Chapter Seven
Return Of A Foe
???
Dracyg Dominion, Zarynth.
Gedeon.
Almost a week had passed since the newest fledgling girl had begun her lessons with him, and Amala was already proving herself to be quite the wielder. She listened intently to every word Gedeon said, and had thus improved day after day. He had begun to almost admire her determined spirit.
On this day, however, something was different. ‘That was careless of you,’ he scolded her. She’d been unable to counter his attack, the blast knocking her from her feet. ‘Again.’
As soon as she stood, Gedeon threw another blast of magic at her. She gritted her teeth and let out a cry as her own magic soared out of her, but it was wild, weak and unfocused and his blast hit her square in the chest, catapulting her backwards.
She sat up after a moment, resting her elbows on her knees and breathing heavily. Gedeon approached her. ‘You cannot fight if your mind is not present. I pray you leave whatever troubles you outside of our sessions. It has no place here.’
Gedeon could feel her anger. Reckless, for her to show such emotions so openly. ‘Amala, look at me.’
Slowly, she lifted her head. Her face was set with tenacity, as though she were furiously holding back tears, but she did not dare break his gaze.
‘Is this to be a wasted session?’ Gedeon asked. ‘You have the potential to be a great wielder, Amala, but only if you are focused-’
‘I know my father is here,’ she interrupted him. Her bottom lip quivered. ‘I… I want to see him.’
Gedeon paused. Her defiance was bordering on stupidity. ‘Where have you heard this?’
Her gaze flickered and she deigned no reply, though her silence was enough to tell him how she’d acquired the information.
‘Need I remind you that sneaking around the castle is strictly forbidden?’
She swallowed. ‘I… I do not see why I cannot see him. He… he is my father. A lot of other fledglings have family here who they are also not allowed to see. I do not understand-’
‘You do not need to understand,’ Gedeon said coldly, patience weaning. ‘It is the way, it has always been the way, and it will not cease to be the way just because you do not like it.’
‘But we would be so much happier if we could just-’
‘You go too far, Amala,’ Gedeon thundered in a low voice.
She hung her head, tears falling from her eyes that could no longer be held back.
A foreign part of him stirred uncomfortably.
‘I have warned you before, your insolent mouth will not be received well here. If you wish to survive, you must learn to keep it shut.’
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and said stiffly, ‘Yes, Master Gedeon.’
He stared at her a little longer. Her blatant boldness was beginning to be a problem. It was one he had not had to face with a fledgling before, and yet it had him pausing.
It shouldn’t have made him ponder. He shouldn’t have cared about the human girl at all.
And yet…
Gedeon was speaking before he could second-guess himself. ‘If it will enhance your performance, and make your life here more comfortable, perhaps some time with your father would not be so disagreeable.’
Amala’s tear tracked face jerked up to look at him, but it was wary, as though she were frightened he would take the hope away. ‘Truly?’
‘I can promise nothing, but I will see what I can do,’ he told her. ‘You are a gifted wielder, and if seeing your father will aid your progress, then… perhaps it must be done.’
More tears threatened to fall, but she jutted out her chin and held them back once more. ‘Thank you, Master Gedeon.’
‘I cannot extend this courtesy to all fledglings, Amala. Do not speak of this to anyone else. In the meantime, you will not bring anything but your determination to succeed into these sessions. Do we have an agreement?’
She nodded fervently and immediately jumped to her feet. ‘Yes, Master Gedeon,’ she affirmed, though this time it was said with a small, coinciding smile. It made her look a lot younger than her twelve years.
His kindness was unwarranted and completely unorthodox. If Sekun caught wind of it, Gedeon would hardly be able to explain his momentary lapse in judgement. But if it made the girl a better wielder, it would be worth it.
Wouldn’t it?
???
The soft mattress underneath Gedeon moved as Sunsi rolled over to sit on the edge of his bed, donned her uniform and boots on her naked body, and crept without a word out of his dark chambers.
Why she bothered to sneak out of his room as though he was not aware she did so every night they spent together was beyond Gedeon.
She was not a whore, nor would he ever let anyone treat her as such for sharing his bed.
But it was normal for the captain to leave on her own terms, without a fuss.
Normal for them to greet one another the next day with the expected courtly formalities, no matter if just hours before their hands had been all over every inch of the other’s bare body.
Gedeon liked Sunsi a great deal, but it was not love, nor would it ever be. He was a prince. And despite her title as sentry captain, she was not a suitable match for his royal blood. Still, she was good company in all the ways that counted, and one of the only people in his city he actually liked.
Even as a prince of Zarynth, he was not quite as revered in Dracyg as his brother was.
Sekun, for some unfathomable reason, had won the hearts and minds of most in the city, both high born and low born alike.
A clear sign that Dracyg’s people were nothing but sheep with no brains, blindly following a shiny object in awe.
Perhaps the women and females foolishly hoped they would be his next princess once he became bored of the wife he already had.
Though Gedeon was sure that given the chance, Duchess Ysabell, Sekun’s third and current wife, would tell them that beneath the golden hair and arrogant, dazzling smiles, was a cruel and selfish male whose ambition for the throne soared far above any affection he was capable of showing his partner.
There was no love between his brother and Duchess Ysabell.
It was a marriage based solely on the strength of a good match, a high born female bound to the crown prince in the hopes that a worthy heir would be born between them.
The first two wives had produced no children, and for those failures found themselves mysteriously ill at the behest of Sekun’s impatience.
Duchess Ysabell had yet to bear his child, but they’d only been married a little over five years, a short period for a fae marriage, a shorter time still for a successful conception.
She still had time before Sekun sought out another vessel for his future spawn.
Gedeon would have been the better leader, he’d always known it.
But Emperor was not a title he had ever desired for himself, no matter how much the thought of Sekun on the throne made him nauseated.
He would serve his mother until her last days, even if the Empress’ vision of a united world was controversial to say the least.
And when Sekun eventually took the throne… well, perhaps Gedeon would miraculously disappear before his brother demanded a lifetime of servitude from him.
The Fire Warden powers that belonged to Gedeon meant little, if nothing, to Empress Azar.
Worship of the Four was an illegal practice in Dracyg by royal decree, and his mother not only showed no interest in his Fire, but almost seemed to despise it.
Unless of course she needed use of it… then her distrust was conveniently forgotten.
It was the Darkness within him that his mother was fascinated with.
Xados’ gift, night incarnate. She preferred to keep the knowledge of that power confined to the family.
The darkness that Sekun had always resented him for, had spent his entire life begrudging the fact that it had been Gedeon, and not him, that had been blessed by the God of Night.
Despite his mother’s distaste for his fire, Gedeon took as much pride in Eraura’s power as he did Xados’. He had been chosen, for what reason he could not fathom, but he alone had been chosen to carry the burden of power by two deities.
It was not a responsibility he had ever, nor would ever, take for granted.
In the black shadows of his room, something stirred.
Pulling the sheet from his naked body, he waved a hand. The torch brackets hanging on the walls sprung to fiery life, and Gedeon curiously approached the strange figure that had appeared in his room.
Flickering light spilled over a female on her knees.
Spiralling dark, wet hair hung over her shoulders, and her clothes and rich brown skin were spattered with blood he was fairly sure was not her own.
Pointed ears poked through her matted soaking hair, two small golden hoops through the cartilage decorating the left.
She stirred, lifting her head.
Bright, mossy green eyes stared at him for a moment, then her gaze dipped down his body, across his bare skin, all the way to his manhood.
Her bloodied mouth twitched, then she said in a throaty voice, ‘One last hurrah before inevitable death… is this some sort of guilt-ridden apology for a wrongful condemnation?’
From the way the common tongue rolled out of her smirking mouth, Gedeon gleaned she was a female from Vrethian’s capital, and quite clearly not a threat.
Certainly not in the state she was in, with her hands bound with iron behind her back and thick exhaustion on her voice.
Gedeon crouched before her, his voice a low hum as he asked curiously, ‘Who are you?’
‘You don’t know who I am?’ she whispered in a sort of outrage.
He had the feeling she was mocking him. ‘Clearly, or I would not have asked,’ Gedeon replied. ‘Tell me who you are.’
She smiled again, though this time it had a hint of bitterness to it. ‘Come closer and I’ll tell you.’