Chapter 38
The Mages Consortium—or what remained of it—still smelled of smoke days after what had been creatively named ‘The Great Fire’ by the council of Mages. Seventy-eight people suffered injuries, but miraculously no one died, and the healers expected those injured to fully recover.
The most grievous damages were to the castle itself, which, even with the boon of magic, would take weeks, or likely months to repair.
Worse yet—several priceless magical relics and tomes had burned to ash.
In the many meetings that followed the Great Fire, some would argue the priority should have been to save those historic items rather than the Mages.
And in said meetings Alandris would tell those who argued such to kindly go fuck themselves.
Of course, I’d not been a part of the Mage’s meetings, or I would have said worse.
I spent my time helping the injured and creating poultices for burns from calendula and yarrow.
My hands were red and raw from grinding the herbs to a paste over and over, but I’d never complain.
They’d suffered worse—blistering oozing burns—and when I couldn’t stop myself from thinking the thought—because of me.
They’d suffered because someone had wanted to hurt me.
“What else can I do?” Kaz asked, rolling up another wad of hastily made bandages we’d cut off from the cleanest fabric we could find and boil.
“You can sit down since you’re a patient who shouldn’t be doing anything.
” I gave him a look I hoped conveyed that I didn’t think he was sly pitching in with minor tasks here and there as if I wouldn’t notice.
“You have some of the worst burns out of everyone in this tent. Doctor’s orders were for you to rest and relax, and also, not bother the doctor. ”
Kaz groaned, as he had every time I’d scolded him for the same reasons. “It’s not in my nature to sit here and do nothing while everyone fusses around me.”
Relenting was not what I should have been doing, but Kaz had a way with his words and smiles.
“This is heartveil mushroom,” I said, handing him a basket full of tiny, green, bulbous shrooms. “The stems are bitter, but you can boil the caps to make a pain-relieving tea. Can you pluck the stems off for me?”
He snatched the basket from me before I could change my mind—a victorious grin plastered on his face—and I left him to his work while I tended to other patients.
My work on the Phoenix Heart tending to seafaring wounds had served me well.
Although the Consortium employed some Mages skilled in healing, the fire had injured two, leaving the others overwhelmed by the sheer number of patients.
My little bit of knowledge from my pirating days had quickly promoted me to the healer’s tent.
It was good. I needed to keep my mind busy.
Three days after the fire Lorian and Mak returned from sea, and a day after that Jyuri returned with Zorinna, though based on the look on his face—he’d not done so willingly.
Each moved into their roles effortlessly—Lorian and Mak joining Kaelias in transporting and distributing the supplies to repair the castle’s damages, and Jyuri and Zorinna working on strategy with Alandris.
We kept to ourselves mostly, sleeping where we worked in our makeshift tents and temporary homes, too busy to check in on one another. It was fine. Busy hands made busy minds. No time to think about what had happened, or what all we’d lost.
Part of me didn’t want to see them—the same part of me that hated looking at Kaz with his legs covered in burns.
It was the same part that understood death followed me wherever I went like moth to flame, and inevitably those around me would suffer for it.
I’d promised to stop thinking like that, and I tried not to, but it felt like an impossible feat. So, I ignored it instead—let it fester.
“The Grand Arch Magus has requested your presence at his tent,” one of the healer’s said, passing me a letter as I finished up wrapping the arm of the Mage in front of me in fresh bandages.
I read the words slowly, as though it’d make a difference in delaying what I’d no doubt do.
It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to see him.
I wanted to—desperately. That was the problem.
The moment I saw him the floodgates on my emotions would open wide, and everything I’d been holding in would come out at once.
It was always that way with him. Finding comfort in another was a blessing and a curse.
I took my time making my way to his tent on the south side of the castle, taking in the reconstruction progress as I walked.
Mages were scattered all along the perimeter, brows slick with sweat and hair matted to their faces.
There was a prideful beauty in their commitment to the Consortium.
Not a single one had chosen to abandon their fellow Mages.
This was their home just as it had become mine.
Shame it took tragedy to realize such.
Pulling back the leather flaps, I stepped inside Alandris’s tent.
Met with his back I paused, taking in the sight of him hunched over a large map at the center of the large wooden table which took up a majority of the space.
In the tent’s corner a bed of straw supported a splayed-out bedroll covered with a mess of fur blankets.
An oil lamp sat precariously close to the straw—thankfully, unlit.
Alandris turned at the crunch of the ground beneath my feet, heaving a deep sigh as he took in my face.
His own was as beautifully sharp as it always was, though, dark circles now rimmed his bloodshot eyes, and his mouth was turned down into an uncharacteristic frown.
His posture—normally elegant and proper—was deflated.
I moved toward him, wrapped my arms around his back, and pressed my cheek to his chest. His hand came down to tangle through my hair—the mess it was—as he pulled me closer. For some time we remained there, silently recovering the missing pieces of ourselves we found only in each other’s embrace.
“I should have brought you here the first night,” he finally murmured.
“It was too chaotic. The Consortium needed us exactly where we were.”
The grumble he returned my statement with was only half-agreement. “From now on, let us at least spend our nights here together.”
“You look as though you’ve been spending very few nights here.” I traced a thumb along his under-eye. “I know there is much to do, but you need to rest.”
He released me from his grasp and rested his hands on my shoulders.
“There is something I need to tell you. We’ve been working to discover who betrayed us.
With the portals destroyed we knew it was someone from within the Consortium.
Only one Mage was unaccounted for in the final headcount.
” He stared down at the space between us, and I felt my chest clench. “Luelle.”
I took an instinctive step back, my fingers tightening into fists against my thighs.
Luelle, who had been my friend and had attempted to grow closer to me from the moment I arrived…
. Nothing had been real. The pain of her betrayal shifted to an anger so blindingly hot, and so quickly, it surprised me.
Alandris continued, “Though I never encountered her at any of the Divine Council’s meetings, it was possible she either remained silent during them, or stayed in the shadows as a spy.
Regardless, she infiltrated the Consortium long before you ever arrived.
She joined us shortly after I took over as Grand Arch Magus. ”
“Why join then?”
“They were likely suspicious of me as a new member. My bringing you here was supposed to protect you from them. I hoped to hide you right under their noses.” His frown deepened. “I suppose they were always one step ahead.”
I took his hand in mine. “I practically gave her everything she needed to prove I was what they were looking for.”
He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
“My nightmares. My strange disappearances.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure what I did or said in my sleep, either. Zaelos’s influence over me those last few weeks was overpowering. I felt less and less like myself.”
“It was always our game to lose. We were only biding our time. What matters is we are all alive, and you are now fully your own. Now, we can fight back,” he said, a fresh resolve in his eyes. “Is that what you want?”
I clenched my jaw tight. I wanted nothing more. “Yes, I want to fight.”
I’d once dreamed of a life of peaceful nothingness.
I’d wanted to live with Alandris at my side in the middle of nowhere.
Each day the same, from morning to night, free of responsibility.
Whether it was my naivety or just a simple pipe dream, that future was the one I craved most of all.
Maybe I could still have it one day… but not now… .
Now, I craved revenge.
For everything they’d taken from me. For the future I could have had. For the girl, who’d never deserved to be hunted like a monster.
“There’s someone I need to speak with first,” I told him. “Can you ask everyone to meet us here tonight so we can come up with a plan?”
“Of course.”
There was one final person I needed to determine a friend or foe. I would not be a pawn for anyone’s schemes any longer.
I pressed into the forest surrounding the Consortium, the Towering Wilds—deeper and deeper—listening for the song.
It started softly, a haunting melody guiding me towards the center of the wood.
In the past, I’d felt possessed by the sound—unable to fight against it—but no longer.
With Fae magic of my own, I recognized the spell for what it was—an illusion.
I was not following the song against my will anymore.
The dark green of the forest transformed to a stranger hue, as familiar flora and fauna shifted to something wilder and wholly unnatural. At the center of an open clearing—perched on a stump and surrounded by a kaleidoscope of butterflies—sat the wildest of them all—Amorphael.
“I knew you would come for me, child,” she hummed, as her lips curled into a saccharine smile. “Your soul is no longer fractured, I see. Surrounded by the shadows of the Winter Queen, but one.”
“I kept her power.”
“A wise decision or a grave mistake… only time will tell.” She held her finger out and a butterfly landed upon it, fluttering its wings. “Ask me what you must.”
Fae riddles and trickery. I hated how it felt as though I was playing into her hand with every move I made. Would she even give me a straight answer? Or just another question?
“Why did you trick me into consuming the lost parts of Zaelos’s soul?” I began. “The flower that you made Alandris find all those years ago. Was your intention for Zaelos to take over my body as a vessel all along?”
She tilted her head, not at all surprised by my inquiry. “I didn’t trick you. I gave you exactly what you needed to silence him. Each time you took the potion, a piece of him returned, and it neutralized him for some time. Did it not?”
I gave a spiteful laugh. “Right… and in doing so you strengthened him, too.”
Her bright green and gold-flecked eyes met mine with burning intensity.
“Your plan with the Soulseer would not have succeeded unless you fought Zaelos’s fully mended soul.
A piece of him would have always lingered.
It was not a risk I could take.” She rose from the stump and strode toward me.
“Would your lover have agreed to the risk if he knew?”
No. He would not have.
It wasn’t a lie Amorphael had told. Never.
Omission definitely, but never a lie. It didn’t make me resent her any less—given that she’d played us like puppets at her whim—but it did let me know where she stood.
She was not and had never been my enemy.
She’d always wanted me to succeed. But what about now?
“The Divine Council will not rest until I’m dead. Can I count on your support?”
Amorphael dragged a finger along my jaw, and I flinched at the touch.
“I am fond of you, faylin, but I do not involve myself in the wars of Mortals. I will, however, assist Jyuri with assuring the Winter Queen does not come to collect the piece of her power you’ve stolen.
Consider it a debt paid for a bargain that was never in your favor. ”
She pressed her lips to mine and whispered, “Goodbye.”
I didn’t ask if the kiss was necessary to seal our bargain. I didn’t think the goodbye was intended for me at all.