I may not be confident about where I came from, but I was certain about where I was heading.
I was targeted for home, not a tiara.
The rest of the morning was filled with far less nerve-wracking conversation, and I often found myself getting distracted and thinking back to Kian. When Minerva had her back turned, I slipped a few biscuits into my dress pocket so I could bring them to Kian in the morning. Once all the preparations had been completed, the two of us strapped on our cloaks and shoes, then made our way to Mr. Nevio’s home.
To my surprise, he only lived a mere five minutes away from the cottage. When Minerva stated that we had arrived, I had to look twice before I could locate the front door. Similarly to the rebels, Mr. Nevio lived in a cave, his front door more horizontal than vertical and was nearly level with the elevated ground. Twisted roots and stone supported the door’s frame against the soil, giving the door a natural camouflage that was easy for the eye to skip over.
Minerva strode over to the sunken door, knocking daintily on the wood while calling out in a sing-song voice, “Milo, darling, it’s Minerva! I brought biscuits and company!” She knocked once more, then stepped back from the door.
I stood a step behind her, keeping my hands wrapped around the woven basket handle that contained the fresh biscuits. I wasn’t great at meeting new people. As much as I hated to admit Kian was right, it was true that I wasn’t a good people-pleaser. I had always been far too honest for my own good, which was surprising considering my profession...
When the door finally opened, I had to catch myself from gaping. Mr. Nevio was nearly as short as I was and only a little less lean. He wore a tweed coat that was covered in dirt and was unraveling along the hem. His pants were in far better condition, though still dusted in soil, and he wore a tattered cap which covered his entire head. However, it wasn’t his apparel that made me stare, it was his face. His features were normal enough, but his eyes were bound with a strip of fabric. I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered if I reacted rudely, because he wouldn’t have been able to see me regardless.
Minerva didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned by his strange eye covering. Instead, she put her on dazzling smile and strode through the door. “Come along, Nixie, we don’t want to keep him waiting.” She waved for me to follow, but I remained outside for another moment.
I stared back at the blinded man, feeling a mixture of uncertainty and discomfort about the whole situation. What did Minerva mean by not keeping him waiting? He was clearly already at the door. Minerva called to me once more from inside the cavern, and I decided my question would have to wait. Mr. Nevio was still holding the door open for me, and I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression before we’d even uttered proper greetings.
As I stepped over the threshold, Mr. Nevio shut the door behind us, instantly enveloping the space in darkness. A tight pressure took hold of my chest as memories of the rebel’s cave flicked through my mind. The air in my lungs grew tighter and leaden as claustrophobia pricked at my muscles. I felt the overwhelming need to turn around and throw the door back open, but quickly remembered that Minerva’s strange neighbor stood between me and the exit. Before I could let my panic spiral any further, the soft light of a single candle flickered in front of me.
Minerva’s blood red lips and pale face lit almost ominously beneath the simple fire’s glow. She flashed me a pearly smile then extended her free hand to me. “Here, Nixie, take my hand. It can be a little tricky to maneuver through Mr. Nevio’s home the first few visits.”
My palms were slick with sweat from my bubbling nerves, so I slyly wiped my hand across my skirt before accepting her grip. Once Minerva had me in tow, she led me with ease down the corridors, advising me to watch my step as we burrowed deeper into the ground. The rocky walls shifted into coarse dirt, and soon it became apparent that we weren’t necessarily in a cave, but in a mined tunnel. My gaze darted around the various passages that were briefly lit by the candle’s glow. Most of them appeared empty, but one appeared to be a sleeping chamber, with a spring mattress and various cushions and blankets, while another passage was filled with food storage. I squinted against the dark and was able to make out barrels filed with carrots, potatoes, garlic, and other root vegetables. When we finally stopped descending, Minerva led us into a squared room fitted with a worn-out arm chair, a sofa with flattened cushions, and a hand-crafted birch tea table.
Minerva placed the candle in the center of the table, illuminating the room just enough for me to gauge the outlines of all the furniture pieces. She took the biscuit basket from my hands and placed them on the table next to the candle, positioning the basket between the light and the arm chair. Mr. Nevio sank into the seat, stiffly placing his hand on top of the chair’s arms.
Minerva took a seat on the sofa, then patted the space next to her as a signal for me to join her. I obeyed her silent request and rigidly settled onto the sofa. It was so dark that I could hardly tell where the floor met my feet. The only comfort I felt was from the petite flame that dimly lit the spooky tunnel. I kept my eyes trained on the dancing light, trying to keep my emotions calm.
“There we are,” Minerva said in cheerful satisfaction. “Alright, Milo, we’re all seated. You can remove your coverings now.”
My contorted expression passed between the smiling woman and the silent man. For an elongated moment, Mr. Nevio reached for his blindfold and slowly removed it. I watched in fearful fascination as only a simple pair of dark eyes blinked back at us through the shadows. I couldn’t distinctly make out their color under the dim light, but they didn’t appear to be out of the ordinary. After he removed the blindfold, he then shifted his hands to his cap and pulled it off with one fluid motion.
I gasped, then abruptly flung my hand over my mouth to muffle my rude outburst. Minerva chuckled sweetly at my surprise, and Mr. Nevio’s blank expression never changed despite my appalling behavior.Way to go, Nixie. You’ve already offended him.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I said tentatively, still reeling from the sight before my eyes. “Minerva never told me that you have... well, that you’re a—”
“A mage.” Mr. Nevio’s voice was stoic and emotionless as if he was entirely unfazed by my reaction.
It made complete sense why he had worn a cap now. His entire head was completely covered in glistening silver hair. It was true that mages used to be bountiful in Sybettal before its downfall, but they had become so rare since then that I had only ever seen a handful in person. Not to mention that most mages I had met were measly enchanters with only a skinny sliver of the iconic silver hair, whereas this man’s hair was almost fully saturated in the sparkling color. As I allowed my eyes to adjust to the dark, I realized he still had patches of dark hair scattered amongst the silver.
“Not only a mage...” Minerva said giddily, her blue eyes twinkling almost as bright as the candle. “Milo is a sorcerer.”
chapter thirteen
“You’re a sorcerer?” My voice came out as a mere squeal as I stared into the eyes of one of the most powerful magic users in the realms. “But I thought the last of the sorcerers died off during the fall of the kingdom?”
Mr. Nevio let out a heavy sigh, tightening his fingers around the arms of his chair. “Most of them did...” he said solemnly. “I was only seven years old when Ashbourne invaded. I should have been destroyed along with the rest of my kind, but fortunately, my gift allowed me to stay hidden.” He pointed a lazy finger toward his previously blinded eyes.
I furrowed my brows, uncertain what he was implying, then turned to Minerva, who apparently, was receiving full amusement from my confusion. “Oh, Nixie, don’t you know anything about magic?” She laughed. “Sorcerers can only use magic on themselves, meaning that their powers typically are used to enhance themselves.” She gestured at Mr. Nevio’s eyes. “Milo was gifted with powerful vision. His magic allows him to see in even the blackest dark. He can even see movement through walls. Isn’t that incredible?”
I looked over at Mr. Nevio, then cast a quick gaze around the darkened space.Well, that explains why he lives in a dungeon of dirt.If he had been hiding from Ashbourne for the last twenty years, I suppose it only made sense that he disappeared beneath the surface. With such a powerful level of magic, he must be able to see every fiber in my dress, even in this dark.
“Why do you bind your eyes then?” I couldn’t help but wonder why he went to the effort to cover his eyes when it was his hair that exposed his magic.
“I’ve overused my gift for too long,” he said flatly. “After living in the dark for so long, the light has become overwhelming to my sensitive eyes. Being a sorcerer is not like being an enchanter or caster; we cannot simply choose when we use our gift, it is constantly active. Anything as bright as a morning dawn is disorienting to me.”
I looked down at the basket Minerva had strategically placed in front of the candle. She had been trying to block the light from his chair in order to prevent his eyes from straining. My mind struggled to process this rush of new information.A sorcerer had survived the siege... Who else had survived...?I bit back a nervous gulp before my head could start swimming with princess theories again. Fortunately, Minerva piping in provided ample distraction for my fluttering brain.
“I’m happy to see you two have grown acquainted so quickly! Nixie is an absolute darling, Milo. I have no doubt you two will grow to enjoy each other’s company.” Milo brushed his gaze to me, and I felt myself shrink under Minerva’s praise. She flicked her eyes between us both, then crept a quiet smile onto her lips. “Now then... who would like a biscuit?”