Lomar
“Do not fight,” Kai whispered as they lay face down on the stone floor.
Math snorted but kept his mouth shut. For now.
Two guards moved in with practiced efficiency, giving them both a thorough pat-down. They found the Souna daggers easily enough, as well as the bundle of letters Math had kept tucked away. No words were exchanged, just hands and pressure and silent appraisal.
The guard who’d lifted her struck her across the face.
Math’s breath caught in fury, but then twisted into a low, bitter chuckle. “I wouldn’t have done that if I were you.”
The same guard turned and raised a hand toward him.
Math only smiled. “Think for a second. We just came through the portal. You wouldn’t be guarding it if it were unimportant. So tell me—how many times have you seen someone come through from the other side?”
That gave the guard pause. Hard to read their face, hidden as it was behind a polished black helmet and a hood that dulled their outline in shadow. They were tall, but nothing else about them suggested gender or status. Just a uniform designed to erase individuality.
Not how he’d have done it. Idallik Knights removed their helmets when back at the cenobium—visibility and trust mattered when you were supposed to be seen as protectors. Not even the heat, which pressed in thick and wet, seemed to deter them. The armor must have been unbearable in this climate.
Another guard stepped forward, her voice sharp and distinctly female. “He has a point.”
The first guard scoffed. “You are joking. Look at them. They are dressed like … like savages.”
Math felt Kai stiffen beside him. That word rang sharply through the bond—a spike of old fury, quickly buried beneath cool control. The restraint she showed was impressive.
“I do not care how they appear,” the second guard said. “They came through the pattern. That means His Majesty will wish to speak with them. It’s not for us to decide what happens.”
Math tilted his head toward her and grinned. “Now that’s a smart one. She’ll go far.”
The first guard made a disgusted sound and shoved them both forward.
They were marched through a twisting sequence of hallways, corridors turning sharply, always descending. The architecture was labyrinthine by design, and it didn’t take long before Math had no idea where they were relative to the surface. Eventually, a final corridor opened into sunlight.
They emerged onto the side of a massive stepped pyramid. Around it stretched a vast city, laid out like one of Kai’s spells—every building perfectly aligned, every color part of a greater design.
Rokasmaa’s capital, Bashan, had its own beauty, but it was born of contradictions—soot and gold, noise and grace.
Whereas this capital, Monchlen, was quiet.
The sky was clear, the air thick with heat but not smoke.
The streets smelled of dust and citrus oil, not coal or manure.
It was undeniably more elegant. Cleaner. Richer.
And creepier.
People moved briskly through the avenues below, finely dressed in airy clothes that shimmered with embroidery and jewel work.
But they didn’t smile. They didn’t laugh.
Their eyes flicked past soldiers with a speed and precision that spoke of habitual fear, like a child who’s learned not to make eye contact because drawing a parent’s attention is dangerous.
Math shivered, despite the heat.
“What is it?” Kai murmured to him.
“No talking,” a guard barked, shoving them both.
They descended the pyramid, crossed a wide stone plaza lined with tall columns, and entered a second structure—less monumental than the pyramid but still grand.
The palace. It echoed some of the same architecture but softened the lines: the kind of place people might actually live, rather than only visit to worship.
Inside, the guards escorted them past an elaborately dressed woman whose rings glittered like a warning. She raised a hand to stop them, indignant.
“They just came out of the portal,” the second guard explained. “His Majesty will wish to speak with them directly.”
The woman hesitated, narrowed her eyes at Kai, and then waved them on. “Third garden.”
And so that was where they went.
The third garden was a long courtyard, open to the sky, with fountains and shallow pools flanked by pebble lawns and carefully placed boulders that framed the space like punctuation marks in a well-designed sentence.
Canopies offered shade, but there was no greenery.
Not a single plant lay anywhere in sight.
A group had gathered beneath one awning, dressed in the local style—soft robes, metallic trim, embroidered belts.
One of them stood apart, wearing more: more metal, more color, more presence.
A circlet of gold rested on his brow. His face was deeply lined, but strong-featured.
His beard curled in stylized loops, oiled and set with gold beads.
He was not handsome, but he was commanding.
Kai stopped walking. Her voice cracked. “Sanis?”
The man turned.
His expression shifted from mild disinterest to stunned disbelief.
He raised a hand, waved away the people surrounding him.
Math blinked. No. Surely not. He’d assumed the King of Lomar must be a descendant. That only made sense: over a thousand years had passed.
But the man was already crossing to them, fast and sure. “Kaiataris,” he said reverently. “I never thought I would see you again.”
He took her shoulders in both hands and gazed at her like he was witnessing a miracle. Then he pulled her into an embrace.
Math stood frozen, every question in the world crowding into his thoughts. He watched the two of them—ancient sorcerers, old friends, something akin to family—and realized, with a strange, distant clarity, that Kai had been right: Another graven wizard had survived.
And apparently, he’d made himself king.
Math had never seen Kai so happy.
This was a family reunion—far more so than meeting the Souna had been. Sanistral had been her mentor, her leader, her father in all but name.
Eventually, King Sanistral took a step back, noticed Math, and frowned. “Perhaps an introduction would be in order.”
Kai smiled, dark eyes bright with laughter. “Indeed, it would. This is Mathaiik Kaven, a knight—”
“A novitiate,” Math corrected, although he winced at himself. Technically speaking, he wasn’t even that.
“Very well. A novitiate of the Idallik Order.” Her smile widened. “Also, my knight. He is the one who woke me.”
At this, King Sanistral studied Math more intensely. “Are you? How interesting. And how did you solve dear Kaiataris’s riddle? It thwarted all my efforts for years.”
“You tried to wake me?” Kaiataris sounded so pleased.
“Of course, my dear.” That adoring look again. “Not recently, mind you. It has become more difficult to enter Rokasmaa over the last few centuries.” His sharp eyes returned to Math. He hadn’t forgotten the question.
Math’s instincts warned him against making light of it.
He scratched his neck. “Honestly, it was desperation. If I hadn’t guessed the right answer, I probably would’ve died.”
One of the king’s thick eyebrows rose. “A lucky guess?”
“And fifteen years or so of research. I’ve been obsessed with the maze since I was a child.”
The man stared at Math with intense focus.
Then, with no warning, the expression softened into a smile.
Sanistral clapped Math on the shoulder with a grip like a hawk’s talons.
“Luck is always helped with preparation. I cannot thank you enough for delivering Kaiataris safely. She is precious beyond gold or jewels.”
“Sanis, you must not say such things!” Kai was blushing now, and the bond carried a flutter of flustered joy that made Math’s chest tighten.
“It has been well over a thousand years, dear one.” The king’s eyes crinkled. “Watch me.” His gaze remained fixed on Math. “You understand what I mean, do you not?”
Math’s eyes drifted to where Kai stood, flustered and red-cheeked. There was a sudden, aching contrast between the intimacy of this reunion and his own cautious orbit. “Yes,” he said finally. Sanistral was waiting, and still hadn’t taken his hand off Math’s shoulder. “I understand.”
Sanistral nodded. “I thought you might.” He squeezed once, then let go. “Why don’t we find you both rooms? I’m certain you must be tired after your journey.”
“Sanis,” Kai said, “there is a great deal we must discuss. The Queens have awoken, no longer content to confine themselves to the forests. They are expanding. Conquering.”
The king contemplated this with pursed lips. “I see.”
“We tried to reach Bashan to warn the head of my order,” Math said. “But we ran into problems. Kai thought you might help—if you were her Sanistral. Which, apparently, you are.”
“Lucky me,” Sanistral said, amused.
“Seriously, Sanis? You made yourself a king?” Kai sounded incredulous. “How could you—” She waved a hand. “Never mind. That is so far down the list of concerns as to be left off the page entirely. The matter with the Queens is far more pressing.”
“I quite agree,” Sanistral said. “But I suspect that will be best discussed at dinner, in private. Just us.” His eyes flicked to Math. “Just the three of us, I should say.”
Math appreciated the clarification because, for a moment, he’d assumed that Sanistral had meant to shut him out. “Thank you, Your Majesty. That’s appreciated.”
Sanistral’s mouth quirked. “Oh, there is no need to address me as such. Certainly, I do not expect Kai to do so without considerable coercion. Call me Sanis.” He began walking toward the entrance to the courtyard.
Math had no difficulty believing Sanistral was a king. He had a king’s absolute faith that people would always follow him.
A faith that proved well-placed in this instance, too.
The wizard carried himself with enormous dignity. Although by no means a tall man, he possessed a commanding presence. Servants stepped aside without hesitation, bowing their heads. Sanistral didn’t notice. He was long accustomed to being the most important person in any room.
Which was the definition of “king,” some might argue.
At some point, Sanistral called a woman over. “Diris, these are my most treasured guests. Treat them with every courtesy. They will require refreshment, proper clothing, and quarters.”
Math wondered what counted as “proper” clothing in a place like this.
King Sanistral turned back to them. “This is Diris. She will attend to you. Someone shall come for you in a few hours for supper. Should you require anything else, simply ask.”
“You are leaving me so soon?” Kai asked.
Sanistral squeezed her hand and released it. “Only for a good cause, I promise. When I return, I shall hear everything, and we shall decide upon a solution together.” He nodded once more at Math.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The king gave him an amused look but chose not to correct him again. “Until later, then.” With that, Sanistral swept back down the corridor.
The serving woman, Diris, bowed deeply. “If it pleases you to follow.”
Math didn’t think he had any other options. So he did.