17. Oh, if only she really knew
OH, IF ONLY SHE REALLY KNEW
ENORA
Ispent hours running basic aptitude drills under the scrutinizing watch of Grimmoria’s high mage, and I couldn’t recall the last time I’d felt so invigorated.
A little like my heart was about to beat itself right out of my chest, sure—and a lot like a bath was a pressing need—but I’d never smiled as genuinely in my short tenure in the dark fae kingdom as I did when Jasper deemed my baseline assessment complete.
I didn’t miss how an increasingly less reserved smile seemed to grace the mage’s exposed lower face either. Maybe I should have taken more insult to how low his expectations clearly were of me going into this, but the pride of exceeding those expectations outweighed it all.
It was a primitive, fickle beast of mine that hadn’t seen its ego stroked in ages.
In an old shade of my life—before my father died and my brother upended everything—years passed when I hadn’t paid a single tab at a tavern.
Not when I was posted on assignments out in villages where I was just another face, or even around the fortress when a new merchant would roll into town unaware.
Sure, they used to take one look at Theo’s hulking body and turn the other way, but none of them ever fathomed a woman of my build taking them in an arm-wrestle or winning a foot race in my gear. I lived to prove them wrong every damned time.
Granted, the hours Jasper and I had spent on the outskirts of Grimm’s garrison, using natural obstacles carved into the landscape, weren’t as riveting as any night spent at a tavern or in the mess hall, but it was as close as I was sure I’d get for a long damned time.
“You’re sure you don’t want to stop to rest? Or eat, even? We’re in no rush, I promise you.” The mage had asked me that twice now, and I could only imagine the furrow his face was worked into just based on the twist of his mouth.
Well, it was that, and the healthy time I’d spent thinking up what his entire face looked like as a bit of a distraction during my drills.
I had tried to peek beneath his hood more than once, but between our similar heights and the wisps of shadowy glamor that clung to his face, my attempts fell flat.
I’d decided he had to be scarred. Horrifically.
Missing an eye. Maybe both.
Not that I was well-versed enough in any magic to make inferences, but I was sure he could navigate his way around with some kind of ethereal aid.
I also hadn’t glimpsed a single tuft of hair making its way out of the confines of his hood or caught a single strand anywhere on his clothing, which begged the argument that he could have been scalped.
Though I thought I had glimpsed light-colored hair when he was out on the terrace with Maksym the night of our group dinner, and I supposed the entire shadowed hood business would have been a bit much when he could’ve just worn—
“Miss Wynn?”
A fresh wave of heat bloomed over my face.
“I’m fine, I’m sure.” Forcing my attention away from the mage’s hooded visage, I kicked a small rock along the edge of the path.
“We’re spending the rest of the day focusing on weaponry, right?
I’ll probably need a break after that, but whatever Eilir gave me—”
I stiffened as the rock bounced, picked up, and let out an ear-piercing squeal. Two pincers shot out from its body, snapping in our direction, and my jaw went slack.
“And that is a rock crab,” Jasper chuckled as it tore off the pathway into the brush. “Seabirds scoop them up with other fish and abandon them out here when they realize they can’t get through their carapace.”
I huffed a breath as I watched the bush rustle and shift. “Seabirds? How far is the water from the Keep?”
Jasper hummed a contemplative noise. “By steed? The docks in Embervale are a couple of hours away, but there’s a network of sea caves and a strait much closer.”
“…are there ways other than by steed?” I realized the stupidity of my question the moment it left my lips, and the mage smirked.
“On foot, of course. Beautiful walk, but definitely not worth the effort.” He paused before adding. “There’s stepping too, you know. There and back in the blink of an eye.”
I let out a breath. “Right. I’m going to have to remember that, I guess.” My attention drifted out to the copses lining the pathway as the not entirely comforting reality settled in.
In Odessa, I knew about magic, but only the most basic principles.
My people, after all, were not gifted by the gods in the same way that high and dark fae were.
Many Odessans could amplify elements, but just as many—like myself—couldn’t, and for those who could, their skills varied greatly.
Some could only stoke an ember to a wisp of flame with intense concentration, while others could take that wisp and ignite a forest with the pass of their hand.
None could conjure something from nothing, though.
That was not the case for the fae who inhabited my new home, but it was painful to accept that I knew little else about the magic they wielded.
A small, empathetic smile graced Jasper’s mouth when I looked back at him. “We’ll teach you plenty, don’t worry. Max will see that you’re plenty educated in all—”
“Can he plane step?” I blurted over the mage, who huffed a laugh.
“No, he can’t.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Can you?”
The mage lifted a single shoulder and dropped it without saying a word.
I scoffed at him. “Eilir said they couldn’t plane step with me because I was too big. Is it the same for fae, or…?”
He shook his head. “The sprites are built differently. The makeup of their bodies is meant to pass through planes with ease. Eilir could step the entire colony from the woods if they had to, but it would be incredibly dangerous for them to move something built entirely differently from them, especially a body that isn’t built on any magic. ”
“Oh.”
Truthfully, my voidness had never bothered me—it was common enough that half my friends growing up were in the same position—but I couldn’t help the tiny pang of disappointment in my chest. It was quickly outweighed, though, by a thought that made me wholly uncomfortable.
“But fae can plane step with someone else?” I asked. “Or with…multiple someone elses? Like…an entire camp, say?”
Jasper’s lips parted, and he gave me a slow, uneasy nod.
“Yes. Most who haven’t refined their craft can bring another being or two with them.
It’s not exactly a comfortable experience for everyone involved, but they can.
A plane stepper who is more moderately skilled could move a large crowd a few times before they needed to rest. And one who has honed their craft extensively could move entire armies if they wanted to. ”
That did nothing to ease the new pit in my stomach.
Large crowds. Entire armies.
A small camp would be nothing to even a modestly skilled plane stepper then. And while it would easily explain why I still had no memory of crossing the Wastes, it didn’t paint any clearer picture as to who could be responsible.
The accusations Maksym wielded at my brother were hard to believe when Odessa did not employ plane steppers.
At least, not as of just weeks before my father’s death, when he’d lamented to me about how much he’d gladly pay to employ even one.
But they did not come to Odessa, or make themselves known if they did.
I was hard-pressed to believe my brother wouldn’t have made sure every denizen of our kingdom knew he’d achieved something our father never managed to do.
That left the dark fae of Grimmoria, or even the Wastes, but I just couldn’t fathom the motive behind it. Sure, Calder could be viewed as a weak point, but they knew they had the upper hand in every way against Odessa already; such a petty act of instigation would be utterly pointless.
Goddess, I needed to move on, and quickly, before my mind ruined what had turned out to be a perfectly good day.
Clasping my hands behind my back, I tipped my head. “And how skilled of a stepper are you, mage?”
The insufferable man shrugged again, but I caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched, made even more evident by the scar that ran from the side of his chin to the crease of his nose.
Despite the more poised appearance of Jasper whenever we’d been in Maksym’s presence, he’d slipped into a remarkably casual ease with me. I doubted that was by any influence of the king, but Eilir could have had something to do with it.
Regardless, I appreciated the easy candor that had encompassed our entire day thus far, even if I was coming close to dwelling on things that would upset it entirely.
And perhaps the most ridiculous part of the day?
The slight disappointment I’d developed that Maksym had tied the stay of my execution to a betrothal to himself and not his mage.
Sure, I did not know what he looked like, or if he were horrifically maimed, but at least Jasper had proven himself capable of handling time alone with me without turning it into an act of hostility.
But that thought only framed up just how ludicrous my circumstance was. I never thought I would feel disappointed at being forced to marry one man instead of another—especially after apparently being promised to one of their very dead fathers.
“Well, regardless of what you will not tell me about your plane stepping prowess,” I said, “all I’ve gathered is that you’ve made me do a hell of a lot of walking today for no reason at all.”
He huffed a quiet, amused noise. “All in the name of assessment, I assure you. And look—” He gestured ahead with a gloved hand. “We’re back already.”
That statement was a bit of a stretch.
Down the pathway, past two more slopes and at least a few hundred paces, was the gatehouse we’d passed through that morning.
I was positive we still had a lengthy walk back to the garrison buildings once we’d passed through that, too.
“Well, I’m so relieved you can report back to your king I’m capable of walking.” I added a hearty sigh at the end.