The Magi were nothing but legends . . . until she became one.
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Pria is a fighter-in-training for the resistance against the empire. After years of being held back by injuries and illness, Pria finally has her chance to shine as the skilled Mo...
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THE DANK CORNERS OF THE DINING HALL burned with candlelight, tossing wavering contours of radiance across the limestone walls. Some of the townsfolk had gathered to embellish the enclosure with welcoming gonfalons of Gaerik colors: ashen blue and snowy white.
Overwhelmed by news of the elder's return, the kitchen had been bustling with nerves since midafternoon. It appeared they survived the surprise with assisted relief from our visitors' servants. Whispers of the Elder Mavren's guests rose like weeds throughout the town of Gaeris—woven through the fingers of the elderly as much as they spilled from the lips of ignorant children. The only visitor anyone had truly caught sight of was the red-cloaked bald man, and his brief unearthing only posed more queries.
After cleansing our hands in the basins at the door, Jayla and I entered the hall and passed through buffets with silverware in hand. We saw trays of yiirshta, faerwiks, saldark, and other small mammals found within the Caldenor region, but there were also two large platters of yorgahn and prarck, great beasts indigenous to the arboreal province of Ahnrii. They must have been the Elder Mavren's gracious contributions to tonight's unexpected feast.
It had been five strings since the last occasion that necessitated our attendance in ceremonial robes. We were all gifted the opportunity to braid only the crown of our hair, letting the underside flow freely, as did the elder per diem. And yet, I did not feel as though I were at my best. The plaited rope around my waist was fraying, and a stain now marred my neckline—compliments to the new growth in my spine, Jayla Naiyal. She scooped into the dish of yorgahn, its flesh easily dripping from bone, and dropped it onto her silver plate so carelessly—brown sauce splattered in complete disarray.
Once I had gathered my own food of choice—a hefty serving of yiirshta bathed in egg yolk, a salted slice of prarck, a bread roll, and a large spoonful of sweetened greens—I ambled toward my usual table. The Esquoian hassled behind me.
"Jayla, I will not repeat myself, go sit with your peers."
