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He sank into the chair vacated by Idris, sat back and regarded me. “I have need to determine what will shield you from reflexively drawing upon the grove energy. Then, I will remove the mark. Rhyzkahl has not only sent a demand but now knows the mark has been touched. He will not delay long. We go to a place where he will not easily track you.”
I remained silent for a moment while I processed this, more than a little surprised that he’d bothered to explain this much to me. I finally took a steadying breath. “I know I won’t be able to talk you out of this,” I said, more calmly than I felt. “But can you please find a way to do it…so it doesn’t hurt so much?”
“I do not know that such is possible,” he replied evenly. “Not with the specialized nature of that mark.”
I could feel my mouth tighten. “Well then, why can’t you simply knock me out or something?”
“Were it possible to do it with you unconscious, I would,” he said in the same calm tone he’d used after I’d broken my leg. “The mark is deeply tied into your consciousness—moreso than a typical mark.”
I shoved a hand through my hair, frustrated. “Fine. Whatever.” I scowled. “Then let’s get this shit over with.”
“We wait upon Idris,” he replied, unruffled. “It will not be long.”
He fell silent, apparently deep in contemplation. My own thoughts drifted, and I leaned back in the chair. Shadow memories and dream fragments flickered at the edge of my mind.
Lord Mzatal approaches! I hurriedly close my journal to hide my folly, more pages filled with doodles than glyph patterning.
“Elinor, stand,” he says, holding his hand out. Heart sinking, I give him the journal, tremble as he pages through it.
He looks up, eyes narrowed in…anger? Disdain? I cannot tell.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
My breath catches. “To train, my lord.” I fight to keep my voice steady. “To learn to be a summoner.”
His mouth tightens as he holds the journal up. “This indicates otherwise. Gather your belongings and prepare to travel.”
I stare at him, stricken. “No, please, my lord.” I cannot breathe, but if I faint it will only make it worse. “Please…don’t send me away. I’ll study harder, I swear it!”
Lord Mzatal tucks the journal under his arm, turns and walks away, hands clasped behind his back. “Go do as you are told, child.”
I frowned as the memory faded. Big surprise. Mzatal was a dick to Elinor as well.
Lord Rhyzkahl’s arm is around my waist, and I think surely I must be in a dream. “I would have you train with me for a time,” he tells me. “And continue with Szerain as well, of course.”
“Yes,” I breathe. Train with him? Be with him? How could I possibly say no?
He strokes the back of his fingers over my cheek and smiles at me. “I will go speak to Szerain of the final arrangements.” Then his lips brush mine, and I think I will surely die of pleasure.
I blinked, somewhat off balance by the different feel of the two memories. But it was clear that Rhyzkahl definitely had some sort of interest in her.
“Rhyzkahl and Elinor,” I said. “Did they have a relationship?”
Mzatal returned his focus to me. “He favored her.”
I waited. “That’s all?”
“She held great affection for him,” he said. “And he favored her.” He shifted, crossed his legs. “She trained with me for a short time, then with Szerain, and finally with Rhyzkahl.”
“And she died when the gate collapsed?”
“She died during that ritual, yes,” he replied. “In the chamber of your arrival here.”
Memories flickered annoyingly, telling me that there had to be more to it. “How could it have gone wrong so badly?”
He shook his head. “I do not know the trigger event, though once it cascaded, it went quickly.” A shimmer of anger or frustration passed over his face. “If Szerain knows it, he has kept it well hidden.”
I kept my face as composed as possible. “And where is he now?”
