His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 30: The Council of Six

The silver plate of golden sweetcorn simmers. It's already afternoon, and I've yet to eat. While the corn may smell sweet, it turns into a bitter mush in my mouth. I'd rather be eating with Trevus, but there's no way he'd ever share a meal with me again.

"You don't like it?" Ametha asks. Her voice is soft and tender, as if speaking too loudly may cause me to shatter.

The servant reaches for my silver plate. "Let me fix our lady something else," he says.

"It's fine," I say. I'm seated at the head of a polished wooden table, housed in a room-sized red and gold tent. Ametha sits to my left, and a servant stands to my right. A few weeks ago, I'd have been elated to have been treated like a noble lady. Now, it all feels empty.

"Jade, what's the matter?" Ametha reaches out to touch my shoulder, but she stops at my sharp look. The rahlite fire is still burning. I'm connected to her, to the servant and to the two soldiers at the door, whether I want to be or not.

After my encounter with Reger today, the title of Mephian no longer earns my trust. Who knows how Ametha will react learning about my feelings towards a Versillian captain. I've shared my name and nothing more. For once in my life, I'm not at a disadvantage. I don't have to answer her. I stand to leave before that changes.

Ametha stands too. "Wait. You must stay."

I look her up and down. She's in the way, and there are two more soldiers guarding the entrance. Her eyes share the same black shadow mine do.

"Are you going to stop me?" I ask.

Ametha steps aside. "The Six will not stand in the way of a fellow mage."

I walk past her.

"We may not be able to help with your grief, but across the entire world, this is the only place you'll ever belong."

I stop short of the tent entrance.

"There are only seven mages across Mephia," she says. "You are one, I am one, and the other five are all within my circle."

I let go of the tent curtain. How would my life have turned out if they'd found me before the Versillians? Perhaps not every military hierarchy is as hostile as I've become accustomed to.

"When the fire dies, will my connection return to the way it was before?" I ask.

"It should."

Then I'll be vulnerable again. "Send the guards away."

"They're here for our protection," she says.

"I'd feel safer without them."

Refusing will only end in my departure. Ametha comes to the same conclusion. She raises her voice – "Daniel, David, find a new post!"

"Right away, Grand Mage," they answer and walk off.

"Have a seat." Ametha gestures to my chair.

I reach for it, but a brief pain in my shoulder makes me wince.

"My magic offers relief from pain of the body – if you'd allow it."

I take my seat. "I'm fine." I don't trust her enough to embrace her connection. "Don't your soldiers need your magic?"

"They receive it as we speak. The hospital tent is to your left."

She's been using her connection throughout our conversation. With her decades of trained practice, I should be mindful of the difference between our capabilities.

The male sorcerer steps into the tent. His breathing is heavy, sweat cresting his forehead. His eyes find my frame.

"Is it finished?" Ametha asks him.