Chapter 20
Jane
Varian’s face loomed over me. Someone’s boots were near my head. Floorboards creaked beneath the weight of the Scions as they approached. The white-haired one among them.
Blinding pain split my middle, tearing the earth open beneath me. Wind howled at my back as I was dragged into darkness. Down and down and down.
And when the world stilled, I was no longer there.
Cold stone beneath my palms. Cobbles. A piercing light. An endless road crowded with faceless people, windows, buildings. A sage-green sign surfaced ahead, its gold lettering shining.
Goldsworth.
A blow struck my back, and I fell—
“Miss Darling?” someone called.
Something hard was pressed into my back, and though my eyes remained closed, I knew I was sitting. The room rolled slowly around me, still spinning.
“Miss Darling, can you hear me?” Laerune’s voice broke through the haze. “Perhaps we should take her to the infirmary.”
“I’m all right,” I murmured, clearing my throat with a weak cough.
Blinking, I opened my eyes to the chamber with the two couches and the tutor. A solid, warm wall braced against my back. No, not a wall. A battle mage, easily twice my height, shifted so I could lean against the couch. His reddish brows knitted, his topaz eyes narrowing, unconvinced by my answer.
“What happened?” I asked.
Laerune stepped closer, her height nearly matching his even as he remained seated. The room threatened to tilt once more, and the stranger allowed me to lean into him, his hands settling at my shoulders, steadying me.
Gods, it needed to stop spinning.
“You burned out,” she said gently, guiding a cup of water into my hands. “It happens when the body is depleted. If you do not eat properly before lessons, it simply cannot keep up.”
Somehow, I managed to lift the cup and drink. The edges of the room finally began to settle.
My memory returned in fragments. Laerune pulling me back from a dark abyss. Blood-red petals drifting over my eyes.
I brushed my fingers over my temples, half expecting to feel the velvety pressure that had sealed my lids shut in the vision.
The battle mage adjusted slightly at my side.
“Thank you…” I said, glancing over my shoulder.
“Heil,” he replied. “Are you feeling better, My Lady? I can take you to Hildegard, or back to your quarters.”
“Not Lady,” I murmured, bracing my hands against the cushions to create a little space between us, even as my legs remained tingling and numb.
“You need to eat, Miss Darling,” Laerune reminded me.
I nodded to her, but my attention went to the name I finally recognized. “Heil, as in the captain of the battle mages?”
His grin was a flash of white teeth against fair, freckled skin. Reddish brown strands barely reached his nape, and his uniform, a black leather jerkin embroidered with sigils and leather trousers, looked like something Gwin wore.
“Heilrich, yes. Most people call me Heil. A pleasure to meet you, My—”
“Jane,” I said quickly. “Thank you, Heil.”
“Fortunately, the captain was nearby when we needed him,” Laerune added.
“Should someone stay with you during practice?” Heil asked me, studying my face with clinical interest, and only then did the full embarrassment hit me.
I had collapsed in front of the tutor and, probably the most capable guard in Mountheim, of all people.
I wished the floor would swallow me whole.
Before I could answer, Gwin’s voice drifted in from the doorway. “She’ll love that. A governess to follow her around.”
She slunk inside, amusement plain on her face, Joy following behind her.
“Are you all right?” my sister asked, her eyes flicking between me and the large man beside me on the couch.
“Fine,” I said, adjusting myself in the seat and flicking a glance at Heil. “No governess.” I turned the last part toward the tutor. “How long have I been out? Is Ms Evenwood already here?”
I was supposed to have the next tutoring session after this.
“Not long. She should arrive in an hour,” Laerune replied. “We can still finish our lesson, but you should eat before we continue, or you’ll be too depleted for this and the next lesson.”
“Why don’t you fetch your sister something?” Gwin suggested to Joy.
Joy blinked. “I don’t even know where the kitchen is.”
Heil cleared his throat, the sound low and courteous, as he shifted away from the couch. “I can escort you, if I’m no longer needed.”
He chose the floor rather than the seat, kneeling in front of me as if to offer me more space.
Topaz-blue eyes steadied on mine, his posture impossibly straight.
The dizziness had ebbed enough for me to truly see him.
His eyes reminded me of Reagan’s, but a darker blue, softened by fine lines at the corners that suggested a man who smiled often.
He did so once, just then, before returning to the cool face of a soldier.
I nodded.
“Let me know if you change your mind about having an escort,” he said, the emphasis on the word directed squarely at Gwin.
My gaze dropped to where his knees pressed into the floor. “Thank you, Captain,” I said again.
Every eye in the room seemed to follow Heil as he left with Joy.
“This is your superior?” I asked Gwin, arching a brow.
“I know,” she said with a smirk. “Too polite and good-looking for his own good. Though he’s never knelt for me.”
“I expect the captain reserves that for those who outrank him,” Laerune replied mildly.
Gwin’s gaze slid to me with an unspoken question.
It was one comment too many. “Ms Xanthos, I’ve told you before, I’m only an emissary right now. I very much doubt I outrank the captain.”
Laerune remained serenely unmoved, as though it made no difference.
“Oh, come on, Red. No one in Mountheim believes that anymore.” Gwin gestured vaguely toward the Hall.
“This city has eyes, especially when Reagan is involved. They saw you at the Aurora Rite. Rumours don’t need much encouragement.
” She glanced at Laerune, then leaned closer.
“So how long are you planning to make him crawl?”
My teeth ground together as I reminded myself who I was talking to. “Gwin, this was my first attempt at wielding. Does it look like it went well?”
She took a place next to me. “You just need time. And even if you never summon more than a feather, do you think Malory can send you away? What if you eventually do wield in the human lands?” Her voice lowered. “It makes no sense. So stop turning him away.”
“Do you think I should be Lady even if I cannot wield at will?” I asked.
“But you will,” Gwin went on. “I understand how annoying this may be for you. I understand all of it. But you cannot keep denying what is coming. You and he need to work together. Things are unstable enough without the two of you pulling in opposite directions.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. “And will Reagan even be allowed to bond with someone who cannot wield? How easy do you think that will be? Even if he were allowed, how much resentment do you imagine that would create?” I forced the words out slowly.
“I love your brother, but he is the Lord and love alone doesn’t make me good enough. You know that.”
I leaned back, my exhaustion winning.
Gwin stayed unmoved, though her expression was less apathetic than usual. “We would help you. Both of you.” She waited until my gaze met hers. “You just discovered you are hybrid-born, and there are no laws standing in your way. You are lucky, Red. Bloody lucky.”
If only it were that simple. Even if Gwin had a point about the risk of sending me back to the human lands, I would still have to wield. It was imperative if I were ever to become Lady of Mountheim.
Nodding, I studied Gwin. I felt for her. I truly did. The distance from humans had kept Gwinifer from someone she cared for deeply. That kind of separation must have carved its own emotional wound.
“Miss Darling,” Laerune said gently from the couch across from us. “Shall we continue?”
“Yes, Ms Xanthos,” I replied, already turning away from Gwin. “Gwin was just leaving.”
With a sigh, she stood and left without another word.
Laerune reclaimed my attention. “What you experienced is normal. Other diviners have felt the same when first reaching for the Sight. Not every lesson will be so intense and eventually you’ll be able to wield at will.
Make no mistake. You have access to mana.
The ring has blocked it for years, and that will take time to undo.
To reach your power, you must learn to trust your instincts even more than your mind. ”
◆◆◆
“I would hate to waste my time on someone unwilling to commit.”
Laerune Xanthos had been patient enough during the lesson. Seraphyn Evenwood was not.
The spellcraft tutor arrived precisely one hour after Joy returned with fruit and light snacks that had restored some of my strength.
Seraphyn was all lithe angles and whip-like posture, her chin held high, her expression a sculpted mask of pride. It dripped from her every word. I didn’t need the Sight to know she would keep me on edge through every lesson.
For spellcraft, we met in the training room that the staff usually reserved for sparring.
“That’s not my case,” I answered solemnly.
Cerridwen had told me about Seraphyn. She had tutored Reagan and Gwin in their early studies, earning high praise from former advisors to Mountheim’s rulers long before Elinor and Thomas.
She held a Tarkin, an award supposed to signify the highest academic honour, which, Cerridwen added, came with an unhealthy high ego.
Still, the woman had trained more Mage Lords and Ladies than she could count.
“Good,” Seraphyn said, turning her gaze on me. “Have you yet managed to tap into your access?”
A restless heat surged beneath my skin in answer.
Laerune’s confirmation had stirred something like relief, as fleeting as seeing the eagle clearly in my mind.
“I tapped it very briefly today,” I said, “but Laerune helped me.”
I told her about Laerune’s siphoning and the unfortunate fainting.
“And you wore a relic for most of your life that blocked your wielding,” Evenwood said.
“Yes.”
“Other tutors believe the lack of contact dulled your sensitivity to access your power. I disagree.” She circled me slowly, eyes sweeping my form.
“I believe you were never taught intention. You never learned to command, to practice until words became unnecessary, until will alone was enough. Without that, you are untrained.” She halted before me, letting her gaze linger.
“But somehow, we will make a Lady out of you.”
I met her scrutiny steadily, some instinct telling me this was already a test, as if she were waiting for me to flinch.
With no small amount of pride, I didn’t.
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
One thing I appreciated about her was her honesty. There was none of the blind confidence Gwinifer and Reagan radiated, nor the way the other tutors, the captain, and Hildegard treated me.
I was used to being underestimated. It no longer stung. Perhaps I’d become so used to it that it spurred me more than the confidence the others had. I didn’t know what that said about me.
“Summoning charms are simple and require as much wielding as sleep,” Seraphyn said, setting a small hourglass with grey sand on the table.
“You will read the charm’s description, then attempt to summon it to your hand.
I will turn the hourglass each minute you fail.
The goal of these lessons is to lessen the number of turns.
” She pointed to an open book by the hourglass. “Read.”
I skimmed the text, noting the unnecessarily long explanation, until I found the command word my friends had used before.
“Do I just say the word?” I asked.
“Focus solely on intention. Command it. A spell is fuelled by the precision of will. If your mind wavers, mana will not heed your wish. Words, spoken aloud or within, only tether will to outcome. Are you ready?”
She gestured for me to step a few metres from the table. My pulse quickened as I obeyed.
Adveho. A simple word. Just say it. Simple enough.
I nodded once.
Seraphyn stepped aside, chin dipping. “Begin.”