Marked by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #4)(66)

“All of it?” I looked up at him in surprise. “You’ve broken the lock my father put on my magic?”

“Permanently.” Iannis grinned at the stunned expression on my face. “It wouldn’t do to have my future wife handicapped in any way. Besides, you’ve gained enough control over your emotions that I can trust you won’t blast someone into smithereens whenever you get angry.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said dryly, and he chuckled, pulling away. Lifting my hand, I directed my magic toward a small, potted tree by the window, willing it to sprout a few blossoms. Power surged through me, and I gasped as the branches exploded with dozens of tiny purple blossoms – quite a few more than I’d expected.

“I guess I need to recalibrate,” I thought, scratching my head as Iannis laughed. Yesterday, I would have had to push harder to get the same effect.

“Indeed.” Grinning, Iannis kissed the top of my head, then pulled a key from my sleeve and placed it in my hand. “Your second gift,” he explained when I frowned down at the key in puzzlement. “You’ll find a brand-new steambike with your name on it when you next go snooping in the garage.”

“Wow.” I stared at him, at a complete loss for words. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” I finally said as I threw my arms around him and kissed him hard.

Sometime later, Iannis lifted his head, breathing heavily. “Much as I would love to continue this, we do have other matters that need attending,” he reminded me. “I must call a council meeting and determine what to do with the prisoners.”

“Of course.” Sighing, I unwrapped myself from around Iannis’s body, then stepped back. “You’re inviting me to this one, right?” I asked, giving him a beady eye.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”





26





Several hours later, I left the council room exhausted, but triumphant. I’d lobbied hard for lighter sentences for the shifter and human civilians who had been incited to violence by the rebellion, insisting that it would be more productive to put them to work rebuilding the city via community service projects than having them languish on Prison Isle, or relegating them to back-breaking mine work. The council had grudgingly agreed, especially when Iannis threw the weight of his approval behind me.

As for the Resistance soldiers themselves, that was a tougher battle, particularly as the Resistance was still active in other states of the Federation. I argued that because the Resistance had brainwashed the shifters with propaganda and false promises when the plan all along was to kill them, the shifter soldiers should be given lighter sentences. Between the higher taxes levied against the shifter community, and the Herald’s successful attempt to turn the population against shifters, they could hardly be blamed for latching onto the promise of a system where they would be treated fairly.

The council members contended that regardless of the reason, these shifters had willingly participated in heinous crimes against civilians, and needed to be punished accordingly. But a few of them agreed with me to give them a second chance, and Iannis pointed out that, at this time, goodwill toward the community was needed far more than punishment. Eventually, we came to an agreement that the shifter members of the Resistance would be sentenced to a maximum of five years’ hard labor in the mines, depending upon how long they’d been with the Resistance, and whether or not they’d directly contributed to acts of terrorism.

As for the humans, the higher ups were facing execution after their trials, and the regular soldiers either many more years of hard labor in the mines than the shifters, or some equally gruesome sentence. I suppose I could have argued for some of the soldiers as well, but honestly, I didn’t give a shit. I remembered all too well the congregation that had applauded Father Calmias’s sermon – they hadn’t been an oppressed people looking for fair treatment. They’d been a group of elitists, ready to commit genocide to get what they wanted.

I found out at the council meeting that though Chartis had gotten away yet again, Yantz was in custody, as were Thorgana Mills and my cousin Rylan. I wanted a face-to-face conversation with the last two, so after the meeting dispersed, I left the Palace and rode my new steambike to the Port to catch a ferry to Prison Isle.

News of my engagement to the Chief Mage had spread across the city like wildfire, so when I arrived at the island, the prison staff practically tripped over their feet to accommodate me. I informed the warden on duty that I wanted to speak to Rylan Baine, and I was promptly led to a private visitor’s chamber to wait while they brought him in. I was amused when one of the hulking prison guard mages offered me refreshments – they’d never been this accommodating when I’d come here on enforcer business. My first impulse was to decline the offer, but I figured Rylan might want something to eat or drink. So instead, I asked for whatever they had available.

When two guards led Rylan into to the room, he arched his brows at the sight of the platter of sliced cheeses and meats and the pitcher of milk that was sitting on the steel table. I didn’t miss the gleam of hunger in his yellow shifter eyes though – his face was thin, eyes sunken, and the loose fit of his black-and-white striped prisoner’s uniform told me he hadn’t been eating enough.

Not exactly surprising, I thought to myself. The easiest way to keep a group of shifters under control was by keeping them undernourished. Our superior strength and agility depended on large quantities of food. Anger sparked in my chest at the idea that the shifters here were being starved, but there was nothing I could do about it, and besides, they were criminals.