Chapter 9
Isca
The guards beyond the gate knew me on sight.
One, recognizable by his crooked nose and limp, offered me a curt nod and silently stepped aside.
He’d helped pull the cart off my father when it had pinned him against the wall.
I’d seen the others before, as well, and their familiarity nearly let me forget I was stepping into something I might not survive.
But my heart didn’t. It was thumping like a spooked mare on the run, and beads of sweat trailed down my back. My father had insisted that this summons was about offering me work. Yet surrounded by the cold, damp stone walls, his reassurances felt like a distant fantasy.
The inner corridor’s breeze almost pulled the lavender sprig from my braid. I fixed it back in place. It was a piece of home, proof that I came from love, however poor and messy that love might be, and a small token of defiance against their standards of perfection.
A tall, lean man in dark robes stood sentinel at the grand stairway. With a quick look at me, he wordlessly extended his hand, palm up. Puzzled, I handed over the letter. Wrinkling his nose as if it had an offensive odor, he examined the seal closely.
I was already reading him before his mouth turned down in a frown. Disdain rolled off him. To him, I was an insignificant insect, making a nuisance of myself inside these noble halls. Too bad I didn’t have a stinger.
It was exactly what I’d expected. Even so, it hurt.
Still holding my letter, he turned and started walking sedately up the stairs without a glance back. He didn’t introduce himself or even make certain I was the right woman.
Despite my apprehension, I rushed to walk beside him, chin high, carefully placing my feet on the cold, polished stones. The further we went, the more I felt the vibrating hum of magic in the walls, like lightning caged inside each stone. The keep was alive with it.
But his judgment drowned out the awe I should’ve felt.
His contempt tried to sink down into every pore so it could poison me with self-doubt.
Still, my anger at his dismissal couldn’t completely overshadow my doubts, which were growing the higher we rose.
What if I were in trouble? Had the messenger lied?
Had the executioner told them the true extent of my power?
Was this horrible mage a sign that things would only get worse?
My throat tightened around the questions clawing for escape.
But I refused to be a slave to my anxiety. So I swallowed every question along with my trepidation. I’d find out what I was in for soon enough.
We reached a wide door made of dark, iron-bound wood at the top of the stairs. My guide didn’t knock, just slipped inside like he belonged—leaving me hesitating on the threshold, like I didn’t.
Frustration—at myself, at the childish behavior of a grown man—flared in my chest. I channeled it into a small burst of magic that spurred what had to be the chancellor’s heavy door open all the way.
If the mages wanted me in the heart of their fortress, I could damn well act like one.
The chancellor’s spacious office had surprisingly understated decor.
The only nod to his wealth were the several braziers crackling softly, smelling of costly apple wood chips, and thick curtains that let in slits of light from the narrow windows set into the stone walls.
No tapestries or grand paintings decorated the space.
Only neatly stacked books filled the cabinets flanking his desk, custom-made for the purpose.
Behind the desk sat a man whose presence reverberated like a warning in my bones. I straightened instinctively.
The chancellor pulsed with enough power to vibrate the air around him. Though his wasn’t as potent as the executioner’s, which had been so powerful it had completely shoved the air aside. He looked up, studying me with...amusement?
“Ah, Pasgen,” the chancellor said, glancing at my guide. “You’ve delivered her in one piece.”
Pasgen. Of course. The scribe who’s written the damned letter inviting me.
I turned a reproving look his way.
Pasgen’s shoulders tensed the moment our eyes locked. Wretched cad.
He abruptly turned and left without saying a word, the door clicking shut behind him.
The first thing the chancellor said took me by surprise. “You’re Heleth and Taig’s daughter.”
Hearing my parents’ names made my hackles rise. It wasn’t anger, but it was pretty close. The Assembly hadn’t truly honored my father’s service, not by a long shot, but I couldn’t let the chancellor know how I felt about that.
He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit.”
I put on my best demure mask, batted my eyelashes, and said, “Yes, Lord Chancellor.”
His warm, disarming smile hid a shocking emotional emptiness. I felt nothing—no doubt, no tension, no judgement. Emotionally, he was as unreadable as a fence post. Exactly like the executioner.
This was risky because I couldn’t tailor my answers to suit his mood.
He took his time making space on the desk in front of him, pushing books and inkwells aside. I waited, still sweating, trying to control my breathing enough that he wouldn’t notice that I was terrified. His shuffling seemed to stretch on forever, and the frantic drumming of my heart faded.
He folded his hands and smiled. “Mage Isca. It is nice to finally meet you.”
“It’s my honor, Lord Chancellor.” I sat erect, outwardly fearless as I waited to hear of my fate. “Your message was rather nondescript, Lord. Why am I here?”
“We have a job for you.”
“My father suspected as much.”
The chancellor chuckled lightly. “I highly doubt your father guessed the extent of the proposal.”
“Hence the secrecy?”
He nodded once. “Do you remember being tested when you reached your age of majority?”
“Yes…”
“Apparently, you’re capable of projecting emotions onto others and concocting emotion-affecting elixirs without the need to renew the magic they hold.
That’s quite the unique gift. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t come to my attention sooner.
” Then a malicious shadow seemed to pass over his face, and my heart stopped beating.
When he spoke next, the pressure of his words, laced with dark magic, bore down on me.
It felt like it was pressing me to the seat with a thousand pounds of force.
“However, I’m afraid your magical outburst in the market proved that you might’ve lied to us about your strength. ”
No, no, no.
“Based on what we have in our records about strong empaths… I’m going to drop my mental barriers, and you’re going to describe my emotions accurately. A test, of sorts.”
Denial was already on the tip of my tongue. “What? I can’t—”
“If you fail, there will be consequences. Not lethal ones, because we might be wrong. But…painful, nonetheless. For the inconvenience of bringing you here. Understood?” There was still a smile on his outwardly genial face, but now it had fangs.
“Y-Yes, Lord Chancellor.”
His walls disappeared without a sound, but the way his emotions flooded the room should’ve been heralded by a clap of thunder.
“You’re hungry and tired. Probably didn’t sleep well last night. You miss…someone.”
His intense stare made me uneasy. “Be explicit, Mage Isca.”
I gestured vaguely at the desk in front of him, cheeks burning. “Probably a woman.”
For a heartbeat, everything stilled except for the crackling braziers. Then his satisfaction coiled through the air like a hand closing around mine to see if I’d flinch.
A new smile splashed onto his face, and his walls rose again. “Good. You passed.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. Passing this test felt less like a victory and more like the cold steel of shackles coming down on my wrists.
He went on. “We want you to act as a sort of…diplomat.”
“A diplomat?” I repeated, surprised. In my experience, that word was only used for very important men with the highest levels of training. Never women, and especially not women like me.
“We require your services as an emotionally neutral…mediator for the princes of Darreth. They rarely agree, and one is especially…volatile.”
“Princes?” I sputtered.
He gave another nod. “The Mage Assembly is concerned about Darreth. The twin-rule arrangement the late king set up might seem noble, but it’s unraveling everything we’ve tried to hold together. A kingdom without a clear ruler breeds instability.”
I really didn’t know much about Darreth other than that it was a prosperous, ancient kingdom to the west, rich in agriculture and fish stocks. In my twenty-four years, I’d rarely left Caervorn.
“Your job,” Maeron continued, “will be to help the princes reach an accord. Help them choose who will be the sole ruler. We’ve sent others, but each…failed. Your skill at projecting emotions might be the thing we need.”
The way he said failed…
“Chancellor, is—” My throat wanted to close around the words. “Is their conflict violent?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Well…” He seemed to think about his answer. “Not exactly. But their constant disagreements must cease.”
“Lord, the way you say it… It doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”
“Your family won’t suffer,” he said simply, a phrase so coldly efficient it might as well have been a threat. “Your father lost his leg in our employ. He is receiving a good sum every month. That will continue.”
That made me pause. Mother had always collected his retirement but never said how much.
My face must’ve given me away because he spoke again, answering the question I hadn’t yet formulated. “Ah, I suppose you don’t know about your sister?”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“The one in the south is pregnant again. A blight affected their farm last season, so your mother has been sending coin.”
My jaw dropped in shock. “How do you know that?”
“We intercept magical correspondence, Mage Isca. Tracking money and information is invaluable when someone becomes interesting. Someone like you.”