On shaky feet, the second guard rose and grabbed his useless lump of metal. Kull crossed his arms. “No need for panic.”
“He broke my weapon.”
“An accident.”
“He lies!”
Both guards turned to the magistrate. Unfazed, he peered at the broken doors. His face remained a mask of calm intelligence. He didn’t react to the broken weapon. Instead, he seemed more intent on studying the shattered wood.
When he turned to me, I couldn’t help but flinch.
“Hello, Olive,” he said in his silken voice. “You did this?”
I plastered a smile to my face. Might as well get this over with. “Yes, Father, I did.”
Chapter 10
I’d never questioned why my mom fell for my dad. My father, Magistrate Pozin III, had an ageless face of sharp angles and porcelain skin. His thick black hair never seemed out of place. He wore it in a long ponytail down his back, held together with leather cords. His velvety blue robes accentuated his lean, elven frame. Magic radiated around him like a magnetic field. He was magistrate for a reason—not because of a family pedigree or money. He’d fought for it. He’d earned it.
I’d beaten my fair share of opponents in magical duels, but he would never be one of them.
My father cleared his throat as he studied the chunks of wood littering the floor. “You used elemental magic?”
“Yes.”
“And broke the door down?”
“Yes.”
He plucked a piece of wood from the floor. “Why not just use a naming spell? You could have opened the doors without breaking them down.”
“Guess I wanted to make an entrance.”
He studied me with unflinching, almond-shaped eyes. “I see.”
Interesting introduction. No, hey how are you? Haven’t seen you in twelve years. How’s your mother? How’s your life? We got straight to the point, like business associates. As a child, he’d visited me often enough, but he’d always seemed distant, as if it were his duty to visit me and nothing else. I wondered if that was how he thought of me now, as a professional obligation.
He took a step back to survey the doorframe.
The elf guard with the ruined gun spoke up. “Magistrate Pozin, if you will—I’d like to lodge a formal complaint against the Wult prince—”
“Not now, Echorion.”
“But sir, he attacked—”
“Not now,” my father repeated with steel in his voice. He turned to me. “Did you learn this spell in Earth Kingdom?”
“Not exactly. I use a mixture of Native American and dragon magic.”
“Hmm.” He plucked up another splinter and studied it. “You do not favor elven magic?”
“Not if I can help it.”
He shot me a questioning glance, looking as if he wanted to question me further, but then he thought better of it. “Have you been in the city long?”
“No. And I must leave soon.”
“That’s regretful.”
“Regretful?”
“I will give your regards to the assembly. They have always looked forward to meeting you, and I am sure they had hoped you would join us for dinner. But they are understanding. Under the circumstances.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience them.” Nothing had changed. The same song and dance we’d been playing at for years—you stay out of my life, and I’ll stay out of yours.
Blue magic hummed beneath his fingertips as he ran his fingers over the doorframe. The guards stared at the magistrate, though they kept their weapons pointed at Kull. They’d wanted an intervention from my father, but he seemed more concerned about the door.
“You might find it interesting to know that the door had been warded. You shouldn’t have been able to touch it,” my father said.
Warded? I hadn’t detected any magic. I should have felt something, unless…
“You created the ward?”
He nodded.
Wow. Guess he’d been practicing. All practitioners left behind a trace of magic. I couldn’t understand how he hadn’t.
“I suspect because of our blood relation, you were able to penetrate the ward. I see no other explanation.”
Blood. Naturally. What other explanation could there be? Except maybe that I’ve been practicing, too.
“Will you return to the city soon?” he asked.
“Not likely.”
“Very well. If you don’t mind, I have other matters to attend to.”
“Of course.”
“It was good to see you again.” His words sounded forced.
“And you.”
He dipped his head in a curt nod and stepped into the corridor. The guards followed, although they only managed to aim one functioning weapon at the prince.
My father raised his arms. Electric blue light swirled around his fingertips, and bits of wood levitated from the floor, piecing together, fitting into the doorframe. He made it look so easy. A spell like that would have taken me hours to accomplish.
With a soft whoosh, the door sealed closed. It looked perfect, as if it had never been broken.
“Cowards,” Kull muttered as he stared at the doors. “They treat us like prisoners when we should be honored guests.”
“Because you nearly killed one of them. They’re afraid of you.”
“Yes, and so they are cowards.”
King Herrick walked toward us with a sour expression. “This stops now, my son. I won’t allow you to ruin this wedding. You have done nothing but antagonize the elves since we arrived here.”
“I take great pride in doing so.”
King Herrick’s frown deepened. “Then I have no other choice but to banish you.”
“Banish me? I think not. Who will marry the princess? Rogen?” He pointed to a man who wore a thick mustache and must have weighed as much a bull seal.
Rogen chuckled with the prince’s remark, making his mustache quiver.
The king unsheathed his sword. “Enough! I will not be mocked. I order you to the farthest reaches of the Borderlands. We’ll see how the skull spirits react to your antics.”
Kull raised an eyebrow.
“I am serious. Take the human. Go to the Borderlands,” King Herrick said.
“Are you sure?” Kull asked.
“Yes! Go,” the king repeated.
“You want me to leave?”
King Herrick exhaled. He seemed much older, his wrinkles deeper. I wondered how many gray hairs could be attributed to his son. “Return in time for your marriage. Do not get killed. That is all I ask.”
“The elves will be angry.”
“They’ll be angrier if I
