The Mage's Daughter Read Free

past month. He was tempted to see if he couldn’t have a more complete idea of how she fared, what she was doing, what she was thinking, but that seemed too invasive somehow. It was enough to know that she lived still.
    He’d had moments when he feared she wouldn’t.
    He opened his eyes, then jumped a little in surprise. His brother Cathar sat across from him, watching him gravely. Miach rubbed his hands over his face.
    â€œHow long have you been there?” he asked.
    â€œAbout an hour,” Cathar said, holding out a mug of ale. “You were very far away.”
    â€œI was working,” Miach said. “Mostly.” He accepted the ale and downed it gratefully. “Is there something useful happening downstairs, or just more of the same?”
    â€œThe ceremony should begin soon, actually,” Cathar said. “I came to fetch you.”
    â€œFinally,” Miach said in disgust.
    â€œWell, you know Adhémar couldn’t resist delaying things a bit longer, just to see how many people he could annoy.”
    â€œHe’s succeeded, at least with me. I’m ready to have the torture over with so I can go.”
    â€œGo?” Cathar echoed, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Go where?”
    Miach eyed his brother. “You know where.”
    â€œTo Melksham, to see about Morgan,” Cathar said. “Aye, I knew. I’m just wondering if Adhémar will allow you to.”
    Miach opened his mouth to protest, but Cathar interrupted him with a laugh.
    â€œI’m provoking you,” he said. “I know ’tis only good taste that has kept you here this long.” He finished his ale and set the cup down. “Is your lady well?”
    â€œShe lives still,” Miach said. “I can tell nothing more than that.”
    â€œNo word from her?”
    â€œI didn’t expect any, actually.”
    â€œAt least none you’d want to hear,” Cathar agreed. He put his hands on his knees and rose. “So, you’ll be polite during the wedding, then be off to Melksham. Do you have a plan for when you arrive?”
    Miach set his cup aside, then rose and followed his brother across the chamber. “I thought I would just fall on my knees and blurt out an apology.”
    Cathar whistled softly. “I imagine you’ll need to get past the point where she wants to arrange all of her blades artistically in your gut before you attempt that.”
    Miach would have argued, but he feared Cathar was right. He would be fortunate indeed if Morgan ever spoke to him again.
    â€œWhat of what you’ll leave behind?” Cathar asked as they made their way down the twisting tower stairs. “What of the realm’s defenses?”
    â€œI don’t have to be here to see to them,” Miach said, “but you knew that already. As for anything else—” He shrugged. “I’m working on it.”
    Cathar only grunted.
    Miach walked with his brother through the marble-paved hallways, lit by dozens of glittering lamps and flanked, of course, by piles of luggage that hadn’t found homes yet. At least he wouldn’t have to trip over those much longer. A few more hours, then he would be on his way.
    He paused at the doors to the great hall. They were open and the tables laid for the wedding feast. Miach looked above the massive hearth at the back of the hall. In times past, the Sword of Angesand had hung there, protected from theft by its own magic, waiting for the right hand to come wield it.
    The sword was no longer there.
    Miach didn’t particularly like to think on why not.
    The Wielders of the Sword of Angesand will come, out of magic, out of obscurity, and out of darkness…
    He dragged his hand through his hair as he turned away from the hall and those words. He had thought, half a year earlier, that he might need the power of the Sword of Angesand to aid him in besting Lothar of Wychweald, the black