Chapter 11
Anya Delemond
Anya knocked on the double doors of Melusine Manor.
A hawk from Marg had arrived with an invitation for tea before Anya even had a chance to brief Blackbird on the upcoming journey.
Anya still jumped at the invitation and elected to bring Blackbird with her.
Blackbird hummed and rocked back and forth on her heels, while Anya traced her hands over the engraving in the walnut wood as she waited.
She’d never looked that closely at them before.
They weren’t just swirls and scrolls; they were waves, and between each cresting wave was a horse with a scraggly, seaweed-like mane.
“Kelpie?” she whispered to herself. She’d only heard rumors of them, most recently from Captain Verden, who swore he’d seen an entire school of them a few moons back when the Lupus Star had been blown off course on its way to Gryphon’s Landing, but not a single member of the crew believed him.
The door suddenly swung back from beneath her claws, leaving her hand in the air as she made eye contact with Marguerite Melusine. Her friend’s light violet hair cascaded around her tapered ears, and over the shoulders of her silver double-breasted robe.
“Thank you for coming.” Marg sighed.
“We love seeing you, Marg!” Blackbird said, squeezing Marg in a tight hug. Anya and Blackbird had known Marg since they came of age. Namely, from the moment they watched Marg throw purple mead in the face of an overly-handsy bachelor at the equinox ball.
“Come inside. We can speak privately in my study.” Marg waved her inside and shut the door behind them with a flick of her wrist. The manor looked completely different in the daylight.
It was like the masquerade had never happened.
The smooth stone that was once cast in soft blue light was now sterile and white like most noble estates that had transcended the aging castles scattered throughout the kingdom.
The curtains were flung wide to bathe the space in natural warmth instead of magical luminescence.
Marg’s study was as cozy as it was odd. Mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, but only a few actually held books.
Bubbling concoctions, dusty mortars and pestles, and thin glass tubes on wiry metal stands littered the rest of the shelves.
A contraption consisting of a series of buckets, gutters, and fine mesh obscured part of the window that faced the sea.
Anya and Blackbird sat on a blue velvet settee, while Marg took the one across from them.
After an offering of tea and exchanging of pleasantries, they got down to rehashing the Council session.
After some therapeutic venting about Cyrus and Lord Bryson, Anya mustered the courage to ask the question that had begun to bug her even more than Cyrus’s unexpected support.
Anya set her teacup down with a tink. “Marg, how do you use so much magic? In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you run out of mana. Ever. Not that I doubt your abilities. I don’t mean to offend.”
Marg waved a hand. “None taken. That is precisely why I planned this tea.”
Marg fished in her pocket, then gently set a small cinch bag on the tea table between them. Anya picked it up and loosened the ties. Her eyes widened at the sparkling contents, shining like quartz in the moonlight.
“Mana stones?”
Marg nodded but averted her gaze. Her tapered ears were pinned back.
Anya furrowed her brows. “How did you get so many? This many won’t cure the children, but it will help their symptoms for sure.”
“I did not lie on my report. These are not coming from the Valerian market.”
Anya scoffed. “What other market is there?”
Marg stared at her hands, then whispered, “Aquillas.”
“What!?” Blackbird shrieked. Anya clamped a hand over her friend’s mouth. Blackbird wiggled under her grasp to no avail.
“Tell me how, Marg. Please,” Anya pleaded. “Any information could help the expedition.”
Marg took a deep breath and wrung her hands.
“I am not Elvani…I am a half-elf. My mother said that my father was an Elf from Aquillas, but that is all I know. That is why I have such strong mana affinity. I have never spoken with my father, but every few moons or so, I am drawn to the shore in the middle of the night. Without fail, there is a herd of kelpie bearing gifts and letters from my father. That is why I have grapes, mana stones, and fine fabrics.”
“And you only thought to tell me this now?” Anya hissed.
Marg shot up from her seat and fell to her knees before Anya. “I didn’t think you’d believe me! Please, please forgive me. If I’d known about the shortage sooner, I would have sent these right to Balcott!”
Anya paled as Marg looked up. The fear on Marg’s face was haunting.
She wasn’t looking at her like a friend, but like a royal who could order her head to roll.
Had she heard what she did to Lord Bryson?
Did Marg think her cruel? She straightened.
No. Marg trusted her enough to tell her the truth and give stones for the children, so she would trust her now.
She pulled Marg up and hugged her tight.
“Your Highness?”
“Don’t ever call me ‘Your Highness’ again, Marg.” Marg relaxed into the embrace. Anya gave her one more tight squeeze and leaned back, holding on to Marg’s shoulders.
“I will keep an eagle eye on Count Scorer, Anya. You can count on me,” Marg said resolutely.
“Thank you,” Anya said, releasing a breath that unlocked all the stress that had been hidden under her excitement about the expedition.
She was elated to escape from palace life, of course.
But there were fears that came with that.
Her parents were no longer in their prime.
Her father frequently took ill, and she knew he would never allow the Crown healing mage to use mana stones on him while there was a shortage.
And what of Cyrus? He was an ass, but she still had a hard time imagining him actively trying to hurt her parents.
Her anxieties tangled and gnarled with each passing moment.
She needed reassurance that all was well in her absence, but a hawk would do no good to bring replies back to her.
She perked up. Valeria’s foremost magical inventor was kneeling right in front of her.
“Dust yourself off!” Anya stood and tugged Marg to her feet. “We can’t have a marchioness on the floor, can we?”
“Ha, I suppose not…” Marg brushed the wrinkles out of her day dress. “I still feel badly for having all these stones. If I’d known, I would have—”
Blackbird jumped her with a monstrous hug. “Oh, Marg! We know you mean well!”
Anya grinned. “But if you would like to lessen your guilt, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.” Marg gaped a breath as Blackbird finally released her.
Anya removed her signet ring and slipped it onto Marg’s forefinger.
“I would like you to monitor my affairs while I am gone. The servants and my parents will let you in on every meeting once they see you have my signet. Most importantly, I need to know what Cyrus is doing. It is no secret I don’t trust that mangy cur.
So…I was hoping you could enchant something to tell me how things are back home. ”
Marg twirled a piece of her hair as she pondered. Now that she knew of her friend’s Elven parentage, a lot—no, everything—about Marg made sense. The lilac color in her hair, her long tapered ears, her incredible magic and inventions, right down to the out-of-season wine she served at the manor.
Marg slipped a surprisingly plain golden ring from her finger and palmed it. She placed her other hand atop it, then closed her eyes. A purple shimmer of energy peeked between her fingers. She opened her eyes, then slipped the ring onto Anya’s finger.
“I have connected this ring to your signet. If there is trouble, the ring will heat up. I should be able to control how hot, so you can tell if it is urgent.”
“And if you burn me?” Anya spun the ring on her finger.
“Let’s say that means ‘come back immediately.’ But I hope it does not come to that. Cyrus may dream of schemes, but he lacks the connections to put them into action. And if he tries, I’ll simply remind him who’s in charge.” Marg wiggled her fingers, sending tiny sparks from the tips.
“You’re incredible!” Blackbird bubbled, looking at the ring. Her joy vanished as her eyes fell to her own hands. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to do magic?”
Marg hummed thoughtfully. “You’re older now. There are some techniques we can try that could help you establish proper pathways through mana sharing. It’s a fickle process though. It’s very important that you don’t try it with anyone inexperienced. But when you return, I would love to tutor you.”
“Really?” Blackbird turned to Anya, her face pleading and expectant.
“You don’t need my permission, Blackbird. Your free time is your own.”
Blackbird squealed and pulled Anya toward the door. “What are we waiting for? The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back!”
Anya looked back at Marg and mouthed, “Sorry.”
Marg smiled and offered a playful wave. “I’ll see you two soon. Fair winds and calm seas.”