Princess of the Sword Read Free Page A

find nothing unusual about two cloaked and hooded figures wandering the halls in the middle of the night. Miach had told her that it was common to see both students and masters in the passageways at all hours, studying or thinking or working on some perplexing magical tangle of some sort or another. Morgan wondered how anyone bore the place. Despite her attempts to ignore it, the magic was almost stifling. She could feel it rising up from the ground like a foul mist. In time, she realized she was gasping.

    Miach stopped suddenly and pulled her into an alcove with him. “We’ll rest for a moment.”

    She leaned back against the wall instead of collapsing there, but doing so took almost more of her self-discipline than she had to spare. “Thank you.”

    “You’re doing well.”

    She didn’t think she was doing well at all. She never should have set foot inside the accursed place—never mind what she thought she owed Miach, never mind that she’d come over the walls fully expecting to not take a decent breath whilst she was there.

    She had actually listened to Miach earlier when he’d said that Buidseachd was built on a spring of magic, and three thousand years of wizards puttering about inside it had added innumerable layers to what had already been there. She had stopped listening once Miach and her grandfather had begun discussing the wizardly mischief that had dredged up things under Buidseachd’s foundations that perhaps had been better left alone, things that had left Sìle and Eulasaid of Camanaë and Proìseil of Ainneamh very nervous centuries ago. Perhaps she should have paid more attention to what those things had been. If she had, she might have been less likely to trust her ability to endure things far beyond what another might be able to.

    She touched Weger’s mark over her brow, the mark that had exacted an excruciating price in discipline to win, then forced herself to take a pair of deep, even breaths. She looked up at Miach. “None of this troubles you, does it?”

    “I suppose that depends on where I find myself. There are places even here—” He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “Nay, it doesn’t, for the most part, but I’ve been here before. We’ll be swift.”

    She nodded, pushed away from the wall, then put her head down and merely watched his feet as he walked without haste in front of her. She was almost grateful when she felt a chill blow across her face.

    Until she realized where the chill was coming from.

    Miach continued to walk, though, and she continued to follow him because she could do nothing else. If he was affected by what was rapidly turning into bone-numbing cold, he didn’t show it.

    He finally stopped in front of a doorway that was so full of darkness, she could hardly make out where a doorknob might be located. It was enough to know that this was the source of the coldness. Miach was still for quite some time, as if he listened. Morgan wished he would hurry. The longer she stood there, the more she dreaded going inside. At one point, as he picked the lock with skill even her most crafty mercenary companions would have been impressed by, she almost suggested that they return back the way they’d come.

    But he opened the door before she could open her mouth and whatever else she might have been, she was no coward. If Miach could go inside, then so could she.

    Though it took far more of her strength of will to cross that threshold than it should have.

    The chamber was less dark than she’d feared it might be. A fire burned in the fireplace that faced the door and a servant slept on its hearth. Morgan jumped a bit when she felt Miach’s hand on her arm, but he was only pointing toward a corner. She happily made her way there and stood in the absolute dark, grateful for its concealment. She could leap out at any moment and guard Miach’s back. And given where they found themselves, she wasn’t completely sure that wouldn’t be necessary.

    She