26 A Gift
A Gift
Elijah scowled at the incense burner.
The scent hung heavy in the parlour, stuffing itself down his throat and into his lungs until he could see nothing beyond its cloying sweetness. He had tried opening the window, but it was locked, and despite a rigorous search through the bookshelves and small drawers, he had found no key.
She was making him wait. She would arrive without apology and scold him for whatever he had done to displease her. It was time he wasn’t content to waste. He needed to speak to Vaelira, needed to explain. Once he did, she would understand. She had to.
The door swung open, the scented smoke shifting with the movement. Elijah stood. “Mother.”
Queen Mairese entered, waving a hand in front of her face.
She coughed once, crossed to the window, and unlocked it with a small key drawn from the pocket of her crimson dress.
She turned, her eyes flicking to his polished boots, his hair.
He had taken the time to comb it how she liked before answering her summons.
The fewer faults she could find, the sooner she would get to the point.
“Why would you sit in here with all that?” she asked, taking the armchair opposite him.
Elijah sat, his spine straight against the green velvet seat. “It was like this when I arrived.”
“You should have opened a window,” she said dismissively.
He didn’t answer. He wasn’t going to play her games, not with his patience already worn thin, not after an hour of waiting.
“I wanted to speak with you about your girl,” Queen Mairese said, folding her hands in her lap.
Elijah kept his expression smooth. “Which girl?”
“I understand you two have grown close.”
“Not particularly.”
She smiled slightly. Elijah cursed himself for the slip. He drew a quiet breath. “I thought you had moved past your obsession with her?”
She tilted her head, like a cat preparing to pounce. “I hear she has been having difficulty with her training.”
“Not that I have heard.”
His hand twitched, but he resisted the urge to touch his chest. The last time he had seen Vaelira she had burned him.
He could have thrown her in the dungeons for it, should have thrown her in the dungeons, but he had been the fool who kissed her.
After everything that had happened that night, it was too much.
She had stood there, all despair and self-doubt, and he had wanted to take the pain away, had wanted her. She was meant to be his salvation, and he needed every part of her, body, and soul.
Now, she wouldn’t even speak to him, as if everything he had done for her meant nothing. As if he meant nothing. His fingers clenched in his lap.
“You have not heard of her difficulties?” Queen Mairese mused. Elijah shook his head. Her smile widened, like she couldn’t help herself. “She is a mage.”
His heart stopped.
She continued, as though she hadn’t noticed blood no longer pulsed in her son’s veins.
“A few weeks before he died, Kolborn mentioned a certain glow. A shame. He was a good informant.” She sighed and began adjusting the rings on her fingers.
“Lorven is an adequate replacement. He did what Kolborn never managed.” She paused, twisting her rings.
Elijah bit his tongue. He couldn’t let her know how desperately he needed answers, how desperately he wanted to leave this room and find Vaelira.
“She attacked another recruit,” she said, lifting her gaze. “Can you believe it?”
He shook his head stiffly. His body wasn’t his own. It felt like he was separated from it, as if someone was forcing his muscles to move.
She tutted, the sound sharp and cold. “You spend quite some time together. At the tavern, at that little townhouse you bought for the disgraced Commander… skulking in alleyways,” she ticked each one off on her fingers. “I find it difficult to believe it never came up.”
He clenched his jaw, ignoring the prick of anger at being watched. He could deny it, but her expression told him everything. She knew, and he would get nothing if he denied it now. “I had hoped she could help stop the violence in New Town,” he said plainly.
The Queen frowned. “What do we care for the filth? Let the peasants kill each other over their petty grievances.”
Elijah studied her. She had to have heard about the chapel. She had to know it was more than that.
“We must keep our focus where it matters,” she said. “Your father is gravely ill.”
“What does that have to do with Vaelira?”
When her eyes met his, he saw something he’d only seen once before, the day before Laurence died. Desperation.
She leaned forward. “She will heal him and in return I will spare her life. It is what the gods want. I know it in my bones.”
Elijah shook his head in disbelief. “How do you even know she can heal him?”
“Priestess Dastane came to see your father. She told me I must place my faith in the gods. I prayed, all day and all night. I prayed even when my body could no longer keep me upright. I lay on the cold stone and prayed until sleep took me. And when I woke, I prayed again. The gods have rewarded my faith.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she twisted one of her rings.
“The Three see all.” She looked up, a crease forming between her brows.
“I have spoken with the Priestess again. She told me this girl is a gift from the gods.”
“The priests led the mage hunts. How can you trust anything they say?”
“The Priestess would not lie,” she said, eyes flashing. “The girl was created by Embral as a gift. She will cure your father, and afterwards, she will serve the Crown. Balance, as Issar intends. The First Three will it.”
Elijah noted she had conveniently not mentioned Kharos, the God of Destruction.
He drew in a long breath and leaned back.
Beyond her fevered beliefs, it made some sense.
Mages had once been healers before fear and ignorance drove them to extinction.
Now, the price of essensia was death. It was the oldest law, but laws could be changed, and when he was King, he would change them. He would change them for her.
In the meantime, the King would owe Vaelira his life. His father would pardon her, Elijah was certain of it. She could help freely, and with the King’s blessing, the summoners wouldn’t stand a chance.
He would finally prove them all wrong. prove he was worthy of the crown, the first Mage Queen at his side. “What do you plan to tell the council?”
“The court is a nest of cowards,” she said. “They have been circling since the chapel collapsed. The girl will be easy to blame. Once I show them her power, they will believe whatever story I give them.”
“Revealing her power could sow distrust.”
“Better distrust than open rebellion. Fear of mages still runs deep in the old families, deeper than their fear of me. Let them think we have leashed one of these summoners.”
“I still think it is a risk. There are too many ways it could go wrong.” Once they saw her power, panic was more likely than the quiet fear his mother hoped for.
She considered him for a moment, her eyes narrowing. He kept his expression smooth, refusing to let her see through the facade to his racing pulse beneath. She clicked her tongue. “Fine. We will tell them, not show them. Anyone who dares call me a liar can hang.”
She rose and crossed to the door.
Elijah hesitated, but only for a moment. He would fix this, and when Vaelira looked at him again, it would be with gratitude. Not fear.