A Lonely Magic (30 page)

Next to her, Gaelith pressed her lips together, her smile hidden but not invisible.

“Too much?” Fen asked.

Gaelith spread her hands. “You shall put me to shame. The Voice of Lan Tis will think you nothing but proper, the Voice of Ys Ker will be composing poetry in her head between speeches, and the Voice of Lu Mer will be tragically disappointed to discover that you are too young for propositions of pleasure. The Voice of Ku Mari will disapprove, but that is inevitable.”

“How about your mom?” Fen asked. She wasn’t sure she cared what all those other people thought, but she’d rather be invisible to Cyntha Del Mar. If that wasn’t possible, proper would be just fine.

She refused to consider why she cared about Cyntha Del Mar’s opinion of her. The why wasn’t important.

“My mother. Ah.” Gaelith turned away from Fen. She picked up a bag sitting next to the chair. She set the bag down on the chair. Then she picked it up again. Finally, she turned back and looked Fen directly in the eyes. “My mother bore four children. Three yet survive. This fact shapes her experience and understanding. In the past days, one of her children twice suffered life-threatening injuries. Another risked much to save him—a risk entirely unacceptable by our social norms. Her third faced great danger. And her mother—her beloved mother—was grievously threatened.”

“Uh-oh,” Fen muttered.

“You could come naked to the Great Council and my mother would not notice. Clothes are of no import to her at the moment.”

The Trial Begins

Fen followed Gaelith into the hall.

It wasn’t what she expected. Her footsteps faltered at the doorway. She didn’t know what she’d been picturing. A courtroom? The Senate Chamber she’d seen while flipping past C-SPAN? The dining hall at Hogwarts?

She should have known better.

A railed bridge led over a circular moat of gently drifting water and onto a raised platform. The floor was soft underfoot, the walls iridescent. A spiral walkway circled the room, reaching level after level of balconies railed with intricate copper and silver designs. People sat in rows, or stood, leaning on the railings. Fen could see them talking to one another, lips moving, but the sounds were muted.

In the center of the platform, the members of the Great Council sat in a semi-circle of comfortable chairs, each unique. Other people were gathered in small clusters, standing behind members of the Council, or sitting in chairs of their own at the edge of the moat. The queen sat with the council, but separate, an extension to the semi-circle, her chair a comfortable armchair printed with colorful fish.

And behind his mother, leaning over as if to whisper something in her ear, was Kaio. He straightened and Fen’s eyes met his.

His nod was an inclination of his head so slight that someone watching less closely than Fen would have missed it entirely, but the lift to the corner of his mouth sent heat rushing through her veins.

What did that smile mean? Her heart raced, but he looked away, stepping back from his mother, without giving her any other hint of a signal.

“Gaelith of House Del Mar?” asked the woman at the center of the council. Her chair was an ornate green monstrosity that looked as if it wanted to be a throne, but wasn’t quite.

Fen tried to remember who she was. Green. That was Lan Tis, right? Huh, so this lady was the actual Atlantean in the room. She looked damn cranky and pretty old for a mythical being.

“Wait on this side of the bridge,” Gaelith said to Fen in a hushed voice. “Although all may observe and listen, only the Council, advisors and those whose names are called are permitted on the inner chamber.”

Fen scowled, but didn’t argue as Gaelith walked gracefully across the bridge and paused in the middle of the circle.

“I am Gaelith of House Del Mar,” she said, her voice even.

The woman’s lips pursed. “After much debate, the Great Council has determined that your responsibility for the opening ceremony’s unfortunate events must be attributed to professional misconduct and is therefore not criminal. As such, it is no responsibility of the council. Should House Nik Phore require further investigation or reparations, they may plead their case to the Council and Queen of Syl Var.”

Fen, standing by the edge of the moat, rocked back on her heels. That sounded promising.

Gaelith opened her hands in a wide sweep. “I await the judgment of my city.”

The woman from Lan Tis—Selene, that was her name, Fen remembered—raised her hand, palm open, in a gesture to her left, as if handing over the proceedings to Queen Ellinora.

The old woman gazed at Gaelith, unblinking, as she spoke. “As the queen of Syl Var, it is my responsibility to determine the appropriate punishment for your negligence, negligence resulting in the death of the Voice of Val Kyr.”

Fen’s eyes narrowed. The queen’s voice was firm, her gaze stern, but something about the way she held her mouth looked defiant.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gaelith said.

“Baldric of House Nik Phore, the Voice of Val Kyr, burned to death under the wings and claws of a phoenix,” the queen said.

Gaelith drew her hands in to her waist and spoke, bowing her head.

Fen ignored her.

Holy shit.

Her nerves had finally calmed down enough for her to see what was in front of her. Malik, fucking Malik, gorgeous murderer guy, sat on a plain wooden chair, an empty chair next to him, his eyes intent on her.

She glared at him.

Why the hell wasn’t he in jail? They were going to punish Gaelith while they gave Malik a seat at their table? Those fucking losers.

“It grieves me to impose this upon you, but we all must learn,” the queen was saying, her voice gentle. “You are suspended from healing for the remainder of your fourteenth score.”

“Your majesty?”

Fen glanced at Gaelith. She sounded more shocked than worried.

“Except in the event of emergencies,” the queen added hastily. “You may work as a healer when a life depends upon it. But not else. You must fill your time in some other fashion.”

Gaelith bowed her head in acquiescence and said something polite. As she turned away and back to Fen, though, the corners of her mouth were twitching in what looked like amusement. Although Fen couldn’t hear their words, the crowds on the balconies seemed to be reacting the same way.

“Elfie?” Fen whispered. “What happened?”

“The sentence her majesty has imposed on Lady Gaelith Del Mar for her involvement in the death of Baldric of Val Kyr is not harsh. Indeed, it could be interpreted as reward. A vacation, rather than a punishment.”

“There, you see?” Gaelith murmured, coming to a stop next to Fen. “I told you all would be well.”

Fen shot her a mocking look—she’d never said anything of the sort—before grinning. “Do you get to do crafts now?”

Gaelith lifted her shoulders. “Indeed, I hardly know. I shall have to consider how to allocate my days. Perhaps some time spent on magic lessons for you?”

“Or reading lessons for you,” Fen suggested. “You could learn to read in a few months, easy, and magic and reading are sort of the same thing.”

“Let us move on,” the cranky lady said, her words carrying across the water. “We must next discuss the disposition of Felicia Elizabeth of House Naylor, from Wai Pa.”

Fen stiffened, putting her chin up, her smile disappearing. But it was only right that they place the blame where it was due. She was the one who’d killed Baldric. Maybe Gaelith enabled her, but her will had done the deed.

Gaelith turned to stand next to her, putting a comforting hand on her upper arm. “All will be well, I swear to you.”

“I submit that Lan Tis is the appropriate destination for the minor child,” Selene continued. “We are the oldest city. We maintain the traditions of the Sia Mara. She will be well trained amongst us. There could be no better domicile.”

“Nonsense.” The speaker was the woman who’d worn the patchwork quilt at the binding ceremony, now seated on an austere chair of metal and orange fabric. Fen tried to remember her name. Dineth? “Ku Mari is obviously where she must go. We were the closest city to Wai Pa. If the child has family, they will be found in Ku Mari.”

“Ys Ker wishes to stake a claim,” Riana, the dramatic woman from the ceremony, said. “We found her. One of our Watchers discovered her existence in the human city of Chicago. We deserve the opportunity to provide her refuge.”

“Indeed, and you allowed her to be attacked by the Val Kyr.” The scoffing tone from the woman of Lan Tis made Fen’s hackles rise.

What the hell? What was this?

“A demonstrated ability to keep her safe should be the very least of the mandatory requirements for her future home,” the woman continued. “She will be in no danger in Lan Tis.”

“She is in Syl Var,” Cyntha Del Mar said, voice calm. “She may remain here in safety.”

The protests rose up from around the table, multiple voices objecting at once.

Fen, lips cold, said, “What’s happening here? Isn’t this a murder trial?”

“Of course not,” Gaelith replied. “You have murdered no one, child.”

Elfie replied as well, her tone matter-of-fact. “I believe your interpretation pattern would call this a custody battle.”

“What the hell? I’m an adult.”

“Not in Sia Mara,” Elfie said. “The age of majority is forty, the time at which one chooses her first score’s work. At twenty-one years of age, you’re an adolescent.”

“The unfortunate circumstances of your life have demanded much of you, true, but no one would hold a child responsible for such unintentional misfortune,” Gaelith said.

Maybe her words were meant to be reassuring, but Fen’s mouth felt dry and the room didn’t hold enough air anymore.

Being tried for murder? Okay.

Being sent back to foster care? For almost twenty more years?

No.

No.

No fucking way.

“You are also a demonstrably talented adolescent,” Elfie continued. “Given the current precarious circumstances of the Sia Mara, a powerful child might affect the probability of the long-term survival of their homes. It is possible the Voices might get tense about this.”

“She belongs at Lan Tis,” snapped Selene.

“Ys Ker has a valid claim,” said Riana.

“Ku Mari is the natural destination for those of Wai Pa. We will allow no less.”

“She is safe in Syl Var,” Cyntha Del Mar offered. “Surface travel is hazardous, as we all know. There is no reason to risk the child.”

“Because your son brought her here,” said the Voice of Ku Mari. “An entirely unreasonable decision, one which must also be closely examined. What evidence did he have of her ancestry before allowing her across Sia Maran borders? Bringing surface dwellers into our cities is a violation of one of our most fundamental laws.”

Oh, hell, now Luke was in trouble, too?

Her eyes flew to Kaio. He was frowning, brows drawn down, shoulders tense, not looking at her, but his body language lacked the relaxed confidence she was used to seeing from him.

“Elfie, what’s the penalty for bringing surface dwellers into a refuge?” Fen whispered.

“Exile.”

Shit. They thought they were going to keep her prisoner and exile Luke?

This had to be a bad dream. A really bad dream.

Malik leaned forward in his chair. Fen’s eyes were drawn to him by the motion and for the first time she realized that his hands and legs were bound as he raised his tied hands and drawled, “Point of order.”

Heads turned in his direction, faces showing shock and surprise. “After refusing to respond to all of our queries, you speak now, Val Kyr?” the woman from Lan Tis spluttered.

“Custody of a minor child traditionally belongs to her nearest kin,” Malik said, ignoring her question. “Do you intend to violate tradition yet again?”

“We shall endeavor to find her kin,” the woman from Ku Mari spoke. “This is why she should come to Ku Mari. Any relatives she has will be there.”

“Not true,” Malik said.

“How say you so?” Cyntha asked.

He grinned, an entirely unfriendly stretch of the lips across his face. “I recognized the woman in her projection. Her mother.” He dipped his head to Fen and added, “Our mother.”

On Trial