Breaking Stars (Book 2) Read online

  Since she was a teen she had experienced bouts of weakness that grew steadily and more frequent, often mixed with pain. She had to rely on the strength of others to keep her on her feet. No one knew the truth, for she hid it too well, but she was far weaker on the inside than the out. She hid the pain with a sly smile and spent more time sitting than standing, rolling with the fatigue and pain. Spirit Mages had looked at her many times, but all they could discover were the unusual small size of her kidneys.

  She clutched his arm tighter and felt him lift her a little. If he suspected anything, he kept it to himself, keeping his eyes ahead and focused on the hall. Because she had no options, no chance of change, she battled through the symptoms and stayed on her feet. She would walk the hall with him, then return to her room without help and sit down. ‘A little fresh air in the window would help.’

  They came to the end of the hall, and she gave his arm a squeeze. “Nolen will send a girl tonight. We will try and cut her off before she arrives, once we learn who it is.”

  He nodded and slipped his arm from her grasp. His smile was thin and pinched, a look she understood as a resignation to his fate. She kept hold of his arm for more reasons than one.

  “Fight them,” she whispered. “Please do not give in.”

  “I’m trying,” he replied quietly, but his face said it was only a matter of time before his hope left him. She squeezed his arm again before letting go.

  Chapter 2

  The Mage’s dejected look pleased Nolen more than he let himself believe. He spied the Mage across Nuneel’s Grand Hall where the floors were open and railed revealing the levels below in imitation of Castle Jaden’s Lodge. The Mage was a floor below and had not seen him, so Nolen rushed to cut him off at the nearest staircase. A few people greeted Nolen, but more greeted the Mage, pausing to speak about the broken star and congratulate him. He spoke cordially and assured he had nothing to do with it, but when they turned away the same despairing look came upon his face. Even the slump of his shoulders and downturn of his head said he was nearly beaten.

  Nearly.

  Nolen strode on ahead quickly and took the stairs swiftly. The padded carpets hid the patter of his boots, so when he reached the floor, he nearly hit the Mage. They met eyes for a moment, but the Mage casted his to the ground. Nolen cuffed him anyway.

  “I will see you in my rooms,” Nolen told him and pointed up the stairs. “We have much to discuss.”

  The Mage did not bother raising a hand to the red slap on his face, instead keeping his hands in his pockets and his eyes down. He took to the stairs and followed Nolen one step behind. Nolen wore the control piece every waking hour, enjoying the coursing energy far more powerful than his own. He was told Spirit Mages were strong enough to feel the energies of people, and sometimes tell their mood, but he could not feel the Mage’s. Instead, he felt his own energy, and it had a certain excitement to it.

  Nolen threw open the door to his rooms and led the Mage to a chair before the warm hearth. As Gabriel leaned back to sit, Nolen grabbed his shoulders from behind and jerked him into the chair, making him verbally wince.

  “Be quiet,” Nolen snapped as the Mage readjusted his position. Nolen leaned forward and put his hands on the back of the chair, bringing his head down to the Mage’s right ear. “Did Axa treat you well?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. “She tells me things I am inclined to believe.” The Mage remained motionless, staring into the flames, hardly breathing.

  Nolen walked around to face him, wanting to see his expression when he revealed the news. The Mage stared into the flames, careful not to make eye contact again, and he folded his arms over his chest.

  “Have you read up on the Castrofax you wear?” he asked, but the Mage made no reply. “If you had, you would learn it was the most used. Have you wondered why?” The Mage shifted his eyes a little but did not raise them.

  Nolen paused a long while until the Mage closed his eyes and sighed, “Just tell me.”

  Nolen smirked, knowing he was getting to him. “You are no longer a river of energy—now you are a well and all wells run dry. The more I use your power, the less remains until there is nothing left—then you will die.”

  The Mage stared in to the flames, and through him Nolen could felt the excitement emanating from himself. Nolen rocked back on his heels and folded his arms, watching the blank expression on his captive’s face. Suddenly, the Mage raised his eyes and met Nolen’s, halting the rocking.

  “You should not look so smug. Without my power you are no more than a peon, and without me as a shield, you will have to suffer the judgment of the Head Mage.” His voice gained strength as he spoke. “Ryker will not be able to protect you.”

  “By the time you die, I will already be King, and no one can say no to me.”

  “The Head Mage answers to no man.” He rose to his feet, and Nolen felt suddenly short. The Mage’s eyes were wild. “By the time you are ready to take the throne, it won’t be your mother you’re fighting off, it will be Robyn Bolt, and if you so much as raise a finger to her, I swear to you I will slit my own throat to prevent you hurting her.”

  Nolen unfolded his arms and balled a fist, drawing it back to strike, but the Mage blocked the hit and pushed his arm aside. He grit his teeth and felt foolish in failing. “Do you know what an oubliette is?”

  “No.”

  Nolen refolded his arms to appear bigger. “It is a hole in the ground in which we throw prisoners to forget. We have several in the dungeons used in the darker times, but I will have one uncovered and throw your father in if you dare speak to me again this way.” For good measure he swung a fist to see if the Mage would resist, but after the hit to the jaw threw the Mage back into his chair, he knew his point had gotten through. His captive kept his blue eyes shut and a hand on his jaw, working it gently.

  “You seem to know a lot about my cousin Princess Robyn, and you said her name without her salutation, so I wager you know her very well.” The Mage made no attempt to raise his eyes. “Did you think me so stupid I would not realize it was her?”

  “Yes.”

  “That wasn’t a question!”

  The Mage feinted left when Nolen raised a hand. But the Mage was correct. He had not realized it was his cousin until she was already gone. Had he known, she would be dead. “Will she come for you?”

  “She’s safe in Jaden waiting for her birth anniversary.”

  “And when is that?”

  “Very, very soon.” He brought a hand away from his chin to see if it was bleeding, then put a finger on the tip of a tooth and wiggled. He made a sucking sound and spat into the fire. “You should start packing for flight.”

  “I will not run from a child with no power. Should you try to kill yourself to prevent my attack, I will see you restrained.”

  “That won’t stop me.” Nolen watched as the Mage put both hands flat on the armrests and closed his eyes to Nolen’s amazement and horror. Without moving his fingers, the Mage drew strings of blue from his chest and carefully looped them together without fueling the pattern. “I was always told to never lay a pattern with my mind, that it was forbidden because it is so dangerous, but I suppose danger is what we want now.” He opened his eyes and looked at the loops. “You do not know this pattern.”

  Nolen knew a few in each Element, enough to make him look impressive but not enough to hold off more than a dozen attackers.

  “This is a Lannon-seep-pattern, and were I to fuel it, it would pull all the moisture from my body. I warrant with Overturn, just fueling the pattern would dry my skin to a crisp and kill me.” He met Nolen’s eyes. “You have most of the tiles, but I have a few to my name still.”

  “Then you have too many,” Nolen hissed. “Get out.”

  The Mage did not pause to ask how much time he had left, and Nolen suspected it was because he already knew something was wrong with his energy. Instead he left without a word, slamming the door as he exited.

  Balien lied.
/>   The Prince stood in Nuneel’s Grand Hall on the fifth level where he could watch everything without being seen. His informants often left him notes in the loose pieces of scrollwork and knots in the balcony, but nothing of importance was tucked there today, so Balien stayed to watch the palace work. He had briefly glimpsed Gabriel, then Nolen, but lost them both. Knowing Gabriel would likely pass through the hall if he returned to his rooms, Balien waited to see his mood.

  Sure enough, Gabriel came striding from Nolen’s chambers with a furious, pinched look as he took the stairs to his landing.

  ‘I am sorry, brother, for so much I cannot express.’

  Balien hoped lying about his chastity would help Gabriel cope with the Arconians, but it had been a farce. Balien was a Prince, a noble of whom much was expected. Chastity was one such thing. He heard enough from his soldiers to know their thoughts and emotions on the matter, enough to fake his own, but he remained chaste. A tutor once told him that his duty was to protect his sister and her throne, and were he to impregnate a woman and were she to conceive a girl, his daughter would be next in line. He dared not. If Nolen discovered her, he would kill her, and it was a risk he could not bear. He had his eye on a few of the well-bred Arconian, but until his sister was seated and Nolen locked in a dark pit, it was not something he would broach.

  Gabriel passed through his vision as he crossed the hall and vanished behind the lip of the fourth floor. His stride was angry, but there was a stoop to his head Balien had grown used to. He reprimanded himself for accepting it as normal and clenched his teeth in defiance. ‘There is still fight left in you, brother, and I will do my best to see it brought out.’

  Gabriel’s rage ebbed away with every step he took from Nolen’s room, and slowly it was replaced with sorrow. He knew something was wrong with his energy, and like all things in his captive state, he denied its existence. But now that it was vocally confirmed with a true explanation, the weight of acceptance sank in his chest.

  The halls were void of souls on the route he took, and he was thankful. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he hung his head as he moved, slowing his pace. His hair fell over his forehead into his eyes, but he could not be bothered to shake it aside. He turned left down a corridor to his rooms but faltered mid-stride.

  A tall man stood in the middle of the hall facing him. He had a powerful build with strong legs, a broad chest, and stood with a proud air. His hair was as black as Gabriel’s, longer and pulled back in a tail with a few strands hanging loose around his forehead. He had a full, neatly trimmed beard. The panes of his tanned face were flat with a strong chin, brow and a bold nose, while his deeply-set eyes seemed to bore into Gabriel. A dark red coat swathed around him, expertly tailored and fitted to perfection. His boots hid under long black trousers that banded with a belt of woven gold, and his large hands perched on the edge of them as if he had been waiting a while.

  Gabriel was uncertain what action to take next. The man looked as proud as a ruler, and had Gabriel been forced to introduce him to a crowd, he certainly would have proclaimed him a king. In fact, it seemed strange that his brow was not graced with a circlet of gold, and his clothes were not adorned with embroidery and jewels. Was this man some new torment sent from Nolen?

  It took Gabriel a second to size the man up before his stride came to an end and he was forced to make a decision, but mercifully, the man made it for him. His face softened, and he held Gabriel’s eyes for a moment as his thin lips drew a pleasant line. The man looked wizened, with brilliantly-blazing old eyes, but his face was void of wrinkles and age. He could be no older than Cordis and no younger than Gabriel, but Gabriel could not put a number to his years.

  “Right on time,” he said lowly, his voice deep like grating rocks.

  Gabriel stopped his forward motion and looked at the man with battle defense stance while keeping his hands sheathed. They were useless weapons now, and he never learned hand-to-hand combat, so they were even more impractical.

  “Did Nolen send you?” Gabriel asked in a dark tone, his blood spiking at the new confrontation.

  The man smiled. “Nay, that one lays no claims to command me.” His deep voice was soothing, though his accent was faint and untraceable. “I am here for you.” Oddly enough, Gabriel had a suspicion he knew the man, as if he saw him in a crowd or met him long. The only discernible marking on his clothing was a faint shape carved into his golden belt reminiscent of the flames from the Fire emblem.

  Gabriel frowned. “You’ve caught me at a bad time,” he said and swallowed, feeling the neckpiece shift. It was displayed through his collar, and the man saw it bob with his throat. “I cannot help you.”

  “I am not here for your help.” The man stated. “Nor are you here for mine.”

  Gabriel raised a brow in question and shook his hair aside.

  “You need no help from any man or Mage—it was not what you were created for.”

  “Do you know me?” Gabriel asked incredulously and tapped his neckpiece.

  “I do. And what you need is not help, but hope.”

  Gabriel laughed at the idea. “Who are you?”

  “Some call me Brande, some Etain or Azar, others have names you know, but I cannot reveal. I call myself Arding, and I know you.” His voice calmed Gabriel’s heated skin and shifted his stance to casual. “You are meant for very great things.”

  Gabriel stared at him, seeing for the first time how deeply green his eyes were, and found he had no words to argue.

  The man took a step forward and put his broad hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. It was hot. “Take heart, my son, there are powerful players in this catastrophe you do not see.”

  “And you know my future?” Gabriel whispered.

  “Nay, lad, but I would have abandoned you long ago if I was fearful of it.” He tapped the Castrofax without fear. “This is but a setback.” Arding squeezed Gabriel’s shoulder like a father and stepped away.

  Gabriel turned, unsatisfied. “What part do you play in this?”

  The man rotated his shoulders to look back. “One of five.”

  “And what part do I play?”

  Arding stopped. “A Class Ten; a Fire, Earth, Spirit, and Water wielder; a Creator; an Anomaly born from Class Fives. What part do you think you play? It is not at all by chance.” His voice faded as he resumed his walk. Without another word he vanished around the corner.

  Aisling watched Gabriel nearly pull the door off the hinges as he flung it open. It gave a resounding bang on the outside wall, and an alarmed guard grabbed it. Gabriel looked drawn, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his lips tight as he marched passed her to his room. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, and she had not seen him return last night. He slowed when he saw she was there.

  “Pardon my intrusion,” he stated.

  “What has happened?” she asked in a high, worried voice. There were a thousand-thousand things that could go wrong now it seemed.

  Gabriel pinched his lips in, standing for a moment in silence as rage burned and quelled behind his face. “Overturn is killing me,” he finally said, fixing her with a serious stare.

  She swallowed and balled her fists in her dress. “I know. The Council knows. Head Mage Casimir’s last bird told me how Overturn works.”

  He nodded and his anger seemed to ebb just a touch. “You thought best to not tell me.” He did not meet her eyes, but his absent gaze betrayed his irritation.

  “You have enough burdens. I could not bear to add another. I—I could not be the one to tell you.”

  “Nolen told me,” he said and met her eyes. “I would have rather heard it from your lips.”

  She thinned them, realizing her folly instantly. She should have put away her emotions and pride for a moment and told him the truth, but she could not bear it. Here was the man she created. She lived without him for twenty four years, and now that he was a part of her life, she could not imagine it without him. She shamed herself for giving him up so easily.


  “What will you do?” she whispered, the quietness in her voice revealing her wavering emotions. She cleared her throat and composed herself, realizing Gabriel had a bruise forming on his jaw.

  “What is there for me to do? I could live for years or days. Who is to say?”

  ‘So Nolen had not told him most Mages lived two months maximum in Overturn. That was some blessing—or perhaps Nolen did not know? No, Nolen is surely getting his information from Ryker. He knows the truth.’

  “Also, a man stopped me in the hall. He said I was part of a greater plan and not to worry,” he said and shot his eyes to the ceiling, a smirk forming on his lips. “As bizarre as it sounds, his voice comforted me. I very nearly believed him.”

  Aisling pursed her lips, a sign that she had neither explanation nor remark for his encounter. “The Princess will be here within the week to claim her throne. The palace is a-flurry with rumors. She can grant you some peace.”

  Gabriel threw his hand up and gave himself a moment to collect his rage. All claimed comfort vanished. “She cannot do anything. Ryker is giving the orders here. Bringing Robyn into the fray would endanger her more than anything, and I cannot protect her without….” He left it unsaid. “If she shows up, you must do all you can to protect her. I don’t suppose the Head Mage will be sending any help.”

  “He has not said, but if he was planning something, he would not send a bird.”

  “A rider would not be shot from the sky.”

  She swallowed again. “Gabriel, if Casimir was planning something, would it not be in the Council’s best intentions to not tell you, for our concern that you might….”

  “Break.” He finished for her.

  She nodded. “And in doing so, our plans would be forfeit.”