Chapter 3
S mall flashes of my magic light up the leaves in the tree I’ve climbed. “Take this one, Akilah.”
“Must we really collect syrup here ? There are trees in the city.”
“Not this kind. This tree is rare. It makes the best taffy.”
“Great. We’re not just pilfering royal syrup, we’re pilfering precious royal syrup. Have you not heard the phrase ‘off with his head’?”
“Look at all those stains! That’s years of syrup gone to waste. Years of delicious taffy that never came into existence.”
“You and your taffy!”
“Let the whole world know: I love taffy!”
“The difference between syrups is barely noticeable. Are you sure you didn’t come back here for... other reasons?”
“Ha!”
A deep voice rumbles from below, startling me. “You love taffy more than life?”
Akilah yelps. I lose my balance and tumble.
I just manage to plant a foot on a broad shoulder and launch myself back onto the branch. “Arcane Sovereign!” I gasp, clutching the trunk.
I peer around. And nearly fall again.
Those lips pressed tight. That unimpressed stare at the fresh boot print now decorating his spotless cloak.
My breath catches.
He steers his horse a step closer, just enough to flick my nose with a single finger.
“Maskios!” I wince-laugh. “We meet again.”
“Not my name.”
“Who are you then?” I hang further off the branch. “Are you really a criminal?”
He tries to flick me again, but I swing out of reach.
“You can call me... Calix Solin,” he says.
“Sure, Maskios. I’ll do that.”
He glares. “I travel here a few times a year to study. From Hinsard.”
“A scholar from Hinsard.” I reach for one of his braids, lift it, and breathe in the scent of magic—just like I did the first time. And the second. The scent fascinates me. I want to... understand.
“Why hide your true appearance, then?”
Calix regrips his reins, meeting my gaze head-on. “I have trouble with unwanted attention. My magnetic beauty becomes problematic. Like Skeldars.”
I laugh and drop the braid. “I’m part Skeldar. Does that mean I have magnetic beauty?”
Calix jerks his horse back a step and looks away.
I glance up at Akilah. “What do you think? Am I handsome?”
“No,” she says serenely. “You’re extremely pretty.”
I murmur, “Why don’t I have trouble with unwanted attention?”
She tosses down the answer without hesitation. “You scare all the girls off by ‘testing’ spells on me in front of them. They’re afraid of their own faces coming to ruin.”
I frown. “I haven’t noticed any girls.”
I glance back at Calix and the aklo riding with him, noting their leathers and the curved sticks they carry.
“You play drakopagon?” I ask. “Are you any good?”
Calix lets out a scoff.
“Veronica is forever urging me to practice. Come forward a few steps?”
His jaw tightens. “Why?”
“Three steps should do it. I can drop in front of you or behind. Take your pick.”
With a muttered curse, Calix moves his horse and taps my rump with the curved end of his drakopala.
He glances at his aklo and sighs. “Give him your horse. Go back.”
I drop into the saddle, syrup-sticky hands gripping the reins. Calix casts me a long, wary glance—like he still isn’t sure why he’s doing this and dare not imagine what will happen next.
I wiggle my fingers. “Syrup’s a bit sticky.”
He flicks a lazy finger. Magic swirls, cleansing and efficient.
I sigh. “What a waste.” I lift a knuckle to my mouth. “Should’ve been licked clean.”
Calix slams his eyes shut and spurs his horse forward.
When we arrive at the drakopagon pitch, a half-dozen young men are riding hard, tossing a tied-up bundle toward a hoop at one end. They’re laughing, whooping.
But over the din, a sound pierces through.
Meowling.
Calix and I frown, searching for the source.
Our gazes land on the bundle.
My heart drops.
I urge my horse over the low fence and canter toward them.
“Give me that cat.”
“Get off the pitch,” one growls. “It’s ours.”
“You’re torturing it.”
“No one wants to drop it. It adds stakes to the game. Better for practice.”
“How’d you like to be tied up and thrown around for fun?”
Calix rides up beside me. “Release the cat. At once.”
The youths snicker. “Who do you think you are? King?”
“Who do you think you are?” I snap. “Rich bullies with nothing better to do?”
One swings his drakopala at my face—I duck.
“We’re all first-born sons of high-ranking officials! We’ll be running the court someday!”
Enough.
I wheel toward the one holding the bundle, toss out a sleeping spell— He slumps in the saddle.
I catch the cat.
And immediately we’re under fire. Nasty spells come flying.
Calix charges into the throng, blocking each one. “Get to the woods.”
I obey, galloping hard, heart in my throat.
One glance over my shoulder. A spell slices through Calix’s sleeve.
At the clearing, I pace, stomach knotted. Watching every shadow.
He comes on the whisper of wind and hooves—upright, composed. But his eyes spark as soon as he sees me.
He halts his horse hard.
I pat the bundle at my chest, the cat now safe in a makeshift sling. I offer a smile, slide my horse closer, and nudge his foot from the stirrup. I lean over and carefully tuck the sling’s strap around his neck.
“There-there. Maskios has money. He’ll take care of you.”
I return to my seat and raise a brow. “Why are you glaring at me like that?”
“That was dangerous. You risked your life. For a cat. ”
“They might’ve killed it!”
“You can’t save everyone!”
I turn so we’re side by side. “I can try.”
“Sometimes you shouldn’t . Sometimes you just have to make hard choices. Not everything can be saved.”
“How defeatist.”
“They would’ve spelled you from your horse. You’d have been trampled. Killed. And in the end, it wouldn’t matter. You’re just par-linea .”
Just par-linea.
The words slice sharper than any spell.
I rear back, my horse shifting beneath me. “Just par-linea.”
The ache is sudden. Raw.
“That’s the truth.”
Leaves rustle around us.
The cat meows softly from his chest.
I slide off the horse. My hands tremble as I pass him the reins.
I don’t look at him.
As soon as the reins leave my fingers, I bow my head.
And walk away.