Chapter 42 Ikar
Ikar
Isit slouched in my seat at the high table, an elbow on the arm of my chair.
The wax and wane of voices and laughter filling the air around me dulls my hearing until my thoughts flow freely.
I recall the meeting held soon after we’d landed with several of my highest officers, Nadiette as head of the originators, and Jethonan.
Discussions on the gloam masters lasted for far too long; the only solution decided on was to increase patrols and originators.
It doesn’t seem like enough when I realize the danger of the enemy we face, but until I find a Black Tulip and bridge, there isn’t much else we can do.
It wasn’t until after the meeting, when I’d gone in search of Vera, that I’d found she’d already left.
I think back on the first time we met, her boldness in soaking my hard-earned list of Black Tulip names in tea.
Though I was enraged at the time, now a smile twitches about my lips.
I never did get the information from her.
Stubborn woman. Other memories come to mind, but the one that lingers is our kiss on the dimly lit second floor of Mama Tina’s house.
Jethonan’s voice pulls me from my thoughts as he leans closer. “If I were to guess your thoughts, it would be that they center on a woman.”
His voice is just above a whisper, but Nadiette, who sits beside Jethonan stiffens, her spoon hitting the rim of her soup bowl before she recovers and takes a dainty sip. I blink as if merely bored.
“There is no woman of that sort in my life.” I make no effort to lower my voice, but I can’t completely hide the bitter note that tinges my tone. There is one woman I want, and she hates me for being king, which is just as well since nothing can come of the feelings between us anyway.
“But there was, until this morning? Hm?” Jethonan whispers.
A muscle in my jaw ticks, and I realize I’m clenching my teeth. How does he know such things? Blazing observant advisor.
“Your Majesty.” Nadiette leans a bit past Jethonan to catch my eye. “Might I have a word with you this evening?”
I incline my head, then take a long swallow of the wine in my glass.
Fatigue burns my eyes. Now not only must I speak with Nadiette again, but I must speak with Jethonan about my wayward magic.
I sigh and sink a little deeper into my chair.
The evening drags on while I wait an appropriate amount of time until I can leave.
It’s easy to fall back into memories of Vera, but I catch myself this time.
I focus instead on my broken magic. The mental energy to keep it wrapped so tightly the last several days around Vera has drained me.
I cautiously loosen my tightly coiled magic just enough for it to move freely through my veins, ensuring I don’t offend any ladies in the room.
I wait, ready to tug it back, but I find relief in the normalcy of the magic flowing through my body.
I continue to relax my grip on it and find that it reaches for… no one.
I wait a few minutes.
Still, nothing.
I try to direct it toward Nadiette, but I find that that part of my magic, for lack of a better term, no longer exists.
Could it have simply returned to normal on its own?
I think back over the past day and realize that after days of having to learn to control it, I have felt no pull or draw since this morning. I need answers.
I take another long swallow and set my glass down hard before I stand and indicate that the meal can continue before I take my leave. Jethonan stands and follows after me. Once we reach his office and the door is securely closed, I turn toward him, frowning.
“There’s something wrong with my magic. Or, at least, there was.”
“Explain so I may understand, Your Majesty.”
I start to pace from one side of the room to the other.
“I spent days with Vera, and my magic never reacted in any way different. Then, several days before we returned, it did. It draws toward her as you described it should draw toward a Queen of the Night. But just now, at dinner, it’s normal.
No drawing toward anyone. What could have happened? ”
I stop pacing and wait for his answer.
Jethonan leans against his large desk covered in glass vials and bowls of odd-colored liquids and folds his arms. “Could Vera be—”
I scowl and shake my head, frustrated he’s asking. I won’t hope for something that’s not possible. “I already told you that I was with her for days, and my magic never drew toward her like that. I did get injected by velvet widow venom—”
Jethonan shakes his head. “Velvet widow venom has not affected any other’s magic, as far as I know.”
“How am I to identify a Black Tulip if my magic is drawing toward random women?” I ask angrily.
Jethonan thinks for a moment, then asks, “Is your magic working normally in every other way?”
I nod.
“Has it drawn toward any other woman?”
“No.”
Jethonan smirks. “Then the only explanation is that you had a Black Tulip in your hands.”
I refuse to consider what he says. “Are there not ways to test my magic?”
Jethonan raises his brows. “May I be honest, Your Majesty?”
“Possibly,” I growl.
“You are an observant, intuitive warrior.”
I warily accept his compliments with a nod.
He appears to choose his words carefully. “With those gifts… did anything come to your notice that may have seemed different about her?”
I rub the back of my neck with a hand as I begin to pace again. “No.”
All her differences made sense, sort of.
I shake my head, but then memories begin to show themselves, and I stop. “Have you ever met an originator who never wears white or shows their mark?”
Jethonan shakes his head. “No, but it’s believable.”
I nod in agreement and continue back across the room. “Animals are drawn to her, but so they are to Rhosse, as well.”
Jethonan nods, but the knowing glint in his eye makes me want to leave his office. There’s no possible way Vera is a Black Tulip. It doesn’t make sense.
I continue, somewhat warily, this being one of my biggest questions. “What about an originator that also has the magic of a talented healer?”
Jethonan smiles like a smug cat. “Never that.”
My gaze whips toward him as the tiniest flicker of hope comes to life in my chest—I extinguish it with a scowl. “But is it possible?”
Jethonan shrugs. “I don’t believe so. I’ve never heard of a person being born with two magical factions.” He raises a questioning brow. “Did she heal you?”
“Once, when she believed I was a criminal. I was unaware, but she admitted it when I questioned her later.”
“Anything else about her magic?” Jethonan prompts.
I think for a moment, remembering how it felt when I pulled large amounts of lucent and didn’t feel like I was going to burst into flames. “It was cooler than I’ve ever felt, which made it more comfortable to use. I didn’t feel as if I were going to burn alive.”
Jethonan’s eyes are eager now. “And the color of her magic… a hint of yellow as the sun? Or white, like the moon?”
“…like the moon,” I say slowly.
I’d forgotten that Jethonan had mentioned something about that at the beginning of all this.
Jethonan retrieves a familiar book from the shelf near the tall windows across the room.
The same book he’d shown me before. He opens to a page, then flips a few more, then begins reading and grunting to himself before slapping the book closed.
It was hardly enough time for him to have even read anything.
“She’s a Black Tulip,” he says decisively. “I double-checked for your peace of mind, Your Majesty, as I’ve known from the moment she left my office the evening before your Lucent Mountain journey. She obliterated the gloam I had planned to use for experimentation, seemingly by accident.”
I do recall him acting strangely that night, but that’s not unusual for Jethonan. What if it just escaped due to her messing with the lid? I find his arguments are convincing, but still, doubts linger.
I stand before one of the windows, fold my arms across my chest, and look out over the tiny bits of glowing light that shine amongst the shops and along the streets in the darkness of night. “Explain to me why my magic didn’t recognize her until the middle of our journey.”
“There is an explanation; it just has to be found,” Jethonan says, sounding overly patient. “Why don’t you find her and ask?”
I laugh sardonically. “Another problem I haven’t yet mentioned. She saw my mark, and to say she wasn’t happy is an understatement. She ran as soon as we returned.”
Jethonan moves behind his desk and tinkers with a twisty, curling glass tube as a bright-colored liquid sluggishly moves through.“Yet another piece of evidence to indicate our assumption is correct.”
He’s right. But I can’t let go of the question I previously posed, and will again.
“Again, why did my magic not recognize her until two days ago?” Exasperation bleeds through my voice now.
Jethonan gives an overly patient sigh as he flicks a piece of his equipment a few times, and suddenly green liquid begins to pour from a miniscule spout and into a bowl.
“My lord, there are ways for a person to hide their magic. It is uncommon, as it is usually quite unnecessary, but surely possible. I can inquire—”
“No.” I sigh. “It won’t be necessary. You are correct that we have enough evidence to assume she is a Black Tulip.”
I quit fighting the painful truth. After everything we’d been through together, knowing how much I needed the help of a Black Tulip, still she hid? Told half-truths? Refused to trust me? Betrayal as hot as a knife taken straight from the fire stabs me in the chest.
I run a hand through my hair. “All this time…”
Jethonan stands, giving me his full attention now. “Trust is more easily gained with patience and kindness than anger and retaliation, my lord.”
Then my expression has given me away, again. Or maybe it’s my fists, now clenched so tightly my knuckles have turned white, but words intended to calm enrage me further.