They left me alone.
Blake, Adel, Nimor: all of them. Off to deal with Sunny's death: meetings, plans, discussions. Without me.
Of course. Without me.
They believe me, but that doesn't mean they trust me.
Or is it the other way around? Maybe this is their way of tucking me safely away while I still wander this world like a blind kitten, unable to see what's real?
"You couldn't even tell mages apart." Blake's voice rose in my head. Cold. Too precise. Irritatingly true.
I hate that he's right.
To go out into this world without knowing the rules, the borders, even the mages: that's not courage. That's stupidity.
But I saw the black shadow in the kitchen. And no one, not even him, will make me believe otherwise.
All right. Enough of being naïve. Nimor said, be more attentive. So I will.
Exhale. Shake off the clinging chill of thoughts.
Enough whining. If I want my words to be heard, I have to stop sounding helpless.
I got up, paced the room. Studied the map of the continent again: borders, foreign names, strange lines.
Then, the papers on the table. Important, by the look of them. I read… and I understood.
I could read.
Perhaps I could write as well.
A small thing, but something jolted in my chest, as if memory were pounding at the door, but I would not open it.
Fear slid under my skin. Behind it: panic. But I crushed them.
And my feet carried me there.
Into his bedroom.
To that brazenly spacious bed. Twice the size of mine. Like Blake himself: taller, broader, all "I command the castle and your life."
I ran my palm across the coverlet and gasped. Soft as a cloud. On the bed: eight pillows. Eight.
The comfort of a former prince. Coldness on the outside, a kingdom of sleep within.
I gave a short laugh. But somehow with a smile.
I wonder when he'll come back?
My body no longer obeyed me. I climbed carefully onto the bed. The softness embraced me, like warm magic.
I only lay down for a second. One. And didn't notice when sleep pulled me under.
Sweet. Almost criminal.
I felt wind.
Warm, light. It brushed my cheeks, my lips… so gently that for a second I thought it was his hands.
Blake.
My heart jolted. I sat up, and the dream shattered.
He was there. Real. Alive.
And, damn it, half-naked.
Without a word he was fastening on the snow-white armour I'd seen by the river. Muscles shifted under his skin with each motion, and the white armour moulded to his body.
"Pass me the belt with the crystals. Second drawer from the top," he said evenly. Not a request. An order. He nodded toward the chest across the room.
No questions. No surprise. No explanations. Just kept dressing.
I jumped up. Traces of sleep still swam in my head.
In the drawer I found a belt studded with gleaming crystals. They sparkled like tiny stars.
"Fasten it." Another order.
I came closer. My hands trembled, but I pretended I was in control. He stood still. Didn't help.
The belt slid through my fingers, and the skin on them seemed to remember what it was like to touch someone too closely. I heard his breathing: quiet, steady, but with a rasp on the exhale, as if he were controlling something else. His scent held me in place: fresh, warm, with a spicy bitterness. And each time the buckle clinked, it felt too loud in this silence. My chest almost brushed his armour. I felt the heat through the fabric. Too close.
He looked straight at me. In silence.
I avoided his eyes, which only made the tension worse.
My fingers touched the buckle. I nearly brushed his stomach.
Everything inside me flinched.
Calm down, Biana. It's just a belt. Just crystals. Just the High Mage. Half-naked. You in his bedroom. That's all.
"What kind of crystals are these?" I forced the words out.
"Additional mana," he replied in a lecture tone, as though he weren't standing before me half-naked.
"If a battle drags on, or you spend more magic than you have mana, we use the crystals. You can draw mana from earth, water, air, any natural source. But natural mana is unstable. The crystals are concentrated. Their efficiency in battle is higher."
Battle.
He was going into battle.
I swallowed.
The words stuck somewhere in my chest, beside the unease spreading across my skin.
"You're going into battle?" I asked, looking at the window.
The sun had not yet touched the horizon, but the sky was already darkening. Clearly past midday. Evening was coming. Something was brewing.
"Mana's needed for more than battle," he answered without turning. "Any strong magic requires it. To build a ward. Lift a curse. Influence an object, a body, it doesn't matter. All of it is mana. And the greater the scale, the more it takes."
And before I could take a step back, his hand was at my chin.
Gently. Firmly. He turned my face toward him.
Instinctively I tried to look anywhere but at his half-bared body. My eyes darted: shoulder, wall, window, until at last they met his.
Direct. Steady. Even if everything inside was shaking.
His finger, strict, warm, unceremonious, traced slowly across my lower lip. The skin beneath it burned, though his gaze stayed cold. And that angered me all the more. How could someone be so close and so distant at the same time?
As if testing: was I real.
I pulled back. Turned away and left for the sitting room, hiding the way everything inside had erupted.
I didn't know what was happening to me.
But I certainly didn't want to feel anything. And yet somewhere inside, where memory still breathed, my heart tightened painfully.
As if it whispered: You forgot him.
No. Not now. Don't think. Don't feel. First find out who you are. Then, with whom, and why.
I sank into the chair, trying to banish everything from my mind: his gaze, his finger on my lips, myself on his bed.
It became easier to breathe when he entered fully armoured. The white armour fit him as though it had been cast directly for him.
He stopped at the wall, opened a door I hadn't noticed before.
"Here's the personal Keeper's chamber."
I stepped closer. Stared in surprise at the room now open before me.
It looked like mine, only without a carpet.
Seeing my disappointed look, he immediately asked:
"Something wrong?"
"No, all's well."
I had no right to complain.
"You'll live here until we sort everything out. And maintain the Keeper's legend. The Temple's large, it doesn't remember all its servants, so just..."
"Don't wander the main keep and don't run into Temple people. I remember," I repeated the rule he'd been hammering in since morning.
The sunset stretched outside the window.
"May I go down to the river?"
"Yes." Dryly, without emotion.
I descended the spiral stairs. He walked behind me. Or just happened to be moving in the same flow, I didn't know.
I heard his steps at my back.
On the first floor, he touched my hand. A light, almost careful touch.
His voice stayed strict, but his fingers, as though holding me so I wouldn't shatter.
"You need to eat. Ada's prepared food."
I was surprised. But he was right. The second day without food made my body feel light and hollow.
"Five minutes. I need fresh air," I admitted.
He let go of my hand, but walked behind me.
We crossed the training ground. A couple of fighters cast us quick glances.
I passed through the gate, and the air changed. Became different. Free.
I walked through grass strewn with tiny flowers, feeling the wind curl around me. The sunset reflected in the water and brushed my face with golden light.
I turned.
Blake stood in place, arms crossed, fingers in silver glow.
It was him. Always him. The silver at his fingers pulsed gently but insistently, and I could almost feel that power sliding over my skin, slipping under the mantle's fabric.
And only one question beat in my head: Why did I forget you?
A shadow of mixed feelings crossed my face.
He noticed at once and started toward me.
But behind him appeared Adel.
"High Mage, we're ready," she said coldly. Without a glance at me.
He came closer, only a couple of steps. The light at his fingers didn't fade, and the wind still wrapped around me, as if unwilling to let go.
"Avoid anything that would make me return early," his voice was level, steel. But there was something else in it, faint, almost tangible. As if the order concerned not only my actions, but whatever was happening inside me.
They left together. Without explanations. Without answers. A spark of envy scraped under my ribs. I turned to the river. Drew a deeper breath. The wind was fading, but slowly, as if resisting.
"You know the High Mage?" a light, impudent voice pierced my bubble of silence.
I turned and saw three of them.
Two dark-haired boys of eight or nine, and a red-haired girl standing behind.
Arms folded. A look that said, I didn't want to come, but they dragged me here.
"Yeah, yeah, I saw him talking to you," the second broke in, his voice a touch lower, but his eyes blazing just as much.
Both were beautiful to the point of absurdity. Even at that age their faces held something… dangerously flawless. Celestial purity with sharp edges.
And the girl, different. Hard. Ice under thin skin. She reminded me of Adel somehow.
And that, for some reason, put me on edge.
The girl snorted:
"Better ask why such a great mage even bothers with her. Strange."
"All right, stop," I raised a hand, cutting off this childish stream. "Who are you, kids?"
They exchanged looks, and the one with the mischievous smile stepped forward.
"We're students of the magic academy," he nodded over his shoulder. "There it is."
Behind him rose a building, a castle, but not like the main one. This was more elegant: light walls, arches, architecture clearly made for more than war.
"I'm Kay," then he jabbed a thumb at the boy with the deeper voice, "and that's Lian. And… eternally sceptical Lily."
Lily shoved his shoulder and stepped closer to me.
"You look like a Keeper," her gaze sliced sharp, "but why are you in a brown mantle?"
Something in her face reminded me of Adel. The same bluntness. The same cold confidence.
"Yes… I'm new here," the words slipped out on their own.
"And why aren't you in a white mantle, as Keepers should be?" she pressed on, pinning me with the question like a blade to a wall.
"Mine… got dirty," I lied on the fly. "And I've few things with me. So they lent me one."
It sounded stupid. And I knew it. They probably did too.
Justifying yourself to children, the height of absurdity.
"So who are you?" Lily didn't blink, didn't look away.
"I'm not obliged to report to children," I breathed out and stepped toward her, barely hiding the challenge.
"Women…" Lian drawled, his low, calm voice sliding over the ears.
"And isn't it time for children to go home?" I reminded both them and myself that it was getting dark. I'd better return to the building as well.
"We just wanted to know who you are," Kay lit up even more. "We've never seen you here, and you talk to the High Mage! That's amazing! He's a legend! The strongest, undefeated mage in all the kingdom of Feller! I dream of training with him just once. Seeing his power in person… It's just wow!"
He rattled on, eyes glowing with excitement. And it was pure, unfeigned admiration, not like Sunny's.
"I'm Biana, his… new personal Keeper," the words came out uncertain. I'd already forgotten the city's name and was praying silently that the troublesome girl wouldn't ask anything else.
"Wow!" the boys chorused. "He must be patrolling beyond the Outer Gates now!"
They were already miming fights and magical duels, waving their arms, but Lily neatly grabbed both by the collars and hauled them toward the academy.
"We need to go," she said dryly.
I breathed out with relief as well. Her questions were more dangerous than they seemed.
Yes, I definitely needed to learn more before going out among people.
"Bye!" the boys called as Lily all but dragged them along.
I smiled at that lively, noisy energy and waved after them.
And again the realisation that Blake was right broke into my head. How that infuriates me.
I passed through the gates, crossed the now-empty training ground. Turned. The last ray of the sun slipped below the horizon.
And then I saw him. Eiron.
He was striding toward me, quick and sure, with that soft smile that made something inside me warmer. Behind him: three enormous swords.
"Biana. You're all right!" His voice was full of relief.
And yes, I felt everything inside me answer: yes. I'm glad to see him.