Except that it was accessible… if one could fly.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief. Finally, some semblance of a plan. Exhaustion hit her, and she blew out her bedside candles. Had it been her own worry driving her or the compulsion? Perhaps it didn’t matter. This one clue eased her mind enough. She lay down and drifted off to sleep.

2

A Way In, A Way Out

“You wanted to speak privately again—well, here we are. This is as private as it’s going to get.”

Aven had strolled around idly with Evana for some twenty or thirty minutes this morning, struggling to make conversation and analyzing the tension in her jaw, before she’d finally requested they retire to somewhere less public. Privacy had obviously been her aim all along, but had she seemed to think her façade was worth it. Perhaps she’d hoped the delay would make him uncomfortable. They had finally retired to her room, Fayton the head steward in tow.

The door was barely shut before she began. “I am afraid I must take my leave of you.”

Nervous tension shot through him. “Have I failed your tests already, milady? I’m sorry to hear that.” He gave her his most charming smile, and it did seem to have some effect, as she opened her mouth to say something else but stopped and only stared for a moment, looking conflicted.

“No… well, yes.” She seemed to wrestle with her thoughts for a moment more, then resolve herself to some decision. She set her face into a hard, deliberate glare. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

He cocked his head quizzically, even as his hearted start to pound. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Would you have married me without telling me?”

“Without telling you what?” He frowned, pretending to search for what she could possibly be talking about.

She folded her arms. “Do you really think me that much a fool?”

He shook his head. “You are no fool, Princess. Of that, I am sure. But I am fool enough to not understand your meaning—”

“You are a mage,” she spat at him. Her eyes darted to the head steward, then back to him.

Aven feigned shock, although he could feel himself failing. “Where would you get such an idea? What would possibly make you think such a thing?”

She swept toward him, skirt swirling, stabbing her finger inches from his face. “Do not mock my intelligence. I saw what you did. I saw. I am trained to look for such things.”

Should he keep up the lie—or give in? What did she mean, “trained”? “What are you…” he whispered. His hesitation was a choice. Their eyes locked, and they both knew she had discovered his secret.

“I saw the air come alive. I saw you move the fire to protect yourself during battle. And you’ve been avoiding me ever since. You knew right away that I had seen what you’d done. How you’ve kept this secret for this long is beyond me—it is as plain to me as the surprise on your face.”

Could he charm her into keeping his secret? Why did she seem so angry, as though she felt betrayed? How could she be so sure of herself? Her confidence made him wonder—how many of the servants knew and happily averted their eyes? Did more people already know than he thought?

“Evana,” he whispered, “please don’t feel deceived. I’ve known you for a single day. How could I trust you with my deepest secrets in such little time?” As he spoke softly, his face inches from hers, he took a risk and raised a hand to gently stroke her cheek.

For a moment, she watched his hand, a mixture of sadness and longing in her eyes—and then suddenly she broke herself away and stepped back. “So you do not deny it, then.”

“Well, I would not call myself a mage, as I know nothing about magic.”

She clenched her jaw, chin jutting upward.

“But I do have the gift, much as I might try to suppress it.”

“And your family—your people—allow this? A mage to someday be king?”

“Yes, of course. There are no laws against being a mage in Akaria.” Perhaps acting confidently would dispel the situation.

“I am well aware of this—a truly wild place, indeed.”

“Why are you so aware of this? And what did you mean, you are trained?” His turn for some answers.

“I told you, I must take my leave of you. Now.”

“Before even dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Answer me—what do you mean, you are trained?”

The intensity of the cold glare in her eyes was surprising, but the expression seemed at home on her face. He was finally seeing the real her, not the mask she wore for courts and dignitaries.

She strode closer to him again and whispered, “You live by your code? Well, I am also a knight, and we have our own code. We are sworn to rid the world of aberrations like you.”

He said nothing for a moment, and there was only the sound of their breaths.

“I kill mages like you. That is what the bow is for.”

“You’re a Knight of the Devoted,” said Fayton. “Is that what you are?”

She scowled at him. “Did a noble ask you to speak?”

“Answer him,” Aven demanded grimly.

“Yes, I am a Devoted Knight, and my code requires me to report back to my order. I must leave at once.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said gently, his last attempt at wooing her, if only to delay her actions. “We hardly got to know each other.”

“I know all I need to,” she replied. “Be glad your nobility protects you. For now. Or you’d already be dead.”

She turned and strode past him toward the door, cutting a regal profile as always.

“Why kill mages? Why any of this? You don’t have to—”

She stopped. “Yes, I do,” she whispered. “It is my life’s purpose to purge the world of deviants like you. You’re unnatural. An insult to the gods—one that I shall remedy. We will meet again.” And then, without looking back, she was gone, her black gown swinging broadly as she turned into the hallway.

“What do you need me to do, sir?” He spun to Fayton. His head steward regarded him calmly, no differently than he ever had. The man could have been asking his preference for coffee or brandy.