The Faceless Mage - Kenley Davidson Page 0,1

breath, his reason for being. He would wait, and he would have his revenge.

Everyone made mistakes eventually.

Chapter 1

“I won’t do it.”

Leisa sank every bit of her considerable stubbornness into that refusal, but it made no difference.

The king didn’t even turn from the window, only shrugged beneath the concealing folds of his shabby, ill-fitting robe. “You will.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d disagreed, but it was the first time their argument had carried quite so much weight. At the conviction in his voice, Leisa’s grip on the dagger at her waist grew tighter, and the leather-bound hilt grew slick with sweat beneath her palm. Normally, she found the presence of her favorite weapon reassuring, but a dagger was useless in a battle like this one.

King Soren of Farhall had saved her life, so she couldn’t exactly stab him for making an absurd request. She just had to make him see that this was the worst idea he’d ever had.

“Your Majesty, you know I’m committed to protecting Her Highness, but what you’re asking isn’t a job for a bodyguard.”

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, so she rolled her eyes. As respectfully as possible.

“Yes, I know your daughter well, but I wasn’t born to this life. You need one of her ladies. Someone who understands politics and diplomacy. That person? It’s not me.”

The king turned away from the window to face her fully. “And yet, none of them can do what you can do.”

Leisa winced, both inside and out. By unspoken agreement, they never, ever mentioned her magic, even though it was probably the real reason she’d come to live in the palace in the first place.

No one knew where she was from. She had only vague memories of arriving in Farhall with her parents when she was about five. Not old enough to remember their journey, but old enough to recall the feelings of grief and terror and isolation when her parents disappeared one night, leaving her cold and alone with only a dagger for protection. More than old enough for the wound of their loss to become a scar—from eighteen years of wondering whether they’d left on purpose. Whether they’d chosen to abandon their daughter with strangers rather than raise her themselves.

Leisa was far from the only orphan in the capital city of Arandar, but in her case, King Soren had made the inexplicable decision to take her in. She’d grown up in the well-worn stone halls of the royal palace, as comfortable in the throne room as she was in the stables.

The weight of that debt lay heavy on her shoulders, but she wasn’t about to let the king cash it in for this. Yes, her magic was unusual, but hardly powerful or awe-inspiring, and magic alone wouldn’t be enough for what he wanted.

“Perhaps the princess’s ladies don’t have the same talents,” Leisa admitted, “but looks aren’t going to be enough. Besides, no one in Garimore has ever seen Princess Evaraine’s face. If you were to choose someone similar, who would know?”

“No.” Soren’s tone was heavy. Final. “It has to be you. This is too important.”

“And if I’m found out?” Desperation drove her forward a step as she pleaded with him to listen. “I’ve never used my magic that way before, and this isn’t just a game. You know what they do to people like me in Garimore.”

The king’s jaw hardened, and there was no trace of the smile that usually greeted her complete disregard for formality. “Those are unsubstantiated rumors. And you know what will happen to Farhall if we cannot secure this alliance.”

Leisa did know. All too well. Their resources here in the farthest human-ruled corner of Abreia were long-since depleted. They were too small, too surrounded by potential enemies. The tiniest of the five kingdoms that still existed outside Imperial rule, Farhall’s borders were being pressed on several sides, and had been crossed by hostile forces many times in the past months. From the mountains, they’d heard reports of dragon incursions, homes and woodlands burned to the ground, a horror unheard of in over three hundred years. And even the powerful, secretive night elves had begun to raid the forests to the east, seeming to believe that the king of Farhall no longer had the ability to stop them.

They were right.

Farhall had only one thing to trade for its own security—a princess of marriageable age, who was her father’s sole heir.

Conveniently, the wealthiest of the neighboring kingdoms had a younger son, who was apparently pleased