First Apprentice

Chapter 11 Part 1

Through hooded eyes, I watched Endellion pace around the blue room like a caged tiger. With windows stretching from floor to ceiling and a balcony half as large as the room, the blue room was once my favorite. When I turned thirteen, Grandfather gently suggested I move out of the nursery and pick my own room. Everyone knew which one I'd pick. Then Jon happened.

One moment this stranger attacked me. No introductions. He pinned me against Martha's drawing room wall, held a knife to my throat, and demanded I submit. The next blood congealed on my hands as I knelt before the Ancient Gate, a new master's stripe throbbing on my left wrist.

Afterward, my haven seemed as insecure as the old cigar box I once used to store my childhood treasures. I bunked with Endellion for a few weeks while I built another secret place – one no one could access without my consent. I hadn't slept in this room since.

Now, the blue room felt more like a prison. Once comforting walls closed in on me. I swore if I looked in the shadows, I'd see the walls inching nearer with every tick of the mantle clock. Endellion's pacing didn't help.

Golden eyes flashing, she turned on her heel and flung a fire ball into the fireplace. It hissed then sputtered out, leaving a trail of angry sparks. Her tenth fireball of the day, not counting the lava she threw at Terry. I silently thanked the gods I still had one arm bound in a sling or those fireballs would be aimed at me.

Chest heaving, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Why, Alannah? Don't tell me you didn't have a choice. There is always a choice. Why didn't you summon my gate or even the Central Keystone? What possessed you to make a life altering decision without consulting anyone?"

"I spoke with Selim, analyzed the situation, and made the best of a bad lot," I said, feigning a calm I didn't feel. Why did she insist I return to the manor while Uncle Manfred fetched a healer? I'd feel safer out in the woods or sequestered in my study, not trapped inside with Terry two doors away.

"Don't play games with me, Alannah. You're not the only one Selim speaks to. You asked him a few highly specific questions then shut him out. It's Mitchel, isn't it? Why are you protecting that manipulative old fool?"

"Because he protected me when no one else would."

"He is the reason you lived with Martha. He gave you to that harridan. We both know how that plan worked out. She set Jon, a Dracon Lord, on you. Why would this plan be any better?"

I closed my eyes and silently counted backwards from ten, forcing my magic back inside its cage before it exploded. Another uncontrolled outburst wasn't in my best interests, especially not in front of Endellion.

My makeshift family was best described as irreparably broken. Grandfather said it happened when the Dracon ordered Endellion to execute Uncle Manfred's eight-year-old cousin Alexis. She followed orders. Uncle Manfred hated her ever since. They treated each other with frigid civility when I was around. Otherwise, they'd both expended considerable effort over the last four thousand years maintaining their idiotic feud. It showed.

Endellion and Grandfather didn't get along either. Most days, they were like two whores fighting over a street corner. Territorial, possessive, and utterly unreasonable where I was concerned. Between their instincts, strong-willed personalities, and conflicting goals for my future – Endellion envisioned me bringing the Dracon to heel, not becoming another mediocre Border Guard sealer – they were at best temporary political allies, nothing more. Their arguments were loud and frequent, but always verbal. To my knowledge, they hadn't come to blows. Yet. If Grandfather kept playing games without Endellion's knowledge, they would. Guaranteed.

Grandfather would die. The Seven would seal Endellion away permanently as punishment for killing one of their own. Thus, I forced myself back into my usual role: peace-keeper.

"Legally speaking, Grandfather is only my father's trustee. Martha possessed papers signed by the king, stating she was my father's wife. Never mind that my father was on his death bed when the supposed marriage took place or she was in another city or the law requires consummation. It was impossible for my father to consummate their marriage when he was drowning in his own blood. My father stupidly used the word 'wife' in his will rather than writing out my mother's name. The misbegotten sow and our beloved monarch merely took advantage of the situation my father created.

"I've seen her account books, Endellion. Both the real ones and the fakes she submits to Grandfather. Over nineteen heads a year, one sixth of the Vinettan estate's total income, a fortune by any standard. The king gets nine; she gets ten as long as she holds my guardianship. The only reason she let me move here is because Grandfather's paying her another eight. This isn't your time," I said softly. "Bonds and law are no longer the same thing. At least, not on Vinetta."

"Then he should have taken you and run."

"Where? The clans? So they could brainwash me or deliver me to the Dracon wrapped in a funeral shroud? As for the Border Guard, Terry clings to the idea of peace so tightly he can't even feel when the Dracon are attacking a gate. Whose to say he wouldn't have handed me over to preserve his peace? An apprenticeship was the only way. Not that it matters because I failed!"

She froze. A wrinkle formed between her eyes as Endellion cocked her head and studied me.

Several minutes passed. I met her gaze head on, refusing to flinch or squirm. Even though I couldn't defend myself easily, I would not back down. Not from her, Terry, or Grandfather. Never again.