Page 34 of The Faceless Mage

She wasconcernedfor him. She should be shaking in terror of her own predicament, but she was worried about whether he actually slept.

He took a step back, then another. It was time for him to leave, before they went any further down this bizarre road.

“You do sleep, don’t you?” she asked.

Even if he could have answered, there was nothing he could have said—no way to explain the nightmare of his existence. So he only continued to retreat until he reached the door. Pulled it open and left the room, closing it behind him with what he hoped was sufficient finality to put an end to her painful questions.

Neither of them would have liked the answers.

Chapter 10

Leisa didn’t manage much in the way of sleep that night. She was too unsettled. Too…

She couldn’t even begin to name what she was feeling. Couldn’t have said why she no longer felt afraid of her intimidating bodyguard.

But for some reason, even as he’d stalked her with that focused, intentional grace—like some giant predator—and smelled her as if she were food, her fear had vanished.

Maybe because she’d finally heard him breathing. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how greatly she’d feared that there was no real and living man within the armor. But as she heard the hiss of air drawn in through the mask he wore, something within her had loosened in relief.

She should still be afraid. After all, at this point, there was no denying that he knew at least some of her secrets—more than enough to betray her to King Melger.

But how could she be afraid now that she guessed the truth—that he was even more a prisoner here than she was.

The second time her skin brushed against that gem, once she pushed past the heat, she’d known. She’d felt him, and oh dear gods, he was like a furnace. She could have closed her eyes and pointed to him a hundred miles away. It was as if someone had encased the burning heart of a star in that armor and then sealed it off so that somehow, the power could never be unleashed.

That much magic… Leisa couldn’t even comprehend it. In comparison, her own was a mere spark against the raging heat of a forge. Who—or what—gave that dark armor its form? How could anyone have captured him, let alone contained him and forced him to do their bidding? And what was Prince Vaniell really playing at, because there was no way in all Abreia that he didn’t know what he’d given her.

This gem, this innocent diamond pendant, was anything but. It was a magical link between her and the Raven, and gods help her, she had no idea how it worked. She could feel him, yes, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

He could almost undoubtedly feel her in return. But how much could he see? What did he know? If he saw too much, all of her secrets would be instantly laid bare. He would know that she had magic.

Was that why Vaniell had done it? To ferret out her secrets? But if it was, why had the Raven not revealed the truth of her late-night activities?

He had to suspect she wasn’t who she claimed to be. But he not only seemed to be keeping that information to himself, he’d also defended her against the king’s guards.

What had Lady Piperell said? That if he’d been commanded to guard her, he would be unable to harm her in any way? He’d followed her, that much was certain, but perhaps it had not been because he intended to apprehend her. Even if he suspected her of spying, it was possible that he still had no choice but to protect her.

And if this line of reasoning was correct, how far did his compulsion extend? He might not be able to harm her physically, but would he be loyal enough to Melger (or enspelled enough) to eventually tell the king what he knew about her nocturnal activities?

As she tossed and turned through the early morning hours, Leisa only grew more deeply unnerved by the situation, and by the reality that she had no one to trust. There was no one she could even ask for information.

But in the midst of her worries, she realized that she’d also set a new task for herself.

She had to know more about the Raven—about who he was and how he came to be here.

She’d felt him. And not merely his presence—through the link forged by the gem, she’d become aware of his frustration, his suspicion, even his curiosity. Suddenly, it was incredibly important to her to determine whether she was correct in believing him a prisoner. Was it still possible that the Raven was simply another of King Melger’s servants? Or was he a living, breathing person who’d been magically enslaved to serve without question and, apparently, even without rest?

The answer mattered immensely.

It mattered in part because Leisa refused to benefit from anyone’s torment. Even if he was a criminal, such treatment was cruel and inhumane. But it also mattered to her because of what it said about Melger, and about Vaniell.

As king, Melger obviously knew the nature and identity of his bodyguard. He had to know of the immense magical power that was contained within that faceless armor. Which suggested that she was right—Melger was unlikely to allow that much power to roam unchecked, so it was looking more and more probable that the Raven was, in fact, an unwilling slave to the king’s will.

But Vaniell’s gift of the gem suggested that he also knew, and was therefore complicit in whatever had been done to the Raven.

And even if Leisa were willing to lay aside what this meant for the Raven himself (which she was most assuredly not), the discovery, if proven true, had immense implications for her purposes here.

If this was how Garimore treated mages, they could never be allowed to set foot in the kingdom of Farhall, let alone gain power over its people. The result would be unthinkable, and Leisa would gladly devote her every remaining breath to preventing that from coming to pass.

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