Forbidden Road Preview

Western Scotland, AD 500

The day that Kimberley Áedán was kidnapped began with a broken wheel. It was the wheel of the royal carriage of the kingdom of Dalriada, and it fractured completely by chance. There was no magic involved, no road rut, no conspiracy, and not even the hand of destiny, as generations to come would claim. It was just a very old wheel.

The coach raced wildly in the dense forest, shaking from side to side. The driver tried to take control over the panicked horses. But the weight of the carriage, shifting the balance to the side, was too difficult to maneuver between the divots in the road.

The two men inside were jolted in their seats.

As the coach kept racing at top speed, the door flew open, letting out one of the trunks, which fell, spilling its contents.

“Stop the horses!” Seth cried. He was the younger of the two men, in his late twenties, with short brown hair and taller but a little slighter in build than his companion.

He pushed himself through the open door and hoisted himself to the roof, with rare agility, nearly falling as the carriage shook. From there, he joined the driver and with their combined strength, they pulled the reins. The horses whinnied and finally slowed down, but the coach only stopped once its corner fell into the road.

“Are you all right?” the driver asked.

“Fine.” Seth turned to look back through the carriage window, at his companion, who was still inside. “Niall?”

“I’m good.” Niall caught his breath and opened the left door. “I’ll stay with the driver. If you could go look for the trunk…see if the box is still in one piece.”

Seth climbed down and let Niall take his place.

Niall was the first knight, the highest mortal rank in any court. He belonged to the court of Fergus Mór, the regional high king. This journey was of great importance. Fergus Mór had secured his throne by arranging the marriage of his son Domangart Réti, the crown prince, to the daughter of King Áedán, the wealthiest of the lesser kings. Niall was delivering the marriage treaty that would seal the alliance between these two kingdoms.

The golden box, containing the marriage contract, was in the trunk that had fallen out.

Seth retraced the path of the wheels, his sharp eyes scanning the road on both sides. Behind him, Niall helped the driver pull the carriage out of the dirt. The driver cursed loudly.

Fergus Mór was a good king and ruled with justice. His knights always felt a duty to serve him well. Some of them feared what would happen when he was succeeded by his son. Much importance was placed on the marriage. The treaty was a complex one, and it took two weeks of negotiations just to get the first draft.

The bride was Áedán’s only daughter Kimberley. Seth had heard little of her. Áedán had traveled to Fergus Mór a few times to discuss the terms. From the stories, she seemed no different than other ladies of court he had met. Exactly what Domangart would be looking for, given his exploits at Fergus Mór’s palace.

It took a few minutes, but Seth finally spotted the glitter of the box. It was lying on the wet grass.

He walked over to it and picked it up. It was an impressive piece of art, ornamented with floral engravings around the royal crest. To his relief, it had survived the fall. There was one small scratch on the bottom and the hinges got twisted, but in spite of the deformity, the lock was still intact.

He tilted the box and heard the paper move inside. A strong odor came out when he did this. He had sensed it earlier and mentioned it to Niall, who said he didn’t smell it. He returned the box to him.

“It didn’t break,” Niall remarked in relief.

“No, but I think you should smell it. The odor is stronger now.”

He handed it over and Niall held it close to his nose. “I can see what you mean. It must be the prince’s ink. You’re right. It is strong.” He wrapped it carefully with a cloth. “The lock looks all right.”

The driver joined them, covered in mud.

“How are we doing?” Niall asked.

The driver shook his head. “There’s no way she’d make it to the castle, I’m afraid. Not with both of you inside.”

“Do you remember the way?” Niall asked Seth.

He had been there twice before. “It would be a little over an hour’s ride from here. As long as the same roads are still open since last spring.”

“As far as I know, they are,” said the driver.

“Good,” said Niall. “Seth and I will take the horses. We’ll send a few people to help repair the coach once we reach court, and hopefully we’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

*

Kimberley Áedán paced the marble floor of her father’s palace. What was taking them so long? She went to the window and looked out, biting her fingernails. Then, she noticed herself doing it and put her hands behind her back.

Patience was not one of her strengths. Neither was dealing with excitement.

Marriage. She had never really given it much thought before her father sat her down to speak about Domangart Réti. The notion itself didn’t surprise her, of course. Marriage was a necessity. Something that nobles did, and she was a king’s daughter.

Her father said that it was her right and duty to be married well, and this alliance would be very carefully arranged and made beneficial for her, placing her on track to the crown. The final decision would be up to her, but it was clear that she was expected to go along with it. Enthusiastically.

She was brought to his court a few months earlier, when her year and a half of education was complete and it was certain that she had the necessary skills and preparation to excel in her father’s court. It was the richest one in the region, and a high level of sophistication was required to maneuver its politics.

She didn’t remember her life before that, not since the accident she’d had. A fact that her teachers instructed her to prudently conceal.

Her mentor had been no other than a fairy queen, Morgan Le Fay. Few princesses could boast that—to be trained by someone with that amount of experience, an immortal who had walked the earth for many years, seeing different courts, speaking foreign languages, and meeting nobles of different ranks. Morgan was a great teacher, too. Harsh at times, as fairy leaders often were, but always fair.

Kim missed her. And the fairy tribe, in their beautiful forest town, built generations ago, with its arched pillars and silver roofs blending naturally with the surrounding woods. She’d lived with them there, in that beautiful paradise, learning everything she could.

No matter how grand or luxurious court life was, or how much she was looked up to by other court ladies, her every wish immediately fulfilled, she’d often find herself glancing out the window toward the woods with a longing. She remembered clearly the last time she saw Morgan, looking back from her coach, before disappearing from view in the dense foliage.

Soon, the royal carriage would arrive, coming out of those very woods. The regional king’s first knight. Here to deliver her wedding contract.

She had written Morgan about the marriage, and it was clear from the reply that Morgan was not supportive. She wrote that it was a hasty choice, too early in her court life and that Domangart was not the right one for her.

It didn’t sound like Morgan. Though strict, Morgan normally pushed her to excel and take challenges. She looked up to her. It would have been nice to have her support.

Three months till the wedding. She looked out the window, beyond the high walls of her father’s castle and the fields outside the gates.

“Don’t stare out too long.” She remembered Morgan’s words and took a step back, into the room. “It’s not ladylike.”

But she liked to look out, to the distant horizon where she saw the tall mountains that some of the knights had spoken of when they came back from their quests. Beyond them were other kingdoms, some smaller than hers, some larger. Then, after that, there was the sea. Merchants who came to court spoke of a land in the south, where there once was a great kingdom ruled by mages.

Her father said there was nothing of any value beyond the castle walls, except perhaps the nearby marketplace, where he would take her from time to time.

Perhaps it was that way for him. King Áedán was definitely a court person. There was always something on, with knights visiting, to enjoy the feasts and games he’d arrange. They’d bring stories with them, but those were too often about other courts, which sounded all too familiar. Between these, she’d catch the real tales. The things that knights had seen on the journey itself, with accounts of places, dangers, creatures, and people who were very different than the ones in court. Sometimes she’d lay awake at night, imagining that she was there with them.

She was grateful for her father’s investment in her, but he never knew who she really was. And she had no mother to talk to, because she had died giving birth to her.

He’d definitely taken every effort to make her happy here, since she came to court. He made sure to surround her with other court ladies her age, hoping she’d enjoy society the way he did, but most of them envied her. Long before it was announced that she was marrying the crown prince, she’d catch them during the endless balls and dinners, staring in that particular jealous way and often whispering to each other afterward. Their gaze would fixate on what she was wearing or at her jewelry, things that her father made it his business to provide at the highest quality he could afford, which was a lot.

They were sure to do it tonight, she realized, as she straightened the light purple dress she wore, which accentuated her blue eyes. Her long blonde hair was raised and tucked behind her ears; a delicate pair of golden earrings was all the jewelry she wore. It might have already been too much. After all, it wasn’t the prince himself who was coming, but his first knight. Still, she was expected to make an effort.

That was what she’d excelled at: doing what was expected.

After the wedding, she’d be moving to an even larger court. Everyone said she’d be a good match for it. She could display her accomplishments, her social talent, and her known taste in fashion. They all assumed that she would be happier there. She sighed. They couldn’t be more wrong.

She walked toward the mirror. A drawing of the prince lay next to it. She picked it up.

“They’re here.” She heard a voice outside her door.

She turned. Through the window, she could see two riders coming in on horseback. She put the drawing down.

The first rider had the shield of Fergus Mór. That would be Niall, the first knight, she concluded. The other must be his squire. He was dressed more simply.

Niall was tall. A man in his early forties with dark eyes and hair as black as coal. She’d heard stories about him. He was a well-known and respected knight, who came from a land across the ocean, in the south. The squire looked about fifteen years younger and had light-brown hair.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Two maids entered and bowed. One of them walked around her, inspected her from top to toe, and bent down to rearrange the folds of her gown, so that the lacy edge would show first.

“They should be ready in a few minutes,” said the other maid in a tone that reminded her of the training she’d received with the fairies. How to walk straight and seem slightly distant, while looking forward with a smile. All the time telling her she was lucky to live life as the king’s daughter.

Keep calm. Kim managed to slow her breath.

The first maid readjusted her hair and then both girls helped her go down the stairs.

Soon, she stood next to her father, his chief of staff, and the riders.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” Niall said.

“Sir Niall,” she said quietly.

Niall shook her father’s hand. Then, he took her hand and kissed it, bowing for the second time.

“We’re sorry for our slightly disordered appearance, Your Majesty.” Niall addressed her father. “As I was just explaining to your chief of staff, we’ve had a mishap on the road just now.”

“Not to worry,” said the king. “My men will make every effort to have your carriage ready in time for your departure.”

“Thank you. That is very appreciated. And, of course, you can rest assured that we’ve kept the treaty safe at all times.”

“Excellent,” said the king. “I trust you had a good ride apart from that?”

“Yes, sire. We did.”

Her father spoke to both men, and it seemed he knew the squire.

Kim observed him. He gave her a cold smile. He didn’t seem too excited to meet her. Perhaps he was tired from the trip.

“I’m sorry.” Niall interrupted her gaze. “I realize you have not met my companion. This is Sir Seth.”

A sir. Another knight. Clearly the customs of the high court were very different. In her father’s court, squires were young apprentices, new to the life of knighthood. This was their opportunity to learn the ropes and sometimes to shine and win the favor of the king when it was time to select new knights to his order.

“Nice to meet you too, Sir Seth.”

“Quite the lady for our prince,” said Niall. “Talk at the palace has not done you justice.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

Seth was still silent.

Her father made a gesture of impatience.

“You must be hungry and tired from the ride,” she said quickly. “We wouldn’t want to delay you from getting to your rooms.”

“Thank you. That is kind, Your Highness,” said Niall.

She smiled at him, then looked at his quiet companion. Seth was looking at something behind her. Rude, she thought. Or perhaps just distracted.

She had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

A servant came and led the two knights to their rooms.

*

Finally, she was gone. Seth didn’t know how much longer he could have endured it.

Court ladies were always a bit of a nuisance, but this one was a pro. It was as if every word, every gesture, every muscle in her face, the very tone in which she uttered each sentence was aligned with court behavior to such an extent that it was mechanic.

How did they get that way, and why? Was it considered attractive?

Of course, he too had once fallen for it, and Niall would at times hint that that was his reason for disliking them. But thatwould never happen again.

He lay down on the bed, exhausted, and tried to forget that he’d have to see Kimberley, or Kim as he heard the staff call her, at dinner too. Niall had left half an hour earlier and the guest quarters were quiet.

“I’m going to check if there is any news about our coach,” Niall had said before exiting, “and a letter arrived by pigeon from Fergus Mór. Too bad we got here so late in the day. I would have liked a lesson before the big feast tonight.”

“We can do one tomorrow.” He liked being Niall’s fencing teacher.

Niall was a good student. He had perfect technique and a vast variety of advances. Catching him off guard was a challenge, and Niall liked being his student because he succeeded. Teaching was interesting, and demanded patience and creativity.

But it wasn’t anything like the tournaments. He missed them. He’d sometimes think about them, remembering what the sword in his hand had felt like, before he’d damaged his wrist in battle. Everything had been difficult since, but he was still good enough to teach. At least that, he still had.

Memories of the tournament hall were often hard to shake: seeing King Fergus Mór looking on; knowing that soon victory would be his. But the hardest memories were not of the sword fights, or the doctors and wizards who worked hard to do everything they could to heal the wound and failed.

The hardest memories were of silk and embroidery and deep, mysterious eyes that belonged to someone he desperately tried to forget.

The sound of footsteps disrupted his train of thought, bringing his sharp senses to focus. They came from the other room. The door in between was half open.

He concentrated. It was definitely not Niall. These were lighter steps.

Whoever was there opened a drawer, then closed it. Then another one. Items were being moved.

He reached for his sword and put it on the bed beside him silently. The golden box was with him, and he placed it carefully on the table next to the bed. Then, he waited, alert, observing.

The sounds got closer to the door, and then moved farther away. There was a shadow of a person.

Seth pulled the blanket to cover himself and his sword and pretended to sleep. The footsteps came closer once again. This time, the door between the rooms moved, and the man stepped inside.

The man crept around the room, as if trying to find something in the dark. He took a few steps closer, to see whether Seth was asleep. Then, he turned. Without making a sound, he picked up the box from the table.

“Put that back down,” Seth commanded. He’d been quick. He sat upright, the sharp edge of his sword touching the intruder’s back.

The man laughed. “Or you’ll what?”

“I said, put it down.” He got up.

“I don’t think so.” The stranger took a step forward toward the table and then turned, quickly drawing his own sword.

Seth smiled. “I don’t want trouble and neither do you.”

“You talk too much!” said the man and, in a swift movement, he backed toward the window and closed the curtain and darkened the room even more.

It was an advantage, to be in the dark. Seth had fought in almost complete darkness before, and he doubted the man had had the experience. “Again. Put the box back on the table.”

“No.”

And then, their blades met.

The man was skilled. He had good moves and advances. In a longer fight, he would have won.

But then, that was always the challenge. How to spot and go straight for the opponent’s weakest point, catch him off guard. It was what he’d been teaching Niall. Speed was a far better strength than stamina. No one knew that better than a fighter with an injured wrist: a man who had to count on his instincts to serve him where his strength would fail.

His sword flew above the man, who ducked successfully, only to find the weapon approach him again immediately from below, sending his own sword flying across the room.

The fight was over in a matter of seconds, with Seth’s sword pointed at the man’s neck.

He walked around him to the window, and opened the curtains. The man was dressed in noble attire, but his shoes were worn.

“Who are you?”

The man didn’t answer.

“More importantly, why do you want the treaty?” He shifted the tip of his blade, pressing against the man’s throat.

The man was motionless, smiling.

“Fine,” said Seth. “We can do this the hard way.”

Chapter 2

Oxford, Present Day

I never knew my parents as Mark and Julie Ralston. To me, they were always Markus and Julia Taylor. The identities that they had chosen.

I discovered the truth about our family on my sixteenth birthday, when my mom took me to Glastonbury for a weekend and we had the talk. Only mine wasn’t about guys and safety.

It had convinced me that we were by far the weirdest family at my school. Of course, I had already made that statement many times before.

After all, we had magic.

I was at my final year of college now, eager to graduate and start my own independent life. I was president of the JCR—the Junior Common Room—which meant that I was out in the college quad every day, welcoming the new students and teachers.

This year was more quiet than last. By Wednesday, I was almost alone at my stall, with most freshers sleeping in, tired from the wide range of social events.

“You’d think by now they’d start showing up to the guest lectures,” said Jane Omondi, my best friend, who was helping set up the newcomers program.

“It’s the beginning of Freshers Week. They’re busy meeting people.”

“They’ll meet a lot of people at the lecture halls, if more of them showed up.”

I giggled.

Jane had a unique personality that combined her affectionate, warm nature with strict ideals about how committed people should be at school. You had to know her to get it. Most people just loved her because she was so caring and down-to-earth.

But when you got close, you also saw her sophistication. That, and the amount of effort it took her to get to where she was.

She was raised by a single mom, who immigrated from Kenya when Jane was fifteen, and her dream was to become a literature professor. English was her second language, but it was hard to tell, because she spoke it so well.

She worked hard. When we were in our freshmen year, she’d organize study groups for exams. Now she was helping the college with hosting guest professors, and was on a first-name basis with some of the leading names in her field of literature.

“They’ll come, Jane. They can’t party forever.”

“Well, they better do it tomorrow. It took me a lot of effort to get the Morganstein lecture set up. I was ready to bang my head on my computer screen.”

“I know.”

The lecture was with Fiona Morganstein, a world- renowned researcher from Edinburgh, and Jane wanted to make a strong impression. Morganstein’s team had a position opening for a masters student and Jane was giving it all she had.

“I’m sure there will be a good turnout this time.” I tried to sound more optimistic than I was. So far, attendance to parties far surpassed that of lectures and the two were mutually exclusive, for obvious reasons. People needed sleep. “So, did you hear from the summer conference in Paris?” I changed the subject.

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Gosh! I completely forgot to tell you. I got in. And they’re paying for me to come!”

“What? Wow. That’s great, Jane! It will be a door-opener for you.”

“I sure hope so. I’ve already applied for one of their post-graduate posts. They only have two new positions for next year. It’s a drying well over there.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll dazzle them. And I’m sure you’ll impress the professor tomorrow.”

“You’re coming, you know.” She gave me a slightly sharp look.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Kim!”

“I have to run an event tonight. I’ll do whatever I can to make it. I know what it means to you.”

An alarm went off on her phone, signaling that she needed to go to her shift at the library. She turned it off and looked at two boxes of pamphlets that I needed to take there. “Should I grab one of these?”

“Oh, that would be great! Thanks.”

She lifted the heavy box and smiled. “Well…Got to go now. Enjoy your time at the booth.” And she was off.

I was actually almost done, and the next person was already supposed to be here for me to hand over some things to. But it seemed nobody bothered to arrive anywhere on time during Freshers Week.

I watched Jane walk away slowly.

Her college experience was different than mine. She knew from day one that she wanted to become a professor. And she was committed to it, finishing every year with an overall distinction and winning scholarship prizes. She had bursaries to pay for her boarding and supplemented those by doing library shifts and working as staff for summer conferences.

Fortunately, she also managed to get serious in other aspects of her life. She was engaged to her sophomore-year boyfriend, Oliver, a Philosophy, Politics and Economics student from a small village in Ireland.

I sometimes felt we were polar opposites.

To begin with, I didn’t want to go to college, but my parents had pushed. Only one of my high school friends went—Tilly, who studied art history in Spain, and would speak with the rest of us once a month at most.

The other two, Scarlett and Mindy, started a beauty salon in West London. Scarlett’s father, who was an accountant in a big firm, got them set up with a place and helped them hire a manager to run it. They now had a thriving business and a beautiful website with pictures of them working with famous clients.

I wanted to join them, but my parents were dead set against it. Especially my dad, who was always on my side, except in this case.

We were close, despite my constant fight for independence. My mom was caring and strong. Beautiful inside and out and a good listener. But whenever something happened, I’d go to him. I could trust that he would understand. He invested a lot of his time in me and my younger brother, Harley. He was down-to-earth and I knew we could see things eye to eye. Except for this.

I argued that in his previous life, back in New York, it was his entrepreneurial skills that made him successful and not any university knowledge. He said that if I truly felt that way, he’d pay for me to study business.

We fought about it a lot. Eventually, I figured that if I applied and didn’t get into the place he wanted, he’d let it go.

He wanted Oxford.

He prepared me for the interviews. He had a natural gift for that type of thing, speaking to people in a convincing way. I was afraid that he would take it personally when I didn’t get in, but I had to show him that even with the best efforts, I would still fail. And I didn’t use any magic.

I got in with a full scholarship to study literature.

I was miserable all summer. It was Mindy who said that I could be happy here. She still lived at home, while getting the salon off the ground. She said college would be my ticket out of the house. I’d always spoken about how much I wanted to be on my own, away from my family. It was also close to London and we could meet up a lot.

She was persuasive and it actually worked out well. Even for social events here. For tonight’s party, Scarlett’s boyfriend, the up-and-coming London DJ, Tyler Clash, was coming to do the first hour of music. She was too busy to make it, but we said we’d meet up soon.

I had to text Tyler to ensure everything was good to go with his travel arrangements. Then, I tried to call the volunteer who was supposed to replace me in the stall. She was now half an hour late.

Her name was Veronica Hobbs, a second-year music student who had arrived a week early. I hadn’t had a chance to meet her yet, but she seemed keen on the phone. In spite of this enthusiasm, she hadn’t answered any of my previous texts today, and her phone rang now without a response.

“Excuse me,” said a soft voice.

I looked up and put the phone down. “Sorry.” I got up from my seat and smiled. “I didn’t notice…”

She was a young girl, with an eager smile. In her hand was the handle of a neat pink suitcase with large wheels.

“Sorry. Yes, how can I help?”

“I can’t find my dorm. I’ve been walking around, but the signs aren’t clear. My parents are going to arrive with the rest of my things really soon.” She spoke fast. Stressed. “I can’t understand this map at all.” She showed me a folded sheet with markings.

“Oh, actually, that’s close to us. I’ll come show you.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Just let me leave a note with my number, if anyone is looking for me. I’m Kim Taylor, by the way.”

“Zhi Ruo Wang.” She shook my hand.

“Welcome to Christ Church college, Zhi Ruo.”

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was already mesmerized by the beauty of it.

I jotted my name and number on a piece of paper, and picked up the box of pamphlets to drop at the library on my way back.

We started walking toward her dorm.

“You don’t mind leaving your personal phone number there like that?” she asked.

“It’s on the brochures anyhow. I’m president of the Junior Common Room.” I had decided to hand over the post this year, but my number was still on the pamphlets, because the next president hadn’t been selected yet.

“Wow!”

“Thanks. So, what are you going to study?”

“Physics. How about you? What do you study?”

“Literature.”

“Oh, you must read so many books.” She seemed impressed, which was surprising considering her major was in science and mine wasn’t.

“I just like reading.”

“I like equations.” She giggled. “But, I do read.”

She seemed very nice. We reached her door a few minutes later, still talking about books. Zhi Ruo searched for her keys, and I put down my heavy box and took a breath.

“I’m actually handing over the post this year.” I handed her one of the pamphlets. “You should apply, that is, if it won’t interfere too much with your studies. Oh, and since you just arrived, there’s a party tonight, at the Junior Common Room. You should come. You’ll get to meet people from the college.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, opened the door, and pulled the heavy suitcase into the hall. “I might just do that. I will see you at the party?”

“Sure.”

The door closed behind her, and I bent down to pick up the box. As I turned back, I felt a sudden pain in my side and stumbled forward, realizing that the door had opened when I moved and someone had just walked straight into me. The box fell to the floor, spilling its contents into a muddy puddle.

“Are you all right?”

I turned. A guy stood right beside me.

“Fine,” I managed. But my side hurt badly.

He looked around at the mess. Half the brochures were in the mud. “I can help you get them.”

“Thanks, but I think it’s too late. We’ll have to throw those away.” I started to pick them up. A soft, warm feeling spread through me as my magic healed the wound. I stopped it. I was always extra careful not to be noticed using my powers.

He joined me, silently picking up the pamphlets.

I kept waiting for him to apologize for having bumped into me, but he still hadn’t done it when he handed me the last brochure. He just pulled out a canvas bag from his pocket and put them all into it.

“Here.” He handed me the bundle. “You should really recycle those.”

He had the nerve! “Thanks. I’ll be sure to learn good manners from you.”

“What?”

I had surprised him.

“You’re very welcome for the help!” he said with evident anger.

“Hey, you bumped into me.” And still hadn’t apologized, I wanted to add.

“No. You bumped into me. You weren’t even looking when you moved with that box, standing right outside a dorm entrance.”

“I was helping a freshmen. I’m head of the Junior Common Room.”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

What was his problem? I took a deep breath. “Okay, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I’m Kim. I get that this is a hard week for everyone. So, how about I welcome you, uh…”

“Seth. The name’s Seth. And I’ve already been here for a year. Well, not at this college.”

A year? He seemed too old for a second-year student, but some people came here at a later age.

“So you’re a sophomore.”

“I’m a masters student.”

Oh. He was looking away from me. I had to be polite, though I didn’t want to be there either. “So…what do you study?”

“Computer science. You?”

“Literature.”

“A Charles Dickens fan?” He looked at me now.

“Yes, actually. My favorite is Great Expectations.”

The look changed to that of interest. “Mine too. I like what he did with Estella. Showing that the princess femme fatale was really a nut head.”

“What? No, she wasn’t. She was miserable, because she wasn’t free to be who she wanted to be.”

For a moment, it seemed my words had impressed him. Though, part of me couldn’t help but wonder, from the way he had said the word princess, if there wasn’t a hidden insult there. I decided not to let this go on any further. “Anyhow…I must leave now. It was nice meeting you.” I gave him a short smile.

“You too.” He picked up the box, handing it to me, and placed the canvas bag on top of it.

“Thanks.” I walked away, trying to put this Seth guy out of my mind.

The college was quiet, and it was easy to find a hidden spot where nobody would see what I was about to do.

I closed my eyes and thought of the wet pamphlets in the bag. Pamphlets, be clean and dry! Pamphlets, be clean and dry! I concentrated on the image in my mind, of what the pamphlets had looked like before.

Magic started deep inside me and rushed through me, from my core and through my fingers to the bag. I felt something move, straighten, lighten. Then, I opened my eyes and peeped into the bag.

The contents were clean and dry. I took the risk and let my powers heal my painful side, and then I walked to the library, remembering how much I loved having magic.

“What’s in the bag?” Jane asked, when I put the box on top of the one she’d brought.

“Pamphlets that had fallen. Some guy bumped into me.”

“Well, then he should have helped you carry it here.”

“Good point.” Her way of seeing it immediately put me at ease.

She opened the bag to examine its contents. “You’re lucky. They’re all dry.”

For a moment, I felt tense. I’d never told Jane, or anyone, about the magic. “Yes. Very lucky.”

“You’re okay, right? He was just an idiot.” She put a warm hand on my shoulder. She must have sensed my stress without knowing its real cause. “And people are all crazy this week. Can’t find a straight head on campus.”

“Yes. They are.”

“Should I make you a cup of tea?”

“No. Actually, I have to get back to my post. My replacement didn’t show up.”

“Who is it?”

“Veronica Hobbs.”

“The music student?” She opened a drawer and took out a student card. “Someone brought this in a few minutes ago. Said they found it near Tom Tower.”

She handed me the card. On it was the picture of a curly-haired girl, almost too young to have finished high school, smiling shyly. “Have you tried calling her?”

“Yes. I also texted her. How could she leave this behind?”

Jane chuckled. “Should I show you the lost and found box…or should I remind you of the time that your own card was in it?”

A few minutes later, I headed back to the booth. When I turned from the library to the quad, I could already see that it was empty. When the next student showed up, almost two hours afterward, I asked him whether he knew Veronica.

He said that he did and he saw her earlier, talking with someone near Magdalene College. He waved to her and she looked at him, but didn’t wave back. Then, a car stopped by and she got in, hurriedly. The person she was with just kept walking.

“Strange.”

“Do you think something happened to her?” he asked.

“Probably not, but I’ll text her again, and leave a message with security right now.”

There was still no word from her when I was preparing for the evening back in my dorm. Security had said not to worry, that people could often be unavailable during Freshers Week, but I didn’t feel relieved.

Before going to shower, I sent an email to her, and to the welcome booth volunteers – to text me if they saw her.

There was nothing more I could do, so I tried not to think about it too much when I was getting ready, hoping that I would hear from her by morning, or even just meet her at the party and she’d say that she had lost her phone.

Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I was getting dressed.

Jane texted that some guy walked into the library and saw his bag with the pamphlets in it. She said he seemed very nice and had asked her to apologize for what happened. I wondered whether she had knocked some sense into him.

She also wrote that he completely exaggerated the situation, saying that the brochures had ended up in the mud, and she had to tell him that most of them were clean and dry.

It made me wonder how she would have reacted if she found out the truth about my being a witch. I didn’t know why I never told her. I guess it was because magic often confused me.

Just because I was a witch didn’t mean that I could do whatever I wanted. Magic took concentration and could really tire you.

It was also not completely mine to enjoy. It was in the service of mortals. Your powers were just waiting. Given to you only so that you could protect someone else. Someone you would meet and fall in love with, for life. Your Charge. I sometimes thought it wasn’t fair that my greatest gift was nothing more than a service for someone else.

To add to it, those born to magic couldn’t use it to get ahead, or bestow influence to anyone else. The magic got undone when we tried.

Of course, I also had the added stress of my parents’ story that meant that both me and Harley, had to keep magic a secret, so I didn’t really have any witch friends to share it with. I often wished that I at least had that. Then, I could help people like Veronica.

There was a buzz on my phone. I glanced at it.

“Hi, it’s Zhi Ruo. Sorry to bother you, but I was just checking the form for the JCR president.”

“Hi, Zhi Ruo. Glad you are applying. Do you have questions?” I texted back.

“No. But I’m having issues with the system. It keeps crashing. I understand you’re announcing the candidates tonight.”

“Yes.” I texted and glanced at the clock. There was plenty of time before I’d have to get going. Maybe my inability to help Veronica put me in a mood to try to help her. “You can use my computer, if you need to.”

“Really?” she replied. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“It’s not a problem at all.” I texted her my address. Luckily, my room was very easy to find.

For some reason, it took her awhile to get there, and I was beginning to worry that I might be late.

“Sorry. I got lost on the way,” she said when she finally arrived, and I opened the door to let her in.

“Don’t worry about it. I have the form open and ready.”

She smiled thankfully and took a seat at my desk. “Will you be presenting us?”

“Each candidate will be presenting themselves. But, if you want, I can help you with a couple of tips. We can talk on the way to the JCR.”

“Wow! That would be great.”

“I’m in a bit of a hurry, so just do your best with the form.”

“Of course.” She turned to the computer and started typing her answers.

My makeup needed one last touch, and I moved away from the desk to my sink to give her privacy.

With my back toward her, I felt something. Something that completely surprised me.

Zhi Ruo was using magic.

I concentrated. The sensation was clear. She was definitely radiating spell power.

Puzzled, I looked at her through the mirror.

Through a small mirror on my desk, she was looking right back at me.

Chapter 3

Western Scotland, AD 500

It was late when Niall returned to the room.

“What happened here?” was his immediate question.

Seth looked up. He was at the table, examining the golden box. The intruder was lying—unconscious, tied and gagged—on the bed.

“He tried to steal the treaty. I need to know why he wanted it, and who he is working for.”

“Why don’t we just ask him?” said Niall, in a tone that indicated that that type of asking was not something he was unfamiliar with.

“You know I don’t do that,” said Seth. “I gave him a dose of the truth potion instead.”

“You had a truth potion with you?”

“Yeah. You can never know.” The man was asleep, which informed him that the potion was still working its way through his system. It was how the drug acted, twisting the mind when it dreamed. When the effect was complete, he would wake up and they should have a few hours to question him. It was far fairer than torture. “I might have given him a bit too much. He’s been down for a while. Either that, or his mind doesn’t give in easily.”

“How long has it been?”

“Not long after you left.”

“Really?” Niall went to the man and felt his pulse. “Still very weak. Might take a few hours longer.”

“We should find a way to open this box and see why he wanted the treaty.”

“There could be many reasons. Why don’t we just wait until he wakes up?”

He turned to face him. “We’ve both delivered important documents for Fergus Mór before. None of them reeked. Don’t you think it’s suspicious?” Niall could sometimes be too trusting, especially when it came to the people of the court. “Who besides Fergus Mór and Áedán has the key?”