The enchanting workshops were an absolute nightmare for Henriette, and she avoided going anywhere near them unless she absolutely had to - such as for class. In fact, she’d been praised by Professor Norris on multiple occasions for her attention to detail, when all she really wanted was to test out of enchanting completely, so that she wouldn’t ever have to go there again.

  The clang of hammer on anvil, the stink of acid etching metal, and the foul scent of leather being tanned all combined into a sort of shifting cloud of sensations, each one magnified by Bheuv. Perhaps without the word of power, they might have blended together into something that could be ignored: but no, every individual sensation was distinct, sharp and fresh.

  Once she saw the two royal guards, in their blue jack of plate blazoned with a white mountain, and their enchanted halberds, Ettie simply planted herself outside the doorway and waited. Where royal guards went, her aunt was certain to be found. Oh, they might have been escorting Henriette’s younger cousin, but there was no reason for a little girl to be down in the workshops without her mother.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at Guild Law and History?” One of Ettie’s friends called, as she hurried past. Ronja had gorgeous purple hair, of an utterly inhuman shade that clearly marked her as one of the Eld, but today her usual graceful stride was thrown off by bandages on her leg and a wooden crutch under her armpit.

  “I need to talk to my aunt,” Henriette said, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right. “I’ll get there once I’m finished.”

  Ronja paused, the foot of her crutch bearing most of her weight, and looked over the two guards. If either had an opinion on the conversation happening right in front of them, they didn’t show it: in fact, neither of them seemed to do so much as blink. Rather, their eyes were constantly in motion, roaming across the passing students like wolves picking the weakest link out of a herd. Henriette had spent her entire life under the protection of Whitehill guards, but these were entirely different beasts.

  “For your sake, I hope she’s in a more tender mood than she was yesterday, then,” Ronja declared. With a wince, she pushed off with her crutch and continued on her way. Ettie watched until the other woman was lost in the crowd of students, all rushing through campus on their way to one class or another.

  Though she’d been waiting for it, Henriette was still nearly caught by surprise when her aunt stepped out of the enchanting workshop into the sunlight just a moment later. Seeing Aunt Livara was like that: you heard so many stories about all the absolutely ridiculous things the woman had done, that every time you actually saw her it was a shock just how tiny she was. Henriette found it utterly bizarre to exist in a world where she could look down on the top of the queen’s head, and see precisely how her braids had been worked around the crown she wore.

  Before she could lose the chance, Ettie stepped forward. If she were anyone but family, she might have feared the guards reacting to the motion, but they all knew her - even if she couldn’t always keep track of their names.

  “Can I have a moment, Aunt Liv?”

  The queen narrowed her eyes. “We’re in public, Henriette,” she responded, in a voice that might as well have been chipped from a glacier north of Kelthelis. “And you aren’t six any longer. On this campus, in particular, you’re a student, and I’m one of your teachers.”

  Ettie took a deep breath and tried again. “May I have a moment, Archmagus?”

  Aunt Livara turned to the left and set off, taking fast steps as if to make up for how short her legs were. “If it’s about your studies, I believe I have office hours -”

  “- which you never keep,” Ettie pointed out, hurrying to fall into step at the older woman’s side.

  “-because I am very busy, particularly this morning,” her aunt continued, without slowing her steps. The impact of boots on cobbles from behind them signalled that the two guards had fallen in. “I’ve already had to push off one appointment on your uncle just to get down here and see Professor Norris, and I’m due for tea at the Merchants Guild hall presently.”

  “Then let me walk with you!” Ettie begged. “We can talk on the way.”

  The queen sighed. “Fine, go ahead and speak. But I’m not excusing you from whichever course you’re missing right now.”

  “I was at the Culler’s Rest the other evening,” Ettie began.

  “Not getting into any trouble, I hope,” her aunt grumbled. “I’m responsible to your parents for you while you’re here taking classes.”

  Given the stories Henriette had heard about her own parents in their youth, the irony of that statement wasn’t lost on her. Still, she was here for a purpose, and not about to let herself be distracted or thrown off track. “You know I have very good hearing,” she continued.

  “I do.” Her aunt threw a glance at her. “Remarkably good, since you imprinted Bheuv. That word is a natural fit for you, though I understand it hasn’t always been easy.”

  “Well, this time I heard something I thought you needed to know about,” Ettie said, pushing forward. “There was a group of men sitting at a table drinking and complaining. I thought it was all pretty standard stuff at first - griping about how you didn’t wed a human, anti-inquisitor sentiment, all of that. Obnoxious, but harmless.”

  Her aunt shrugged. “One thing that’s guaranteed in life, Ettie, is that you can’t make everyone happy.”

  Ettie lowered her voice. “They were happy enough. Happy that, according to one of them, you’d be dead soon.”

  She let her own feet carry her forward several steps before realizing that Aunt Livara had stopped in her tracks, the guards at her heels looking just a bit more dangerous all of a sudden. Henriette caught a glimpse of the older woman’s hand hovering near the hilt of her wand, where it hung in a leather sheath at her right hip.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Queen Livara said. “This is a conversation better held in private. You’re coming along with me, and I’ll be certain none of your professors give you any problems over it. Say nothing more until we get to the carriage.”

  The carriage, as it turned out, was waiting for them on School Street, just outside the campus itself, with two more guards, a coachman, and the Antrian war-machine, Ghveris, who watched them approach as if he’d somehow been tracking their location the entire way. Henriette, who’d seen the ancient warrior shadowing her aunt ever since she’d been a little girl, had been a bit surprised when she watched the queen walk into a lecture hall without him for the first time. When she’d asked, later, why Ghveris so rarely followed Aunt Livara onto the campus, the older woman had explained that none of the other professors were escorted by their own personal walking battlement, complete with siege engines, and that it could be something of a distraction.

  “I’m putting shields up once we’re inside,” Aunt Livara told the war-machine.

  “Trouble?” Ghveris rumbled, while one of the waiting royal guards opened the carriage door.

  “Possibly. Ettie overheard something.”

  Those burning blue eyes swung around and locked onto Henriette’s, and there was a series of clanking, grinding sounds from inside the Antrian’s armor, followed by a release of steam. “Understood. No one will approach the carriage.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “In with you,” Aunt Livara said, putting one hand on Henriette’s back and steering her up onto the carriage footplate.

  Ettie settled herself into the bench that faced forward - she hated facing backward while a carriage was moving - and waited while her aunt pulled the door shut and then cast a spell. When you were around Aunt Liv, you sometimes forgot that spells were supposed to be cast using words. Panes of blue, luminous mana, veined with gold, fell into place along the windows, floor and ceiling. Henriette knew, from personal experience, that any one of them could turn aside a blast of fire or lightning, or a volley of crossbow bolts.

  “Now,” Livara said, and from the tone of her voice Ettie could tell she was speaking not to her aunt, but to the queen of the alliance. “Tell me from the beginning.” With a lurch, the carriage set off, the wheels rattling against the cobblestones of the street.

  Ettie took a deep breath. “I’d just come off shift at the waystone,” she explained, “and it was so hot that I went down to the river to cool off. I met Shooting Star there - he’s one of the Red Shields at the college. I’m not sure you’ll have met him, since they can’t learn spells -”

  Her aunt leaned back in her seat and grinned. “I keep careful track of all Wren’s people,” she said. “Especially after what we went through pulling their dreamers out of Godsgrave. I know the boy, yes. Does he need to meet your parents?”

  Ettie couldn’t help but sputter for a moment before she could form words. “No, we’re just friends.”

  “There’s no shame in courting at college,” her aunt pointed out. “Your parents did, and so did I.”

  Ettie was certain that her face was as red as a cherry, but she pressed on. “Anyway, he invited me to eat dinner at the Culler’s Rest with him.” Her aunt’s raised eyebrows seemed to taunt her, as if to say, you aren’t helping your case, but Ettie pressed on. “It was crowded and a lot of people had already started their night’s drinking, so I tried to ignore the noise as best I could, but one conversation stuck out to me.”

  “The first man said -” Ettie did her best to remember the words exactly as she’d heard them. “- something like, ‘the Pyre Queen’s crossed the line.” She paused, to see whether her aunt would react to the less-than-flattering title.

  “Go on,” was all the queen said.

  “And then the other one said, ‘it’s bad enough we have to be ruled by those knife-earred fucks.” Ettie squirmed against the seat of the carriage uncomfortably. Most people considered words like that to be just about as rude and hateful as you could get, and they were rarely heard in the alliance. Supposedly, in Lucania the slur was more common, especially among those who’d lost parents or grandparents in the war. “He was angry you weren’t doing what the guilds wanted. Said they were the only people who’d stand up to the Temple of the Trinity.”

  Aunt Livara remained silent, listening, but she drummed her fingers against her leg.

  “So then the first one said you’d get what’s coming to you,” Ettie said. “He said you wouldn’t be the Witch Queen, or the Queen of Scars - when you’re dead, you could be the Queen of Ghosts.”

  “What makes you think it wasn’t simply drunken workers grousing?” her aunt asked, after a moment’s consideration. “People do that when they’ve had a few cups of ale, and as much as we may not like what they say, it isn’t a crime.”

  Ettie was already shaking her head, before it was even her turn to speak. “No, it didn’t sound like that. I’ve heard people complaining before, especially when they don’t notice me or know who I am.” In fact, it was sometimes downright uncomfortable. “This felt like they meant something specific, like they knew something was going to happen and they were gloating about it. Anticipating it.”

  “Did you get a look at them?”

  “I made certain to, after that,” Ettie answered, with a nod. “Two men, both heavyset, with wide shoulders and strong arms. Labourers, like you said. One with a bit of gray in his hair and beard, the other all dark black hair and clean-shaven.”

  “That could describe any of a hundred men in the city,” her aunt pointed out.

  Ettie couldn’t help but grin. “Aye, but they also had guild tattoos on their forearms,” she said. This was the piece that had made her confident enough to approach her aunt. “One the smiths, and one the framers and joiners.”

  “You saw them clearly?” Aunt Liv asked.

  Ettie nodded again. “Of course I did.” She tapped two fingers against her temple, just to the side of her left eye. “Clear as you please.”

  “Guild tattoos means they’re masters, and there aren’t so many of those in the city we can’t root two out of the crowd,” her aunt said, speaking aloud. “You did good, Ettie. Excellent work. Wren will be back any day now, and I’ll set her on it. She’ll find out what’s happening.”

  For just a moment, Ettie tried to feel relief. She’d told her aunt - told the queen - and now it was out of her hands. People with more experience than her would take over from here, and she didn’t have to worry about this any more.

  But there was something still itching at her, and as the wheels of the carriage rolled along, jostling her against the cushions, Ettie was finally able to put her finger on just what it was. She’d been the one to find out about these men - and if anything happened, after she turned away, wouldn’t it be her fault for not having done more? Commander Wren was basically a legend - she’d defected from Ractia right at the beginning, fought in every major battle of the alliance, and even thrown King Benedict’s spymaster off a rusting mountain - but she wasn’t in the city right now, was she? Aunt Liv had just said so.

  “I want to hunt them down,” Ettie blurted out.

  Her aunt blinked. “No.”

  “I’ve actually seen their faces,” Ettie argued, leaning forward in her seat. “No one else has, not even Shooting Star. I’ll recognize them if I get a good look at them.”

  “The tattoos combined with your description is good enough,” Liv said, in return. “Wren will be able to -”

  “But what if it isn’t?” Ettie interrupted, which she would never have dared to do in public. It was one thing to interrupt your aunt, but something else entirely to interrupt a queen. Not many people could get away with doing that. “What if they have their arms wrapped up in bandages, to hide the tattoos? What if Wren doesn’t get back to the city in time to find them? What if something happens, and I could have stopped it?”

  Aunt Liv smiled, and her voice softened. “I’m not easy to kill, Ettie. You don’t have to worry about me. If a goddess hasn’t been able to do it, a couple of guildsmen won’t be able to, either. That they even think they can is - well, ridiculous. Apparently it's been too long since I destroyed an army, and people have forgotten.”

  Those words were horrifying in their own way, but Ettie didn’t let that stop her. “Maybe you are safe,” she conceded. “But what about Rianne?”

  “Rianne has plenty of protectors,” Aunt Liv said. “Your cousin is about the safest little girl on the entire continent of Isvara, Ettie. I’ve made certain of that.”

  “But what if something happens you aren’t expecting? What if they’re trying to get to you, and they hurt her instead?” Ettie insisted. “If that happened - if I could have done something to stop it, and I didn’t, if I did nothing and she was hurt - I don’t think I could live with myself.”

  Livara leaned back into the cushion of the carriage seat, and threw her head back, so that she was looking up at the ceiling - the ceiling that was coated in the shining pane of a mana shield. She reached her hands up, pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, and groaned. It was one of the least-royal things Ettie had ever seen her aunt do.

  “Fine,” Aunt Liv said, dropping her hands and sitting up straight again, so that she could meet Ettie’s eyes. “Fine. Here’s what you can do. You can keep your magical little eyes and ears open for these people. If you see them, you come directly up to the palace and tell me. If you can’t find me, you tell Keri, or Ghveris, or Wren, or Miina, or someone like that. You can even take your Red Shield friend along with you when you’re looking; he’ll know how to hunt without being seen. You aren’t to go anywhere that isn’t public. No breaking into guild-halls, no trying to get into someone’s room at an inn, no creeping up to windows from the alley outside, nothing like that. Just, if you happen to recognize a face, or a voice, you let us know.”

  Ettie nodded eagerly, but her aunt wasn’t done.

  “You are not to try to capture anyone yourself, or interfere with anything if you do find them,” Liv continued. “You are not to get in a fight. You aren’t ready for that yet. You see them, you take note of where, and you disengage and come tell us. Can you do that?”

  “I can. I promise I can, Aunt Liv,” Ettie said.

  “Do not make me regret this.” Her aunt raised her hand, pointing a finger directly at Ettie’s face. “I do not want to have to explain to your parents how you got knifed in an alley or something like that. Come along now.” She reached for the door of the carriage, and it was only then that Ettie realized they’d come to a halt.

  “Come with you?” Ettie echoed, dumbly.

  “Yes, into the Merchants Guild hall,” her aunt explained, as the mana shields inside the carriage dissolved into motes of glowing mana. “On the off chance that we pass either of the men you’ve described, I might as well have you with me to point them out.”

  Ettie couldn’t help but grin. “Thank you!”

  “Don’t thank me,” Liv grumbled. “You’re going to have to sit through what promises to be a rather boring meeting. I’m sure you’ll regret coming along by the end, but here we are. Follow me, and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.”

  on Patreon!

  here. I am more available there than I am here.

  Dramatis Personae

  Livara t?r Valtteri Kaen Syv? - Archmage, former scullery maid at Castle Whitehill, the bastard daughter of Maggie Brodbeck and Valtteri Ka Auris. Queen of the Alliance and Lady of Winter. Already certain that she has made a mistake in agreeing to this nonsense... [38 Rings of Mana, not counting mana stored in items.]

  Ghveris, the Beast of Iuronnath - Formerly a Great Bat in service to Ractia, now the remains of his body form the heart of an Antrian juggernaut. Guard duty. [Mana Battery: 10 Rings]

  Henriette Summerset aka Ettie- Daughter of Matthew and Triss, niece of Liv and Keri, cousin of Rei and Princess Rianne. Heir to the Duchy of Whitehill. Apprentice of the Mages Guild. Ambush! [12 Rings of Mana]

  Ronja t?r Taneli k?n Asuris - Apprentice of the Mages Guild. Doing her Tiny Tim impression. [14 Rings of Mana]