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Apprentice

Loving a Mage Lord: Part 4

November 11, 2016 by Elizabeth Drake

Continued from Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, should you wish to catch up on the story. Or just jump right in.

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Post 4

His words weren’t a request. Aenwyn sucked in a breath. While she and most of the Empire knew of Mage Lord Dryden, what was said about him wasn’t complimentary. She almost regretted letting Caewyn go.

Almost. She wanted to see her friend happy more than anything.

Gathering up her courage, she walked to the edge of the dance floor then turned to face Dryden. “My apprenticeship? I’m the duchess’s companion, nothing more.”

“I can protect you from Lady Melisandra better than a half-trained wizard can, duchess or not.”

Aenwyn swallowed, and her eyes darted to the crowd.

“Come, let’s talk. I promised to be a gentleman, and I will be.” Dryden offered her his arm, and Aenwyn bit her lip but took it, forcing her hand to remain still despite the fluttering in her stomach.

The sea of guests parted before the mage lord, and he swept her outside and along the paths of the garden.

She could feel the change in him, feel him relax under her fingers as a whisper of his magic seeped through his wards. Sky magic, she was almost certain of it. Sky mages were some of the most powerful, though the title of archmage meant he’d mastered all schools of magic.

No small feat, and it was a testament to his tenacity as well as his intelligence and skill.

They were deep in the gardens when he took a deep breath and let it out. His magic flowed over her like the quiet blanket of night.

“You don’t like the crowds.”

Dryden lifted his shoulders. “Do you?”

“I’ve learned to deal with them.”

“To be Lady Escadia’s companion?”

“A companion is of little use if she never leaves her rooms.”

“And a mage of great potential is of little use if she spends her time as a companion.”

Straightening her spine, Aenwyn glared up at the haughty archmage. “How can someone as offensive as you have such serene magic?”

“The truth is seldom flattering.”  He paused then looked at her. “You can feel my magic even through my wards.”

“It leaks. Less so inside than out here. Probably because you’re back under the sky.”

“Gifted and observant. You’re squandering your potential.”

“Not all of us have the birthright to get to do as we choose.”

“A failing of a crumbling empire.”

“I do what I must.”

“Which is why you’re hiding behind Escadia. Listening to her tutors and doing her work for her.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I don’t have to.” Dryden paused beside a flowering shrub. “Can you turn the blossoms yellow?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know if you can.”

“I never learned that spell.”

“You are an elven wizard. Can you do it anyway?”

Aenwyn frowned, but she accepted his challenge.

Filed Under: Fiction, Loving a Mage Lord, Uncategorized Tagged With: Apprentice, Archmage, fantasy, historical romance, mage, Mage Lord, magic, Romance

Loving a Mage Lord: 3

November 4, 2016 by Elizabeth Drake

Continued from Part 1 and Part 2.

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Dryden ignored the stares as he charged into the ballroom only to find Lord Caewyn leading the red-haired woman to the dance floor.

Perhaps the young elf lord wasn’t a fool, or he recognized the benefits of Lady Escadia’s title, wealth, and connections.

The archmage doubted Caewyn could appreciate her magic.

Even now, Dryden felt the whisper of it across his flesh. More seductive than the finest courtesan and more alluring than a book of arcane secrets.

Jealousy pricked him as the red-haired elf smiled up at Caewyn. Dryden frowned. Such emotion was unworthy of an archmage, especially in response to someone he was considering as an apprentice.

Yet, there it was. Foolish to deny it, but more foolish to embrace it.

He had to tread carefully. Escadia’s mother was an archmage in her own right, and while she’d married into the Lockheart line, it was well known that she had plans for her daughter. Plans many suspected that included a royal marriage.

Dryden paid little attention to politics, but he knew the woman dancing with Caewyn deserved better than anything Melisandre had planned.

He had to learn more, to gauge if her magic was as strong as it felt.

The archmage crossed his arms and waited until the music ended before approaching Caewyn and his dance partner.

“Mage Lord Dryden,” Caewyn said and dipped his head. “My family is honored you’ve joined us this evening.”

“I thank you for the invitation.” Dryden barely glanced at Caewyn as his gaze fixed on the young woman beside the elven lord.

“Allow me to present Aenwyn Dawnsky.”

A frown creased Dryden’s brow. “Aenwyn Dawnsky? You’re not Lady Escadia?”

“She’s up there,” Aenwyn said, motioning towards a beautiful raven-haired elf that had a large circle of gentlemen around her. “Would you like me to introduce you to her?”

Caewyn stiffened, but Dryden waved away the offer. “I will leave her to Lord Caewyn and his ilk. It’s you I wish to see.”

Her hand trembled on Caewyn’s sleeve, and the young lord laid his over top of hers. “Aenwyn is needed to chaperone Lady Escadia.”

“Lady Escadia is quite capable of chaperoning herself. But if you insist, than you can introduce me to the duchess. I’m sure she’ll be less-than-pleased to spend the evening with me, but I’ll tolerate her for Aenwyn’s company.”

Aenwyn smiled up at Lord Oakenvale. “Go see Escadia, and remember what I told you.”

“I can’t leave you alone with him.”

“You can, and you will.”

“He’s an archmage.”

“I’m Escadia’s companion.” She squeezed Caewyn’s hand. “I’ve dealt with worse than him. Besides, you need to work on what we discussed.”

Caewyn frowned. “If you’re sure…”

“I am. Now please, before he draws any more attention to us.”

Caewyn glared at Dryden. “You will, of course, be a gentleman. I’ll consider it a personal offense if you’re anything less.”

Dryden’s brows winged up, but he nodded once.

Caewyn sucked in a breath, squeezed Aenwyn’s hand, then disappeared into the crowd.

Dryden stared after the elven lord a moment then up at Escadia. “Fool’s in love with her.”

“He’s not a fool,” Aenwyn said.

“I suppose she’s beautiful, wealthy, and has a modicum of magic. Not entirely a poor choice.”

“And she doesn’t care a whit what society thinks of her, can be generous to a fault, and would stand up for someone she cares about, even against an archmage.”

“Love has no place in noble marriages.”

“You sound like Escadia.”

“Perhaps she’s more intelligent than I thought.”

Aenwyn’s eyes narrowed. “Or you’re both wrong.”

“You believe in love?”

“The twin goddesses of love are just real as Ionex or Dracor. Perhaps if more elves believed in Them, we wouldn’t be faced with a rapidly declining population.”

Dryden arched a brow at her, and a smile curved his lips, one that reached his eyes. “Walk with me in the gardens. We need to discuss your apprenticeship.”

 

Filed Under: Loving a Mage Lord, Uncategorized Tagged With: Apprentice, fantasy, Fiction, historical romance, mage, Mage Lord, Romance

Loving a Mage Lord: 2

October 28, 2016 by Elizabeth Drake

It’s Friday!  As promised, here’s the next post of the story started here.

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Dryden cursed as he pushed through the crush of silk-clad guests. What had convinced him to study Duchess Escadia Lockheart in her “natural” environment?

While possession by a demon of Rashallee seemed the most logical reason, the truth was he didn’t believe Escadia was nearly as gifted in magic as the Mage Council thought. Before he accepted her as an apprentice, he needed to see her true capabilities when she didn’t know he was looking for them.

He wasn’t about to be saddled with another politically connected but unskilled apprentice. Not when the Night of Ursius was within two solar cycles.

The archmage couldn’t waste any more time with idiots and dabblers. He had to find a true wizard. Not just capable, but gifted. Someone that could help him channel and mold the raw power they’d need to complete the spell. And he had to find them soon.

Two nobles pranced past wearing ridiculous mage robes strewn with jewels and embroidery. He doubted either could cast more than a rudimentary spell, and their personal wards were lackadaisical.

Snorting in disgust, Dryden had no doubt why the Elven empire was crumbling. They were too busy playing wizard to train as one. They spent their time longing for what was lost rather than doing the hard things that were needed.

Might be heresy to even think such a thing, but Dryden knew the humans could teach his people a lot about getting things done.

He sucked in a breath, and the archmage grimaced and buried his nose in his sleeve. The thick scent of too much perfume, poorly crafted magical wards, and sweet wine was amplified by the heat of a thousand bodies.

At least Lord Oakenvale’s cavernous ballroom accommodated the crowd. From the gilded crystal chandeliers, to the rare orchids in jeweled vases, and the heavy marble floors, it was designed for ostentation and massive gatherings.

Good thing, as it appeared half the elven nobility was at the ball.

Dryden reinforced his personal wards. Even at the edge of gathering, he felt exposed.

By Ionex’s third eye, how he longed for the quiet of his tower. The birdsong. The wind. The rising and setting of the sun and moon. He couldn’t even see the stars from within the ballroom.

Elven homes looked more and more like dwarven dwellings, or even human ones, as they walled themselves off with brick and stone.

Perhaps that’s why wizards were increasingly rare. The elves were losing their connection to the flow of magic and replacing it with false promises of security after the Great Cataclysm.

A giggle to his left focused him on a debutante and her mother. One scowl had them backing away, but several other elves stared at him and started to approach. A quick teleportation spell saw him across the room and beside the wide doors that led out to the expansive gardens.

Such a raw display of magical power was gouache, perhaps, but he no longer cared. He was there for one thing, and being married off to a nitwit wasn’t it. Dryden was again reminded why he hadn’t attended a social function in decades.

Glancing back towards the receiving line, he didn’t yet see the duchess. Escadia Lockheart was known for many things, but punctuality wasn’t one of them. She was proving the rumors correct on that account, at least.

Having enough of the heat and crowds, Dryden excused himself to the gardens. None were foolish enough to stand in an archmage’s way, and he was left alone to prowl the pathways.

As he rounded an exotic tree heavy with crystalline flowers, he caught sight of the line of carriages waiting to drop off yet more guests. Dryden almost turned and walked away when he saw two women disembark from an especially elaborate conveyance. Looking closer, he realized it bore the Lockheart crest.

Pausing, he studied the young women. Their magical wards were impeccable, but even through them, he felt the thrum of her magic. It’s faint whisper a heady concoction that had his own heart beating faster.

His derision at her tardiness fell away. She was everything the Mage Council had said. Everything and more.

Filed Under: Loving a Mage Lord, Uncategorized Tagged With: Apprentice, Archmage, fantasy, Fiction, historical romance, mage, Mage Lord, magic, Romance

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