The Princess of Trelian Read Free Page B

take too long for the mages to decide what to do about Sen Eva. Serek had sent letters with the whole story ahead of time, so the council already knew what had happened.
    Master Su’lira’s hand shifted slightly to a new area, and the pain flared up more intensely again. Calen clenched his teeth to stop himself from crying out.
    He didn’t want to ask the man to stop. He wanted to be able to sit there and take it, to be strong and get through it without needing a break. He tried again to think about other things. About Meg. About magic. About whether there would be a banquet as part of his marking ceremony. He liked banquets. At the banquet following Meg’s sister’s wedding, there had been every kind of food Calen could imagine. There had been a whole table just for dessert. Calen had had two servings of a baked apple concoction that was pretty much the best thing he had ever tasted in his whole life. Sweet and sticky and hot with some kind of syrup all over it and a delicate pastry crust that flaked off as soon as you touched it with your fork.
    Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!
    Baked apples. Right. He would just keep thinking about baked apples. Hot, delicious, syrupy baked apples. Nothing painful about those.
    Suddenly he became aware that the needle wasn’t touching him anymore.
    “Yes, all right,” Master Su’lira said, sitting back. “We’re all finished here.”
    Calen took a deep breath. Finished! That hadn’t been too terrible, really. The pain was fading rapidly, and it was already hard to remember just how much it had hurt. But he was glad it was over. He started to reach up to touch his face. The Marker slapped his hand away.
    “Do not touch!” he said. “You must wait until it’s been healed.” He looked over at Serek.
    Serek straightened up and walked closer, eyeing Calen’s face appraisingly. Then he raised one hand palm out, and Calen saw a faint haze of golden energy gathering around Serek’s fingers. Gold laced with tiny threads of green and purple. At Serek’s subtle gesture, the energy flowed swiftly toward Calen’s face. His skin felt tingly for a moment, and then — nothing. No more stinging, no soreness. He looked up at Serek.
    “The marking process itself cannot involve magic,” Serek said, “but healing is allowed after it’s over. There’s no need for you to walk around with a bandage on your face.” He twisted his lips into an almost-smile. “Besides, it takes away from the ceremony if your face is swollen and bleeding the whole time.”
    “Oh,” Calen said.
Ugh.
“Um, thanks.”
    “The marks are also spelled so that they’ll grow with you, at least until you reach your full height.”
    “Oh,” Calen said again. “The green and purple.”
    Serek looked as though he wanted to say something, but he glanced at the Marker and just nodded slightly. Calen still kept forgetting that no one else could see the colors he saw when someone was casting. That was another part of what they were supposed to talk about at the meeting tomorrow.
    Master Su’lira brought over a hand mirror with a carved wooden handle. Calen took it and slowly held it up in front of his face.
    His initiate mark had been a small symbol, a crescent moon with a double-headed arrow running through it horizontally and another line crossing it vertically, centered directly under his left eye. He was so used to seeing that in the mirror that he hardly noticed it anymore. But now — the vertical line had been extended at the bottom into a spiral that curled out and then in and terminated with a tiny star at the center. Along the line that led down into the spiral, on the opposite edge, were three small sideways points, almost triangles. They looked sort of like a sideways crown. Or dragon crests.
    He looked back up to see Serek and Master Su’lira both standing before him, arms crossed. Serek’s expression was neutral, as usual. The Marker was smiling and nodding to himself.
    “It looks very nice, yes? A fine first