It was a pointless battle. The rebels had stupidly refused when asked to surrender, and now they were all going to die. Arion didn’t care about politics and knew little about the rebels’ motivations, but he doubted that whatever they were fighting for was worth all this loss of life. And so many of them were most likely younger than him.
They didn’t even have a mage of their own. This was going to be little more than one-sided slaughter.
“Pay attention, little brother!”
Arion turned around to see a dead rebel at his feet and Elora pulling her sword out of him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “And thank you.”
She put a hand on his cheek. “You know Her Majesty’s orders. We’re not in any place to defy them.” Her hand fell back to her side, and she looked away. “The rebels knew what they were getting into.”
Arion let out a small sigh. “I’ll shield us and the soldiers and finish this.”
“You’ll be saving many lives, Arion. Think about it that way.”
He wished he didn’t have to sacrifice other people’s lives to do it.
When he was ready, he closed his eyes briefly to focus his power. He always enjoyed the tingling sensation that accompanied the process. When he opened his eyes, the firestorm was already beginning. It quickly spread throughout the battlefield, eventually encompassing all of it. There was fire everywhere, and it was beautiful.
But then there were screams and charred bodies and the stench of death.
As he was clenching and unclenching his fists to keep himself from throwing up, Elora said, “It’s over. Let’s go meet Father.”
They found Father near the army camp, talking to the queen. They were both covered in blood and there was a gash on the queen’s right arm, but she didn’t seem to care.
“So that’s our mysterious hero,” the queen said, her hard gaze focused on Arion.
Arion and Elora each went to one knee in front of the queen.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Father said, sounding nervous. “This is my son, Arion. I admit I wasn’t happy when I learned he had magic, but I’ve come to appreciate what he can do.”
“Your son’s power bothered you, Lord Killian?” The queen raised an eyebrow. “It’s a gift.”
“He… caused some accidents when he was younger, Your Majesty. Many accidents. And punishments didn’t curb his excessive curiosity or his need to test the limits of his power. He still sometimes fails to control his magic, but at least I know how to make his excessive power useful for the crown.”
Arion gritted his teeth and looked at the ground.
“Rise, young ones.” He and Elora stood, but before they could say anything, the queen followed it up with, “Perhaps instead of punishments, a teacher would have sufficed.” She didn’t attempt to hide the judgment in her voice. She looked Arion over, stopping longer on his face. He nearly ducked his head under her scrutiny, but managed to endure until she gave him a slight smile and patted his arm.
“Tell me, Arion, did you learn how to use magic all on your own?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Arion wasn’t going to lie to the queen herself.
“And how old are you?”
“Nineteen, Your Majesty.”
“Perfect.” She turned to Father. “Expect my envoy tomorrow, Lord Killian.”
A chill ran down Arion’s spine. The queen clearly had some interest in him and it seemed obvious the envoy would come with business pertaining to him. Did the queen intend to force him into her army so she could deploy him without having to go through Father first? He wouldn’t exactly miss his home, Elora and Ollie aside, but he’d still been holding a faint hope that he would one day be allowed to travel and find someone to teach him. The life of a drafted battlemage was definitely not suitable for him—he doubted he could handle the discipline involved, and he knew he would cause trouble with his magic when stressed.
Back in the castle, he and Elora were immediately welcomed by Ollie.
“Are you both all right?” he asked. “I was so worried.”
“We’re okay,” Elora said. “Just tired.”
Arion nodded. “I really need a shower.”
“And sleep,” Elora added.
“And sleep,” he agreed, smiling.
Ollie scrunched his nose. “You should definitely shower first, but then you should eat. I’ll ask the servants to prepare something.”
“No need to bother the servants,” Arion said. “I don’t think I’ll eat more than a sandwich.”
“Fine, fine, as long as you eat something. I’ll be waiting in the dining room.”
Arion started disrobing the moment he closed the door to his rooms. He dropped his clothes on the floor and untied his hair, letting it spill down his shoulders. When he entered the shower and the hot water hit him, he let out a long, contented sigh. Although he could have lingered in this state for a long time, he hurriedly washed himself, as he knew Ollie and Elora were waiting for him. After using a towel to dry his body, he used magic to dry his long hair.
He really needed a powerful mage to teach him. He’d summoned a firestorm while shielding himself and the soldiers, and yet he could still use magic without trouble. With no one to guide him, he would never learn what he was capable of. But neither Father nor Mother wanted him to learn. He knew they were afraid, but he still couldn’t help feeling bitter about the way they treated him. If they loved him, they didn’t make any effort to show it.
He shook himself out of his miserable thoughts, then dressed in black pants and a white shirt, not bothering to tie his hair back, and went to the dining room.
“That was a long shower,” Ollie said as Arion entered.
Arion sat in a chair opposite his brother. “Sorry. I may have spaced out a little.”
“Are you okay?” Elora asked, moving to the chair on his left. She frowned. “Sorry, stupid question. Here, Ollie made these.” She pushed a plate filled with sandwiches in front of him.
Arion grabbed a sandwich. “Thanks. And I’ll be fine, Elora. How were your lessons today, Ollie?”
“Great! Master Leon says I’ll make a fine scholar one day. I hope he’s right because our parents will be disappointed if I don’t get into the best university in the kingdom. Did you know that once you become a professor there, you get your own estate?”
Arion suspected that was the main reason their parents had been so supportive of Ollie’s talents. But he was glad that at least Ollie would most likely live a life he wanted to live.
“You’ll definitely get into that university,” he said, smiling at his brother. “But I don’t envy you all the marriage proposals that will follow.”
“Oh no, I didn’t think of that!”
Arion heard Elora’s little giggle beside him.
Although Ollie was only sixteen, he already knew what he didn’t want from life. If he ever married, it would be strictly for convenience, though Arion was certain he would rather not marry at all. Sadly, their parents were unlikely to make things easy for him. They had been grumbling about Elora’s constant rejections of potential spouses, so he didn’t imagine Ollie would escape similar treatment. This was one reason he was grateful for his own situation—as a mage, he was a tremendous asset, and Father wanted to keep him around as long as he could. It didn’t help with the ‘finding a teacher’ issue, but it did save him from being forced to marry. The victories Arion brought were Father’s victories, and Father was the one to get all the praise from other important nobles and the queen.
Until now.
Now the queen herself knew about Arion. And it filled him with trepidation.
“…so we’ll protect you from any unwanted advances, baby brother,” he heard Elora say, and realized he’d missed some of the conversation. Fortunately, the subject hadn’t changed.
“I should hope so!” Ollie laughed.
“I’m already working on my ‘embarrassing potential suitors’ magic,” Arion said, nodding sagely.
“Now I want to have suitors just so I could see it!”
“Speaking of magic,” Elora said, “the queen seemed to have taken an interest in you after seeing your performance in battle. What do you think she wants? Because if she’s sending an envoy, she clearly wants something.”
Arion finished his sandwich and drank some water. “I’ve been thinking about it and the only thing that comes to mind is that she wants me under her direct command.”
“You mean she would take you away?” Ollie said, alarmed. “Would Father allow it?”
“She’s the queen, so what choice would he have?” He shook his head. “But there’s nothing we can accomplish by worrying about it. We’ll know tomorrow. And whatever happens, I’m sure we’ll still be able to see each other regularly.” He hoped his smile was as reassuring as intended.
There was one thing he hadn’t considered before—perhaps in the royal castle he would actually be allowed to have someone teach him. The queen, at least, didn’t seem to be scared of his magic. But being too optimistic wasn’t helpful either, so he needed to stop thinking about the thing altogether and just get some rest.
He excused himself and went back to his rooms. Going through his evening routine helped him relax a bit, but in the end he found it impossible not to think about all those people he’d killed today and about the envoy that was supposed to arrive tomorrow. What message could the queen’s envoy bring? The idea of being forced to become a soldier terrified him, and what else could this be about?
And I told Ollie that worrying was pointless.
He lay down and pulled the duvet up to his neck, then shut his eyes and waited for sleep to claim him.
But sleep apparently had other plans.
After tossing and turning for what had felt like more than an hour, he got out of bed, dressed haphazardly, and went outside. He needed to expend more energy if he wanted to fall asleep, but he had to do it in a way that wouldn’t wake up the entire castle.
So he just made plants grow—lots of flowers as well as some shrubs and a few trees. The effort left him panting and barely able to stand, which was a satisfying result. This time, sleep would not elude him. And since Mother was away, he would only have to listen to Father’s complaints in the morning.
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