Page 9 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“So, you took advantage of that and continued to let me believe you were a woman?” I can’t stop the indignant words, but as soon as I’ve said them, I clasp my hands to my mouth as if I can pull them back. Dead, I should be so very dead. Instead, he grimaces and puts a hand to the back of his neck.

“Well I…wait…” He trails off as he sees my expression, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my sudden change in demeanour. “You can speak your mind when we’re alone. I will never punish you for that.”

We shall see, the small angry part of me whispers, but I brush that aside and slowly drop my hands to my sides. My brain takes a couple of moments to realise what he’s said.When we’re alone.Taking in the man before me, I assess him in a new light. He isn’t going to hurt me, and he genuinely seems concerned that he said something to upset me. A high magician concerned aboutoffending a slave is enough to make me laugh. Pushing away from the wall and with a bravado I don’t feel, I meet his gaze.

“Do you plan to be alone with me a lot then?” I hadn’t meant to make it sound sexual, but in the enclosed space of the bathroom, even I have to admit it sounds like I’m coming on to him. “I mean, I don’t…I…” Trailing off, I cringe as his concerned expression starts to grow into an amused smile. “You confuse me,” I admit, my face burning. His smile drops a little at my words, but he forces it back in place quickly enough that most people wouldn’t notice. But I’m a slave, we notice the smallest changes, it’s what keeps us alive.

“When you’re ready, come into the reception room and we’ll explain what’s going to happen.” Taking a step back, Grayson grabs the door handle and pulls it open. One foot out of the door, he turns back to look at me. “I truly am sorry for making you believe I was Jayne. I stepped out of line.”

Nodding in response, I watch him leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Frowning at the space the magician had just been standing in, I raise my hand to my temple where a headache is beginning to form. That man confuses me.

He’s dangerous and I need to be careful around him,I conclude. And not just because of his magic. It’s too easy to forget what he is, but more importantly, it’s too easy to forget whoIam.

I’m not sure what I was expecting to see, but Grayson reclining in an armchair with a book in his hands was not it. Standing in the doorway, I wait for him to notice me, but when he doesn’t, I use the opportunity to look around. A wall of bookshelves takes up one side of the room, and two arched windows fill the far wall. A large fireplace dominates the wall opposite, with four armchairs situated in front of it. Although the room is full of books and furniture, it feels…empty. There are no pictures or decorations on the walls, no personal touches of any kind. The magicians don’t spend much time here, they are busy fighting on the front line or at the academy, but still... this is his home. Doesn’t he have a family or loved ones?

My eyes are once again drawn to the books on the far wall, their colourful spines calling to me. I must make a sound as Grayson glances up and follows my gaze to the bookshelf. With a ghost of a smile, he closes his own tome and pushes up from the chair, gesturing for me to come into the room.

“Do you like reading?” he inquires, watching me carefully as I step over the threshold. As I walk towards the shelves, I marvelat being able to move freely now that I’m without my chains. I shake my head as an answer to his question before returning my attention back to the books, running my finger along the leather spines. I’ve never had access to books as a slave, but I feel drawn to them. I have vague memories of someone reading to me as a child. I don’t remember who it was, or even what the stories were about, but I remember her voice. On the tough nights, the ones where my back was screaming from the lashes I’d received that day, or my feet were bleeding from walking barefoot several miles to the stone quarry, those were the nights I’d hear her voice and I’d dream about knights, damsels, and winged horses.

The room is silent and I get the feeling he’s waiting for a response. “I can’t read,” I answer with a shrug, pulling a thick book from the shelf and running my fingers over the embossed title.

“What?” His voice is shocked, and when I shoot a look over my shoulder he’s shaking his head, a thoughtful look on his face.

“I learned my letters, but I was eight when I became a slave, so…” Shrugging, I turn and place the book back on the shelf. I don’t need to explain why I never learned to read, educating the slaves isn’t exactly something the king worried about.

“You were eight? You were just a child.” I’m not sure how to respond to his soft, shocked words. Surely this isn’t news to him? He’s one of the king’s high magicians. Slaves are enemies to the kingdom, criminals who have been granted leniency from a death sentence because of our age.

Thankfully, I’m saved from answering when Jayne walks into the room with a tray full of steaming mugs. “All the slaves are children,” she tells him, not meeting my eyes as she unloads the cups onto the small table between the chairs. She’s right, the slaves are children. I’m the eldest slave, and although we don’t swap ages, I’m pretty sure that none of them are older than seventeen. Most of us don’t last longer than a year.

Jayne’s voice is carefully neutral, but I get the distinct feeling she disapproves, not that she’d admit to it. Those kinds of opinions are dangerous and you never know who’s listening. I feel the weight of Grayson’s stare, but keep my focus on the books, the conversation making me uncomfortable.

“I’ll teach you.” Turning, I gape at him open-mouthed and realise that Jayne is doing the same thing. “Everyone should be able to read,” he defends with a shrug as he walks up to the bookshelf, placing the leather bound book back onto one of the rows. Turning, he heads back to the chairs and I watch him as he takes a seat then looks up at me expectantly. Opening my mouth to ask a question, I freeze as my eyes are drawn to the small table next to him. It’s not so much the table, but what’s on it that causes ice to run through my veins and my hopes to come crashing down around me.

Chains.

I’d been stupid to think that life would be different. He promised not to kill me, he didn’t say anything about a better life. My ankles throb painfully at the thought of them being reattached. I stare at him for a moment before flickering my gaze to Jayne, who’s watching me with a pitying expression. Pushing away the sick feeling in my stomach, I drop my head and slowly walk towards him, stopping before his chair.

“What are you doing?” He sounds amused, but I stay silent, holding my position. I don’t think he’d hit me for moving, but one of the first lessons you learn as a slave is to be silent and still, and old habits are hard to break. I can hear him sitting up and leaning forward in his chair. “Opal, what’s going on…” He starts, his fingers brushing lightly against my arm, but he trails off as I flinch away from his touch.

Opal? Is he talking to me?The thoughts fly through my head in a confused rush, my hands trembling slightly at the uncertainty. Part of me is insisting I look up and refuse to everwear those chains again. I would rather be put to death than shuffle around like a ghost. But I can’t say that. Iwantto live. Jayne puts down her tray and strides over to us, standing by my side. Through the veil my curtain of hair offers, I can see her cross her arms over her ample bosom. My breathing quickens, my eyes locked on the chains.

“Come on, Grayson, you’re a smart boy, use that brain the Mother gave you,” she scolds. She’s reprimanding ahigh magicianlike he’s a child, the same magician who could kill her with a snap of his fingers. She’s asking for death by speaking to him that way. However, she doesn’t seem to care. “She thinks you’re going to put those blasted chains on her.” To my amazement, Grayson cringes at her rebuke, glancing at the chains that lie on the table just to the side of him.

I can hear her talking and Grayson mumbling a response, but I’m not understanding what they’re saying. My breaths are still coming too fast as my hands and body continue to tremble. I want to be strong, I don’t want them to know how much this is affecting me, but I can’t hide it. My vision starts to blur and my head feels light, and I have to fight away the nausea that threatens to overtake me. Suddenly, my hair is brushed from my face and Grayson is kneeling on the floor in front of me. “Listen to me. You’re safe,” he says earnestly, but how can I believe him? “I’m sorry, I should’ve got rid of those bloody chains,” he apologises, but I’m not fully paying attention, my thoughts circling.

Jayne mutters something, but I can’t hear what she says, my panic all-consuming as I focus on the magician’s wide eyes.

“I blew up a goat,” he blurts out, and silence follows. I blink at his admission, the absurdity of what he’s saying sinking through my panic and causing the trembling in my arms to lessen.

“You did what?” Jayne asks, her voice holding as much shock as I’m feeling. He turns to glance at her for a moment, smiling bashfully before looking back at me. His face settles into an expression of determination.

“When I was in training, I was much stronger than the others, and they bullied me because of it. One day we were practicing shooting targets with our magic, and they wouldn’t let up, they kept taunting me. I was so mad, I could feel the anger and rage building up inside me, but I knew I couldn’t afford to lose control. So, I channelled it into the target. The more they taunted, the stronger I threw my magic,” he explains, his features twisting. I know there’s more behind this story, but he carries on, so I keep my observations to myself. “This was exactly what they wanted, and they turned the target into a goat just as I shot a blast of magic towards it.” Blinking again, I try to concentrate on what he’s saying.

A goat. The fearsome magicians are messing around turning targets into goats?I think to myself, trying to imagine a young Grayson surrounded by other young magicians.

“It exploded?” Jayne questions, her voice disapproving, but I can see a smile tugging at her lips.

“No.” He grimaces. “I tried to change the intent of the magic, which is very hard to do after the magic has left the body.” He stops, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand before continuing, “I wasn’t strong enough to stop the magic, but I was able to change it.”

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