Mage Resolution (Book 2) Page 13

  I set the glass on the table and turned away to stare out the window. Anders waited with kind patience until I could speak again, pretending not to notice my wet cheeks. Finally, I cleared my throat and faced him again.

  “You know that Sernyn didn’t tell her about himself, about his own repressed magic, but made her promise not to use her own magic when he was around. So my mother didn’t tell him a lot of things. She kept a very explicit journal of what she feared, Anders. And one of those fears was that she would make him unhappy, that he’d be upset because of her mage talent.” I took a deep breath. “When she was pregnant with me and not feeling well, she started to worry, thinking her magic was causing the trouble—”

  Anders reached over to stroke my cheek. “He’s suffered again and again and yet again if he’s read these notes. Let it go, Alex.”

  “I want to, but it’s so hard,” I whispered, swiping away the unwelcome tears sliding down my face.

  His fingers traced my cheek, and then my lips. “I know. But you have to try harder. You owe it to your mother.”

  I kissed his fingers. “That’s not fair.”

  “But it’s true.”

  “Obnoxious fool.”

  He sat back and grabbed the wine bottle, beaming at me. “That’s much better. Now, go on.”

  I bit his finger before he pulled away and held out my glass for a refill. “From what mother could piece together from Sernyn and Glynnswood legend, a Crownmage, eons ago, brought the Spreebridge people to the Glynnswood forest as an experiment. An experiment, can you believe it?” I fumed, trying to recall my mother’s words. “The Crownmage knew these people had some sort of different mage talent, like Gwynn, who can change only one element to another within limits, as he changed Erich’s sword into flame. That Crownmage convinced a group of his countrymen to move to Glynnswood, offering them only the lords of the sea know what, and proceeded to, well, experiment, I suppose.”

  Anders bit his lower lip. “How?”

  “He was a bit promiscuous.”

  “I see.”

  “Yes, well, nothing ever came of his attempts to merge bloodlines. All his women miscarried, except for one.” I took a long, soothing sip of Marain wine. Anders didn’t bite, but waited with apparent patience, though I knew he wanted to strangle me, until I reached for a chunk of cooling apple cinnamon bread.

  He snatched it from my hand. “Tell me.”

  “She died in childbirth, and the child went mad. No one could control the child, who used her talent wildly, hurting people until they drove her away. Conceivably, she may have survived in the wild forest and started her own bloodline. Perhaps,” I said, in all seriousness, “there’s a mad renegade descendant of that pathetic child running loose north of Bitterhill.”

  “Perhaps.” Anders studied me for a long intense moment. “Alex, you’re not telling me everything.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

  “You make it so easy.”

  “The child’s talent was precisely like mine.”

  He watched me, considering. “So, there’s probably Crownmage blood in your family somewhere. And maybe an insane version of you loose in the woods. But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

  “No.” I stared out the window again. “It frightens me to think what kind of mage child you and I could produce.”

  Anders knelt at my side, but I looked away. He tugged at a strand of curls. “I told you I’d never let you risk yourself.”

  “I know.”

  “Alex—” He placed a finger under my chin and forced me to meet his calm seagray eyes. “I meant it.” When I began to sniffle, he smiled. “If you start crying again, I’ll tell Rosanna how soft you’re getting.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Thank the lords of the sea.” He grinned in relief, giving me a hearty kiss. “I was afraid you didn’t love me anymore.”

  “Did you think I loved you at all?” I shoved him away and stood, biting back a groan at the ache in my back. “Let’s go tell the others.” I led him back to the parlor in the main house, where a small group of conspirators huddled together as though for comfort.

  “Come in, Alex. We were just discussing you.” Rosanna smiled, ignoring my pointed glare.

  When I stopped in the doorway, Anders bumped into me from behind, shoving me forward. “Did he really stay here all this time?” I stared in disbelief at Gwynn, stretched out in front of the fireplace, overstuffed pillows cradling his head.

  “You terrified the poor child,” Rosanna scolded, pushing her chair back from the small wooden table.

  “Poor child? You travel with him and see how much compassion you feel for the little wretch.” Sending her another glare, I caught Sernyn’s eye and dangled the small oak chest in front of him. “Did you read these notes?”

  “Alex.” Anders, still behind me, placed his hands on my shoulders and drummed his fingers in a rapid rhythm. “Don’t do this.”

  I shrugged his hands away. “Did you?”

  Sernyn looked past me and exchanged an unreadable look with Anders. “Yes. Several times.”

  “Recently?”

  Anders’s hands found their way back to my shoulders and pressed down hard.

  “Yes.” Sernyn answered my questions with impressive serenity, his eyes telling me without a doubt that he understood my point.

  Anders shoved me across the floor and forced me into an armchair.

  “How’s Kerrie?” I asked, finally managing to chase the beast away before sinking back against the huge well-worn pillows, more fatigued than I thought.

  Rosanna’s expression sobered. “There’s been no change. Jules sent other troops in the direction of the Bitteredge Mountains in case the rumors Sernyn heard were true. Alex, I’m so worried about them,” she admitted, letting down her guard.

  “Me, too. I think it’s possible we have a renegade mage on our hands. Maybe. I don’t know.” I caught back a yawn. “I wish Kerrie were coherent. I hate feeling helpless.”

  “I have sent scouts to investigate the rumors.” My father gave me a peculiar intense look. “If it is a renegade mage with your unconventional talent, then she would be Glynnswood’s responsibility.”

  “You know we’ll have to go after her.” Anders tugged at my sleeve from his perch on the chair beside me.

  I nodded, rubbing my eyes again. “All I want is an uninterrupted night’s sleep. But yes, you’re right. We have to go after her, but not with troops.” I wasn’t fast enough to catch another yawn. “I know Jules will argue, but they’ll only slow us down.”

  “I will not.”

  Slowly, I lowered my hands from my eyes and peered over my knuckles at Gwynn, leaning up on one elbow. “You will not what?”

  “Slow you down.” He tugged at the unruly lock of hair, slanting a guarded look at Anders, before turning those huge brown eyes in my direction.

  “Don’t you even think about it. Your father won’t allow it.”

  “Yes, he will,” Sernyn confirmed my worst fears. When I stared at him in disbelief, Sernyn returned my glare without blinking. “Gwynn has proven capable of taking care of himself. Besides, Alex, he is a mage. In fact, you told me so yourself.”

  Cheeky. I stood abruptly, clutching the oak chest to my body. “If anything happens to him—”

  “It will not be your fault.” Sernyn’s expression held immense caution, though his words were courageous.

  “Don’t you ever know when to stop?” I snarled.

  “I will not stop until you see the truth of my words.”

  No one dared to breathe, waiting for my rage to explode. With control that made me nearly breathless, I spun on my heels and left the chamber.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was clear from the ferocity of Rosanna’s digging and tugging at unwanted weeds in the cool autumn morning she was frantic with worry.

  “Want some help?” I took a seat on one of her strategically placed rocks.

  “Stay away fro
m my flowers,” she snapped, brandishing her spade like a knife, and meaning every bit of the threat.

  “Anders taught me the difference between a weed and a fern.”

  “He tried to teach you. I tried to teach you. Your mind goes blank when it comes to plants and trees and flowers. Stay away.” She waved the spade again before turning back to the stubborn weeds.

  I squinted against the bright morning sunlight. “I’ll bring them all home.”

  Rosanna’s frantic digging stopped as she sat back on her heels and sighed. “I keep thinking of how frightened they must be.”

  “Not Carey.”

  She laughed in appreciation. “You’re right. Not Carey. He’s probably planned a thousand ways to escape.” Rosanna turned away.

  “They’ll be all right.” She started attacking the ground again. “Rosanna—”

  “What’s happened to all of us?” She stopped moving. “Jules—”

  “Jules made a mistake. If he’s lucky, Elena will forgive him for trying to force something that was never there, and still be his friend. And Lauryn will forgive him for being a fool and still be his wife. If he’s lucky.” I frowned, running my hands through tangled curls. “However, I wouldn’t blame either Lauryn or Elena for not forgiving him.”

  “He told me you found him.” Quiet, watchful eyes studied me.

  “I’m surprised he admitted anything.”

  “He also told me about Elena and her trouble with you.” Rosanna sighed, looking beyond me. “She’ll get over it. Be patient. As for Jules—”

  Sidestepping her remark about Elena, as I’d sidestepped my friend’s hostility in my own heart, I said, “I found Jules for Lauryn’s sake, though maybe she’d rather I hadn’t. Maybe I should have left Jules hiding in the woods.” I toyed with a weed Rosanna had tossed aside.

  “Ah, yes. The woods.” Rosanna’s eyes flared with purpose. “Your father—”

  I shot upright, brushing dirt from my trousers. “I didn’t come here to discuss that liar.” When Rosanna acknowledged defeat with a loud, resigned sigh, I made my way back up the path to the upper floors of the manor, poking my head around the huge wooden door to Kerrie and Khrista’s bedchamber, where Lauryn was tending her brother-in-law. “How is he?”

  Lauryn waved me inside with a tired smile, shadows ringing her blue eyes. “He’s calmer. I think the fever’s finally breaking.”

  On tiptoe, I edged in and made myself comfortable on the window ledge by her side. Kerrie looked haggard, hair still damp from the fever, as he lay bundled under woolen blankets. “Has he said anything that’s made sense?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Lauryn stared at my leg as it swung slowly back and forth, and shrugged. When I touched her arm, she shook her head as though to clear her thoughts, and spoke about something unexpected. “Gwynn’s as bad as the twins.”

  “As misbehaved and troublesome? I could’ve told you that.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant. The boy adores you.”

  “Not for long if I don’t keep him away from Anders.”

  “He adores you just as much.”

  I laughed and prodded a teasing finger at her slender arm. “It’s not quite so obvious to me.”

  “Stop that.” Lauryn turned away. “He doesn’t love anyone else but you.” While I struggled for something comforting to say, Lauryn kept her face averted and busied herself smoothing the blankets over Kerrie, tucking him in needlessly. “Kerrie?” Her hands stopped moving, clutching the blanket.

  I stretched over to see what had caught her attention and found a pair of bright eyes watching me from under a pile of wool. The brightness of those clear eyes vanished as Kerrie shut his eyes tight.

  “Khrista.” He started to push back the blankets. “Khrista!”

  “Oh no.” I lurched to his side the same time Lauryn did, struggling to hold him back down.

  “The boys. Let me go.” Kerrie clenched his fists in frustration, finding strength to fight us. “I have to go—”

  “Stop it.” Lauryn’s soft voice had an edge that halted Kerrie’s frantic movements for a moment. “You’ll not help any of them if you go running off naked and weak into the woods. Do you hear me?”

  “Lauryn, please.” Kerrie shakily grabbed his sister-in-law’s hand, and then turned to me when he recognized her stubbornness.

  “You can help them best by telling me what you remember.”

  “I have to go after them.” Kerrie struggled, but long days of illness and exposure had taken their toll. “Don’t you see?”

  “Yes,” I agreed, keeping my tone reasonable, “but no one can go after them until you tell us what you remember. If you don’t tell us anything, you won’t go anywhere. I can promise you that.”

  Never angry with either of us, Kerrie’s face burned with fury, but not foolishness. He sank back, exhausted, against the overstuffed pillows, resigned for the moment to captivity. Lauryn stood waiting at the foot of the bed.

  “Lauryn?” I grabbed her sleeve. “Why don’t you get Kerrie something to eat?”

  Every inch of her slender body screamed defiance. “I have a right to know what Kerrie knows.” Crossing her arms, she gave me a cool sidelong glance and turned back to her brother-in-law. “Tell me.”

  Kerrie closed his eyes. “Outside of Bitterhill, we came upon a narrow stream. Alex,” —he gave me a peculiar look— “it was so bizarre. I didn’t think anyone else could do what you could do.”

  I took a deep breath. Maybe my mother’s notes were right. I nodded for him to go on without denying or confirming anything.

  “While we were waiting to cross, the stream became a wall of flame, frightening the horses. Hunter and Khrista were thrown when the horses bucked, but not hurt. I remember holding on to Carey, trying to control my own mount.” Kerrie paused for a breath and accepted some water. Stifling a cough, he fell back against the pillows. “I almost had my horse under control when the flames became a wall of stone. And then flames again. That was the last I saw before I heard a raspy voice behind me. Then something heavy cracked against the back of my head.”

  The apology in his eyes said it all. Weary, he shut his eyes tight again.

  Lauryn hadn’t moved from her position, fingers gripping the bedpost so tight her knuckles were white. “Go on.” She did, after all, have a right to hear it and know the truth.

  So did I. Especially if we were dealing with a mad renegade mage.

  Pale with illness and despair, Kerrie glanced at me. “That’s all I remember.”

  “Where were you taken?” Lauryn’s knuckles were stretched taut on the bedpost, her voice clipped.

  Didn’t she understand? Or didn’t she want to?

  “I wasn’t.” His voice was flat as his eyes stayed locked on mine. “Where did they find me?”

  “Wandering along the Bitterhill road. Feverish and incoherent.” I squeezed his hand as tears slid down his cheeks.

  “I don’t know where they are,” he whispered miserably, “but I have to find them.”

  “Anders and I will find them.”

  “It was my fault.”

  “Hush. You sound like me,” I scolded, recalling my father’s criticism with bitterness. “Anders and I will go. There’s a renegade mage loose near the Bitteredge Mountains, and you can’t do a thing to stop her. However,” —my grin was fierce— “we can, and we will.”

  “But Alex, please.” When I shook my head, he turned to Lauryn, and stretched out his other hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Damn it, Kerrie,” Lauryn scolded, blinking back her own tears. “You do sound like Alex. And listening to her is quite enough to drive anyone mad.”

  * * * *

  “Lauryn doesn’t want me here.”

  “And I don’t want you with me,” I snapped, losing the control I struggled to maintain from the moment Jules appeared in the manor’s main hallway. When he announced his intention, I wanted to strangle his skinny neck.


  Anders came behind me and held me close. “His children and his sister are in danger. He has a right to come with us.”

  I stared at Jules’s haggard face, green eyes defeated, and refused to banish the chill from my voice. “Then let him take his troops and go alone. I won’t travel with him. He may have a right to go, but I have a right to refuse his company.”

  Miserable, Jules glanced at Anders before facing me again. “Brendan arrived last night from Ardenna.”

  “With a private note from Elena? How touching.”

  Anders’s fingers gripped my shoulders as Jules’s face burned with shame. “Stop it. That particular thorn isn’t your concern.”

  “You’re right.” I shrugged off his restraining hands and spun around to face him. “My concern is to track down the renegade and get Khrista and the boys back in one piece. Are you coming with me?”

  Cool seagray eyes appraised me. “Of course.”

  “Without Jules.”

  His gaze darkened. “No, Alex.”

  I turned my back on him, betrayed. “Then I’ll go alone.”

  Jules reached out a hand to touch me, embarrassed as I stepped away in disgust. “Go on, then, Alex. I won’t have you go without Anders. I’ll stay behind in Port Alain.”

  I didn’t bother to answer or look back at Anders as I headed outside for the cottage path, nearly tripping as I stumbled into Gwynn and Sernyn Keltie, who caught me with gentle hands as he studied my face. “You are troubled.” When I shrugged free of his grip, he said, “Anders told me you were leaving at first light.”

  I nodded, taking careful note of Gwynn trying hard not to be noticed.

  “Please allow Gwynn to go with you.”

  “Why not just send him after me without permission? It wouldn’t be the first time you did what you wanted despite what I might have wanted.”

  Gwynn’s eyes went wide, appalled, and not yet comfortable with my erratic hostility toward his father. “Alex.”