“Yes, he checked my maps for this mission,” she said. “I’m not sure what it means. I have never worked with him like this. I’m always alone.”
“You’re afraid of his arrival,” he said matter-of-factly.
She nodded, then frowned. The implied question was why. “I can’t think of any specific reason. Perhaps it’s that this mission is almost complete. Or perhaps it’s that I don’t want to complete it. I just don’t know.” She winced and rubbed the throbbing in her shoulder absently. The pain faded quickly as she let her resistance slip from her mind. She let her thoughts go blank. This could be the last time she could talk to him without Sorin around, she realized. Was there anything she could tell him, any way to prepare him for Sorin or what was to come? “You know, I did not know you would be a mage,” she said as quickly as she could. “You must try to hide it if you can. He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know.”
His face fell. “Mara, you know that’s not exactly my specialty.”
“You can do it,” she urged him. “I know you can. You’ve learned so much, so quickly.”
“What type of mage is he?”
“An air mage.”
“Great! He’ll know it the minute he sees me.”
“No, he won’t. He won’t be looking for it. He’s not a spy. He doesn’t remember being untrained; he has no idea what it’s like not to have control of his power. It won’t be as obvious as you think.” She wondered if what she was saying had any relation to the truth. She didn’t care; she just hoped he believed. Perhaps if he believed he could, he might stumble on a way to actually hide it.
“And—” she started but then faltered, unsure of how to say what she needed to. Well, imperfect was better than nothing. “We must not let on that we are anything but… kidnapper and captive. They will use it against us, I’m sure of it.”
“Are we anything other than that?” he said gently.
Her mouth fell open slightly, and she wished for a moment she could just melt into the earth. “Aven, I…”
He shook his head. “Of course. It’s fine. That is one thing I can hide, although I wish I didn’t have to.”
She struggled to regain her composure. “We—we must prepare to leave, as if we were already planning to. He has our horses. That’s how I found him, looking for them. I’m not sure how much time we have, but I would rather we looked busy.”
He nodded and reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head. She got to her knees to leave the tent, but a crazy thought occurred to her, and she hesitated.
In a week, he might be dead. Or in a day. Or she might never see him again. Sorin could sweep him away and send her back with orders to fly the rest of the way.
What if this was the last time she saw him at all?
She stopped, frozen in indecision. Should she let him continue to believe her lie? She could lean over right now, kiss him hard on the mouth, run her fingers through his hair, feel his hands reach for her, and end the lie in a moment. This was likely the last moment of unguarded freedom she would ever have, and part of her soul was dying for him to know the truth—that she really did love him. That if they’d been born in different lives, she would have kissed him with abandon, become his partner, and never looked back.
But she didn’t move. More of her wanted him to take any opportunity to run. More of her did not want him to know her torment—or any of the past, present, or future forms of it.
It took all her strength to move, to pass this opportunity by, to plunge out of this brief respite from her life and back into reality. She shifted her weight and crawled out from the tent, and—
Sorin’s boots greeted her standing just before her, an amused smile on his face.
“My, my, Miara,” he said, his voice dark. “What have you been up to?”
12
Star Mage
Aven heard the voice outside the tent and knew the other mage had already arrived. Had he heard what she’d said? Well, it was too late, but he hoped not. He straightened himself so that it didn’t look like they’d been up to anything. When he felt at least reasonably presentable, he got to his knees and crawled out of the tent.
The mage stood before the tent, as did Mara, and they were talking in hushed tones. The man was shorter than Aven, with nearly white hair, a thin face, and frowning eyes that seemed more than a little bitter. He did not seem physically fit, more of a scholar’s figure—how did he ride those horses at all with that bony frame?—but he still cut a striking image in dark, almost black Kavanar leather. The two mages were engaged in hushed conversation.
“They couldn’t wait, eh? Told me she’d wait a turning of the moon,” Mara said, voice rough.
The man shrugged. “Since when have they had any sense? Or manners? Or kept a promise? I’m just following orders like you, love.”
Aven tried not to bristle at those words, but his shoulders tightened. Could he find an excuse to punch this scrawny bastard in the mouth? Or perhaps a well-time and well-placed elbow in the kidney as an “accident” would be more appropriate. The new mage’s eyes flicked to him for a moment for the first time. Maybe it would be harder to hide Aven’s feelings than he’d thought.
Thankfully, Mara did not react to the mage’s affectionate turn of phrase. “Yes, well, I’m glad you brought the horses, at least.” She sounded more irritated than pleased to see him. Small wins.
“How were you parted from them, might I ask?” Did the mage’s voice sound suspicious, or was Aven only imagining it?
“We were attacked by Devoted Knights, days ago. Barely made it out alive.”
The mage gave a crisp nod. His demeanor was strangely similar to Mara in some ways—confident, self-assured, down to business fast—but for some reason he seemed completely unlike her at the same time. Aven instantly did not like the man. He was hiding something, Aven was sure of it. Aven knew the way a man acted when he wanted to hide something; too many men acted that way around kings. Recognizing it was a survival trait.
Now the mage turned back to him. “Well, well, so this is him, huh? I can’t believe you pulled this off.” He looked Aven up and down from head to toe and back again. Aven returned his appraisal with a scowl, crossing his arms across his chest. He didn’t have to be in love with Mara to be annoyed with the disrespect in that comment. “I really didn’t think you could do it until I saw it with my own eyes.”
“You’re afraid of his arrival,” he said matter-of-factly.
She nodded, then frowned. The implied question was why. “I can’t think of any specific reason. Perhaps it’s that this mission is almost complete. Or perhaps it’s that I don’t want to complete it. I just don’t know.” She winced and rubbed the throbbing in her shoulder absently. The pain faded quickly as she let her resistance slip from her mind. She let her thoughts go blank. This could be the last time she could talk to him without Sorin around, she realized. Was there anything she could tell him, any way to prepare him for Sorin or what was to come? “You know, I did not know you would be a mage,” she said as quickly as she could. “You must try to hide it if you can. He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know.”
His face fell. “Mara, you know that’s not exactly my specialty.”
“You can do it,” she urged him. “I know you can. You’ve learned so much, so quickly.”
“What type of mage is he?”
“An air mage.”
“Great! He’ll know it the minute he sees me.”
“No, he won’t. He won’t be looking for it. He’s not a spy. He doesn’t remember being untrained; he has no idea what it’s like not to have control of his power. It won’t be as obvious as you think.” She wondered if what she was saying had any relation to the truth. She didn’t care; she just hoped he believed. Perhaps if he believed he could, he might stumble on a way to actually hide it.
“And—” she started but then faltered, unsure of how to say what she needed to. Well, imperfect was better than nothing. “We must not let on that we are anything but… kidnapper and captive. They will use it against us, I’m sure of it.”
“Are we anything other than that?” he said gently.
Her mouth fell open slightly, and she wished for a moment she could just melt into the earth. “Aven, I…”
He shook his head. “Of course. It’s fine. That is one thing I can hide, although I wish I didn’t have to.”
She struggled to regain her composure. “We—we must prepare to leave, as if we were already planning to. He has our horses. That’s how I found him, looking for them. I’m not sure how much time we have, but I would rather we looked busy.”
He nodded and reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head. She got to her knees to leave the tent, but a crazy thought occurred to her, and she hesitated.
In a week, he might be dead. Or in a day. Or she might never see him again. Sorin could sweep him away and send her back with orders to fly the rest of the way.
What if this was the last time she saw him at all?
She stopped, frozen in indecision. Should she let him continue to believe her lie? She could lean over right now, kiss him hard on the mouth, run her fingers through his hair, feel his hands reach for her, and end the lie in a moment. This was likely the last moment of unguarded freedom she would ever have, and part of her soul was dying for him to know the truth—that she really did love him. That if they’d been born in different lives, she would have kissed him with abandon, become his partner, and never looked back.
But she didn’t move. More of her wanted him to take any opportunity to run. More of her did not want him to know her torment—or any of the past, present, or future forms of it.
It took all her strength to move, to pass this opportunity by, to plunge out of this brief respite from her life and back into reality. She shifted her weight and crawled out from the tent, and—
Sorin’s boots greeted her standing just before her, an amused smile on his face.
“My, my, Miara,” he said, his voice dark. “What have you been up to?”
12
Star Mage
Aven heard the voice outside the tent and knew the other mage had already arrived. Had he heard what she’d said? Well, it was too late, but he hoped not. He straightened himself so that it didn’t look like they’d been up to anything. When he felt at least reasonably presentable, he got to his knees and crawled out of the tent.
The mage stood before the tent, as did Mara, and they were talking in hushed tones. The man was shorter than Aven, with nearly white hair, a thin face, and frowning eyes that seemed more than a little bitter. He did not seem physically fit, more of a scholar’s figure—how did he ride those horses at all with that bony frame?—but he still cut a striking image in dark, almost black Kavanar leather. The two mages were engaged in hushed conversation.
“They couldn’t wait, eh? Told me she’d wait a turning of the moon,” Mara said, voice rough.
The man shrugged. “Since when have they had any sense? Or manners? Or kept a promise? I’m just following orders like you, love.”
Aven tried not to bristle at those words, but his shoulders tightened. Could he find an excuse to punch this scrawny bastard in the mouth? Or perhaps a well-time and well-placed elbow in the kidney as an “accident” would be more appropriate. The new mage’s eyes flicked to him for a moment for the first time. Maybe it would be harder to hide Aven’s feelings than he’d thought.
Thankfully, Mara did not react to the mage’s affectionate turn of phrase. “Yes, well, I’m glad you brought the horses, at least.” She sounded more irritated than pleased to see him. Small wins.
“How were you parted from them, might I ask?” Did the mage’s voice sound suspicious, or was Aven only imagining it?
“We were attacked by Devoted Knights, days ago. Barely made it out alive.”
The mage gave a crisp nod. His demeanor was strangely similar to Mara in some ways—confident, self-assured, down to business fast—but for some reason he seemed completely unlike her at the same time. Aven instantly did not like the man. He was hiding something, Aven was sure of it. Aven knew the way a man acted when he wanted to hide something; too many men acted that way around kings. Recognizing it was a survival trait.
Now the mage turned back to him. “Well, well, so this is him, huh? I can’t believe you pulled this off.” He looked Aven up and down from head to toe and back again. Aven returned his appraisal with a scowl, crossing his arms across his chest. He didn’t have to be in love with Mara to be annoyed with the disrespect in that comment. “I really didn’t think you could do it until I saw it with my own eyes.”
