“I don’t know them!” I shouted, the anger rushing through my veins giving me renewed strength. “I’m an Enforcer, not a deserter! I don’t know anything about the Resistance!”
Director Chartis walked around the desk slowly, his wintergreen eyes gleaming. “I think you know more than you are letting on,” he said. “Your cousin Rylan is a member of the Resistance. How can you claim to know nothing about them?”
“Rylan and I don’t exactly talk much,” I snapped. “Like I said, I’m an Enforcer. He wouldn’t want to put me in a bad position.”
“Oh really?” the Director sneered. “If you don’t talk much, then how is it that he knew exactly what room you were in when he came to rescue you?”
I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. There was nothing I could tell him that wouldn’t incriminate Rylan. Clenching my hands, I glared at him, wishing I could conjure a fireball so I could melt the self-satisfied expression off his face.
“You can’t prove that Rylan was there last night. The shifters who tried to break in were gone by the time you showed up.”
The Director scoffed. “Please! As if any judge or jury wouldn’t believe my word over his.” He pinned me with a cold glare. “Enough games, Miss Baine. You will tell me what I want to know, or else –”
“And just what is it that you want to know, Argon?”
My knees wobbled at the sound of Iannis’s voice coming from the entrance to the chamber. Relief rushed through me as I turned to see him striding up the carpet, with Fenris in wolf form trotting at his heels. His expression was stony as usual, but the blaze in his violet eyes told a different story – someone was about to get a serious ass kicking.
And for once, it wasn’t me.
“Lord Iannis.” The Director bowed deeply, and I caught the scent of fear rolling off him. “I was simply questioning the prisoner –”
“In the audience chamber? Wearing ceremonial robes?”
Director Chartis flushed, drawing his gold and blue robes around himself, and it dawned on me that perhaps he was being a little too zealous about his Acting Chief Mage status. Was he plotting to steal the coveted title for himself?
“The Resistance made a rescue attempt on the prisoner last night,” Director Chartis said stiffly. “I thought it best to get to the heart of this matter as quickly as possible –”
“Without even informing me that such an attempt occurred?”
“I –”
“No.” The Chief Mage’s voice turned dangerously soft as he took a step forward. “This is my city, my palace, and you do not have leave to make decisions like this without my knowledge. Over the past week I have been made aware of several instances where you have acted on reports without telling me of either the reports or the actions you took. This is unacceptable.”
“My Lord,” Director Chartis protested, “I was simply trying not to burden you with petty matters –”
“The fact that you have been using apprentices and low-level mages to magic-wipe citizens is not a petty matter!” The Chief Mage made a swift motion with his arm, and a wave of magic steamrolled over everyone in the room, forcing us all to our knees. Even Fenris was affected, though there was no terror in his yellow eyes, unlike the others. “And neither is the fact that you have taken no action against the guards who nearly killed my prisoner in the kitchen, yet now you have time to interrogate her. And in my audience chambers, no less.” Magic crackled in the air around him, filling the room with dangerous tension and making it hard to breathe. “You have been undermining my authority at every opportunity, and I won’t stand for it anymore. You are dismissed.”
Chartis’s face reddened as he jerked his gaze up from the floor to the Chief Mage’s head. “You are terminating me from my position? You can’t be serious!”
“I am.” Iannis made another gesture with his hand, and the magic pushing us down to the floor abruptly dissipated. “Guards, remove this mage from the chamber. He is banished from the palace, and his apprentice will be reassigned.”
I got to my feet shakily as the guards dragged a raging Chartis out the doors. Elgarion followed behind his master, but not before shooting me a frigid glance that promised retribution – naturally this whole thing was my fault. But Fenris trotted up to me, rubbing his head against my legs, and I reached down to rub his thick brown pelt.
“You’re alright?”
“Starving and shaky,” I admitted, taking comfort from the warmth in his body, “But alive.”
“I’ll get you some food.”
Nodding, I looked up to meet the Chief Mage’s gaze. If I thought he’d be sympathetic to me, I was wrong – his frigid glare bore into me without mercy, filling me with dread all over again. Was he going to punish me?