UNMARKED

7: Mage Dances

Blayre's mouth went dry, and she said "The King? You told him." it came out as a croak. She had to remind herself that Rory didn't know about her Sense - as far as she knew.

    Rory laughed nervously. "You saved my life, and I wished for you to be recognized properly for it. I'm sorry," He started to reach across the table as if to touch her hands, but then retracted. "I should have mentioned it to you first."

"No, no. It's fine." Blayre smoothed her already unwrinkled trousers beneath the table. "I just - The King." She forced a smile. "I've never had the pleasure of meeting him. I've seen him before but. . ." She didn't know why she was so nervous. Attention was good she chided herself. The monarch had a great deal of the influence on selection of The Twelve.

"Don't worry," Rory flashed a comforting smile. "My uncle is a decent man."

It was true, King Barton was known overall for his peaceful reign. Blayre nodded. "When?"

"Two days time." He regarded the look of panic that must have crossed her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be present." He gave her a reassuring smile.

She felt queasy. But a simultaneous thrill rushed through her, sending her chest to bursting and her extremities to tingling. She nodded again, smoothing her hands down her thighs once more and releasing a sigh from her nose. "Okay." She conceded.

As if she had any other choice. It appeared that Rorrick Virhea was sinking his teeth into her life and not letting go just yet.

****

    Blayre's booted feet stepped over the cobbled Market District streets, passing through the equal parts sunbeam and shadow that come with a clear dawn.

    She did nothing to suppress a yawn, perking up at the spiced scent of baked apple tarts wafting from one of the shopfronts. Unable to resist purchasing one of the mouthwatering treats, she stopped abruptly, causing Ripley to stumble into her side, uttering curses under his breath. With Fletcher and Ainslee still at large on the previous assignment, Rory had decided that Blayre would benefit from having a partner of sorts along for her inspections.

    She would have rather been on her own.

    "Want one?" She jerked her chin at the slightly browned pastries lined uniformly on the countertop, while the clerk selected hers with a pair of tongs.

    Ripley shook his head silently.

    Blayre shrugged, "Suit yourself."

    A few days ago when he had approached her at the archery range, she'd felt a tug of common ground with the unmarked mage. And though initially frustrated with Rory's decision that forced her into spending time with Ripley, she had decided this was perhaps an opportunity to hold out an olive branch and work towards a common cause.  All that had quickly deteriorated when his walls had flown back up with the force of a mountain gale.

As they walked away she made a show of biting into the pastry, the filling oozing out in sticky droplets of apple-cinnamon and brown sugar. The crust was flaky and melted on her tongue.

"You sure don't know what you're missing." Blayre said, licking the stickiness from her fingers. She gave Ripley a wicked smile. He responded with one of his dour looks.

"If you're quite finished, I would like to begin the day?" He swept his arm out over the slowly filling market district.

"The day has begun already, Ripley." Blayre replied, rinsing her fingers in a spicket. She flicked the water at the ground and then dried them on her breeches.