Page 26 of The Faceless Mage

What was this? He was actively obstructing his father? The Raven might have thought the two men were planning something deeper, but for the emotions resonating across his link with his captor.

Shock. Outrage. It seemed that King Melger very much desired to know what sort of unfamiliar being was currently wearing his son’s clothes.

“Now that we’ve sorted this out,” the insubordinate prince continued, “I’m sure we should leave you to your rest.” He wore a smile so soppy and insincere, the Raven felt vaguely nauseated. “But first… a gift.”

The initial surge of surprise from Melger melted into apprehension.

And as before, the Raven still felt that inexplicable urge to remove the viper’s hand from the princess. Or perhaps he just wanted to remove the hand. Come to think of it, that would be far more satisfying.

“I meant to present it this evening at the reception,” Vaniell continued, “but was unaware you had retired. Please accept this as a token of my wish that our relationship, and the relationship between our kingdoms, may flourish. May we become ever more inextricably linked.”

He removed the “token” from his pocket, and the Raven froze, throttling his shock and his fury as he saw what dangled from the prince’s fingers.

It was a delicate chain, composed of interwoven strands of silver and bronze—gorgeous, intricate work, as sinister as it was beautiful. The Raven could almost feel it reaching for him, claiming him, wrapping his will in smothering bonds. He held himself still only with tremendous effort as his eyes fell on the gem that dangled at the end of the chain—an enormous diamond. Hard-edged, cold, and bright. Much like Vaniell himself.

The princess was startled. Almost visibly uneasy.

As well she should be. Could she feel the magic that laced this seemingly innocent gift? Sense the darkness that crouched at its core?

“It’s lovely,” she said, though her voice was as stiff as her spine. “I trust I may accept it without considering that I have entered into any agreement.”

Vaniell chuckled inanely as he moved behind her to string the vile object around her pale, slender neck.

The Raven’s fingers twitched, yearning to yank it away and throw it into the deepest hole in all of Abreia.

But he couldn’t move, not even when he saw the princess flinch as Vaniell’s fingers brushed her skin.

That settled it. Someday, the prince would be missing a hand.

“Perhaps in Farhall, this would seem a mark of some binding contract,” Vaniell said. “But I assure you, my princess, in Garimore, this is merely an expression of how greatly I esteem you. Call it a courting gift, if you will. Much like flowers, except you will have this forever to remind you of the day we met.”

As the cold weight of the gem fell to the center of the princess’s chest, the Raven felt it. Felt his newest shackles fall into place.

Felt a surge of revulsion from the princess, who clearly yearned to rip the prince’s gift from around her neck.

Oddly, her anger steadied him. Enabled him to watch as the prince continued speaking.

“It is tradition,” Vaniell said smoothly, “to wear a courting gift until such time as you have decided for or against a suitor. I hope I will have the pleasure of seeing it on you as we deepen our acquaintance in the coming days.”

“Of course,” the princess murmured, giving no hint of the unease that only the Raven could feel. She mustered a polite smile. “And now, I am so sorry, but I must beg your leave to retire. It has been an exhausting day, and I will be much more convivial company after I’ve rested from the long weeks of travel.”

Her gaze moved to Melger, and the Raven found himself pinned between their minds. Speculation and unease from the princess. Shock and fear from the king.

Shock. And fear. He had not known what the prince intended. He had not planned this.

Vaniell acted on his own. He had blithely handed the princess the key to his own undoing as if it were nothing more than an expensive bauble.

The prince was many things, but a fool was not one of them. What could he intend by it? To provoke his father? But to what end? And in what unspeakable ways would the Raven be forced to suffer for the feud that seemed to be brewing between the two people he hated most in all the world?

But the moment shattered as Melger broke the silence.

“Yes. Rest,” he said to the princess. “Your guards will be given quarters within the palace grounds, and we will speak more tomorrow about their restrictions and what will be expected of them.”

The princess nodded regally, her self-possession fully intact, and turned to the captain of her guard. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “for your devotion to my security. I believe I will be safe enough for tonight, and tomorrow we can discuss what your new duties will be.”

The king was unhappy. Unsettled. He was no longer in control, and he didn’t like it, but he was also not foolish enough to push the princess further.

“You.” King Melger turned abruptly to the Raven. Speaking aloud for the benefit of those listening. He couldn’t afford for them to realize that he had no need of speech to communicate with his personal bodyguard. “Establish your post outside these chambers for the remainder of the night so that no one may disturb the princess’s peace again.”

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