Her shoulder stabbed at her angrily. She tried to brush it off.
Deep breath. In and out, in and out. She surveyed the room, memorizing every detail of the moment. This mission was different. This was more of an illusion of freedom than she’d had in a long time. And then there was Aven. When they arrived at Mage Hall, she’d know exactly the magnitude of what she had been forced to do. There was no point in dwelling on that now, but she was still filled with dread.
For now, she sipped some steaming tea and watched him eat his porridge, trying not to be too obvious about it. She felt a strange, quiet peace and contentment. It couldn’t last forever, but for now she’d try to bottle it up in her mind to open up on another day, a rainier day, just to take a sniff of a memory and remember that there was at least this much good and peace in the world, that she had gotten a tiny slice of it in the midst of her pain.
Before breakfast, she had sorted out the details of a new saddle and some items for Aven with the innkeeper. All that was left to do was ready the horses and leave. She hoped the temperature hadn’t dropped too much with Aven’s snow because she wasn’t prepared well for deep winter travel. But perhaps she should hope for the opposite, or the snow would be that much more suspicious—and melted before they were even out of town, perhaps. They finished eating and headed out to get on the road.
As soon as she turned the corner and got a whiff of Kres, she knew something was wrong—or more specifically, Kres knew something was wrong that she didn’t. Cora, too, was shifting, antsy, nervous. In alarm, she sent her mind out in all directions just in time to feel a man running up behind her.
But not in enough time for her to turn around before the cloth was over her mouth, his arm circling her neck, her sight fading from the white of the cloud-covered sky to darkness.
8
Devotion
When Aven came to, for a few minutes, all he could really perceive was a splitting pain in his head, a sickening rocking motion, and an awful, dry, vinegar-tasting fabric in his mouth. He wanted to groan but felt too terrible to bother. He lay on his side. His hands were bound behind him. His body was pressed between something hard behind him and something soft and warm in front of him. After a while, the pain lessened, and he felt less dizzy, so he opened his eyes.
A few inches from his face was Mara’s. Her mouth was also bound, but her dark eyes were already open. She met his gaze. She nodded calmly to him as if to say, good, you’re awake, we can start figuring out how to get out of this mess.
He glanced around at their surroundings, trying to distract himself from the beauty of her eyes and what he now realized was the continuous pressing of her body against his. They appeared to be in the bed of a narrow wagon meant for seating men on each side. The sides were wood, and some canvas hung over the top for shelter—or secrecy, perhaps.
He listened as he studied their bumping, swaying prison. Mostly he could only hear horse’s hooves, but there were two men talking. At first he couldn’t make them out, then he realized—they were Takaran.
Why would a group of Takarans kidnap two strange travelers? What could they want? Or could it have been two mages they’d been kidnapping?
Perhaps they hadn’t heard the last of that stupid drunk yet.
He turned his eyes back to Mara. She had shut hers. Perhaps she was resting. Her red hair was tousled. He could feel her breath hit him evenly. Was it his imagination, or could he smell the faintest jasmine or lavender on her skin? Curves pressed against him drew his thoughts… but that was not helpful. He needed to focus on something that would get them out of this, not embarrass him for all time.
What were they saying?
He could only catch snippets of words, and none of them were particularly useful: horse, north, grain, fifty coins, river. He glanced down toward their feet but couldn’t see much. He closed his eyes again and just listened for a while.
Minutes or hours could have passed, or he could have fallen asleep. He wasn’t really sure. His head hurt less after a while. Little else changed.
Do you understand anything they’re saying? she spoke into his thoughts after a while.
He sat still, confused for a moment at how to respond.
Air mages can’t speak like this. Only creature mages can. Just think and I’ll hear you.
Can you always hear any of my thoughts? he tried to, well, think back at her.
Yes. If I’m listening. But it’s not that simple. Especially if you aren’t trying to tell me something, it’s hard to sort out the thought from the noise. It can drive a mage to madness. We don’t do it without need.
Well, no matter. He had nothing to hide.
Everyone has something to hide.
Oh. He hadn’t realized she would hear that. A smile crept to his lips in spite of himself. This could get interesting. I can understand some of what they’re saying, but not much. Nothing useful. Any idea who they are? he thought, perhaps to himself.
But she was indeed listening. No. I could get us out of these bindings by shifting us, but we’d be jumping out of the wagon into who knows what. Not sure how prepared they are or if they know we’re mages or not. Could be folks from the last village told them to pursue us. But if they don’t know we’re mages, we don’t want to reveal it.
He gritted his teeth into the gag at the thought. How could things like this go on in a civilized land? If he ever made it to the throne, he would find a way to crush these kinds of criminals.
You are an interesting fellow.
That thought wasn’t for you.
It wasn’t hidden from me, either. I thought you had nothing to hide.
He shook his head. What are we going to do? I wish I could see into your head like this. Talk about someone with something to hide.
I never claimed to be telling you everything. What kind of kidnapper would that make me?
Well, he thought it might make her an honest one. The thought jumped into his mind before he could stop it, and he immediately regretted it.
Honest, perhaps. Not a very good one, though, I think.
Thank goodness she didn’t seem offended. I’ll give you that. Kidnapping is not a talent I ever contemplated deeply. Perhaps he should have, though. He’d have to give more thought to the training of spies and assassins in his employ, given the latest events. Ack, military forces and their training were not the wisest things to be thinking about, that was for sure.
Deep breath. In and out, in and out. She surveyed the room, memorizing every detail of the moment. This mission was different. This was more of an illusion of freedom than she’d had in a long time. And then there was Aven. When they arrived at Mage Hall, she’d know exactly the magnitude of what she had been forced to do. There was no point in dwelling on that now, but she was still filled with dread.
For now, she sipped some steaming tea and watched him eat his porridge, trying not to be too obvious about it. She felt a strange, quiet peace and contentment. It couldn’t last forever, but for now she’d try to bottle it up in her mind to open up on another day, a rainier day, just to take a sniff of a memory and remember that there was at least this much good and peace in the world, that she had gotten a tiny slice of it in the midst of her pain.
Before breakfast, she had sorted out the details of a new saddle and some items for Aven with the innkeeper. All that was left to do was ready the horses and leave. She hoped the temperature hadn’t dropped too much with Aven’s snow because she wasn’t prepared well for deep winter travel. But perhaps she should hope for the opposite, or the snow would be that much more suspicious—and melted before they were even out of town, perhaps. They finished eating and headed out to get on the road.
As soon as she turned the corner and got a whiff of Kres, she knew something was wrong—or more specifically, Kres knew something was wrong that she didn’t. Cora, too, was shifting, antsy, nervous. In alarm, she sent her mind out in all directions just in time to feel a man running up behind her.
But not in enough time for her to turn around before the cloth was over her mouth, his arm circling her neck, her sight fading from the white of the cloud-covered sky to darkness.
8
Devotion
When Aven came to, for a few minutes, all he could really perceive was a splitting pain in his head, a sickening rocking motion, and an awful, dry, vinegar-tasting fabric in his mouth. He wanted to groan but felt too terrible to bother. He lay on his side. His hands were bound behind him. His body was pressed between something hard behind him and something soft and warm in front of him. After a while, the pain lessened, and he felt less dizzy, so he opened his eyes.
A few inches from his face was Mara’s. Her mouth was also bound, but her dark eyes were already open. She met his gaze. She nodded calmly to him as if to say, good, you’re awake, we can start figuring out how to get out of this mess.
He glanced around at their surroundings, trying to distract himself from the beauty of her eyes and what he now realized was the continuous pressing of her body against his. They appeared to be in the bed of a narrow wagon meant for seating men on each side. The sides were wood, and some canvas hung over the top for shelter—or secrecy, perhaps.
He listened as he studied their bumping, swaying prison. Mostly he could only hear horse’s hooves, but there were two men talking. At first he couldn’t make them out, then he realized—they were Takaran.
Why would a group of Takarans kidnap two strange travelers? What could they want? Or could it have been two mages they’d been kidnapping?
Perhaps they hadn’t heard the last of that stupid drunk yet.
He turned his eyes back to Mara. She had shut hers. Perhaps she was resting. Her red hair was tousled. He could feel her breath hit him evenly. Was it his imagination, or could he smell the faintest jasmine or lavender on her skin? Curves pressed against him drew his thoughts… but that was not helpful. He needed to focus on something that would get them out of this, not embarrass him for all time.
What were they saying?
He could only catch snippets of words, and none of them were particularly useful: horse, north, grain, fifty coins, river. He glanced down toward their feet but couldn’t see much. He closed his eyes again and just listened for a while.
Minutes or hours could have passed, or he could have fallen asleep. He wasn’t really sure. His head hurt less after a while. Little else changed.
Do you understand anything they’re saying? she spoke into his thoughts after a while.
He sat still, confused for a moment at how to respond.
Air mages can’t speak like this. Only creature mages can. Just think and I’ll hear you.
Can you always hear any of my thoughts? he tried to, well, think back at her.
Yes. If I’m listening. But it’s not that simple. Especially if you aren’t trying to tell me something, it’s hard to sort out the thought from the noise. It can drive a mage to madness. We don’t do it without need.
Well, no matter. He had nothing to hide.
Everyone has something to hide.
Oh. He hadn’t realized she would hear that. A smile crept to his lips in spite of himself. This could get interesting. I can understand some of what they’re saying, but not much. Nothing useful. Any idea who they are? he thought, perhaps to himself.
But she was indeed listening. No. I could get us out of these bindings by shifting us, but we’d be jumping out of the wagon into who knows what. Not sure how prepared they are or if they know we’re mages or not. Could be folks from the last village told them to pursue us. But if they don’t know we’re mages, we don’t want to reveal it.
He gritted his teeth into the gag at the thought. How could things like this go on in a civilized land? If he ever made it to the throne, he would find a way to crush these kinds of criminals.
You are an interesting fellow.
That thought wasn’t for you.
It wasn’t hidden from me, either. I thought you had nothing to hide.
He shook his head. What are we going to do? I wish I could see into your head like this. Talk about someone with something to hide.
I never claimed to be telling you everything. What kind of kidnapper would that make me?
Well, he thought it might make her an honest one. The thought jumped into his mind before he could stop it, and he immediately regretted it.
Honest, perhaps. Not a very good one, though, I think.
Thank goodness she didn’t seem offended. I’ll give you that. Kidnapping is not a talent I ever contemplated deeply. Perhaps he should have, though. He’d have to give more thought to the training of spies and assassins in his employ, given the latest events. Ack, military forces and their training were not the wisest things to be thinking about, that was for sure.
