Page 6 of Feral Guardian
I go to the doorway and carve three simple runes into the wall. My magic is nearly drained, but it’ll be worth it. Upright Osselna’s inspiration: Yan, a spark of distant thought. Upright Morgha’s drive: Shing, a stubbornness to remember. Inverted Kor’Tar’s duty: Orume, forgetting what oneset out to do.
This little pattern will instantly make someone forget what they were doing while simultaneously sparking them to remember something important somewhere else they need to be. That will keep everyone away from the foyer for a little while.
My green magic seeps into the wall, but the runes remain. Shit. I forgot upright Nol’Ther’s darkness: Ahn, to obscure from view. Nothing to be done for it now.
I look up at the headmistress one more time. “It has truly been the worst years of my life. Thank you for teaching me perseverance and patience.” I flip her a rude Seterian gesture and then head for the stairs to her rooms.
My body is screaming for sleep as I ascend to her office, but I can sleep on the way home. For now, I need all my stuff, and maybe a little of hers would be nice too. I’m sure she’s collected all kinds of nice things from her prisoners over the years.
The floral carpeted stairs creak as I make my way toward the headmistress’s office, a purposeful rune built in as an early-detection system. She thought she’d been clever, but really, it creaks in the exact same way every time no matter which of the four stairs you step on.
So obvious.
I, of course, had learned to avoid stepping on the stairs altogether to get to her office, climbing around the balconies and through her window. That only worked twice before she warded it, butthenI managed to get over the roof and through her skylight. That worked for an entire summer before I slipped one rainy night and came crashing through…
Fortunate that my high-blood magus ability is transfiguration. I was able to set my own broken ribs without much issue, but the headmistress forbade me from healing the welts she’d left on my back.
I stick the key in the lock on her office door and push my awareness into the frame, checking for which wards she’d used. I have been able to transfigure a bit of bronze to mimic her key shape many times, but she wised-up to that, too. Never once praised me for my craftiness or ingenuity.
Those aren’tprincessqualities.
The wards in the key ring synchronize with the ones in the doorframe with a push of my magic, and I turn the key. If I hadn’t waited for that, the entire house would’ve been filled with loud, endless shrieking. That would’ve been the fastest way to put a kibosh on the whole escape. I’m glad I went with operation “String her up” instead of “Blast down the door.”
Her office is yellow, plush, and gaudy. Just looking at it hurts my eyes. The big desk near the wall is painted white with orange accents, and her bookshelf of “Royal Mannerisms” and “Ballroom Etiquette” is an eye-bleeding mustard.
I walk over the rose-shaped rug—yellow, of course—and descend on the desk. I flip through the keys until I get the one that unlocks the drawers. They could’ve been warded too, so I didn’t want to chance it with transfiguration.
My hands tremble with excitement as I pull open drawer after drawer. I find a cool dagger that I slip into one of my many pockets. My prank pen that spits ink goes in next to it, and finally, my urictsa rings.
The rings are ancient, having been infused with magic for generations, and they’re my most prized possessions, for they allow me to manifest my magic outside my body and draw runes in the very air.
Three-dimensional rune-writing in real time is so much more versatile than scripting it on stone or wood. I don’t have to set trigger runes; I can just use the intent with a pull of my fingers or a twistof my wrist. Of course, it’s not at all useful for setting traps, but throwing up a shield in the moment, or spraying water in Angelina’s face from across the dining hall,thatit is good for.
I slide the ring with an emerald on my right middle finger, and the sapphire one on my left. The early morning light catches the facets of the gems, making them gleam. The magic hums up my fingers to my heart. They’re grateful to be back in my possession.
I kiss the gems and slip on my white, “proper lady’s” gloves. Apparently, my hands aren’t supposed to touch anything. Such is the life of a royal.
With my most important goal completed, I breathe a sigh of relief. That didn’t take as long as I’d thought it would, and I have some spare time. What-oh-what should I do with that time?
Lay traps for the headmistress in her own office she’ll be finding for years to come?
An impish grin rounds my cheeks as I look at her chair.
I know just where to start.
Chapter three
Alastair
The midday sun beats down on us as the academy spires come into view through the trees. My heart has been thundering so loud for the last mile I think the queen’s guard might hear it. I take small sips from my canteen to wet my arid throat.
Four years has felt like an eternity to be separated from my ward, my mission, and it’s all going to be over soon.
So, why aren’t I happier?
In the place where I should feel joy and relief, I sense…trepidation.
I ignore the sensation. I have a job to do again, finally. My only job. Keep the second princess safe. Ensure the dark prophecy does not come to pass.
