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“Well, not so innocent now was she?” Gwyn chuckled when she swung a small knife. The blade folded into the hilt. Clever. Useful.
I spun the blade between my fingers, grinning as I shoved it into the strap inside my boot and retrieved a small vial of a liquid potion. I removed the cap and inhaled.
One breath—wildflowers and fresh rain—was all it took before the flash of a hazy face, laughter, soft skin close to mine, and whispers against my ear, overcame my senses.
They lasted a mere heartbeat before the burn split down the center of my skull in a pain like the bone was pulling away from my scalp. I doubled over.
“Kage.” Asger gripped my arm.
“A hexia for certain,” Gwyn said, tossing aside a strange ball that squished between the fingers like sand before snapping back into shape.
“No.” I shook my head, holding the heel of my hand against my brow. “Simply brought another vision. The smell of the potion—skies, I’ve never had one come on so strong.”
Asger waved the vial under his nose, a scowl on his face. “Smells . . . nice, but I don’t recognize this elixir.”
The others attempted to name the potion, but failed. Gwyn huffed in frustration and turned away as though it had done her a great offense.
What sort of mage was our little wildling from the road?
Most mage folk could recognize certain elixirs and poisons after the first year of higher studies. This was new. Smooth like monkroot draught, a potion for affection. Clean like helis, a tonic that cleansed simple wounds.
Close, but I could not name the herbs and elements, only that the vial sent my pulse racing with somethingfamiliar.
A heavy knock sounded on the door. “Lord Kagesh.”
“I beg of you, Van, use the name my mother bestowed upon me.”
A throat cleared through the door. “I believe that is precisely what I did, My Lord.”
Gwyn snorted. “The old bastard will never descend to your hedonistic ways, Kage.”
Outside the bedchamber, Van stood, donned in his proper attire of a black tunic trimmed in gold with the oak tree emblem of the king stitched over his chest. The man had known me since childhood. From what I could remember, I’d thought him old as a boy, but in truth, Van only had a few silver tips to his beard and dark hair.
“What is it?”
“You’ve been summoned to dine for Havestia.”
“Why?”
“I do not question my future king.”
“You should.” I leaned against the doorframe. “It’s rather amusing to rile Destin. Is he not spending his Havestia with his many courtiers?”
Van sniffed and lifted his chin. “No, My Lord. He has a guest, and would have his brother make an appearance.”
Stepbrother. I ought to remind Van that Destin had no problem reminding every soul in the land I was not his blood.
“Well, if the prince demands it.” I offered a forced bow, reveling a bit when the corner of Van’s mouth twitched. “Then I shall be there shortly.”
“See that you are, My petulant Lord.”
“Ah, I’m so glad we’ve moved beyond pretenses, old man.”
Van said nothing, merely strode down the corridor.
“Princey calls?” Cy said, grinning when I closed the door.
I frowned. “You lot should get dressed.”
