The Royal Wizard (16 page)

The chamber echoed with silent hisses and growls, the Others voicing their displeasure. It made Nia’s head throb and her face heat with embarrassment.

Even the knights started, all and one at the insult Saeran had just delivered, degrading his right hand to the level of a peasant. It was cruel but not completely unexpected. She’d hurt him and now he wanted to hurt her back. The malicious gleam in his eyes told Nia she’d done it so well Saeran had no idea the pain he felt was hers as well. He never would, if she had any say.

Nia complied, taking the insult in stride. She would not disobey the king. Descending the steps to the bottom, she faced Saeran with her head high, eager for this humiliation to be over with. The caravan would be arriving soon. And they were expected. The Others knew it, too. Several of them loped, slithered, or simply disappeared to see the new queen arrive. But the rest stayed behind to watch Nia.

Why are you here?
she thought, casting the question out to all of them.

The Sidhe dressed in flowing gowns and robes came closer, so near she could make out the diamonds inlaid in their pearlescent skin.
What will you do?
 the silver haired female asked without her mouth moving.
When the river forks and jagged rocks await you down each path, which will you choose to brave?

Humans have their laws of honor,
the male said.
We follow our hearts—that is our justice. What will you do? We wish to see.

We wish to see who you are,
the female added.

“The time has come for me to take a wife and ensure a line of succession,” Saeran said and both Sidhe turned their heads in unison to look at him.

From the other side of her, the dark male dire wolf stalked out of the crowd, head canted low. He moved just behind her, his fur bristling against her skin and the Sidhe retreated as if afraid of him.
Have you learned?
He growled in her ear.

“Under different circumstances I would be choosing from among our noble maidens the one most fitting to stand by my side.” He looked at her as he said it and Nia flinched. He’d dressed in his most intricate clothes, the cloak dyed a stunning shade of blue and a thick bear skin over his shoulders. A heavy chain hung about his neck, the crown he seldom wore resting on his head. For all the splendor, he could not hide the shadows beneath his eyes. His hair was shaggy and the beginnings of a beard made his handsome face look gaunt and his gray eyes even paler. Saeran looked every bit the king he was and every bit as miserable. The sight of him pained her twice over, for she knew the cause of his despair.

He has,
the dire wolf said and moved away, back to his mate. His tail struck the backs of Nia’s legs and she was grateful for the staff which kept her from falling to her knees.

“Happily, I have no need of it, as I have chosen my intended bride years ago. Knights, you may be the first to hear the news. I will be taking my chosen to wife within a week.” His gaze settled on Nia again, expectant. “Wizard, what think you of this?”

Nia bowed her head. “A wise decision, Majesty,” she answered in a hollow formal tone. “That very same bride now approaches in the caravan, does she not?”

She spoke without a wince or flinch, without any indication that she felt anything at all. Saeran’s very soul rebelled at making the proclamation, and Nia stood there as if she didn’t know. And there were Others around them, Saeran could feel it. Their presence set him on edge, made him feel as if he were being judged without knowing what he’d done.

“Indeed,” he replied, silently damning all of them, including Nia. Did she not care in the least? Seeing she wouldn’t stop this nonsense, Saeran drew himself up and made himself the king he was. “I wish to inform my father at once. The wedding will not take place until he is here to witness it. Knights, you may choose to remain for the happy occasion.”

“Majesty,” Nia spoke before any of the knights could say a word. “Allow me to congratulate you on this happy occasion.”

“I thank you,” he said.

“And as it appears that you shall be indisposed for some time to come, it is my duty to aid you and relieve you of some of your responsibilities, this company of travelers among them.”

Unease and dread made Saeran shift in his seat. “What are you saying?”

“I will facilitate a communication to King Manfred about the arrival of your bride that he may join you and give his blessing. And then I will accompany Sir Frederick and his knights north and serve as their guide.”

Saeran’s eyes narrowed. “Leave us,” he commanded the knights.

They picked themselves up and wisely retreated, but in their absence, the great hall felt even more crowded. Magic throbbed in the air, pushing on his mind, demanding all his secrets. He resisted, but in the effort something changed. Saeran could see currents of multicolored lights flowing left and right, whispers passing among the Others. Though they hid themselves, they could not hide their magic.

Nia stood her ground, her gaze steady on some point beyond him as if none of it mattered one way or another, including him. The king forced his muscles to unclench enough to allow him to speak. “You think to abandon your post?”

“I am confident that you will not require my counsel for the time being. The journey ahead of these men is not a short one, but with my aid, we can all be back before a fortnight has passed.”

She was not asking him. The wizard was telling him she was leaving, in a way that dared him to argue. He couldn’t believe the months he’d known her to be a lie, yet here she stood as if none of it had happened. She’d deceived him then, or she was deceiving him now and how could he have a wizard he didn’t trust giving him counsel?

How could he have anyone but Nia at his side?

Trumpets blared, announcing the caravan’s approach and Nia flinched, light flaring out of her skin briefly before she pulled it back and Saeran’s eyes widened. She was hiding. He made himself push his emotions aside and truly look at her. He had never seen Nia as anything but composed in the great hall, ever the calm, steady strength at his back. Now she was tense, her posture rigid. She clutched her staff in a white-knuckled hold and her wolf pelt was gone. She looked tired, haunted and lost.

She looked as if she would rather be anywhere but here, and Saeran didn’t have the heart to force her to stay. “So be it,” he said and it felt right to say, though he could barely admit it to himself. “You leave by sunset.”

* * *

With the exception of last night, holding the window open for Saeran to tell his father he was getting married to the Aegiran girl was the most excruciating thing Nia had ever endured. Manfred knew the moment he saw his son that something was amiss, but he attributed it to the impending ceremony. No one wanted Saeran to marry the girl: not Manfred, not Halden, and certainly not Saeran, that was obvious.

He would do it because it was his duty, and because Nia gave him no other choice. By the time she let go of the spell she was exhausted and she still had to prepare for the journey into the most inhospitable land known to man. There was a reason why no one ever ventured far beyond Wilderheim’s northern border. Nothing lived there but creatures humans ought not tangle with.

Saeran sat forward in his chair, staring at the ground by her feet. His fists were clenched tight enough to shake the slightest bit, and she had to stop herself from reaching out to him. Rubbing her tired eyes, she rose from her seat and turned for the door.

“Don’t go,” he said. It was so soft Nia half thought she’d imagined it.

She turned back to face him. “I must.” There was no other way. She could tolerate being in the shadows, she could stand his anger or indifference, but she could not stand there and watch Saeran take a wife. When he did, Nia needed to be as far away as possible.

He smiled bitterly. “I remember when you spoke your oath to me; I believed every word you said.
As long as need be, until death or longer.
Do you know, I believe it still? I just never realized the one thing you would not be able to save me from is myself.”

One more time, Nia focused her Sight to scry the air and looked into the future, seeking any way to avoid this. What she saw was war. Hundreds of horses trampling fields, sowing salt in their wake and setting crops aflame. Swords clashing, magic burning through the night, and blood. So much blood. Death and disaster waited down every path she chose. An arrow through the chest. A blade across the neck. Poison in a chalice of wine. Treachery and deceit. She flinched each time she saw Saeran meet his end. Frastmir would burn to the ground one way or another, unless Nia did what she already knew had to be done. There was no other way. “This is the way it has to be.”

Saeran nodded, his eyes bleak. “I suppose it is.”

She was at the door when his voice stopped her a second time.

“I know you will not want to,” he said. “But come back to me anyway.”

* * *

Close to sunset the gates opened to admit the caravan. Over twenty riders entered, followed by a great tent-like carriage and an entourage of another twenty people on foot. Nia and the knights watched their progress from the stables. Their horses ready and their supplies packed, they came outside, to join the curious crowds in the courtyard.

A single wind instrument played in the tent-carriage, its melody sounding their soft fanfare. These were desert people. They wore long robes and cloth wound about their heads, their horses’ reigns adorned with tufts of ribbons and cords. The women were draped in robes from neck to foot and they wore veils to cover their hair and face. Nothing but their hands showed. An odd way to dress, Nia thought, but then they must be thinking the same about the northerners.

Wondering what Saeran would think of this, Nia glanced up at the castle windows. She could just make out his shadow in one of them. But he didn’t seem to be looking at the caravan. As soon as she caught sight of him, he stepped away from the window and out of sight.

No good to be leaving in pain,
Stardust told her, gently butting his nose against her shoulder.

“I know,” she replied. “But it would be even worse if I stayed.”

The caravan stopped and the men dismounted as Nia swung into her own saddle and made ready to ride out. As she nudged Stardust forward, a bright glitter caught her eye. One of the men in the entourage was not a southerner. He dressed in robes, yes, but he wore no cloth around his head, and his hair was as fair as her own. About his neck hung a pendant. It was a glittering black stone as big as her palm, set in pale gold. Curious, Nia tried to get a better look, but with so many people milling in the courtyard, it was of no use. She gave up for the moment, shaking her head at her own silliness.

But when they passed close by, the pendant once more caught her eye as the man bowed. Her gaze became unfocused as she watched the pendant sway back and forth and in the haze, she saw a vision. No longer in the courtyard, she watched the dream unfold before her.

There were two women, the older teaching the younger her craft. She was a midwife, well liked and respected in her village. But soon, the vision showed her, the younger woman surpassed her mentor and fearing the old woman was no longer trustworthy, the villagers turned from her, to her apprentice.

The old midwife ran on stiff legs to a great rock that served as an altar and dropped to her aged knees. With her arms raised above her head, she beseeched the gods. She cried to the heavens, invoked incantations she had no knowledge of, shouted for all the gods she could name until one of them answered.

Lightning struck the altar, frightening her into fleeing for her life, but when she found her courage again and cautiously returned, she discovered a jewel. Taking it into her bony hands, she turned it to the light and Nia saw through her eyes the wicked gleam of Loki’s gaze in the depths of that black crystal.

In the next blink Nia was in the young apprentice’s cottage. The woman was asleep in her bed, wearing the pendant around her neck, a treasured gift from her mentor. The gleam of a knife by candlelight was the only thing to betray the old midwife before she plunged the blade into the sleeping woman’s chest. The apprentice died quietly, with no one the wiser and her murderer retrieved her gods given trinket with shaking hands.

As soon as she put it on, her posture straightened and she sighed, walking away with an easy step. Too easy for one so old.

Stardust jolted her and Nia blinked, finding herself the object of a curiously knowing gaze as the man with the pendant grinned at her. Before she could approach him, Stardust took off, leading the way out of the castle. 

CHAPTER 16

The first stretch of the path north was easy enough, and they rode hard to make headway before the sun dipped low. The wide, well used dirt road wound through the forest for miles until it ended abruptly as if whoever traversed it suddenly decided they’d gone far enough and turned back the way they’d come. Beyond this point, there was nothing but trees.

Nia would have ridden on, but the knights grew wary of riding in the dark of night. The moon wasn’t bright enough to touch the forest floor and lighting torches would only blind them to the shadows. They made camp under a giant oak and lit a small fire to stave off the chill of night. Once everything was done, they retreated together for prayer, leaving Nia alone to stare into the flames. Shapes danced within them, slender, sensuous waifs moving to the music of the night. Fire sprites.

They danced and they beckoned to her, smiling when she refused to join their play. “What do you want?” she asked, tired of being made a source of amusement.

The sprites laughed, making the fire crackle and spark.

Nia blew on the flames, banishing the sprites in lieu of a vision. Scrying flames was different than air or water, the images obscured by ash and smoke. It was also more difficult because fire touched Spirit and Soul. Asking something of the flames meant opening oneself to them, and more often than not, the fire pointed in two different directions. One leading to the object sought, the other to the one most desired, without revealing which was which. It was as close to deceit as an element could get and even then it was self-deceit which sent a petitioner the wrong way. Some desires ran so deep a person was not always aware of them.