The Sorceress and the Spider King (Fairytales Forever #3)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
T he trees whispered to Neve while she ran.
Her black hooded robes billowed as she hurtled up the uneven stone steps to Starlight Gardens with a wax-sealed scroll gripped in her hand. The parchment, passed to her at the Gardens’ entrance by a royal messenger, was addressed strictly to the High Magus himself.
As an apprentice sorceress, Neve understood some of the whisperings of the old-growth forest. Lichen-covered branches swayed overhead in the fresh air of early autumn. They spoke of treachery and, she thought, bloodshed.
The castle of Starlight Gardens came into view, the sandstone towers bright against the dark face of the mountainside. Trees stood higher than the highest tower and green vines cascaded over the balconies and open stairwells. A waterfall arced from a crevice, creating misty rainbows as the afternoon sunshine passed through the water.
Neve ducked and weaved around her fellow mages in the quadrangle, many of whom were practicing levitation, the hems of their robes at her eye level.
The High Magus resided in the north tower. His wing contained a workshop, a library, and a ritual parlor. Almost always, he could be found in the workshop. Neve slowed to a walk as she approached the door, flushed in the face and puffing.
Once she regained enough breath to speak, she knocked. While she waited, she pushed the hood of her robes back, her long black hair spilling out. The High Magus could identify any of his staff or students by their auras, but showing one’s face when greeting another person within the Gardens was good etiquette.
The Head Guide to the apprentices, Fouzia, answered the door. Her hood was off, showing her clever green eyes, gray hair, and sharp chin. Beyond her, the tall silhouette of the Magus glided around in the shadowy workshop.
“Welcome, Neve. What may I do for you?”
“Good afternoon, Fouzia.” She held out the scroll. “A courier from the Klatos palace gave this to me. He said it was important.”
“The palace thinks everything they do is important.” Fouzia clicked her tongue and took the parchment. “Especially since Meliohr became queen of Zermes last month. We’ve never had so many important messages from the palace.” She cocked her brow at Neve. “I hope running these errands is not interfering with your studies?”
Neve shook her head. “I don’t mind doing it.”
“Perhaps we ought to have concocted a more elaborate punishment for you then. Abandoning the Starlight Gardens delegation to hunt Polinth, a deranged sorcerer, alongside a siren and a pirate was most irregular behavior.”
“But the High Magus?—”
“I know, child. He asked you to help them. But he said nothing about boarding a ship out to sea.”
Neve fought the urge to protest. She was twenty-three years old. Hardly a child.
“Anyway, what’s done is done.” Fouzia lowered her voice and leaned forward. “And between you and me, the things most worth doing in life constitute irregular behavior. ” She winked and Neve smiled in return. “Tell me, how is your academic progress?”
“Uh, fine. I keep falling when I try to levitate, but my Camouflaging is doing quite well.”
The Guide gave an approving nod. “We all have talents that come innately, and others that require more practice. Rens erdit helom .”
“ Rens erdit helom ,” she repeated dutifully. “Mastery of the mind.”
In the language of the ancient Shirrani mystics, the phrase was the motto of Starlight Gardens.
“Quite right,” said Fouzia. “Non-mages always seem to believe complicated hand movements and incantations are the heart of sorcery. Those things may help give direction to your magical energy, but your mind ultimately shapes and directs your spells. Mastery of your mind is key.”
“I wish magic was as simple as hand movements and the right words,” said Neve with a wistful sigh. “I’d have a much easier time of it.”
“Know yourself, accept yourself. Then, you will master yourself.” Fouzia flexed her hand, which was darkened from decades of performing magic. Experience in magic of any kind—light or dark—progressively blackened a mage’s hands. It was a badge of honor, and meant the sorcerer was coming into their full power. “Well, I ought to ferry this to the High Magus, since it is very important. Go and practice your levitation.”
Neve’s eyes flicked to the parchment, her curiosity burning. Queen Meliohr came from the Morktland royal family, the Garstangs, who were infamous for their hatred of magic and sorcerers. Why would she write to the High Magus?
“I will, Fouzia. Thank you.”
The Guide closed the door, leaving Neve to pull up her hood and step away.
The hood helped sorcerers to contain their mind-energy, providing a thin barrier between themselves and the outside world. It was particularly useful beyond the enchanted perimeter of Starlight Gardens, where the energy of regular people was immense and unpredictable. Advanced sorcerers developed their minds to become impervious to such interference, but Neve still very much appreciated the hood.
Before she resumed her studies, Neve needed to track down Beatrice, because it was almost dinnertime. After detouring to the kitchens to fetch meat from the larder, she continued to the wolfhound’s favorite spot. In the afternoons, Beatrice luxuriated on a crumbling stone bridge behind the dormitories, sunning her stomach and stretching occasionally.
As Neve crossed the bridge, she peered over the side at the deep chasm in the black granite far below. At night, it appeared endless, like an abyss. On the other side of the bridge lay the dense green forest.
“Hello, Beatrice,” said Neve with a smile as she reached the end of the walkway.
The enormous shaggy, gray wolfhound raised her head from the sun-drenched stone, blinking lazily and sniffing the air hopefully.
“How’s your day been?” asked Neve as she crouched to pat the old dog, scratching behind her ears and stroking her soft head. “You’ve managed to find the warmest spot in the entire Gardens, I believe.”
She placed the bowl of chopped organ meat near Beatrice, who scrambled onto her three legs and gulped the food. The wolfhound had been abandoned by merchants in a nearby village two years ago with an injured front leg. Neve convinced Fouzia to bring the hound back to Starlight Gardens with them.
The apprentices with a talent for Healing couldn’t save her leg, but after surgery, they dressed the wound and eased her pain. Since then, she’d led a charmed existence inside the Garden walls. In winter, when the chilly mountain air began to bite, Neve snuck Beatrice into her dormitory to curl up in front of the fire overnight.
“What do you suppose the palace wants?” murmured Neve as Beatrice ate. “Their attention makes me nervous. I preferred when we were ignored, as we have been for the past decade when King Leonid ruled alone.”
Beatrice replied by scarfing the rest of her bowl. Then, she shook her body, looked around, and settled back onto the warm stone. Her chin rested on her front paw and she blinked at Neve.
The sorceress bent to kiss the top of her head and pick up the empty bowl. “The weather is getting cool at nighttime and the fire in my room is ready whenever you are. But don’t tell Fouzia. She believes you’re spoilt.”
Beatrice wriggled to get more comfortable, her eyes falling closed.
Neve returned the bowl to the kitchen, then dawdled to the quadrangle with vague plans to practice levitation. Like anyone, she enjoyed practicing things she was good at, and levitation wasn’t one of those things. The moment she thought too hard about the fact that she was in the air, she’d drop like a sack of stones.
“Here comes Fouzia’s little messenger,” said Caryn as she approached her friends. “Did you uncover any dirt? Is the Magus having an affair with Meliohr, do you think? Pen pals? Collaborators?”
He and Lumi reclined on the wooden benches surrounding the gnarled, leafy tree in the center of the quad. His blond hair and freckly face were covered by his hood, as were Lumi’s cropped brown hair and glasses. Caryn’s magical specialty was reading auras and Lumi was a gifted Healer. As far as people knew, Neve didn’t have a specialty, which was considered unfortunate but not unusual.
“I’ve no idea.” Neve sat beside Caryn. “Fouzia gave nothing away.”
“You didn’t take a peek?” he asked. “If they’re going to punish you by making you run errands, the least you could do is make the most of the situation.”
Lumi scoffed. “Only a fool would read the correspondence of the High Magus.”
“Maybe the new queen wants magic from us,” said Caryn. “Remember after the wedding? As soon as her brother Reynard returned to Morktland, she got rather cozy with the High Magus.”
“The awful masks they made everyone wear at the wedding,” said Lumi with a shiver. “I believe the court was trying to disguise the king’s appearance. Why exactly, I don’t know, and I dread to speculate.”
“And yet, here we are,” said Neve with a smirk. “Speculating.”
“Well, what else are we going to do?” replied Lumi, leaning back on her hands. “Study?”
“Perhaps Queen Meliohr is dissatisfied with her new husband’s performance,” went on Caryn. “Maybe she wants to stoke his internal fire so that they might produce an heir. Or maybe he’s bothering her too much with his incredible virility and she wants to put the fire out . Which do you believe it is?”
Lumi gave his arm a playful slap. “You’re disgusting.”
“It could be true! Decrepit king or not, Meliohr must surely want to secure her position by producing an heir before Leonid croaks. Or maybe she wishes to do away with him instead. Kill him with magic.”
Neve stood. “We don’t do such things here.” Her tone was sharper than she intended, and she adjusted her voice before continuing. “That’s the domain of vile practitioners, like Polinth.”
“Of course.” Caryn pushed off his hood, peering up at her. “I only jest.”
Lumi tipped her hood back, too. “Are you alright, Neve?”
“Yes.” Her face grew warm. Neve’s skin was the color of snow and always revealed even the slightest blush, which she loathed. Not for the first time, she was grateful for the hood obscuring her expression. “I need to practice. I’ll see you both at dinner?”
Her friends had been practicing their craft all day, at their own pace. Formal classes were held two days per week. The rest of their study was self-directed, accompanied by intermittent input from the Guides and, very occasionally, the High Magus himself.
Lumi nodded. “See you at dinner.”
Caryn lay on the bench, sunning himself in much the same way as the wolfhound. “Remember: Rens erdit helom. ”
“ Rens erdit helom ,” she muttered in reply.
Neve made her way to an empty, secluded parlor on the ground floor of the main building. The room was musty and dimly lit, sunlight filtering through colorful stained glass windows. Rows of wooden shelves lined the walls, full of leather-bound books, yellowed stacks of parchment, and corked potion bottles. Dried herbs hung in bunches from the ceiling and a circle surrounded by Shirrani symbols was painted in the center of the stone floor.
Standing inside the circle, Neve closed her eyes and tried to gather her flailing thoughts. She was determined to master an ability other than the one she kept a shameful secret. The ability was as ghastly as it was rare.
On the night of the royal wedding, when she’d helped the siren Riella and her pirate lover defeat the dark sorcerer Polinth, Neve almost thought she’d have to use her hidden ability against him. Would it have even worked? Polinth was legendarily powerful, behind perhaps only the High Magus and the late Levissina. Binding him for a few seconds had been difficult enough.
Summoning magical energy was always easier in a dangerous situation, thanks to the heightened emotions, so perhaps she could’ve managed. But, as Fouzia always reminded the apprentices, preparedness was the key to conjuring wisely in the heat of the moment. Diligent training was of paramount importance.
So, for now she practiced levitation, ignoring the secret pitch-black segment of her mind that constantly, if quietly, begged to be set loose.