Maggie Furey - Aurian

Aurian’s eyes widened with surprise at his refusal. She got to her feet, confronting the Archmage, her jaw jutting stubbornly. “I don’t see why not. It seems a perfect solution to me. Please, Miathan.”

“Aurian, no. I shall find you another servant, but Anvar is most unsuitable. What he needs is discipline.”

“Discipline, my eye!” Aurian snapped. “He’s had too much discipline, if you ask me. What he needs is kindness!”

“I will be the judge of that!” The very air seemed to crackle and spark as the two Mages stood, eye to eye, glaring furiously at one another, while Anvar held his breath.

“Aurian,” Forral intervened urgently, “perhaps the Archmage is right. If he’s truly dangerous—”

“Don’t you start!” Aurian snapped at the startled swordsman. “I’m absolutely sick of the pair of you! I’m no longer a child, to be constantly deferring to your so-called wisdom.” Her voice curdled with scorn. “I’m right in this case, I know it. I want to help this poor man—to restore the honor of the Magefolk. It’s our fault that he ended up this way. But instead of letting me trust my judgment, all I get from you two is specious quibbles! It’s pathetic!”

Miathan looked thunderous. “Aurian!” he roared. “How dare you speak to me in that fashion! Get back to the Academy at once!”

“I will not!” Aurian shouted. “You may rule the Academy, but you don’t rule the world, and you don’t rule me! My father and my mother left, and so can I!”

Miathan went white at her words, and Anvar was puzzled by the sudden flicker of panic in his eyes. Abruptly, he seemed to shrink. “Very well, my dear,” he said. “Since it obviously means so much to you, Anvar is yours.”

Aurian seemed staggered by his sudden capitulation. As the tension drained from the room, she blushed, shamefaced. “Miathan, thank you,” she said softly. “You’re so good to me. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, and I’m truly sorry.”

“So am I,” Miathan said feelingly. He held out his arms, and Aurian ran to hug him. “I’ll make him behave,” she promised. “I swear I will.”

Miathan looked at her gravely. “Indeed you must. You are now responsible for this man, and I hold you answerable for his conduct. If he misbehaves—he goes straight back to the kitchens!” He glowered at Anvar. “Anvar, I trust you will not abuse the Lady Aurian’s kindness.”

Anvar, meeting that steely gaze, shivered.

Miathan smiled coldly. “Now, before I permit you to enter this lady’s service, you must swear, before these witnesses, that you will not try to escape again.”

Anvar froze. Trapped! The Mage was smiling at him encouragingly. Unwittingly, she had trapped him with her kindness! He had no choice, and he knew it. With a sinking heart, he gave his word.

The Archmage was seething as he returned to the Academy through the snowy streets. How dare Aurian defy him! And over his own, accursed half-breed bastard! Miathan ground his teeth. He wanted to kill Anvar, to bury once and for all the mistake of his younger days—but he could not. If Anvar should die, then the power that he had stolen from the wretch would be lost for good. Miathan had to keep him alive. He needed that power.

Aurian’s words still stung. So I don’t rule the world, he thought. Well, one day I will—then Aurian will pay for her defiance! And it was fitting that Anvar should provide the means. Miathan smiled. With the additional powers he had stolen, nothing could stop him. It was simply a case of biding his time and waiting for the right moment to strike.

Miathan was obsessed with power. His ambition was to restore the great old days when Magefolk had used their power to rule the Mortal race. To achieve this, he had wormed his way into the position of Archmage with merciless cunning and stealth. He and Geraint had been friends—until Aurian’s father, with his subversive affection for Mortals, had been nominated as the next Archmage. It had been simple to engineer the “accident” that had removed his rival, but Miathan had not reckoned with the guilt that had pursued him at the murder of another Mage. In atojjgment, he had originally planned to make Aurian his successor, but now he had evolved a new plan for Geraint’s daughter. He wanted her at his side, as his consort— and in his bed. A surge of desire consumed the Archmage at the thought of Aurian. It had turned him cold when she threatened to leave.

Miathan now knew that he had erred in bringing Forral to Nexis. He had thought that by using Aurian as a lever, he would retain control of the Garrison’s voice on the Ruling Council, but his plan had backfired. Because of her allegiance to her Mortal friend and teacher, his pupil was becoming increasingly intractable, and her loyalty, which he had fostered with such painstaking care over the years, was weakening. Unfortunately, there was no way at present to solve the problem. If he was implicated in Forral’s removal, Aurian would never forgive him.

Miathan resigned himself to patience. Sooner or later, he would find an opportunity to deal with the swordsman. In the meantime, he must at all costs keep Aurian’s love and trust. With Forral out of the way he would soon break her to his bidding, and use her powers to further his ends. Miathan smiled to himself. How difficult could it be, to rid himself of one man? Forral was only a Mortal, after all.

Aurian was weary but satisfied. This had been her first essay in the skills that Meiriel was teaching her, but everything had gone well. Those long hours studying the intricate workings of the human body and learning to channel her power to repair damage and speed natural healing had not been in vain. Though she still had much to learn, her first independent efforts had been a success. As though dusting off her hands, Aurian banished the last flickering blue traces of Magelight that marked her Healing spells.

Her new servant rested comfortably between clean sheets in a room that had been provided by a rather tight-lipped Forral. Now that he was clean, she could see the bruises fading rapidly against his pale, fair skin. Soon they would be gone, and the Mage blessed her powers that could work such miracles. His eyes flickered open, and Aurian caught her breath at their vivid blue intensity.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said wonderingly. “It really doesn’t hurt! Gods, I’d forgotten . . .”

Aurian swallowed a lump in her throat. How the poor wretch had suffered! “It won’t hurt anymore,” she assured him. “I’ve taken care of it.”

“Magefolk don’t Heal Mortals!” His voice rose in disbelief. “Lady Meiriel wouldn’t Heal my grandpa, and he died!”

Knowing Meiriel, Aurian was uncomfortably aware that he could be telling the truth. “Well, Lady Aurian Heals Mortals,” she said briskly, “and you certainly needed it!”

“Lady—what’s going to happen to me?”

Aurian gave him a reassuring smile, trying to soothe away the fear that showed on his face. “Don’t you remember? From now on you’ll be my servant, and I’ll make sure you’re never hurt like that again. You’re safe now.”

“Oh.” He sounded far from convinced.

Well, what did you expect from a bondservant? Aurian thought to herself. Gratitude? She smiled at her own folly. If I were him, she decided, I probably wouldn’t trust me, either.

This time he managed to swallow the broth she gave him, and soon afterward he fell asleep. Aurian also needed to eat, to replace the energy expended in her Healing, and after the appalling business of getting her patient clean, she badly needed a bath herself. But she lingered for a while, watching him as he slept and trying to shake off the nagging feeling that she had seen him before. Anvar, had the Archmage called him? His body was long in the bed and broaH shouldered, but dreadfully thin. Well, that could be remedied. He looked younger than she had first thought, probably not much older than herself. His face, even in repose, seemed melancholy, with fine lines between his brows, and at the corners of his generous mouth. His jaw was firm, though his nose was rather big, and his fine bronze hair curled into the nape of his neck. And those eyes! Aurian had never seen such eyes on a Mortal.