Page 29 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

He opens his mouth to reply, but I hear a familiar voice on the other side of the walls and, smile still in place, I open the door, stepping out into the hallway.

“Good, because he’s already here.” Grayson’s voice follows me, humour in his tone as I follow the corridor around until we reach the main sitting room. Wilson’s sitting on the arm of one of the sofas while he blatantly flirts with a blushing Jayne. “Flirting with my maid, Wilson?”

As if the sofa had suddenly set on fire, he jumps up with the look of a startled deer, his eyes widening even more comically as he sees me with the high mage.

“Clarissa, Mage Grayson, I—we were just…” Something I’ve learned about Wilson is that he gestures when he talks, and he’s so flustered by our appearance that he forgets he’s holding a cup of tea in his hand. We watch, as if in slow motion, as the cup flies from his hand and the contents end up on the floor, splashing a large part of Jayne’s skirt in the process. Making a startled noise, Jayne jumps back, her horrified eyes on her skirt and themess now all over the floor. Wilson produces a handkerchief and hurries over to her, trying to dab at the fabric, but she bats him away.

“What is it with people spilling tea on this carpet?” Grayson’s muttering has my face pinched tight as I try to hold back my laughter, but Wilson’s guilty, wide-eyed expression that has him looking like a sad puppy is enough to push me over the edge as a giggle escapes me. The light, joy-filled noise makes everyone stop and look up at me, the rest of the room quiet, and I quickly stop, self-consciously lifting a hand to my hair, which I realise with shock is black.

Wilson only knows me with magicked blonde curly hair, not my straight, naturally dark locks. He only knows Lady Clarissa, and in the space of seconds I’ve ruined that whole charade. Panic thrums through me as I turn to Grayson, gesturing to my hair. Seeing my worry, something about Grayson changes. His body seems to grow as he takes a step closer to me and looks around for whatever threat has me panicking. I can feel his magic as he calls it to him.

“Grayson.” When he doesn’t react to me saying his name, I frown, realising he’s not hearing me. Something else has taken over him, some protective instinct I can’t get through.

“Grayson,” I say again softly, placing my hand on his chest. I’m painfully aware that we’re being watched by both Jayne and Wilson. My voice must break through as he looks down at his chest, seeing my hand and following it back to me. His eyes are feral, he doesn’t look like the Grayson I know.

“He’s gone intoeuisa,” Wilson whispers, his voice awed as he watches his mentor with wide eyes. “You need to talk to him, calm him down.”

“He’s what?” My words are shrill and Grayson growls at the panic in my voice, grabbing me with a large hand and pulling me behind him, putting himself between Wilson and me. I have noidea what thiseuisais, but he seems to get more powerful by the second, his energy growing evermore.

“Euisa,” Wilson repeats, as if I should know what it means, wearily eyeing up the magician. “I forget that you don’t know anything about us,” he mutters quietly, before turning his attention to me. “It’s the killing zone. It’s a state that all magicians can go into, like a trance. It usually happens on the battlefields, all other feelings disappear, and only the urge to kill and protect remains.” His explanation only makes me more anxious, which in turn makes Grayson growl again, taking a menacing step towards Wilson. I’m stuck behind a magician who’s gone into some kind of killing trance, of course I’m going to be nervous, but the worse I get, the angrierheseems to get. “Something about you has set him off, you need to talk to him! Calm him down!”

Me calm him down? I barely know that man. Why would my panic about Wilson seeing my natural hair set off this “killing trance?” He was pretty wound up about my injuries from the guards, perhaps he was close to the edge anyway and all he needed was my panic to set him off.

“Any time, Clarissa!” Wilson calls out, and I realise Grayson has taken another threatening step towards the young magician.

“Grayson, stop,” I shout, biting my lip as he turns with supernatural speed, like a predator hunting down his prey. His eyes lock onto me, assessing each of my movements.Mother above, help me, guide me,I pray, sending my pleas up to the Mother for her assistance. I feel my wrist tingle as he takes small, predatory steps towards me.

“He’s stopped drawing power, but the amount that he’s holding at the moment is enough to blow the whole wing off the castle,” Wilson warns me in hushed tones, which only aggravates Grayson, the magician spinning to growl at the young mage. Atingling sensation rolls over my body and I suddenly know what to do, the presence of the Mother filling me like a reassuring hug.

“Grayson.” He spins again, dropping into a crouch, his teeth drawn as his feral gaze locks onto me again. Taking small, gentle steps toward him, I drop into a crouch so I’m on the same level as him and I reach out, placing my hand on his cheek, ignoring the narrowing of his eyes. “Come back, I need you.” His body seems to shudder as I speak, his eyes closing as he leans into my hand. “I’m safe, come back, I need you,” I repeat, my voice soft as I try to coax him back.

Opening his eyes suddenly, I let out a sigh of relief when I see they’re back to normal, and I go to take my hand away from his cheek, but his arm comes up in a flash and holds my hand there. “Just—wait. Just for a second. Please.” His voice is ragged, and it pains something inside me as he closes his eyes again and sags forward into my body, resting his head against my shoulder as he keeps my hand pressed to his cheek. It’s an awkward position, but I don’t mind. I’m sure when I look back on this I’ll analyse and question what happened, but right now, this feels right.

After what feels like an hour, but must only be minutes, Grayson sighs and releases my hand, sitting back on his heels as he runs his gaze over me.

“You’re okay?” When I nod, his expression changes from one of relief to a deep frown, making his face look stern. “I could’ve really hurt you, what were you thinking?” Standing, he stares down at me as he fights to keep his voice even, to stop the anger I can see simmering in his eyes. I push up onto shaky legs and twist the cuffs around my wrists.

“I was worried about you. I didn’t want you to kill us because of some misplaced sense of guilt.” His expression makes me stop, anything I was planning to say further lost.

“What?”

Shrugging, I try to think of a way to phrase the words. “You were feeling guilty that the guards beat me even after you said I wouldn’t be harmed, and it set off this…trance?” My words trail off towards the end at his incredulous expression. I obviously didn’t pick the right words.

“Is that what you think? That I felt guilty?” A bitter laugh escapes him as he runs a hand through his hair. “Yes, I was furious that the guards harmed you, and Iwillbe taking it up with the priest, but that is not what ‘set me off.’” My confusion must be evident on my face since he shakes his head, the anger draining out of him. “Is it that hard to believe that I might actually worry about you? Not just because of the vision, but because ofyou?”

“Oh,” is all I can think to say, his words freezing me into place. How could someone like him care for someone like me? I understood that the Mother had given him a task to look out for me, and I’d believed he was angry because he thought he was failing that.

A cough has me blinking and looking past Grayson’s shoulder to see that we still have an audience. “Well, that was entertaining,” Wilson remarks with a grin, winking at me as Grayson groans and turns to face his guest. Jayne watches us with a knowing look.

“Sorry, it’s been a difficult day,” he says to the other magician, who opens his mouth, no doubt to respond with a cheeky comment, but Jayne interrupts them with a clearing of her throat.

“Excuse me, but dinner is ready.” She may be a maid, a servant to one of the high magicians at that, but her tone leaves no room for argument as she turns and leaves the room.

“Thank you, Jayne,” Grayson calls after her, before gesturing for me to follow. “Let’s go sit down, I’m sure you have questions.” That’s an understatement, but I simply nod andfollow Jayne through into a room I haven’t been in before. It’s bright with several arching windows built into one wall, a large varnished wooden table in the centre and five carved, wooden chairs along either side with one at each end. I’ve seen tables like this before, when I was a serving slave in one of the houses, but I’ve never sat at one.

“Clarissa,” Wilson calls as he gestures to a chair he’s just pulled out. At first I think he’s showing me how to do it, and I’m about to tell him I know how to move a chair, until I realise that he’s pulled the chair out for me. To sit at. Like a lady. Like the lady I’m supposed to be playing. I can’t quite muster a smile, but I nod my thanks to him as I walk over and take the seat, glancing up at him as he pushes it in behind me. He goes to sit in the chair opposite me, with Grayson on my left at the head of the table. I can feel their eyes on me, but I stare down at the table, lost in thought as Jayne starts to bring in plates of food.

Glancing up as a dish is placed in front of me, I give Jayne a thankful nod and half a smile before looking at what she brought me. I have a bowl of what appears to be broth and a small plate with some meat and a tiny amount of gravy. I’m thankful that she’s given me something different, as the full plates the others have would be way too much for my little stomach. The men have meat, potatoes, and gravy with some rich-looking side dishes, and if Wilson is surprised at my meagre meal, then he doesn’t comment. Reaching for my spoon, I hold it awkwardly in my hands as I watch Grayson hold his fork, trying to copy the position with my fingers. Scooping up some of the broth with the spoon, I try to pour the soup into my mouth, but just end up spilling it. Feeling eyes on me, I glance up and see they are both watching me with undisguised amusement. Wilson makes a gesture with both his hands and I frown at him for a moment until I realise what he’s doing. Putting the spoon down, I lift the bowl to my lips and sip the broth, my eyes closing in pleasure atthe flavours. Bread and broth are the foods they feed the slaves, but I’ve never tasted anything like this before, the flavours, while subtle, make me want more. Taking several deep swallows, I place the bowl down and breathe deeply, my stomach turning at the sudden onslaught. I remember what Jayne said yesterday—I need to take it easy, not rush or overeat, otherwise my stomach will just protest and make me sick. Glancing up, I see the two of them watching me as they eat their meals, the silence between us stretching.

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