Chapter Five Riela #2
if I made dinner. And it would also make up for eating his breakfast this morning.
The first cabinet I opened was empty. So was the second. I kept looking, but every cabinet was empty. There was no food, and weirdly, there weren’t any pots or pans or plates or cups, either. There was nothing
but yet another thick layer of dust.
I studied the room. It looked like a kitchen, even without the hearth. It didn’t seem to be a dining room, but what kind of kitchen didn’t have any of
the things required to prepare food? Was this the scullery and the cooking kitchen was outside? I’d read that some fancy houses
put the cooking area away from the main building in an effort to contain any potential fire, but a castle made of stone would
hardly burn, would it?
Still, it was worth a peek. I could also look for a well, since I wasn’t sure if the water from the pipes was safe to drink.
Assuming the castle would let me out this time.
The outer door was thick and heavy, but it swung open on well-oiled hinges.
I crossed the threshold and gingerly stepped outside, thankful for my new boots.
The sun was sinking below the distant trees and the wind had a bitter edge.
I shivered in my thin tunic and trousers.
I should’ve brought my cloak, but I wasn’t going back for it now.
I didn’t relish climbing another infinite staircase.
The castle was situated on an island in the heart of the lake. The land dropped sharply to the water below, but someone had
managed to carve out space for a small kitchen garden. It was neglected and filled with weeds, but I found the dirt in the
planting beds was rich and healthy—in stark contrast to the rest of the island’s rocky soil.
A flagstone path led to the left. To the right, the castle was built right up to the edge of the cliff. A short wall prevented
the unwary from taking a nasty tumble, but there would be no kitchen or well that way.
The flagstones led to the front of the building where a narrow stone bridge connected the island to the forest. The bridge
shimmered with magic. Behind me, the castle’s main entrance frowned down at anyone brave enough to cross the magical expanse.
Could I cross it?
I started toward it, but I was stopped by an invisible wall of magic before I set a single foot on the bridge itself. I raised
my power and silver magic filled my vision. A glance toward the lake proved that it was just as protected, so swimming wasn’t
an option, either. I prodded at the silver wall, and it seemed to ripple in my vision.
Could I push through if I needed to? I pressed harder and my hand began to tingle a moment before blistering pain lanced up
my arm. I jerked my fingers back before it could reach my chest, but the throbbing didn’t subside.
Okay, then. I wouldn’t be crossing the bridge without the mage’s help, and a stone settled in my belly. Was I a prisoner?
He hadn’t acted like it this morning, and I hadn’t thought to ask, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I turned back to the entrance with new trepidation.
The huge double door was made of a dark black material that gleamed dully in the last rays of sunlight, but it was the castle itself that held my attention.
Made from gray stone, it had none of the typical mortar lines I was used to.
It looked like it had been drawn directly from the ground as a single, enormous slab of rock—something that no ordinary mage could do, no matter how powerful.
I shivered and not just from the cold.
I moved to the far side of the building, but it was as impassable as the back. The castle was roughly square, a hulking stone
behemoth crouched on the rocky island. Based on the shape, it likely had an inner courtyard, and while there might be a well in there, it was very unlikely they’d put the cooking area in the middle of the building.
So where was it?
I glanced at the lake. Even if I could safely get down to the water, which was doubtful, it probably wasn’t any safer to drink
than the water from the pipes.
If I understood my magic properly, then I could’ve purified the water in the lake, or pulled it directly from the air. Frustration
shadowed my steps, and I idly wondered how long Dama, the saint of justice—and water—was going to plague me.
I’d turned aside a literal flood to save my village, but the simplest magic eluded me.
I sighed. I had two options: drink water from the pipes and eat food from my pack, assuming I could get to it, or find the
mage and ask him about the water and the kitchen and the bridge. Pride argued for the first, but I steeled my spine and turned
back to the scullery door.
I rounded the corner and paused in surprise.
Grim and the mage stood in the shadows of the kitchen garden, their eyes glinting. I flexed my still throbbing fingers and
approached cautiously, unsure why they were outside.
“I was just heading in to look for you,” I said when I was close enough that I didn’t have to raise my voice.
The mage’s eyes flickered over me, and I shivered when his gaze landed on my tingling hand. Did he know I’d tried to leave?
His brows drew together in a scowl. Moonlit magic pulsed and I braced myself, but instead of an attack, a heavy cloak draped itself over my shoulders.
It was a lovely deep gray and far finer than the cloak I’d left behind in my bedroom.
With the thick fabric wrapped around me, I could no longer feel the cutting bite of the wind, and warmth began to thaw my chilled skin.
“Do not become ill,” the mage demanded, his tone curt. “Healing is draining.”
“Are you the one who healed me last night?” I asked.
He nodded once, sharply, then turned toward the door. I reached for him before I thought better of it. My fingers closed around
the firm muscles of his forearm, hidden beneath the long sleeves of his tunic, and a little zap of awareness darted up my arm.
I let go with a startled gasp, but it was far more pleasant than the jolt from the bridge. The mage’s expression remained
unreadable. He tilted his head, turning his scars away from me. “You should not be outside after dark. The castle is protected,
but the forest is persistent.”
I frowned as that brought another dozen questions, but I started with the easiest. “Do you have a name?”
His raised eyebrows told me exactly how inane he thought the question was, especially because I’d asked the wolf the same
thing this morning. He didn’t give me his name.
“My name is Riela,” I reminded him.
“Garrick,” he grumbled after a long pause.
I silently tested it on my tongue. Garrick. It was a good name, but I still needed to know why I was here. “Thank you for helping me and healing me. I appreciate waking
up without holes in my shoulder—and waking up at all, if I’m honest.”
Garrick’s mouth flattened and his eyes went flinty, and my courage nearly failed. An angry mage was someone to avoid at all
costs, but he’d healed me and given me a cloak and boots.
Of course, he’d also made it impossible to find my room or leave, and the dichotomy made my voice sharper than I’d intended
when I asked, “Will you explain why you’ve brought me here or am I supposed to guess based on the fact that I can’t leave?”