She secured her carefully selected belongings into a travel bag.
A tap came at the door.
“Enter!”
The maid peered inside with wide eyes, a bundle clasped to her chest. “H… Here is your son, my lady.”
“Place him here.” Nyanda waved a hand to indicate the worktable.
“There, my lady?”
“Do you not understand my words, woman?”
A quivering, flighty little thing, the maid drew closer, one tiny step at a time, toward a table more likely to contain the entrails of a dead—or dying—animal than a small child.
“Oh, for the love of the ancestors. Give him here.” Nyanda snatched the baby from the cowering woman’s arms. “Take your leave.”
The woman bustled away. Nyanda listened.Tap, tap, tap,went the maid’s footsteps. No one must discover the whereabouts of Nyanda’s secondary plan. Making an entire castle forget her child’s existence took too much time. A wave of her hand, a word, and the footsteps ended with a satisfying scream, thud, then silence. Nyanda smiled with grim determination.
Cunning, she had. Time? Not so much.
Clutching her infant son to her chest with one hand, her travel case in the other, she stood before the ornate floor-to-ceiling mirror. Mirrors weren’t required for portals, but they sped the process, and she’d no time to lose. She chose the easiest destination to access in a hurry, placed the case on the floor, and swept her hand in a series of circles. Nothing! Forming another pattern, she tried again. No portal opened behind the glass.
Damnation! No escape. What to do, what to do?
Something she hoped she’d never have to—desperate times. One side of her mouth curved upward. Her enemies underestimated her again. But she must work fast.
She placed her child on the worktable.
A golden box on a high shelf yielded a handful of stones. Diamond? No. Too hard. Ruby? Too powerful in its own right to accept her will. Sapphire? Garnet? Ah, blue topaz. Perfect. Not too precious, but worthy of its purpose. She placed a gem the size of her thumbnail on her workstation, lighting incense with a moment’s thought to increase her focus.
“Son of a king, with magic born, now magic borne, this is my gift. Fulfill my desires, son of a king, king of all lands.”
The gem glowed with inner fire. She pushed as much of her magic as she dared into the polished stone. Too much might expose her ruse. The invaders expected the sorceress Nyanda, not a weakling novice.
She unwrapped her son’s swaddling, staring down at eyes so much like her own, the light blue of winter ice, or the topaz. Deep blue highlights already formed in the wisps of his dark brown hair. “There you are, my king’s son.” The smile on her lips wouldn’t be called maternal. As with her spells, this child served a purpose, else she wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of giving birth.
The babe lay naked on the table, kicking chubby legs, displaying toothless gums in a grin. Nyanda nearly turned away. Her heart softened for a moment, a sob threatening to escape her mouth. Once, she’d fantasized about a mate and children. The frivolous dreams of a foolish girl, stripped away by harsh reality.
Affection? No.
The poor, hungry country girl relinquished childish daydreams long ago. Nyanda survived. She hardened her heart once more. The realm’s most powerful sorceress couldn’t afford affection. Let hearts guide lesser beings.
Placing the topaz on the child’s chest, she swayed, repeating her spell, “Son of a king, with magic born, now magic borne, this is my gift. Fulfill my desires, son of a king, king of all lands.” Words weren’t necessary at her level of power; she found them comforting all the same.
The stone sank into delicate skin. The child screamed, thrashing about on the table. Nyanda held him down, watching the stone slowly disappear until completely hidden in flesh.
The cries turned to whimpers, the child’s bottom lip trembling. Fat tears rolled down the sides of his face. Nyanda carefully rewrapped her son.
By the ancestors, the child’s magical capacity already grew, and he’d yet to see his first winter. When her gift came to fruition, he’d possess unspeakable power. Oh, to see those days herself, the terror he’d wreak on the world. Kings would bow at his feet.
He’d show no mercy.
Once he’d set her plans into motion…
She lifted a silver wristband, inlaid with runes, and incanted, “Until the time comes, you shall be hidden; none can discern the truth of you, a mere mortal until your time is due.”
Clash!The clang of swords grew closer, echoing up the stone stairway near her rooms. No! Not yet. A woman screamed. A warrior’s cry ended abruptly.