“Leaving.”
It’s not Arlon who looks at me through the sending, but the Grandmaster, his face hard as stone. “Olbric said you’re heading home.”
My heart twists. “Will you let him come with me?”
“No.” The word snuffs my last hope like a candle, but Arlon isn’t done. “And you need to comebackto the Crux, Dom.”
“I can’t,” I say. “I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s not up for discussion, Dominai,” a voice says before Captain Thora’s face appears in the ripple of the sending. “You will return to the Crux immediately.”
My stomach plummets. Why the fuck is the Royal Guard involved? But knowing they are adds a new sense of urgency to my dread.
“I can’t. I have to go,” I say, trying to keep my panicked voice under control. “I’ll be back in a few months.”
I swipe my hand through the spell, and the Captain’s sharp response is lost as the magic breaks apart. The silence left behind is deafening.
Around me, a breeze whispers through the trees, sending leaves scattering. A shiver travels up my back before Valar lets out a quiet, anxious sound.
I move to her, grateful for a task to focus on. I automatically change out her bit and reins for a halter and lead rope. When I grab Olbric and mine’s stashed supplies from the tree, she doesn’t balk as I fasten the packs to her saddle. Without Olbric, she can stand to carry most of it.
There’s no room for doubts. No room for second guesses. If I turn back now, that’s it, and I can’t shake away the weight of my own declaration.
I have to do this.
Once everything is settled, I climb onto Mo’s back, Valar’s lead in hand. Then, I turn down the fork towards the mountain road, alone.
Fractured
When trust is broken, it can be a damnably difficult thing to rebuild.
Magic Philosophy by Namina Kimathi
WHEN I ENTER ARLON’Soffice, he’s standing behind his desk, his focus devoted to the piece of paper in his hand. In his other, his thumb worries the familiar leather of Dom’s collar.
I freeze in the doorway, dread gripping tight. Olbric had said Dom wasn’t planning on leaving for good, but... I have my doubts.
“I found it on Dom’s bed,” Arlon says without looking up.
“What’s it say?”
“That he’s sorry. That he’ll be back. He has questions about his magic and wants to find his mother, just as Olbric said.” He tosses the note across his desk to me, and I quickly scoop it up to read. “I have a feeling there’s more they aren’t telling us, but I can’t very well enchant Olbric to ask.”
Anger rests heavy in his voice, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it too. That the two of them would just waltz off into the mountains without so much as a word? Toeitherof us? It’s like a punch in the stomach.
“So,” I sigh. “Who are we sending after him?”
“Weare not sending anyone,” Arlon says as a whole new frustration layers over his scowl.
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s saying. “Wait, Thora wants to send one of her guards?!”
“Has already sent,” Arlon corrects before he sets Dom’s collar gingerly down on the top of his desk. “He left yesterday. I tried to talk her out of it. Tried to get her to let me sendanyoneelse, but the Captain wouldn’t hear it. She wanted one of her people to handle it.”
The blatant overreach makes me gape. A runaway wizard rests firmly in the ‘magical matter’ category, and yet. “Who?”
“The one who was on duty. Who stopped Olbric from leaving.” Arlon wracks his memory for a name before saying, “Nikolai. According to Thora, he’s one of her most capable.”
It’s been two days since Dom’s exit from the Crux, but the ripples still haven’t settled. Everyone is antsy in the wake of it, and I’ve been busy fielding questions about the Royal Guard, about the peace talks, about Dom. It’s been exhausting to say the least, in large part because I haven’t been able to give many answers.
