The air of the open courtyard laid still in anticipation. So far, between my mother and I, I had the lead by a single point. It was still anyone’s match. First to hit. Doubles counted for nothing. Hit, and don’t get hit. This was the way my mother had trained me all my life. Hit, and do not get hit.

  I took a few steps to my left along the edge of our small arena. I was using a rapier today, while my mother was using a saber. I had a slight range advantage in direct melee, but she had far better maneuverability. Every one of her parries was also a direct attack. I needed obvious openings to score points, which were hard to come by against my mother. She’d kept herself in the best shape a mother and a former guard captain could be in. It was a miracle I was anywhere near the lead, much less ahead. She had to be going easy on me.

  I looked across the courtyard. My mother was pacing to her left, her movements tracking mine. I couldn’t see her eyes behind the mask, but I could tell what they were looking at. I was doing the same. The subtle ways her wrist twitched, the distance she traveled with each step, the amount of time it would take me to reach her. I was always at a disadvantage while fighting her. She had over ten more years of experience than me, not to mention her magic. Floromancy was one of the best types of magic for area control, especially in the castle garden. It was still too cold out for most plants to grow, but trees and vines were still options. At my level in training, she could afford to exert most of her effort without hurting me too badly. I had to stay focused.

  A small shadow caught my eye. I looked up, and a small yellow butterfly was fluttering across the courtyard. A bit odd to see in late February, but certainly not unprecedented. The snow was slowly melting this time of year. Spring would be here soon. That meant I wouldn’t be freezing every night when I went to bed, which would be nice.

  I noticed something shift in my peripheral vision. I locked my eyes forward again. My mother was gone.

  Uh oh.

  I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet. I saw the glimmer of cold metal out of the corner of my eye. I swung around quickly to my left and drew my rapier up in guard. Steel bit into steel as my thinner blade met my mother’s saber. I felt ivy vines spring up from the earth and grab hold of my ankles as she pressed her advantage further, cutting around toward my right shoulder. With great effort, I ripped my right foot free and took a step back, narrowly dodging the attack. From there, I thrust toward her side as she slipped beside me, easily dodging my counterattack. Her vines grabbed ahold of my right foot again and began worming their way up my left leg, firmly locking it in place. I kicked my right foot forward to free it as my mother stumbled forward a little, regaining her composure as she swung toward me once again. I quickly sliced at the base of the vine on my left leg, then raised my rapier up to block as she dashed forward once again. This time, I leapt backward as our blades met, then swiftly thrust forward at her stomach. A large vine sprang up from the ground, grabbing hold of the rapier to protect her. I swiped the blade to the side to cut the thin ivy, and she lunged forward, cutting down near the handguard of my sword before cutting up again and attacking my wrist. Hit.

  We both held our position for a short moment. I let out my last little bit of breath, and we both returned to a normal stand.

  “That was good, Philibus,” my mother said between breaths. “Do you know why you got hit?”

  “I should’ve cut up to block your next move,” I sighed.

  “Good.” She began to peel off her mask. “I think we can take a short break for now.”

  “A break?” I asked, taking off my own mask. “We’ve only been out here for an hour.”

  “I know,” she sighed, sheathing her sword. “I’m just… tired.”

  “Did you lose sleep?” I asked.

  “A little,” she answered as she began to turn away. “No… your father and I have begun preparations for your birthday.”

  “My birthday?” I asked, putting my own sword away. “That’s almost a month away.”

  “Hence why we’re planning,” she smiled. “It’s your eighteenth. You’ll be a warlock. It’s… an important day.”

  “If I can find a patron…” I sighed.

  “I would say you’re being too picky, but… well, I haven’t been researching it.”

  “There really aren’t many who seem good,” I grumbled. “Even the best ones are petty or… jealous…”

  “Have you looked into heralds?” she asked.

  “I’m not going to get nearly as much out of a herald,” I answered.

  “No, but the contract would be more appealing, I’d imagine,” she smiled. “Heralds were human a lot more recently than the gods.”

  “Serving a herald means I’m also subservient to their god,” I sighed. “It’s… the same thing, but with a mediator.”

  “So you’re not picking a patron at all.”

  “I am! I will! I… just…”

  My mother sighed. “You’ve had your entire life, son.”

  “I didn’t start thinking about it until last year,” I answered. “It always seemed so far in the future.”

  “Well, the future is now, Philibus,” she responded. “You haven’t had any offers?”

  “No,” I answered. “Just deserters.”

  “It’s probably for the best if you don’t hear a reply from them,” she smiled. “Keep out hope, Philibus. I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”

  I took a long look at her face. Her subtle smile gave it away.

  “Please don’t tell me you referred someone to me.”

  “Alright, then. I won’t.”

  “Mother!”

  “You’ve been looking for months, son,” she sighed. “How horrible is it that your mother helps you out?”

  “Who was it?” I sighed.

  “You’ll find out,” she smiled. “In the meantime… Go take a break. We can reconvene after lunch.”

  I let out one final sigh, then turned away, wandering absently back toward the castle. Behind me, I could hear the ground shifting as my mother used her vines to pull the loosened stones back into place. After a few steps, I looked up. The courtyard, along with the rest of the castle, sat on top of a moderately high hill, and so I could see out over the snowy field that stretched out for a quarter mile before the forest subsumed the horizon. That area had been cleared and kept clear long ago to make it a bit easier to spot invaders from the south. Even now, even after all these years, the glitter of broken bronze, iron, and steel still occasionally caught my eye, the fragments left from a war before my time. Out in the cold snow, though, they were covered up such that all that remained was the pale white of virgin powder, the gentle touch of the goddess Precia’s hand. I would have liked to meet her, but… her usual contracts resulted in abandonment of possessions. A noble virtue, sure, but Theolia would need me one day. I couldn’t accept that. Plus, I don’t think I could have survived that, frankly. I liked my nice linens and fine silk, my collection of books and illustrious swords. Nature was beautiful, but the armaments of man were just a bit too useful for most to abandon. I wished that wasn’t the case, but I wasn’t willing to make that change, either.

  As I resumed my walk, I began to look upon the dragon’s breath puffing out from the corners of my lips. It wasn’t literal dragon’s breath—I was fully human as far as I knew—but rather a result of the moisture in my breath rapidly freezing. That butterfly really was odd. Normally they’d still be in Arabia or Africa this time of year. It wasn’t impossible that they’d come early, but it was certainly unusual. The courtyard had felt a little warmer than the rest of the garden, I supposed, but that was likely from internal body heat. Was winter ending early? I certainly hoped so. It was so cold out here. I frankly couldn’t stand the cold. Even in the summer I preferred warm, fresh-baked bread and nice hot baths. I could only thank the gods the capital was one of the most southern cities in Theolia. I couldn’t even imagine how cold it was on our northern coast.

  My eye caught the glimmer of something shining on the ground nearby. I looked down. There was a single pale beam of light shining down on a little patch on the ground beside the castle wall, the snow around it slowly melting. I stopped in place, then looked up and around, trying to find the source of the light. Seeing nothing, I looked down at the little patch of light again. This time, it began to slowly move along the side of the wall. I blinked a few times. It was most likely whatever god or herald my mother had talked to.

  “Hello?” I said softly, looking around the area again. “This is a private garden. We’re safe here…”

  I listened out carefully, then turned my eyes back toward the spot of light. It was waving back and forth now, beckoning me to follow.

  “Alright,” I answered under my breath. “I’ll play this little game, I suppose.”

  As my boots crunched through the short layer of snow, I watched as the patch of light moved up until a divot in the castle’s architecture, one where the area was surrounded on three sides by walls. In the shade, the little patch of light seemed far brighter than before, especially now that it had stopped.

  I looked around quickly. This was one of the few spots where guards rarely ever patrolled. This… being had clearly done their research. I’d often come to little spots like this when I was younger to get an hour or so away from the prying eyes of my caretakers.

  “Prince Philibus Jakobson…”

  The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. I looked around rapidly, trying to find the source. It was soft and feminine, more so than my mother’s, and young. I would’ve thought I was talking to someone my own age, but this being was likely a few hundred years old.

  “Yes?” I said at last.

  “You have been deemed an adequate candidate for my purposes,” she resumed. “My god and I would like you to be my warlock.”

  “Your god?” I asked. “Who do you serve?”

  “I am Adora,” she answered. “I am the herald of Larn.”

  The herald of Larn. Larn didn’t have any heralds. He was one of the youngest gods in the heavens, only two hundred years old or so. I’d ruled him out due to a lack of data. He’d never had a warlock before, and there was no record of a herald, either. Clearly the castle records weren’t up to date.

  “If I may ask,” I began, “Why do you hide yourself?”

  “Many do not know of my existence,” she explained. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

  She wanted to keep herself a secret. That didn’t seem like a good sign. She could’ve been lying to me. Perhaps she was the herald of a different god, or perhaps she wasn’t a herald at all. A powerful spellcaster could easily do what she was doing now. Perhaps this Adora was really a rogue looking to capture an all-too-naive prince as ransom. I felt my hand instinctively shift down to the hilt of my rapier.

  “I don’t believe I can trust you,” I answered her. “Show yourself, please.”

  I felt the air around me grow a little warmer. After a moment, that pinpoint of light began to grow wider and wider, and slowly I began to see something manifest before me. I saw a thick golden cloak form in the light, and the form of a woman began to fill it. She wore her hood down, and her face was sun-kissed and soft. Her hair was a luxurious natural blonde, and her eyes glistened a gorgeous pale blue. For a moment, I could have sworn I felt my heart beat a little faster. I quickly regained my composure and tightened my grip on my blade.

  “Is this better, prince?” she asked. Her voice was no longer booming, instead coming from this figure before me.

  “It is,” I admitted. “So then… what are your… ‘purposes’?”

  “Right,” she smiled. “My god, Larn, has sent me here to find a powerful warrior to serve as my warlock.”

  “A powerful warrior?”

  “Yes. As your mother explained a moment ago, I visited her last night. She recommended you take her place instead.”

  I nodded. “And you trust her judgement?”

  “You don’t?” she asked.

  I turned my head away. “She is… my mother. Of course she thinks highly of me.”

  “You seem to be near her level of combat prowess,” the herald noted. “But… I know what’s holding you back. It’s the one thing you’ve been missing your whole life.”

  I turned my eyes back toward her. “You try to tempt me?”

  “Tempt, bargain… are they not one in the same?” she smiled. “No, I… I have no ill intentions for you, prince. I only have a mission.”

  “Which is?”

  The herald took a deep breath, and I watched as that placid little smirk of hers faded away.

  “Larn needs you to go to Egypt and destroy his temple.”

  I blinked a few times.

  “You said… Egypt?”

  “Yes.”

  “As in… across the sea?”

  “Yes, prince. The Egypt. Specifically the city of Kyra.”

  I turned myself away, absorbing what she’d told me.

  “That’s… far.”

  “It is.”

  “How would I get there?”

  “On foot, I presume.”

  I chuckled a little, turning my eyes away. “On foot… to Egypt…” I looked at her again. “And you need… me?”

  “I need a warrior,” she explained. “A capable warrior. One who will make the journey and be able to use my magic to its fullest extent.”

  “And you pick the prince from Theolia with no magical experience?”

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  “You sound like you don’t want this deal,” she smirked.

  “I’m just… confused,” I admitted. “Why not pick someone closer? Why not pick a strong magician?”

  The herald sighed. “Like I said… your mother was my first choice. You are her most trained disciple. It only makes sense to take you in her place.”

  I took a deep breath. “Alright, then. What are the terms of your contract?”

  “You’re accepting?!” she asked excitedly.

  “I’m considering,” I replied. “What else would you have me do, and what would I receive in return?”

  “Well,” she began, “First of all, you would be subservient to both Larn and I, so… you’d need to accomplish any task we ask of you.”

  “That’s… vague,” I sighed.

  “We don’t plan on asking much,” she answered me. “This mission is really all that we require. After, keeping my magic is your reward for your troubles.”

  “And what sort of magic would that be?”

  “The sun,” she explained. “Heating things, manipulating light… those sorts of things.”

  I nodded a little. “There’s more, though.”

  The herald looked at me with a slightly confused expression. “I… don’t have much else to offer…”

  “No, I mean… That’s it? That’s… all you want.”

  She nodded. “You get magic, Larn gets his old temple destroyed. No reason to complicate things!”

  I stared at her for a moment. This was too good to be true. I had to believe she was lying about something. There had to be something else, some kind of catch here. There was no possible way that was the only thing they wanted. And to give someone such powerful magic for such a simple endeavor? I mean, this “temple” was just a building. How hard could destroying it be?

  No, she had to be tricking me. She was already making me suspicious when she said I couldn’t share her existence.

  “So Larn wants me to destroy… his temple,” I asked.

  “Correct.”

  “As in, the one where his followers worship.”

  “When they were his followers, yes.”

  “Elaborate.”

  The herald took a deep breath. “Thoen, the god of the moon, took over Larn’s temple, so most of Larn’s followers are now Thoen’s followers.”

  “Took it over?”

  “It was a coup,” she continued. “He approached the high priests of the temple himself and offered them something to change their allegiance.”

  “Something?”

  “Larn hasn’t told me what,” she admitted. “I’m a very recent herald, so my memory of the temple is still rather fuzzy…”

  Vague details. Definitely not trustworthy.

  “I… I will consider your offer,” I said at last. “It’s a lot to think about, really.”

  “You don’t trust me,” she sighed.

  “No, I-”

  “Prince,” she interrupted. “I know. You can’t hide it from me. Without magical protection… I know.”

  Oh, lovely. She could read minds, too. Only the best and most trustworthy people had that ability.

  I noticed the herald’s expression grew a little more upset. I watched as she took another long breath.

  “Listen,” she began. “Larn and I don’t have many good options here. Every other powerful warrior already has a patron or refuses one on principle. If you haven’t given me an answer by the end of the week, I’ll… look somewhere else.”

  I took a deep breath. “Alright. Thank you, Miss…”

  “Adora,” she repeated.

  “Adora.”

  I nodded, then began to turn away.

  “In the meantime,” she added.

  I turned toward her again.

  “I’ll be checking up on you regularly,” she resumed. “Just in case you have any questions before deciding.”

  “How often is ‘regularly’?” I asked.

  “It’s… regularly,” she answered. “You don’t trust me, so… we’ll need to spend a bit of time together, I suppose.”

  My immediate thought was a sarcastic “great”, but I quickly remembered the herald could read my thoughts. I apologized internally, and I noticed a patient little smile form on her face.

  “I’ll leave you alone for a few hours,” she smiled. “I’ll be back around sunset or so. Maybe then you’ll think a little more fondly of me.”

  “I hope so,” I sighed. “I’m really not trying to be rude, I… I just need some time to think.”

  “I didn’t think you were,” she replied. “Besides, I can imagine tying with your mother can be a bit frustrating.”

  “It’s an accomplishment, really,” I smiled, turning away a little. “I suppose… We’ll talk later, then.”

  The herald nodded. “I look forward to it.”

  I turned away completely, and the air began to feel a few degrees colder. I let out a long, heavy breath, and I noticed my heart had been racing. Strange. I hadn’t felt very nervous. I took a few more breaths to settle it, each one forming a bit more dragon’s breath than the last. I felt a bit of sweat on my brow grow cold and begin making my head feel sticky. While I hadn’t seemed to have a nervous reaction internally, my body apparently had. I began to wonder how nervous I’d looked to the herald. Hopefully she hadn’t gotten the wrong idea. I’d spoken confidently and respectfully, treating her like an equal. That was how I was taught to treat the commoners; surely the same rule applied to the divine as well.

  I took a few steps out of the corner and back out into the open garden. I felt… strange. There was something about this Adora that seemed to compel me in some way. Even with my guard up, I couldn’t help but feel calmer every time she spoke. It was odd. She had this aura of warmth, both literally and figuratively. She seemed so at peace, and yet still so alive at the same time. I began to wonder who she’d been before becoming a herald. It was clear her ascension was recent. But all of this was beside the point. The herald had given me an offer that seemed too good to be true. I had the rest of the afternoon to figure out what I’d do. Really I had until she got sick of me, but… well, it would’ve been rude not to at least give some thought to it and come up with some questions.

  I was snapped back to reality as I entered the shadow of my castle. The door to the inside was only a few feet away now. As I approached the door and grabbed the handle, I felt a gentle breeze blow by me. It was cold, and made me feel… uncomfortable. I’d felt that feeling dozens of times by now. It always seemed to come about a few hours before I met with my father. He always seemed to feel grumpy or upset in some way whenever I’d felt this feeling. I wondered sometimes if it was a precognition of sorts. Perhaps that was the one little piece of magic I was afforded for myself, or perhaps it was all just coincidence. Either way, I couldn’t help but feel even more unnerved this time. It was almost like it’d decided to take hold of me just that extra little bit longer, decided to rub the underside of my chin with a sinister hand and give me a slightly longer stare than before. Even thinking about it gave me chills. I hoped this wasn’t what my magic was truly like. If it was, I supposed I was grateful to my curse for suppressing it.

  After opening the door, I began to walk down the hall to the staircase at the end. The buckles of my training gear clacked and tinged with every step, the cacophony of noise reverberating off the echoey walls. It was rather empty in the castle. There were only a handful of guards dotted around the most important areas, but the main structure where I lived was devoid of activity during the afternoon. The cleaners were usually done with my usual spaces around noon, and their usual cleaning time was when I was in the middle of training with my mother. I did briefly consider going back and training with her more, but I imagined she would’ve told me we would skip out on training for the rest of the day. I’d always preferred to be outside. It was so lonely in these walls. I never really got to talk with the servants that worked here. The rare few times I saw them, it was usually with my mother or father present. They had to keep me away from other people for the most part. Ever since I got sick all those years ago, they realized one of the worst parts of my curse: the lack of healing magic. Without healing magic, there was no real way to ward off disease. There were physical remedies for some symptoms, but many of the cures have been lost to time. I had considered researching medicine myself, but ultimately it would serve very little purpose. The high education standards of Theolia meant that even the average commoner knew enough magic to patch up a minor abrasion or stave off a common cold. Only the worst of diseases ever seemed to put someone out of work, and even then it was rarely ever as bad as what I could experience.

  As I approached the stairs and began to climb, I glanced up at the walls along the narrowing stairwell. From what I knew, some families kept little trinkets of art on their walls, usually simple little sayings painted or carved into scraps of wood. It was an older tradition from the fourth king of my line, King Ruflin. His patron was the god of wood and trees, and so we had quite a few traditions based around lumber. His god was gone now, replaced by a usurper as usual. I knew very little about his god, but the legacy they left with their warlock still permeated into Theolian culture. My father would leave a legacy like that, as would I, as would my own son one day.

  Son. Sun. The deal.

  I let out a long sigh. I always seemed to have trouble keeping my mind on topic. My father was the same way sometimes. The two of us in a room could delve into so many varied topics and random trivia that accumulated in the archives. It was always helpful to know these things I supposed, though I still sometimes struggled to see the practical use of some of these things. Did I really need to know the year and date that the city’s sewage system was installed or its mail delivery service was established? And yet, I knew these things. They were fun to know. One of few things to entertain the isolated mind. Facts like those bounced around my head sometimes, making it difficult to focus. Even in swordsmanship, that was my main weakness. Focus. I never really could focus.

  Speaking of, the deal!

  I briefly chuckled to myself. I really needed to get my priorities straight. The deal. Adora’s deal. Technically Larn’s deal, really. Larn was an… enigmatic figure according to the records. Loud and boisterous, and yet patient. That was all they really said about him. He very rarely appeared to mortals, so all that was known about him was from the hearsay of the other gods and heralds. He was so distant from the inhabitants of the earth that I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d gone out of his way to send his herald. Sure, it had been to my mother first, and it was with her recommendation, but I was still his second pick. And that deal. That deal seemed too good to be true.

  I lifted myself up onto the final step of the staircase, then began to proceed to my room. The door was only a few dozen steps away now. As I moved, I began the most basic of unbuckling, loosening the straps around my wrists before grabbing the knob of my door. The room was empty, quiet save for the song of a small little bird singing just outside the window. Odd. The morning had already passed.

  As I finished taking off my armor, my eyes stayed glued onto that songbird. Its song seemed to become more and more panicked, almost like it was crying out rather than singing. Its tiny little eyes seemed to shrink back in distress, and its head suddenly jolted back before its eyes fell shut and its song finally ended. After a moment, its grip on the thin treebranch loosened, and the bird fell out of the tree.

  Something was wrong here.

  I dashed over quickly, shutting my window and locking it with the latch. I couldn’t let whatever had killed that little birdie get to me, too. I didn’t know what it was. I hadn’t seen anything. I immediately grabbed hold of my chestplate again and began putting it back on as best as I could. If the threat was physical, there was a chance I could fight it off. As I tightened the straps, my eyes darted around the room. I could feel my pulse speeding up in my neck, the subtle rush of danger preparing my body to react and fight if I had to. I drew my rapier, readied myself, and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more.

  I let out a light little sigh. It was gone. Whatever it was, it was gone. I put my sword back in its sheath slowly, still eyeing up the room around me as I did so. I felt a shiver run down my spine, the same one I’d felt downstairs, though this time it lingered. It rolled down my spine, gently buzzing each of the rigid little bones in my back before the sensation pooled in my tailbone. I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed by an intense, uncontrollable fear. I suddenly felt that same cold, tense sensation on the edge of my cheek. I could feel myself squirming, sweat beginning to pool on my brow. My mind screamed commands to my arms and legs, but they were as mobile as concrete pillars. My left ear twitched.

  “Call for me,” I heard the faintest of voices whisper.

  I couldn’t move my lips. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. I didn’t know who it was. Surely it wasn’t Adora. If it was, I was definitely not going to be taking that deal.

  “You’re almost old enough for me,” that voice resumed. I heard a sense of sinister joy in her voice. “On that day, you will call for me. You will, because you will have no one else.”

  Suddenly, that cold, paralyzing sensation fell away. I stumbled forward, feeling my heart racing again and the air rushing into my now-quickened lungs. Another second, and I might’ve started to run out of air. My arms and legs were shaking, quivering like blobs of pudding. Whatever had just grabbed hold of me was clearly some sort of evil force. I walked carefully over to my sofa and fell onto its cushions, letting myself breathe a long sigh of relief and begin processing what had just happened.

  Two encounters. I’d encountered the divine twice today. Once was a mostly positive, constructive experience, while the other had left me rattled. That second one… It hadn’t been Adora. Her voice wasn’t the same. Not only that, but Adora was so warm. This other thing had frozen me at her frigid touch, and seemed to be loving that she’d done so.

  I was not going to call her name, even if I would’ve known who that was.

  Perhaps it was a god of the winter or the snow. Then again, I’d felt that presence before, and I’d never seen my father use any sort of frost-inducing magic. Then again, I’d barely even seen my father use magic whatsoever. I’d never seen him in combat before. My entire knowledge of his skill came from the testimony of others. When I was younger, I’d sometimes ask him to show me a spell, but all he’d ever do is make a pebble or a coin glow for a few moments. When I’d ask to see something else, he’d tell me anything else was too dangerous. He always seemed afraid to show me anything more. If that chilling feeling was his patron, I supposed he was probably right.

  I shook my head and began untying the straps of my chestpiece. I had to focus. The deal. Adora’s deal. First of all, I’d have to ask if what I’d just experienced was her. I’d know if she was lying. There were ways to tell. The subtle way one would squirm as they told a fib, the eyes darting around like they were in danger, their breathing suddenly speeding up to compensate for their racing heart. Thinking back on it further, I had noticed Adora’s breath was somewhat fast at first, but she was probably just nervous. If she’d been lying the whole time, her breathing wouldn’t have slowed down, her chest resuming a natural rhythm as her delicate eyes stayed fixed on mine, so serious and yet so light. I couldn’t quite get a perfect read on her. Something was missing. She was a new herald, so it was probably her memories. Heralds often lost them when they ascended, though they’d often come back in time. She looked weathered, more experienced with the world than I, and yet she was so much more optimistic, sarcastically humorous in her demeanor. She couldn’t have been much older than me, but a lack of wealth and a lifetime of stress might’ve given her that sharp contrast within, that ferocity mixed with compassion. Those eyes. I could’ve gotten lost in those eyes. A pale blue with a darker center and a subtle glow of magic poking out behind the retinas and through the very cores of her pupils. And it wasn’t just her eyes. Her skin was clear and sun-kissed, though I could see how pale she was naturally just underneath her collar. And her hair. Like golden thread on an elegant tapestry, flowing like a river though a grandiose valley. Her body seemed to have valleys, too, barely visible underneath her impeding cloak. I bet she was soft. I could’ve wagered her skin was smooth and lips moist despite the intense heat she radiated. Feeling her embrace might’ve felt like a warm bath, letting her envelop me in that gentle, intense softness and temperature.

  I blinked a few times.

  Why was I thinking like this?

  I felt my cheeks grow warm as my chestpiece clattered to the ground beside me. I stood up immediately and quickly, feeling my vision darken and my head grow light again. I needed that. As the blood returned to my brain, I felt myself thinking much clearer. I didn’t know why I was thinking like that. How crass. First of all, she was a herald. She was so much stronger than me it wasn’t even funny, just by sheer magical power alone. Second, thinking of any woman in such a way was preposterous. Sure, she was beautiful, but I’d a fair few women who were pretty, too, and I’d never even thought about them for longer than a moment or two. Arguably, they were even prettier. But… that’s all they were. Pretty. Adora was beautiful. She had something they lacked. Whatever it was, it was contorting my mind. Perhaps this temptress had put a spell over my mind. Maybe that was why I couldn’t see the signs. I was resistant to most forms of magic, but a direct attack from a herald or a god would certainly override my curse. And thirdly, it wasn’t useful to be thinking of her like that. Her elegance was not the primary factor in determining a good patron. If I only cared about beauty, there were other gods that fit better than she.

  Was she manipulating me?

  Surely not. She was fully covered save for her head, hands, and the center of her collar, and even then I couldn’t see even a single ounce of the bone, much less any further south. She had taken me to a private area, though, one away from prying eyes. If she was the herald of the sun, why had she insisted on staying in the shade? It was odd. Very odd. I had to look beyond her and only see her actions and words. She wanted me to journey to Egypt and obey her commands. Simple requests, but I didn’t like that second part. It was too vague. Even if I trusted her, which I certainly wouldn’t be, how could I know I was doing anything right? For all I knew, the temple had always been Thoen’s, and Larn was trying to usurp him. It was a possibility. I didn’t have any data on Larn. He had no history, no record other than mentions by other gods. And it was so unprecedented to ask a mortal to become a warlock. Usually, it was the other way around. But they want anything other than for the temple to be destroyed. They’d leave me alone with the power I’d been given once the job was complete. If I did it quickly, I’d have everything I’d ever want. I could come home, find a wife, and become king once my father passed.

  Or would I?

  Not if I wanted Adora.

  I shook my head again and began wandering over to the rest of my training gear, scooping it up and bringing it back to the couch, where I sat back down and began stuffing it back into its bag. It was unhealthy to think like this. It was weird. It was perverted. No man should think of a woman so… lustfully. Was it lust? Was it lustful to think she was beautiful, to think of her face, her skin, her eyes, her hair, all these things she showed me, all these things anyone might look upon? Perhaps. But it was hard. By the gods, it was hard. And she could read my thoughts. I began to wonder if she could read my memories, too. Most likely. She would be able to see what I was thinking of her now, what I was feeling, what I wish we could do together.

  “Stop it,” I mumbled under my breath. “Stop, Philibus.”

  But I couldn’t stop. My heart had already decided. She’d already taken that. By now, my emotions and irrational feelings were hers. There was still so much to ask. There was still so much I needed to know. But I needed to think about something else. I couldn’t separate the rationality from her beauty.

  I glanced over at my desk, then slowly stood, every step heavy as I marched over to the chair and sat down, picking up my pen, finding a blank page, and dipping my feathery utensil in a vial of ink. I knew what I could do. I could write a poem. A few sonnets would take my mind off of her. If I could release those thoughts from my mind by the written word, surely I could think more clearly.

  And so I began to write, allowing myself to pour over the desk and scratch down line after line exalting the elegance of Adora, the herald of Larn. Every word was more meaningful than anything I’d even written, every letter more purposefully drawn, every drop of ink more important than any other spent. It was my messiest handwriting yet, but it was the best piece of work I’d ever made. I was fooling myself. This would only make me more obsessed. But it was cathartic. It felt good. I still had so many questions, but I had to get over that experience first.

  I could only hope that I could.