Page 44 of The Faceless Mage

“Take the archers,” Melger said. “It’ll have to be done from a distance. And for the love of Abreia, send someone who can find out how the Empress continues to sneak her agents across our borders. I thought we’d dealt with the last of her mirror mages, but apparently, there’s still at least one plaguing the world. Where there’s one, there may be more, so we must continue to be vigilant. Hunt them wherever they may be found.”

The princess froze. Her breath, even her heartbeat, seemed to pause.

“It won’t take long, Your Majesty,” Orvell said, beginning to sound more sure of himself. “This will soon be behind us.”

Melger snorted. “This one, yes. But how many more are out there? How many times must I remind the others that these boundary mages are too dangerous to be allowed to live freely! And the mirror users are the worst!”

He was building steam now, embarking on a rant the Raven had heard too many times to count.

“Their kind exist only to deal in lies and deception. If they are not already the Empress’s spies, she’ll poison them against us soon enough, and then they’ll bring down death and destruction on us all unless we can stop them. The other kings talk, and they talk, and they pretend to agree, but we mustdosomething. Not just continue to discuss it endlessly.”

The princess still wasn’t moving. She had to need air, but her breath seemed to have caught in her lungs.

Fear suddenly rose from her skin to fill his nostrils, but it was a different sort of fear. It still stank, but it didn’t repel him—it enraged him. It made him want to destroy whatever had made her afraid. And as he confronted the oddity of that reaction, he realized that the princess was far more frightened by what she’d just heard than she’d ever been of him.

Melger and Orvell continued on their way, and the Raven listened as their footsteps retreated into the distance. The princess still seemed to be struggling to breathe, and the Raven had no idea what to do. How to help. He wasn’t even supposed towantto help, but he did.

“I…” she finally whispered. “I need space. I need you to move.”

He didn’t move fast enough. Her hand released his sleeve, bunched into a fist, and hit him in his fully armored chest.

“Back!” she hissed, cradling her hand against the pain as she realized her mistake. “They’re gone. I’m safe, and, and… you’re too close.”

As if her words jolted him out of some strange trance, his arms fell, and he took a step away. But only one.

He couldn’t bring himself to put any more distance than that between them. Not while she was still afraid.

But the princess tilted her head back, looking right into his blank mask as he remained unmoving, only a few inches away. Questions appeared in her eyes, along with suspicion and confusion, but then they vanished.

Her hand twitched, as though she almost reached for the necklace, but she resisted. Grasped her own skirt instead, as if she had to physically prevent herself from touching the gem.

But then, without making a single move, she reached out through their link.

There was an uncertainty about her that he hadn’t sensed before, a hopeful sort of question that quickly made itself plain.

She felt lost and alone. Something about the king’s words had unmoored her completely, and she was looking for something, anything, to grab on to.

It could not be him. Never him. He’d stumbled enough, thanks to his incomprehensible need to protect her—a need that went far above and beyond the king’s command.

No more. He had to put some distance between them. Had to convince her that he would not—could not—be her ally.

So he lowered his walls and let her in.

She staggered backward for the second time that day.

The Raven hardened his heart against the shock and pain that filled her eyes. He knew exactly what she would find.

Fury—bright and burning like a forge-fire. Rage—icy cold and implacable. Self-loathing—a dark quagmire that would swallow up anyone unlucky enough to approach it.

She was supposed to recoil and withdraw.

But she kept searching. Pushed past the surface emotions that clouded his mind and found more.

Confusion—a glowing tangle of emotions that wasn’t as hostile as it should have been.

Concern—a strange, banked glow that the Raven himself hadn’t even realized was beginning to separate itself from the confusion.

Enough.

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