Sworn To Transfer
A
storm was rolling in off the coast of Sandrin. Heavy rains buffeted the docks and high winds whipped the ends of coiled loops of thick sailor’s rope up into the air across the deck of the large ship. Ciardis Weathervane huddled miserably as she felt the ice-cold wind and rain buffeting her every few minutes in steady waves. First the cold rain would slice into her face, and then a heavy stream of frosty air would strike, pushing her cloak back and soaking her front. Still, she stayed where she was, and she fought not to shiver under the thick blue cloak that she wore.
Prince Sebastian wasn’t far from her side. If you could call across the ship with dozens of soldiers between them “not far.” It was the closest he’d been to her in weeks, though. Ciardis felt her heart clench just a little when she thought about that. The distance that seemed to have grown between the two of them wasn’t only physical. Shaking off her nerves and turning from the railing where she gazed pensively down into the gray, churning water of the ocean, she took in the gathering around her.
To her left stood a living hedge with hair, eyes, chattering teeth, and she was sure, frozen fingers. The guards stood at attention in neat rows with upright pikes in their right hands, their left hands gripping sheathed swords at their waists, and their golden armor dripping wet in the downpour. Staring stoically ahead to a man—and woman—the Prince Heir’s guard didn’t flinch at the monstrous sound of thunder and lightning cracking down over the ocean to the east of the ship.
Until ten minutes ago, Ciardis had been standing under the shelter provided by the Weather Mage traveling in the Prince Heir’s retinue. She’d left to get some air, frustrated with her own self-doubt. It had been three months since she and Prince Sebastian had killed the Princess Heir. Three months since they’d danced on the beach in the glowing afternoon. She was trying hard to focus on her life now as a Companion trainee. But it was kind of hard to focus when you didn’t know where you stood.
The Patron Hunt had been put on indefinite hold. Partially because having a Prince Heir as an interested party took precedence above all other candidates. Not that there hadn’t been some grumbling among her other candidates, but Ciardis had not objected to the Prince Heir’s monopoly. After politely sending notifications to all of her suiters, she had waited with growing impatience to hear from the Imperial Courts. Becoming a Companion to a Prince wasn’t just
his
decision, a lot of protocol was involved and many other people held sway. She had tried to talk to Sebastian about it. But other than acknowledging his prominance as her premier candidate, nothing had been said.
And now she was stuck right back where she’d started. They hadn’t formalized their contract as Patron and Companion. Hell, they hadn’t even had discussions on what it meant. Oh she knew in theory from history what being a Companion to a powerful member of the imperial family would mean. But Sebastian hadn’t
asked
her. He hadn’t asked her if she wanted to stand by his side, rule in his stead in far-flung places, or act as his advisor in tempestuous times.
Instead he just seemed to prefer avoiding her like the plague and attending to whatever duties his father handed out. They had a relationship she would agree, but she couldn’t say what kind. By the seven gods, in the past three months she’d spent less than three weeks in the Prince Heir’s presence. His duties had kept him busy at his father’s side in court functions and hers had kept her attending gala after gala. In coming out into the cold sea air and rain, she’d hoped to clear her mind of her worry over that bowl of worms as well as a long list of enemies that saw fit to make her life miserable. Her life in the Imperial Courts was turning out to be a never-ending series of crises. Mostly because of Sebastian – even if he wasn’t currently talking to her.
A moment later a horn blast came from the front of ship.
That horn was the sound that called for all people aboard to take their proper places. She went forward while wishing that the ambassador flying in by delegation had elected to hold their meeting anywhere else. Preferably a place that was warm.
I wonder if they’re coming in by winged horse? The pegasi steeds would have to be very strong to withstand the fierce winds of this storm.
Another ship would be more likely. Aside from that, she wondered where the ambassador would be flying in from. No one had said a word about which country this mysterious delegation was representing.
As she reached the edge of the square block that made up the bulk of the Prince Heir’s guard, she saw the wind shield—the large dome that took up the front half of the ship. It was only visible due to the harsh rain bouncing off and pouring down its sides. In the meantime, as Ciardis stood there taking in the retinue surrounding the Prince Heir, her hair was getting soaked and the cloak over the rest of her was starting to stick to her skin. It had a water repellant spell on it, but that only worked in lighter rains. This was turning into a downpour.
It was nothing compared to the turmoil in her heart.
Peering ahead she had an unobstructed view of the Prince. Across Sebastian’s armor, runes glimmered with an iridescent light briefly, like a firefly in the night air, before the luminance would disappear in one spot and reappear in another on the metalwork. She stood still, staring at it, mesmerized for a second. She’d never lost the ability to see another’s magic and had even gained a better grasp of sight into another mage’s core—a Weathervane ability, according to Artis. A beautiful red cloak hung from Sebastian’s shoulders, and he’d pushed it back from his left shoulder so that it hung at an angle. He wore a white, long-sleeved shirt between his skin and the chest plate and loose brown leather pants encased his legs.
As Ciardis stepped through the shield put up by the Weather Mage, she smiled and nodded over to him with that smile
.
As she turned to look around, from her right a woman stepped forward. She had previously stayed in the shadows and Ciardis had yet to get a good look at her. Ciardis paused what she was doing, her mind aflurry with disbelief. Even in the middle of the ocean on the deck of a ship, this woman was stunning. But that wasn’t why Ciardis’s pulse pounded in her ears and her eyes stayed glued to the woman coming forward. Power was radiating from her in the same way heat radiated from a roaring fire.
The woman wore a red dress with white stitching down the front and her hair flowed in waves of amber down her back. The dress, the color of the dark red heat of a coal fire, was more than just elegant; it was the garment of a Fire Mage. Impervious to heat and fire, the weave was one that she knew well from her days as a laundress. Smith and metalwork clans heading north to supply the war had bought the fabric for their sons and daughters. It had to be meticulously handstitched and was so resistant to heat that if its owners walked into a blazing potter’s kiln, not a mark would appear on them. She’d seen it happen once.
Ciardis felt the press of the wet cloak on her cold, bare arms. She began to shiver and in doing so broke the magnetic hold of the woman before her. She felt like a drowned rat in front of the woman, who chose that moment to speak.
“Ciardis Weathervane?” said the woman as she placed her hands over Ciardis’s left hand, stilling it from its quest to increase circulation and warmth in the opposite arm. Ciardis felt unease drip down her spin. She still couldn’t get used to people she’d never met before recognizing her.
Mirth lit up in the woman’s eyes for a moment as she said, “It’s your eyes. Even from a distance there aren’t so many around here with that color – golden like a finch’s wings.” Ciardis nodded as surprise began to overtake her unease. The woman’s warm touch on her hand was nice. Heat had begun to rise off in stronger waves from the woman’s skin; it was as if Ciardis stood next to the open door of a stove with fire-lit coals inside.
Respect began to build in her. She knew that for a mage to call this much heat in the middle of a storm-tossed ocean would take lots of power. The clash of the elements alone should have prevented the woman from doing all but the most basic tasks with her fire element.