empress of storms (11 page)

Danaë considered her next words with care. Slandering another mage was a serious charge, and despite Ife’s service her personal loyalties were unknown. “Not without sacrificing any sense of personal integrity, not to mention the good opinion of my new husband,” she said. “My tutor wishes certain … liberties. I’m not willing to provide them.”

From the disgusted expression that bloomed on Ife’s face, she had read between the lines. “Ah. One of those.”

“Indeed. And he does have a long and distinguished record of service to the Order, so complaining to the Grand Synod is pointless, even if they would listen to me.” She had no illusions on that regard. The ruling body of the Order, known as the Grand Synod, was comprised of the grand magisters from each kingdom on the continent. They were both influential and notoriously protective of their colleagues. The Grand Synod was overseen by a quartet of mages known as the Four Elements, high grand magisters so ancient and powerful that they spent the bulk of their time performing esoteric research and pushing back the boundaries of magic. Danaë had never even seen one of the Elements, and rumor had it that their very names—Jogimo, diNorcia, Epilonious, Ceit—had gained so much magical power that they could now be used in spell-casting. To apply to them for help was unthinkable. She would have better luck attracting the attention of the gods. “As long as I’m unwilling to surrender my royal person, Grand Magister Pelas is unwilling to see me advance to magistra. Hence my permanent status as adept.”

Ife nodded, still glowering. “I’ve never been fond of the top-heavy structure of the Synod. It may have worked once upon a time, but these days the grand magisters take advantage of their power far too often.” She put her goblet down on a nearby table and sat up straight. “Still, it’s not good for an adept to stop practicing altogether. Magical talent is like a flood—if it’s not dammed and channeled, it becomes destructive.”

“Believe me, I know,” Danaë said quietly. Over the past year a constant sense of tension had existed in her bones and muscles, an unconscious restraint of the elemental power that demanded to be channeled through her. “Today is the first time since my father’s death that I haven’t felt like insects were crawling over my skin.”

“I can imagine.” A corner of the mage’s mouth quirked up. “Majesty, I’d like to propose something. If you wish, I would be happy to offer my services as interim tutor. I can’t give you your adept’s test unless this Pelas releases you from his authority, and from the sound of things that will happen when pigs fly. But any qualified magister can oversee an adept’s exercises. If nothing else it’ll reduce the strain on you and give you greater comfort. And with any luck this Pelas could drop dead of something. Then you’ll be in perfect position to take the adept’s test.”

Danaë wished she were that lucky. “Magistra, I thank you for your offer. But Grand Magister Pelas has a long memory for those who cross him.” It was the reason why no Hellene mage had wanted to work with her. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

Ife went a bit wintry. “Young lady, I am not under Grand Magister Pelas’s direct authority,” she said, her tone crisp. “I am an Aqua mage of Ypres, and before that Ghobos. I find I have time in my schedule to tutor an adept, and I am willing to offer that time to you. But it’s up to you whether or not you wish to use it. I won’t influence your decision one way or the other.” She stood, smoothing her robes. “Your maidservant knows how to find me. Do let me know when you’ve made your decision—”

“Wait.” Danaë was already on her feet. A year away from regular practice had caused her to forget how prickly mages could get. “I accept your offer, with thanks and gratitude. If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure. Then we’ll begin tomorrow. Have the servants clear a space in one of the palace courtyards, and make sure there are tubs or hogsheads full of water nearby. I plan on putting you through your paces.” Ife eyed her silk gown and smiled. “Oh, and wear something that won’t be ruined when it gets wet.”

****

“Forgive me for speaking my mind, sire, but I don’t like this,” Bardahlson said.

“I’m aware of that, commander,” Matthias said, toying with a quill pen. It was a week after the demon attack, and the Hellenes’ stay in Mons was coming to an end. “But all things considered, I would feel better knowing that you remained here in Ypres while the queen and I travel to Hellas. Holding down the fort, so to speak.”

Bardahlson’s mustache bristled. “My second in command is a most capable officer. He can take over for me while I escort you and the queen to Hellaspont.”

They were already two days late starting out for Danaë’s homeland. Matthias had held off until he was sure she had recovered. It took her informing him in no uncertain terms that she was queen of Hellas, thank you very much, and she was more than capable of traveling to her own country. An amused Ife had backed her up. Matthias had no choice after that but to order the royal convoy to be formed.

But that meant leaving Ypres without an official hand at the tiller. He knew Verheyen and the councilors would manage everything in his absence, but after Lukas’s betrayal he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. “I’m sure he’s more than capable. But you are the one who holds the personal loyalty of the garrison commanders. I would prefer you to stay here and keep watch over Ypres until I return.”

“Make sure Prince Lukas can’t pop out of whatever ferret hole he’s been hiding in and take the country by fiat, you mean,” Bardahlson rumbled.

Matthias gave his cavalry commander a cold look. “I meant precisely what I said, commander.”

Bardahlson was unrepentant. “Sire, Prince Lukas may be many things but he was never a fool. Launching a direct attack on the country would be doomed to failure, unless he’d managed to raise an army in the interim. As there is no news of forces marching on our borders, I think we can rest easy on that front. No, the best way to strike at you would be to do it on the road, most likely by staging an ambush in the Arpinnes.”

“Which I am aware of and will take care to avoid,” Matthias said, tired of arguing. “Gods, man, I’ll have at least a hundred people with me, a good half of them cavalry and royal guards.”

“And the rest of them useless courtiers.”

“Perhaps. If it salves your conscience, we’ll take your second in command with us as the convoy commander. His name is Schrader, isn’t it?”

“Lars Schrader, yes.” Bardahlson drummed his thick fingers on the desk. “He’d do, I suppose.”

“You were ready to leave him in charge of the country’s defense,” Matthias reminded him. “If he’s capable of that, he’s capable of overseeing the royal convoy’s security.”

“I hate it when you chop logic, sire. Fine. I’ll have him pack and get ready. But I’m sending couriers with you and I ask that you send back regular reports. For the councilors’ sake, of course.”

“Of course.” Matthias stood, picking up a signed document and handing it over. “Here’s your official charge giving you oversight of the military. And try not to run too roughshod over the council while I’m gone. Verheyen still complains about the last time I was out of the country.”

Bardahlson smirked at that, but struck his chest with his fist in salute. “As you wish, sire. And gods’ speed to you.”

After seeing the commander out Matthias headed over to the Hellenes’ office. As he expected, Danaë was packing various official papers into a case while Darius sprawled in the visitor’s chair with a goblet in one hand and a document in the other.

“Brother, do sit up when my husband comes into the room,” his wife ordered as he entered.

“My apologies, your majesty,” Darius said, shifting until he was sitting up more or less. “Last night was a rather long one.”

“Women or gaming?” Matthias asked, interested. The prince’s appetites had become legendary in the near fortnight he’d been resident in Mons, particularly among the scions of the Ypresian nobility. Matthias had already fielded a few angry fathers complaining about sons with lightened purses or battered faces. Thankfully there had been no reports of noble daughters who’d had their skirts lifted, but he thought it best that Danaë’s brother leave while his luck still held.

Darius waggled a hand back and forth. “A little of both, with some entertaining grappling on the side. Some buds of your nobility may be a bit bruised this morning. They had such a difficult time understanding that short does not always mean weak.”

Danaë lifted her head from her packing. “Oh, Darius. You didn’t,” she said in disapproval.

He held up his hands. “No permanent injuries apart from dented egos, sister dear, I assure you.” He looked at Matthias now, good humor dissipating. “I did hear an interesting bit of gossip about Prince Lukas, however. It seems that he was more dissatisfied with his position than he let on.”

Matthias leaned against one of the bookcases lining the room. “Oh? And where did this come from?”

“A hulking young brute named Lord Gaspar Pieters, the heir to one of your northern earldoms. Apparently he was one of the prince’s confidants.”

The king remembered the young nobleman, a tall and bulky individual with a tendency to bully the servants. He had been a common fixture in Lukas’s chambers, riding out with the prince on various hunting parties and other entertainments. “What did young lord Pieters have to say?”

“Nothing much, other than Lukas had a tendency when in his cups to talk about all the things he thought were wrong with the country and how he would fix them when he was king.” Darius lifted one elegant shoulder. “It could have been the wine talking, your majesty. But you may wish to have someone nose around the prince’s circle and see if there’s aught else to be found.”

Matthias nodded. “I’ll have someone do that. Thank you for your efforts.”

“I live to serve, O royal brother-in-law.”

Danaë rolled her eyes at her brother. “We’ll be ready to leave in the morning, Matthias,” she said, sealing the document case. “Flavia’s packing my trunks as we speak. Which reminds me, I have a request to make of you. I would like to bring Magistra Ife with us.”

His brows rose at that. “If you wish. But if I may ask, why? Between the cavalry escort and the guards coming with us I believe we can handle anything we encounter.”

“Not for that,” Danaë said, shaking her head. “It’s for me. I need to resume my training and the magistra has offered to be my mentor. She’s retired from active practice, so she has the time to work with me.”

It seemed strange that the little Ghobian mage would want to travel so far at her age. But Reniel had vouched for her. “How kind of her,” Matthias said, diplomatic. “Are you sure she’s up to the trip?”

“She assures me that she is. And she’s right—I’ve put off resuming my training for too long.” Danaë flexed her fingers, then turned her hands over and studied the palms. “I’m getting … itchy. I need to do something constructive with it.”

“I’ll inform the chamberlain to add her to the convoy rolls.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss over her lips. “I need to speak to Mohrs about my own packing. I’ll see you at dinner.”

A brilliant smile was his response. Satisfied, Matthias nodded to Darius and left the office.

He was halfway to the private wing when he heard, “Brother-in-law? May I speak with you?”

He paused and Margot stepped out of a shadowed doorway, her usually serene face concerned. “Of course, Margot. What can I do for you?”

Her hands twisted at her waist. “I understand you’re leaving tomorrow for Hellas.”

“Yes. In fact, I have to speak to my valet about my trunks, so—” 

“Be careful.”

That stopped him. “I beg your pardon?”

She bit her lip. “Sire—Matthias. I know about the mirror.”

“Ah.” He knew it was impossible to keep gossip from spreading around the palace. “If you’re worried about it, I can assure you that it’s been safely stored. There won’t be any more trouble from it.”

“That’s not what worries me,” Margot insisted. “I’m worried about the queen.” There was a brief hesitation as she said the title. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that you were attacked with a spell that was undetectable to anyone but a mage? There’s only one I can think of who’s been in the palace recently, and who had access to your rooms.”

Matthias had his mouth open to explain the mirror’s provenance and Lukas’s involvement, then hesitated. Margot had doted on her nephew, considering him the son she had never had. Telling her about his treasonous plot would cause her unnecessary pain. “Danaë wasn’t involved in this,” he said instead. “In fact, she saved my life, and I trust her with it.”

Margot looked shocked at his declaration. “You’ve been married to her for less than a fortnight. How can you be so sure about her?”

“I have my reasons. Please trust me, we have nothing to fear from her.” He reached out and touched Margot’s arm. It felt chilled under his touch. “I appreciate your concern, though. It’s good to know that I still have family in my corner.”

“Always, Matthias.” Her hand covered his, squeezing once. It felt as cold as her arm. “Safe travels. And please be careful.”

“I will.” Disturbed by the odd conversation from his sister-in-law, Matthias turned and continued on towards his chambers. 

5

A QUESTION OF HEIRS

The royal convoy left the city the next morning, passing through the main gates to cheers from the gathered residents. Matthias and Danaë rode together, with Darius, the rest of the Hellene contingent, and various courtiers behind them. Magistra Ife had been ensconced in a wagon due to her age, with a young servant girl assigned to look after her, and Danaë had promised to ride with her each day so that the magistra could continue her tutoring. Flavia and Mohrs rode with the other Ypresian and Hellene servants, and the whole of the convoy was surrounded by armed cavalry and royal guards led by Lieutenant Commander Lars Schrader, Bardahlson’s second in command.

By mid-afternoon the convoy was trundling across the golden grasslands, taking up the full width of the Kasterlee Road. At least the weather was perfect for traveling, Danaë thought, with a blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds and a pleasant breeze blowing in from the west.