“If you lace me up, we can go.” I turned my back to him. I waited and nothing happened. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” I glanced over my shoulder at him.
Mychael was grinning like a little boy. “I can honestly say that you’re my first.”
I felt my face getting warm, and quickly turned away. “It’s easy. You just start at the bottom and work your way up.”
A moment later, I felt his fingers on the base of my spine. His touch was like a shock. I let out a little gasp before I could stop it.
He paused. “I’m sorry.”
“Fine,” I managed. “I’m fine. I must be a little ticklish down there. Go on.”
He did and I bit my lip against the incredible sensations running up and down my spine and spreading to other places. It was all I could do to stand still. I was glad my back was to him and he couldn’t see my face.
“I think I threaded the laces evenly before I put it on.” My mouth was suddenly dry. “So all you should have to do is tighten them.”
Mychael hesitated, his hands on my waist. “How tight do you like it?”
Oh my.
“Breathing’s good,” I told him. “I need air.” And I could use some more of it right now.
I felt four tugs in sharp succession. If he kept that up, I was going to have to hold on to the bedpost.
“How’s that?” His voice had turned husky.
“That’s good.” And then some. “Wait a minute. Let me…” I squirmed a little in the bodice, took a good breath, then put my hands on my waist and pushed the fabric toward the back. “There. That should work even better.”
Mychael’s hands were warm against my bare back as he worked at the laces, and he was standing so close that I could feel the heat from the rest of him.
Talk, Raine. Talking will help.
“Vegard said you and Justinius went to the elven embassy. You didn’t bring any embassy guards with you, so I assume that I’m still a free woman, and Piaras isn’t under protective custody.”
Mychael gave the laces a sharp tug and I bit back a squeak.
“It wasn’t for lack of trying on their part.” All signs of playful were gone. “Giles Keril argued that since you’re a subject of the elven king, you should be in their custody, not ours. I reminded him that the Isle of Mid is neutral and that any person, regardless of their race or kingdom of birth— unless convicted of a crime in an open court—is granted political asylum for as long as they desire it.”
As he talked, his hands became firm and sure on the laces. “So I have to officially ask you.” His voice was low and close to my ear. “Do you desire it?”
I froze. “Desire it?”
“Political asylum.”
Oh, that. “Yes, I desire it very much.”
“Good. There’s a document in my office you’ll need to sign. Piaras will need to do the same. I’ll take it from there.”
“So that will just delay things until the Khrynsani and Balmorlan can get this into open court.”
“Time was something we were running out of. This will buy us some more. I will find a solution.”
I wondered if my father had heard the same promise from his paladin before he was forced to take the Saghred and run. Or in my case, just run. Time to change the subject.
“I sent a message to Sedge Rinker. I linked with—”
“I know. Sedge was here when I got back. There are only a few places on the island that we know of with cells like you described. I have some men checking them out now.”
Mychael put his hands firmly around my waist, lifted me a scant inch or two off the floor, turned me so I was facing the door, and set me back down. “I need more light,” he explained. “The fireplace is over here.”
Of course.
“Did Sedge know if the kidnapped boy is a spellsinger?” I asked.
Mychael resumed tugging and tightening. “His name is Gustin Sorenson, and he graduated two years ago. He’s a spellsinger in one of the nightclubs.”
“Mychael, three spellsingers are no coincidence,” I said.
“I agree.”
“And Banan Ryce has yet to do anything with them or to them. That tells me he’s probably not finished collecting. When I was in the tub, Sarad Nukpana said I should look to my own people for who’s behind the kidnappings. I’m ashamed to say it, but Taltek Balmorlan is an elf. That means he’s ‘my people.’ Banan and his boys don’t come cheap, and the agency has some very deep pockets. Carnades has me in his sights, but today he and Balmorlan went after Piaras with a vengeance, and they almost got him. And in less than two hours, Ronan’s best spellsingers— including Piaras—will be on Sirens’s stage.”
Mychael finished my lacing with one last tug. “Yes, I know. I’ve already requested that the recital be canceled, or at least postponed.”
“And?”
“Justinius said no.”
I turned and stared at him in disbelief. “Justinius said no? The Twelve I could understand, but Justinius? His granddaughter is singing tonight. He can’t possibly want her there. Students are missing, Mychael. They’re all spellsingers. I’ve linked with them and they’re together.”
“I believe you. But the recital is in less than two hours. As archmagus, Justinius would need nothing short of a signed confession from Banan Ryce himself to stop it now. His official stance is that three kidnapped students, regardless of them all being spellsingers, doesn’t necessarily constitute a conspiracy. Justinius said that warding the dressing-room mirrors at Sirens and posting guards at the exits will be adequate to prevent any incident.”
I was dumbfounded. “Is this the same Justinius who chewed out the Twelve this afternoon?”
Mychael took a breath and let it out. “Yes. He didn’t doubt what I told him; he just knew the ramifications of canceling the recital.”
“I can tell him what the ramifications will be if he doesn’t.”
“Raine, it’s political.” Mychael said it like it left a foul taste in his mouth. “The Twelve would outvote him, and after the dressing-down he gave most of them after we left, they’d do just that, for spite if nothing else. He can’t afford to jeopardize alumni goodwill on anything less than cold, hard facts.”
“Can’t afford?”
“The office of archmagus is an elected position.”
I blinked. “He’s afraid of losing his job?”
“Yes, he’s afraid of losing his job because he knows what will happen if he does. Carnades Silvanus has enough support on the Twelve and enough influence with the wealthier alumni to get himself elected if Justinius loses the support base he has. After what nearly happened to you and Piaras this afternoon, I don’t have to tell you what the Isle of Mid would be like with Carnades as archmagus.”
“So the old man picks his battles carefully and watches his back.”
Mychael nodded. “And tonight he’s depending on me to do the watching. And he’s told me to protect those children as best as I can. According to Sedge Rinker’s report, even though Gustin Sorensen is a spellsinger, he’s no longer a student. And he wasn’t abducted through a mirror. There were witnesses, and they can’t say whether the kidnappers were human or elven.”
“But I’ve seen him. He’s there with those two girls. They were guarded by Nightshades.”
Mychael’s silence told me more than I needed to know.
“No one other than you and Justinius is going to believe the word of a Benares whose soul has been ‘contaminated by dark forces.’ ”
“Unfortunately, they’re not. Carnades doesn’t even believe you’ve linked with the students. He’s demanding a test of your abilities—that is, after you’re in elven intelligence custody.”
I swore. “It’s not my seeking abilities he wants tested.” I resisted the urge to pace. “Mychael, it’s just a recital.”
“I know it’s just a recital. But to the Twelve and the department deans, it’s the college’s most profitable alumni fundraiser.”
I was incredulous. “This is about money? Tell me you’re joking.”
Mychael’s lips were a thin, angry line. “Some of the college’s biggest financial supporters have traveled a great distance for this event. If it were up to me, I’d tell them all to go home. But it’s not up to me.”
“Meanwhile, you’re told to protect and defend. And if anything happens to those spellsingers tonight, it’s your ass.”
“It won’t be the first time it’s been on the line. Unfortunately, my job is as much about politics as protecting the citizens of this island.”
“Then why do you do it? No, let me rephrase that. How can you do it?”
“Because I know I’m better at it than anyone else,” he said with an intensity and conviction that was almost frightening. “And if I didn’t do it, mages like Carnades would reduce the Guardians to ceremonial guards—or personal enforcers. It has happened before, and I will fight to my last breath to keep it from ever happening again.”
I nodded in grim approval. “Not on your watch.”
Mychael eyes were like blue steel. “Not on my watch.”
“If elven intelligence wants to get their collective hands on me, it’s not because of who I am or what they say I’ve done,” I told him. “As to me being dangerous, they don’t fear that; they want it for themselves. Most of all, they want it before the goblins can get it.”
I stopped talking. What I’d read in the tub clicked into place with what I’d just said.
“What is it?” Mychael asked.
“Rudra Muralin said in his journal that his bond with the Saghred was so strong that he could use it from anywhere to do whatever he wanted. Distance didn’t matter. The stone only had to be two things—awake and fed—and it didn’t have to be anywhere near him. He claimed that he and the Saghred were one and the same.” More pieces fell into place. “Mychael, no one’s actually tried to steal the Saghred, but the Khrynsani and elven intelligence want me really bad. When Sarad Nukpana came to me in the tub, he said that the Saghred was conserving power. In his journal, Rudra Muralin wrote that before he did anything big and deadly with the Saghred, he had to sacrifice souls to it— magically gifted souls were preferred.”
