Page 6

Gavin

…and come find me, my love

For the doves have gone

Soarin’ through the dawn

G avin paused, tilting his head. The soft voice carried down the hall, and with it the solemn melody that had swept across Kordouva. He hadn’t heard that song since the war had ended. But who could be singing it now? Had he finally lost his mind, succumbed to guilt for all he’d done during the war?

Oh my darling love

I have lost my heart

With hope’s depart…

As he drew closer on silent feet, the voice washed away all meaning behind the words. He found himself nearly hypnotized by the layered quality of the voice, like a siren’s call. He stopped and let his eyes fall shut. Somehow, this voice, this singer, had turned a mournful melody into one of longing. He found himself almost believing the two lovers in the song would find each other again, and that they would share in peace and life everlasting. His own heart yearned for nothing more, and by the sound of the soothing tone that enveloped him, Gavin knew without a doubt that the singer shared in his dream.

Gavin shifted on his feet. The floorboard betrayed him, groaning loudly in the otherwise quiet hall. The singing stopped.

Gavin cursed himself. He straightened his shoulders and smoothed the front of his shirt down. Fixing a bored expression on his face, he meant to appear as if he hadn’t heard the singing in the slightest, and that he most definitely hadn’t stopped to listen.

The detachment he tried to instill in his veins shattered the instant he rounded the corner.

Waiting for him there was the very woman he couldn’t help but suspect of some deception, and yet, he began to realize, the very same woman his mind often strayed toward for no discernable reason.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said quickly.

At the sound of his voice, Adelaide jumped. The duster fell from her hand, and she whirled on him, her green eyes alight with panic.

Guilt clawed at him. Had she truly not heard the floorboard creak?

Gavin studied the carpet. He couldn’t stop the words that tumbled from his lips next. “I hope you don’t mind me saying you have a lovely voice.”

And she did. A voice as gentle and soft, yet sure as Adelaide’s demeanor. It made Gavin think of the not-so-far-gone past and the impending eclipse, though he supposed that was more her choice of song than her singing. “Kordouva’s Lament” was a song everyone seemed to know. He wondered if that perhaps wasn’t the case anymore. Penumbra and Darshovi had been defeated. The generation born in the years since the end of the war would not know the perils theirs and their forebears had.

Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe there were more Kordouvians anxious about the upcoming eclipse than within the walls of Castle Belmont. It was the first eclipse since the end of the war. It would only be natural that his countrymen shared the same concern, the one that had led Gavin to spend months preparing for something that might not come to pass.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied quietly. Gavin was almost afraid to look at her. Had he embarrassed her? Made things more awkward than they should have been?

He hoped that wasn’t the case. He hadn’t meant to witness what he was slowly realizing was a private moment of vulnerability.

Gavin wished he hadn’t moved a muscle. He should’ve just stood there and waited for Adelaide to move along down the hall.

Though there was no guarantee that she hadn’t started at the far end and that she would come upon him standing there.

That would have been awkward.

Gavin shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts from his head. His mind grappled for something to say, to fill the silence. Gavin chanced a look at Adelaide. His shoulders dropped in relief. She wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, her fixation was on the fallen feather duster. Gavin studied her, the way her hair draped over her shoulders and how it curled softly at the edges and the way the light bounced off her rich brown locks. A spark flitted through his mind. An unassuming maid who appeared at estates and disappeared along with a valuable magical artifact. Could she really be Adelaide?

The realization reminded him of his need to focus, especially if his growing suspicions proved accurate.

Slowly, their eyes met. Once again, Gavin found himself captivated by the glimmer hidden behind the emotions that flitted across her emerald eyes. The dread simmering in his gut and the sense of responsibility tightening in his chest loosened.

To be a good thief was to have power over someone. A good thief went unnoticed. They disarmed people with a charming personality or were so quiet their presence left no trace of a disturbance.

Adelaide drew too much attention to be a thief. Gavin kept wondering if maybe her appearance at the estate was a mistake, a coincidence.

Perhaps the advertisement was too conspicuous. Gavin probably would have had better luck of trapping Mistress Scrabs’s thief had he let rumors about him possessing the Eye of Behelwer leak from Castle Belmont.

He’d never been more uncertain about anything as he stared back at Adelaide. He truly didn’t know what to make of her as his mind fractured and waged war with itself.

So he said the only thing he could think of. “How is your wrist?”

Adelaide shifted. “Much better, thank you.”

Gavin bobbed his head. That was good at least. Even with his latest conspiracy in mind, Gavin wished he knew what to do to assure her that no harm would come to her here at the estate, that she was safe. He also wished he hadn’t given himself away, bitter that he’d ruined the chance to hear more of Adelaide’s singing.

It was odd how quickly his own vulnerabilities responded to her, regardless of whether or not she was consciously playing them. For that, Gavin couldn’t say. He didn’t wholly understand what was happening every time their eyes met or when he happened upon her. All he knew was that his chest felt loose, and, for the first time in days, his mind stopped. Adelaide was like the eye of the storm: utterly calm despite the chaos and danger around it.

He didn’t know which disturbed him more. The effect that she had on him, or the fact that he didn’t mind it.

If only there wasn’t that suspicion and the fact that the Master of Thieves would eventually target the Eye of Behelwer.

Clearing his throat, Gavin dragged his eyes away and weakly excused himself. After all, he’d come up here for a reason. As much as he wanted to dawdle, to learn more about Adelaide to satisfy his suspicions, the Eye of Behelwer took precedence. If he didn’t stabilize it on a daily basis, there was no way of knowing how destructive its energy would become.

“Well, I suppose I should be on my way then…and leave you to the, uh, dusting.”

“Oh.” Adelaide’s voice dipped. Gavin studied her, noticing the slight downturn of her lips. Had he upset her? Before he could ask, Adelaide gave him a slight curtsy and said, “Yes, thank you, Your Grace.”

The dismissal struck his heart. He cursed his tongue, forcing himself to continue on his way. Lost in his own thoughts, Gavin nearly jumped as his shoulder grazed Adelaide’s. An apology fell from his lips without hesitation. He hadn’t even realized how close he was to her as he’d gone by.

Luckily, Adelaide didn’t say a word about the accident. Gavin let out a silent sigh of relief, quickening his footsteps so as not to linger any longer lest he embarrass himself further. Squaring his shoulders, Gavin weakly attempted to shove aside all thoughts of Adelaide, the Master of Thieves, and his investigation. He needed complete and absolute focus for this task. If he wasn’t careful, the Eye of Behelwer would consume him, putting everyone at Castle Belmont and possibly the entire province at risk.

Taking a deep breath, Gavin fixed his gaze on the wall at the end of the hallway with its faded paisley wallpaper and chipped wainscotting. He raised his hand. Power emanated from his palm, a gentle fizzle beneath his skin.

The essence of his magic met with the protective wards. Gavin pressed his lips together as the static of the magical barrier rippled through him before it settled, flooding him with a cool sensation. He held his breath as he passed through the wall. His ears popped.

“I hate that,” he muttered, shaking his head. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Gavin let his eyes adjust to the dimness of the vault. The only light came from the few luminous artifacts he’d acquired over the years.

Gavin brought his hands together and slowly pulled them apart. A ball of light formed between the dome of his fingers. Carefully, he pulled wisps of light from the sphere and sent them to the sconces spaced evenly around the room. The wicks of the candles caught flame and sent bouncing light around the cramped vault.

In the very center of all his relics was the crown jewel of them all. The Eye of Behelwer.

A rough vermilion gemstone, the Eye of Behelwer was the only surviving sunstone with its ability.

It was also one of the few magic enhancers Penumbra hadn’t destroyed, making the Eye of Behelwer a sought-after artifact.

Prized, but also dangerous. If someone like Mistress Scrabs were to get hold of the Eye, Gavin wasn’t certain anyone would be able to stop her, not even him. And if there was any merit to his deepest fears…Gavin pressed his lips in a grim line.

There was only a month until the next solar eclipse, the first since Penumbra’s War had ended. But the Eye of Behelwer was in his possession, safe and sound. There was no cause for worry.

Nodding to himself, Gavin held fast to the appeasement offered by his own mind.

He needed to act quickly. The sooner he expelled the stone’s buildup of energy, the better. He couldn’t spend all day staring at it and theorizing how his unseen—and possibly imagined—enemies might use its natural properties against Kordouva.

Slowly approaching the sunstone, Gavin steeled himself against the waves of nausea that consumed him. Every day, it seemed as though the stone grew stronger, needier. He feared he’d have to increase his visits to twice a day as it fed on the energies of the surrounding artifacts. Closing only half the distance between the hidden entrance and where he’d placed the Eye of Behelwer in the center of the vault, Gavin’s knees began to quake. He worried that today would be the day he couldn’t even handle the stone. Still, he pushed himself to keep his bearings. Panting, Gavin put one foot in front of the other. Sweat beaded between his brows. Just one more step, that was all.

Gavin couldn’t even revel in the relief of coming face to face with the sunstone. He still had to take it in his hands and cast something, anything that wouldn’t tear apart the fabric of their world.

Taking the cool stone in his hand, Gavin gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. He would not give into the stone’s temptation. He would not jeopardize his people or his country to learn the extent of his power as influenced by the Eye of Behelwer. He couldn’t risk it.

Maybe one day, he would, but today, while he was in Castle Belmont and could clearly recall the faces of all who worked in his house, Gavin would resist the stone’s temptation.

Licking his lips, Gavin forced his tongue to form the words of the protection spell that rejuvenated the province’s wards. From the moment he and William had been tasked with seeking the Eye and protecting it, they’d spent every moment contemplating the best way to safely utilize its power. They’d decided to use it to strengthen the protective measures they’d cast over the province and, if possible, extend them to as much of Kordouva as they could.

So far, the Eye of Behelwer hadn’t granted Gavin more power than was necessary to safeguard his lands, but it was quickly becoming apparent that the Eye was consuming the magical energy around it from the other artifacts.

Gavin wished he’d had a better and preferably isolated location to keep it, but this was his only vault capable of keeping objects like this.

“I suppose I’ll just have to ask William to help and increase the frequency of dispersion,” he muttered, gently laying the Eye in its regulatory box. Even that cautionary measure wasn’t enough to negate the stone’s effects.

The Eye of Behelwer sought power to amplify, and there seemed to be no way around it but to use it wisely.

Gavin shut his eyes. How had this task fallen to him? Jameson was more than capable of looking after the Eye himself, so why wasn’t this his burden?

Sighing heavily, Gavin turned on his heels and exited the vault. His temples pounded. Weariness weighed his limbs down. He’d have to rest before he was able to continue on in his day. Gavin smiled. He might even have to miss training the newest recruits this afternoon. He couldn’t stand their gawking. He was, after all, only human. Though with the way they regarded him, Gavin feared he’d be mistaken for a god, like the way Darshovians worshiped Penumbra.

He shook his head. His life was utterly absurd. He couldn’t wait to grow old and let society discard him as a frail man awaiting death’s embrace. Only then would he find peace enough to enjoy the beauty of life.