Chapter Three
I wasn’t sure how long I stood staring at the darkened stones of the gateway. The image of Echo’s unlined face kept appearing in my mind’s eye. I was about her age when I first went to Petra for training.
Petra.
I’d never known my own parents; they’d died soon after I was born. Over my years of learning at the Cloister, Petra had become more than my Mother Superior. She was the closest thing I had to a living parent.
And now, she was murdering innocents so I’d take over ruling the Necromancers and fulfill the prophecy of the Martyr’s Comet.
What a catastrophe.
A small cloud of red dust spun on the nearby earth. Waves of ethereal warmth rolled up my limbs. I knew this magickal signature. My mate Rowan was transporting to join me. At last.
Rowan and I were true Caster mates, which meant we shared our magick. As a Necromancer, my power came from the remnants of life around me, such as bones and dried leaves. Meanwhile, Rowan was a senior Creation Caster. His magick was drawn from living things. During castings, my energy shone with blue light; Rowan’s glowed crimson. When we were in each other’s presence, we could mix our magick together into hybrid power. In those cases, our energy shone violet.
The nearby swirling mists changed. Crimson lights began dancing inside the haze. My heart soared. This was definitely a Caster spell. Seconds later, Rowan himself materialized beside me. He stood tall with his broad build, muscular limbs, and strong bone structure. Today he wore battle leathers and a concerned look in his green eyes. He immediately wrapped his heavy arms around me. “What’s wrong?”
I leaned into his touch and sympathy. How wonderful to have someone know me so well that, without saying a word, it was clear that I was struggling. I quickly explained what had happened with Echo and Petra. As I spoke, Rowan rubbed my back in soothing circles.
When I finished my tale, Rowan kissed the top of my head. “Shall I tell you a story?”
I pressed my cheek against his chest and grinned. Rowan was forever telling me Caster tales. One of my favorites concerned a raven. “Please do.”
“Once upon a time, there was a powerful king.”
“Was he handsome?”
“We’ll get to that part.” Rowan chuckled, and his rumbling laugh reverberated through my entire body. Already, I was feeling better.
“I can’t wait,” I said.
“This king was supposed to meet his lovely mate for a somewhat dangerous enterprise involving isolated gateways and spying on the gods.”
“The mate in your story sounds rather marvelous.”
“Exceedingly so.” Although I couldn’t see his face, I could easily picture the happy look that now danced in Rowan’s green eyes. “Back to my story. This king was due to use his magick and transport himself to his wonderful mate when some gray-haired ladies knocked on the main gates to the castle.”
“How fearsome.” I mock-shivered.
“Just you wait. These wise ladies informed the king that the community had decided to hold an elder festival.”
I rolled my eyes. “You Casters and your parties.”
All of Rowan’s people loved to celebrate. And since Rowan was the Caster king—what they called their Genesis Rex—he always made a point to fully enjoy the fun.
“Normally, that is the case,” said Rowan. “But elder festivals are a little different sort of celebration. The great king had to make toasts in the honor of more than a hundred elderly ladies.”
I leaned back and looked up into Rowan’s face. “And why do I get the feeling that you—I mean, that the king in this story—didn’t enjoy that?”
A sneaky gleam shone in Rowan’s eyes; that meant he was getting to the good part of his tale. “Elder toasts involve a senior lady asking the king to raise a mug in their honor. The toast is then followed by a chaste kiss on the cheek. Or, at least it’s supposed to be chaste.” Rowan lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Some of the ladies got carried away.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Rowan always knew how to break my sad moods. “So that’s the moral of your story: you were late tonight because there was too much royal smooching to be done?”
“And some of my subjects have rather bad breath.”
Now, I outright laughed. “When I become Caster queen, will I be asked to perform the same service for the elder Caster men?”
Rowan gave me an overly serious look. “I’m afraid so.”
“In that case, I refuse to take the crown.” An edge crept into my voice that I hadn’t meant to put there. “You can’t force me. Don’t even try.”
Rowan cupped my face in his hands. “Never. No one would ever strong-arm you into take the Caster crown, not like…” His unspoken words hung in the air.
Not like Petra, forcing me to become Tsarina.
Thinking of Petra shattered my good mood. There were questions to be answered, and the Martyr’s Comet would only last for three days. I stepped away from Rowan’s hold and scanned the skies. A crimson streak now glowed by the horizon. “The Martyr’s Comet is here.” Saying that aloud made my spying mission suddenly seem a waste of time. “The wards are now lowered on the arches. Maybe we should just experiment with hybrid magick. See if we can heal the gateways on our own.”
“We asked the Seers about that. Cast a dozen vision spells. You know what they all said.”
“I do.” For some reason, the Sire and Lady were reluctant to hurt or imprison me. However, that would all change if I used hybrid magick directly onto the gateways. We’d be locked up or dead in a heartbeat. It seemed strange but then, who understood the mind of the gods?
“Your plan is a solid one, Elea. Our best hope is to cast a spying spell and see what we can discover. After that, well…You know we have one more option.”
“Tossing Viktor’s body into the gateway?”
Rowan grinned. “You know that is my first choice.”
“Mine as well.” Sadly, none of the Seers or experts thought that would come to pass. There were simply too many variables: freeing Viktor and then getting him to the right spot at the correct moment. Oh, and then there was the matter of my conscience; I wouldn’t murder someone unless they attacked. No, hybrid magick was a far better route. Which brought us back to finding information.
And indeed, Rowan had another option on that score.
The Martyr’s Comet not only lessened the wards on gateways, it also made it easier for mages to travel between them. There was one world in particular that held some alternative deities who might help.
The world of the trickster gods. I shivered. That was one place I’d no desire to visit.
“In that case, let’s hope our spying mission works.” I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “I’m ready to begin.”
“I have every faith in you.” Rowan kissed my forehead. “You will do this, Elea.”
My mate seemed to believe my façade of fearlessness, but inside? I kept picturing what had happened to Echo—how her body was torn apart by the wards protecting this very gateway.
It was never a good idea to spy on the gods as a rule.
Perhaps this would be the time my law-breaking tendencies caught up with me.