The Sentinel Mage

CHAPTER FIVE





“I DON’T LIKE him,” Gerit said.

“We could kill him while he sleeps,” Petrus suggested, his tone only half-joking. His pale hair gleamed like silver in the firelight. “And claim the bounty for ourselves.”

Gerit grunted a laugh. “And the curse?”

“We only need his blood,” Petrus said. “And his hands.”

“He’s afraid of us,” Innis said, reaching for her mug. “He’s afraid of magic. When I healed him, he fought it the whole time.” She’d been aware of the prince’s fear, aware of how much effort it had taken him to sit still, to let her heal him.

“Afraid?” Gerit said sourly. “Seems to me he hates us.”

“Of course he does,” Cora said. “Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms does. They think we’re monsters.” She flicked her plait over her shoulder and shrugged. “You know the stories they tell about us.”

Dareus leaned forward and stirred the fire. “The prince needs a guard. We need to make sure he’s never alone.” He jabbed at the logs, making sparks rise into the sky. “That cursed bounty!”

“He needs a personal armsman,” Cora said. “One who won’t try to kill him.”

Gerit exhaled through his nose, a sound that was almost a laugh.

Innis didn’t laugh. She remembered the prince’s armsman raising his sword, murderous determination on his face.

“He needs an armsman who’s a mage,” Dareus said. “And that’s what we’ll give him.”

“One of us?” Ebril said. “But you heard what he said. He’ll kill—”

Dareus shook his head. “We’ll give him someone he doesn’t know is a mage.”

“But he’s seen us all,” Petrus protested.

“We’ll give him a shapeshifter.”

Ebril whistled between his teeth. “Take the shape of another human? That’s forbidden.”

“We’re Sentinel mages. We can do whatever needs doing.” Gerit leaned forward, his gaze on Dareus. The shadows accentuated the bristling eyebrows, the bristling beard. “But what I want to know is whether this prince is worth breaking a Primary Law for.”

“For the sake of so many lives? Yes.”

Gerit shrugged and sat back.

“Who’ll do it?” Petrus asked. “Me or—”

“Innis,” Dareus said. “She’s the only one who can hold a shift long enough.”

Innis’s mouth fell open. Me? But the word remained unuttered on her tongue. All she could do was stare at Dareus. What he suggested was doubly forbidden: to take the form of another person; to change gender.

“She’s too young for something that demanding!” Petrus said. “She’s not yet twenty.”

“Innis’s strength as a shapeshifter is why she was chosen to join us,” Dareus said. “Her age isn’t an issue.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Petrus persisted. “She’ll lose her sense of self. She could go mad!”

“You and Gerit and Ebril can relieve her for a few hours each day,” Dareus said. “So she may be herself.” He looked across the campfire at her. “Innis?”

Innis wanted to say no. Petrus was right—it was a dangerous undertaking. She’d be living as another person. It would be easy to lose herself and go mad.

She looked down at her hands. She’d sworn the oath of a Sentinel: to protect the innocent, to place the welfare of others ahead of her own. Tens of thousands of lives depended on Prince Harkeld. He was the single most important person in the Seven Kingdoms.

“I’ll do it.”

As soon as the words were out, she wanted to take them back. Dismay surged inside her.

“Are you certain you can do it, girl?”

She looked at Gerit.

“I don’t question your ability to take male form, or to hold it—you’re the strongest shapeshifter I’ve ever seen. What I want to know is, can you act like a man?” Gerit pinned her with his gaze, his eyes dark pits beneath shaggy eyebrows. “An armsman would be assertive, girl. He’d be confident.” She heard the unspoken words: And you’re not.

“I have faith in Innis,” Dareus said.

Gerit ignored the comment. “Can you do it, girl?”

Could she? Innis glanced at Petrus. He was staring at her, a fierce frown on his face. He shook his head. Don’t do it.

Innis studied him. She’d trained alongside Petrus for years. She knew him inside out—how he talked, how he ate, how he cleared his throat and spat when he thought she wasn’t looking. I’ll pretend to be him. She’d mimic his maleness, his easy confidence. She turned to Gerit. “Yes, I can do it.”

“I hope you’re right, girl,” Gerit said. “Because if the prince suspects the truth, he’s likely to kill you.”

“He’ll never know,” Dareus said.

“But won’t he notice we’re a mage short?” Cora asked.

“Not if we’re careful. He’ll see Innis for a few hours each day; the rest of the time he’ll think she’s in animal form.” Dareus scratched his jaw, his brow furrowed in thought. “Tomorrow I’ll ride back to the port. Petrus, you come with me. The rest of you head for the mountains.”

“The port?” Gerit said. “Is that necessary?”

“The armsman will need his own horse and weapons, if he’s to be believable.”

Gerit grunted. “True.”

“Innis, let the prince see you as a hawk, then come after me.”

“And tonight?” Ebril asked. His red hair glinted in the firelight. “How do we guard the prince?”

“I could be a mouse,” Innis said. “Or a—”

“Too dangerous,” Gerit said. “The mood he’s in, he finds a mouse in his tent he’ll chop it into pieces.”

“Tonight we’ll guard from the outside,” Dareus said. He stood. Innis saw how tired he was. “Ebril, take the first watch. Gerit, the second.”

Innis stayed seated while the others rose, while bowls and mugs were collected. She stared at the fire, at the leaping flames, at the bark curling up, shriveling, blackening as the logs burned. Taking the form of a man isn’t something to fear. It’s a challenge. A chance to prove my advancement to Sentinel wasn’t a mistake.

“Innis?”

She glanced up. Petrus stood there.

He sat down alongside her, the log shifting slightly with his weight. “Are you certain you can do this? Because if you don’t want to—”

“I have to. This is why they made me a Sentinel. For tasks like this.” Fear tightened in her belly. “Petrus, will you watch me? You know me better than anyone else. You’ll see if...if I start—”

“I won’t let you go mad.” His voice held utter conviction. He reached out and took one of her hands. “You’re strong, Innis. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Innis smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re here.” He was her anchor, her friend, the closest thing she had to a brother.

“I’ll always be here.” Petrus’s grip tightened. He had a swordsman’s callused fingers. “You did well today, at the palace.”

The praise made her flush. Innis touched the log lightly with her other hand. Her parents were buried in the soil an ocean away, but the All-Mother connected them—wood, soil, water. Are you proud? she asked. I’m a Sentinel now, like you were.

Petrus stood, pulling her to her feet. “Come on sleepyhead, bed-time.” He turned her towards the tents, giving her a little push. “Go. Sleep. You’ll need all your strength tomorrow.”