, pulling her face to look at him. “Tell me everything.”

So she did.

She started with encountering the guard all the way to the trial which he’d been there to witness.

She told him of her failed duty, the tree that called her and how she thought she died.

She explained how different her mana was and the constant self-control it was taking to keep it at bay.

Most of all, she told him how terrified she was.

When she was done, a weight she didn’t realize she’d been carrying lifted from her shoulders and she wasn’t so alone anymore.

He sat across from her, listening intently, his expression never changing from the concern all over it as she told her story. When she finished, she waited patiently for his response, ready to do whatever he told her to get out of the tournament.

When he finally spoke, he squeezed her hand. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I can’t imagine what the last few days have been like for you.”

She stared at him. “That’s it? Magnus, you have to help me. I can’t compete in the trials. I’ll die!”

He looked at her with that gentle expression that usually told her everything would be alright. “What do you know about Magick and Divine Law?”

“Mostly what you’ve taught me.” She shook her head thinking back to her lessons. “Mana is the balance in all life, the eternal life force in everything. Without it, everything would fall apart.”

“Yes, yes, you can recite your lessons well but do you truly understand them?” he asked, squeezing her hands.

“I think so?” She leaned back and rested her back against the chair.

“Magick isn’t just inside of us, it’s all around us.

It’s the very thing that makes us, which is why all beings and creatures on some level have Mana inside of them, even if it’s only enough to sustain their life but never wield Magick for themselves.

Divine Law is the structure to that order.

The balance in which Magick gets carried out.

The gods are the vessels of Magick in this world and the source of all of it for all Almurians, which is why we’re bonded to them and our magick carries from their bloodlines.

Without them, these kingdoms, our people, none of this would exist. It’s why the gods have indebted us to them, for which each of us pays every day.

Some more than others.” Magnus paused and a somber look fell over his wrinkled face.

“That’s why, you must compete in the trials. ”

His words hit Ambrose right in the chest. “I can’t! I won’t survive. There has to be a way to escape. Somewhere to run. Anywhere .”

“I would not be so quick to reject it, child.” Magnus lowered himself so they were eye to eye. “Not everything is as it may seem in this world. You might not yet know what your fate is to be.”

“How could I possibly survive something no one has survived?” she pleaded.

“You know The Calling, correct?”

“Of course.” She’d only been waiting for it her entire life.

“Every full mage is eventually called by Magick in their own unique way. ”