He chuckles dreamily. “I love you, too.”
I shiver as I ease out of him. Reaching around, I loosen the ropes on his arms, and he lets out a hum of contentment as he’s freed. I spoon against his back as we fall into an easy sort of silence.
“Do you feel ready for this?” he asks at last.
I tighten my arms around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. In the days we’ve been planning, my visions, my dreams have all gone quiet. It’s the sign I’ve been needing that this is the right thing to do. And with him beside me, I feel like I can do anything.
“I’m ready.”
Nonnegotiable
Conflicts and misunderstandings between wizards are bound to arise. But it’s important to keep open and honest communication to resolve any issues.
Fundamentals of Magic by Eroland Lockhart
THORA’S A PUNCTUALone, I’ll give her that. She’s at the Crux precisely at first bell. I’ve barely sat down before she enters with a creak of armor and a clipped, “Good morning, Grandmaster.”
Arlon is sitting back in his chair, kaffa in hand, though he hasn’t touched his breakfast. To be fair, neither have I. Today’s task weighs like a rock in my stomach.
“Ah. You really did mean first thing,” Arlon says before he motions to the chair next to me. “Please, sit. Would you like something to eat?”
“No, thank you. I would, however, like to get this over with,” Thora says, crossing her arms over her leather cuirass. “I’ll remind you that we are leaving in only a matter of days.”
“And I’ll remindyouthat you didn’t need to come all the way out here. I said I could handle it,” Arlon says, dropping his professional politeness. He takes another sip of kaffa, completely unaffected by the Guard Captain’s glower. “You can either join me or just loom there, but I’m finishing this cup first, Thora.”
Thora rolls her eyes but must decide the fight isn’t worth it. She takes the seat beside me, and I hide my grin behind a sip from my own mug. Knowing Arlon, he’s not going to rush for her sake.
“Would you like a cup, Captain?” I ask politely.
Her scowl only gets more pronounced as she must come to the same realization. “Fine.” I’m graced with a tight smile. “Thank you, Galiva.”
I get to my feet, catching Arlon’s grateful look. “I’ll be right back.”
Gods only know what they say to one another behind closed doors, but I don’t linger to find out. Instead, I head to the mess hall. It’s growing busier by the moment, a slow trickle of people heading in for breakfast.
I fill a mug of kaffa, and though something tells me Thora takes it black, I pour a small cup with milk and grab a bit of sugar just in case. I gather everything and am just wondering what else I can do to delay returning to the endless sniping match between Arlon and Thora when a voice says, “Hey, Galiva, thanks for looking at that anchor point the other day.”
“Anytime, Emil,” I say and step aside to allow the shorter wizard at the steaming kaffa pots. “Any issues since?”
“Not a one,” he says, flashing me a grin as he fills his cup. “And Sergei and I have been testing it... pretty heavily.”
I chuckle even as something catches my eye through the window to the kitchen.
What the hell are Olbric and Dom doing in there? Olbric looks impatient, his eyes darting around before Dom leans over to whisper something to him. For some reason, he’s wearing his magiline tunic, a full necklace of spells hanging around his neck.
“Excuse me, Emil,” I say, setting my tray down on the table as unease pools in my stomach. I step closer to the window as a little cook appears, carrying two hefty parcels bundled neatly in cloth. She hands them to Olbric with a smile.
Travel rations. And not for just a night or two. No, that’s enough to cover them forweeks.
Panic grips me as I turn and run back towards Arlon’s office, Thora’s kaffa abandoned. Did Olbric find out about the terms for the talks? Is he running?
There are too many questions, but there’s only one solution. For the sake of the peace talks, Olbriccan’tleave.
I skid to a stop in front of Arlon’s door, panting hard. Arlon sets his cup down, already half to his feet. “Galiva?”
“Come with me.”
He circles his desk, kaffa forgotten. Thora is quick to follow as she gets up. “What’s going on?”
