Honour or Reason - Book 1# in the Burning Prince Chronicles

Chapter Twenty-Four

Aglaesha tucked the book under her arm and went to search for Conlaed. She was determined to show him what she had found. The log was sure to give them answers to whatever was happening in Maidora. It had to. Stolen kings, voices in the dark, a Guardian with dark intentions, Wraiths - it all meant something. Aglaesha was sure the log would give them some indication of what was at work within the castle walls. Magic was there and she feared it was not that of the greater good.

She hurried down the halls, charging toward Danae's sector - she knew Con had been taken there. She intended to show him the enormous book as soon as possible. If he had already left for the castle, she would question Danae. The Mistress of Mages knew something about the prince's condition that she was not telling. The glance between she and Hanrick had not been difficult to miss. If they were somehow working together... Conlaed could be in terrible danger. The thought of her fiancé falling into the hands of the Isle's most powerful Mage was sickening. Aglaesha had never heard of Madame Danae involving herself in plots of the royal court, but lately she had learnt that one could never know where someone's loyalties truly lay. It was entirely possible that the leader of the Coven had joined forces with Hanrick to restrain his new son.

Con was more powerful than he knew. Aglaesha had always known that. He had something that made him stand out. It was not his crown or his lovely face, but something deeper. It was a force that surrounded him, flowed in his blood. A blazing fire, a brilliant firework waiting to be loosed. Conlaed was a true king. He could fight in ways other than sparring. He was raised to be a good person and king for his people. Con's honour could not be tainted - it was crafted of polished gold that would never tarnish. She hated to admit it, but his father's death or disappearance had helped him grow. He had reason now. Conlaed would no longer do things for glory, but for a purpose. An honest and smart purpose. Perhaps it was why he seemed so torn - his old self that craved glory and praised chivalry contended with his new solemn identity. He was at war with himself. Maybe it was why she was so angry with him. He'd grown into something more without her.

"Stop running!" Yaslin called behind. "He will be there or the castle - don't waste your energy!"

Aglaesha chuckled and yelled back, "If Zoysia were here she would be ahead of us both by now!"

Indeed, Zoysia had taken her leave of them as soon as Aglaesha decided she would search for Con. The shifter did not say where she was going, but they all knew she was visiting Brilyn. Poor Bri. Aglaesha had almost forgotten about him. Brilyn, who she discovered had been locked in a tower only that dreary morning. Brilyn, who was still recovering from terrible inflictions. Brilyn, who they had all forgotten in a moment of haste. How easily we let our dear friend slip from our minds. Are we truly that horrid at being friends?

Still, Aglaesha knew Brilyn was terribly strong. He would hold on until they rescued him, surely? She reflected bitterly on Conlaed's plan. They could not wait until he killed Hanrick to free Bri. It wasn't fair. Who knew what pains he could be going through! If they waited too long, she dreaded to imagine what would become of their friend. She considered using magic to save him, but there always loomed the threat of the Coven being attacked for the aggressive use of magic against their own. Aglaesha would not bear the guilt of Mages dying because of her impatience. Besides, if the Guardian had imprisoned him, who knew what type of spells were trapping him within the tower?

She felt a rush of adrenaline run through her when they turned the corner to the hall leading to the Mistress's sector. Aglaesha turned her head as she ran and laughed at Yaslin, "Soon we'll all have some answers - "

Something slammed into her. The Mage gasped as she collapsed to the ground. All the breath had been knocked from her lungs. She shoved the oaf off her, scowling.