One Thing At A Time
Queen Tramella is a lovely woman, so long as you are on her good side. Gods help you if you get onto her bad side.
From the journal of Grandmaster Fawn Maitre, previous Grandmaster of the Crux.
IT FEELS STRANGE TO be in Arlon’s office without him. I’ve done it before, but now, with the knowledge that he won’t be back for some time... it feels less welcoming. Colder, somehow, and not just because the temperature has taken a dip this morning.
I hug my sweater a little closer around me as I go to examine the papers Arlon has left on his desk.
He tried to clean things up for me. Organized the remaining spell sheets that need to be logged, stacked the accounting information for the winter requisitions.
But as I circle around to his side of the desk, I see that one of the drawers is cracked open.
It’s the one he normally locks his spells in, but now it’s empty aside from a single focus, and a small, folded note. Curiously, I pull both out, only to nearly drop the magiline marble in surprise.
It hums with energy, but just rolling it through my fingers, I can’t tell what school it is. Can’t even fathom what it could be for. I set it on the desk before I open the note to find just two sentences in Arlon’s hurried script.
In case of an emergency.
Prove them all wrong, doldora.
Tears unexpectedly well to my eyes. I smile as I fold the note, storing it in my pocket before I string the focus onto my necklace. Even though the delegation has only just left, I miss him already.
“You alright, Gal?”
I look over to see Garrett in the doorway. No doubt he and Bridgette spent the night last night. That theory is confirmed when I catch sight of the dark gray hickey on his neck, just over the collar he wears whenever he’s in the Crux’s walls.
“I’m alright.” My smile is fragile when I say, “Just feels very real all of a sudden.”
Garrett hums as he steps into the office. His big hand lands on my shoulder, and I can’t help but wrap my arms around his waist. He returns the embrace, one hand smoothing down my back.
“I’m gonna miss him, too,” he says. “But Bri and I are here to help in whatever way you need.”
And I know he will, too. He was my corpimancy mentor when I first started pursuing the school, but it wasn’t until I started working alongside him at the clinic that I saw just how much of a helper Garrett is. It’s a strong calling for him, and I’m grateful that he and Bridgette are here.
“Where is Bridgette?”
Garrett’s deep laugh rumbles through me. “Still sleeping. The three of us had a, ah... long night of goodbyes.”
That must have been nice. For a moment, I miss Dom and Olbric fiercely as I bury my face against Garrett’s broad chest. All of the things I have to do today suddenly feel overwhelming. Like I’ve taken too big of a bite and am just now realizing that I have to chew through it all.
Garrett must feel something in my stance, because his arms circle a little tighter. “What’s on the docket today? Anything I can help with?”
I keep my face firmly against his chest. “Would you be willing to keep an eye on things here this morning?”
“I can,” he says, but his unasked question hangs between us.
“I need to go to the palace and speak with Queen Tramella,” I say.
“Ah,” Garrett says, but something in his tone makes me wonder.
“Does the King’s physician have any advice on dealing with Strae royalty?”
“When speaking to the Queen Mother, directness is, ah, appreciated,” Garrett says carefully. “She is not the most patient woman.”
I hum as I loosen my grip enough to look up at him. “Do you think showing up unannounced to request an audience will be direct enough?”
Garrett chuckles. “It’s bold, but I have a feeling that boldness will be appreciated. Arlon has always stepped carefully around the Crown, and I think Tramella gets frustrated by that hesitancy.”
I tuck that bit of information away. Arlon comes from nothing, so it’s no surprise that he doesn’t feel comfortable inserting himself into royal affairs.
But I was raised doing it, and if I’m going to save my family’s name, if I’m going to succeed at becoming Grandmaster permanently, I need to make a strong first impression.
“Thank you, Garrett.”
One strong hand gently squeezes my shoulder. “Just breathe. You can do this.”
I take that boost of confidence with me before I ask Symon to ready a carriage. As he does, I hurry upstairs and change into my robes, putting my masteries on display.
I try not to think too hard about the two I’m still lacking. Transmutation and enchantment are the final hurdles to my full mastery, and it’s no question as to why that is. Both schools require a certain level of... debasement, a stripping away of dignity that’s difficult for me.
I force the thought away as I head into the courtyard.
The delegation has departed, leaving no trace behind save for the small group of loiterers still outside of the Crux’s gates.
The majority of the crowd departed when the remnants of the royal procession returned to the palace, but a few loudmouths linger, their jeers and calls carrying across the drawbridge.
Teagan, the Royal Guard on duty, looks annoyed at the hecklers, and I silently wonder why she hasn’t told them to leave yet.
The distrust and hostility towards wizards has spread through Straetham like a sickness in recent months.
It’s been exhausting to deal with. We can barely go into town without getting harassed, and there are groups that seem to come to the Crux with the sole purpose of creating a headache for us.
Hearing the shouts and jeers, the “thots” thrown across the fence today, hardens my resolve.
“Allisande Maxwell should hang for pitching us into war!”
The bold voice carries across the courtyard, and a figure I hadn’t noticed sitting in the shade along the inner wall abruptly stands.
I barely see the gleam of black horns before Margeurite is at the gate.
A spell flashes out on her necklace, and fear makes my stomach drop at the open fury on her face.
I reach for my own spells on instinct before Margeurite’s voice booms out, “Leave immediately, or I will make you.”
I wince at the volume as much as the threat. That’s certainly not going to help us, but at least she doesn’t outright blast the man. Yet she’s only reinforcing the idea these people hold that wizards are dangerous, and in that moment, I believe she could be.
Margeurite’s eyes are rimmed with red, her teeth bared in a furious snarl as she glares through the bars of the portcullis. She’s usually so calm, so collected, that seeing her like this is startling.
“Mags,” I say, my surprise turning my voice sharp.
She whirls to face me, and I see every bit of the anger and helplessness she’s feeling.
Having Allisande ripped away from her again has broken something in her, but before I can offer any word, her expression crumples.
She flees, tears spilling fresh from her eyes before she disappears back into the Crux.
For a moment, I’m not sure what to do, but Margeurite’s threat worked. The crowd disperses, and Symon uses the cleared path to bring the carriage to a stop in front of the Crux. I swear, feeling pulled in two directions at once.
“One thing at a time,” I say before I head towards the gate. I’ll give Margeurite a chance to cool off before I talk to her.
“That’s one way to disperse a crowd,” Teagan mutters as I approach, working her finger into her ear.
“My apologies,” I say.
Teagan just shrugs. “I’ll take the ringing ears. She saved me from yelling at them myself.”
I offer her a small smile before I say, “I’m heading into town. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Teagan nods before she pulls the lever to raise the portcullis. “Yes, Grandmaster.”
Hearing her throw the title out so casually sends a rush of emotion through me. That feeling of the too-big bite returns, and I quickly chew through the pride, the doubt as I head across the drawbridge to meet Symon.
The ride into town passes quickly, and far too soon I exit the carriage in front of the palace.
The guards at the entrance glimpse the spells around my neck before they straighten.
I harden my resolve and say, “Interim Grandmaster of the Crux Galiva Qamari requests an audience with Her Majesty, Queen Tramella.”
The guards look me over before one disappears without a word. I’m left to wait with the other, but not for long. Only a few minutes later, the guard returns and says, “Please follow me, Grandmaster.”
There it is again. The doubt strikes so hard that my steps nearly falter, but I’ve already set myself on this course. It’s too late to turn back now. I just hope the Queen is as receptive to this meeting as I anticipated.
The guard leads me through the palace to the meeting room that has become all too familiar recently.
Inside, Queen Tramella waits at the far end of the table, sitting where the King was the last time I was here.
There are echoes of him in her features - the same narrow face, the same ice-blue eyes.
Her hair is the same dark brown, though hers is streaked with gray.
I bow low before she says, “Sit.”
As I do, her scrutinizing gaze rakes over me, and I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt so small.
I’m convinced that showing up like this was a misstep, but then the Queen says, “I’m grateful I didn’t have to summon you.
” I’m barely allowed a breath of relief before she adds, “I’d like to get this unpleasantness out of the way quickly. ”
Her fierce blue eyes focus on me like a drawn bow.
“I was told that Reneta of the Taranso and the loyal wizards of the Eastern Tower were intercepted by hostile forces on their journey to the Crux. While the loss of twenty-three capable wizards frustrates me greatly, I do not believe that Reneta was any more of a suitable candidate for Grandmaster of the Crux than you are. But of course, it’s so like Arlon Kalisson to provide such objectionable options for his replacement. ”
The frankness of it all stuns me, but I rein my anger in, schooling it behind a neutral face.
“Yet with the Tower wizards’ fates now in the hands of Immenbach, I am left with only the sister of the traitor that put them there in the first place,” the Queen continues. “Now, I need to determine how deep that traitor’s stain penetrates your bloodline.”
I take a steadying breath. This is expected criticism, but it still feels like a slap to the face to hear it.
“My sister’s actions at the Tower are unforgivable, Your Majesty.
She acted without regard to the longstanding alliance between Straetham and Kenitka, without regard to anything beyond her own interests. ”
It feels callous to say it, but it was Demica’s emotional entanglements that led to this mess.
Her worries for our family’s financial wellbeing caused her to make the traitorous alliance with the Immen Crown.
Her fears for her daughter’s safety are what made her continue the treason long after the situation left her control.
Yet at the thought of my niece Marica, my heart aches all over again.
I draw in a steadying breath as I force that thought aside. One thing at a time.
“No, Demica is a traitor to Kenitka, to the Crux, and to Straetham,” I say. “She has dug her own grave. I pray you give me the chance to not be buried with her.”
Tramella looks me over before she says, “I don’t care for magic.
It’s a power given without a care for status or standing in the world.
It can cause great damage, bring about great good, yet both of those outcomes are dictated by the morality of the person wielding it.
It is a fickle sort of gift, one that saved my son from the fever while simultaneously failing to save my husband.
So tell me, are you the proper, morally upstanding, and reliable choice to wield it for the Kingdom of Straetham? ”
For a moment, I’m not sure what to say. Is this a chance to plead my case? Beg for her to even consider me? Yet only my casting partners know what it takes to get me to beg, and I refuse to do it here.
“That is a decision only you and your royal son can make, Your Majesty,” I say carefully.
“I am only heading the Crux in Grandmaster Kalisson’s absence for the time being, but that’s not to say I am content to warm his seat.
There is a glaring problem that Arlon has not addressed that I would see fixed. ”
The Queen looks intrigued by that. “Oh?”
“I want to restore the Crown and the people of Straetham’s trust in magic.”
For a moment, the Queen seems genuinely surprised. “A lofty goal with the damage that has been done,” she says at last. “How?”
The answer is still murky, a vague idea that I haven’t been able to bring fully to the surface yet.
But I can’t let Tramella see me falter. “The details are not fully formed yet, Your Majesty, and I wouldn’t waste your time with speculation and hopes.
I would rather bring you something material once my plans are ready. ”
“And how long will that take?” Tramella asks, her skepticism plain. “Perhaps just long enough for Arlon Kalisson to return, and your position as interim Grandmaster to end?”
I school my face to neutrality. She thinks I’ve got nothing. Thinks I’m stalling until I can pass the problem back to Arlon. I aim to prove her wrong.
“Give me until the end of the week, Your Majesty,” I say. “I will have a full proposal outlined for your approval.”
The crease between her eyebrows softens a bit. Oh, she likes that. Likes feeling involved. I may be stepping on my own foot though, because if she hates what I come up with, she can shoot it down before it even has a chance. I choose not to think about that right now.
One thing at a time, Galiva.
“Alright then, Grandmaster,” she says at last. “You have until the end of the week to give me a full proposal.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Tramella waves a dismissive hand, and I quickly get to my feet, bowing low. Yet as I reach the door, the Queen calls, “I look forward to hearing your ideas, Galiva. I hope they will impress me.”