Mage Confusion (Book 1)

  Back Cover

  A Fantasy Novel by Virginia G. McMorrow

  This first book of The Crownmage Trilogy introduces the very real and compelling mage heroine, Alexandra Daine Keltie. Gifted with magic powers, Alex must decide whether or not to use her long-denied, frightening abilities to save her best friend’s throne from rebellious and traitorous sorcerers. In Alex’s world, mages can control one and only one of the four basic elements—water, air, fire, or earth—but Alex is different. She can control all four elements but also transform one element into another! Slowly facing her fears of what her power can do, as well as the threat of confronting an experienced adversary, Alex rises to the challenge. Through her ordeal, she shares with readers a strong though turbulent commitment to family, an unyielding loyalty to friends, and the courage to fulfill her destiny–and, above all, an ability to be honest with herself.

  To Kevin, for unending support and love

  Mage Confusion

  Book One in

  The Crownmage Trilogy

  Virginia G. McMorrow

  MuseItUp Publishing

  www.museituppublishing.com

  Chapter One

  My first mistake was to let the flameblasted idiots standing outside my cottage door know I was awake.

  “Stop knocking!”

  Muttering, I scrambled in the dark for a match and a lamp, snagged my bare foot in the heavy wool blankets, and tumbled onto the icy floor.

  The knocking increased in volume.

  “I heard you. I'm not deaf or dead, though you'll wish you were both if the racket doesn’t stop.”

  I groped for the match and lit the lamp with another curse as I shook my foot free. Fumbling for the rumpled tunic and trousers I threw aside hours ago, I tugged them on, picked up a boot, and discarded it in disgust.

  “Stop knocking!”

  They did, the very moment my other boot smacked against the wooden door with an echoing thud. Hastily running fingers through tangled, long dark curls, I rubbed bleary eyes and shivered.

  “Who's out there?”

  Cautiously prying the door open a crack, I waited for an answer as a pale sliver of moonlight traced a delicate line across the ground. I may have been half asleep and dreaming, but I wasn't stupid.

  Silence. Then, finally, a low sigh, aggravatingly familiar. “Alex, it's me.”

  My second mistake was to let the flameblasted idiots come in.

  Me. Jules. At this uncivilized hour and with barely restrained amusement in his tone. Damn idiot. I flung the door wide open, slamming it against the wall so hard a dish rattled behind me somewhere in the pantry.

  “Do you know what time it is?” I planted one hand firmly on my hip, in case he missed the point. “Do you?”

  “All too well.” As he yawned, moonlight illuminated light brown hair, catching the glint of mischievous humor in sleepy green eyes.

  “Then what…” I caught his subtle glance and ever so slightly cocked eyebrow to the deep shadows at his side. “You'd better make your dying peace with the lords of the sea if you've shown up in the middle of the night with another potential husband for me.”

  Something, or someone, moved in the darkest part of the shadows and laughed in a rich tone I hadn't heard here in Port Alain in a very long time. Far too long. “Still as cranky as a beached whale on a stifling summer's day.”

  “Elena?”

  A dark-clad, slender figure crept from the gloom to stand blinking in the meager light from my lamp. “May we come in? Please? Or must I trudge up to the Hill and wake Jules' family for a warm fire and comfortable seat?”

  Utterly caught off guard, I inched back to give them enough room to come inside. Shivering again, though from more than just the frigid floor beneath my bare toes, I knelt, head bowed, keeping sight of Elena from the corner of my eye.

  “Majesty.”

  “You're not serious?” Throwing her woolen hood back, Elena Dunneal turned dark blue eyes to Jules with a sharp look of disgust. “She's not serious?”

  Lords of the sea, but I was. How could I not be?

  “Alexandra Daine Keltie at your service,” I murmured, bewildered at Elena's unexpected appearance after long months of uneasy silence.

  “Alex. I'm tired, cold, and far more thirsty than anything else. I brought a peace offering for waking you so rudely in the middle of the night.” She thrust a bottle of Marain Valley wine under my nose, forcing me to look up.

  “Well, all right then.” I grinned as Jules yanked me to my feet. Hugging Elena close, I stepped back to study her delicate features. It'd been almost a year since she came south to Port Alain. Elena was in highs spirits then, happy to escape the stifling politics of the fortress in Ardenna, the heart of Tuldamoran. At least until swift change overtook her peaceful, happy life. Four months past, Elena was thrust onto the throne. Shocked at the sudden death of her father, the king, there'd been no time for private words, and she'd withdrawn from every one of us.

  Except Jules.

  Which was something Jules’ wife tried very hard and very often to put in perspective—not always successfully. I didn’t blame Lauryn for the failure. I blamed Jules.

  Framed by long, thick black hair, Elena’s face was strained, exhausted, and royally annoyed. “I won't have you doing that,” she said quietly.

  “Waking up grumpy at such an uncivilized hour? Can you blame me?” I led her away from the door into the small parlor.

  Cozy and very much suited to my needs, the cottage was my home, though it didn't have to be. Rosanna, Jules' mother, respected my beastly need for privacy and solitude. But it bothered the old seawitch because she knew all too well what kept me away.

  Elena waved a slender hand to catch my attention. “Kneeling and bowing and all that submissive nonsense. I get enough of it in Ardenna, and very little is meant with respect.”

  “You thought I was being respectful? Good, then I can still fool you. Anyway, you are my queen.” I arched a brow at her. “Or have you decided to run away and leave the crown to little Brendan?”

  “Little?” An unroyal snort followed. “Do you mind if I sit?” She yawned, looking very much like the old Elena who ran barefoot with the rest of Rosanna's hooligans. “I really am tired.”

  “Do queens need permission? Or are you just being polite for old times' sake?”

  Elena sent a poisonous look my way before glancing curiously around the cluttered room, and then past Jules to my small bedchamber, tucked away at the back of the cottage.

  “Did we interrupt anything?”

  “Would it matter?”

  “I'd be far more apologetic.”

  “And curious,” I added dryly. “Here.” I gestured her in the direction of a low armchair, carefully setting a well-thumbed pile of books on the floor. “Jules, is it beneath your pompous dignity as Duke Barlow of Port Alain to build up the fire while I open this bottle of wine?”

  “Not if I do it for an old, cranky friend.” He scampered well out of reach, not an easy trick in my cozy, cramped cottage.

  “Old?”

  “You are a bit older than me.” He tossed his light woolen cloak onto the pile of books, toppling them over. “Sorry.”

  “Liar.” I smacked his hands away from my precious books and pushed him in the direction of the cold fireplace. “Two months only in age, but twenty years' worth in intelligence.” Rummaging around the pantry, I found the sharp, thin blade I kept for such important tasks. Gripping the bottle, I neatly plucked the cork free and sighed as I caught a whiff of the rich aroma.

  “Must I share this?”

  “I'm afraid so.” Elena flung her own cloak on top of Jules', creating a mound at her feet. “I've been dreaming of it all the way from
Ardenna.” Accepting the glass I offered, she raised it with a calculating grin. “To my older friends.”

  Jules lifted his glass, as I did mine. Smooth as silk. Definitely worth being summoned out of a warm bed in the middle of the night.

  “So, Elena.” I plopped down by the now-blazing fire, resting comfortably against some old, faded pillows Rosanna embroidered for me. “Why are you here in the uncivilized middle of the night?” As she sent Jules a guarded look, I added, “Not that I'm unhappy to see you, of course.”

  And not that I hadn't missed her terribly.

  Dark blue eyes studied me, very cool and calculating; suddenly demanding in an unfamiliar way. “Jules is in a bit of trouble, which might include you.”

  She was flameblasted serious.

  Jules shrugged at my baffled expression. “Elena came to warn me.”

  “Couldn't she send a courier?”

  I thrust cold, bare feet toward the fire's warmth, wiggling my toes. What had I done? And to whom?

  “Alex. This is serious.” Elena kept her eyes fixed on mine.

  “I don't doubt it.”

  She stared at Jules for a long moment and then past him when it became obvious he wasn't going to explain the situation. No surprise. Jules always avoided confrontation unless it was to his distinct advantage or unless, as was usually the case, he was backed into a corner.

  “I don't know who to trust in Ardenna,” she admitted, after a strained, uneasy moment. She reached for the half-empty bottle. The Dunneal ring, gold crown set in a circle of sapphires, caught the fire's roaring blaze as she twirled the bottle in her hands. “With my father gone so suddenly,” her voice was hushed in the tense silence, “none of his counselors are ready to deal with me, despite all the preparations he made over the years to ensure a smooth succession. And with mother gone these past few years, he hadn't been quite himself.”

  I murmured something comforting, acknowledging her still raw grief which prompted a sad smile to her face.

  “The counselors are somewhat better now, after months of my hardheaded manipulation, but they don't truly see me as an adult. I'm surrounded by sweet-talking, deceitful, self-serving diplomats and retainers full of politics and full of themselves. And what they managed to sneak behind my father's back—”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “Then try and imagine the worst. They weren't ready for me, and I wasn’t ready for them.” She shook her head in disgust. “Besides,” she smiled shyly, “part of the reason I came tonight was to see Brendan.”

  “As though I'd mistreat your brother,” Jules complained. “You have very little faith in me.”

  “I miss him. I'm alone all too often.” Elena met my intent gaze with a flush of embarrassment. “And I've no one but myself to blame for hiding when you and everyone here wanted to help me. You don’t have to remind me, Alex.” Before I could add anything pointedly related to Jules, and the fact Lauryn had been fretting, Elena changed her tone, setting the bottle on the table beside the armchair. “But that's not why I'm here. There've been rumors Jules is under suspicion of treason against me. It’s so ridiculous, I shouldn’t even respond. But the Ardenna Crown Council of Mages wants him closely watched, and that means I have to take the rumor seriously. They're watching me, too, and trying to destroy the only solid link I have with the Tuldamoran duchies.”

  “Jules?”

  “Don’t be snide. Yes, Jules. You know how influential he is with the other dukes.”

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  “Alex—”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “The Crown Council of Mages doesn't like my politics any more than they liked my father's, which only adds to our mutual distrust. I can't help being suspicious…” She caught herself, and waved a hand in frustration.

  “About what?

  She shut her eyes for a moment. “I can't shake the feeling they had something to do with father's death, as well as mother's accident years ago. But it's something I don't think I'll ever be able to prove.”

  I glanced at Jules, who shrugged. “You never said anything.”

  “Nothing to tell,” he said quietly. “As Elena said, we’ve no proof.”

  “It’s not important now,” Elena intervened.

  “It may be if they’re looking to get rid of you.”

  “They think Brendan's easier to manipulate, if only for his youth, so, yes, maybe it’s true. There’ve been rumors Jules is plotting with some…” She glanced his way, and I couldn’t read their exchange. “Well, some interesting parties to get the Tuldamoran throne back into his family's possession.”

  I turned from watching Elena and stared at Jules, keeping my tone bland. “There's usually a thread of truth in any rumor. Guilty?”

  “Of course not,” he snapped in hurt annoyance, pushing light brown hair from his rugged good-natured face. “Why would I want to be bothered with that nuisance, anyway? Governing Port Alain is enough trouble.”

  “I was just looking after my queen's interest, and protecting you from your mother's wrath.”

  “Alex.”

  I ignored Elena. “Whom are you supposed to be conspiring with?”

  “The Meravan government, for one—”

  “Meravan? That's absurd,” I protested, recalling what I knew of the neighboring kingdom. “They're too desperate for our trade to keep their people fed and clothed. With their erratic seasons, they depend on us. We're their closest trading partner and, unless I've misunderstood your father's policies, Elena, we've never taken unfair advantage of them when any other country would.”

  Elena turned to Jules with a smug look. “Even when she's not in the schoolroom, she still sounds like a schoolmistress.” Before I could defend myself, she turned back to me, still smiling. “You're right. But the Crown Council of Mages seems to think Meravan's monarch is becoming greedier.”

  “Is that new?”

  “No. They've always tried to change our agreements and never openly admit they're fair. But they are fair.”

  “And the Meravan monarch knows what Elena thinks about the current trade agreements because she's reminded their ambassador several times,” Jules defended his queen.

  “Diplomatically, of course,” I slid in, earning a grin from Elena.

  “That won't stop the Crown Council from suggesting to Meravan perhaps a new face on the Tuldamoran throne might present an opportunity for more favorable trade. At some risk to our merchants, though the Council would never admit to it.” Jules shrugged in an offhanded fashion, though his eyes were grim. “Nor do they care.”

  “Absurd,” I muttered, tucking my bare feet beneath me and stretching for my glass, all but unforgivably forgotten. “All right, my queen, whom else are you plotting with?”

  Elena met my gaze without blinking, and I suddenly tensed. “That brings us to your part in all this.”

  “My part?” I asked slowly. “What? Am I guilty of infiltrating treasonous thoughts into the children's lessons?”

  “You're not exactly guilty of anything,” Elena hedged. “The Crown Council wants the local mage council here in Port Alain to keep a close eye on you.”

  “What in hell for?” I demanded, quite aware why they might have an interest in the local schoolmistress, whose long-dead mother had been a rogue seamage.

  “Good question.” Elena exchanged a furtive glance with Jules. “That brings us around to the other party tangled in this plot.”

  I crossed my arms to avoid pulling the words from her royal tongue.

  “The Crownmage.”

  I laughed outright in relief. “The Crownmage doesn't exist. Everybody knows that. So there, see how easy it is to prove our innocence.” Still chuckling, I put the glass back down, almost missing the dark look that flashed between my two friends. “Please don't tell me you believe in the Crownmage.”

  Elena leaned forward in earnest. “The Crownmage exists. The Council's convinced—”

  “That's even more absurd, Ele
na. I expected better from you,” I said in disgust. “The one political group you distrust the most believes in something probably conjured out of a child's bedtime tale, and you fall for it like a frightened infant.”

  “Alex—”

  “The Crownmage is a legend. The last one appeared five centuries ago, according to unverified records. If he really existed. There hasn't been one since. And,” I said firmly, “there won't be another.” I clenched my fists in irrational annoyance, trying to sound convinced, desperately trying to persuade them so we could chat about something less distressing.

  “How can you be so absolutely sure?” Elena asked; a dangerous, unsettling look in her dark blue eyes. “Your mother—”

  I scrambled to my feet, scattering pillows across the floor. “Leave my mother out of this nonsense.”

  “She was a seamage from Port Alain.”

  I quickly cut her off and grabbed the wine bottle. “Yes and her mother was a seamage. Neither of them left anything in their rather long-winded notes and studies that ever hinted at the possibility of another Crownmage. I know it doesn't prove anything,” I said defensively, as Elena's raised eyebrow spoke eloquently, “but something as important as a Crownmage would have to be discussed somewhere.”

  “Your mother kept records—”

  “Yes, she did, for all those renegade mages who refused anything to do with the mage councils. She was damn curious and had sources all over Tuldamoran who sent her information. I know, flameblast you, because I have it all. And I've read every last word,” I said, catching surprise in Elena’s blue eyes. “If there was a Crownmage to be found anywhere, my mother would have known the moment he took his first breath and cast his first spell.” I poured more wine all around until the bottle was empty, silently cursing my shaking hand. I gave it a mournful glance before tossing it aside.

  “And you?” Elena's voice was a trace too casual.

  I spun around to face her. “What about me?”

  Elena held my gaze without mercy or remorse. She'd learned a lot these last four months in the capital, and I wasn't sure I liked what I saw. “What kind of mage are you?”