There were downsides to working with people who didn’t mind being martyrs. None of them seemed to fully understand that it was one thing to work bits of magic to steal jewels and documents; it was another to challenge the king’s wizards. The task was too formidable.
And yet how could I refuse to help? I’d been a servant, powerless and at the mercy of those who owned me. Mage Wolfson had cared little about using me or destroying my life. Lessening the servant’s time bound to masters was worth the risk. And if I didn’t act, Alaric and Barnaby would join the renegades’ doomed army.
“I’ll do what I can,” I said. “It probably won’t be enough, and everyone involved will die.”
The group took that to mean a hearty consent and an assured victory.
As they made more plans, I thought about the five mages of the wizard council. In my mind, they all had Mage Wolfson’s face.
The sight of that face, even in memory, filled me with fear but also with a growing desire for revenge. If the king’s wizards were like him, and of course, they would be, I might enjoy taking their marks and leaving them to live normal, vulnerable—and in their own minds—pitiable lives.
CHAPTER 6
Four and a half years ago
One day,not long before my sixteenth birthday, Ronan finished his classes early and told me he wanted to go to the forest for a picnic. I thought nothing of it until we left the castle grounds and entered the trees that led to the forest. He glanced behind us furtively, took out a charm that was carved to resemble a wolf’s nose, and arced it around us. “No one followed us, at least not in human form.”
“Good.” I continued walking. I was used to the occasional odd precaution on his part. Although really, none of the other apprentices had mastered animal form. Was he worried Mage Wolfson or Mage Quintal would bother to spy on us?
In a couple of strides, Ronan caught up to me, the basket in his arms held close like it was a child. “Are you ready to receive a wizard’s mark?”
I halted so fast that my skirt swished about my shoes. “Yes! Of course, yes.” Yes, a hundred times to owning any sort of magic.
“Good. Because otherwise, you would’ve been very disappointed in the contents of our picnic.” He tapped the side of the basket. “These are mostly things for the incantation.”
“Truly, you can do this?” I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet, no longer able to stay still. My question wasn’t about his ability, but his intentions. I believed in his skill completely.
He handed me the picnic basket. “Hold this.”
I peeked under the lid. He hadn’t been jesting about the contents. Only a couple of rolls and chunks of cheese were inside. The rest of the space was taken up by vials with unknown liquid, candles, strips of cloth, a sharpened spoon, two twigs, and a few other odd trinkets.
He slipped his wolf-nose charm into the basket with the other things. “I’ll transform into a horse and carry you to a cottage by the seashore. That way I can be certain no one from the castle comes upon us. Take care not to spill anything.”
Before I’d shut the lid, a white stallion stood in front of me, patiently waiting for me to climb on his back.
I took hold of his mane gingerly. “You might have thought to bring a saddle.” Although I supposed that would’ve raised suspicions.
He eyed me, expectant. I pulled myself onto his back. Almost immediately, he began trotting, and when he decided I wouldn’t fall off, cantering. I clung to his mane, the basket wedged between me and his neck. At first, he stayed on a path, but after half an hour, he slowed and made his way through the trees.
I wondered how he knew what lay so far away from the castle. He must have flown this way as a bird. He could change into a peregrine falcon.
The trees gave way to a rocky coastline and we came upon a squat wooden building, more shack than cottage. It was weathered and windowless, probably built for fishermen to stayin between trips. No fire came from the chimney, and the place appeared altogether abandoned.
The horse paused in front of its door, waiting for me to dismount. I slid from his back and watched Ronan, curious what he would look like when he was not quite a horse and not quite a man. The horse reared up on two legs, the way fighting stallions do, and then Ronan stood in front of me, completely calm. He brushed bits of dirt from his sleeves and took the basket from me.
“Here we are, then.” He noted the sun’s position in the sky and used an unlocking charm on the door. “We need to finish before sunset.”
“The spell uses sunlight?” It was a common power source for such a rare spell.
“Among other things. I feel it’s fitting that giving a mark be done in sunlight.”
He felt? “Hasn’t this spell been performed before?” I’d assumed he’d discovered it like some of the other ancient ones he ferreted from yellowing, forgotten scrolls in the back of Docendum’s trove of magic texts.
He motioned me to follow him inside. “Not that I know of, but no need to fret. Incantations are like math equations. I’ve checked and rechecked this one to make sure it’s sound.” Ronan excelled at math in the same way he excelled at magic.
Inside the shack, a blackened fireplace took up most of the back wall. A bed with a sagging mattress was pushed up against one side of the room. Rickety chairs and a weathered table sat near the other wall. The place smelled of fish, salt air, and forgotten things.
Ronan left the door open for light.