The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (23 page)

My father simply nodded as he watched me attempt to digest the information.  “Salmaea, you will be leading your own squadron of two hundred wizards in this war.”

Those last words seemed to echo in my ears.  “
What
?”

“As a figurehead, essentially,” he amended.  “You will not be fighting.  You will be stationed with members of the Guard safely away from the battle.”  As he stood there, silently gauging my reaction, a rat crawled from a pocket in his robe and climbed to his shoulder.  The
gray rat was my father’s ready source of magic energy, one he rarely used.  The fact that it was still alive after several years was testament of that.  It made me think of Max.

When my mouth finally decided to work again, I asked, “Why me?”

His attention turned down to the rat on his shoulder.  His cold, gray eyes seemed filled with a modicum of regret.  “The Council convened once Boakler informed us of the barrier and the fact that you killed the dragon.”

“I didn’t kill Bhaliel,” I cut in.  “An eldrhim—”

My father cut me off with a glare and a raised hand.  “I will have none of your stories.  Besides, it matters not how the dragon was slain.  The issue of awarding you Rank for the discovery of the breach in the barrier and the dragon’s death was discussed.  However, the majority vote was that you were to be denied Rank.”

Anger bloomed in me once again.  “
What
?” I shrieked.  “You convened about awarding Rank to a wizard who wasn’t even present for the decision?  Not only that, but I was denied?  You have Ranked wizards for far less.” 

My father’s eyes snapped back to my own.  “You
will
lower your voice, Salmaea.  You were denied Rank because of your brash and reckless actions.  If you were given Rank after running off alone the way you did, it would set an awful precedent.  You will
not
argue the point further.”

I bit my lip to stifle a retort and turned my gaze from my father.  Sure it was childish, but I couldn’t bring myself to even look at the man. 

“Salmaea, I am sending you to Gualain so that once this king has been brought down and the war averted, you will be awarded Rank.  You will most likely be promoted to Fifth Rank.  I am doing what is best for you.  When I pass on, how do you think it would look if the next Grand Wizard’s wife was not even Ranked?  What if once Saiyre took my place, he succumbed to public pressure to take a new wife who
did
hold Rank?  Both the Fellway name
and
blood would be forever stripped from the title.  What then?”

“And that’s what matters, right?” I muttered, grudgingly bringing my eyes back to my father’s.  “Forget that your own daughter could die in the war.  All that matters is not being remembered as a Grand Wizard who failed to keep the title in his family’s name.  You disgust me.  You would’ve disgusted mother, too.”

The strike from the back of his hand sent me sprawling to the floor.  His rat was nearly flung from his shoulder.  My ears were left ringing from the blow.  My vision was blurry and the world careened around me.  I was completely stunned.  My father had never struck me with such force.  At that exact moment, I lost the little shred of love I’d always felt for him.  This was a man who cared more for his legacy than his own disappointment of a daughter.  What had my mother seen in him?  She’d been so full of love.  Love for life.  Love for me.

“Salmaea, I . . . I . . .
”  The bastard couldn’t finish his sentence.  I wouldn’t have listened to him even if he had. 

“Salmaea,” a kinder, gentler male voice called from the back of the room.  I heard echoing footsteps rush towards me across the marble floor.  Suddenly, a blurry shape was crouched before me, its hands gripping my shoulders.  “Are you okay?”

As the world slowly came back into focus, I saw the face of my betrothed, Saiyre Rian, staring back at me with genuine concern in his chartreuse eyes.  He looked as if he hadn’t rested well in a good while, dark circles prominent under his tired eyes, but that was nothing new.  His short-cropped blond hair, well-trimmed beard, and immaculate, silver-cuffed robe were the only things about him that looked cared for. 

Saiyre has always put aside his own health to concentrate on his future as the next Grand Wizard.  For now, he is technically the Master of Magic Diplomacy, keeping wizards in good faith with the different rulers of Amirand.  His ambition has always kept him from taking care of himself. 

My father had been drawn to that ambition—that and a magical aptitude that rivaled his own—and saw it as a way to keep the Grand Wizard title connected to the Fellway name through marriage. 

For Saiyre, the betrothal has been of no issue; he’s ambitious and truly loves me.  For me, however, the prospect is not so attractive.  Though Saiyre is handsome, kind, and fully smitten with me, he is also someone who would always put his career ahead of me.  Just like my father.  For me, that is not true love.

Although his career-oriented mind has always kept me from loving him, I felt comfortable and warm as he gazed concernedly into my eyes.  I felt safe in his presence. 

“I’m okay,” I mumbled, allowing Saiyre to help me to my feet.

“Grand Wizard, what happened?” he asked innocently, though I knew he was only allowing my father to save face—just another reason I will never love him.  Korin would’ve confronted my father, even if it destroyed his future.  Even if my father could’ve killed him in mere heartbeats, he would’ve defended me. 

“Apparently, Salmaea’s travels have been harder on her than she could handle,” my father answered vaguely.  “Would you mind escorting her to her rooms, Master Saiyre?”

“As you command, Grand Wizard,” Saiyre answered dutifully.  He wrapped an arm tightly around my waist to make sure I remained steady on my feet.

“Father,” I began as Saiyre started leading me towards the back of the room.  “Give the dragon child and the squirrel to me, and I’ll do as you say.  I’ll be this figurehead squad leader you wish me to be.  Just let them go.”

“I think not,” he replied sternly.  “You have no choice in this matter.  Saiyre, make sure her room is guarded through the night.  She will be leaving with the squads at first light.”

“As you command, Grand Wizard.”

“But—” I began in protest. 

“That is all,” my father said, cutting off my remonstration.  “You will be briefed fully on the situation and your role on the way to Gualain.  I will see you off in the morning.”  I would like to believe that his last thought was out of love, but I know he just wants to ensure that I comply with his command.

Instead of allowing my father any further satisfaction of pushing his authority on me, I stood tall, yanked from Saiyre’s grasp, and led myself out of the chamber without a word.  Saiyre quickened his step to catch up.  Before I was fully out of the doors, I heard the word “disappointment” escape my father’s lips in a series of muttered words.

“Salmaea, I am so glad you have come home safely,” Saiyre said once he reached my side, his voice oozing sincerity.  “I was worried sick when you had disappeared.  Your father and I have been hard at work tracking you down.”

His genuine concern made the fact that I’d never love him hurt even more.  I pushed away that pain and concentrated on the reason I could never love him as I strode down the arched corridor.  “Saiyre, aren’t you affected by how my father treats me?”

Saiyre kept silent for a moment, probably trying to devise a way to explain
himself without speaking against my father.  It wouldn’t do his ambition any favors if anyone heard him badmouth the
almighty
Grand Wizard. 

“Your father cares for you,” he eventually
answered, his voice certain.  I could sense his doubt, though.  “He just wants you in a better position to be accepted as the future Grand Wizard’s wife.  As
my
wife.  He wants you to be able to have a good life, accepted by the other wizards.”

I stopped mid-stride and turned to Saiyre angrily.  “Do you really think I care about all that?  I couldn’t care less about how I’m to be viewed once you have your
precious
title.  I don’t care how my failure to be Ranked makes you look.  You really agree with me being sent out to a kingdom on the brink of starting a war with the rest of Amirand for the sole purpose of appearance?”  Before he could answer, I started back down the corridor.  I rubbed at my cheek where my father had struck me.  It still stung.

Partway down the corridor, I recalled that I’d intended on sharing my newfound knowledge about Contracts, about how Korin had learned to get around the magical bond created between a Setter and Holder.  However, if I wasn’t going to be
Ranked for the information I’d already brought to him, I doubted it would be enough to change the Council’s mind.  Besides, weeks or months of testing to fully validate my word would be needed.  It wouldn’t keep me from being shipped off as a damned figurehead, assumed incapable of being more. 

Saiyre jogged up beside me and then slowed to my pace.  “I would never want you to be in danger.  You know that.  But this may be the only way for you to . . . you would get your Rank more quickly.  Everything will be easier.”

“Easier for you, maybe,” I muttered as I took a turn down another long corridor.  This one was lined with paintings of all the Grand Wizards, each in a gold frame.  “This is not about being in danger.  It’s about being used to make my father look better.  You’ll get your title either way.”

We continued on in silence as we followed the twists and turns of the complex, labyrinthine halls of the Academy.  We reached a spiraling marble staircase, but before I could start up the stairs, Saiyre began talking again.  “What else is going on with you, Salmaea?  I can tell there is something else bothering you.”

I stopped with one foot on the bottom step and turned to Saiyre with a sigh.  He was right.  There were dozens of other things bothering me.  My primary concern was Korin, both his safety and my feelings for him.  I couldn’t bring myself to tell Saiyre about that, so I chose another to appease him.  “My father’s nothing but an Averinax-blooded idiot.  There’s more to this war than he knows, but he’s too arrogant to listen.”

“Like . . .” Saiyre
prompted, his face a mask of patience.

“Like a wizard capable of summoning eldrhims, for one,” I said.

Saiyre didn’t laugh as my father had, but I could read the skepticism in his eyes.  “Salmaea, eldrhims are straight out of myth.  They do not truly exist.”

“I didn’t expect you to believe me,” I replied sullenly.  “I just hoped you would.”  I started up the stairs with Saiyre following close behind in silence.  We passed a good dozen wizards who were coming down the stairs, and I could’ve sworn that each gave me a similar look of disdain.  I realized just how tired I was of the Academy and how much I missed Korin,
Til’, and Max.

After a few more familiar hallways, I finally made it to my rooms.  Opening the door, it felt as if I’d never left.  Of course, the contents of my sitting room table were straightened, my bed was made, the furniture had been polished, and the entire room had been dusted. 
Just another perk of being the Grand Wizard’s daughter.  I say perk, but in reality, it makes me sick to be constantly coddled so. 

I went through the open doorway to the right of my sitting room and threw myself face down on the bed, just wanting to be left alone.  Propriety would state that Saiyre shouldn’t enter my rooms—and the gods know that Saiyre is nothing if not
proper—but a few moments after I heard the door to my rooms latch shut, I felt his weight settle on the bed beside me. 

“Salmaea,” he started with a deep breath, “I do not mean to be insensitive.  It’s just that . . . what you are saying is a bit much to take in when there has never been any indication that eldrhims exist.”

“I said I didn’t expect you to believe me, so just drop it.”  I’m sure my words were near-unintelligible with my face buried in the bedcovers.  I didn’t care, though. 

Maybe I was being childish, but can I be blamed for such behavior?  I mean, I
am
treated like a child.  I have my rooms cleaned for me, my clothing laid out every morning, and my meals prepared for me.  Whenever I try to do anything on my own, my father usually ends up yelling at me.  I’m told what to do and who to love.  Nothing about my life inside the Academy speaks “adult” to me.

“Salmaea, you know I love you.”  As always, Saiyre paused, waiting for me to return the sentiment.  As always, I remained silent.  With a sigh, he nudged my shoulder.  “Please sit up, Salmaea.”  Grudgingly, I rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed beside him.  He put his arm around me and pulled me close, planting a kiss on my forehead.  “I am truly sorry that I am having trouble believing your words, but try to understand them from my perspective.”

I nodded, not meeting his eyes.  He was right, of course.  Why should he or my father have believed me?  I’d killed an eldrhim myself and still didn’t believe Korin when he’d told me what it was.  “I understand,” I said.

Saiyre hugged me against him again.  “Tell me all that happened when you left,” he requested, using his other hand to tilt my chin up to look into his eyes.  “Help me understand
your
perspective.”