“Now, I know you’re lying,” he pulled away from her skin.  She drifted after him, searching for magic where there was none.  He let out a soft laugh and her limbs locked.

          “That’s my girl,” his voice was deep and sweet.  Almost as if he really cared, her stomach soured as he tucked a braid behind her ear, “Where’s your violin?”

          Move.

          She stared at him with wide eyes, as if she’d been caught in some sort of trap.  He wasn’t hurting her. She searched his face. His eyes were kind.  Was that enough?

          Move.

Her hand curled around air.

          Her violin. She swallowed nervously and forced her thoughts to form through the panic raging between her ears. 

“I, uhm, I haven’t gotten it?”

          The Grand Mage frowned his hand dropping to his side, “The escort’s waiting.”

          Escort?

          What in Naya’s hells did they need an escort for?

She crossed the room as quickly as her dress would allow retrieving her instrument before returning to the Grand Mage’s outstretched hand. He stepped closer to her at the last moment, wrapping his arms around her waist.  He lifted her easily, spinning her once before setting her down.

It’d all happened so quickly all Issi could do was stare.

He smiled at her confusion and pressed his lips against her forehead before holding her at arm’s length, “I love you, Issi.”

And she honestly believed he thought that was the truth, “I love you too, sir Grand Mage.”

His eyes lit and he kissed her deeply as he guided her through the doorway. 

The escort straightened abruptly from where he’d been readying to poke at a moving statuette.  His ears reddened and his gaze dropped to the floor as the Grand Mage pressed Issi against the wall.  Her master’s hand had started to wind its way beneath her skirt when the young man, boy really, gave a polite cough.

The Grand Mage nipped at Issi’s lip and backed away reluctantly as Issi tried her best to appear as if she wasn’t desperate to breathe.  Or retch.  A wave of nausea hit her so hard it made her dizzy.

The escort brushed self-consciously at his tunic, flashing the insignia that crossed his front.  A snake winding around a scepter.

          It was good to see that the Zeilid family had continued to think highly of itself during Issi’s impromptu exile.

          “Good morn—, evening,” the boy flushed as his voice cracked, he began anew, “Good evening, Sir Niao and…miss…” he trailed off uncertainly as his eyes landed on Issi’s collar.

          “Anders,” her master supplied shortly.

          The boy fidgeted, his eyes raking over Issi’s form, “Miss Anders,” he returned his attention to the Grand Mage, “Will we be leaving?”

          “An escort is hardly necessary,” the Grand Mage drawled.

          The boy quailed, his eyes darting for the exit, “I—, I, was sent here to…uhm…escort you to the dinner.”

          “The one half-way across the palace?”

          “Uh…yes, that.  That one,” his eyes shifted back to Issi’s collar, “Are—, are you sure?  I mean, do you really want—, that is…your attendance is required, but—"

          The Grand Mage cut him off, “She’s performing.”

          The escort tugged at his tunic again before dropping into a shallow bow, “My apologies.”

          “If he’s going to send you over, you should have been better prepared.”

          The boy paled, “It…it was an oversight.  I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

          Her master straightened, shifting his full attention on the boy at last, “There will be more of you?”

          The child nodded, “I heard that, you’ll be provided an escort to every event…requiring your appearance, until, that is—”

          “I die?”

The boy flinched and looked to the floor like he wished for it to swallow him.  His answer came soft, “Until you retire.”

          “So, I’m retiring now?”

          He shifted, his face gaining an unhealthy pallor.

          “Master, do you think I’ll need to set up soon?” Issi asked, there wasn’t much she could do.  She couldn’t accept Ardein’s offer, she couldn’t be mage, and she’d never survive alone outside the palace. But sparing a child?  She could at least try.

          The Grand Mage glanced at her and relaxed, “Yes…yes, you will.”

          He kissed her cheek, brushing a stray braid that’d tumbled between her eyes.  The boy stilled, his eyes wide, like he hadn’t thought her master capable of such tenderness.

She stiffened as the Grand Mage’s hand slid down her arm.  He pulled her until she pressed against him. The rapid, thrumthrumthrum of his heart echoed through her body.

The hand that held her trembled.

Her forehead crinkled as she pressed her hand over his. A dozen explanations shifted past her. 

          The Grand Mage couldn’t be afraid.

          He didn’t get scared. 

Issi forgot all about the escort and the King’s Dinner and her stupid little performance. She pulled away from her master, just far enough to see his face in earnest.  The thrumthrumthrum continued to drive against her as she took in the wild look about his eyes and the slight tremble in his lips, no, no, no, no.

Lord Gadna Niao, the Grand Mage of Qasha, did not get scared.

          Her mouth opened before she’d decided what to say, “You’ll be perfect.”

          His eyes searched hers with a desperation that only served to compound her unease, “Is that right?”

Her heart hammered, matching his beat for beat as she nodded.  Ose willing, the fear that’d settled in his eyes would disappear.

He snapped at the escort, “Don’t you have a job to do?”

Issi stared at the boy as if he’d ghosted through the room.  Did he see the way her master looked?  Could he tell?  Or was it only her who felt like the sun and moons had switched places in the skies and wondered if the ground beneath them was still solid?

The escort’s cheeks warmed, and he avoided her gaze, “Yes, Grand Mage, uh, sir, we’ll be on our way then?”

          Her master nodded, his jaw tight.  The hand that sat on her waist started to dig into her skin.

          Trembling.

She stumbled as the Grand Mage’s grip tightened.  The muscle in his jaw bounced as he worked on grinding his teeth to stumps as they navigated the castle’s vast halls.

Large marble pillars manifested as they neared the ballroom, their white structures spun into giant trees with emerald leaves.  Small birds hid in their branches, their feathers crafted from azurite and lapis winked in the evening light.  Issi had always wondered if they were the reason for the Grand Mage’s fixation, she glanced at her master and felt her worry renew itself.

          His eyes pinned to the floor.  He looked more like a child being dragged about than the most powerful mage in Qasha. What had happened?  What had changed?  Surely, it wasn’t the existence of the child before them that’d set him acting this way.

          Was it?

          Their escort stopped before a large stone archway.  The ballroom doors were held open by a series of royal guards who looked straight through them as if Issi and her master were little more than air. 

The boy bowed, muttering a hurried farewell before rushing down a servant’s corridor. 

          The Grand Mage started towards the archway.  Issi thought of her mother’s tales of animals pulled into men, as she watched her master roll back his shoulders and become someone else entirely.

          But the fear was still there.

          She turned away.

Somehow the ballroom was even grander than when she’d left it. Sunlight streamed between the pillars catching in brightly colored fabrics that waved in the breeze coming off the Copros. Small cloth lanterns drifted through the air, the flames they contained sent light bouncing off the jewels suspended from the ceilings.  A large blue flag boasting the royal insignia hang in the center of it all, and everyone who was anyone in all of Qasha seemed to be somewhere beneath it.  The floors were absolutely covered in the soft pastel colors of nobles more in tune with the fashion of the courts.  They looked dainty and prim, like flowers tentatively reaching for the skies.

          From somewhere, a voice boomed, “Announcing mage Gadna Niao.”

          The entire room seemed to fall silent, only the gentle coaxing notes of a ballad played through the air.  No Grand.  Just mage.

          Her master’s mouth opened in surprise.  Issi hoped she’d heard wrong, and failing that, that someone had made some sort of error.

          No correction came.

          She searched for something to say.  Anything to comfort him and help drive away that damned fear that’d flared in his eyes again.  No words came to mind. 

He’d fallen faster than either of them had anticipated.

That was all.

          “It’s…it’s just two bells, master,” her words rang hollow.

          He closed his mouth and forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Two bells.”