14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

P hulan's home sat at the northern end of Algorath within the Chax District. The red adobe walls were smooth inside and out and soared high above Ariadne's head. Though the building was a single story, it felt far more grand. No plants grew around the outside, and instead, Phulan decorated with stone sculptures and a single water fixture that worked its way almost completely around the house.

Inside, shelves of crystals and beautiful, polished stones stood every few feet. Everything from obsidian to jasper to selenite. Her dining table was a massive, carved slab of purple amethyst. She even opted for clear quartz for the chandelier dangling overhead rather than glass crystal most commonly seen in Valenul. There was no surface left untouched or unmade by some stone or another.

A bay of mashrabiya windows, propped open from the bottom, let in the cold desert night air. A plush rug with sitting pillows and woven blankets heaped atop it lay beneath, creating a cozy nook of comforts. They looked so inviting, Ariadne was tempted to lie down amongst them and drift into a deep slumber.

"Dawn is not far off," Phulan announced and handed her a shallow bowl. "Eat quickly. I have a room for you, then we'll discuss more in the evening."

Ariadne looked at the food she had never seen before: a thick orange sauce with vegetables and rice and a thin, airy bread. It smelled divine. She looked up to the mage to ask for a spoon when she found Kall tearing off a piece of his bread and using it to scoop the vegetables into his mouth.

She mimicked the motion and almost gasped at the smooth combination of flavors. Savory and spice danced across her tongue, alighting her senses.

She turned to Phulan, whose lips quirked as she said, "That drivel they call food in Valenul is a true crime."

"This is incredible," Ariadne agreed, though she suspected there were many Caersans who would disagree. Their palates were as bland as their personalities. Of course, she had fallen nicely into that very category over the last year—quiet, plain, and unassuming—but that era was over. That Ariadne died the moment her father locked her in the manor and allowed Azriel to be taken away in chains. Again.

No more would Ariadne shrink herself to meet the expectations of others. To fit in the carefully constructed boxes deemed appropriate for Caersan women. To shelter herself from the world and all its darkness.

For there was a darkness in her as well. One she had locked away, hoping it would wither and die as she shrouded it in cheerful colors and pretty smiles. It had sprung up like a well within that deep, miserable chasm that had yawned open all those nights ago. As sure as the spring of hope had rushed forth, so had her own shadows. They had guided her along the hidden paths between Laeton and Monsumbra, following the trails Azriel had once been forced to lead her down.

Ariadne took another bite of the delectable sauce, letting the foreign spices warm her from the inside. Strange how something as simple as a new food could unlock such thoughts.

Yet something glittered in Phulan's amethyst eyes as they sat at the table. She did not shy away from letting her interest be seen. After several silent minutes in which she and Kall finished their plates, scraping the shallow bowls clean, the mage said, "I'm quite eager to get to know you, Ariadne. Azriel has written many times about you this last year."

That darkness curled in her gut, hollowing it out with a sweep of cold. She did not focus on the fact that Azriel had failed to mention Phulan to her but instead on the intrigue of this meeting. "What did he say?"

Kall stiffened, his ruby eyes snapping to the mage and giving a subtle shake of his head.

"What?" Ariadne frowned at him. That hollowness whiplashed into icy dread. "What is it?"

The mage, however, did not look as perturbed as the dhemon. "He told me everything that happened with him. Ehrun, that rat. That he was to be your personal guard for the Season. Then he asked me to break his bond to you."

She should not have been surprised. He had, after all, attempted to end his life to rid himself of the bond. Nonetheless, the words hurt. Azriel had been so desperate to rid himself of her that he sought the aid of a mage.

Ariadne did not hide her grimace. "I see. What did you tell him?"

"An impossible task," Phulan said, her lips curling into a smile. "Most of the time, anyway. But for darling Azriel, I merely told him no ."

That had not been what she expected. An impossible task, perhaps, but not that she would deny him the freedom of removing the bond. So Ariadne frowned and asked, "Why?"

"It's a gift and a burden to be a mage." Phulan sighed, her smile growing. "Though it's rare to have visions of the future—for any mage, a prophet or not—I've been cursed with several."

Ariadne could not pinpoint the feeling that swirled in her chest. "What did you see?"

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Now, now. I can't tell you that. Just know what I've seen…has yet to come to pass."

"And how often are your visions correct?"

"The future is malleable." Phulan stood at that and gestured for them to follow. They did as they were bid, and the three of them walked down a wide hall illuminated with blue light emanating from the sconces. "Remain on your path, however, and you'll see it happen."

A door opened ahead of them as though pushed with a phantom breeze. The room beyond was a small sitting area with an array of low-sitting furniture and pillows beneath a ceiling of windows. Stars twinkled overhead, though the sky had begun to lighten—the first signs for a vampire to find a safe place to hide from the sun.

"Your rooms." Phulan nodded to the dual doors on the right, and they opened as though by a phantom hand. "Kall, you know where to go."

The dhemon, quiet as ever, nodded his thanks and disappeared into the bedroom beyond. He would likely wash, then fall asleep as quickly as Ariadne planned to once she had her own bed to lie on.

Then the doors on the left opened. The room beyond was dark, lit only by more low blue lights. When Phulan showed her inside, Ariadne discovered there to be no windows at all. No view of the outside world. Just a dark room with four walls, a bed, and several sconces along the walls.

Like a cell.

Ariadne froze just over the threshold. She swallowed hard, the scars on her back almost prickling with all of her lessons .

"Are you alright?" Phulan had circled back around, lines creasing her brows. "I had this room built for Madan, but I figured you would make good use of it."

"I…" What could she say? The thoughtfulness behind the gesture was unbelievably kind. Yet she stared at the shadows gathering in the corners and remembered the eyes. The hands. The bodies pressing in.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Ariadne took several steps back into the sitting room. Into the threat of sunlight sure to break over the horizon any minute. It was so open, so freeing to be in that shared space. To be where she could see the sky—the stars and moon that had guided her for so many nights.

Again, Phulan's eyes glittered. She tilted her head and pursed her lips before saying, "I understand. Perhaps I can help?"

The mage turned back to the room, and the blue lights flared to life, illuminating the space completely. With the brightness restored, Ariadne could better see the pattern of the quilt on the plush floor-level bed, the mound of pillows at the head, and the massive painting hung at the far side of the room depicting a field of wildflowers with a river winding through.

"Would you like the lights to remain on?" Phulan studied her. "Or would that keep you from sleeping?"

Ariadne thought back to all the days over the last year she had left the candelabra lit beside her bed. She had ceased needing the light only once she began sharing her bed with Azriel. He alone kept the shadows and memories at bay. With him gone again, she had taken to lighting the candles in Monsumbra.

"I can sleep just fine in the light," she said with a small smile. "Though it could be a little more dim?"

The mage nodded, and the blue lights lowered. "Sleep. I will cover the windows in the sitting room as well. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything."

With that, Phulan was gone. Ariadne found a washing basin in the room once she closed the doors and, after removing her clothes, scrubbed the sand from her. She dried and pulled on the light shift laid out on the bed before sliding between the covers.

Sleep did not come easily. It eluded her despite the long nights as she tossed and turned, one hand always sliding across the broad expanse of the bed in search of the one person for whom her heart cried.

It did not take long for Ariadne to learn how few establishments came to life in Algorath after dark. Aside from Chax District's back alley dealings, minimal music taverns, and booming trade in bodies, very little remained available for night-walking patrons. No wonder so few vampires, Caersans especially, visited the mage city. Unless they sought pleasure halls and drugs, there was nothing else to do.

So Ariadne threw herself into training with Kall in Phulan's stone garden. With or without the city to explore, there was no better way to keep her mind occupied than moving. The more she moved, the less time she had to think. Thinking, after all, was dangerous. Thinking meant envisioning all the terrible things happening to Azriel. Thinking meant losing herself in that chasm of despair.

Without much of an explanation, Kall allowed her a small blade. Though excited about her upgrade at first, she soon understood why he withheld such tools for so long.

Dhemons, after all, did not heal as fast as vampires.

Thanks to Phulan's endless skill at healing, Kall never suffered from a wound for long. It was only after the fifth time she drew the knife across his skin that she realized that had been his plan the entire time. It was also why Phulan remained nearby, sipping her drink of choice each night and watching them. The mage did not care for Ariadne's training. She cared for her friend's safety.

Until, of course, Ariadne approached her, dripping with sweat and shaking with nerves. The question she asked had not been what the mage expected.

"You want to train with me ?" Phulan's black eyebrows almost flew off her face as she peered at Ariadne over her cup of chai. "With magic ?"

She raised her chin a bit and stood a little straighter from her place in the doorway to the garden. Kall leaned against the wall, sweat dripping down his face and arms crossed over his broad chest as he looked between them. They had spent the early waking hours training hard, as usual. When she had asked him his opinion on the matter, he had agreed that it would be wise. Physical strength and agility could not compete with a mage.

"I have heard time and again," Ariadne said, "that Melia is dangerous. If she has enough power—politically and as a mage—to maintain her position as Desmo, then I need to know how to stand against her, should I need it."

Phulan watched her as though she had grown two heads. She set her chai on the table and cautioned, "There is no preparing you for what Melia can do. Our magic is very different."

Fear threatened to leech into Ariadne and crack her resolve. She hardly knew the woman but, like Kall, had decided to trust her as her husband would have. "Different how?"

"Mages are born with natural gifts." Phulan stood and moved closer. "We're all capable of harnessing any form of magic, but some come easier than others, and most mages choose to hone those natural skills rather than fight against the others in order to learn them."

Ariadne had heard something of the sort before. Anything from elemental magic like the fae to battle magic most often utilized by sentinels to necromancy was available to mages. She did not understand them, so she waited for her new friend to explain further.

"I'm naturally inclined to heal." Phulan extended her hand, and it glowed with a dim light that radiated warmth. "I chose to dig into this gift and strengthen it in my favor. It's how I've lived so long. It's also why I've never put up a fight against others, even when they hurt my friends. In the end, I'd do more harm than good against someone like Melia."

"What are her skills?" Ariadne hardened herself against the worst. What pain and torment could she cause with a mere flick of her wrist? None of Madan's or Kall's warnings had described her capabilities.

"Melia's a brilliant illusionist." Phulan lowered her hand, her brows pinching together with an unspoken memory. "She can make you see and do things you'd never believe yourself capable of."

That had not been what Ariadne expected. A battle mage, perhaps, had made the most sense to her. The ability to wield weapons from afar and rain agony from above had seemed to be the sort of person she would be. Not illusions. Illusions could not physically harm anyone. They could not touch someone or cause pain. They could not kill a person with a single thought.

Ariadne struggled to wrap her mind around the threat Melia posed. "Is there a way to learn how to recognize an illusion?"

With a grimace, Phulan said, "Yes. With practice. But my skills with illusions are basic. Melia's are…difficult to discern even for a mage who knows they're happening."

"Will you teach me to know when they happen?" If nothing else, Ariadne could use that to her advantage. Being able to sense an illusion would help her know that not all she experienced was real.

Phulan sighed. "I will do my best. I can't guarantee it'll help, though."

"Anything is better than nothing." Ariadne bit her lip. "I need any advantage I can get."

"Then tell me," Phulan said and side-stepped around Ariadne, "which is real."

Only…she did not step around her. Phulan remained exactly where she was. Another version of her moved toward Kall. An illusion of her.

"Illusions can fool any of the senses." Phulan's voice came from outside, but it sounded garbled and not quite right. Both versions of the mage reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. They were equally heavy and gave a squeeze at the same time. "Even touch."

Gods, Ariadne was in trouble. She looked between the two Phulans, then up at Kall, who shook his head and shrugged. He was none the wiser to which was which, either. If he, after spending so much more time with Melia, could not spot the differences, what hope did Ariadne have?

"I know you can feel the magic," Phulan said from all around her. "You have ancient, dormant mage blood in your veins. Follow it."

The words settled on her. Was that why she could sense the mages using their powers all around her in the markets of Algorath? Why she knew when something was not as it seemed, even back in Laeton?

"I do not know how." Ariadne looked from one Phulan to the other.

"Center yourself."

This was not what she had expected. She anticipated learning how to go up against a mage who would use magic as a way to physically do her harm. Not face off against someone— something —she could not discern from reality. This was a mind game, and every moment of training with Kall was useless.

But she did as she was told and inhaled deeply. Ten…

Nine…

Exhale. Such breathing exercises were not something she did often in recent nights. Only when something pushed her too far while training.

Eight…

Ariadne closed her eyes and brought her attention to the air around her, vibrating with the magic floating through it. The illusions themselves put out an energy that did not match what she was accustomed to feeling.

Seven…

Another exhale. She could hear Kall breathing, still standing in the same place. But not Phulan. There was no breath from the mage. Odd.

Six…

She pivoted, trying to feel the magic as Phulan instructed. It had to be there somewhere.

Five…

Her eyes snapped open. Something had shifted right beside her, and when she looked, there was nothing. Not an illusion. Not a person. Nothing.

Four…

Ariadne sucked in another breath, the exercise doing nothing but causing more frustration the longer it took her to understand the magic. It burned in her chest, coaxed by each sharp breath.

Three…

She grit her teeth and reached toward the empty space. There was something there. There had to be.

Two…

A soft, bell-like laugh floated through the open door. Ariadne's heart skipped. She whipped in its direction to see Phulan standing there with her arms crossed.

One…

She released the final breath, and Phulan disappeared. The other version of her flickered out of sight as well.

"You let yourself get distracted." Phulan stood beside her, right where she had reached out.

If Phulan was not practiced in illusions and had been able to confuse her so thoroughly, what hope did Ariadne have in sensing Melia's magic? None. She could continue to practice all she wanted, but she would never be prepared enough to face the Desmo. Especially if she was going to do so before Azriel was killed.