His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 36: A Consolvas

I knock on Trevus's office door at dawn. There's no answer. I knock a second time, and the door clicks open an inch.

Widening the gap reveals the office is empty. I step inside and open the window shutters to the sun peeking over the horizon.

A flower lies on Trevus's desk. The striking pink petals and white pollen are immediately recognizable. It's my favorite – a consolvas. I run my fingers through the soft petals. Why does Trevus have one? Was he thinking of me?

"You should not handle what is not yours," Trevus says.

I whip around. He's standing at the door with his arms crossed.

I lay the flower back on the desk. "My apologies. I find the consolvas striking."

His eyes narrow. He closes the door and approaches. I fold my hands behind my back.

"You are truly of Versillia?" Trevus asks.

Salts. After only one sentence today, he's already suspicious.

"Your accusation is offensive." I answer with the same confidence that came to my rescue yesterday. Both of us know feigning Versillian citizenship to work in the palace would be enough for an espionage conviction.

"You dwelled in Corinth your entire life?" he asks.

"I have." Instinctively, I want to look away, but I hold his gaze.

"Are you aware, Raylia of Corinth," he drags out the last word, as if to question its legitimacy, "Not a soul in the palace would be able to name this species."

I wait for him to finish. Offering the wrong information might only trap me further.

"The consolvas is a rare flora, present only in northern lands," he says.

"My mother's family is of Troas," I say. "Are those of the palace of narrow education?" Troas was close when our party encountered the fields of flowers. Having a connection there is a reasonable explanation.

He holds my gaze for a long while. Every day he grows more suspicious of my identity, and it won't be long before he sees through it. Captain of the Palace Guard was a title he earned. Even with unheard-of face-illusion sorcery, an intruder won't last long here.

"'Tis time to begin the day's tasks," he finally speaks. The interrogation is over for the moment.

He passes two silver coins. I'm careful not to touch his skin. "Purchase five clay pots from potter Millius. His work is fine, and his dwelling lies just beyond the inner-city fortifications."

I nod and leave the office.

Sunlight washes over my skin as I exit the palace's front doors. They're always open during the day, with two guards on either side.

I halt at the sight of the grand silver gates that separate the palace from the inner city. A tall wooden arch has been constructed over the gates. Seven white round stones are mounted around the arch – rahlite. If I were to try pass, the rahlite would glow, and I'd be arrested on the spot. How can I leave now?

The silver gates tower over four times my height, and the stone walls that surround the palace aren't much shorter. I begin walking the perimeter in search of another way out, careful to stay halfway between the palace and the walls to avoid the attention of the guards on the ramparts.

After half an hour, I arrive back at the silver gates again. There are no other breaks in the wall. An east staircase grants access onto the ramparts, but that doesn't solve the problem of getting down and back up the outer side. There's no doubt that the soldiers would put a stop to such a stunt.

I'm trapped on palace grounds, but just admitting that would lead to my arrest. Trevus can't know.

I negotiate with a woman named Monia, another servant like myself. In exchange for an extra silver coin, she passes through the gate and purchases the pottery on my behalf. I have little other need for money anyway.

I run a few more errands for Trevus throughout the day, thankfully all within palace bounds. Soon it's evening, and I've settled down next to the smaller window in his office.

Trevus is reading through a set of documents on his desk. Typically, that activity puts a bored expression on his face, but this time he looks concerned.

"What are they of?" I ask.

"Present matters of the state." He avoids my question, and that only further piques my interest.

"Are they about her?"

He looks up from the pages. They are.

"What was she like?" I ask.

"The Seventh is a young Mephian woman. She spent ten years imprisoned in Antiock. She agreed to join my venture in exchange for her freedom, and now she roams the land of her own accord."

"Any soldier within the palace could share the same knowledge," I say. "You accompanied her for weeks upon your venture. Tell your experience." I shift my chair beside his desk. Facts of my own life aren't of real interest. What I want to know is how he feels about me.

Trevus looks at the consolvas in the corner of his desk.

"We did share time together," he says.

I wait a minute before speaking again. "What was she truly like?"

"Strong in opinion." The corner of his lip briefly tugs up to a smile.

Does he remember me fondly?

"Soft of heart."

What does he mean?

He picks up the flower, then notices my confusion. "She forgave us."

"Us?"

"The whole of Versillia. And myself."

Hating everyone around you is lonely. Even if Versillians threw me in that tower, and Trevus held me captive in his party, I so desperately didn't want to be alone anymore. Even now, that same longing hasn't left. I want to know if he's feelings were as real as mine, and if they still are. I'm just going to ask him – "Did you care for her?"

"To affirm such a statement would be akin to treason." He flicks the flower over the windowsill, and it floats to the gardens below.

I jump up from my chair and put my head out the window. It's gone. "Why would you do that?"

"I should not have brought it back. It holds memories of anguish. They would best be forgotten."

Trevus. I'm sorry.

He heads to the door. "Have a good night, Raylia."