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intense stare.
“What’s wrong?”
    “S-stop moving,” Gabriel whispered, the
strength leaving his voice. He took in a shaky breath, tense with
an excitement he could not place.
    Footsteps outside the door announced Dagan,
and as the Mage pushed the door open, Gabriel felt the same energy
surge. “Halt!” he stated before Dagan could step into the room.
Dagan’s eyes went to Cordis and back to Gabriel as he tried to make
sense of the situation.
    “Should I leave?” Dagan asked after a long
pause. He took a step back, and Gabriel gasped clutching his
chest.
    Cordis launched out of his seat, and Dagan
rushed into the room as Gabriel dropped his mug, sloshing tea in a
hot spiral. The men grabbed Gabriel’s arms before his knees gave
way and eased him back into the window seat. Gabriel shut his eyes
as soon as the men started moving, feeling the rush of an energy he
could not place race over his skin and beat within his chest. He
grit his teeth against it and did not realize he was sitting until
the men stopped moving.
    “What is the matter?” Dagan asked over Cordis
who was muttering, “Are you injured? Did you hurt yourself?” As if
remembering Gabriel’s initial request, both men stopped moving when
Gabriel made no reply.
    “The energy,” Gabriel whispered, holding his
palms open on his knees as he felt it move.
    “What energy?” Cordis asked.
    “Oh, sweet stars,” Dagan breathed, his eyes
widening.
    Gabriel bolted up from the seat and turned to
the men, a look of tight resolve on his face. His body was tense
like a coiled spring.
    Cordis’s face became bright. “Kinetic
energy,” he whispered. “You can feel us moving.” His voice took on
new strength. He took a step back, and Gabriel winced as his body
responded to the movement. “Stars above, you do take after
your mother.”

Chapter 3
    Nine Years Later
    Prince Balien watched in an embarrassed but
amused silence as his cousin, Mage Prince Nolen Novacula, had yet
another screaming match with his mother, Queen of Anatoly. The long
windows of the sitting room let in the rising sun, and checkered
rooftops of Anatoly City spread out around them. He was thankful
the panes were closed, for the people in the courtyard outside
would likely hear them.
    His cousin had once been tolerable, or so
Balien convinced himself, but once his mother took the throne, he
became drunk with the power of commanding her armies. Nolen was
used to getting what he wanted. He wore the finest brocades, drank
the best vintages, and wooed—or coerced when necessary—the
loveliest ladies to his bed. It was often too necessary. Balien
took a draught of his wine to wash the thought away. The Prince had
a sadistic reputation, and Balien had seen many maids leave his
rooms with bruises or worse.
    Balien folded his hands across his
red-and-gold coat and suppressed a smile. ‘Just wait until Robyn
takes the throne,’ he thought. ‘She will not put up with
your nonsense.’ Months off yet, it was still too long—and that
was only if she was found in time. No one heard from his sister in
nearly two years, and those who knew she was missing grew more
concerned by the day.
    “My Mage affairs are of no concern to you.
You think after all these years of inquiry, you would give it up,
but I am continuously plagued by your incessant questioning,” Nolen
snapped. Many maidens called him handsome, with thick eyelashes
surrounding deep green eyes, tightly-curled brown hair tied back in
a short tail, and the tall physique of a warrior. Nolen was not
terrible to look upon. Balien suppressed the gag. Anyone who truly
knew the Prince saw passed his pretty wrapping to the firebrand
temper beneath.
    A passing servant in a red tunic bowed beside
Balien with a tray of little cakes. Some had savory onions and goat
cheese, another with apples, and a third with mushrooms and
spinach. The young man proffered the apple cakes to Balien, holding
the onion and cheese furthest away from the Prince. Balien