Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

Chapter 43: The Aides' Story

Rowan paced the room. Up and down. Up and down. Outside, the sun fell. The yellow light runes overhead flickered to life on cue. Tylene and Dent were outside; he could hear them muttering between themselves. But their orders were to secure the room and ensure he waited for Kommora Haigh's return. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced in her office once again, the bruise beneath his eye throbbing like the ticking of time. The images were seared into his mind: Loren's soulless eyes, her sunken lips, her icy hands. The way although her chest still moved, there was no life within that body. The stillness of her skin against his, devoid of the spark of magic that accompanied any mage.

He leapt to his feet when the door swung open. Kommora strode in, her cloak soaking wet and her greying dark hair plastered to her head. Her wrinkles deepened at the sight of Rowan. She didn't pause for pleasantries. She swung off her cloak and slammed it onto the stand beside the door. Her two aides, Liore and Ash, closed the door, glancing at Tylene and Dent, who looked on with concern.

"How is--"

"What kind of behaviour was that?" Kommora snapped, making Rowan flinch. His skin burned all over and a blush seared across his cheeks. "And you call yourself a state mage? Losing your professionalism, becoming a screaming tantruming child in front of the citizens of Benover, at your own student?"

Rowan withdrew, stung. His face burned with heat akin to an erupting volcano. Kommora's dark eyes simmered with obsidian fire.

"You're lucky it was me who was first responder, you weak-ass little pipsqueak. If it had been Portendorfer or Butterworth, they'd happily suggest to the council to strip you of your mageship seeing as your judgement is evidently so questionable."

He sat in the chair, slumping against the wooden frame.

"Just..." he rasped, and then cleared his throat. "How is she? Please."

Kommora paused, a softer look on her merciless features. "Rummage is alive. Just. The healers are with her right now. God knows what's been done to her. I can't even get a proper response--"

"Ask her," Rowan spat the word out loud, his hands curling into fists. All at once, Kommora's kindly expression vanished.

"Seiren Nithercott has nothing to do with this and you'd come to the same conclusion if you used your blasted head, you short-ass."

His hand flew to the bruise Seiren had given him.

"She was the only one there! Who else--"

"How do you think she injured Rummage then? And her motive?"

Rowan hesitated. "She's been conducting highly unethical experimentations--"

"--sanctioned by the council -- and my sources say she has actually closed that down a month ago."

"And that girl is Harred's daughter."

Kommora snorted. "Your father's a banished military tyrant. Should I assume the same of you?"

Rowan bit his lip. "No."

"You're not the only one that cares about Rummage." A look Rowan had never seen before appeared on Kommora's wrinkled face. "I scoured the scene. The only magic from Nithercott was some sad semblance of burst magic that could probably set some hay alight, but nothing more."

Kommora's lip twitched.

"Are you going to calm down or continue to stamp your feet like some petulant child?"

Petulant. The same word he'd called Seiren not that long ago. Rowan sucked in a breath and held a hand to his head. A headache pounded against his skull; seeing Loren so close to death had taken away his ability to think clearly, something he'd never thought he'd do again, not after Acrise and Ebbsfleet. Seeing her so gaunt like that wiped all reasoning skills and all he could think of was the last conversation they'd had -- if only she'd returned to Benover a few days later, and stayed longer in Finberry.