A delicious mouth? I needed to stop thinking this way about Rowan and quickly. Straightening my spine, I gave him a proper greeting, the way any Creation Caster would. “Hail and well met.”
“I should say so.” Rowan scanned the corpses. “Excellent work with the Band of Eight, by they way. Those are some of the most fearsome thieves around.”
“Band of Eight? I only ran across five of them.”
Rowan’s smile broadened. “I might have helped a bit. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
A warm feeling spread through my chest. Rowan watches over me. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know.” He nodded toward Bartley. “How long before he wakes up?”
“An hour.”
Rowan offered me his hand. “Come down and walk with me. We need to talk.”
Panic tightened up my spine. Touching Rowan was a bad idea. It always made me lose focus. “I’m fine up here.”
“If you insist.” Rowan raised his right hand, closed his eyes, and began an incantation. This man was the most powerful mage I’d ever seen. While Necromancers like me pulled their energy from the remains of the past, Casters like Rowan pulled in living power to make magickal animals.
A red mist hovered around the ground at Rowan’s feet. Within seconds, the haze solidified into a massive black horse with a red saddle. That could only mean one thing.
Rowan plans to ride alongside me. The thought made me giddy.
“Nicely done,” I said. “But where are your snow tigers?” Normally, Rowan rode either Radi or Umeme.
“I’m trying to keep a low profile.” He winked. “You should try it sometime.” He effortlessly hoisted himself onto the horse’s back.
“What do you mean?” I had a fairly good idea, though.
“Your spells. I saw flashes of ethereal light from a league away.”
I shrugged. “A girl has to cast sometimes. It may have been bright, but the power levels were low and at close range. No Fantomes would have detected anything.”
His full mouth thinned to a determined line. “I still don’t like it. The Fantomes are dangerous.”
“I’m aware.” At one time, the Fantomes had been the personal entourage of the Tsar. Now, they followed the Vicomte. For months, these mages had been scouring the continent and arresting anyone with Necromancer ability.
Mostly, they wanted to find me.
Officially, the Vicomte announced that he desired an audience with the brave Necromancer who sent the Tsar off into exile. I didn’t believe that nonsense for a second. What the Vicomte really wanted was another Necromancer to drain.
No, thank you.
“Be careful, Elea. That’s all I ask.”
I gave him a sly grin of my own. “I suppose I’m not an expert at sneaking about, unlike some people.”
“No, you’re not.” Rowan’s gaze suddenly locked with mine. Once again, I felt pulled in by the intensity of his stare. “I like that about you. Quite a lot, as a matter of fact.”
By the Sire. His words were making me feel all squirmy inside. I needed to change the subject.
“I’m off for Jaxminster.”
“Still looking for a Lady Amelia?”
“Yes, unfortunately. The one in Jaxminster is my thirteenth attempt.”
He let out a low whistle. “And what happened with the other twelve?”
“All dead ends.” I wanted to scream with frustration. “The next one on my list is the Lady Amelia Masson. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Not at all.” Rowan’s face became unreadable. I hated it when he did that. And since Rowan was a master spy for the Creation Casters, he did it quite a lot.
“Why are you really here, Rowan?”
He arched his right brow. “What if I said I missed you?”
“Liar. You’re as single-minded about protecting your people as I am about rescuing mine.”
“True. Even so, I still missed you.”
I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “In other words, you’ll tell me what you want when you’re good and ready.”
Rowan chuckled. “How do you read me so well?”
“Call it my gift.” We followed a turn in the road. “How has your work been going?” Rowan also sought news of the missing Necromancers, but for a different reason. He feared the Vicomte gathering up their magick. If anyone wielded that much power, then they could attack Rowan’s people. As a result, while I’d been hunting down Lady Amelias, Rowan was working on a diplomatic course between the Vicomte and the Caster’s King, Genesis Rex. “Any luck so far?”
“We’re seeing some initial success with diplomacy. Luncheons, balls, dinners. No word yet about the Vicomte’s plans for the Casters.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“We’ve made allies with a few of the Royals, which is good. A handful are quite unhappy with the Vicomte. One in particular might be useful.”
“Anyone I should know about?”
“Not at this time.” His face became stony once more.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Playing the spy.”
“You know I’d tell you if I could, Elea.” He gave me another one of his intense stares. “My first duty is to the throne.”