Chapter 22 #2
The muddled light had given way to darkness by the time Enhart pulled his horse off the main road.
My eyes tracked the path ahead as we wound through a copse of towering oak trees.
When we emerged from beneath their cover, I spied the manor that was to be our shelter for the evening.
The house was built of stone, with a spindly tower that looked like it might topple over at any moment.
A column of smoke unfurled from its chimney, carrying with it the promise of a hot meal. My stomach growled menacingly.
“The lord and lady of the house are in Valnar for the season,” Enhart informed me as he pulled Grim to a stop. He swung out of the saddle, landing quietly on the damp earth.
Relief washed over me. I was in no mood to socialize with the nobility after a long, muddy day.
The manor door swung open, revealing a stout old woman with her hands on her hips.
She raked her eyes over us: the Crown Prince of Valen, and his disheveled human—to her eyes, at least—companion.
She appeared outwardly unimpressed, but her inner curiosity tickled like a feather dragging across my skin.
I slid to the ground somewhat clumsily and ran my hands over my hair.
The housekeeper shuffled into the rain before tipping over into a bow. “Welcome, Your Royal Highness,” she said, revealing her fangs. “Lady Bryon regrets that she was unable to be here to greet you.”
Enhart waved a hand. “Not at all, Miss …?”
“Please, call me Katerina,” she said.
A young boy scampered out of the house, reaching for the horses’ reins. I relinquished them without hesitation. The horses whinnied as he led them toward the stables. They’d certainly earned their rest.
“I have a warm meal waiting for you inside,” she said. “I hope you like shepherd’s pie.”
My stomach growled again.
“I thank you, Katerina,” said Enhart, “although I’m afraid we have some matters to attend to before supper.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What matters?”
“Training,” he replied without missing a beat. “You didn’t think I would relent just because we’re no longer in Valnar, did you?”
“We’ve been riding all day,” I pointed out. “I’m tired. And hungry.”
He shot me a wry look. “Then you should be all the more eager to get this over with quickly.”
I cursed him silently as he ushered me toward the back of the manor, offering a polite nod to the housekeeper.
A herd of exceedingly fluffy sheep peered over at us from a neighbor’s pasture as we passed.
Their thick coats shielded them from the rain that spilled out of the clouds above us. We were not so lucky.
“We’ll focus on phasing this evening,” Enhart remarked. “Gods know you need the practice.”
I glanced wistfully at the stone walls of the manor.
Somewhere inside, a plate of creamy, hearty shepherd’s pie was losing heat while Enhart lectured me on proper form.
I wondered where Mordric was at this moment.
Probably cozy in his study, his fingers flipping through stacks of parchment covered in his elegant scrawl.
I could hear the comforting scratch of his quill, picture his handsome face focusing intently on the missives before him.
“Are you listening to me?”
I blinked at Enhart. “Er, yes.”
“Then what did I say?”
I shifted in my boots. “I’m to phase to the tree line?” I guessed, gesturing to the scraggly trees bordering the grounds. They had not yet begun to sprout their leaves.
He sighed. “If I tell you to phase to the tree line, odds are you’ll end up impaled on one of those branches over there.”
I shot him a dark look. A few days before we left Valnar, I had miscalculated my landing and nearly broken my nose against the side of a massive boulder.
I’d made it out just fine, save for the bump on the side of my head that was concealed beneath my hair.
When the prince had finally controlled his laughter, his eyes still wet with tears, he was able to choke out a single word: accuracy.
“To the mark. Go.”
My power rippled through me as I opened a portal, the air swirling before me. Eyeing the mark he had drawn in the dirt with his boot, I stepped into the empty space. A crackle in the air behind me signaled that the portal had closed.
“It’s not very pretty, but it’ll do,” he called.
I turned on my heel, opening another portal that spat me out to his left. Mud squelched beneath my boots as I steadied myself. “Oh now it has to be accurate and pretty?”
“I can’t imagine that you want to show up to your first council meeting, phasing in to impress the other advisers, only to fall immediately onto your ass,” he replied. “You keep slipping because your stance is unsteady.”
“I would never phase into a meeting for no reason.”
“You should. Remember that sitting on the council takes more than skill. It takes cunning and a healthy level of paranoia. A show of force will make it clear to them that you’re not to be trifled with.”
“Paranoia?” I echoed. “Why would they be paranoid?”
He shrugged. “Those seats are in high demand. Only one member of the council has kept theirs for more than a decade—Ansell. And that’s only because he’s the most treacherous of the lot.”
“Lord Volorthen?” I asked. “Really?”
“Really. He also served in the court of my father, who ruled for over five centuries. When he died ninety-one years ago, Ansell ushered the kingdom through Mordric’s coronation and into a new age in his name, or so they say.”
I tried to picture the chief adviser as a young man. Knowing him now, it was difficult to imagine him without the crevasses etched deep into his pallid skin, or the gloomy look that was plastered across his face. I wondered how much Valnar had changed since the early years of King Norrix’s reign.
“You have a unique skill set,” Enhart continued. “But that doesn’t mean that someone else wouldn’t be eager to try and show the King that you can somehow be replaced.”
In more ways than one, I imagined. I was more than just an adviser to Mordric, and the king’s hand was worth even more than a seat on his council. “I’ve been spending so much time preparing for the solstice that I didn’t really think about what comes next,” I admitted.
“They’ll keep you on your toes, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Sounds like court.”
I fiddled with the end of my braid. “Is that what Hollybrook will be like?”
He scoffed. “No. If anything I imagine it will be a bit dull.”
“How so?”
“Nervous, are you?”
I shot him a wry look. “If I admit that I am, will you tell me?”
He smirked. “No need. The spring term will be finished by the time we arrive, so most of the students will be gone. You’ll primarily be working with Chancellor Sorrell.”
“He’s a witch?” I asked.
“No, a vampire,” he replied. “And an ancient one at that.”
“More ancient than you and Mordric?”
“I’m not that old, you know. Nor is my brother. Even though he’s cantankerous enough to be a thousand.”
“Forgive me for thinking that someone over the age of two hundred is ancient.”
“Get used to it,” he replied. “After all, you’re likely to live nearly as long.”
I grunted. “So I’ve been told.”
“Chancellor Sorrell has worked beside some of the greatest witches in Valen’s history,” Enhart continued. “He’s recorded their techniques in tomes and compendia. His research has contributed to all kinds of innovations.”
“But—”
He shot across the garden, gesturing for me to follow. The air shimmered as I peeled it apart, stepping carefully through the portal that delivered me to his side.
“Why is it that every so-called expert on the arcane isn’t actually a witch?” I pressed.
“Are you familiar with the saying that the minstrel who hath lost his voice hath not a penny to spend?” he asked.
I snorted. “No.”
“Well then, I’ll remind you how few there are of your kind left. A dozen every generation, perhaps? Scattered across the kingdom and nearly impossible to track down.”
“Except for the one that tried to kill me in Valnar.”
“We don’t know that they were trying to kill you,” he reminded me. “We don’t even know if they’re a witch. It was just a theory.”
“Right,” I replied sardonically. “Because every blacksmith’s apprentice hides a ritual sacrifice in their cellar.”
He rolled his eyes. “The Chancellor is probably the only person alive who has witnessed the Ealdorfyre up close. Apart from your Outlander brethren, that is.”
I balked. “He’s seen it? You told me it was rare.”
“I didn’t say that he’d seen it recently. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to tell you the story.”
I bit back a retort.
“What?” he prodded. “Aren’t you glad that you’re soon going to be rid of me?”
Rain had soaked through his coat and his waves were glistening with rain drops, a curl dropping over his brow. I swallowed, avoiding his gaze. “Yes.”
“Good. Again.”