Felling Kingdoms (Book 5) Page 3

  “I will wake him soon,” Afton nodded and ran her thumb along a muscle deep in his thigh. Mikelle almost envied her. After a while, she attempted the same technique along his other leg. Afton paused to instruct her properly with a sense of honor that Mikelle wanted to copy her. They spent an hour talking about massage, more than Afton had ever said in a week around Mikelle. By the time they finished his legs, Mikelle felt she understood the body better than ever.

  “I will wake him now,” Afton said in her soft voice and put a hand on his forehead. “If he wakes in pain, I will put him back down.”

  She pulled black threads from his head and gently shook his shoulder, “Gabriel.”

  He took in a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered, squinting in the lamplight. He tried to raise a hand, but both were still strapped down. For a moment panic widened his eyes, and he tensed to fight, but both women put their hands on him offering comforting words.

  “Easy,” Afton whispered. “Don’t fight it. How do you feel?”

  “I…ache,” he replied in a drawn voice. “How long has it been?”

  “All day. Do your muscles hurt?”

  He shook his head and commanded with Head Mage power, “Untie me.”

  Afton nodded, and Mikelle unbuckled the belts around him. He tried to sit up and fell back down on his side with a dazed look. “What happened?”

  “T’ poisons took t’eir toll on your muscular structure, but I managed to keep you from t’rashin’ too much.”

  “Stars above,” he whispered and gripped a hand on his temples. “Was I trampled by horses?” He slowly pushed himself to a seated position and drew a Water pattern over his body, wicking the moisture from his clothes and skin.

  “Table’s ruined.” Mikelle stated.

  “I’ll fix it. Help me up.”

  Mikelle put his arm over her shoulder, supporting him as they slowly stood. Since he healed her weakness, she found there was so much more she could do. She was much stronger than she ever imagined. She felt unstoppable some days.

  “Bath?” she asked, and he nodded, bracing one hand on whatever he could catch as they slowly moved.

  “Afton, don’t go anywhere,” he said quietly. She slipped her small frame under his arm and braced both hands on his torso. They walked him to the washroom and eased him to the floor beside the sunken tub. He sat staring at it for a while, his face blank and exhausted. Mikelle took the liberty of pulling his shirt off to which he made no argument.

  “Trousers, too?” Mikelle asked with a sly smile.

  “Shaun emboldened you too much,” he replied quietly and slipped into the water.

  “I beg your…” Afton breathed, but pinched her lips thinly trying not to smile.

  He slipped beneath the water and shook his hair out weakly. His head hung low as though he fought a great battle. “Afton, please tell Lael I am fine and to give the Council tomorrow off as well.”

  She bowed and slipped out.

  “You can go, too.”

  Mikelle shrugged. “I can wait.”

  He leaned his weary head back on the rim and exhaled.

  “Was it worth it?” she asked a while later.

  “Yes.” He punctuated the soft reply with the slap of his trousers hitting the floor. “I know where Evony is now, and therefore Ryker. I can attack.”

  “Not for a few days.”

  He moaned an agreement.

  “Come on out,” Mikelle said after a while. “You’ll raise your body temperature again.”

  “Let me die here,” he muttered.

  “Don’t make me get in there.”

  He reluctantly pushed himself off the bench and stood wearily, not even bothering to wick the water dripping off his skin. Without pausing to make her avert her eyes, he stepped out naked as his birth day and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.

  “Gabriel,” she hissed reproachfully.

  “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he replied and flopped into his bed face first without changing into sleeping clothes. Coal sat curled on a pillow and opened an eye disdainfully at the disruption.

  Mikelle took pity on him and gently tucked his legs beneath the sheets, covering him to the shoulders. “Sleep well, Head Mage.”

  He made no reply, already asleep.

  Virgil had never seen a woman more radiant than Queen Robyn that night. The lamplight caught her dress making it glow while it sparkled over her skin and jewels. Her color was one with the firelight. He wanted to keep her all to himself as they danced their way to midnight, but it was only proper to share. Someday she would be wholly his, and no one could steal her away.

  She came to him of her own volition when finished dancing with each partner. ‘Surely she sees me as an interest,’ he mused as she returned to him once more. A smile spread across her lovely face.

  “I would ask you to dance, but you look as though you had quite enough.”

  She beamed and took his elbow. “Perhaps for now. Ask me later,” she breathed.

  “A drink for now?” He gestured to a table out of the main dancing area, and she nodded. He swept her off the floor and cut through the swath of revilers all in their finery. He had changed into a long coat of blanched yellow trimmed in gold with a fine gray vest. His shirt tucked into tight-fitting gray trousers and high black boots. It was his best to emulate the Head Mage’s style.

  They left the cacophony of music and voices in exchange for the quiet evening and grabbed two goblets of warm wine. The city hummed with celebration and danced with lights. A parade passed beyond the wall, but Virgil took her out into the gardens where it was quieter. A few lovers milled and tried to find quiet benches, but Virgil had access to the private section in the center. He stepped her into a gazebo shaded by white trees bare of their leaves. The lamps had not been lit, leaving the crescent moon the only light peeking through the wood.

  “I am so pleased you joined us,” he said and took a seat on a bench that lined the walls.

  She sat beside him. “I am sorry it took so long for Anatoly to attend.”

  “Your mother and father attended a few times. I barely remember them.”

  “They were here?” Robyn breathed, the familiar longing for family pinged her heart.

  “As was Prince Balien. He was only two years old, so naturally we did not get along since I was five years at the time.”

  She laughed, but he knew her mirth was a farce by the dullness in her eyes. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I am sorry life has been so cruel to you. It is not right of me to make light of your loss.”

  She patted his knee and made him shiver. “I appreciate your concern, but I am fine. I cannot dwell on those I have lost, or I will become like them yet rooted in this plane.”

  He extended his palm and she placed hers in it for him to squeeze. “Let us talk of happier things. I would like to take you down the coast for a ride day after tomorrow. My family has an estate there, and I would like to treat you to a seaside lunch. I will have you back by evening unless you wish to stay there a few nights.”

  “That sounds delightful.”

  “It will give you a good chance to see more of Arconia,” he added.

  “Can we travel by horseback?”

  “Not carriage?” He raised his brow.

  “I would like to see more of your horsemanship.”

  “If it pleases my lady, we will travel a-horseback.” A sudden explosion of voices sounded from the grand palace. “Must be midnight.” He stood swiftly. “Would you join me in a dance to celebrate spring?”

  She kept her hand in his, and he raised her to her feet. “I have recovered.”

  He pulled her close, wrapping his free hand around her slender waist, and she in turn twined her hand around his shoulder. He took her through basic paces, never being one for elaborate dances. Sword fighting was like dancing, but he lacked the grace needed to sweep a girl over the floor. He was compact and powerful but could soften just enough to dance. If she notic
ed, she said nothing, relaxing into him with a sigh while faint celebratory music played in the background.

  Oh, how he wanted to kiss her, but it would undo all he worked for. Perhaps she could still be his if he did not push her too forcefully. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. ‘What does this mean? Women are so bloody hard to read.’

  He slowed their paces to a simple circle and managed not to step on her. He held her so tightly, he was sure he half-lifted her off the ground.

  “Thank you for coming to Eventide,” he said quietly to not disturb her fair face. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a smile. Oh, she was so beautiful. One way or another he would have her for the rest of his life. It made his heart race.

  “I am glad I could,” she replied quietly.

  He was nearly a head taller than she, but Virgil maneuvered himself carefully to lean down and put a kiss on her cheek. He wished for the softness of her lips but restrained. There would be plenty of time for them later. “Happy spring, Your Grace,” he whispered before she could argue with his informality.

  She simply smiled honestly without revulsion and stretched up to kiss his cheek in reply. He held his breath, hoping she would offer her lips for his pleasure, but she put her head back on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. If that was all he could have, he would take it for now.

  Chapter 4

  Robyn stayed up all night for the Eventide celebration. She went to sleep well after the sun rose, dead to the world and far too into her cups by the time she hit the pillow. She slept the better part of the day and only woke when her maid shook her to ready for supper. The palace was quiet, but there were still celebrators in the halls that prepared for supper. It was tradition to celebrate through the entire first day of spring, but Robyn did not have the energy. Though she had nearly recovered from the poisoning.

  The Duke of Dastan Isle held a lavish dinner for the nobility and associations in a ballroom. Robyn donned an emerald dress that slopped off the shoulders, draping a thick collar of emeralds around her neck. Arconia’s offering for the slight against Gabriel had made Anatoly rich with jewels, and while Robyn used most of them to pay for kingdom needs, she kept the best to be made into lovely pieces.

  Robyn spent most of the dinner socializing with the Dukes and Duchesses of the various Arconian provinces. She was already promised a flask of Dastan’s finest red as thanks for attending the Duke’s party. She had not been stingy in her own gifts, bringing Jaden gold wine, Parion cotton cloth, Aidenmarian leather, Cinibarian steel, and Anatolian silver-worked jewelry.

  King Victor finally caught her when she was alone, stepping up with a grandfatherly smile. “What do you think of Arconia, Your Grace?”

  “Oh please, Robyn. We are among friends.”

  He nodded humbly. “Then I must be Victor to you.”

  “Thank you, Victor, I am having an excellent time. You have a beautiful city.”

  “I understand you and Virgil will be traveling the countryside tomorrow. What a treat! I wish I could break myself away to see the rolling hills again, but I will not intrude on the youth of our generation.”

  Robyn tittered and patted his arm. “I wish you could come, but I will drink a cup of tea in your honor.”

  “That is most gracious of you, but make it wine. I have been enjoying the cask of Jaden gold you brought me. Who knew such sweet grapes could be grown. I have been drinking Dastanian reds my whole life, but what a treat to try something new and so delightful.”

  She bowed her head in thanks. “Victor, I hope I am not overstepping my bounds….”

  “Not at all dear, what is it?”

  “Did you banish your wife due to my presence here?”

  The man stroked his tightly-cropped white beard. “No, no my dear. She was banished as soon as she returned. She lied to me for her reasons to visit Anatoly, then disgraced a Mage under Jaden’s protection. We may not have the same views on the marriage bed as you, but we respect your culture, and she did more damage than I can speak of.”

  “You know, then, your Mages succeeded.”

  He bowed his head and took her arm, pulling her into a quiet hall. “I do. I found out shortly after she returned, and I was so grieved. I did not know until later that your Head Mage was broken at the time and had no choice in the matter,” he put a hand over his mouth and bowed his head lower. “I can never fully express my sorrow to you…or to him. Banishing Cathlyn was the most gracious thing I could do, for believe me, I wished her dead. But alas, the love of an old man is a powerful thing.”

  “I would not ask you for her death. I have seen too much of it in my years.”

  He patted her arm. “The Head Mage is your betrothed, yes? What will you do with the children?”

  “I have not decided,” she confessed. “It depends on how many he fathers.”

  “Oh,” the King paused. “Dear Robyn, all the women conceived,” he said gently. “Two are having twins. He will have eleven children if the births go smoothly.”

  Robyn stared at him, her lips cracked where a disbelieving breath had slipped. “Eleven?”

  “I am sorry to bring you this news. The Head Mage must not know.”

  She nodded. ‘Or he did not wish me to know.’ She swallowed and composed herself smoothly. “No matter. I am sure I will have a few of my own to think about anyway.”

  “Yes, yes, my dear. When will you be married?”

  She waved a hand as they resumed walking. “When he defeats the Arch Mages.”

  “There is no telling when that will be,” he replied as if reading her mind. “No matter. It will give you more time to know him better. A man changes in battle. He becomes confident and sure and better understands his capabilities. It is a thing all leaders must undergo.”

  ‘If he makes it out alive.’

  When Gabriel woke, the sunlight was already streaming through the cracks in his curtains. Coal was soundly asleep wrapped around his head, his paws stretched over Gabriel’s collarbones. Gabriel’s body felt stretched and drained. He laid there for some time staring at the canopy and feeling the cat’s warm breath on his cheek. It took him half an hour before he dared try and sit up. Coal made no attempts to assist.

  He shuffled to the washroom for a drink of water, feeling parched and looking ghostly in the mirror. He had to pause after, lying on the floor and propping his feet on a chair to drain blood into his head.

  The door to his room unlatched. “Head Mage, are you awake?” he heard the soft voice of Afton ask.

  “I’m in here,” he replied quietly, thankful for once that she was blind. She appeared in his doorway and gasped. “I’m fine,” he assured as she rushed to his side and crouched down.

  “You should be in bed, Head Mage.”

  “I have work, Afton.”

  “No, no, my lord, you gave t’ Council t’ day off so you could rest.”

  “I have rested,” he argued. She sat back on her heels and frowned. The scars around her eyes crinkled.

  “You look terrible.”

  “You can’t see.”

  She gently put a hand on his forehead. “I see just fine. Put your trousers on.”

  “Some days trousers are overrated.”

  “You would disgrace yourself in front of me?”

  “You came in here.”

  She smiled a little. “Come lay down in t’ library. I still need to work t’ toxins out of your muscles. Leave t’ trousers.”

  “That’s more like it,” he said and slowly raised himself to his feet, shuffling through the study into the library. Afton had laid out a mat on the table.

  He laid face first on the table. She dug into him until he winced, working him from neck to heel, flipping him over, and working back up. She finally came to his head and laced her fingers into his hair. She pulled and twisted in the most relaxing manner he had ever experience. She slowly worked her way onto his face and pressed various places. He melted in her hands and was practically comatose by the time sh
e got to his ears.

  He woke sometime later with the light of afternoon streaming through the slender window. It took him a moment to realize where he was and how late it had gotten. A blanket was draped over his body, and he slowly sat up. Afton had set a pair of trousers and a shirt out on a chair. Judging by the lack of kinetic energy nearby, he was alone.

  He threw the blanket around his shoulders and shuffled to his desk to survey new reports. A thick book was open on the top with names scrawled across. Some bore Classes and Elements beside them. There were still so many left to Class, and he was two days behind.

  His study door swung open slowly catching his eye on Lael. “Have…you forgotten how to dress yourself…or did Mikelle not aid you this morning?”

  “When did you become so humorous?”

  Lael smiled in his cunning and stepped to the desk. “You look well. How do you feel?”

  “Certain someone dragged me behind a carriage.”

  Lael chuckled and raised his hand to the hearth, relighting the dying embers. “I admit, that was the most amazing way of securing a piece of the Arch Mage. You must have known what she was planning.”

  Gabriel glanced up from an order. “Of course,” he lied. Lael would think him reckless if he knew the truth.

  “It was worth it.” Lael drew a folded piece of paper from within his coat and set it carefully on the desk. “Here is her hair. We can attack as soon as you are well.”

  The idea clenched Gabriel’s heart. Fight the Arch Mages. Fight four of the best known killers of the Ages by himself. There had to be a way around it. He drummed his fingers on the desk as the idea took root.

  Lael raised him from his reverie. “Afton asked to see you once you woke. Mikelle should be bringing a meal up soon as well.”

  Gabriel forgot he had not eaten since breakfast the day before. “I hope it’s bacon.”

  “I believe it is stew today.”

  “Bacon stew?”

  Lael gave him a pinched look as if wondering if Gabriel was fully cognizant. “Certainly,” he replied slowly.