Book 1: The Missing Queen
Chapter 1
Desmond awoke with a start, his body tensing up. It took him a moment to figure out exactly what the problem was, his magic finding its way up to his brain.
He realized after a moment that it was a crash from his kitchen that had woken him. However, the presence that he sensed was not anything that would cause him harm. His dishes and food supply might be in danger, but he was not.
Running a hand over his face, he tried to pull the sleep from his eyes, glancing at the time piece. He was planning to get up now anyway; the alarm would beep after a moment or two. It was later than he normally got up, but he didn't have anywhere to be for another hour.
“Nathaniel,” he said as the door to his chambers whooshed open at his touch. “What are you doing?”
His former Tiro looked up at him, a piece of toast in his mouth.
“You're awake.”
Desmond raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe.
“You think I can't still sense when you are causing chaos? Eleven years of training you, Nathaniel. I promise that the bond is not broken yet.”
Nathaniel smirked as he searched for more bread, and Desmond decided it was a losing battle. Besides, he was meeting Mariah for breakfast anyway, so he didn't need food here.
He had trained Nathaniel for eleven years as his third Tiro, readying him as a full-fledged witch; the guardians of the galaxy. Magic was dangerous and destructive if not controlled and well trained, and those born with it often didn't survive it unless they were taken from their families and devoted their life to its control. Witches, who were taken to the academies around the galaxy and trained by Maestros, became warriors, guardians, peacemakers, and healers. They were well respected, strong, and completely devoted to keeping the galaxy safe.
It came at a price, of course. They rarely, if ever, saw their families again. They were not supposed to form attachments or have families of their own. They were completely devoted to their craft and their quests. When they were young, they were usually devoted to their Maestros. When they came of age, they were put through a series of rigorous tests that determined whether they could go off on their own and become a new generation of Maestros.
There were exceptions to every rule, of course. Tiros were supposed to be in the academy from the time they started walking, and they needed to be with a Maestro by the time they were thirteen if they wanted to be able to take the tests. Otherwise, they remained at school until eighteen and could work in a minor role. Any time after eighteen, they could take the tests and become a full-fledged witch.
Desmond knew that he and Nathaniel had broken almost every single one of those rules in their years together. It wasn't necessarily on purpose, because he didn't always believe in everything the Jurors dictated. But Nathaniel had been almost fourteen when Desmond finally took him on after a disastrous last Tiro. Nathaniel was stubborn, mouthy, and more interested in fun half the time. Desmond knew Nathaniel would never be the serious, quiet, thoughtful Witch that was expected. Nathaniel was twenty-four when he finally took the tests, passing with flying colors in everything except his attitude.
Now, nearly two years later, they remained at the academy. Nathaniel was teaching some of the classes, and Desmond sat on the Jurors part time, dealing with the intergalactic issues that came their way. Both of them were expected at some point soon to take on a Tiro. But after a bumpy eleven years, Nathaniel didn't seem quite ready to be self-sufficient
Desmond, despite being technically free of a Tiro, found it hard to find time for himself and Mariah – not that he publicly wished for it.
The first day Desmond saw Mariah was nearly thirty years ago. They had both been young witches on their first Tiros. They had locked eyes across the room, and Desmond knew that he was in trouble.
Neither of them had broken any rules, at least in public. But as they started to age toward retirement with a quiet life of advising only in their near future, he found it harder to make sure they were in line and not just existing in a grey area that the Jurors raised their eyebrows at.
He knew Nathaniel was aware of the fine line he walked and took it as challenge. No matter how much Desmond tried and scolded, Nathaniel had always had eyes for women. He wasn't discreet either, and more than once, he had been called in front of the Jurors for disobedience.
Desmond's only solace was that, as Nathaniel got older, he seemed to be settling down and focusing his attention on the one woman he came back to again, and again. A quest on Jeffro – a border planet – had introduced the fifteen-year-old Nathaniel to the seventeen-year-old orphaned ruler, Queen Eliza. She was just as head strong, stubborn, and in control of her emotions as he was. Desmond pretended to not hear the late-night hologram fights they had over the years, and pretended not to hear Nathaniel's thoughts when they were doing well. As long as he was focused on his duties, Desmond could turn a blind eye. And, he noticed, no matter how hard they fought, they always returned to each other. They fought in a way that acknowledged that ending their relationship was never an option.
It was admirable, in a way, except neither of them were supposed to be even thinking of romantic love.
This life was not an easy one, but it was worth it for the greater good. Despite being two of the most powerful warrior witches in the galaxy, they were still only human.
“Are you going to the showcase today?” Nathaniel asked. “I saw them setting up this morning.”
“I might,” Desmond answered, watching Nathaniel eat his way through half a loaf of bread. The showcases were bi-annual and meant to show off the skills of young witches who were hoping to find Maestros. They came from the various academies to go the headquarters, and it was usually impressive. Desmond wasn't quite sure he was interested in taking another one, though. If he was truthful, Nathaniel had been difficult at best. Desmond would technically age out before another Tiro came of age. He and Mariah had loose plans to not take another one, retiring together. Not that he could tell anyone of that, he knew.
Right now, his biggest concern was getting Nathaniel out of his kitchen. “Is there something wrong with the cafeteria? Or your own kitchen, perhaps? Your room is down the hall, Nathaniel. Surely your own kitchen is closer.”
“I have to teach in ten minutes,” Nathaniel protested. “There's no time to wait in the cafeteria or make my own food. You always have something ready.”
“In case I need to grab something swiftly,” Desmond replied. “I don't usually keep you in mind.”
“I love how prepared you are, Maestro,” Nathaniel grinned. “I didn't have time last night.”
“Why? You finished class at seven p.m.” Desmond raised an eyebrow. “What did you do with your evening?”
“Eliza called,” Nathaniel admitted. “It was a long call.”
“I'm sure it was,” Desmond said. “Go to class. If the professor is late, it says something.”
“See you.” Nathaniel finally finished chewing and took off, leaving Desmond to shake his head. Nathaniel's appetite had not changed since he was fifteen, nor had his energy or his attitude. It was amazing how different they were. Nathaniel's dream was to be on the Jurors, where Desmond couldn't think of a more boring way to live life. Although Nathaniel was successful and well respected, Desmond sometimes wondered where he went wrong as a Maestro.
He tied up the bread bag, putting the dishes in the sink before going to get dressed. He always got Mariah from her room if they were having a meal together, as the hallways were crowded. Mariah had been blinded nearly ten years ago, and although she was very proficient with her magic, using it to see rather than her eyes, he still worried about her. Her last Tiro, Nathaniel's childhood best friend, had graduated early, and Mariah had been working within the safety of the academy ever since. Desmond worried every day she took a minor quest, even though he knew she was just as strong as the first day.
His com-link buzzed as he was finishing getting dressed, and he saw it was Thomas, one of the permanent members.
“I'm not expected for another two hours,” he answered, finishing the buttons on his old shirt.
“I know,” Thomas replied. “I'm not calling because I don't know how to tell time.”
“Good to know,” Desmond answered. “What can I do for you?”
“There was a ship coming from a border planet that had some terrible turbulence. It was full of showcases attendees, and some were injured. Can you stop by the med bay to sign off on their participation? The professor is insistent that they participate, and I'm not sure he's taking their physical state into account.”
“These off-world professors,” Desmond said, shaking his head. “They count their success on the amount of Tiros that get trained, regardless of consequence.”
“I'm aware,” Thomas said. “Will you do it?”
“In an hour,” Desmond replied. “I have plans currently.”
“Doing what?”
“I have plans,” Desmond repeated. “But I will be there.”
Thomas sighed. “Fine,” he answered, not willing to fight. “I'll see you later.”
“You will,” Desmond said, and hung up. He knew that walking the grey areas of magic often landed him with tasks like this, but it was a small price to pay to mostly do as he pleased.
Mariah was ready when he came to the door, looking beautiful despite a plain outfit. Her hair was pulled back, and he was used to the scarring around her eyes that had caused the blindness. Once bright red, the scars were now pure white, crisscrossing her eyes and causing his heart to ache whenever he saw her. She was still beautiful, but he hated that he had not been there to help her.
“Good morning,” Mariah said, knowing exactly where to look. “You're troubled today.”
He smiled, always impressed by how sensitive her magic was.
“It could have been Thomas calling to ask me something ridiculous,” he replied. “Or it could be that Nathaniel showed up and ate half of my fridge before dawn.”
“So, a normal day, then?” She smiled at him, closing the door behind them. He took her arm, the shivers going down her spine. The only good thing about her blindness was that they could now touch in public under the guise that he was guiding her.
“A normal day, lately,” he said, shaking his head. “Nathaniel has such pent-up energy since we've returned. When we were working, he could exhaust himself by the end of the day. We worked from dawn to dusk, and I usually didn't hear a peep from him after ten p.m. But here, just teaching during the day and having nothing to do in the evenings doesn't suit him. And yet he does nothing about it.”
“Desmond,” Mariah said softly with the patience of a mother. Their Tiros were the closest thing to children they would have in a life they could only dream of having. “He's not ready to leave you.”
“He's taken the tests,” Desmond replied, “and he was physically ready to take them years ago. I know his self-sufficiency is still an area he struggles with, but he will not last long here before he gets into trouble. There's already a pretty blond Maestro that I see him eyeing.”
“Are we ones to talk?” Mariah asked, and he sighed.
“He's not discreet, Mariah.”
“At that age,” she said softly, “I'm not sure we had learned how to be, either.”