The Queen's Mage

By the time Serali returned from the infirmary, escorted, observed, and carrying romance novels like contraband, her temper had settled into something almost useful.

Not calm.

Calm was for people who knew where all the doors led.

Prepared.

There was a difference.

Mara waited in Serali’s sitting room with tea, a folded blanket, and the careful expression of a woman who could tell the evening had gone badly by the angle at which Serali held The Sun King’s Unwilling Heart.

“Well?” Mara asked.

Serali set the books on the low table. “Lia is dangerous.”

“I am shocked.”

“No, you are not.”

“No.”

Serali removed the notebook from beneath her arm and stared at it for a moment.

You will eat, rest, speak with Allandra, and return tomorrow.

Lia had said it as if speaking with a queen were a reasonable medicinal instruction. Like gargle with salt water. Apply poultice. Discuss terrifying old magic with the woman whose desire apparently changed the temperature of rooms.

Serali hated healers.

She hated that Lia was right more.

Mara poured tea. “Would you like me to send for Her Majesty?”

Serali’s eyes snapped up. “No.”

Mara set the pot down.

The silence lengthened.

Serali looked toward the door.

The guards stood beyond it. If Serali wished to go anywhere, she had to ask. If she wished to see Allandra, someone had to approve a path, assign escort, open doors, watch corridors, pretend not to wonder.

Serali looked back at Mara. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“You do not know what this is.”

“I know you hate asking.”

That landed too neatly.

Serali folded her arms. “It is inefficient.”

“Yes.”

“And undignified.”

“Very.”

“And if I walk through half the palace at night carrying books about mate bonds, someone will talk.”

“Almost certainly.”

Mara’s voice remained gentle.

Unbearable woman.

Serali looked down at the notebook. The questions waited there in her own hand, sharp and accusing.

Can it be blocked?

Does heat remove choice?

Can wanting be used against me?

She closed the notebook.

“Ask her,” Serali said.

Mara did not move too quickly. Wise. “Do you want me to say why?”

“No.”

A pause.

Serali exhaled. “Tell her Lia answered my questions. Tell her I have more. Tell her—”

That I am frightened.

That I do not know how to be in my own skin when she can feel it.

That I want her here and resent needing anyone to know that.

“Tell her I would like to speak with her,” Serali said, each word dragged out like a splinter. “If she is available.”

Mara’s face softened.

Serali pointed at her. “Do not.”

“I did nothing.”

“You almost looked proud.”

“I will discipline my face.”

“See that you do.”

Mara curtsied and left.

The door closed.

No lock.

Serali paced anyway.

Window. Hearth. Desk. Door.

She managed four circuits before she snatched the notebook back up and reviewed her questions for the seventeenth time. By the eighth circuit, she had rearranged the books so The Sun King’s Unwilling Heart was not on top. By the twelfth, she had put it back on top because if Allandra recognized it, Serali intended to know.

Mara found Allandra in the small western workroom, attempting to read a report that had already smoldered once.

Not burned.

Smoldered.

There was a difference, though not one Allandra wished to explain to the Minister of Grain, whose report on winter stores had been dry enough before her magic scorched the corner.

She had opened the window afterward despite the cold. Winter air moved through the room now, sharp with salt and chimney smoke, and still the back of her neck felt too warm.

Allandra pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Yes?”

Mara curtsied in the doorway. “Majesty.”

The tone was careful.

Allandra lowered her hand.

Mara did careful well. Too well. There was servant-careful, court-careful, and Serali-careful. This was the third.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“That has never once meant nothing happened.”

Mara’s mouth twitched, then steadied. “Lia answered the Royal Mage’s questions.”

Allandra went still.

The report in front of her became irrelevant.

“Did she.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“And you know enough to call them questions worth reporting.”

Mara’s hands folded more tightly before her apron.

There.

Allandra felt the room rearrange itself around the fact.

Mara knew.

Not guessed from gowns and glances. Not inferred from Daravan’s posture or Lia’s expression or Allandra’s own catastrophic failures of composure. Knew, or nearly knew, because Serali had told her enough.

Allandra’s first instinct was alarm.

A queen’s instinct.

Who else knew? How much? Did the guards understand what they had escorted Serali to ask? How many careless threads now led from Serali’s rooms to a secret Allandra had not yet decided how to protect?

Then the second instinct came.

Quieter.

Worse.

Serali had told someone.

Not under pressure. Not as testimony. Not because Allandra had arranged the room and asked careful questions until truth fell out.

Serali had chosen Mara.

That mattered.

Allandra looked at the maid in the doorway, at the careful spine, the frightened loyalty, the face trying very hard to be useful without being proud of it.

“Did she ask you to keep confidence?” Allandra asked.

“Yes, Majesty.”

“And did you?”

Mara’s chin lifted by a fraction. “Yes, Majesty.”

Allandra believed her.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

That was inconvenient.

It was also a relief.

“How much do you know?”

Mara’s eyes dropped. “Enough to fetch the wrong books for the right reason.”

Despite herself, Allandra nearly laughed.

It came out as a breath instead.

“Efficiently treasonous.”

“I try, Majesty.”

Allandra gave her a look.

Mara went very still.

But not pale.

Good.

Allandra leaned back from the desk. “If this becomes gossip, it harms her first.”

“I know.”

“No. You do not.”

Mara accepted the correction. “Then I know enough to be afraid of it.”

That was better.

Allandra held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “Good.”

Only then did she allow herself to ask the question beneath the queen’s questions.

“Is Serali distressed?”

Mara considered this with far more precision than comfort required. “She is prepared.”

Allandra almost smiled despite herself.

Prepared, in Serali’s language, meant frightened, armed with information, and furious about both.

“What did she ask you to say?”

Mara’s hands folded more tightly before her apron. “That Lia answered her questions. That she has more. And that she would like to speak with you, if you are available.”

If you are available.

Allandra knew immediately that those words had cost Serali more than the rest.

She looked toward the hall.

A queen should not hurry.

A woman could.

A queen should consider appearances, escort patterns, guard rotations, the hour, the fact that Serali was still under restricted movement, the fact that every servant between here and the east wing had eyes and a mouth and some degree of imagination.

A woman could already be at the door.

Allandra took one breath and forced herself not to move too quickly. “Inform Captain Daravan I am in the east wing.”

Mara curtsied. “Yes, Majesty.”

“And Mara?”

“Yes?”

“Did she ask, or did you offer?”

Mara looked up.

The answer was in her face before she spoke. “I offered.”

Allandra nodded once. “Good.”

Because Serali would hate that too.

Because Serali needed people willing to offer anyway.

She left the report open on the desk.

It tried, valiantly, not to smoke.

By the time she reached Serali’s door, she had assembled her face into something that might pass for calm if no one looked directly at her pulse.

The guards straightened.

Mara opened the door first.

Inside, Serali stood near the hearth table with a notebook clutched in one hand and several books arranged before her as if they were evidence in a criminal proceeding. The slim violet one lay on top.

The Sun King’s Unwilling Heart.

Of course.

Allandra nearly laughed.

Then Serali looked up, and the laugh vanished.

She looked pale with irritation. Not fear. Not exactly. Her spine was too straight for fear. Her mouth was set in the sharp line she used when she had decided vulnerability was a logistical failure and should be corrected through hostility.

She had asked for Allandra.

Allandra hated how much that meant.

Mara set a second cup on the table and retreated with the discretion of a woman who had done quite enough damage for one day.

The door closed.

No lock.

Allandra did not move farther than the edge of the hearth rug. “You asked for me.”

Serali’s fingers tightened around the notebook. “I requested a conversation.”

Allandra’s mouth almost curved. “My mistake.”

“Yes.”

The room was warm.

Too warm, though the fire was low.

Allandra knew why. Her own skin had been too hot since morning. Since Serali in violet. Since the kiss. Since wanting had crossed the bond like a struck match and Allandra had discovered that restraint could have teeth and still fail to bite hard enough.

Serali’s gaze moved to her throat.

Allandra felt the flush there deepen.

The bond stirred.

Small.

Worse for being small.

Not the flare of the kiss. Not the first violent opening after the iron came off. This was pressure, subtle and insistent, as if someone had touched the inside of her ribs and waited to see whether she would answer.

Allandra’s gaze dropped to the books.

“The Sun King’s Unwilling Heart,” she said.

Serali narrowed her eyes. “You know it.”

“I know of it.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No.”

“Have you read it?”

Allandra picked up the spare cup of tea and wished, abruptly and profoundly, that it were wine. “Parts.”

Serali stared.

The heat in the room shifted.

Allandra nearly set the cup down too hard.

“Which parts?”

“The wrong ones, apparently.”

Serali laughed.

The sound crossed the room and the bond together, bright and sharp enough to catch under Allandra’s skin.

Allandra tightened her hand around the cup.

Serali’s amusement faded. “Lia says privacy wards are possible.”

“Yes.”

“You knew.”

“I asked.”

“Fewer questions, more badly?”

Allandra’s eyes narrowed. “Lia speaks too freely.”

“She called it medical candor.”

“She would.”

Serali set the notebook on the table between them. “Will you use them?”

“Yes.”

The answer came too quickly.

Serali noticed.

Of course she did.

“Because you want privacy?” she asked.

Allandra looked toward the low fire.

The silence betrayed her before she could decide whether honesty was kinder than control.

Chapter 69: Setting Boundaries

“Try plainly,” Serali said.

Allandra took a slow breath.

Plainly, then.

A horror.

“I want the bond quiet enough that it does not take from you,” Allandra said. “I am less certain I want it quiet for myself.”

The admission stood between them, bare and dangerous.

“Why?”

Because feeling you near steadies me.

Because when the bond goes quiet, I remember every room I have lost someone in.

Because I have already buried one person I loved, and some ugly part of me wants proof that this one is still breathing.

Allandra looked down at her hands.

They were queen’s hands. Ringed, trained, capable of command. They had signed death warrants. Lifted Everly from nightmares. Held Finnian’s fingers as the warmth left them. Opened Serali’s restraints. Reached for Serali’s waist and stopped half a dozen times before this morning.

“It was never like this with Finnian,” she said.

The name entered softly and made everything still.

Serali did not speak.

Good. Quick comfort might have broken something Allandra was trying, very badly, to keep whole.

“I loved him,” Allandra said. “That is not in question.”

“I did not think it was.”

“No. But I do.” The confession scraped. “Some part of me does, every time this feels different. Stronger. As if intensity is proof of worth. As if the fact that I can sense you means what I had with him was less.”

She hated saying it.

She hated more that it was true.

Finnian had been warmth without compulsion. Friendship first, then marriage, then love made out of patience, grief, politics, awkward laughter, and the impossible smallness of Everly’s hand around his finger.

Serali was not that.

Serali was a locked door, a blade under silk, winter shadow, a laugh that reached the bond before Allandra could defend herself. Serali was want with consequences. Want with teeth.

Different love.

Different danger.

Serali looked at her for a long moment.

“No,” she said.

Allandra’s eyes lifted.

“Different is not less.”

The words landed more gently than Allandra deserved.

For a while, only the fire spoke.

Then Serali opened the notebook because paper was easier than eyes. “Lia says the heat is worse for you.”

“Yes.”

“How much worse?”

Allandra’s jaw tightened.

“Do not do that,” Serali said.

“What?”

“Answer like a queen trying to tax the truth.”

Despite herself, Allandra almost smiled.

Then the smile faded.

“It is worse when you are near,” she said. “Worse when you are angry. Worse when I can feel that you want me and know I should not move closer.”

Serali’s breath caught.

Allandra forced herself on before courage failed. “It is heat, sometimes literally. My magic rises too quickly. Lamps flare. One report smoldered this afternoon.”

Serali blinked. “Smoldered?”

“It was poorly written.”

“That cannot be a legal defense.”

“No.”

“Did it hurt?”

Allandra looked away.

Serali’s fingers tightened around the notebook. “That means yes.”

“It aches.”

The answer sat between them.

Allandra felt the shape of Serali’s reaction through the bond. Concern, immediately buried under irritation at having concern. Alarm, sharpened into analysis. Want, not gone, only made complicated by care.

Care.

Allandra had no right to want that from her.

And yet.

“This is why I dislike telling you,” Allandra said. “I do not want my discomfort to become pressure.”

“It is not pressure to answer a question I asked.”

“It can become it.”

“Do you think I cannot tell the difference?”

“I think the difference becomes complicated when you were in my custody a week ago.”

That landed.

Both of them felt it.

The fire snapped softly.

Allandra lowered her voice. “When I feel protective, I have to ask whether I am protecting you or containing you. When I want to move first, I have to ask whether that is desire, habit, sovereignty, or old magic rewarding the part of me that expects rooms to obey.”

There.

The thing beneath the thing.

Not only desire.

The shape of it.

Allandra knew herself too well to pretend all wanting in her was gentle. She had been raised to command. Crowned by catastrophe. Trained to enter rooms and arrange them by will. In council, it was survival. In war, necessity. In court, armor.

In bed—

No.

Even the thought was too much.

Because wanting Serali was not only softness. It was not only kissing and trembling restraint. There was a part of Allandra that wanted to press, direct, hold, claim space and set pace and be obeyed in the old intimate language of bodies.

That part did not frighten her by itself.

It frightened her because Serali had spent a century being denied choice by people who called their desires rights.

Queen. Captor. Woman. Mate.

Allandra looked away first.

Serali closed the notebook.

“That is a very large pile of guilt.”

A laugh escaped Allandra, thin and pained. “Yes.”

“Did you build it yourself, or is there a royal mason?”

“Both.”

Serali’s mouth curved.

Then it faded.

“You are right to be careful,” she said.

Allandra’s chest tightened.

“And,” Serali continued before that could become the whole verdict, “you are wrong if you think every part of you that wants control is dangerous.”

Allandra did not move.

Serali looked down at her own hands. “I know what being controlled feels like.”

“I know.”

Serali’s eyes lifted. “Do not say that.”

Allandra stopped.

Good.

Necessary.

“You don’t,” Serali said. “Not how I do. But you know enough to be afraid of becoming it.”

“Yes.”

“That matters.”

“Not enough.”

“No,” Serali said. “Not enough by itself.”

The honesty was brutal.

Allandra absorbed it because it was true.

Serali leaned back. “Lia says knowledge is not surrender.”

Allandra gave a faint laugh. “She would.”

“I hated it immediately, so she was probably right.”

“She often is.”

“It is unbearable.”

“Yes.”

The room eased by a fraction.

Serali tapped the notebook. “She also said we should set boundaries before heat sets them badly for us.”

“Yes.”

“I think that means talking about what we want.”

Allandra’s pulse struck hard enough that she knew Serali felt it.

Serali’s face warmed. “Not doing. Talking.”

“Of course.”

“Do not say of course like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you are relieved and disappointed.”

Allandra closed her mouth.

Serali made a small, triumphant sound. “I knew it.”

Allandra looked away too late.

A smile touched Serali’s mouth despite the color in her cheeks.

“The first boundary,” Serali said, “is that if you sense something from me, you ask before acting on it.”

“Yes.”

“And I will try not to treat every accidental feeling as an invasion.”

“That seems unfairly difficult for you.”

“It is. Appreciate my generosity.”

“I do.”

The answer came out too soft.

Serali looked down.

Allandra let the quiet hold for one breath. “Second boundary?”

“No more apologizing for wanting me unless you actually do something wrong.”

Allandra went still.

Serali hated how exposed the words made her feel. Allandra could see the exact moment she regretted saying them and refused to take them back.

“It is repetitive,” Serali added.

A faint smile touched Allandra’s mouth. “I will endeavor to be less repetitive.”

“Good.”

“And you?”

Serali looked up.

“What do you need me not to do?” Allandra asked.

That question again.

A door with no lock.

Serali swallowed. “Do not decide my answer before I give it.”

Allandra’s expression changed.

“No matter what you feel from me,” Serali said. “Wanting. Fear. Anger. Anything. Ask. If I say no, it is no. If I say yes, do not look like you have committed a crime by believing me.”

Allandra’s eyes stung.

Not tears.

Not quite.

“Yes,” she said.

The bond warmed.

Allandra felt Serali notice and not flinch.

That small mercy nearly undid her.

She was beginning to understand what Lia had meant by weather. Not command. Not violation by itself. A change in pressure. A storm one could prepare for, if one stopped pretending skies were meant to obey.

“Tomorrow,” Allandra said, “Lia will teach us the privacy work.”

“Us?”

“Yes.”

“Together?”

“And separately, I assume. She has opinions.”

“She always has opinions.”

For a moment, they looked at one another.

Then Serali laughed.

The sound crossed the room the ordinary way this time. Air, not bond.

Allandra smiled, tired and warm and still too careful.

She made herself leave before the room could ask more of them than either was ready to give.

At the door, she paused. “Serali.”

“Yes?”

“If I sense something by accident before the wards are ready, I will ask.”

Serali nodded. “Good.”

“And if you need me, you may send Mara.”

Serali’s mouth twisted. “That is the humiliating part.”

“I know.”

“No, you do not.”

Allandra absorbed the correction without flinching. “No. I do not. But I know it matters.”

That was better.

Annoyingly, if Serali’s expression could be trusted.

Serali looked down at The Sun King’s Unwilling Heart. “If I start singing from bond madness, kill me.”

Allandra blinked.

Then laughed so sharply the nearest lamp flickered.

Serali smiled despite herself.

Allandra left before either of them could make the moment heavier.

The door closed behind her.

No lock.

In the corridor, the guards straightened. Mara waited a few paces away with a face disciplined into perfect innocence.

Allandra gave her a look.

Mara curtsied.

“Domestic treason,” Allandra murmured.

Mara’s mouth twitched. “Majesty?”

“Nothing.”

Allandra walked back toward the west wing with winter air moving through the halls and the bond not quiet behind her ribs.

Not quiet.

Not harmless.

But named, at least.

And for tonight, named would have to be enough.