Flamecaster (Shattered Realms #1)(115)

There followed four more, three men and a woman, who took their places just inside the door to her room, as if standing guard. And, finally, Evan Strangward, wearing a knee-length coat over his clothes.

Definitely not a rescue, then.

Strangward turned and spoke hurriedly to someone out in the corridor. Looking through the doorway past him, Jenna saw that it was Destin Karn. Karn nodded at whatever the mage had said and pulled the door shut.

Had the king changed his mind about the interview Strangward had requested? If so, why was this happening in the middle of the night? And where were the blackbirds?

Strangward stood, feet braced apart, hands on hips, and studied her. She felt self-conscious, standing there in her nightclothes, the wind whipping her gown around her legs, wishing she had a robe to put on. She tried not to look at her rumpled bed.

Jenna raised the lamp. “Stay back,” she said, “or I’ll use this.” It probably wasn’t a very effective threat against a mage with a sword.

“Jenna,” he said. “I apologize for the late-night visit, but we are running out of time. Your king has forced my hand.”

Not my king, Jenna thought. “What do you mean?”

“I had meant to take you back with me and so have the time to find out more about you. From the looks of things, that might not happen.”

Jenna stared at him, her mind racing. Did that mean that the deal was off? Adam had said they hadn’t come to terms. There was something furtive about Strangward’s expression and the way he kept looking at the door. His guard stood clustered, fondling the hilts of their curved swords, their bodies rigid with tension.

“Does the king know you’re here?” Jenna said, taking a shot in the dark.

Strangward shrugged, rubbed his nose, and said, “No. He doesn’t.”

“You’re not afraid that I’ll scream and bring the guard running?”

“That’s possible, but not too likely,” Strangward said. “We’ve dispatched the guards outside your door. Since this is the only occupied room in this tower, I doubt you’ll be heard, especially with the storm going on. All in all, it seemed a tolerable risk.” He gestured toward her, an invitation. “Would you like to give it a go? Screaming, I mean?”

It’s not like she would feel any safer with Montaigne’s men in the room. At least this way, she might learn something useful.

“No,” she said. “I suppose not.”

“Good,” he said. “Shall we sit?” He gestured toward the chair by the hearth.

She was just stubborn enough that she sat on the edge of the hearth rather than in the chair.

Touching his amulet, Strangward kindled the logs in the fireplace with a gesture, then sat down on the hearth as well, a few feet away from her.

“If certain people knew that it was this easy to slip into the palace uninvited, the king would have been dead a long time ago,” Jenna said.

To her surprise he laughed, long and hard. “You really don’t like him, do you?” he said, wiping at his eyes.

Jenna breathed in through her nose. He had a wild scent about him, like sunlight and rain in the dust, and storms coming in from the sea. It was familiar, like a taut line that connected the two of them together.

They couldn’t possibly have met before . . . could they?

“Have you ever been to Delphi?” she asked, extending her hands toward the fire, warming them.

“No,” he said, leaning back against the fireplace and crossing his legs at the ankle. Although he must have been in a hurry, he made a show of making himself at home. “I have not. Why do you ask?”

“I keep wondering if we’ve met before.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Strange. I was thinking the same thing. Your eyes are memorable. Like cat’s eyes.”

“So I’m told,” Jenna said.

“Perhaps,” he said, “we met in a dream.”

“I am not a dreamer,” Jenna lied. “You said you wanted to talk to me. What about?”

He sat up then, uncrossed his ankles, and planted his feet on the floor, a signal that he was getting down to business. “Let me see the magemark again.”

Jenna gathered her hair into her fist, lifted it away from her neck, then turned her back so the emissary could see.

He reached out and put his hand on her bare shoulder, turning her a bit more. The fingers of his other hand, warm and dry, stinging with magic, traced the pattern just below her hairline. She shivered, feeling the gooseflesh rise under his hand.

“Hmm,” he said.

Now he closed both hands on her shoulders, and she felt a whisper of power as he sent it into her. She knew he was trying to use magic in order to get the truth from her, just as Karn had done. She gritted her teeth, but put up with it, thinking that if he learned something, he’d share it with her.

“You’re not a mage,” he said finally, sounding surprised.

“I’m not a mage,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t Karn tell you that? I would have told you that, too, if you’d asked.”

“What kind of magic do you have, then?”

“What makes you think I have magic?”

“The empress is hunting you for a reason. Since she’s greedy for power, I assume that you have something she wants.”