UNMARKED

1: Curiosity Killed the Cat

This was not part of the job.

The hooded figure stood frozen in contemplation on the shadowed staircase, a civil war raging inside her chest.

She had two choices. One: follow the trail of magic her Sense had picked up, or Two: go back to her room and wait for her colleagues to return like the obedient Seeker she was supposed to be.

She played with the frayed end of her long dark braid, deflecting between options. Ainslee and Fletcher probably would not even miss her anyway, she reasoned. Their assignment did not truly begin until tomorrow, as they had only just arrived at the Three Archer's Inn. This magic was unusually powerful, and the imprint was not one she recognized. Having mostly grown up in Emares City, she liked to think she knew of all the powerful mages there were to know - they had all passed through the palace grounds at some point.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs below her. Twelve hells. Well, seemed like she was going up.

Tucking her hair back behind her shoulder, the young woman pushed herself upright from where she had been leaning against the wall and ascended the staircase, one booted foot at a time, being careful to keep her steps light and quiet. She sniffed at the magic, breathing in deeply - a wolf taking in the scent of her prey.

The couple behind her on the stairs - a giggling girl and a young man - pushed past her in the hall, paying the hooded woman no mind.

She placed her hand on the door, resisting the urge to sneeze. Strong magic always made her sneeze.

A deep rumbling of voices passed on the other side. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

This was not part of the job.

Reason started to burgeon in her mind, a newly formed moth tearing through its chrysalis. The young woman withdrew her hand, pivoting on her feet to turn back toward the stairwell.

The door flung open, with a woosh of fire-warmed air and magic, and the young woman felt someone grab her by the back of her shirt and yank her firmly into the room. Her feet stumbled, reflexes unable to catch up with the sudden change of direction, and the next thing she knew she was on her ass, the source of the magic towering over her - hostility emanating from him just as obviously as the roiling waves of magic were to her Sense.

The woman attempted to scuttle back to the door in her seated position. The tall figure stood over her, his face shrouded in the flickering shadows cast by the fire in the hearth. The weather in Mountainvale in late springtime was hardly balmy, but today it required no more than a light cloak outside, and the fire seemed a bit unnecessary.

The hood of the young woman's own cloak had fallen, exposing her own visage, long waves of hair so dark brown they appeared to be black escaping in a mass around a mostly delicate-featured face. She pressed her back up against the wall as the mage in question loomed over her, magic rippling off of him in an angry static..

He couldn't do anything to her with magic, she reasoned. Unrelated to her ability to sense magic, was her resistance to magic of all kinds. She might feel small effects of the magic, but it would take a very long time to do enough to harm her - and she had not met a mage with the time, nor the magical reserves to whittle her down.

Who was this mage? And curse her for wanting to know. She disliked most feline creatures, but as the saying went - curiosity killed the cat. This was what she deserved for straying from the strict set of orders laid upon her by her commander.

"Who are you?" The voice was a strong baritone, it reminded her of a deep storm wind. Apparently her captor was going to learn her identity before she learned his. She ran through the options in her mind, and decided on honesty. She tried to be as honest as possible in most aspects of her life, to make up for the gigantic lie she was living.