His office was the same as always. Maps of the four kingdoms and elemental charts that only mages could understand decorated the stone walls. A tower of used teacups balanced precariously on the edge of his desk, while piles of books covered almost the entire floor, and somewhere, amid all the clutter, a bird tweeted incessantly.
Master Gelloren sat at his desk, bent over a pile of letters, wearing his usual oversized emerald robe. Judging from the stain on the collar, the wrinkles, and the crumbs of his favorite midnight snack—gingerberry tarts—sprinkled in the robe’s folds, he’d probably worked all through the night.
“Take a seat,” he instructed without looking up.
I remained standing, watching his quill glide across the parchment.
Eyes still on the letters, he said, “Well, all right then, stand.”
“Master, it’s not out of disrespect. I just want you to take me seriously.”
This time, he did look up. Even though he was one of the older Master Mages, Gelloren hadn’t gone fully gray yet. There were still tawny blond streaks in his well-groomed beard and braid. “My dear Ivy, I assure you, I always take you seriously—whether you are sitting down staring daggers at me, or standing up staring daggers at me.” He smiled, dabbed his quill, and continued his letter.
Ears tingling with heat at his veiled chastising, I sat, focusing on my knees. Finally, after sealing his letter with wax and placing it on top of other outgoing letters, he straightened and folded his hands inside his robe.
“Regarding Prince Kellian…my deepest condolences.”
His words forced the scene from Minnow’s memories back into my mind. I pictured the goblin—with a left eye that was horribly mutilated from Kellian’s blade—casting its mysterious curse, and green lightning engulfing my prince as the goblin disappeared into smoke.
I looked from the stack of letters on his desk to Gelloren’s face. He was watching me with those gray eyes that knew me so well. I didn’t have to pretend with him. And I didn’t have to tell him how Kellian’s loss made me feel. Like the goblin had personally carved out a piece of my heart with its clawlike fingernails.
He knew. Gelloren didn’t need tears or whining. He needed me to be strong. Focused.
“My Kiss…didn’t…” I cleared my throat. “It didn’t work, Master.”
Gelloren gave a tiny nod. “And you think that is somehow your fault.”
I glanced down at my hands balled up in my lap. I knew this new curse had to be terribly powerful, but even so…my revival Kiss was the best in the four Kingdoms. How could one goblin, one of the weakest kinds of dark creatures, have been strong enough to beat me?
“Minnow shared her memories with me,” Gelloren said. “It’s clear this green lightning is a new curse of great magnitude. Gifted though you may be, Ivy, your power isn’t unlimited.”
Gelloren would never coddle me. He always told me the truth—no matter how difficult. So I should have felt some relief, but his words made me feel worse. My power was limited, and the Forces were growing unimaginably stronger. How could I feel better about that?
Swallowing, I forced the words out. “Yes, well…I wouldn’t want you to think I no longer deserve a partner.” I twisted the hem of my tunic, needing something to squeeze. “Because Kellian is no longer able to fight…I would like…”
Just say it, Ivy. Tell him you want another partner, that you want to find the Wicked Queen yourself—that it’s your duty.
“You don’t need to say it, my dear.”
I held my breath. Would this be the moment my career at the Legion came to an end? With no pure princes left in Myria to wield my magic, the Council could argue I should be shipped off to the southern castle of Freida to begin producing heirs, just like my sister, Clover, had been three summers ago. She’d already had a son and was trying for her second.
Gelloren sighed, picking up another letter and unfolding it with his thin fingers.
Could that be a summons from Freida? Oh, Holy Sisters, I’m only seventeen! If they sent me there, how long would I be forced to stay? Would the war just get worse and worse until I came back to nothing but blood and ash?
He smoothed out the letter. “You need another partner. I know this.”
My shoulders relaxed.
“Kellian’s state, while tragic, is no excuse for us not to use Myriana’s Mark to its fullest in battle,” Gelloren continued.
At the mention of my greatest ancestor and her mark, I drew myself up taller. “Thank you, Master. I was afraid you’d make me retire to Freida.”
Master Gelloren placed the letter facedown, leaned back in his chair, and studied me. “No, we need your power now more than ever. The Forces of Darkness are rising to insurmountable numbers. Witches are creating more nests of dark curses, generating more and more goblins, trolls, griffins…and now with curses we have yet to identify.”
I nodded, knowing this all too well. Hearing it out loud made me realize I had no reason to fear they’d send me away. Even if the Council pushed, Gelloren would make them see the awful truth: they could not afford to wait until my children grew up to fight the Forces. What good was it to have Queen Myriana’s direct descendants if we didn’t use them? Thanks to a carefully constructed family tree, it was literally what they had been born to do.
Master Gelloren looked out his study window. “I fear that if we do not do something drastic soon, it won’t matter how many heirs we produce. We’ll be overpowered.”
The bird, still hidden somewhere in his office, stopped singing, as if it sensed the gravity of our conversation.
“I just don’t understand, Master Gelloren. How can we be so outnumbered? We are far more adept and trained than we were five hundred years ago. We kill at least fifty creatures every patrol, and yet a hundred more take their place!” The goblin’s scarred face flashed again in my mind, and I squeezed the fabric of my tunic until my knuckles turned white.
Master Gelloren stood and walked to his window, staring out at the Royals training below. The sun had fallen behind one of the few clouds in the sky, changing the shadows within the room, giving the office a more sinister atmosphere.
Which reminded me… “Sir, I spotted a swarm of sparrow harpies today, just outside the town limits.”
“Yes, I saw them, too. I dispatched a team earlier to investigate.”
“What do you think they mean?” In my studies, I’d learned that sparrow harpies spotted during the daytime were a bad omen. Often a harbringer of something evil to come, although I couldn’t imagine what. We were already under constant threat.
“I’ve an idea that I don’t feel comfortable sharing yet. I will when the time is right,” he said, turning from the window and giving me a familiar smile.
I didn’t like that smile. It was one of indulgence that he wore when I thought I had dealt the winning hand during a game of cards.
“Master…”
“We must continue to fight, and that is all we can do for now, my dear.”
“So get me out there.” I stood, too. “Please, whatever I have to do—I’ll do it. I’ll go to chapel every night and recite the sacred prayers, anything. Just find someone to be my partner—I don’t care who it is.”
Gelloren stroked his gold-and-silver streaked beard and maneuvered around a tower of books. “It’s not that simple, Ivy. We must find you a partner who can utilize your power for what you’re worth. And currently there are no Royals in Myria whom I feel are truly at your level.”
“Sir, it doesn’t matter. Even if he has barely any Royal blood—even if he’s a terrible swordsman—I can make up for it.” I poured all my passion and all my anger at seeing my partner’s comatose body into my words. “I had four princes before Kellian and each one was able to slay beasts three times their size. Telek took down a griffin in a single stroke with the power of one of my Kisses, and Drake slew three dru-goblins at once. Master, I was the nine-year-old who, with her first Kiss, was able to cure a village of a drought curse—”