Page 5 of Mistress of Hours

He loved Beitar; would never tire of its wild, dramatic beauty. Its cold winds and shades of white and gray, a crackling fire in a massive hearth, the shadowy gothic halls of the university—it was home.

But Orion had spent his years dreaming of seeing the rest of the world. His love of folklore and magic had led him to devour every book he could get his hands on from the moment he could read. For the first time, he was faced with an opportunity not just to imagine, but to experience.

Orion could hardly believe he was about to set foot on Ichornian land.

The damp air seeped into Orion’s heavy cloak as his dappled gray horse, Maisie, carried him down the southern side of another rolling hill.

Before he and Solon had departed, he had gone to his parent’s home outside the Beitaran capital city of Sgùrdruid, where he lived and worked. Their cottage was perched high up the mountainside at the end of a winding road of steep switchbacks. The walk was nerve-racking, but the view was breathtaking.

Over dinner with his parents, Orion had explained the official reason for their journey: they would attend the celebration the Ichornian queens were hosting to celebrate the turn of themillennium. His father hadn’t had much to say, only clapping his son on the shoulder and nodding in approval. His mother, on the other hand, had fussed over him, making sure he had enough warm clothes for the journey and had packed a basket of baked goods to send with him.

Orion was grateful to be on such good terms with his family; he knew many were not so fortunate. They had always been supportive of his dream to work at the university in Sgùrdruid, though they did not always understand his motives.

After a few hours of weaving around and over seemingly endless foothills, they came to the edge of Mulhouse. It was a hardy town made up of buildings of stone with massive exposed timber beams and thatched roofs lining the wide gravel streets. Despite its geographic significance as the northernmost town in Ichorna, it was not particularly affluent. Its people worked primarily harvesting lumber and tending sheep.

The two Beitarans made their way through town, catching curious glances from the townspeople as they went. They found the Inn on the southern end of the small town square. They left their horses with the stablehand, paying him well for his services, before entering the Inn.

He and Solon agreed they would prefer rest over conversation for the night, so they asked the innkeeper to send dinner up to their rooms. Orion peeled off his slightly damp clothes and laid them out near the small fireplace in his room to dry. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for his own hearth back home.

Sitting on the plush rug, he crossed his legs and let the steam from his bowl of stew brush across his face. He stared into the flames, feeling exhausted and something else—he felt on the precipice of something. That uncanny feeling, like a premonition, sent a wave of adrenaline through his veins.

Orion knew the true purpose of their trip—a truth that only he and Solon trusted one another with. He had no doubt they wouldnot have been allowed to go if the king had even the slightest suspicion of what they planned to do, despite it being in Beitar’s best interests.

He supposed the feeling was just anxiety. He was going somewhere new, doing something unprecedented; he only hoped that they would be successful. Beitar’s magic hung in the balance.

Chapter Three

The cool morninglight filled Evienne’s chamber as she caught her own gaze in the full-length mirror.She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. Her skin was as pale as it had always been, but her cheeks now wore a rosy glow. Bright hazel eyes met her stare, unmarred by the bruised purple that had haunted them in the past.

Her figure was full and soft, not wrung out with anxiety as it had been for so many years. She had been wasting away, but the woman before her now wasliving. She smiled at this version of herself, healthy and whole and completely her own.

She turned away from her mirror and paused to breathe and feel this moment. Today was another day she could live as her own person, find out more about whoshewanted to be.

This room the queens had given her after her divorce from Dominique had been her haven these past three years. The whole room was a rich mahogany, with sculpted wooden trees lining the walls. They stretched up to the ceiling to create a canopy of carved wooden branches and leaves.

The warm wood of the room was accented by plush furniture in shades of green. A fireplace dominated one wall of the room, while a floor-to-ceiling bookcase covered the opposite wall. A massive rug in a shade of deep crimson spanned the center of the room. In one corner, a bronze door led to her marbled bathing chamber.

The queens had given her free reign to do what she wished with this space, and she had made it luxurious and comfortable. Evienne liked nice things and took joy in surrounding herselfwith objects that she had chosen for herself. After so many years of being dictated to, she made an effort to seek out things that she loved.

Evienne grabbed her bladed silver ring, slipped on her soft leather shoes, and set off.She groaned at the soreness of her muscles from yesterday’s mission. She was grateful that blood magic didn’t require extensive physical combat training, but it would be nice if her body didn’t protestquiteso loudly after a day of riding.

She was headed to the Academie du Sangviere to observe the young mages training for the upcoming tournament that would take place during the millennial celebration.

She arrived just as two young mages took positions across from each other in the training yard, and a professor signaled for the practice duel to commence. Both mages pricked their palms, calling to their magic. One summoned a translucent red shield that Sangviere were trained to use defensively, while the other launched an aggressive volley of razor-sharp darts made of red ice.

A Sangviere’s basic powers manifested in ways that were unique to each individual; sometimes a blood elemental presentation, other times weapons of blood. The possibilities were endless, but these defensive and elemental summonings were the most common applications of blood magic. Only the most advanced Sangviere could master the ancient art of Regne du Sang. Evienne had felt the call of that deeper magic after only a few months of her training; it had always felt so natural to her.

While using one’s own blood to perform the Regne du Sang to control animals was, to many, questionable enough, the Sangviere possessed a magic that was darker still. The Valsang was a forbidden art, and the only way to take control of the blood of another human being, Sangviere or not. The art of Valsang required the use of another human being’s blood—any humanblood other than the casting mage’s would do. Because of this, and the moral ambiguity of controlling other people, the use of Valsang had been outlawed in Ichorna for centuries.

Evienne’s mind wandered as she watched the duel, contemplating the moral implications of blood magic as she had many times before. She started, pulled abruptly from her thoughts, when she heard someone say her name; one of her fellow professors was asking if she would accept a student’s invitation to duel. During these practices, novices could ask to spar with anyone, but it had been a long time since a student had tried their luck with her.

She took a deep breath and stepped into the center of the courtyard. The professor who was serving as the referee let Evienne and the young Sangviere take their positions, then signaled them to begin.

Evienne gave the student a moment to make a move, and they foolishly chose to go on the offensive, summoning a dagger of pure blood and rushing at her head-on. She let the student take a few steps as she pricked her palm—in a breath, she had summoned her scarlet fire to her hand. The next moment, she launched her flames at the other mage. They were forced to dodge, dropping to roll out of the way.

Evienne tracked their motion, whirling to her right to send a stream of crimson flames toward the student where they now crouched near the ground. They summoned a barrier to deflect the flames. Evienne didn’t let up, allowing her fire to slowly consume the student’s shield.

Finally, the student yelled, “I yield!” And Evienne immediately stopped the onslaught of her blood fire. The now-humbled student was out of breath, and inclined their head to her as she passed them on her way out of the dueling ring. “Thank you, High Sangviere,” the student said reverently. Evienne smiled at them in acknowledgement.

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