Breaking Stars (Book 2) (8 page)

“I will want a thorough tale explaining this,” Casimir said and clasped her hand with both of his in greeting, “but for now show me the girl.”

Aisling motioned to a tent set back in a grove. “She has been unconscious since the strike, and that was nearly two days ago. She takes a little water but no food, and I cannot tell if the strike went through her brain or if something else keeps her from rising.”

A man Casimir recognized as General Calsifer sat outside the tent whittling a stick into an unrecognizable shape. He stood and bowed to the Head Mage, stepping aside and pulling the tent flap to admit him. The General’s face was drawn and gray, and his cheeks were unshaven.

Inside the tent was warm and clean, and a pretty blonde woman lay bundled atop a layer of mats. Casimir had seen Princess Robyn when she was eight, a child with eyes of a woman and the tongue of an educated lady. She was marked for greatness from an early age.

“I have healed all her wounds, but the hand remains lost. I may have been able to reattach it, but it was left behind in the scrabble,” Aisling described as she knelt beside Robyn.

Casimir brushed back the blankets and lifted the mauled limb. Aisling had done a fine job sealing the wound, and he could not have done a neater one. He probed along the wound and felt the strangely beautiful scar it left down her body. It blistered in spots as the body managed the damage, and he would sooner let the body heal naturally.

“You have done all I could,” he said, and she let out her held breath. “Did you hope I would undo the damage?”

“I knew it was not possible.”

He clenched his teeth. It was possible for two people. Arch Mage Ryker would sooner let her die than help, and Mage Gabriel would die to help. He would like to see Gabriel reform such damage once he was freed, though Casimir may not live to see it. “Once Gabriel is freed, I will ask him to fix this.”

Aisling raised a brow. “It will be the first thing he does, regardless.”

“Ah, did he come to love her after all?”

“How did you come privy to such information?” Aisling asked, alarmed. “I thought—”

“I know a great many things kept secret, Aisling,” he answered and smirked. “When Gabriel refused to stay in Jaden after his Classing, he claimed he was protecting someone. It was only a matter of deduction to figure out whom it was. Come now, his father loves the Advisor who handled Queen Rincarel’s affairs as she fell ill. Who
else
would he be protecting?”

Aisling frowned and looked back down at the pretty girl. “I do not know why she will not wake.”

He shook his head. “It is not her brain that was wounded. Her body is recovering.” He straightened, stooping over in the tent. “I usually see a lightning strike kill a body. Why not this time?”

“General Calsifer tells me Robyn grabbed Gabriel’s neckpiece, and there was a sudden transfer of power. I think whatever transferred into her protected her for a time. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Casimir had. “It is the neckpiece that is the strongest of the three and bears the most of the Elements. I have read stories of people touching the underside of the neckpiece and attaining a new Element for a few minutes. Some apparently could read the thoughts of the bound Mage, though I had never heard of a non-Mage touching them. It is quite possible she absorbed some of his power, or perhaps felt his Elements. Stars know if
that
is what keeps her asleep.”

“A defense,” Aisling nodded and stood. “There is someone you should see outside.”

She pushed the tent flap back and stepped out. A handsome, tall man with salted hair turned from the fire meeting Casimir’s eyes.

“Mage Cordis!” Casimir smiled, striding up to clasp the man’s forearms. “Everyone said you were dead, but I reminded them you were
missing
.”

“Well done, Head Mage,” Cordis grinned. “How fairs my Princess?”

“She still sleeps, and there is nothing more I can do for her.”

“What brings you here? Aisling has been most secretive.”

“As befits her station,” Casimir smiled. “I, my Council, and two hundred Jaden Mages are traveling to the City to free your boy.”

“We best hurry then, there’s not much left of him. Nolen’s done a bloody good job trying to break him, and if he finds out Robyn’s been injured, it might just push him over his threshold.”

“So the Prince did not succeed in breaking him in the dungeons? I have always heard of the will of Class Tens but thought it a myth. I hope we can reach the palace by this evening. I am sorry, Cordis. I sent more than one missive to Nolen demanding he relinquish Gabriel while I lagged in Jaden. We should have been there long ago.”

“I thank you for trying, Head Mage. Pack up!” Cordis shouted to the ragtag men.

“Is it wise to move Robyn?” Aisling cautioned.

“She can ride in a carriage,” Casimir offered.

Cordis perked up. “No.
Someone bring me my horse!
She will ride with me. I don’t want her waking in a foreign place without Gabriel.”

Casimir lifted his eyes in question.

“She mounted a rescue,” Aisling explained. “She loves the boy so.”

A slender girl brought Cordis his steed, and he mounted up extending a hand and pointing to the tent. The look on Cordis’s face was very paternal as Calsifer carried Robyn out. The Head Mage smiled inwardly. There were still good people in the world.

The camp came down quickly, and the band mounted up as Casimir regrouped with his caravan. Lael was back on Zaffre, trotting up and down the column to answer queries and allay fears.

“We’re going to have to make better time if we want to arrive by evening,” Lael said quietly as Casimir mounted Nyanza.

“Correct,” Casimir said and looked up at the sun almost at its zenith. “Get us into a canter.”

Lael grinned and spun Zaffre on his hind legs in a half-rear. “That I can do!”

Chapter 7

Mikelle had to do several horrible things to attain a position in Prince Nolen’s traveling party. First, and by far the most ghastly, concerned Nolen and a flagon of wine which was so unspeakable she tried to blot it from her memory. Second, she had to find the other women who contended for a spot with the Class Ten on the journey. She snuck them into dark halls and unused rooms and bashed their heads before tying them up. With luck, none would free themselves until she was well out of their range.

Whisperings of the Prince’s journey had the Arconian hall aflutter for days now since the women knew he would take the Class Ten with him. Her companion Lace was already part of the travelers, a position she was most distressed about. She had returned to the room late the night before with red eyes and would speak to no one, but Bianji said she had been with Prince Nolen and Gabriel. “Last time they were together, they destroyed a palace. Stars know where they went this time.”

Thankfully, Mikelle had a stronger stomach and had done many wrong and terrible things in the name of justice. With her as his confidant, Gabriel would have a fighting chance to take back all stolen from him.

She dressed in a soft wool dress dyed dark purple, a long lambskin coat, and tall boots tucked under her skirts. Shayleen had kindly done her hair up in two braids that wrapped around the back of her head pinned with ivory from Shalaban. A bag of clothes and supplies slung over her shoulder which felt far too heavy. Her weakness had kept her back the evening before, but she knew she could not appear weak now, and so continued through the palace to the Queen’s apartments.

Gabriel’s breaking had taken everyone by surprise, but not Mikelle. She had seen it in his eyes. He was well over the cusp of saving, and she knew it would happen soon, but she had hoped he would last a bit longer. She had not seen him since the evening when the whole palace woke to thunder and bells ringing.

“Do something!
Do
something!” Shayleen had been yelling at Bianji as all three watched a man far down in the courtyard tied to the whipping post. She willed herself to believe it was not Gabriel, but even from her distance, she knew his stance and form. That was the night he broke, but there was more to it she did not yet know.

The guards outside the Queen’s apartments searched her bag for weapons before letting her inside. They dare not touch a lady, so she was sure to keep all her weapons on her person, tucked into her boots and tied to a thigh. Anatolian men were so predictable.

The anteroom was quiet. Lady Aisling had vanished the night of Gabriel’s breaking, and the Queen was reportedly shut in her rooms. That left Gabriel’s allies thin. Unfortunately for him, he was not alone. Nolen’s tenor voice emanated through the crack in the door, and she held her breath as she crept up to it.

“...many times?” Nolen asked.

“Twice,” came the reply, further away and muffled as fabric whispered over something.

Nolen chuckled. “Very good. Finish dressing, we….” He stopped, and Mikelle suspected she had been heard, so she pushed the door open.

“Is he naked? That would please me,” she smiled and stepped in.

“Would you like him to be?” Nolen smirked. He stood in the middle of the window, looking out over the view with his arms folded. He dressed in a short rust-colored coat fitted with little diamonds of silver punched down the sleeve seams and over the breast. The rest of him was garbed in warm-looking clothing, fine wool trousers, tall boots, a high-necked jerkin, scarf, and his Mage cloak. She glanced towards the washroom to Gabriel tucking a green shirt into black trousers.

She smirked. “Maybe just a little naked.”

“You heard the lady,” Nolen snapped. Gabriel did not bother looking up to see who it was, and reached his hands over his head to pull the shirt off. The willing action performed so quickly and without protest horrified Mikelle. She ate up the distance between them, giving Nolen a pleased grin as he watched her go. Gabriel looked up a moment before she put a hand on his side and pushed him back into the washroom.

“What are you doing? Put that back on,” she whispered as she closed the door.

“But, Prince Nolen—”

“Leave it off, then. I’ll not be complaining.” She surveyed him and waited patiently for him to meet her eyes, but he kept them on the floor. He looked drawn, paler in the face, and he stood with a slump to his shoulders, holding his shirt in both hands in a most unconfident way. She put a hand on his chin, and he visibly flinched, blinking and resisting the urge to pull back. “Gabriel,” she whispered, astonished by his nature. “It’s
me
.”

She lifted his chin so he would raise his eyes. They flitted to the background, searching for something to focus on, but he resigned and met her eyes.

“What did he
do
to you?” she breathed. He looked terrified and tired. “You—you
are
jesting, yes?”

He blinked once, twice, and she realized his eyes had gone glossy. She removed her hand from his face, and he dropped it, blinking rapidly and taking a deep breath.
‘He did break. I had hoped….’
“I’m here to help you.”

“There is
nothing
left to help, Mikelle,” he replied and pulled his shirt back on.

“I can help,” she retorted. “I’m very good at getting what I want.”

He shoved his shirt back into his trousers and laced the front of them. “Don’t…don’t get too attached to me.” He shrugged on a long brown coat, and he hesitantly met her eyes, averting them for a second as if he expected backlash. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back from this,” he whispered.

“Are you two almost done?” Nolen yelled from the other room, and Gabriel flinched again.

Mikelle stepped up and buttoned his coat as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll make sure you do,” she said quietly. “I have need of you.”

She pulled the door open and felt the weakness take her breath away. Gabriel stepped past and hid her face from Nolen. She quickly took his arm to keep from losing her feet. He stopped and bent his elbow, staring ahead at the floor as if the motion was so normal he was unbothered. If he felt her weakness through their touch, he said nothing. Instead, he reached over and took her bag from her shoulder putting it over his.

“The blonde girl is late,” Nolen muttered, standing at the window, watching them. “She looks an awful lot like Princess Robyn did, I think, what with her hair. It would be a shame if I had to harm that pretty face for her insolence. Tell me, how was she last night?”

Mikelle proceeded cautiously. “Fine.”

Nolen smirked but made no reply as he pointed to a black satchel. “Carry that,” he said to Gabriel and strode out of the room. Gabriel obeyed, and Mikelle grabbed his handsomely embroidered Mage cloak. He kept his eyes downcast and extended a hand to her, pointing at the cloak and opening his palm, but she slipped her fingers around his and kept his cloak on her arm.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he whispered and led her to the door and into the anteroom. “You shouldn’t be coming.”

They waited another several minutes before Lace entered, bundled in her warmest wolf skin coat with a pinched look on her face. Bianji stepped through the door behind her with a stern expression. Neither carried more than a small bag.

Lace and Gabriel locked eyes for a silent moment before he looked away.
‘What happened last night?’
Mikelle wondered.

“I will take you where you want, but I will not be staying,” Lace stated, folding her arms. “Bianji and I will return together.”

“Ha!” Nolen scoffed. “I am the one who gives orders. You will be accompanying us, and your friend can come too. I am sure the Mage could use another companion to warm his sheets.”

“I will not be going,” Lace insisted. “I will take you there and ride back.”

“You will stay.” Nolen snapped. “I need a Class Six Air Mage to sidestep.”

“Then you will not need her,” a small voice said behind them. Mikelle looked up to Queen Miranda. Her hair was undone and fell around her shoulders. Her dress was simple blue cotton with no gilt, belted with a satin sash. Nolen looked ready to bark at her when she stated, “You will find a Class Six Air Mage there.”

“Kindle is a Class Two.” Nolen frowned.

“Your father is not.” She held his gaze, and Mikelle saw a tinge of concern pass over the woman’s face. She was not pretty but could have been far lovelier had she straightened her shoulders and carried her head with honor. As quietly as she had come, she slipped back into her hall.

Nolen’s face pinched as he contemplated the Queen’s words. Now,
he
was a handsome man with his shapely nose, square jaw, and flashy green eyes with eyelashes as long as any woman’s. His stature was far more dominating and commanding than his mother’s. It was a shame his nature was so unsatisfying. That, and he kissed like a wolf.

“Take the bags to the livery and have them saddle horses,” Nolen said to Gabriel, and Mikelle realized she was going to lose her stronghold. She put a hand on the nearest chair as he slipped away. She watched him go, his head hung lowly as he moved as quickly and quietly past Nolen who flexed his lips as if to snap at him but remained silent. He paused long enough to snatch the bags of Bianji and Lace from their shoulders and vanished around the door.

Mikelle kept her face smooth as she observed the exchange. Her stronghold would now have to be Bianji or the Prince. She could not manage to walk all the way to the livery without help, and Lace was too small. She swallowed, hating to think of herself as weak, but since the wrangling of the women earlier that day, she had not regained her strength.

“Prince Nolen,” she ventured and looked down at his arm. “We should be better acquainted if we are to be traveling companions.”

He turned and lifted his hand with a dark smirk. “I thought we already were.”

She took his arm and felt the smooth suede of his coat that smelled of leather. He was slender as a whip, but she could feel the touch of his body under the layers of wool. She swore he had not an ounce of fat to him and was in need of a loaf of buttered bread and bacon. If the Prince did not let up, Gabriel was going to follow suit quickly. She watched his face slim down, saw the looseness in the hem of his trousers, and had seen servants take untouched food from his rooms. He hardly ate a morsel since his flogging.

Nolen led them out, and she did her best to keep to his pace as the breath rose in her chest and heat flushed her face. He was telling a story about beating a baggage boy. He thought it was amusing, and she tittered when he paused, but she ignored most of what he said. As handsome as his outside was, he was a repulsive man.

The sun had already passed its zenith by the time they reached the livery. Gabriel stood with his back against a support beam, head down, glancing up now and again to survey the saddling of horses. A handsome gray destrier gave three men a fight but calmed when he saw Nolen. The remaining horses, well-bred coursers from the Kingdom of Aidenmar, were saddled and strapped with bags.

The livery was as clean as any hall, decorated in deep green tiles from floor to the arched ceiling, cobbled in dark river stones worn smooth. Each horse had a stall half as large as her bedchamber, and each brushed to a glossy sheen. Young boys and girls in the gray mantles of livery servants perched on stools beside stall doors tending to the other horses and tack. It smelled like horse and dust but was not as off putting as Mikelle imagined most liveries.

“Cinch that girth tighter. Would you have me fall to my death on your account?”

Nolen released her arm to go to the destrier as he barked at a young man. She made her way to Gabriel as quickly as she could, which was slow. If Bianji or Lace saw her weakness, they made no distinction, but she had years of practice to hide it with a languorous walk and seemingly surveying eyes. “Which is mine?”

Gabriel pointed to a golden mare with slender legs. “She’s short, in case you fall.”

“Insulted,” she smirked and gave him a playful swat.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Calm yourself.”

Gabriel walked her over to her mare and helped her mount, making a stirrup of his hands. He handed her the reins; his left hand lingered on the leather as it wove through his fingers. She realized he was showing her how to hold them. It was most unlike Arconians, but she took them up and wove them around her pinky and index.
‘You are an observant one.’

“Do we have to make connection with the horses?” Nolen asked Lace, holding the reins to the handsome gray.

“Everything you wish to be transported must be in connection with Mage Gabriel and myself. Connection to the reins is not sufficient,” Lace explained, readying her part of the sidestep-pattern, a twisted coil with so many lines Mikelle lost count. Gabriel’s hand reached up and took a fistful of her horses’ mane within her reach, and she put her palm over his wrist, careful to not touch the Castrofax.

Nolen pinched his lips together as he put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, and Mikelle watched the Class Ten stiffen. His spine locked up as he straightened. Lace glanced at him and watched for several long seconds before he took a breath in. Putting her own hand through his, she placed the other on her black gelding. Bianji joined the connection with a hand on her roan and the other on the back of Nolen’s neck. He turned to sneer at her, but she only smiled and tightened her grip.