magicians. I follow his gaze and study the men before me for the first time. They wear the same uniform as Grayson, and they hold themselves in a way that gives the impression of great power. The one on my left is the eldest of the four, his sandy hair and neatly trimmed beard speckled with grey. He has a kind face, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.
I knew Grayson was the youngest high mage to have ever been chosen, but one of the magicians, who’s standing back and watching me with a confused expression, can’t be that much older than him. I would guess he’s in his mid to late thirties. His hair is slightly darker than the others, a dirty blond bordering on brown, and he has hazel eyes that track every move I make. I realise, as I meet his gaze, that he’s the one whose magic hit me.
I don’t pay much attention to the last magician, I’m too busy watching the confused mage with hazel eyes and making sure I position myself between them and Vaeril. I won’t let them attack him again. The older gentleman sighs and looks at his fellow mages.
“The girl is right, there has been too much death today.” At his agreement, I feel my body starting to relax as I sag in relief. He’s the well-spoken man I heard when I was hit. Glancing back at Grayson, I see his contemplative expression before he sighs and gestures for me to walk towards the exit.
“But—” Before I can finish my protest, a voice interrupts me.
“Clarissa.” It’s the first time Vaeril has ever called me by my name, and I can’t stop the shiver that runs down my spine. I look over my shoulder, but his expression doesn’t give anything away, yet I know what he’s asking.
Are we still escaping? Will you come back for me?
I know our only chance of making it through this alive is to escape, but now that Grayson is back, this could change things…
Meeting his gaze, I nod my head once, the movement so minute that most wouldn’t see it, but with his superior eyesight, I know he does. Turning in a movement too fast for the eye to see, he stalks back over to the forge, picks up his hammer, and returns to his work. A hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch away before realising it’s Grayson. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice, his attention still on Vaeril.
“I’ll explain everything when we get back to my rooms. I just want to get out of this damned place,” Grayson mutters, running a hand through his hair.
With one last glance at Vaeril, I turn and slowly follow the magicians out of the underground chamber.
The magicians cast some sort of spell over me, which cloaks me from view as we hurry to Grayson’s rooms. However, they needn’t have worried as the castle was deserted and eerily quiet. Thankfully, we were able to avoid the Queen’s Courtyard and the main square where everyone had been slaughtered just hours ago. I’m not sure how I would have coped if I had to look at their fallen bodies again. Anger still simmers in my gut, and I’m not sure how I would react if I saw anyone who was involved in the murder of all those slaves.
Although haste is key, my body is so weak, every limb aches, making moving a painful process. We get to the hall leading to Grayson’s living quarters before my legs give way. Slumping against the wall, I look up at Grayson and shake my head, holding up my hand as I pant for breath. Whatever that magic did to me, it’s affecting me even worse now. I can hear the four of them talking in low, hushed voices before blue robes flash in front of my vision. Raising my tired head, I see Grayson crouching in front of me, his face uncharacteristically stern.
“Sorry, Clarissa, but we need to get somewhere safe,” he says, and I’m about to ask what he’s sorry for when he scoops one arm under my legs and the other behind my back, picking me up. I let out a gasp as he holds me close, gently, as if I’m some delicate package. He’s never held me this way before, but that strange pull between us practically hums with pleasure at our proximity. I try to ignore it as he hurries along the corridors, but I can’t help wondering if