to an abrupt halt as she spotted the dais, her face pale, her lips pinched to whiteness. She recovered well enough, but Van Gast moved a touch closer to her, his hand at the ready as though to comfort her, though he looked shaken himself.
Rillen looked up at the dais, wondering what could cause the reaction. Not his father surely. The glitter of a mage caught his eye. Their crystal casings had grown back in now, covering the pallid, wrinkled flesh underneath. They sat, unmoving, implacable and shining, a beacon to every eye. A warning to every heart.
Josie turned to Rillen, her smile a bright and brittle thing. Her hand traced along his arm. “So, Rillen, how does trading work in your city? Mr. Ibsen tells me it’s quite different to how the Gan operate, but I can’t believe half what he says is true.”
Rillen let his words flow smooth like wine while he watched Van Gast, the sheen of sweat suddenly on his top lip as he studied the mages. Something a little odd there. Most of the merchanters were casting sly looks that way, interested, some apprehensive, and that wasn’t surprising considering how few people had seen a Remorian mage before today. They were myths, shadowy figures who ran their bonded slaves like puppets. Curiosity and fear shivered through the reception, but muted because Remoria was no more, not the power it had once been. Tame mages were mages not to worry overmuch about, though treating Urgaut with caution was a safe bet. Yet for Josie and Van Gast it seemed more than that. It was recognition—and a hint of dread. Oh, I must be able to use that.
He turned the smile at that thought on Josie. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go and confer with my father and his mages.” Yes, there, a flinch in an otherwise perfect performance. A weakness to use. “Please, enjoy yourselves. I shan’t be long, I promise.”
Rillen’s father lay back on his cushions, his fingers slippery with grease from the stuffed pig on the table before him, deep in conversation with two of the city’s wealthiest traders. No sign of the other councilors though.
Urgaut ignored Rillen and he went past, up to Bissan’s side. Bissan’s gaze slid sideways, but he kept his face still so as not to disturb any crystals. The stench of him was indescribable this close, a musty, cloying smell that made Rillen want to gag.
“Are we still agreed?” Rillen asked.
The hint of a smile, a breathed, “Yes.”
“Good. Do you have a bond ready?”
A questioning look, but the mage said nothing. At a twitch of his fingers, the girl picked up a silk bag. It writhed in her hand as she held it out for Rillen. He took it warily, trying not to touch the parts that moved.
“Be careful of it. It will attach to the first unbonded person it finds.”
“Rillen!” His father, looking more than half drunk, flushed about the jowls and sweating.
Rillen slid the pouch into a pocket, his skin twitching as it writhed there. Gods alive, he wished he could bond the old fart rather than kill him.
“Well?” Urgaut said.
“Van Gast shall be yours by the end of the evening.” Possibly. But you’ll be dead, so it won’t matter.
Urgaut pursed his fleshy lips. “Make sure of it.”
“I live to serve.” Rillen turned away, glad to be free of the sight of his father, and scanned the room, looking for Van Gast.
* * *
As soon as Rillen had gone—he didn’t seem to have recognized Mr. Ibsen as Van Gast, thanks to Kyr’s mercy and his way with a disguise—Van Gast turned to Josie. She dropped the demure look, and her mouth curved into a grin. “Inside the Yelen palace. Bet you never thought you’d get in here, Van.”
A flick of her gaze and a nod sent Skrymir off somewhere, and she took Van Gast’s hand, led him into a quiet alcove shrouded in thick ferns. Nice and private. Things were starting to look up.
“It’s not getting in that worries me so much,” Van Gast said, and then forgot the rest of what he was about to say when she gave him one of those lopsided grins that squeezed his heart.
Trouble for someone, somewhere, that grin. Worries were relegated to a nebulous cloud at the back of his mind. Even the itch behind his ribs was forgotten as her hand found his, as she leaned toward him and her breath was a soft flutter on his throat.