Page 43 of The Faceless Mage

But as they approached the arched opening that led towards the balcony, he heard voices.

Melger. And in the midst of his words, the Raven heard the words “mage,” “monster,” and “hunt.”

And suddenly, he knew only that he couldn’t let the king see them. Couldn’t let Melger link the princess and mages in his head. Not after that conversation she’d had with Vaniell in the garden. Not after she betrayed a familiarity with magecraft that came only from knowledge and experience.

So he stepped in front of her, grasped her upper arms, and swung her around until her back was to the wall, parallel to the arch—out of sight.

She was startled, of course, and opened her mouth, probably to tell him off, but he couldn’t afford for them to be discovered.

So he closed the distance between them until their chests nearly touched, pressing her closer to the wall as his arms caged her in on either side. Hoping to distract her. To intimidate her. To prevent her from moving if at all possible.

His mistake.

Because as they pressed more closely together, her face hidden in the folds of his cloak, his mask only inches from her hair, he could no longer deny that his motivation had been far less straightforward than he first thought.

He was still curious. He was still somewhat amused. And he was still completely fascinated by the vivid, compelling, mysterious princess from Farhall.

She could not be allowed to come to harm.

Not merely because King Melger had ordered it so—no, this was different. Because everything in him seemed to understand that the greatest threat to her safety was not from anyone outside these walls—it was from Melger himself.

His head bent nearer, almost against his will, as if by getting even closer, he could somehow come to terms with the war being waged within him. Could find a way to understand what it was that drew him in instead of repulsing him. But even as he struggled to convince himself to step away and smother whatever impulse drove him to protect her… he was taken completely aback by her reaction.

Her face lifted. Her lips parted. Her pulse raced, and he knew instinctively it was still not from fear. Almost as if she felt it too. As if… shewantedto be nearer. Were he any other man, he might have thought she was expecting a kiss.

And as the shock of that resonated through their link, Melger’s voice grew too loud to ignore.

The princess suddenly blinked, and her pulse slowed down. Apparently, she found the thought of dealing with the king less threatening than the Raven’s dark, brooding nearness.

The Raven was no longer certain he would agree.

“How many did we lose, Orvell?”

“Unknown.” The guard captain’s voice trembled, like the cowardly weasel he was. “They were expecting to face trouble, but not one ofthem. The regiment was scattered.”

Melger was hunting again, and all the Raven could feel was relief that he’d been spared. If he was busy protecting the princess, he couldn’t be sent to murder innocent mages.

But the princess grew tense, and he felt shock resonate through their link.

“Inform the local garrison,” Melger ordered, “and dispatch a battalion in support. I want him dead, Orvell. I won’t allow one of those monsters to terrorize my people.”

Who was the monster this time? A mage? Or some poor creature guilty of nothing more heinous than not being human?

The Raven had no particular love for mages, but they were almost entirely non-violent. They would defend themselves, if necessary, but using magic as a weapon was largely a losing proposition, at least for humans. They simply couldn’t command enough energy to sustain it.

Not to mention they were too few in number. If mages ever turned their power towards cruelty rather than helping their neighbors, they would be overwhelmed in moments. It was why mages chose their apprentices carefully and often lived apart from others.

Which was what made Melger’s vendetta that much more reprehensible.

Very likely, whoever he now hunted had done nothing to justify the attack. The mage’s mere existence was justification enough in Melger’s eyes.

The princess was listening intently, her eyes wide, jaw clenched. She appeared to have forgotten her response to the Raven’s nearness, even to the point that one small hand had grasped his arm where it caged her in. As Melger expressed his wish for his quarry’s death, her grip tightened until her knuckles went white.

But all the Raven’s dazed mind could comprehend was that she was touching him.

No one dared touch him of their own volition. Not in the last ten, interminable years.

And as much as he wished to, he could not focus on the warmth of her fingers, because the men on the balcony seemed to have stopped only a few feet from the archway.

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