The White Forest (Mages and Kingdoms Book 2) (8 page)

Amelie

When Amelie returned to
the throne room, she learned Lotis had indeed reserved every course with Lord Thorne.

“I but only mentioned you were willing and he filled his dining card right there on the spot,” she said in amazement. She watched Amelie as though diamonds would begin to fall from her hair if she twirled. Her eyes were full of awe.

Amelie waved off the adoration. “Very well,” she said trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. This was a good thing. Every course next to the man meant more opportunities to lift his seal.

Only, where in all the heavens was this thing?

She tried to take every opportunity to answer that question while seated next to him for the duration of the banquet. The effort she put into feigning her interest in the man was heavy since she did it without her magic.

Amelie smiled and nodded and gave small spurts of laughter during her conversation with Lord Thorne. She leaned in when his voice dropped, her eyes flicked to his while she sipped her soup, she bit her lower lip and flushed at his compliments.

It was old territory.

She did feel a heightened sense of uncertainty since she’d never attempted this behavior without the aid of her persuasion. This was much easier when she had the men ensnared. Tonight, she had to convince Lord Thorne to desire her in the natural way.

“I’m surprised you let them all go,” she said, pretending to be enthralled over a tale in which Lord Thorne uncovered thieves in the palace. She placed a hand on his forearm for emphasis. She then rubbed it lightly. No seal stashed there.

He frowned at his arm but it was fleeting and his casual grin was in place before anyone else noticed. “I could tell it would not happen again,” he replied. “No reason for punishment if the lesson is learned, I say.”

“That’s your power then?” Amelie asked. “You sense truth?”

His smile faltered. “No one has that power,” he said and Amelie had to will her heart to stop pounding. Yes, someone did. A small child in hiding. She took a long sip of wine to mask the worry on her face. When her goblet came down, she too had plastered on a smile.

“Then what is your power, my lord?”

He chuckled. “It’s easy to forget you’re new to our forest. It’s been quite some time since I was asked that question. I’m a royal reader.”

He raised his hand to signal to a servant and Amelie watched his tunic. No bulges appeared in the stretched fabric over his torso as his arm lifted. Amelie cursed under her breath. She couldn’t risk getting more affectionate with him in this crowded room without crossing into inappropriate decorum. Already Queen Trinity was keeping a keen eye on their interactions. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she noticed Amelie looking in her direction.

So be it. She didn’t need to be a lady in this court. Decorum be damned.

“How do you find the fish?” the woman next to her asked.

The smile Amelie kept flashing in response to these mages was beginning to pull painfully at her face.

Still, she ducked her head a little in a shy fashion and offered the painful smile to the woman. “It’s delicious,” she lied. In truth, her mind was occupied with thoughts of Simon and making it on time to the stables and trying to figure out where the seal was. All this worry numbed her palate.

She studied Lord Thorne in between tasteless bites. He looked to be about Simon’s age, with wrinkles that appeared around his amber eyes every time he smiled. There was a scattering of gray in his light beard, but not enough to add up to the information Rankor provided. He said Henna had known the lord well.

When? As a child?

Amelie didn’t think so. There was magic at play here. Henna’s years were evident in her gray hair and from her plump figure that bore skin with far more wrinkles and a heavy dose of sun spots. Henna wore her age. Lord Thorne did not.

The banquet had progressed through the chocolate course and the appetizers which had been served standing. Everyone then proceeded to the dining area where they were presented with the soup course, the ice course in which tiny sparkling sculptures carved out of sweetened ice popped flavor on the tongues of the guests, and now they were being served the dinner course. Lemon trout with whipped parsnips and warm bread. After this course, Amelie learned, was the brandy course. Small glasses of brown liquid were to be sipped as the gentlemen escorted the ladies back to where the night began – in the throne room.

She didn’t have much time left. She needed to switch tactics. The quickest way to lower people’s defenses was to tease them with something they wanted.

Queen Trinity wanted her powers. And information. So it was safe for Amelie to assume that Lord Thorne would want the same things.

“I was told the queen kept a record of every mage born in every village.”

Lord Thorne looked at her with interest. “Yes. In a library here at the palace.”

“I am curious to know who my father is. I think as soon as this dinner is over, I might pop in there and take a look for myself. My mother did tell me
some
facts about my father. If he were the mage, perhaps seeing his name would jog my memory.” She bit her lip and looked down for effect. “I should really like to know.”

“Which village?” Lord Thorne asked.

Amelie didn’t pause. Her mind conjured up one of the many mentioned to her in her eventful day. She thought of the mage Lotis had described who’d occupied her room previously. “The Heather Village.”

Lord Thorne’s eyebrows rose thoughtfully. “That village is quite small. It wouldn’t take long to look.”

Amelie smiled, injecting an adequate amount of hope into her features. “Really? Would you show me? Does the final course take long?”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “We need not wait. I can show you now. If you have finished your meal.”

“Oh, my lord, I could kiss you,” Amelie replied breathless.

His eyebrows wagged. “I’ll remember that.”

Lord Thorne said something quietly to the mage next to him, patting him on the shoulder, before he took Amelie’s hand and led her out of the dining area. The queen’s eyes followed.

Amelie pressed closer to Lord Thorne’s back to make the exit look more scandalous. Better that than what she was really planning.

Amelie

They took an exit
that led out to a different hall than the one in which Amelie encountered Rankor. In this hall, bronze warrior angels towered over them, clutching their weapon of choice. Amelie wished for her daggers. A quick plunge to the side of this mage’s neck would buy her all the time she needed to find the seal and rid this realm of an adversary.

She bided her time, giggling while he shushed her and keeping close to his heels. His movements were shakier than hers. She’d drunk one goblet to his four. She paced herself in the nectar wine as she watched him consume. She did not know what it would take to topple him but four was looking promising.

When they were quite some distance from the banquet hall, but not so far into the maze Amelie would get turned around, she acted.

Laughing as she stumbled into him, her tittering dissolved into a mangled grunt as she twisted his arm behind his back and pulled him to her. The action caught him off guard and he stumbled backward, giving her knee a more powerful blow to the tender area in his lower back.

The element of surprise was short lived. He fell to the ground but was on all fours then pulling himself up much faster than any man should after a hit like that. All signs of drunkenness were gone. He was as smooth and cool as steel as he appraised her. Amelie crouched, her muscles coiled for defense.

“So you can fight,” Lord Thorne commented, wiping a smudge of blood off his lip with his sleeve. “And the mysterious half mage continues to deliver.” His smile was vicious. “Tell me, Miss Amelie. What other mysteries are you hiding?”

Amelie attempted a kick to the gut but he was ready for her now and grabbed her calf. He used his body to propel a swing and threw her across the hallway. She slid over the smooth floor, back first, into the angel Marcus. His saber clattered to the floor next to her and with a fluid movement, she swiped it up and jumped to her feet, ready for the next blow. Her dress irritated her. Her attacks were slower and Lord Thorne was clearly trained.

He didn’t move from his position. It forced her to attack. She was short on time and it was her hide on the line if anyone stumbled upon them and found them trading blows. She raised her impromptu weapon above her head. It was heavier than she could properly handle and her swaths of fabric made it feel like she was fighting in thick mud. Lord Thorne moved in to counter her, grabbing her by the wrist and causing her to lose the grip on the saber. With a small cry, she drove her free elbow into the side of his neck and punched a fierce undercut to his sensitive man area when he dropped his hold on her other hand in surprise.

Lord Thorne buckled in pain, but he did not go down. In fact, he recovered much quicker than Amelie anticipated and used a strong hand to catch her by the throat.

“I think you are misinterpreting the point of this banquet,” the lord spat, squeezing. Amelie’s face was held fast in front of him, her eyes boring into his. All pretenses were cleared from them. Gone was the jovial flirt she spent the evening with. She could now clearly see his contempt for her and his desire for power.

Amelie pulled her pin from her hair and shoved it into his wrist, into the joint where the pain would be most keenly felt. His arm was longer than hers, keeping her from placing it into his jugular but her actions at least freed her.

Lord Thorne was still quick. He knocked her down with his boot and was straddling her before she could react. What was his secondary power? Speed? Self-healing?

She tried to fight him off but he outweighed her and his toned arms did not need much strength to hold her.

“Now, now,” he coaxed predatorily. “Be a good fiancé and hold still.”

Before Amelie could spit back a vulgar retort, the weight was suddenly lifted from her as a heavy object struck Lord Thorne in the side of the head. The blow collapsed him immediately. Amelie scrambled backwards and looked up.

John stood over her, holding the weapon. A shield from one of the statues.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

Amelie eyed him warily, not sure if she should thank him or prepare for another fight. “Is it customary for the White Guard to attack a Royal Reader?”

“I’ve been wanting to hit that bastard for years.” He replaced the shield on the owning statue and offered a hand to help her up. “Weapons in your hair,” he commented as she took it. He pulled, lifting her from the floor. “Inventive. I’m jealous.”

“It’s not the first time they’ve gotten me out of a scrape,” Amelie admitted. “Why, may I ask, are you helping me take out Lord Thorne?”

“To help get you to the stables.”

Amelie started in surprise. “You know?”

John nodded. “Your silver-haired friend found me. I was interrogating the gatekeeper when I was interrupted.” John caught her glowering look and explained, “When I say I was interrogating Simon, it means that I was slipping him food from the banquet. You needn’t worry. He is well.”

She had more questions. His answers demanded more. But there wasn’t much time. She crouched down next to Lord Thorne’s crumpled body and began patting him down, sticking her hands in places that had made her blush the first time she’d searched a spy. Now, even with an audience, there was no hesitation as she searched for the seal.

John put a fist in front of her face and opened it, revealing a metallic disc pressed with the image of a snake curled around a mountain. Amelie’s hands stilled and she looked up at the White Guard.

“He said you’d need this. I lifted it as soon as I entered the banquet. I meant to slip it to you but you brought him out here to beat on him before I had the chance.”

“Is there no end to your usefulness?” Amelie snatched seal and tucked it into her dress.

“How about a hint? Do not go to blows with a Shield unless you’re wielding something heavy and you can get to his head.”

“Shield?”

“His lesser power. His body can withstand hits normal men cannot. His head is his only weakness.”

John bent over and grabbed a hold of Lord Thorne’s feet. He used his head to motion to a door across the hallway. “Open the door. The piano room.”

Amelie’s nose crinkled in disgust. “A knife to the throat would be swifter.”

“Calm your thirst for blood. He’s more valuable alive. If that were not so, he would’ve been killed long ago. Now. The door.”

Amelie obliged and John pulled the lord into the room and shut the door. “He always beds some naïve maiden at these functions. No one will miss him for a few hours.”

“Hopefully everyone thinks I am that stupid maiden so they don’t miss me either,” Amelie responded. “I was sure to leave the dinner most distastefully with him.”

John nodded. “I saw. Simon did not reveal much about you, but you are far more talented than I think even he realizes. It is not many women who discard their reputation to gain the advantage in a mission.”

“There is no currency in my reputation here. I have no desire to reside in any realm the White Queen deems hers.”

“We share that sentiment. This way.” John took her by the elbow and started leading her down the hallway. He spoke as they walked. “Lord Thorne did not see me when I attacked. I must have your trust that you will tell no one what happened here.”

“You’re the leader of the White Guard.”

“Aye. And a strong opponent of the queen. I’m a member of a growing resistance group. My role here in the palace is vital to its mission. So I must keep my true motives hidden.”

“I assure you, I understand completely.”

They stepped outside. The smooth purple fabric of her dress did nothing to ward off the chill in the air. John pointed over a field to the west. “The stables are that way. This is where I must leave you.”

“I thank you, John.” Words she never thought she’d say to the man that hauled her to the White Palace in the first place.

He nodded. “Hurry.”

Amelie didn’t need further coaxing. She ran as fast as her clothing would allow, using the hour of the night and the fact that most of the people in the palace were in the throne room as cover.

She found the stables easily enough. They were set apart from all other structures, giving enough of a wide berth of land for the horses to be trained on. Amelie was glad the high fashion for balls and parties included fancy boots made to look like slippers but allowed the wearer to stand for long periods of time and dance with ease. It helped with her haste where her full skirt did not.

Simon and Rankor were sitting on the grass, leaning up against one of the fence posts and sharing a pipe. They looked like two old friends enjoying the night breeze. It made Amelie feel almost idiotic at her frantic pace with dried grass on her dress and horse shit on her shoes.

They scrambled up when they saw her.

“You said dawn,” Simon accused quietly to Rankor who shrugged, pulling his eyes over Amelie’s disheveled state.

“I keep underestimating her,” was his reply.

“So he’s not dead,” Simon said, turning to Amelie. His voice held a note of animosity, as if he thought she’d been hiding this information from everyone.

“As you can see,” Amelie retorted. “Henna’s son has no shortage of surprises.” She pulled at her dress uncomfortably. “A knife, please,” Amelie requested and Simon held a blade out to her. She promptly began cutting off the bulk of her skirt until she had two thin layers that fell to right above her knee. Absolutely scandalous, but she needed the freedom of movement.

“Well then,” Rankor said suggestively, earning a glare from Amelie and an uncomfortable cough from Simon.

“Let’s go,” she said frostily.

They made their way to the north end of the stables. As they crept closer, Amelie’s uneasiness grew.

“Simon, can you use your spells so we can sneak off with some of the unguarded horses?” she asked. She still wanted to avoid any contact with the royal staff if possible, seal or no.

Simon shook his head. “I can’t carry three horses and the two of you. And we have so little moonstone between us. I have a feeling we’ll need it so we should reserve it.”

Rankor’s head snapped between them at the mention of moonstone. Amelie sighed. She’d have to tell Simon to watch what he said around him. She wondered if Simon even knew the extent of Rankor’s actions in his quest to collect mage powers.

“Yes, Rankor,” she confirmed his questioning stare. “I know all about moonstone now. And no. I’m not sharing it with you or telling you where it comes from. I’m not pouring power into you when it could mix with the amber in your blood and kill you. Besides, I still don’t wholly trust you.”

“And here I thought we were beyond petty deception,” he said, eyes narrowing. “We both know your fear is not my death.”

His look alone could’ve murdered a weaker woman. Amelie stood straighter, her muscles tensing for a fight. Before they could decide whether their temporary truce would hold or whether they’d try to gut each other, rays of torchlight illuminated their hiding spot. All three turned towards it.

“Who goes there?” a guard called out.

Amelie quickly pulled out the seal and tossed it to Simon. Better to have one of their own try to talk them into a horse. She hung back behind him, trying to cover her face as much as possible. She didn’t want him to have to explain why he was taking the half human with him.

“Business for the queen! We need three of the magic steeds.” Simon said, holding up the seal. The guard came forward and leaned closer to look at it, then summoned the stable hands to prepare the horses.

Rankor was completely accurate in his faith in the seal. They did not question them further as the horses were brought out and the three of them mounted. Amelie’s mind churned with questions. Just how powerful was this Lord Thorne Queen Trinity was trying to betroth her to?

“This isn’t over,” Rankor shot at her.

“Of course not,” Amelie replied in a straightforward tone. “This is only over when I’ve personally seen to your death.”

Slight admiration passed briefly over Rankor’s face at her words but it was gone as soon as she registered it. He leaned towards her in his saddle.

“Steer your horse to keep the gatekeeper or me in your sight and you will be fine,” he instructed.

Just as they were about to be on their way, a frantic voice called out “Stop!” and Amelie turned in her saddle to see several of the White Guard sprinting towards them.

“Looks like they found Gershan Thorne,” Amelie muttered and Rankor cast her a curious look.

“What did you do to get that thing?” he asked. Amelie didn’t answer and he wasn’t waiting for one. Instead, he turned and began to sprint. Simon did as well, glancing back at her to make sure she was following before the mist began to rise. Amelie did as she was told, turning her horse as they did, her surroundings a blur.