My travel plans were quickly shifted to accommodate Gristil’s presence.  It was almost as if Queen Misht had planned for an additional person in advance.  Funny how that works.  Then, with a few additional guards and an extra wagon for baggage, we set out.  The temple was responsible for managing my schedule and they’d given me just a day to speak to each of the gods.  It would be enough time.  Gristil could even follow through on his lie, as it wasn’t like he could accompany me to speak to the gods.  

It might not even be a lie.

Neither of us broached more sensitive topics until we were well outside of the city walls.  The townships surrounding the capital were clustered close together, so we’d only have a day or so on the road between each temple.  It still afforded us plenty of time to talk and there was only so much small talk that one could tolerate.  Gristil picked the first topic and unsurprisingly, it was about my father.

“I’ve suspected for some time that you being the Beloved was entirely his decision,” he said quietly.

I stared pensively out the window.  I couldn’t say I was surprised by this, but I didn’t particularly want to talk about it.

“You have the whole court fooled, if that’s any consolation,” he continued.  “I asked around, shortly after your ascension.  The prevailing opinion was that you’d been working for this for years, that the obedient daughter act was to impress the queen of your loyalty and devotion.”

“Well, this wasn’t my goal, but I’m pleased that the queen values my humble attributes.”

“That’s not true,” he laughed.  “That’s not true at all.  You weren’t selected for your obedience.  You don’t have the queen fooled and I’m not fooled either, Alyere.”

I looked at him sharply.  He leaned back in the carriage seat opposite me, resting an elbow on the door and leaning his head against his fist.  He was having entirely too much fun with this.  At least one of us enjoyed their job.

“Alright,” I snapped.  “I’ll drop the act.  So how did you figure all this out?  There’s people at that court that have known me my whole life and you’ve been here - what, a handful of years?”

“Familiarity can make people blind to what’s right in front of them,” he replied disdainfully.  “An outsider can sometimes see things differently.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He owed me an answer and he knew it.  He turned away from my stare and he looked… sad.

“My family did something similar,” he replied.  “I come from a nation of mages and magic runs strong in all the ruling families, including my own.  I was… a considerable talent as a child.  My family pushed me into the academy and the academy wanted to turn me into a prodigy.  I got in over my head and the backlash from a spell… well.”

He gently touched the burn scar on his face.

“You’re a mage,” I said in surprise.

“I was a mage,” he corrected gently.  “The skill atrophies and after a few years of disuse, it’s gone entirely.  I was so scared of my own power that I… stopped using it.  It was considered a great tragedy.  I became an ambassador so I wouldn’t have to see them staring at me in pity every day.”

“Could you… relearn?”

He shook his head and sadly stared out the window.

“No, the time for that has long passed.  It can’t be reclaimed after a certain point.”

I was stunned.  I’d never heard of such a thing.  Of course, I admittedly didn’t know much about the Kingdom of Niea or their mages, but this seemed like something I’d have been informed about after the first time Gristil started courting for my goodwill.

Queen Misht would know he once had the capacity for magic.  She did due diligence on who was being sent to her court, especially someone from a nation of mages.  I was just a little surprised she hadn’t told me.  It seemed like important information.

“Every year some student at the academy comes up with the brilliant theory that your nation doesn’t have magic because you don’t train anyone in time,” he said absently, still staring moodily at the passing countryside.  “Then they have to be gently pointed to a study that was done a generation ago, in which we were allowed to survey your nation’s children for magical talent.  They found none.  You are unique among the nations.”

“Not quite,” I countered.  “The Bright Empire has neither mages nor gods.”

“I have my doubts about that.”  He grimaced.  “Gods, certainly, they don’t have those.  But mages?  I think they have them, but stamp it out.  Their kings don’t like to share power and mages, well, there’s not a lot to stop them if they want to rule.”

Was that a threat or a careless remark?  I honestly wasn’t sure and if I wasn’t sure, then it wasn’t something I could report to Queen Misht.  I didn’t want to start a war because I’d made a mistake.

“Anyway,” he continued.  “I resented my family for a long time.  I still do, to a small degree.  Not sure that’ll ever go away.  I can’t help but think how different things would be if they hadn’t pushed me into something I wasn’t ready for.”

Okay.  This was my moment.  I sighed a little.  He wouldn’t reveal anything important to me without a little trust and there wouldn’t be trust unless there was vulnerability.  

“I resent my father,” I said quietly.  “I didn’t want this at all.  And there’s no way out of it.”

“It’s quite unfair, isn’t it?  That our futures get stolen from us in an instant.  I didn’t even want to be a mage, but that’s how it is for children with the talent.  We don’t get a choice in the matter.”

“Seems cruel,” I murmured.

“Any more cruel than turning people into gods?” he asked wryly.

“At least the gods have no regrets once they’re gods.  But mind you don’t make that sort of comment in front of the commoners.  They’re less disillusioned than I am.”

“Do I look like an amateur?” he said with a smile.

No, he certainly wasn’t.  But neither was I.  If nothing else, this was going to be a very interesting trip.