Read Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) Online

Authors: Jenna Van Vleet

Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) (21 page)

“Stars, mate!” Shaun coughed. “By my lady, what is t’is?”

“Whisky.”

“I like it,” he grinned. “Oh, but I wanted to ask you for your permission to court Mikelle.”

“I…beg your pardon?”

“You are t’ closest t’ing she has to family here, and it’s proper to ask t’ dad for his blessing.”

“I was under the impression you…already were…you know.”

“Sleeping wit’ her? No, mate. She said ot’erwise?”

“She…alluded to it. Something about being flexible.”

Shaun laughed. “No, no, mate. I say not’in’ about tonight, t’ough.”

Gabriel raised his glass. “To things I don’t need to know.”

Shaun drank to that and set his cup down. Gabriel refilled it to keep him there. He liked Shaun’s company and unethical approach to life. Unconsciously he knew he needed to fill the spot Balien left. Shaun sat back and nursed his drink with a sigh.

“Mikelle told me why she came to Anatoly.”

“Did she? How much do you know?”

He waved his free hand. “T’ Battle of t’ Stars, t’ Castrofax, t’ Silex wards, and t’ spear t’at killed you. She’s still got it, you know. She told me
why
she went to Kilkiny but left out if she made it…t’at far. How many did you have?”

Gabriel coughed and wiped his lips. “I didn’t
have
any.”

Shaun regarded him thoughtfully. “How many had
you
?”

Gabriel downed his dram and poured another. “Nine.”


Nine
? Great stars above, mate,
nine
? Willingly?”

“Not one.”

Shaun ran a hand through his hair. “Have you ever…?”

“No.”

“By my lady,” he breathed and downed his drink, snapping it on the desk for another.

“In Anatoly we reserve copulation for marriage, but Arconia views it differently. It caused quite an incident. Two powerful Queens at each other’s throats is an amusing and dangerous thing to watch. And no, Mikelle was not one of them.”

“Why did t’ey do it?”

“For children.”

“And did t’ey get any?” he asked, sipping his drink.

“Eleven.”

The sip of whisky shot over Shaun’s shirt. He wiped it off and silently counted on his fingers. “Twins? Triplets?”

“Two sets of twins.”

“How is t’at physically possible? Every lass?”

“Class Tens are…mean to reproduce.”

Shaun looked alarmed. “What about Class Nines?” he whispered.

“Not the same.”

“Good,” he breathed. “I’ve only had two lasses and no children t’at I know of. I always t’ought it strange, but t’ noble Gaelsins viewed copulation as vulgar—which is probably why t’ King has t’ree wives and no children—much of t’ population followed. We Mages do as we please.”

“Good thing, or I would have no one to save.” He swirled the dark yellow liquid.

“Your lady love knows?”

“She does.”

“Does anyone else know besides Mikelle?” Gabriel shook his head. Shaun’s brows went up. “And you told me?” He leaned back. “T’anks, mate.”

“You’ve earned my trust,” Gabriel said and drained his raised glass. “I won’t keep you from Mikelle.”

“I have your blessing, t’en?”

“Stars, of course. Try and keep her in line.”

Shaun laughed amusedly. “Aye, mate, I’ll try.” He downed his drink and stood, bracing his hand on the back of the chair and wavered. “T’at stuff is dangerous. I like it. Evening, Gabriel.”

“Good night, Shaun.”

 

 

 

 

Virgil leaned on the windowsill and folded his arms as he peered outside. Rabier was resplendent in brightly-colored flags wavering in the ocean breeze. They dotted throughout the city as it prepared for Eventide. The air had just begun to relinquish its frigid hold on the land as it made way for spring. Smoke still rose from chimneys and filled the early morning with a gray hue.

Shshonan Palace was alive with activity even this early as the stewards and pages prepared to receive guests. Arconia had eight provinces, four in the great islands, three in the main land, and one in the Hundred Isles. Each was ruled by a Duke. Dignitaries from each province, and Lords from Bodelaine and Desuldane would arrive over the next few days, but this was the first time in many years a Queen from Anatoly would join them.

Virgil’s heart leapt at the thought. It had been months since he saw the golden lady of Anatoly. The girl everyone thought dead for nine years, the woman whose presence he relished, and whom without he felt unfulfilled. Queen Robyn was a beautiful, generous person with fascinating appeal. She and her kingdom were ever alluring to the Prince who would likely never assume the throne. Prince Quinn was already married with children, and his lineage secured.

Yet, Arch Mage Maxine’s words haunted him since the night she visited.
‘There is a way to attain a kingdom much larger and greater so easily, but at what cost?’
He looked to the spot behind a tapestry where he had hidden the silver and black rings. Not only could he obtain the woman and her kingdom, he could
rule
it just by giving her the instructions he desired. If Arconia needed more men, he could ship off a legion in a heartbeat. If they needed resources, he could deliver, and in return Arconia would help him. Never would an alliance be so strong.

The only problem was Head Mage Gabriel. If he discovered the ring, Virgil would be banished back to his country and lose everything he worked for. Furthermore, the idea of putting a Mage in a Castrofax was daunting and macabre. No one had worn the Glittering Castrofax in an Age, and it sat displayed behind thick glass in the treasury. It was not meant to be worn again, but if Gabriel was the only thing standing between Virgil and his throne, he would have to be eliminated.

He heard a whisper of fabric rustling behind him, and he spun, pulling his belt knife from its sheath. The intruder was the Arch Mage Maxine. She stood far too close behind him. He took a step back and stalled the weapon before it could inflict damage.

She smiled at him, wearing a corset that hugged her hips snugly and pressed everything up to make his eyes wander. “Hello, Prince Virgil,” she said after a moment, and his eyes shot back up to her face, embarrassed.

“You really should knock,” he said, sheathing his knife.

“I go where I please,” she said with a thin smile. “The Queen should be here any day. Are you prepared?”

His eyes dashed to the tapestry and back to her. “I am.”

“How will you do it?” She sashayed to the nearest chair and elegantly sat.

Virgil leaned back on the windowsill. “I plan to try and woo her.”

“She is fully devoted to that raven-haired creation in Jaden.”

“Yes, but I want to try before I submit her to slavery the rest of her life.”

Maxine sighed and studied his face. “How will you do it?”

“Exult her, dote on her. I have rigged the archery competition.”

She picked at the wood on the armrest and bit her lip as she thought. “You need to show your prowess compared to the Head Mage.”

“I could fight in a tournament.”

She shook her head, “Something bigger.” She leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Coyly biting her lip, she finally fixed her cool blue eyes on him. “She has been with that man for ten years and has seen things you cannot imagine. Show her something the Head Mage has not.”

Virgil rolled his head around and cracked his neck. “There is not a thing I could possibly do then.”

“Oh, Virgil, use your imagination,” she said with a sultry whisper. “Shall I show you a few things?” She stood rapidly and crossed the space between them in three steps. She pressed herself against him, but he grabbed her shoulders and stopped her forward advancement. She tittered at his wide-eyed expression. “My dear boy, do I still frighten you?” she whispered.

He made no reply. Soldiers never showed their fear.

She broke away with a knowing grin. “I will check back in a week. Have something good to report,” she slipped a hand through his defenses and struck a finger down his cheek. With a wink, her hair and eyes became frighteningly white, and she vanished. Virgil’s heart raced partially from adrenaline…but mostly from desire.

 

 

Chapter 24

The afternoon sun beat the deck of the ship fiercely, and the cold wind whipped the sails, making the prow an uncomfortable place to stand. Arconia was finally in sight. It had been such a boring journey that anything other than the unending blue was a welcomed sight. Robyn stood with bright eyes as the wind tore at her tunic. A maid stood beside her, anxious to get her into a dress now that land was in sight, but Robyn could wait.

Tiny islands dotted the landscape. Most were uninhabited by wild sheep and goats. Farmers on larger islands would sail to them come shearing season, but for the rest of the year they remained untouched by man. A small crest of green peeked out from the frothing deeps to her left. It flocked with gulls but nothing larger.

She turned to her tight-lipped maid. “Very well,” she sighed. The older woman nodded with a breath of relief and followed Robyn into her cabin. She dressed her with a heavy blue-and-crimson gown encrusted with pearls on the collar and shoulders. It was bulky, and Robyn said goodbye to her freedom as they laced the bodice tightly. A second maid brushed her long wind-tangled hair while others stepped in to braid and pin it up in spirals. There was room to slip a slender golden coronet around the middle of her brow. It reminded her of Balien’s crown, and she closed her eyes to keep the emotions restrained. Weeks later, the thought of his loss still cut her fresh.

One maid dabbed powder over her face while another painted her lips with beeswax. A spritz of perfume tickled her neck, and a band of clacking pearls wrapped around her wrist while someone touched up the shape of her nails. She opened her eyes to see a Queen before the mirror and wondered how she got there. Her arms were exposed, and the white vine-like pattern of electrical scarring up her left was a stark contrast against the dark fabric. It started suddenly just below her wrist bones, cutting off where her hand had been severed. She had gotten used to the new hand days after Gabriel reformed it, and it made her think of him constantly. She dearly missed him on the ocean.

The maids tittered softly as they worked, talking of Arconia and all it could offer them. Robyn said nothing and watched the ocean from the porthole in her room. Gray shapes of distant islands passed slowly. She longed to be on shore.

Her maids insisted she stay in her room to keep her hair and face fresh, and she grudgingly obliged. The eldest maid had been careful to walk wherever Robyn went and shade her with a parasol, so her skin would not darken like a common worker. But the maid could not climb the rigging, and Robyn attained just enough color to avoid alarm.

A knock sounded on the door. “Coming up on the harbor, Your Grace,” the Captain said. Robyn followed before her maids could give a displeased glance. One grabbed a parasol and raced after her. Robyn’s slippers moved soundlessly on the deck, and she stood beside the Captain, looking out over the encroaching harbor.

Rabier was built around a large bay with the palace in the north peeking out of the haze. The whole city fluttered warm hues from a thousand-thousand flags, rising and falling like a great beast gently breathing. The harbor peaked with two massive lighthouses on opposite sides, and within the calm bay, a thousand ships moored. Grand ships certainly carrying dignitaries sat closest to the main road while merchants, war vessels, fishermen, and farms dotted the embracing harbor walls.

“Shouldn’t be too much longer,” the Captain said, angling the wheel. Robyn had learned much of sailing during the three weeks but had very little opportunity to practice. Her maids insisted she not toughen her hands after they found her in the mast lashing up sails. The sailors had been aloof and wary of her at first, but as soon as she changed into her tunic, they welcomed her. Some even pointed to an eye when they saw her, a universal signal for the raven she shot through the eye when battling Virgil.

Robyn waited patiently as the ship came slowly to moor. The faces on the docks sharpened from dots of cream to actual people. The Anatoly flag, a golden eagle with a crown suspended above it over a field of red, flew from the mast to alert the harbormasters of her arrival. Already people in fine garb stood at her dock.

She watched as a white mare with a long wavy mane thundered around the harbor. A man in red sat atop her with his cloak flying out behind. Even at this distance, she knew it was Virgil. He reigned his mount up at the end of the dock and dismounted as only a seasoned soldier could. He wore a rich red double-breasted coat highlighted with black and gold slashes, and black trousers with wrapped boots that made no sound.

He beamed when he saw her, his smile breaking his lips. Below her the soldiers secured the ropes until a gangplank was finally lowered. Virgil appeared over the side a moment later and stepped on deck to greet her.

“Your Grace,” he beamed and bowed lavishly, flicking his cloak. “It is my great honor to welcome you to Rabier.”

“Prince Virgil,” she smiled and offered her hand to kiss. Before he could let go, she pulled him into an unexpected embrace. “It is so wonderful to see you.”

“It has been too long,” he sighed as he let her go, looping her hand over his elbow. “Was your journey safe?”

“Altogether too safe and boring.”

He escorted her onto the gangplank and down onto the docks as those waiting flourished their capes in bows and curtsies. “The carriage should arrive momentarily.”

“I am happy to walk a little,” she replied, holding securely onto his arm as she got used to the idea of a stagnant foundation. He had not changed in appearance. His tawny hair swept off to the left, his muscles pulled against his clothing, and his jaw was set in confidence.

“I am glad your journey was safe. I hope we can entertain you far better than the ship.”

“I am certain of it. I was worried we would arrive too late.”

“No, you made it a day early. We start tomorrow.” His arm flexed as he pulled her around a rope coil. “How fairs Anatoly?”

“It…” she trailed off.
‘Balien.’
With the loss of her Commander-Prince, the duty should have fallen to the next in line, Nolen Novacula. Since he was stripped of his title, and she was not married, there was no one to fill the spot. She appointed General Calsifer until a better solution could be reached, but there was no better solution. “My brother Balien was murdered.” She managed to say without choking.

“Oh,
Robyn
,” he breathed. “I am wounded for you.”

“As am I.”

He covered her hand with his and squeezed. His downturned face looked truly upset. “Who did it?”

“Mage Nolen Novacula.”

Virgil nodded knowingly. He spent enough time in Kilkiny to know that name and what it implied. “Did the Head Mage take vengeance?”

“We do not know where he is.”

He shook his head angrily. “I wish I did.”

She patted his hand supportively. A golden carriage stood around a corner pulled by two teams of black horses. Virgil unlatched the door open and helped her.

“Will you join me?” she asked. He gave her a surprised look, then climbed in to sit across from her. He knocked a tune on the backboard for the driver and snapped his fingers out the window at the horse, and they all took off together at a trot.

“What kind of trouble would you like me to get you in while here?” he asked with a coy smile. “Sneak you into the city for ale? Start a knife fight?”

She chuckled. “I am looking forward to normalcy, I think.”

“Not even an archery tournament while disguised as one of my soldiers?”

“Oh, most definitely,” she laughed. “But not in disguise.”

“My brother still does not believe me when I retell the story.”

“You told him?” she gasped.

“I told
everyone
!” he laughed. “Every soldier in my faction knows it!”

“Yes, even the sailors on my ship knew it. I shall blame you for telling them,” she grinned. “I think it has managed to escape my Advisor’s ears so far.”

“Oh, what a shame. I sent her a letter just last week detailing it,” he smiled. She reached over and slapped his leg, making him laugh all the more. “How I have missed you, Robyn. The women here are so narrow-minded and uncultured. They care more of hair and garments and jewels than adventure and excitement.”

“Why, do you not think my hair looks lovely?”

He sent her a flat glare. “How is the Head Mage?”

“Ever so busy as always. He discovered a city on the other side of our Greynadaltynes and rescued their Mage population. Several thousand more Mages now occupy Castle Jaden.”

Virgil looked surprised and alarmed. “What does this mean for him?”

“Last I heard, he Classed several Eights, and no one lower than a Five. It means he has a powerful force to aid him.”

“That is…wonderful,” he breathed. “Has any progression been made with the Arch Mages?”

The cab reverberated the clacking of wooden wheels over stone slabs as they wound upward to the palace. “Not yet. You have not been bothered have you?”

He shook his head, his locks flopping over his forehead. He brushed them back absently.

“It makes me nervous when they are so silent,” she confessed as the carriage bounced over a rough stone.

He nodded, “I hope you will join me for dinner tonight. My father and brother will be hosting a supper for the nobles. I would be honored if you would sit with me at the head table.”

“I would be delighted. I am eager to meet your family. Do they also know about…” she trailed off and touched a finger just below her eye.

He chuckled. “No, I thought that would be a good story for you to open with.”

“Nonsense. That is for you and me…and every soldier.”

He laughed, his face beaming as she glared. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

The carriage reverberations changed as the stones smoothed, and Robyn looked out to the black and white Shshonan Palace looming before her. She gasped in delight as she surveyed the lovely pear-shaped roofs, the spiraling colored tiles, and the numerous towers. Virgil leaned closer to her face.

“Your room is up there,” he pointed to a checkered tower, “with an exquisite view of the ocean.”

“I look forward to a plush bed that does not rock.”

He smiled, “None of that here unless it’s wished for.”

She flicked his neck, making him smile all the more.

The team reigned up, and a plump steward in green rushed to open the door. Virgil stepped out and extended a hand to Robyn. She took it graciously, looping it through his arm once more as he led her towards the beautiful palace. The massive doors opened when the soldiers outside saw him, and a large atrium unfolded for her.

Servers stood calmly holding trays of dew-drenched goblets and breads and fruit. Virgil picked up a goblet and handed it to her with an insistence that she try the nectar-like liquid. It was refreshing and sweet, a mixture of apple, peach, and white wine with something else to make it sparkle as it went down.

Virgil strolled her through the atrium, and she admired the twin spiraling staircases that wrapped and intertwined up the building and vanishing in a circlet of light in the roof. Lanterns casted golden light over the arching hallways. It reflected yellow flames over the floor tiles that jumped and vanished as they slowly walked. The room echoed murmurs of voices and soft footsteps.

“How long do you plan to stay?” he asked as he walked her through a large gathering room scattered with people in fine clothing. Some paused to look at them.

“A week or two. The Head Mage will shift me back when I summon him. Until then I have an available schedule.” That reminded her to let Gabriel know she arrived safely.

Virgil smiled and waved two fingers at someone who raised their goblet to him. “I hope you can stay awhile. There is so much of Arconia I want to show you.”

A slender woman in green stepped out from a cluster of people and gave Robyn a bow. Robyn recognized her immediately, her curly red hair unmistakable.

“Mage Bianji, a pleasure to see you again.”

“I am honored you remember me, Your Grace.”

“I never forget the Head Mage’s allies.”

“Stars, Head Mage,” Bianji smiled. “I cannot get over how high he rose. How is he, truly?”

“Truly, he is overworked, but he maintains it all well.”

“Will he be attending the festival?”

Robyn shrugged, “His obligations keep him in Jaden, but let me see if he is available.” She released Virgil’s arm and spun the ring on her middle finger, clicking four sliding parts into place with a snap. “Give him a few moments. He has been Classing new Mages lately.”

“Many?” Bianji asked.

Robyn took Virgil’s arm up again and explained in detail the discovery of Tintagaelsing. A woman suddenly screamed, and Robyn saw Gabriel materialize before them. He looked regal in white, wearing a floor-length coat open to reveal a brocaded vest. It was still so strange to see all but his skin blanched white, but he quickly released Void, and his eyes and hair retained their usual color.

“Robyn,” he breathed with a smile. She broke from Virgil’s arm to embrace him. “I was beginning to worry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you worried the moment I set foot on that ship,” she whispered and brushed her lips over his cheek.

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