The king’s face turned as pale as bone. The elfwood hand came down on the arm of the chair and broke it into splinters. Even Mal Quorin stepped back from the rising fury of his master.
“Get… them… out of… here, Quorin! Get them out before I forget treaties!”
As the counselor rushed around the chair to aid the emissaries in their hasty departure, Erini started forward. She had been waiting out of sight near one of the side doors to the massive room with the intention of joining her betrothed once the talks were finished. Now, the princess wanted nothing more than to soothe Melicard before his anger drove him to further destruction and possible injury.
A firm hand clamped itself on her shoulder. “Your majesty, I wouldn’t recommend you speak to him at this time.”
She turned on the sudden intruder, intending to give him a strong, royal reprimand, and met the sad gaze of the sorcerer Drayfitt.
“He is in a dangerous mood, milady, and neither of us should be nearby. Things have not gone well.” The aged spellcaster shook his head slowly. “And I fear that I am the cause of much of it.”
“So what have your problems to do with me?”
Drayfitt gave her a sour smile. “Counselor Quorin, in what may be his finest performance, has been trying to make your arrival and stay here a detriment to the king’s crusade. He’s already pointed out how you kept the king occupied while I destroyed Quorin’s damnable book.”
Erini blinked. “Book? What are you talking about, mage?”
“I speak too much. Suffice to say, milady, King Melicard is not quite certain about the courtship. We have to give him a little time to recall all you did for him yesterday-and it was significant, I can tell you. He was almost the Melicard of long ago.”
“You ramble a bit, Master Drayfitt,” the princess paused, “but I will stay clear of him for a short while-providing you give me some answers I seek.”
Drayfitt closed his eyes in concentration. When he opened them, he quietly replied, “Don’t ask me about yesterday. Even I don’t know everything-as Quorin has reminded me again and again.”
The spellcaster’s muttered words did little to assuage Erini’s curiosity, but she knew there were other ways to find out what she wanted to know. The princess was about to ask him a question that she was fairly certain he would answer, when the elderly man stumbled against the wall. Erini reached out and grabbed his hand to prevent him from sliding to the floor.
He regained his balance almost immediately, but the look on his face was the most tragic yet. “Forgive me, princess. My powers have been tested beyond their limits lately; I’ve made heavy use of them much too late in life. Had I continued to train, to practice, while I was still young…” Drayfitt’s voice trailed off as he stared at Erini’s hand, which he still held in his own. After several seconds, he looked up at the princess as if she had sprouted wings. All his grief, all his exhaustion, seemed to vanish as he said, “Step down the corridor with me, please. We need privacy. I think there is something we must talk about quickly.”
Not knowing whether she was mad to trust him, Erini reluctantly followed. Drayfitt led her along for quite some time, refusing to release her hand from his own. She began to worry. What if the spellcaster cared as little for her as Mal Quorin did? Despite his polite, sometimes helpful attitude, he might object to the marriage as much as the counselor did. What did he see in her hand?
As if trying to relieve her fears, Drayfitt turned and smiled assurance. He led her around a corner and stopped. There were no guards in sight.
“I could’ve touched the minds of some of the sentries and had our talk in a more open place, but such flamboyancy always backfires. Knowing something as simple but important as that was one reason I lived peacefully most of my life. I dearly wish it was still true.”
“What do you want with me?”
“You have a natural affinity like none that I have ever seen.”
The sorcerer continued to hold her hand, studying it closely as if looking for some minuscule marking. Erini had a very uncomfortable idea that she knew what he was searching for. Nevertheless, she played innocent. “What sort of affinity? For excellent fingernails? For having the ‘fair skin’ of a maiden in the tales of the minstrels and players?”
His features grew grim. “Don’t play games with me, your majesty! You know what sort of affinity I talk of. Have you felt the involuntary desire to test your skills? What do you see? Most burgeoning spellcasters see the lines and fields of power that crisscross the world. Others see the spectrum, the dark and the light, and choose what they need from that. Which are you, Princess Erini?”
He’ll tell Melicard! The thought was an irrational outburst, but Erini did not care. She was not yet ready to face the king with her own curse, not until she was certain her relationship with him was stronger. The princess tried to pull away, pretending to be offended. “You’re mad! I am a princess of Gordag-Ai and the betrothed of your own monarch! Release me at one and forget this nonsense!”
Drayfitt’s other hand shot forward and Erini had momentary fear that the sorcerer was going to strike her. Instead, his hand went up to the hair above her eyes. Mystified, she stood silent as the elderly man searched for something.
“Aaaah! The growth is slower than I would’ve thought, but it seems to be different with each magic-user. Interesting. Ishmir was wrong.”
“What-what are you talking about now?” She jerked her head away, as if suddenly feeling continued contact would affect her somehow. Simultaneously, Drayfitt released her hand.
“There is a lock of silver amongst your beautiful, golden tresses, Princess Erini. The silver will expand-magically, you might say-as your abilities grow. Soon-and sooner than you want, I know-it will be impossible to hide it. Before that point, you must decide what you will do.”
This was the last thing she had expected to deal with this morning. Erini stepped back and smoothed her dress, more to try to calm herself than because it needed it. “You don’t know what you’re saying! If you will excuse me, Master Drayfitt, I believe I will retire to my chambers. I’m not feeling well.”
She started to go around him, but the aged sorcerer took hold of her again. His strength was phenomenal, a complete contrast to his weakness a moment before. A fire burned in his eyes. “Don’t make the mistake I did, milady. Even if you never need them, it is best to hone your skills. I can help you. I’ve lived through the pain and the fear-more than most, I regret to say. I can teach you. There is no choice; your abilities will grow with or without your permission.”
“Let me go,” Erini commanded icily.
Drayfitt obeyed, but he was not yet through speaking. “Think about it. I’ll be honest. I may need your assistance later on.” As her eyes widened, he immediately added, “What I ask of you will only benefit King Melicard, not hurt him. I want the best for him, as do you. I think that your marriage will may possibly save him from the fate of his father-or worse.”
Erini could listen no more. There was too much in what Drayfitt had said that had the ring of truth or, at the very least, conviction. A part of her wanted to turn to him for whatever aid he could give her… but the fear of losing everything and the shame of what she was becoming held her back. Perhaps some time alone would let her clear the fog that had grown thick in her mind.
As she walked stiffly away, the sorcerer called after her, “I hope you feel better, your majesty. Let us talk again soon.”
She did not respond.
THE THRONE FELT proper beneath him. Taloned hands stroked the cracked armrests. He smiled as he thought of the others making obeisance to him, awarding what was due to him after these frustrating past few years.