Chapter Two #3
“By order of the King,” said the Captain — not unkindly exactly, but rather indifferently, his overbright eyes already roving the room once more.
They slid past silent Roy and petrified Tanner with little interest, and landed on the twinkling little tree in the corner.
I hated that the sudden light in his eyes turned them the same deep, crisp green as its beautiful pine needles.
And then he boomed out a laugh.
“What a charming little twig.”
My grip flexed, the edges of the star biting into my palms. He moved toward the tree and I stepped sideways into his path.
“May I ask why you’re commandeering my inn?”
His eyes flicked to mine, and when my magic abruptly thrashed against my hold, I found myself glad for the star shielding my fiery chest.
What in the world was that?
I set my jaw, and steadied my breathing.
“You may ask –” the Captain began.
But at the same moment, a barrel chested soldier near the door spoke up, his voice a sour rumble; “Where’ve you been the last few years, woman? There’s a Serpent on the loose.”
Captain Caelan gave a low growl of warning, but it was Brennan who amended, wincing: “What Fischer means to say is, we’re searching for an escaped shapeshifter.”
Somehow, I doubted it was so much the colloquialism as the general revelation of their mission that the Captain hadn’t wanted us to hear.
It was too late. My blood had gone cold, moving through my veins with sluggish horror.
Everyone heard about the breach in the late King’s dungeons a few years back, but it had never occurred to me that they were still tracking the poor creature, after all this time.
There may have been something to Tanner’s gossip after all.
Because these men were hunting a Class X magic user.
Without deciding to, I swayed slightly to one side, shielding Sorcha from view of the soldiers.
Earthmagic was not illegal, nor was firemagic.
Most covens fell into the B and C categories; monitored, but not subdued – not by law.
Even so, witches seemed to find themselves in trouble more often than the average person.
It was why my parents had chosen this life, safe among the quiet shelter of farmers and homesteaders, the expression of our magic reduced from rites and rituals to everyday conveniences.
Carefully, I spiralled my awareness outward, reaching for the little shards of my Flame that lit various lanterns and sconces around the tavern. With a sickening jolt, I realised just how much firemagic I’d used today; a cluster of it shimmered and hummed above my head.
My eyes flitted up to the ceiling, the glass orbs glowing merrily with little embers of my own magic. It was only a split-second, but when I forced my gaze down to the Captain’s, he had his head tilted curiously at me. Mercifully, he didn’t follow my line of sight – just raised a dark brow.
“The individual we’re looking for is a danger to both the crown and the kingdom. You’d do well to make this easy for us, Rosie.”
“Rosaleen,” I snapped. “And unless I’m much mistaken, it doesn’t seem as though I have a choice.”
Even though I didn’t frame it as a question, he seemed to hear my doubt; at least he had the decency to respond to it.
“You do not,” he confirmed.
I clenched my jaw.
“Well then,” I gritted out through teeth bared in a forced smile. “Welcome to The Mage and Rose. How long will you be with us?”
The Captain smirked, scar tugging at his lip.
He swaggered forward, and I felt Sorcha fall back a half step – but I held my ground, chin high.
The Captain came so close we were almost toe to toe before he reached forward and took hold of the star in my arms. I considered clutching it tighter just to be stubborn, but then his thumb brushed the back of my hand and my Flame gave a wild lurch through my hold, searing the air in my lungs.
Breath ripped violently through me and I let go at once.
I stared up at him, but he didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss.
I could only watch, dazed and shocked as he strolled toward my beloved little tree – and snapped off a branch.
Outrage rose in my chest, but I still could not move for shock.
As though she could read me, Sorcha’s hand circled my wrist and held me still, and the gesture did not go unnoticed.
The Captain glanced at my wrist, spared me a raised brow – then stuffed the snapped branch into the base of the star.
And without ceremony, without any of the joy, or warmth, or festive cheer of my sacred family memories, he slid both star and branch onto the flimsy treetop.
He stepped back and gestured at the massive star crowning my little tree, hands and grin spreading wide as if to say: You’re welcome.
I didn’t return his smile, not even when Sorcha’s hand flexed around my wrist or when Roy awkwardly cleared his throat, Tanner stiffer than ever at his side. I was too shaken to move, too angry to risk words. I could only stare, cold as stone.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, until the Captain finally dropped his hands and forced a breath through his bristled lips. He turned, hands on his hips, and surveyed his work.
“We’ll be here as long as it takes, Rosie.”