4. Safe travels
Safe travels
I solde woke up with a start. She was outside – no, she was in a tent? There was the sound of canvas moving gently in the wind, birdsong, and the shuffling of feet behind her.
Wild, erratic memories of the night before flooded her mind before she could take the time to figure out where she was.
There had been magic, so much of it. It had hurt, taken hold of her and suffused her, like it needed something to latch onto.
Then, when there was nowhere left for it to go, and she could no longer contain it, it had just… exploded.
She kept silent, not wanting to alert whoever was in the tent with her, and slowly brought her hand up to her face.
There it was, the marking. A shimmering, pale blue line that ran from her index finger into her sleeve, a miniature version of the ley line she had admired all her life.
These markings ran all over her body. She knew because she could feel them there, the pattern on her skin tingling with power, like a second heartbeat.
Leytouched, the mage had called her. She attempted to recall what she knew of the subject, from books or lessons. ..
It was no use. This wasn’t academic; it wasn’t theory.
There was an enormous source of magic within her.
All her life she’d idly wished to be a mage, to manipulate the world with magic like mages could, but this…
this was not what she meant! People died last night.
A rush of terror ran through her, causing her to make a small, involuntary squeaking sound.
“My lady? Are you awake?”
Leni’s voice. Of course Leni would be here. She turned over to see her lady’s maid standing nearby, hands clasped together.
“Oh, my lady,” Leni said, her eyes glossy. Her lips were pursed and quivering, her gaze drawn not to Isolde’s eyes but to her neck, where she could feel one of the blue lines curling up around her jaw.
Isolde tried to sit up, regretting it immediately. Her head pounded something fierce, and the world spun, churning her stomach. She’d killed people. How many? Who were they? What would happen to her now?
“Could I have some water…?”
Leni rushed over to a small table and returned with a full cup.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Leni wrung her hands together. “It is a sorry business, and no mistake, but this whole plan is not right, my lady. Surely his Lordship can think of some other –”
Isolde’s father strode into the tent, interrupting Leni. The maid quickly moved off to the side, her head down.
“Father!” she exclaimed, trying to stand but staggering and sitting back down. “I –” She stopped herself. Her father hated displays of emotion.
Lord Trevalyan did not meet his daughter’s eyes. He rarely did, but she’d never felt it so keenly before now. He stood stiffly by the table, placing his hand on the water pitcher. His expression was hard to read.
Somewhere inside, something surged, a current. It was the magic. She couldn’t let it out again. Pressing her lips together tightly, she stared at the ground and took deep, slow breaths, like she had been taught.
“I am glad to see you awake, Isolde. Do you understand what has happened?”
Isolde nodded, keeping her eyes downcast. She killed people. Would she go to prison? Would the mages demand her execution again? A shudder ran down her spine .
“I have spent a great deal of time this night speaking with mages who are experts on the magic of the ley lines. They believe they can cure you of this curse.” Lord Trevalyan circled the rim of the pitcher with his index finger.
Isolde looked up in surprise. She’d killed mages, yet they wanted to help her?
“However,” her father continued, ignoring her shocked expression, “the ritual required must be performed in some old temple far to the north.” He made a vague gesture. “You’ll travel there. Garren and Luella will accompany you.”
“But last night they –”
No. Ladies do not make demands. She swallowed the thousand questions that arose in her mind. Her father wouldn’t answer any of them, just as he wouldn’t show her the sympathy or kindness that she craved from him. So she simply nodded again. “Yes, father.”
“You will depart from the lodge. I had Shadow sent there for you.”
Something about that small gesture made her eyes sting. Shadow was her favourite horse.
Lord Trevalyan cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “And Lord Laghain sent a message. Unfortunately, due to the… situation, the family has withdrawn from the agreement.” His jaw clenched, and his hand tightened into a fist.
At his words, Leni let out a stifled gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. Lord Trevalyan’s eyes flickered briefly in her direction.
Isolde pressed her lips together tightly. She felt… what? Anger? Humiliation? Relief? All of it, and nothing, all at once. She gave another stiff nod.
“I understand.” Ladies do not let their emotions show.
“Yes, well,” her father said, irritation plain in his voice, “they did not have to be quite so eager about it. We did not need more scandal on top of everything else. But it doesn’t matter.
You will travel north, receive the cure.
When you return in triumph, better opportunities will present themselves. ”
Isolde wondered if he was still speaking to her, or mostly to himself.
Her father turned away, then paused. “A third person will accompany you as well, a mercenary, for extra protection. Garren is the best swordsman we have, but he’s not the youngest anymore. ”
She barely registered it. Yesterday’s concerns seemed so small. Sneaking off to read, worrying about a snag in her ballgown.
Now she was leaving home, something she’d often dreamed of, but not by choice.
Never by choice. She glanced down at her hand, where the trail of blue winked at her.
Terror threatened to overtake her again, and she clasped her hands together so tightly it hurt.
The tide of magic slowly rose inside her.
Slow breaths, she told herself. Slow, deep breaths.
Lord Trevalyan straightened and turned toward the entrance of the tent. “When you are ready, they’ll be waiting at the dock.” A pause, then, “Safe travels. May the Watcher protect you. Everything will be alright, in the end.”
Her father hesitated just before stepping outside. For a brief moment, she thought – she hoped – he might say something else, but he never did.
Instead, he only nodded stiffly, not meeting her eyes. Then he was gone.