To Catch A Sorcerer

Sorena spun away and stuffed her knuckles in her mouth. Her shoulders shook.

It took Gray a beat to realise what was happening.

She was trying very hard not to laugh.

Gray breathed in slowly to push down the heat that threatened to bubble up and make his face unbearably redder.

She’d been messing with him.

‘You are five,’ said Gray.

Slowly, Sorena turned back around.

Gray couldn’t make himself look at her. ‘I have a little sister,’ he said. He hesitated. Why the heck was he still talking? ‘Not a sister, but she’s like a sister. She’s ten. She - she -‘

’She’d kill you for telling any kind of story involving her wind, I’m sure,’ said Sorena.

Gray clapped a hand over his face. ‘Fair.’

Carefully, Gray lowered his hand. Sorena sat at the table with one leg curled underneath her, her face dipped to hide her expression.

When she continued to maintain a long silence, Gray said, ‘Will you tell me what happened to you and Jessica?’

She leant her chin in her hand.

‘Mages,’ said Sorena, like Gray wasn’t still bright red in the face, ‘are the heart of our military power. Without them, we’re … vulnerable. Especially somewhere like here. Jessica and I were caught in the middle of some northerners realising our mages had deserted. Let your imagination fill in the rest.’

‘Where were you?’ said Gray.

‘Reviness.’

‘Not Dierne?’ said Gray, frowning.

Sorena gave him a cool glance. ‘You don’t know much about fahrening, do you?’

Gray was not about to admit the only thing he knew about fahrening was the mage stood inside a chalk circle, chanted some words, and then disappeared in a rush of noise and energy.

‘And you came here?’ he said.

‘Well, I wasn’t going to take us to the palace. Father’s at the palace. He’s – very annoyed with me right now.’

Gray waited for her to elaborate, but she sat there like the silence wasn’t a bother, like she’d happily let Gray squirm in the quiet.

‘I meant,’ said Gray, ‘why wouldn’t you go up to Sirentown, or - or -’

Sorena folded her arms, a gleeful smile spreading slowly across her face. ‘You know absolutely nothing about fahrening.’

‘I,’ said Gray, ‘I know …’

‘Gods,’ said Sorena. ‘You know nothing about fahrening.’ She paused, her gleeful smile turning into something entirely more sly. ‘Or even magic in general, I bet.’

When Gray didn’t contradict her, she let out a disbelieving breath.

‘Holy Clochaint,’ said Sorena. ‘How embarrassing.’

‘It’s,’ said Gray, ‘not embarrassing. In the north, we ...’

‘It’s embarrassing,’ said Sorena. ‘Even I’m embarrassed for you, and I hate you.’

Gray stood poised in the following quiet, expectantly waiting.

When Sorena offered no further explanation, Gray said, ‘You’re not going to explain fahren-‘

‘Was that part of the deal?’

Gray stood, stunned. ‘No.’

She was so damn smug, and it took everything within Gray not to let irritation spill onto his face.

Gray lowered his gaze to the map spread on the table. He pushed past his irritation to ask the next question burning within him, and not certain at all if Sorena would answer. ‘Why would the mages leave?’

Sorena traced the miner’s path on the map, her fingernails catching the light. ‘Why would they come here, is what I want to know.’

Gray watched her. He stared at the curving lines of her lashes, cheek and lips, the graceful line of her arm. He wrenched his gaze away and started rolling up the map. Clearly, he was going to get nothing else out of her.

Sorena slammed her hand down on the map. Gray stopped.

‘The plants?’ she said.

Gray glanced back at the door. If Killian found them now, Sorena would get a slap on the wrist, and Gray would probably get the beating of a lifetime.

’Star mushroom grows here, here, and here,’ he rushed out, pointing at the map. ‘Do you know-’

‘I know how to handle star mushrooms, thank you.’

‘Pity,’ said Gray.

Sorena shot him a cold glance.

’Tendril vines here, envy herbs here, and giant spiders here,’ said Gray. ‘And avoid this pool.’

‘Why?’

Gray pressed his lips together. ‘It steals souls, they say.’

‘What about this trail? It goes to Sirentown.’

Gray winced. ‘Don’t use that trail. Fey use that trail. And they don’t like people.’

‘Holy Clochaint,’ said Sorena.

‘Yeah, you’re not in the south anymore. You go into the forest, you keep your wits about you.’

Sorena rolled up the map. ‘I’d say pleasure doing business with you, but I hate you and wish you a slow and painful death, so …’

She was standing very close. Gray breathed slow. Her soap.

Lavender.

Involuntarily, Gray felt a tug in his body. A familiar one. The kind he got when he was close to Rosie.

His soul leaving his body, no forest pool required.

Gray clenched his teeth. Shit.

It’s nothing, he told himself firmly. A misfiring in your brain, because she looks like Rosie. You’re messed up because of everything that’s happening. You don’t like her, the opposite, she’s awful -

The energy between them had shifted.

And Sorena had felt it, Gray realised in alarm.

She was holding herself stiffly. Her muscles were taut.

Gray could see the slap coming a mile away.

Her hand was swinging back, it was flying in the air, wind from the force of it was lifting the hair off his face …

Her open palm collided with his cheek.

Gray didn’t even try to dodge. His cheek burned. He was flushed, toe to head, mortified at himself and that she’d sensed it so quickly.

The second slap was unexpected.

Slap.

Bang.

The door crashed open at the same time Sorena slapped Gray for the third time.

Killian stood on the threshold. His dark gaze darted from Sorena to Gray, back to Sorena, and then down to the map rolled up in her hand. Then, very slowly, his gaze travelled back to Gray.

Gray ducked his head, painfully aware of how red he was. His cheek burned. Sorena stood close to him, her breath strained.

With startling swiftness, Killian stalked over and jabbed Gray hard in the chest. Gray stumbled back.

Killian’s face was in his. ‘Bedroll.’

Gray hobbled to the bedroll, keen to put as much distance between himself and Sorena as possible.

Gray heard Killian talking to Sorena, his voice distorted as though they were underwater.

Then, he was in front of Gray. He was speaking.

Gray forced himself to focus.

‘What did you say to her?’ said Killian. ’She won’t tell me.’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ said Gray.

‘It was his vibe,’ said Sorena stiffly.

Killian’s dark gaze narrowed. ‘You slapped the shit out of him,’ he said to Sorena, ‘because of a vibe?’

‘Yes.’

Killian’s eyes were narrowed slits. He looked like he was about to squash Gray under his thumb like a bug. ‘Did you touch her?’ He turned to Sorena. ‘Did he?’

She pulled a disgusted face. ‘Is he dead?’

‘No,’ said Killian, pursing his lips.

‘No,’ said Gray. ‘It won’t happen ever again, OK?’ He shot a glance at Sorena. ’It was a brain fart.’

Sorena made a sound like an angry cat.

’She’s very beautiful, hm?’ Killian’s quiet words had a bite to them.

‘She,’ said Gray. ‘She has the personality of a snake.’

Killian raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that an answer?’

Gray clenched his jaw.

‘I hate you,’ said Sorena.

‘Yeah,’ said Gray. ‘I know.’

‘Hate. You.’

‘I’m aware,’ snapped Gray.

Killian rolled his dark gaze back to Sorena. ‘This genuinely is because of a vibe?’

‘Yes,’ said Sorena, widening her stance and folding her arms.

‘Does vibe mean something I don’t know? Kids’ slang?’

Sorena frowned minutely. ‘Vibe means vibe.’

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Fucking mage shit … how you fuckers haven’t gone extinct yet is beyond me.’ He jabbed Gray again in the chest. ‘Keep your vibes in your pants, got it?’

‘Yes,’ said Gray, fighting down his flush. ‘It was - temporary insanity.’

Killian sharply waved a hand as though wafting away thick smoke. ‘Your hormones are off the charts, kid. Do your breathing.’

‘Gods, Killian.’ Gray pressed his hands against his temples, horrified.

‘Gross,’ said Sorena.

‘I don’t like her,’ hissed Gray through gritted teeth, glaring hard at Killian. Gray was blushing so hot, any moment he would spontaneously combust. ‘You – she – has nothing to worry about. Even if I did, that’s not how – we don’t – I …’

Gray trailed off because, really, he was digging himself a bigger hole at this point and he needed to stop.

‘How would your kitchen girlfriend feel about this, hm?’ said Killian.

Gray levelled Killian with a stare.

‘Betrayal,’ said Killian. ‘Spreading your vibes around like a dog.’

‘OK,’ said Gray.

Killian looked like he was struggling hard to keep himself from saying more. He stood over Gray, the toes of his boots on the bedroll, his hand on the handle of his narrow sword.

Sorena smirked and settled herself at the table, and began picking her food again.

Killian bent so his face was close to Gray’s, his voice low. ‘I’m serious. Whatever the fuck a vibe is, if she doesn’t like it, don’t do it. Understood?’

It was like a shutter had rolled down over Killian’s bearing. Like a mask had snapped back into place. Back was the serious man with the dark gaze who’d slammed his best soldier down in the prison like it was just another Tuesday.

Gray made himself stay very still. ‘Yes, sir.’

-

It was decided, shortly after, that Sorena would be moved out.

Well, Jessica had barged into the room, and after a hot and angry conversation with Killian with lots of glares shot Gray’s way, had demanded Killian make Codder give up his private room so that Sorena and Jessica could board there.

Away from Gray.

In came a stream of Hall workers on night shift, and a line of Jessica’s women. They packed up the beautiful belongings - the clothes, the books, the flowers, and the playing board on the fur rug.

Killian stood over Gray, the toes of his boots on the bedroll, his hand on the handle of his narrow sword. ‘Stay,’ he said.

When the last item had been carried out of the room, Killian walked Sorena out, and the door clicked closed behind them.

Gray – save for Frostvine asleep on the bed – was completely alone.

He picked up an item dropped on the carpet.

A hairpin.

-

Picking the lock of Killian’s weapons chest with a hairpin was an exercise in patience.

And damn persistence.

Gray drew in a long breath, pushing down the urge to fling the hairpin across the room, and after a quick glance at Frostvine – asleep, thank the gods – and the door – still bolted shut – he continued to pick the lock.

His palms were sweating.

Killian was so light-footed that there’d be little to no warning if he was approaching the door.

But, Gray had seen glimpses of what Killian kept inside the weapons chest. There were metals in there Gray could use to create something that might help him draw the soldiers away from Krydon.

What exactly he could create, Gray didn’t know.

Heck, he didn’t know if he was wasting his time altogether. Maybe Gray wouldn’t be able to cobble together any kind of alchemic creation, let alone one strong enough to bait the king’s men into a chase.

But he was going to damn well try.

Gray adjusted his weight on his knees, digging them deeper into the carpet, and his neck aching as he craned to see into the small space of the lock.

That’s when he felt it.

There was no sound.

But the air changed.

It was a subtle cloaking of movement, like a shark gliding through dark ocean waters.

Killian.

He was coming.

The hairpin slipped from Gray’s slick fingertips.

He swept away the tiny filings of iron from picking at the lock, hopped and then flung himself onto the bedroll just in time for Killian to unbolt the door.