10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
T he pixie didn’t deign to say anything about her magic or sigils as she pulled her sleeves back down, and Imani didn’t ask.
After a long pause of silence, she gave Imani a sly smile. “What’s your name, elf witch?”
“Meira Aowyn.”
“Esadora Farwyn. But call me Esa?—”
A commotion outside made them both startle. In the next instant, they clambered out of the coach.
Up ahead, Master Grey climbed onto the coach’s roof with the grace of a predator. Pushing out his palm, he cast with a methodically practiced form.
“What is he doing?” Esa whispered after another minute. “Those shields are miles long. There are at least a hundred spells, some older than the Order, and most can’t be fully disabled by one witch, nor should they need to be. There are easier ways to enter the city.”
Imani suspected the same. Swallowing hard, she gave Esa a sidelong glance. “He’s not disabling them, though. He’s smashing a hole.”
“But why? The power it will take to hold it open for us to pass, then to fix the wards again …” Esa trailed off.
Only a master could. The city had been well protected for centuries because of it.
“Saints alive,” Esa muttered. “It would be easier for us to go through the main gates instead of pulling on the Fabric and sending someone out here to repair the damage. Why are we entering this way?”
Imani agreed it was odd. “I’ve heard that no one passes the wards and goes into Stralas without the Order and the queen’s knowledge.”
“It’s true,” Esa said.
Unease passed between them as they silently came to the same conclusion—the Crown had planned this roundabout entrance. They were to enter through a back way, and the damage had been sanctioned to ensure the witches arrived in relative anonymity.
“Maybe they want to avoid creating large crowds coming out to see us? Witches are a rarity,” Esa whispered.
“It’s possible. Or is this way somehow faster?” Imani questioned.
Esa shrugged.
It didn’t appear the others had put the pieces together. Heads peeked out of carriages with excitement, and people pointed in awe like fools. But Imani and Esa stood frozen, confused. A sense of wrongness swirled inside her, and Imani seriously questioned what the apprentices were here for and why.
A massive cracking sound, like thousands of trees being torn down, stunned everyone into silence.
Master Grey clenched his outstretched hand, and more magic poured out of him. Bright red and orange sparks rained above and beneath the canopy of the trees, using terrestrial and defensive magic to cut an arch through the invisible shield. They lit up the dull gray afternoon as he tore through the tranche of spells making up the massive wards surrounding the city. The disruption caused the shrubs and trees beyond to ripple, their leaves blurring together and swirling wildly in distortion.
Imani’s hands trembled while he decimated the shield in minutes, melting a hole straight through. Desire reared its head deep from the recesses of her mind. A low growl threatened in her chest. She didn’t know if she wanted him or his power. Maybe both.
Another push of his free hand sent energy ropes shooting out as he attacked all the weak spots with enchantments of some kind. The shields broke and fell away in quick succession. He’d used at least three different magic abilities simultaneously—an impressive feat.
With a jerk of his chin, still holding tight to the magic, the witch signaled to his guard.
This one appeared to be in charge. His uniform was decorated with more regalia than anyone else’s, but unlike the others, Imani sensed he wasn’t a complete idiot and worked closely with Master Grey. One time, they smiled and laughed together, giving her the distinct impression the two might be friends.
The two women swiftly slid back inside their coach as it lurched forward, passing through the tunnel the master held open.
When they approached the threshold, Imani blatantly stared at him. A thick, burned scent hung in the air—the aftereffects of his magic. Low humming and a crackling noise emanated from the tunnel, surrounding them as they drew closer. Only a tiny wrinkle across his strong brow hinted at his concentration. Nevertheless, the magic appeared to be well within his range.
Even if the Order had given him the knowledge to break through, to wield such taxing, physically demanding magic, it impressed her. He must be an incredibly apt witch.
A knot tightened in her stomach. Imani had a mountain of secrets to hide from the powerful magic wielders here, of which this master witch was only one.
Bright, piercing gray eyes whipped her way, and he locked gazes with her momentarily. A smile almost slipped through. It was anything but friendly. On the contrary, the look said, I have my eye on you.
Heat shot through Imani’s spine, but warning bells went off in her head. She held his eyes until the angle was too great to stare at him without craning her neck.
“Our master prefers elves. But who doesn’t, right?”
Imani pursed her lips, uncomfortable at Esa noticing the exchange. “I doubt it. We’ve hardly spoken.”
Esa shrugged. They fell back into silence. Was she jealous? Probably not, but Imani had just met her.
Once inside the city’s outer limits, the apprentices were herded into smaller groups, splitting off to take different roads leading to various entry points into Stralas.
Even on the outskirts, it got louder. The streets were narrower, with neighborhoods, shops, and buildings growing more extensive and crowded. Stealing a look outside, Imani gripped the edge of the window. She couldn’t take her eyes off the bustling streets as they painstakingly entered the city’s confines. Their pace slowed as their party was hemmed in by milling people, carriages, and livestock.
Imani lost herself in the cacophony—markets, crowds, shouts, bleating sheep and goats, and rickety carriage wheels—as they jostled toward the peninsula’s highest point. They climbed higher, and the homes and buildings became more opulent and elegant.
A regal palace stood tall over the endless Neshuin Sea as they halted at the base of the hill.
Guards perched at their watches, high in several of the many towers lining the walls of the gates, idly glancing at the handful of new Order witches approaching. These appeared to be a more severe caliber than the ones accompanying them, their gazes steely and unflinching.
A guard leaned out of a tower and shouted to another to let them in. The gates creaked loudly as they obliged.
“Keep the gate open!” another guard shouted down. “The prince approaches from the south!”
Imani and Esa whipped their heads toward the other window, hoping to glimpse the heir apparent.
“Ah … it took two damn hours to get up here. Extra royal security for the spoiled arsehole.” Esa glanced at Imani. “What do you know about him? Rumor has it only the truly hedonistic can run with the prince’s inner circle. Staying up all night, gambling away all his mother’s money, and bedding anyone.” Esa’s eyes were amused.
“Lies,” Imani shot back wryly, a smirk tugging at her lips. “One person can’t gamble away all the queen’s money. There’s far too much for one person to spend in their lifetime.”
“Well, the bastard is trying.”
“I heard he’s also actually a talented master witch. At sixteen, he was one of the youngest to pass the assessments.”
Esa played with a string on her dress. “Well, some say the queen is concerned the prince isn’t powerful enough. His mother thinks another kind will inherit the monarchy after her death.”
The Pareias were an old high-bred leimoniads nymph family from the Meadowlands, who had shocked the kingdom forty years ago when Queen Dialora broke a three-hundred-year streak of various shifters being in power.
Nymphs hadn’t held the Crown in centuries.
“Where did you hear all these rumors?”
“I’ve visited the court a hundred times to see my brother. You hear things.”
So many questions arose in Imani. A hundred times? Her brother? Esa wasn’t the most powerful witch they’d collected, but she came close. With seven markings and a circle around her blue moth sigil, the only creature more powerful ended up being a nine-mark high leonine shifter. Imani had seven marks, of course, but had to pretend to have five.
“Did you train here? With your magic?”
“No. My brother taught me.”
“He must be talented. Most people here don’t know much beyond their own breeds or abilities.” Most people were like her sister.
“Was. My brother was talented. He had eight markings.” Facing out the window, Esa’s face remained unreadable. “He died taking his assessment.”
Silence fell. The gates closed as they entered the palace grounds with Imani’s mind reeling.
A trained eight-mark died ? Esa’s assertion they were marching to their death wasn’t so dramatic anymore.
Female witches each had their own rooms. Esa entered hers without a goodbye, but the whole palace distracted Imani too much to notice.
The gleaming white walls towered over the rest of the buildings, standing right on the end of the peninsula over the sea with a maze of gardens and courtyards surrounding it. Imani’s apartment was more incredible than any she’d ever seen, even for the east wing , which Esa made sound barely nicer than the stables. Servants brought Imani’s belongings. Maids helped her bathe and prepare for sleep.
Although exhausted, she woke repeatedly throughout the night, drenched in sweat. Dreams of her sister sobbing, more real than any dreams she’d had before, clenched her heart tight. Every time she shut her eyes, the pain shocked her limbs, and she, too, had tears running down her face. All night, she’d feared she’d let them both down, that something was gravely wrong with Dak and Meira.
But they were only dreams.
In the morning, they were all but forgotten as a knock on her door slammed her back into reality. A steward stood outside.
“Lady Aowyn, your presence is requested before the others. I’m to escort you as soon as possible.”
Several maids filed in without waiting for a response, bustling about to get her dressed.
Standing in her robe, she crossed her arms. “This early? As you can see, I’ve only just risen. I’m not ready.”
The servant cleared his throat. “I must insist, my lady.” He handed her a piece of paper and crossed his white-gloved hands behind his back.
Unfolding it, one sentence in a looping script greeted her.
Time to answer some of those unwanted questions.
It was signed, Master Grey.
The servant bowed then quietly went into the hall to wait for her.
No one had ever bowed to Imani. She liked it more than she should.