To Kill a Wizard: Rose's Story (The Protectors of Tarak Book 1) (2 page)

“I understand. You want to find some miraculous way to save your father again. But I think it’s high time he lie in the bed he’s made.” She turned, daring me to argue with her. “Tonight all you should be focusing on is the ceremony. Let your father find his way out of this.”

I leaned against the wall. “He wouldn’t survive the prisons. I’d be condemning my own father to death.”

Sirena laughed. “He isn’t some old man. He’s tall and strong. Women watch him when he walks past. If anyone could survive the prisons, it’s him. And some time to sober up might not be the worst thing.” Her tone gentled as she studied me. “But he’s also a smart man. I doubt it’d come to that.”

My father
was
strong. I imagined he was quite a different man before my mother left us. But I had no memory of her. She’d abandoned us when I was just three years old.

“You might be right, but…” I hesitated. “Do you think I could pay off his debt if I became a Protector?”

She grabbed my shoulders, grinning. “Of course you could. You’d be rich and powerful! Even more powerful than the Queen’s Men. ” Her grin turned wicked. “Maybe they’d teach you how to turn Hefter’s dad into a frog with just a wink of your eye, or make all his hair fall out with a flick of your wrist.”

I returned her smile. “Can you even imagine?”

She let go of my shoulders and leaned on the wall beside me. “Tonight’s the night, Rose. The night that could change the rest of our lives.”

“But you know our chances are…” I stopped. There was no reason to finish. We both knew how rare it was to be selected.

“Our chances are just as good as anyone else.”

I nibbled my bottom lip. No, my chances were just as good as most of the girls, because I didn’t know anything about my mother’s side of the family. Sirena, on the hand, had a much better prospect.

“At least your great-grandmother was a Protector,” I said, trying to hide the envy in my voice.

She gave me a sympathetic look. “You don’t know, maybe there was a Protector in your family line.”

If not, I had no hope of being picked. Protectors didn’t just need to have a Protector in their family line. They needed hidden magic.
Strong
hidden magic. A girl could easily develop magic later on in life, but she’d be nothing more than a witch, making simple potions to annoying aliments. An unpleasant future compared to that of the exciting lives of the women who kept our kingdom safe.

I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe.”

She gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Don’t look at me like that! There might not be another Protector in my family for the next ten generations. So the way I see it, we both have just as good a shot at getting picked.”

That was something. I guess.

“Do you think it’s a good or bad sign The Protectors waited fifteen years to come back to our town?”

Sirena grinned. “Now that’s the topic on everyone’s minds.” She paced about, eyes flashing with excitement. “What kept them away for so long? And will there be less girls Chosen, or more?”

I laughed nervously. “It’s quite the mystery.”

She whirled around dramatically. “One we’ll find the answer to tonight.” Glancing up, she squinted at the orange sun blazing its way towards the horizon. “We should go home and get ready.”

We set off down the road. People waved at Sirena, wishing her good luck, but avoided my gaze. It didn’t bother me. I’d long ago gotten used to the prejudice my looks had brought me. No one liked to see a daily reminder of their dangerous enemies.

“My mother had a special dress ordered. It’s bright yellow and trimmed with lace.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“And did you see my hair clip?” She reached up and touched where it lay nestled in the back of her golden hair.

The face of the Goddess of the Harvest, Demeia, stared back. Unlike her statues, the tiny barrette’s beautiful face bore an unexpected smile. The carving had been crafted exquisitely, for even though the combination of dark brows and sharp cheekbones could’ve been stunning beyond words, just the sight of her face sent a familiar nervousness crawling along my skin. It was as if each item, designed in her likeness, allowed her to stare out at us.

“It’s… lovely.”

Sirena dropped her hand. “I thought it might bring me a little good luck.”

I wasn’t as superstitious as most of the villagers. They seemed to think the goddesses took an active interest in all of us. I was pretty sure they cared as much about us as we did ants. But in this case, Sirena might be right. The Goddess of the Harvest had been kind to us the past few years. Had our crops not grown so well, our whole tiny farming-town would’ve long ago stopped being able to pay the queen’s taxes. What would Queen Gaudias have done then? Hang us all?

Probably. The heartless creature.

Unexpectedly, Sirena’s hand shot out and stopped me in my tracks. “Rose, what are you planning on wearing tonight?”

My heart raced as I glanced down at my dress. It was the better of the two I owned, but still, it was made of a scratchy, cheap wool. Time had faded the brown to an even duller shade, and numerous patches gave it the sad look of an old man who’d seen better days.

“You can’t wear that.” Sirena’s tone left no room for argument. “Come to my house. Wear one of my dresses.”

I stiffened. “Your dresses would be unseemly short on me. That’d be much worse than this old dress.”

Sirena frowned. “Still…”

“I’ll figure something out,” I promised.

She nodded, looking unconvinced.

We stopped in front of her parent’s bakery. The large doors were spread wide, releasing the scent of baking breads and pastries, no doubt in preparation for the celebration.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Sirena asked, already taking a step towards the bakery.

I smiled. “No, I can make the trek alone.”

She surprised me by flinging herself into my arms. “Just think, this time tomorrow we could be far from this town. Exploring new places and living like royalty.”

I hugged her back. “I hope so.”

Releasing me, she grinned, then raced towards her house.

Watching her go, dread settled in my stomach. If The Protectors didn’t choose me tonight, what would I do?

I walked without knowing where I was going. But somehow, my feet took me to the village shrine. The Goddess of the Harvest’s shrine was by no means large or extravagant, not like in the big cities, but we were proud of it.

Climbing the three steps, I entered between the two pillars, and walked across the gray marble, towards Demia’s statue. A dozen villagers could’ve prayed in this space with ease, but today it was thankfully empty.

Falling to my knees, I stared at the statue. Demeia was an older goddess than most, although still looked to be in the prime of her life. With long, full hair cascading down her body, scrutinizing eyes, and the grim face of someone passing judgment, she was both lovely and terrifying.

Chests of offerings lined the walls behind her, no doubt filled with wealth enough to make all my problems vanish. And bring the wrath of the goddesses on me if I took a single item.

“Goddess…” I started, awkwardly. “Demeia.” I paused again, not quite sure what to say. “It’s Rose.” Taking a deep breath, I just let the words fall out. “If I could be Chosen… well, I think I could make you proud.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Where had that come from? I doubted anyone had been proud of me in my life, so why should it matter now?

And yet, if I became a Protector, I’d be doing something amazing. My job would be to keep everyone in the kingdom of Tarak safe using magic. Who couldn’t be proud of me then?

Immediately, I realized what a fool I’d been. I should’ve asked for help. For money. For a way out of my looming marriage.

I opened my mouth, but only
thank you
tumbled out.

Feeling foolish beyond words, I rose and turned to leave.

A loud crash came from behind me.

I spun and stared, my heart pounding. Disappointment grew. I’d half expected to see the goddess herself standing behind me. Instead, a lid on one of the chests had come open.

Frowning, I climbed the steps, even knowing that only our town priest should touch the chests. But when I came close to it, I saw that it was empty. Closing it anyway, I hesitated, my hand on the lid. My father had chests similar to these, old and well-made. They were stacked in the loft, creating a hiding spot for my father’s old sword.

Maybe I should search the chests back home? I knew they held my mother’s things… items I’d searched without finding anything of interest. But now I was in need of a dress, and I knew she’d left at least that behind.

“Did you find what you came for?”

I spun.

Our town priest Ranter stood between the two pillars, with his typical serene expression. He was an old man, with spots like ink stains on his balding head.

I locked gazes with him, hoping he didn’t think I was trying to steal. “Today seemed a good day to pray.”

He smiled. “Every day is a good day to pray.”

“But today especially,” I blurted out.

His smile widened. “If you’d come earlier, you would have found many girls praying to be Chosen.”

I laughed humorlessly. “I guess I’m not the only desperate one then.”

Looking at the statue of the goddess, he spoke, as if to her. “When I was a young boy I thought that becoming an Oracle was the only way I could ever be happy. But when I realized the goddesses heard me no better than the average man, and that they refused to speak directly to me, I had to accept that I was meant for something else.”

His words hit me like stones. “So whatever fate they’ve set out for us, we can’t escape.”

“I didn’t say that.” He softened his tone. “I just meant that it doesn’t matter whether or not you’re Chosen, you can still accomplish great things. Your life path may simply lead you elsewhere.”

His words were exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

Shifting, I looked down at my feet. “I should go get ready for the ceremony.”

“Of course,” he said, smoothing the fabric of his gray robes. “But remember, the goddesses can only answer you if you pray to them.”

I nodded, even though I knew better than to believe such foolishness.

Climbing back down the stairs, I passed Demeia’s smiling statue and Ranter, who watched me closely.

Then, I paused, realizing that if everything went right, this might be my last chance to speak to the kindly priest. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head, his brows drawing together. “For what?”

I nibbled at my bottom lip, forming the words in my mind. “For teaching me to read and write. For not caring that I look like our enemies.”

A smile touched his lips and brought a sparkle to his eyes. “No need to thank me. You were a wonderful and deserving student.”

I doubted that, but I held my uncertainties inside. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to be an Oracle, but you’re a great priest.”

He patted my shoulder. “Take comfort. The goddesses always have a plan.”

My hope dwindled further. Did he know something I didn’t?

We said our goodbyes, before I headed outside. A slight gloom hung over me, but even still, I rushed along the road. If I took much longer I’d be late for the ceremony, and this was one thing I couldn’t be late for, even without the goddess’s blessing.

My father had been silent all day, but not his usual silence. Instead, it was the intense feeling of words left unsaid clouding the air.

Stepping down our old wooden stairs and into our small kitchen, I found my father’s head bowed over the table. In his hands, some new creation was being whittled with care. And resting on the table in front of him, as always, his thick mug of ale sat in its usual place of honor.

I smiled in spite of my nervousness.

“Oh, Rose. You look beautiful!” Sirena stood by the fire, her delicate hands clutching our rocking chair as she gazed at me. She wore a dress of a vibrant yellow, and her golden hair was braided intricately, encircling her head like a crown.

“So do you,” I said, meaning it.

Her smiled widened, but her question struck me like a blow to the chest, “Is that a new dress?”

My heart pounded as my father glanced up.

His eyes widened, and in a flash, he was standing. Behind him, the chair struck the dirt floor.

I’d expected him to be angry with me for going through my mother’s things, even though they’d been nothing more than trinkets and clothes locked away in dust-covered chests. But what I hadn’t expected was his fear. How could wearing her dress frighten him so?

My heart pounded in my chest. Was I like a ghost to him? An image of the woman he loved who abandoned him.

Not knowing what else to do, I stepped further into the room and into the light cast from the crackling fire in the hearth.

Sirena’s gaze darted from me to him, and still no one spoke. Tension sung through the room like unseen lightning.

At last, my father averted his gaze, picked up his chair, and sat down. His whittling lay forgotten upon the table.

Disappointment left a hollow ache in my chest. He was my father. Shouldn’t
he
at least care that this might be our last evening together?

Of course not!

Anger flared inside of me. This was the same man who’d been too swallowed by his own emotions all these years to remember that even though he’d lost his wife, I’d lost my mother. To him, I was nothing more than a burden. Nothing more than a reminder of the woman who’d left him. I’d been naïve to think there was some small part of him that actually cared for me.

Feeling brave, I chose my words with care. “It would’ve been disrespectful to attend The Choosing in my tattered, stained gowns, so I found one of mother’s dresses in an old chest.”

Sirena gasped and stuttered. “O-Oh.”

When my father remained silent, I ground my teeth, determined to make him talk. “I thought I might as well wear it, since this might be my last day in the village.”

The muscles in my father’s strong chin clenched, and a familiar nervous anticipation rose as the firelight danced across the intricate pale scars covering his face and neck. Still, he said nothing.

Bitter disappointment bloomed, and I grabbed my dark green cloak from near the door and put it on. “We best hurry, or we’ll be late.”

“A word first.”

We jumped at the rough sound of his whispered words.

Sirena’s eyes widened. She’d only heard my father speak a handful of times.

But she quickly recovered from her shock. “Of course.”

In an instant, she was out the door and hurrying away, in an attempt at giving us privacy. My nerves had me watching her descend the small hill, envying her unrestrained excitement as she leapt on the dirt road with the abandon of a small child. The deep orange and reds of the painted evening sky bathed her silhouette in its soft, almost mystical glow.

When her movement ceased, my breath caught in my chest as I willed myself to turn to face my father. We’d known about the Choosing for nearly a week, but during that time he’d said nothing to me. Not wishing me good luck, nor making a special effort to spend time with me. What words of wisdom or love did he suddenly feel the need to share?

A puff of warm breath, reeking of ale struck me just before he spoke. “Don’t go.”

His rough plea surprised me to my core. He wanted me to stay?

Tears rose against my will, so I closed my eyes, forcing them to remain inside. And at the same time, allowing me a moment to savor the unique sound of the two words that meant he actually cared. They were deep, but broken, like any time he spoke. I was never sure if it was the result of his injury, or simply because he rarely used it, but I loved the sound all the same.

“Why shouldn’t I go?” I pushed the words past the lump in my throat and opened my eyes to look at him.
Really
looked at him. His eyes were the same pale green as mine, his hair the same light brown, and yet, he’d treated me like nothing more than a stranger most of my life. “Is there any reason for me to stay?”

His face twisted as if I’d struck him, but his penetrating gaze was fixed on me. “I beg you not to go,” he whispered, and his hand tightened on my arm. “I
beg
you.”

In spite of the years I’d spent dreaming of this day, in spite of the many prayers I’d made to be Chosen, I hesitated. Because, in truth, I’d give it all up if I thought he truly loved me, truly wanted me around.

Gripping the leather thong of my necklace, I chose my words carefully, “If you just told me why—“

My father released me, shoving me away from him and out the door. “I can’t,” he snarled, smashing his fist into the table. “I
can’t
.”

“Of course you
can’t
!” I shouted back at him. “Not even today, when you might never see me again. You can’t say you love me. You can’t say you’ll miss me.”

“That’s not important—” he rasped, clenching his fist and shaking it.

“No, nothing is. Nothing but your ale.” I turned away. Hot tears gathered in my eyes. “And don’t think, no matter what happens tonight, that I’ll be able to square away your debt with the Queen’s Men. It’s your responsibility now.”

He called after me, but I slammed the door on my name.

Tearing through the chilly evening air, I passed Sirena, who was waiting patiently. But I couldn’t stop yet, not until I could conceal the grief threatening to overwhelm me. I ran towards the town, letting the cold rip at my exposed skin beneath my cloak until my lungs began to ache.

Pausing at the side of the road, I wrapped my arms around my stomach until the painful feeling inside of me eased. It didn’t matter what my father had, or hadn’t, said. Tonight might present my opportunity to leave him and this village behind. I wouldn’t let anyone take that chance away from me.

“Rose!” Sirena called, running along the road behind me.

Releasing my stomach, I took a deep breath, easing the tightness in my chest. I might not have a father who loved me, but I had the greatest friend a girl could ask for.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as she stopped beside me.

“It’s— okay.” She gasped for breath.

“He asked me not to come tonight,” I blurted.

Her large eyes widened. “
Not to come
? But, it’s the law.” I tried to interrupt, but she continued in disbelief. “And besides, who wouldn’t want this chance for a better life?”

I shook my head. “He probably just wanted to hurt me. To ruin this day.”

My necklace warmed at my throat, and I clutched the leather thong. Usually it warmed when danger was near, but perhaps this time, it was to reassure me. Because even though it was the only gift my father had ever given me, I suspected it’d been my mother’s. And maybe, just maybe, she felt similar fears when she ran away… leaving him. And me.

Sirena’s eyes filled with pity. “Don’t let him spoil this. I mean it. No girl should have this day ruined.” She hesitated, her mouth lifting in an attempt at a smile. “Today you might be a farmer’s daughter, but tomorrow you could be a Protector. Rich, powerful, responsible for keeping the kingdom safe. Just focus on that.”

I went to answer, to tell her about the look on my father’s face. To explain the uncertainly he’d planted in my mind, but the sound of drums beating interrupted the normal sounds of the night. The ceremony would begin soon.

We both exchanged a look of pure excitement, my doubts rushing away as hope blossomed again.

She reached out, and I gave her my hand, just like we’d done as small girls. It was a way we reassured each other in the hardest of times, how we silently gave each other strength. For some reason, such a simple thing always made me feel less alone.

Sirena tugged on my hand, shaking me from my thoughts. I smiled knowing we could face anything together, and we ran. She as fast as her shorter legs could carry her, and me, fast enough to leave me winded.

A few minutes later we reached the edge of the town, just as the last streaks of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. There, we paused to catch our breath.

“Are you ready for this?” Sirena nearly bounced with anticipation.

I didn’t answer right away. If it was up to me, I would’ve held the ceremony in private, away from the prying eyes of the villagers. In front of them all, it’d be hard not to imagine what they were thinking. Would they hope I’d be Chosen to finally be rid of me? Or would it anger them that someone they despised so could be selected over their daughters?

As much as I loved Sirena, she couldn’t possibly understand my hesitation. She was beloved by the villagers. And what was more, she loved to be the center of attention.

“Ready to be assaulted by everyone in the village?” I said, trying my best to give my words a jesting air. “No, I guess for some crazy reason I’m not.”

Her mouth twisted into a false pout. “Out of all the nights, shouldn’t we enjoy this one the most?” She hesitated, her pout disappearing, and her gaze lowering to the ground in an unexpected expression of worry. “After all, tonight might be our last night in the village.”

I reached out, brushing a strand of her perfect blonde hair back from her freckled face. “You’ll be Chosen, don’t worry.”

She looked up at me, her blue eyes round. “And what if I’m not?”

I’d asked myself the same question many times, but no answer ever came that could erase the doubt building inside of me.

“If it’s based on beauty, you have nothing to worry about.”

Her worried expression faded, replaced by her usual cocky grin. “Most Protectors
are
beauitiful.” Then, she added quickly. “But you’re beautiful too.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say—”

“No,” she forced a smile. “You are. You just look like…” She clamped her mouth shut, but she didn’t have to finish her thought.

I looked like a Northern. The people who Tarak had once enslaved. The people who, now free, spent their time causing unrest in the northern part of the kingdom. Our dangerous enemies, who were technically our own people. Until, of course, they declared their independence and an all out war broke out once more.

“Well,” Sirena said, breaking through my thoughts. “I don’t care what the others think. You might look different from the rest of us, but you’re beautiful to me.”

I always felt bad for her when she tried to make such ridiculous statements, because only a true friend could believe something so obviously wrong.

Forcing a smile, I tried to hide my dark thoughts behind a teasing tone. “But you have the most offers of marriage.”

She laughed, pushing me gently. “I might have the most offers, but you’re practically married already.”

My smile vanished. “We should hurry.”

Silence stretched between us.

“I’m sorry, Rose. That was stupid of me to say. I just…”

I shrugged, and we continued walking into the village, past the quiet houses, to where shops lined the way to the bustling town square. Even the attention we’d receive in the village was better than discussing Hefter.

“Rose!”

Turning, I spotted Gager the Blacksmith standing outside his shop. He was covered in his normal layer of sweat and filth, but there was something in his expression that made me feel uneasy.

My necklace warmed again, and I looked down at where it was concealed in the front of my dress. What was going on with it? Was it trying to put a damper on my spirits too?

“Good luck tonight.”

I jumped a little. Gager had soundlessly come to stand in front of me.

Very slowly, I looked up to meet his gaze as I let his words settle in.
Good luck
had been said to the young girls of the village more times than I could count over the past week, but never in the way Gager said it. There was nothing celebratory or excited about his tone; instead, it was like a warning.

“Thank you.”

Sirena slid closer, almost between us. “I’ll be in The Choosing too.”

Most people smiled when Sirena spoke. They didn’t just tolerate her arrogance; they seemed not to notice it, as if her angelic looks blinded them to her words. But today Gager didn’t smile the way most people did, or speak words of encouragement. Instead, he crossed his muscular arms against his chest.

“Of course you’ll be. You’re required by law.” His gaze flicked between the two of us. “Your sixteen right? And Rose is eighteen?”