Page 6 of To Kill a King

Hopefully the men at the Mage College were better behaved.

The tavern’s door crashed open. She jumped and froze, her foot on the third step. Four guards appeared in the doorway, dressed in blue and silver.

The Larimars.

A strange man with a blood-red jewel held up in his hand and a black cloak with the royal seal stood among them.

All noise died as everyone tried to appear inconspicuous and not stare at the officers.

The gemstone flashed crimson, lighting up the room as though a silent thunderbolt had struck.

The kernel in Aliya’s core that was her magic writhed, as if the gem was trying to draw it out of her very essence. Her knees went weak as the nugget fluttered like a spark before an explosion. A bitter taste arose in the back of her throat as she clamped down on the power as hard as she could.

This was wrong. Magic shouldn’t behave this way.

The king’s man turned and locked eyes with her. He lifted his hand and pointed. “There!”

A barrel-chested captain by the name of Hart scanned the crowd until he saw her. “Aliya Larimar!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, Aliya Cerel!”

She froze. Dang it.

Hart bellowed, “By the authority of your husband, King Malkov Cerel, you are ordered to return with us at once.” He coughed and dropped his voice. “Your Majesty.”

Nausea roiled in her gut as heat flooded her face. Of course her father was working with Malkov to bring her back. Influence over family.

In her peripheral vision, the bartender and his buddies paled. Warmth curled through her stomach at their discomfort before her attention snapped back to the strange man holding the glowing gem in front of her.

She couldn’t run upstairs or she’d be trapped, and the soldiers would drag her right back down. The guards blocked her path to the windows and door. Her power stirred beneath her skin. Maybe an explosion by the hearth as a distraction? She took a deep breath then stopped. If she released her magic here, as unpredictable as it was, a lot of innocent bystanders would get hurt. And after changing shape twice today, she was still too dehydrated to do anything else.

One of the officers stalked over, grabbed her upper arm, and escorted her out of the tavern. She jerked a few times in his too-tight grip, but couldn’t break free. Relaxing, she allowed him to muscle her around; at least until they were outside.

Dust and pebbles ground beneath her feet. The fresh scent of pine trees replaced the smoke and body odor.

Finally—she had space to move. Turning on the guard in the middle of the darkened street, she bit his hand.

He cursed and snatched his bloodied limb away. “What the hell?”

By the Seven Gods, please work!

She released the kernel of light in her core that blossomed and flowed to her fingertips. She pointed at the four guards. Bursts of fire erupted from her palms and flew toward the men. They screamed and dove away. The fireballs exploded in their midst with an ear-splitting shriek.

Razors shredded her eardrums. She slammed her hands over her ears, then pulled them away as the cry subsided, perplexed. The ringing in her skull remained, and blood coated her fingers.

Her throat tightened as she balled up her fists and squeezed. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t her stupid magic work right for once?

She glanced at the guards, lying prone on the ground, covering their own ears. One’s cloak burst into flames and guilt sliced through her. But the men shouldn’t be permanently damaged.

Hopefully.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

She clenched her jaw and inhaled. No. They’d all made it clear whose side they were on, despite the fact that she’d grown up with most of them. Her father would buy his soldier a new uniform. No one could give her a new life.

She turned and sprinted toward the forest. In the dim lighting, she stepped into a rut and stumbled, wrenching her ankle. A sharp pain shot up her leg, matched by that in her palms as she slammed into the earth.

She cried out as the chance at freedom slipped away.

The guards were on her in an instant. Two grabbed her by the arms, hauled her up and shook her. Malkov’s man stood off to the side, his arms crossed. The light from the tavern flashed off the jewel in his hand.