Mark of the Mage: Scribes of Medeisia Book I Page 21

  ***

  Maybe it was the trees that woke me next or maybe it was the odd, disoriented feeling in the pit of my stomach that still wouldn't let me feel comfortable in a place I did not feel at home. But either way, I awoke, the trees' murmuring both reassuring and annoying. Had I really lived my life until now never noticing the way the trees spoke, almost continuously?

  A movement outside made me freeze, my heart beating rapidly as I peered out into the night, my hands fisted against my stomach. There was no bright, burning fire now, although I could hear the occasional crackle from the dimly glowing timbers in the pyre behind my tent. But the darkness was offset by the full moon in the sky, the glowing orb shedding enough light to fill the clearing.

  There, beyond my tent, Kye stood shirtless, his trousers the only clothes he wore. His feet were bare, his hands slack where they hung by his sides. There was another scar on his back, silver in the moonlight where it ran from his left side down to the waistline of his pants. He was full of scars, Kye.

  I edged closer to the tent flap, noticing the way Kye stood, motionless, his eyes on the sky. My gaze followed his. A black shape moved across the moon. A dragon.

  My head was outside the tent now. I pushed myself upward, standing awkwardly, flinching when Kye's gaze moved from the moon to me. I may speak to the forest, but I had yet to learn how to move as soundlessly as the rebels surrounding me.

  “Feras?” I asked, my hands motioning at the sky. I didn't really know what else to say.

  Kye's dark eyes seemed to glint, the moon's reflection in his gaze.

  “He flies often at night,” Kye explained as I moved closer to him, keeping just enough distance so that I wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

  “And you watch him often?” I asked.

  Kye shook his head. “No. It is my time on watch.”

  He didn't say anything more, although he looked at the space I left between us before scanning the forest.

  “All is well,” the trees' voice said, and I shivered.

  “The forest is clear,” I muttered, and Kye's gaze moved back to me.

  I gestured at the trees. He understood and nodded, his shoulders relaxing. Without his shirt, the hard planes of his arms stood out in the white light, the scars a stark picture of his history. I fidgeted under his gaze.

  “The king has gathered a war council,” I blurted out.

  The words broke the tension.

  Kye stepped toward me, his eyes narrowed, his hands coming up to take me by the arms. I didn't move.

  “What? Where did you hear this?” Kye asked.

  I looked down at his hands, and he released me.

  “Ari. The falcon,” I answered warily. Kye no longer touched me, but he hadn't lowered his arms either. “She says Raemon meets with a council that includes my father.”

  “By Raheet,” Kye swore, one of his hands clenching as he cursed the God of War.

  My gaze moved back up, and I realized Kye's eyes were watching my face. I didn't look away.

  “Why don't you seek out help from Sadeemia?” I asked.

  It was the one thing that had been invading my thoughts since Ari's arrival into camp. If Raemon wanted to attack Sadeemia so badly, why didn't the rebels seek their aid?

  Kye's eyes moved over my face. “Because we have no proof, nothing to show them that Raemon intends to invade.”

  “Then we get it,” I said.

  Kye laughed, the sound harsh, finally releasing my arms and running his hands through his hair. “I've been trying. Raemon's inner circle is impossible to infiltrate.”

  I swallowed hard. “Maybe not. How long would it take him to invade Sadeemia, you think?”

  Kye's eyes had narrowed again. “Not as long as we'd like. Less than a year, maybe. Once he has a war council, he'll need to gather troops, train spies—”

  “He'll need plans, supplies. He may even need to make alliances with outside countries,” I cut in. “That will all take time. Maybe just enough.”

  Kye nodded. “I forget you bear the mark of the scribe.”

  I scowled. “It does not mean I am one. But I have lost many friends who were.”

  Kye grew silent. “We've all lost people.”

  I didn't argue with him. I knew I wasn't the only one who had suffered, but my loss was new. Fresh. Unbearable. He ought to know that. He'd been in the forest with me, in the employ of the king's army, a rebel spy. But I didn't say these things aloud. I may be having a moment of self-pity, but I was not a selfish person. I knew everyone here had lost something or someone in their lives. It was our right to pity ourselves only in private.

  “Raemon will need to create weaknesses in Sadeemia's alliances, find ways to damage their imports, to create need there,” I said, steering away from any more intimate conversation. Kye's gaze stayed on my face. “We need proof of Raemon's plans or there will be no way to stop him, to alert Sadeemia.”

  Kye must have seen something in my eyes because he leaned down, his face too close to mine. Pine and wood smoke invaded my senses.

  “What have you in mind, Drastona?” he asked.

  I swallowed. “I'll train. Give me one month to learn to use the sword, for my arms to get used to the bow. And then let Raemon's men take me prisoner.”

  Kye's eyes widened, his cheek jutting where he clenched his jaw.

  “No!” he said. “You have no idea what he would do to you. I've seen what he does to the marked. You grieve your maid, I even dare say you are haunted by her death, but her death is nothing compared to the torture I have seen. Nothing.”

  My eyes burned at the reminder. He was right. I was haunted. I could still hear Aigneis' screams in the back of my head, still thought of her when I stared into fire. I kept trying to think of good memories, but my mind seemed trapped in that desperate moment.

  “It would take longer than a month to get you ready for any kind of battle,” Kye added. “Do you understand me?”

  I nodded, holding my tongue because I'd known what kind of reaction I'd get from him. It would be the same with Lochlen. I had no doubt.

  “Give me a chance,” I said.

  Kye stared down at me. “It would be worse for you now, Drastona. His sorcerers would feel your power. You not only bear the mark of the scribe, you have the blood of the mage. You would die a hideous, gruesome death. And then he would go after your father.”

  He was right, but it still didn't deter me. I had more than one plan.

  “Then let me spy. You can't infiltrate his inner circle, but maybe a mage could. He wouldn't have to know me. I could go disguised.”

  Kye grabbed me by the arms again, his nose almost touching mine.

  “No. Do you understand me?”

  I let his eyes search mine, and then nodded. Four weeks. In four weeks, I would do something even if I had to do it alone.

  I pulled at Kye's hands, but he didn't release me. If anything, he pulled me closer.

  “One day you will forgive me, Drastona,” he whispered, his breath moving over my face. I inhaled sharply, my stomach tied in knots. My face was so close to his.

  “You watched her burn,” I whispered. “You held me down while they dug into my skin.”

  Kye shut his eyes. I was close enough to make out the delicate blue veins on his eyelids in the moonlight.

  “One day,” he repeated. “One day you will forgive me.”

  Behind us, someone stirred in their sleep and Kye released me. He took a step back. He was still too close, but neither of us backed away. Once again, I noted the moon's reflection in Kye's pupils, and in the reflection I could just make out a dragon as he flew across the moon.

  Part II

  Revolution