“Three apologies in one day? That’s promising.” Then, before I could argue, he continued. “No, he was always kind, as warm as a father could be. My mother’s death changed him. It was a daeva assault, the same attack that killed Khalad and Kance’s mother.” Kalen smiled grimly. “It made us all blood brothers of a sort. Three months after they died, my father rebelled against the crown. He and the king had been on good terms till then. He was barely an adult when Vanor died and Telemaine assumed the throne, and he had never once expressed any desire to take power. He bade me good-bye one day and then went missing for months. The next time I saw him, he was in chains.
“The king felt sorry for me and took me in—first as Kance’s companion and then as his bodyguard. And when I learned I could channel runes, it almost felt like a blessing. It gave me purpose, a better chance to protect the royal family. The people’s hatred didn’t matter after that.”
“That’s not true at all!” I said hotly. “They don’t hate you. The soldiers have nothing but the highest regard for you, including Commander Lode! You are well liked, and I have never heard you spoken of with contempt. If there are those who refuse to acknowledge your loyalty, then—then they aren’t worth a second thought anyway!”
Kalen stared back at me, startled, and it occurred to me that in my zeal, I was leaning far too close to him, which he noticed as I did. A stray thought passed through my head: If he smiled as much as Kance, he could be just as appealing. I reared back, coloring, and tried to think of something offensive to say to make up for the ludicrousness of what I didn’t. “If—if they find your ugly face offensive though, then that’s a different matter entirely.”
It was obviously an untrue statement and a poor comeback at that, and he started laughing, which made it worse. He really is as good-looking as Prince Kance when he laughed. “I was trying to make you feel better. When had our situations become reversed?”
I racked my brain for a better repartee, but he bopped me lightly on my head before I could get anything out. “That is enough practice for today. I expect you to be well rested for tomorrow’s spar—even if I have little faith there will be much improvement.”
I glowered at him as he stood. He ignored my glare, more concerned with choosing his words carefully. “Kance and I are as close as two brothers can be. We have both known Princess Inessa since we were children, but he never told me if he thinks of her as someone more than a friend. I also know that he considers you one of his closest and most trusted confidantes. While he has never been one to voice his feelings aloud, I suspect his decision for a more personal approach in ruling the kingdom was motivated by his desire to see you safe. I don’t know if that helps.”
I had to smile. “Thank you, Kalen.”
“You’re welcome. It’s good to see Kance take his duties as the crown prince seriously, although I now have you to blame for the additional responsibilities he assigned me—including the training of someone who cannot be trained.”
“You’re horrible!” My protest was loud in the empty field, but he only laughed again and walked on.
“I knew of Tea’s infatuation with the prince from the moment we met,” Lord Kalen said quietly, watching as the asha moved down the rows of injured. “My knowledge of it has commanded every meeting, every conversation with her since. I suppose I was disposed to dislike her long before we had ever been properly introduced.”
The men no longer shrunk from the asha’s touch. When Lady Tea moved to assist them, they relaxed, submitting to her treatment. More people had been brought in, this time civilians who had been caught in the crossfire. They cried out at the sight of the aeshma, who made a strange rumbling noise and laid down on the ground with its head tucked between its paws, the picture of docility if not for the terrible spikes along its form.
“But why?” I asked. Throughout the asha’s telling of her own story, the Deathseeker had been silent, content to listen with few objections. Of his own life he had said very little, and save for his earlier proposal to his lover—to abandon this enterprise and flee—I knew little of his thoughts during this mad invasion. That he spoke to me now with little prompting was encouraging.
“The oracle told me so.” He smirked at the shock on my face. “Deathseekers are just as much spellbinders as asha, though we do not train in their refined arts. We are slaves to many of the customs of the Willows and also present ourselves to the oracle after ending our own novitiates. I was never one to believe in her myself.”
“But what did the oracle tell you?”
The bone witch stood and murmured something to Princess Yansheo, who still stared with terror at the aeshma. From the window, I could see smoke rising from the fields outside the city, a testament to the previous battle. Below us, the rest of the daeva were at attention. Bored, the taurvi and the savul yowled and nuzzled and swiped mischievously at each other like lion cubs at play. The nanghait stood proudly; to my horror, I see more visages creep out from underneath the sags and folds above its neck so it could scan more of the horizon. From above, I could hear the song of the azi as it circled the city.
“The oracle told me that she would kill the prince.”
I gasped.
He smiled again. “At least, that was what I thought. My first instinct was to reject her predictions. Magic and runes can be explained. But to my way of thinking, prophecy falls under the realm of con artists and charlatans. My duty was to protect the prince, and to my eyes, Tea was as much a threat as any other.”
“Her predictions were wrong then?” I asked.
A small child, too young to understand the danger, approached the aeshma. The spiked daeva turned and regarded the child thoughtfully. It sniffed the boy’s fingers and rumbled, a monstrous giggle. The child laughed along with it. His hand stroked at the furred face.
His mother turned and cried out in alarm. Immediately, the child abandoned its play, dashing back to her. The aeshma whined and drew its head down, bereft of companionship.
“No. The oracle was right. Only my interpretation of the words was inaccurate. The oracle bade me to be vigilant, for the next Dark asha to come to Kion would bring about the death of the person she loved. For many years, I assumed the prophetess referred to the prince.” He raised an eyebrow. “Funny, isn’t it, how that turned out?”
9
You would think after the exhaustion that came with Scrying, I would have been deterred from using it. Fox thought I was insane. “You can’t expect this will get better,” he said as I pored through the pages of the book.
“It barely fazes Aenah. I can train till I get to that point too.” If the Faceless thought I could become a powerful spellbinder, that was her one message I was willing to believe. “Here, listen to this.” I waved the book in my brother’s face. “It talks about a Veiling rune.”
“That makes as much sense to me as Drychtan.”
“If done right, it can stop anyone from accessing your thoughts and prevent them from using Compulsion on you.”
That got his attention. “What do you need for it?”
My fingers ran down the page, tracing the rune inscribed in dark red ink, trying to commit the complicated pattern to memory. “After the invocation, I am to formulate an image in my mind like a shield.”
“A shield?”
“Or a door, it says. Anything that best represents shutting yourself away from the rest of the world. I don’t know if it would affect any bonded familiars.”
“Can’t hurt to try. How long does this spell last?”
“For as long as you hold the shield in place. It requires some conscious effort at first, but the book says that with enough practice, you can learn to keep those defenses in place even when asleep.” I wove the rune in the air and found the image of a closed door worked better for me. I could sense Fox’s touch drifting over my mind, carefully testing for weaknesses. “I can’t sense anything from you,” he reported.
“Really?” I asked. In that moment, I lost my concentration, and his presence once more flowed easily into mine. “This is harder than it looks,” I complained.
“You think it’ll work on me?” Fox asked.