Read Online The Wizard King by Julie Dean Smith - Free Book Online

she were a novice kitchen maid too slow at serving his dinner. His tone did not invite argument.
    Drianna scurried to the enameled desk, her vision swimming from the tears burning in her eyes, while the Sage began spewing out plans for the army of wizards that Couric and his other servants were hiring for him in western Caithe. Names of men, names of cities—most of which she could not spell—numbers, magic spells, and a host of other disjointed information. Unfortunately, Drianna’s talents did not include that of scribe, and the Sage did nothing to make her job easier; his thoughts were forever tumbling over themselves, and his sentences came out in bits and pieces, leaving her to divine his meaning.
    Drianna sniffled miserably. He remembered all these infernal names and places well enough… how could he have forgotten
her
?
    Distracted by both her injured heart and her urgency to write down everything he bade her, it took a moment for her to realize that Brandegarth had stopped talking. She glanced up warily to see him staring out of the window, listening to the sea wash upon the shore as if it murmured poetry to him.
    Then he turned back to her, his gaze piercing clear through her soul. “I have touched God, Drianna.” His voice was hushed, as if he imparted the greatest of secrets. “He has spoken to me… through His angels.”
    Drianna put down her quill. Was this true, or was it only some remnant bit of madness; a side effect of the spell? “W-what did they say?” She wasn’t sure whether the Sage was delusional or not, but she thought it best to humor him regardless.
    Brand’s expression darkened. “They warned me not to encroach upon His secrets.” Then, as soon as it had come, the darkness on his face dispersed like woodsmoke in the wind and his eyes glinted with enchantment. “Ah, but perhaps there is one secret that He has imparted to me for my valor, eh, Drianna?”
    He favored her with a wickedly sly grin. “You thought I had forgotten, didn’t you?” he said, pointing a finger at her in mock accusation. “How could I? It was the chance of obtaining this particular power that drove me to be sealed in the first place.”
    Drianna’s heart fluttered wildly, but to her surprise, she felt a powerful urge to flee his presence. Ever since they had become lovers when she was a mere girl of sixteen, Brand had promised her that if she were to become a wizard, then he would marry her—as Sage, he explained, he could not marry anyone unblessed by God. They waited for the
mekahn
to manifest in her, but they waited in vain. At twenty-four, it was still possible that she carried the potential for magic, but inwardly, Drianna knew that the chance was growing more remote with every passing day. And after eight years of waiting, Drianna realized she would gladly wait another eight years to avoid hearing the wrong thing.
    “Are you going to do it now?” she asked, half-expectant, half-terrified.
    Brand chuckled lightly. “Let us not get ahead of ourselves. I want to be sure that I have the power first, and then, once I know what to look for, I will test you.” He touched a finger to her chin, lifting it up an inch. “I shall not risk error with you, my love.”
    Then he clasped her face between his palms and kissed her hard; four months of waiting was contained in that single urgent encounter, and it left Drianna dizzy and bruised and breathless with rapture.
    With an explosion of energy, Brandegarth strode to the door in three long strides and flung it open, sending it crashing back against the wall. “Come!” he shouted over his shoulder. He dashed off at a gallop and was halfway down the corridor before Drianna could rouse herself to follow.
    Hiking up her skirts, she scrambled after him in haste, almost missing a step at the bottom of the great stair leading to the courtyard. He was traversing the yard like a man eager to pass the news of his newborn son, hurrying past the armory and bastle-house,