Chapter 7
Evie
What just happened?
Originally, I had come seeking Bram. I wanted to tell him about what Lo and I had found at the farming village. He was already gone when I arrived, but none of it mattered—because I couldn’t begin to describe what happened next.
First, I caught a glimpse of King Lionel through the ajar door of the council chamber. Without his crown, he looked almost ordinary. A man, not a monarch. And worried, too.
I rarely saw the king at all. As for the queen, I saw her even less.
She visited the academy on occasion only because the princess studied within its halls.
Magic ran deep in Valdum blood, which was why magisters held seats at the Court, and why the Crown and the academy were like old brothers, bound by power, tempered by need.
Perhaps it was the threat of more riots that worried King Lionel, though something—yay, seerling—told me this wasn’t it. It had something to do with Kael, I dared think. Better not pry. The king’s worries were none of my business.
Then I saw him.
Kael. In his black, leather-belted tunic, as if wizard robes were too modest for him.
He was deep in conversation with Selena. A conversation I had apparently interrupted.
The moment she saw me, she excused herself, and then his gaze found mine and everything changed.
Fool that I was, I curtsied.
What in the nine hells?
As if he were some prince from a ballad and not the man who could smite Befest into ash with a thought. My body moved before my brain caught up, and now my brain was desperately pleading to the gods of embarrassment to make me look less stupid.
Did I really just curtsy to the Court Wizard?
Next time, maybe I’d throw myself at his boots for good measure.
His eyes changed, dark, threatening clouds behind them, and for a moment I was certain lightning would strike if I didn’t move. I stepped back, heart pounding, but he followed with that quiet, unbearable intensity. His gaze pinned me like prey.
All I felt was fear, pure and instinctive, because I knew he could end me with a thought, with a flick of his hand. It looked like he wanted to.
And gods help me, that made me more intrigued than terrified.
I wasn’t afraid. Not really.
I was… excited? Thrilled?
Aroused?
Gods.
I cursed myself. I didn’t want to feel this way, not about him. Not about a man who held more power than I ever would, in the Court or in magic. That kind of power was never safe.
And then there were Lo’s words, echoing like a warning.
They never come out quite right.
The women. The ones Kael apparently brought to his chambers.
Whatever that meant, I didn’t want to think about it.
Had he noticed the chaos in my head just now? The way he looked at me, that flash of anger in his blue eyes—it was like I’d done something unforgivable.
If anything, it was proof enough that Kael Forloren, the Court Wizard, truly didn’t like me.
I just hated myself for wanting him so. And worse, I didn’t even know what I wanted. In that moment, when he had me cornered, his face so close, I wanted to know what would happen if I closed the distance.
Thank the gods for Lo’s arrival. He interrupted something that would have either destroyed me or humiliated me beyond repair. Kael Forloren was a disaster waiting to happen.
If I wanted to keep my post, I needed to avoid him.
Avoid him and the hunger that coiled low in my stomach every time he looked at me.
“Evie. Darling, you went glass-eyed again.” Lo’s voice snapped me back to reality. “What just happened?”
A question I wished I had the answer to.
I shrugged, mumbling something that could be summarized as nothing.
“Sure…” Lo sighed, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, let’s find Bram before I wither from suspense. We still need to tell him about the village.”
“He’s in the courtyard.”
“Why would he be in the courtyard? It’s raining.”
I shrugged again. We’d find out soon enough.
We shuffled out of the council wing, past the tapestries and down the grand staircase.
A broad processional descent draped in dark blue carpet, twin flights curving inward to a central landing before merging into a single sweep toward the hall below.
My hand ran along the cold marble rail as we descended.
On the landing, a narrow opening gave a glimpse of the audience hall, its marble throne empty and lonely in the dim light.
At the bottom, corridors branched off toward the kitchens and storerooms. A warm draft carried bread heat and wood smoke.
Guards nodded as we passed. They didn’t like magisters, as though we were all competing for the king’s approval, but at least they respected us. Or feared us. Same thing, really.
Before us stood the studded oak doors that opened to the inner courtyard. They groaned as the guards pulled them wide, and the noise of the outside rushed in. Hooves, shouts, orders.
I stepped out, the air cool against my face.
The rain had stopped for now, though the cobblestones still gleamed silver with it.
My breath steamed as I scanned the yard for Bram.
He was there by the stables, surrounded by guards and discussing with stablemasters who prepared carts and horses.
He wore a long brown coat with the hood still up, rain beading off the fabric, his dark frizzy hair barely contained beneath it.
Even under the gray sky, Bram looked like a ray of sunshine.
“Find an oilcloth to cover these crates!” he bellowed to a stableboy. “We’re sending grain to Bretannia, not soup!”
He spotted us. “Evie! And the scribe himself gracing us with his presence!” He bowed theatrically.
“In the flesh,” Lo said with mock pride. “How goes it, Chancellor?”
“Business as usual.” Bram patted one of the carts. “Grain for Bretannia at dawn.” He turned to me, his tone softening. “Did you speak with Tomas Brack?”
“Yes.” I hesitated. “Bram, there’s something we need to talk about.”
“Uh oh. That’s never good. Should I sit down first?”
I shook my head, and we stepped under the stable roof for a little shelter from any potential drizzle.
We told him everything. About the diseased crops, the dark vines, the dead goat. The mountain. I said I needed his leave to investigate, though really, I was simply informing him I would.
Concern flickered across his face. The plague had taken much from him, and even a man like Bram, who always carried laughter in his pockets, could still fear its return.
“Be careful, Evie,” he said quietly. “We don’t know what’s out there.”
“And that’s exactly why I have to find out,” I said. “I’ll question the farmers, see what they’ve seen. Maybe someone knows more.”
“Just don’t go to the mountain alone.”
I sighed. “Yes, Chancellor.” I could be reckless at times, but I wasn’t witless.
“Keep me posted.”
“Of course.”
We were about to leave. I turned toward the castle, the sky already deepening into dusk. All I wanted was to lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling until sleep or madness took me.
It had been a long day.
Bram called after me. “And, Evie, enjoy dinner tonight!” His smile beamed again.
What dinner?
I looked at Lo, confused, and then it hit me.
The magisters’ dinner.
Gods. I’d completely forgotten. I was hopeless at remembering such things, which, of course, also reminded me of the upcoming Academy Ball.
So much for an evening spent staring at the ceiling.
“Ah. That dinner. Right,” I said. “Will do.”
Lo snorted softly as we turned back toward the castle. I had some gathering of wits to do if I wanted to survive tonight.
“You forgot the magister’s dinner, didn’t you?” Lo said, smirking like a cat that had found the cream.
“It’s written all over my face, isn’t it?”
“Written, signed, and sealed,” he replied, following me down the corridor.
We reached my chambers on the second floor, where each magister kept their private quarters.
Mine was modest by court standards, yet large enough to make the cottage I’d grown up in feel like a broom closet.
A carved oak door opened onto a small solar with a hearth, a low table, and a cushioned sofa draped in wool.
An oak writing desk stood by the arched window, strewn with parchment, half-dried ink, and quills that had seen better days.
By most measures, I was a tidy person, but my desk was a battlefield.
Shelves climbed the walls, crowded with my old academy books arranged either by subject or by colour, depending on my mood that day.
Beyond the solar, my bedchamber lay half-hidden behind a curtain. The bed was layered in furs against the castle’s chill, with a carved chest at its foot and a mirror standing by the bathing nook. The windows stayed shut, as the Befest wind was sharp enough to freeze my bones.
I still hadn’t grown used to it. My home was Sud, where the sun blessed every season.
A city of warm stone and open sky, where columns rose like spears of light and the streets thrummed with life from dawn until the stars reclaimed the heavens.
Sud breathed history with every step, fountains older than dynasties, markets with a thousand colors, arches that had watched empires rise and fall.
Sometimes I felt as though I had traded a world of sunlit marble for one of rain.
Lo threw his tabard onto the sofa and dropped onto it with theatrical exhaustion.
I’d asked him to come mostly because I didn’t want to face the rest of the afternoon—or my nerves—alone.
With a lazy flick of his hand, the hearth burst to life, flames dancing across the logs.
He undid the ribbon binding his hair, shaking it loose until it shimmered like black silk in the firelight.
Lo was handsome. His elven heritage softened his traits, contributing to his natural charm. High cheekbones, faintly pointed ears, hazel eyes too golden for any human shade. He knew it too, and he wielded that beauty like a blade.
“I know it’s your first magisters’ dinner,” he said, reaching telekinetically for a pouch from the shelf above the hearth, “but don’t fret.
They’re tame once the wine starts flowing.
” He popped a walnut into his mouth. “Lots of food and Lutessian red all night. And then everyone wonders why the gutters are starving.”
I arched a brow. “So I’m meant to drink myself into serenity?”
“That’s the trick,” he said, grinning with a mouthful of walnut.
I didn’t usually drink much. Alcohol, like Kael, was a disaster waiting to happen. But I did like Lutessian red wine. I made a mental note to pace myself.
I turned to my desk, gathering the piles of parchment into some semblance of order.
Most were half-written reports for Bram, drafts I’d soon consign to the fire.
Kael would be there tonight, and the thought of facing him twisted my stomach.
And Lo wouldn’t even be there to keep me from dying of nerves.
I was suddenly furious that scribes weren’t invited to these stupid dinners.
When I looked up, he was studying me. “What else did you sense in the mountain?” he asked, his tone softer now.
I sighed. I had to disappoint him. Aside from a few fleeting images, I hadn’t seen much else.
Echoes were not accustomed to explaining themselves.
“Only that something dark stirs there. I saw the goat’s death but nothing more.
Nothing substantial.” I stacked the last sheet and straightened.
“I’ll return to the village tomorrow. But first, dinner. ”
He chuckled. “Try not to wear that face at the table, or they’ll think you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Oh, come on.” I caught my reflection in the mirror across the bedchamber and grimaced. “I don’t look that dreadful.”
Lo stood with a dramatic sigh, crossing the room as if called by destiny itself. “You look fine, darling. You just need the right smile.”
He demonstrated, lips curling into one of those devastating grins he usually reserved for tavern patrons. “Like this. Warm, mysterious, capable of making even Thalen the Battlemage forget how to scowl.”
I laughed despite myself. “That smile could win kingdoms.”
“For the next hour,” he said grandly, “I shall make a Lady of the Court out of you.”
And so we practiced smiles, some meant to charm, some to disarm, some to conquer, and some to survive an evening of magisters.
And for the first time since seeing Kael that day, I truly relaxed and enjoyed the moment.