looked across the fire at Prince Harkeld. He was unrecognizable as the prince who’d walked into King Esger’s throne room. He looked like the poorest of commoners, his clothes ripped and stained, his hair hacked short, his face dark with stubble and grime.
It wasn’t just his appearance that was different, his manner was different, too. He’d walked into the throne room with his head held high, self-assured, confident, alert. A man used to being noticed, to being obeyed.
Innis studied him, frowning as she tried to identify what was different about Prince Harkeld. It wasn’t that he was cowed or that the confidence was gone, it was more as if....
As if he’d closed himself off. He holds himself apart from us.
“More stew anyone?” Cora asked.
The prince glanced at her. His face momentarily hardened.
“Please,” Petrus said, holding out his wooden bowl. “By the All-Mother, I’m starving!”
Innis looked down at her own stew. She stirred it with her spoon. To him we’re filthy, foul, loathsome. She grimaced, remembering the prince’s words. Humans mating with animals. Women giving birth to kittens.
How could he think such things were true?
Because he knows nothing about who we really are.
Innis lifted her head. “Dareus? Justen wondered what a Sentinel mage is. I said you’d be able to explain it best.” She glanced at Petrus. “Didn’t I?”
Petrus paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. He stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Yes.”
“A Sentinel mage?” Dareus’s eyebrows quirked slightly as he looked at her, then he put down his bowl and turned his attention to Petrus. “Sentinel mages make sure that the rules governing the use of magic are upheld.”
Petrus glanced at her. “Er...rules?”
Innis gave him a tiny nod.
“There are certain dangers inherent in the use of magic. Take shapeshifting, for example. A mage who stays shifted for too long can identify too strongly with a body that’s not human, become stuck there. It’s a form of madness.”
Petrus pulled a face. “Ach, that doesn’t sound good.”
“No. The rules are to prevent it happening.” Dareus counted them off on his fingers. “No eating while in animal form. No sleeping. No copulation.”
Innis glanced at the prince. He gave no sign that he was listening. He ate, not lifting his gaze from his bowl. Listen, she told him silently. Hear the truth about us.
“There are other rules,” Dareus continued. “For example, shapeshifters are forbidden to make partial shifts—to become part one thing and part another—and they’re absolutely forbidden to take the form of another human.”
“Why?” Petrus asked.
“In the past there’ve been shapeshifters who abused their power. You’ve heard the tale of Ysaline?”
“The most beautiful woman in the world. Kings fought over her, nations fell...” Petrus paused. “She was a shapeshifter?”
Gerit spat into the fire. “Stupid bitch wanted to be a queen.”
“Any power can corrupt,” Dareus said. “Magic is no exception. It’s our task as Sentinels to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
“And if it does?”
“We stop it.” Dareus reached for his mug. “Magic is a responsibility. It’s not something that makes you better than other people. In the past, there have been mages who failed to recognize that. These days, there are rules. There’s us.”
Innis glanced at the prince. Had he thought himself better than a commoner because of his royal blood? Had he seen his status in terms of power or responsibility?
The prince looked up, as if he’d heard her silent question. His expression was closed, stony.
“If a mage abuses his power, we hunt him down and strip him of his magic. It’s one of the tasks we’re charged with. For that reason, only the most powerful mages may become Sentinels. Those who’re extraordinarily adept in one of the disciplines.”
“Disciplines?” Petrus asked.
“Shapeshifting. Fire magic. Healing. They’re the most common.”
Innis watched the prince. He ate his stew, giving no indication that he was listening.
“Most fire mages can do no more than this—” Dareus snapped his fingers. A flame flared at his fingertips for a second and then snuffed out. “Light a candle, start a cooking fire.”
The prince glanced at Dareus’s hand, and away.
“A strong mage can set fire to an object and control the spread of the flames,” Dareus said. “As long as he’s touching whatever he’s set fire to.”
Petrus nodded.
“But only the strongest mages—those able to throw fire and still control it—are capable of being Sentinels.”
Petrus chewed and swallowed. “And shapeshifters? What about them?”
“Shapeshifters...” Dareus reached for his mug. “A lot of shapeshifters aren’t capable of much. They can take one shape, perhaps hold it for half an hour.