She blinked away tears. “I didn’t believe you.”
“I know.”
Rezkin motioned for Wesson to construct a ward around them as they strode onto the deck. Although the rain was heavy, the ocean had relaxed to an easy roll. The water slid off Wesson’s shield in every direction, creating a glistening curtain between them and the outside world. Rezkin stopped when they were out of the way of the crew. He almost felt the need to brace himself. He felt drained of energy and famished. He put aside his discomfort to confront the battle mage.
“You do not have a problem with what you have learned?”
Wesson shook his head slowly. “No, I have many problems with it.”
“And?”
“It is as I told Frisha. I do not presume to know you. The fact remains that King Bordran, your father, had you trained to be this way for a reason.”
Wesson paused, resting his eyes on the cascading water. His gaze was distant as he continued. “My father worked at the palace before I was born. He was a minor noble—not important—at least, not in a political sense. He was an earth mage and an artist. I have seen some of his work. It is unusual for an earth mage to possess a delicate touch, but he created beautiful works of art. He was responsible for maintaining the carvings and sculptures on the palace grounds and for creating new ones. Sometimes he did work for the cities or nobles like Lord Tieran’s father. He died when I was eight, but before that, we spoke often about all nature of things—about serious matters people do not usually discuss with children. When I look back now, it seems as if he knew he would not live to see me grown.”
He met Rezkin’s intent gaze. “My father said that King Bordran was a stern man, not kind, but a good king who deserved our respect. I have watched you, and I think perhaps you are the same. My father believed in Bordran, and I believe in you.”
Rezkin did not thank Wesson for his faith. To do so would have been petty and self-aggrandizing. The mage’s faith, like that of his followers, was not a gift to be appreciated, but an assignment of duty to be fulfilled. Instead he said, “How did your father die?”
“When my mother was pregnant, he resigned from his job at the palace. He purchased a small estate in a rural village of western Ashai and took over as master of the local quarry. He later died in an accident, crushed under a pile of rock.”
Rezkin tilted his head. “An experienced earth mage was crushed in an accident at a quarry.”
Wesson looked at him with haunted eyes. “Yes.”
Chapter 8
The remainder of the trip to the Ferélli port city of Esk consisted of days upon days of rain, wind, and choppy seas. Frisha was frustrated with Xa’s insistence on following her around the entire time. After nearly getting washed overboard once, he restricted her to the cabin. His protectiveness was worse than Rezkin’s, and although Xa smiled more often, his humor was dark and his manners lacking. She missed the pleasant days when Rezkin strolled along the road beside her discussing the plants and animals. Then she remembered that those had been the quiet moments between storms. He had been out killing people and tasking thieves and assassins when she was not looking. Every once in a while, when she felt his gaze on her, she would glance up just as he looked away and wonder which of those people he was in that moment. Was he missing her, too, or was he thinking of ways to kill her? She then wondered what, exactly, she would have to do to lose his friendship.
“So, I’m a warrior and a healer,” Reaylin said smugly. She nodded toward Yserria and Nanessy Threll and said, “She’s a knight, and she’s a mage. What is your function on this trip, Frisha?”
“Reaylin, you shouldn’t be unkind,” said Yserria. “Frisha has not yet found her purpose. That does not mean she has less value. Rezkin says potential is the greatest asset, and I think Frisha has much potential.”
“Potential for what?” said Reaylin.
Yserria glanced at Frisha. “Well, I don’t know, but potential without direction is still potential.”
“It’s alright,” said Frisha. “I know I’m useless—useless and stupid.” Frisha did not look up as she pushed her potatoes around her plate.
Reaylin and Yserria exchanged glances. Yserria said, “Why do you say that?”
“I just … I make stupid decisions. I’m not even supposed to be here. I stowed away.”
Reaylin released a long whistle. “Oh, I bet Rezkin was livid.”
“You have no idea.”
Yserria nodded toward Xa who was seated at another table but still within arm’s reach. “I guess that explains your new shadow. I can’t imagine what Rezkin would do if something happened to his betrothed.”
Frisha flushed. She had avoided talking about what had happened, mostly because the more she talked, the harder it would be to avoid their questions. Rezkin had not bothered to correct anyone when they made such comments, so she had not either. Why had he not said anything? Did he still think they would marry, or was he protecting her from the embarrassment? Perhaps it was part of some insidious plan. She did not want to be a part of the Raven’s plans.
Frisha abruptly stood. “I need to speak with Rezkin.”
It was only after she said it that she realized she had interrupted Mage Threll. The other women had moved on to a different discussion while she had been lost in thought. She apologized for the interruption and then staggered out of the mess. Although walking on the ship had gotten easier with time, the vessel occasionally plunged unexpectedly.
Rezkin was in his quarters deep in discussion with Strikers Shezar and Farson when Frisha stumbled into the berth.
“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. She turned to leave but ran into Xa.
“No, stay,” Rezkin said. To the strikers, he said, “Go eat. We will resume this discussion afterward.” When they had gone, he told Xa that he, too, could take a break. When the assassin looked uncertain, Rezkin smirked. “I will not kill her while you are gone.”
Xa glanced at Frisha in warning, as if telling her to behave.
After the door closed, Rezkin sat back in the chair behind his desk. “What do you need, Frisha?”
She bit her lip with uncertainty, then lost her footing. Rezkin waved toward the bed, and she hesitantly perched on the edge.
She said, “I’ve been thinking about, um, about you, I guess, and I’m terribly conflicted. When I see you, I see the Rezkin I’ve known, the one I thought to marry. Now, I don’t know if any of that was real because there are these other things—terrible things—that have happened. I didn’t see them happen, but I know they did, and you say you are responsible for them.” Her eyes were large and pleading as she looked up at him. “How can you be someone I know and a complete stranger at the same time?” He had no answer for her, but she did not seem to expect one. She said, “Are you still angry?”
He watched her in silence for a while. Finally, he said, “I admit that I was frustrated with your lack of regard for your own life. I have dealt with those feelings and will endeavor to remain emotionally withdrawn, as I should have been all along. I apologize for my failure. I also recognize that your decisions were based on a false sense of security that I inadvertently instilled in you. The event has reaffirmed my belief that it is better for the ro to know the dangers they face. Still, I need people to continue functioning properly, so I cannot tell everyone the whole truth. It is apparent from your behavior that I may lose their trust and loyalty.”
Frisha dropped her gaze to the floor. “I know I have made some stupid mistakes. I act on my feelings and don’t always think things through.”
“Perhaps knowing someone else’s survival is dependent on yours will encourage you to be more responsible.”