Scorched by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #7)(21)

I dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a sweater, then strapped my crescent knives to my right thigh. I debated putting on shoes, then decided against it—my footfalls would be silent if I went barefoot, relieving me from having to use a silencing spell. Mages could detect if a spell was in use if they were paying attention, so I wanted to rely on magic as little as possible. My shifter senses would be enough.

It was a little eerie walking through the Palace halls at this time of night. There was absolutely no one else about—not even a maid. Guards were strategically stationed by the entrances, but none were near the guest rooms in the East Wing. Powerful wards had been set up to protect against intruders, so there was no need for anything more than a patrol.

Speaking of a patrol…footsteps sounded on the stone floor around the corner. Quietly as I could, I darted into a broom closet, wedging myself behind a forest of mop handles and buckets as far back as I could go. The footfalls grew closer, and flickering torchlight seeped beneath the crack in the door as the guard made his rounds. He paused outside the closet, and I held my breath, praying to Magorah that he wouldn’t open it.

He moved on, and I held in my sigh of relief until his steps had faded completely. I really did not want to have to explain to him why I was hiding in the broom closet. Strictly speaking, I didn’t have to—I was the Chief Mage’s fiancée, free to come and go as I pleased. But I didn’t want any guards to catch me snooping outside Garrett’s room—they would inevitably talk about it, and I didn’t want them discovering there were conflicts among the mages. As far as the staff knew, Director Toring was here to apprehend Thorgana—they didn’t need to know that he was also interested in Fenris, or why. The fewer eyes on Fenris, the better.

Once I was absolutely certain no one else was around, I left the closet, then crept down the hall. My bare feet sank into the plush carpet that ran the length of the chilly stone floor. I didn’t know exactly which room Garrett was in, but I didn’t need to—my nose led me right to him, following his masculine scent to a corner suite. Dammit. I couldn’t very well press my ear to the door out here—guards would see me coming down either of the two corridors that crossed here.

Good thing I brought my picks, I thought, moving to the room next to Garrett’s sitting room. My shifter eyes needed no additional light, and I was inside within seconds. I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could, then hurried over to the wall adjoining this room to Garrett’s so I could listen in.

“You may not be aware of it, Pillick, but there’s an ancient law forbidding mages to teach our lore to outsiders,” Garrett was saying, and I grinned a little—they were still up, just as I thought. Mages didn’t sleep much as a general rule, so Garrett must have decided to stay up late and plot with his assistant. “Lord Iannis, who is older than I by a considerable margin, must be perfectly aware of it. Yet it looks very likely that he has been teaching this pet shifter of his Loranian or magical theory. We came here to catch Thorgana Mills, but that does not mean we should simply overlook any other crimes that come to our notice.”

“Even if we could prove exactly where Fenris acquired his knowledge,” Harron said, sounding skeptical, “it would be a misdemeanor at best. Indicting Lord Iannis for such a small offense would only make us look petty, Sir. He is practically a war hero. Unless we find something much worse to charge him with, I would advise against it, from a public relations perspective.”

“Agreed,” Garrett said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. I was sure it rankled the hell out of him to hear his rival referred to as a war hero. “Let’s keep our eyes open, though. Lord Iannis may be perfectly innocent, of course, and his courage is beyond doubt, but I have a gut feeling that this foreign-born Chief Mage may not have the Federation’s best interests at heart, or respect our laws as much as he ought. The Minister is considering him as a possible successor, and we would be remiss if we did not exercise due diligence. We cannot afford to have a traitor holding the reins of our country.”

I clenched my fists as rage heated my blood, fighting against the urge to punch through the wall and grab Garrett by the throat. If I thought violence would solve anything, I would have already broken down his door. But Garrett was a powerful mage, and although I was strong, I was still an apprentice. I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a duel, and even if I did, the Minister would punish me for injuring or killing one of his highest officials. No, I had to outsmart Garrett, not out-muscle him.

“Of course, Director,” the assistant said smoothly, no doubt catching onto the undertones of Garrett’s statement. The bastard wasn’t really concerned about Iannis’s loyalties—anyone with half a brain could see that Iannis had the Federation’s best interests at heart. Garrett just wanted to eliminate him as a rival, and Pillick would be more than happy to assist, as it would put him that much closer to a position of power as well. “While we are here, I will do some digging into our host’s background and confirm there is nothing untoward.”

“Make sure you’re discreet,” Garrett warned. “It would be awkward if Lord Iannis or his staff were to learn that we are looking into him. I still feel we should focus our efforts on our host’s wolf-shifter friend to start with. I believe he spends a lot of time in the library, so perhaps the head librarian can tell us more about this highly unlikely scholarship of his.”