Page 78 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

Laughter floats from inside as it rolls away.

Talon curses. They glance at Aoife reluctantly, standing at the edge of the yard. “You know where they’re going?”

“The old fencing yards. On the other side of—”

“Yeah. I know where it is.”

Talon tosses a coin to a groom leading a gray mare toward the crowd of servants following the carriage. The boy catches it and tosses the reins to Talon.

They turn to me. “You can ride, right?”

Stubborn pride answers for me, still smarting at the door slammed in my face. “How hard can it be?”

Harder than it looks, actually.

I almost go flying at the bounce in the mare’s trot as I follow Talon’s stolen black gelding down the winding path leading from the castle to the far back side of the walled grounds. We go past the gardens, picking up our pace behind the carriage as we follow to where the castle grounds brush up against the hills rising from the sea cliffs and stretch along the back of the city like a spine.

Not stolen,I can practically hear Talon groan.Borrowed.

The carriage ahead catches the dim light, past a curve in the path, and the breath slips out of me as I fight for balance on the slowing horse’s bouncing gait.

Whoa.

The fencing yard is the size of the Quayside market and is ringed with pavilion stands draped with fluttering dyed linens so fine that light filters through in gauzy beams. Each one is thronged with bodies, craning out over the ledges, as our horses carry us into the yard.

I hear the rattle of coins and the bets that follow as Talon slides off the horse, then offers out a hand to help me down to my unsteady feet.

Cold, assessing eyes climb all over me.

There are nobles from throughout our isle, of course, and even some Leonese, regal sweeps and swirls of shimmering dark ink marking their arms, from the lands at the far edges of Cymrea’s southern borders. Most of our coffee comes from the Leon Republic. Spices too. There’s hardly been a bucket of the precious blue crystal azurite dug out from Eireann’s western mines since the Seven Wells ran dry, and while the Leon Republic won’t trade theirs, some say the Málmar Islands are still brimming with it.

I notice two pairs of obsidian eyes widening on me then—a pair of Leonese envoys in brocade trousers and rich red-and-gold cloaks. A circlet of gold rings the tall Leonese woman’s head, the man at her side shorter and stockier. Talon nods subtly to the man, and the woman’s dark gaze jumps to me, to the prince, and back again.

My skin tingles, and an eerie feeling not unlike fingers along the edge of my mind makes every hair stand up down the length of my arms. Those tattoos… they almost look like whirls of magic inked into their skin. Is such a thing possible?

Talon’s hand finds my wrist. “Let them look at you,” they murmur. “Don’t show fear.”

A cool inhale steadies my hammering pulse, but a growing wariness spreads through me. I keep my voice low enough so no one but Talon can hear me and whisper, “Are they mages?”

The crowds tighten around the pavilions, rows of noblesall drinking and laughing in the stands, and no one except the Leonese pay any more attention to me—to us.

Talon glances around us carefully. “Not the way we think of the word,” they say. “Magic doesn’t work there the way it’s been used here. It’s not just mages who learn to wield it.”

“Anyonecan?”

The concept feels too huge to wrap my head around. Any time I’ve thought about what it would be like to have magic back on Eireann, it’s always been through mages. A system for buying it from those who’ve studied for years—decades—to become experts in its uses. That’s how it’s always been here, in every story I’ve ever heard.

I never even thought to imagine another way.

A way where people likememight use magic without needing a mage to sell it to us.

“They run schools. Teach every citizen simple sums, and spelling. Basic magic too. No battle magic, but little things. Healing. Stretching out a cup of beans, or easing a fever.”

My heart stammers, exhilaration racing in my blood. “How?”

“They’re a monarchy, yes, but the power lies with the people. Elected councils make all the important decisions, so they make sure all the people are capable of rising if they choose that path. The monarch’s power is mostly ceremonial—unless they need to overrule a council that tries to do something against the country’s constitution. A last resort to check anyone who would abuse their power on the elected councils.”

Old Ones, it almost sounds impossible. That any rulers would willingly share power—that magic might not need to be controlled only by mages, either.