The Dark Side of Power

An Unbelievable Miracle

“Show of hands, who believes in miracles?” Lanzijm announced his arrival at the office.

Awen and Sion exchanged amused glances. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you believe in miracles?”

Sion laughed, “no, not really. At least, not medically.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not following.”

Lanzijm rolled his eyes, “if you don’t believe in miracles you can’t believe that it was a miracle that Prince Rhodri recovered without medical intervention.”

Awen sat back in her chair, the book she’d been reading sitting forgotten in her lap. “Well, there was plenty of medical intervention. We did everything we could think of that wouldn’t have made him any worse.”

“Ok, but none of it worked so it doesn’t count,” Sion replied, “he didn’t get better because of anything we did.”

“Except,” Lanzijm clicked his tongue, “he did get better. So what happened to make him better?”

Shrugging, Awen leaned forward, “maybe something we used had a delayed effect, one of the spells or medicines or herbs.”

“The last few medicines we tried wouldn’t have stayed in his system for that long, they would have been long gone, so definitely not. Besides, between each remedy we cast cleansing spells so they wouldn’t react badly with each other, so definitely not delayed.”

“Magic?” Lanzijm looked at the other two.

Awen shrugged, “it’s not entirely impossible, but I’ve never heard of a healing spell having a delayed effect. Though I did completely bombard him with spells at the beginning of my shift, so maybe…”

“That was nearly thirteen hours before he started showing any signs of getting better.”

“Well, that depends. Do we class him responding to me as him getting better or just him waking up?”

Lanzijm had collapsed back into his armchair, watching Awen and Sion’s interaction. “Both.”

Awen rolled her eyes as she turned to him, “it’s one or the other.”

“Work it out for both.”

“What-”

“Consider both options,” Sion interrupted, “as though he started getting better when he started becoming almost responsive, and as though he started getting better when he woke up. Work out what could have caused him to get better in each scenario.”

Awen frowned, looking down at the book in her lap. “But either way it doesn’t make sense, didn’t we just cover that?”

“It has to,” Lanzijm growled in frustration, “otherwise, what are we left with?”

“Lanz,” she warned, “we will figure this out eventually.”

Sion looked between the two, not quite sure where he stood in their interaction. “Maybe we should start getting ready for the banquet, we’ve only an hour before we’re supposed to be there.”

Awen, still staring at Lanzijm, said, “I’ve got to go to Rhiantona; she asked me to fit her dress properly. I won’t be long.”

Breaking eye contact with her, he nodded. “Sure. See you in a bit.”

She closed the door softly behind her, leaning against it for a few seconds and closing her eyes. She knew it was just the stress getting to him, but sometimes Lanzijm could be a little too intense. Sometimes Nox got a little too close for comfort.

Rhiantona was waiting for Awen when she walked into her dressing room. “Awen! Good, I thought you’d got caught up with Lanzijm or Sion or Prince Tadhg.”

“I’m sorry I’m late, your Highness, Lanzijm wanted to talk about Rhodri again.”

She hummed, “he’s becoming obsessed again. But then, I do agree with him that it can’t have been a miracle like my father is saying.”

Awen remained silent.

“Anyway. Do you mind helping me into the dress? I sent Aurelia away so she could get ready; there’s no real reason for her to be here for this.” Rhian smiled softly, standing and dropping her silk dressing gown in a heap on the floor. Awen cringed internally but did as she was asked, fetching the dress hung on the door of the wardrobe and carefully bringing it over to Rhian.

It didn’t take long to fit the dress to Rhiantona, or to then do her hair with magic, which Awen was happy about; she’d have more time to actually prepare mentally for the banquet than she thought.

“I have a question for you, about your magic,” Rhian spoke up as Awen was finishing and getting herself ready to go.

Awen froze. “Um, ok?”

“How powerful is it really? Like I know with quite a few things it’s just a bit of magic and done, but, for example, how long could you hold a complex glamour over someone?”

“Oh, um… a complex glamour? Possibly about a day. But it depends on what other magic I had to perform while holding it steady.”

Rhian nodded, fiddling with her jewellery. “Have you ever dabbled in darker magic?”

“Your Highness… that’s not an easy question for me to answer.”

“What’s said here stays here. I won’t pass any information on to my family or anyone else here in the castle.”

Awen took a deep breath. “My mother taught me a lot of Old Magic, which is what you’re probably referring to; rituals and blood magic and curses. I left the Old Magic style when I left home, and haven’t looked back on it since, but to answer your question, yes, I have practised it.”

Rhian nodded, looking more intrigued than ever. “Were you good at it?”

“I’m not sure I understand the question,” Awen frowned, unsure where Rhian was going with this line of questioning.

“I mean, you’re an incredibly powerful witch, and I read somewhere that with Warlocks, their first magic style is their strongest. If ‘Old Magic’, as you call it, was your first style, is that also your strongest magic style?”

Looking down at the floor, Awen thought about it. “I don’t know. I’m stronger now than I used to be when I practised my mother's ways, so now… I don’t know.”

Rhian nodded. “Hmm. Ok, I’ll let you go and get ready for the banquet or we’ll both be late.”

Awen curtsied and quickly left, closing the door behind her and running as fast as she could through the halls, all the way back to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she collapsed against it, closing her eyes and trying to undo everything that had just happened in Princess Rhiantona’s room.

“Awen?” Lanz knocked on her door. “Are you ok?”

“I-” She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling of guilt. “I’m fine, just running late.”

“As usual,” he laughed and retreated back into the office.

Taking a deep breath, Awen steadied herself, quickly changing into a deep blue dress, placing a few glamours over herself so she actually looked presentable for the celebration. She emerged into the office where Lanzijm and Sion were both waiting for her in their official Castle uniforms, and the three of them made their way through the castle to the great hall. Even halfway down the hallway, they could hear the noise coming from the banquet, knights and lords and every noble family in the kingdom celebrating Prince Rhodri’s ‘miraculous’ recovery.

“Are you ready?”

The three collectively took a deep breath before Lanzijm pushed the door open and they were taken up in the chaos.

Awen immediately found a corner away from most people, clutching a goblet in one hand, the other tucked firmly behind her back, eyes glued to the floor. She was an expert in being a wallflower at these types of events, managing to stay out of the way of everyone but still being noticed by the royal family so they noted her presence - missing one of these events could mean serious consequences for her and she was doing everything already to prevent that from happening.

“Awen,” Tadhg smiled, appearing from nowhere.

“Prince Tadhg,” she curtsied, “how can I help?”

He forced a smile, “I hate these things, don’t you?” He turned to face the crowd before them. “So fake, everyone milling around and joking when really… There’s not much to talk about.”

Awen frowned, “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.”

He shrugged, “that’s ok. Most people don’t. Where are you sitting?”

Awen scanned the room, looking across the table, “at the end, over by the door. It’s generally where I sit for all of these types of things, still here but in the most junior position.”

Tadhg pulled a face. “You’d think they’d show you a little more respect considering you could raze their whole kingdom in a matter of days.”

Awen laughed, shaking her head, “So could a determined army, if they were good enough. I don’t mind it, it keeps me out of trouble. Besides, at the end I don’t really have to make small talk with people I don’t know that well, which is always a little awkward considering the fact I’m a witch.”

“You could sit with me?”

“Too close to the king, we’d only be able to make awkward small talk. We couldn’t talk like we are now, or… well, I’d rather not consider that.”

Again, he pulled a face. “Ok. How are you doing these days, anyway?”

Awen shrugged, flicking a piece of hair out of her face. “Not too bad. Lanzijm keeps making us go over Prince Rhodri’s case, but other than that I’m getting back to normality at least. Yourself?”

“I’m ok. Elyn’s getting there, but she often comes in to talk to me at stupid hours of the night because she’s so anxious about it happening again.” He smiled. “I feel like I look exhausted all the time.”

She smiled softly, “you look fine. But I can get Lanzijm to help, make Princess Elyn something to help relax her, if you or she wanted to?”

Sighing softly, he replied, “I don’t know. I’ll talk to her about it, but… Don’t say anything, but I don’t blame her; her fears aren’t entirely unfounded. As long as you don’t know what was wrong with him or how he got better, there will always be that possibility of it recurring and him not making it through.”

Awen went quiet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”

But he was interrupted by the bell signalling that it was time to sit and eat.

“Prince Tadhg,” Awen whispered, dipping into a curtsey and walking over to her seat at the table by Lanzijm.

“Awen?” Lanz whispered to her as King Emyr stood to make a speech, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, shush.” She hissed, avoiding eye contact.

Lanz hummed softly, not believing her, but didn’t say anything more as he looked at the King.

“-Some miracle, my son was brought back to us from the brink of death. To Prince Rhodri’s health!” He raised his goblet, everyone else following suit with cheers to Rhodri’s health.

“Some miracle,” Lanzijm muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Lanz,” Awen warned.

“I know, Suavis, I know.” He smiled at her. “Are you going to tell me what Prince Tadhg said to you, now?”

She turned away, poking at the food on her plate. “Maybe later. How did you know?”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, “because it’s you, Awen, and because whenever something with him happens you always retreat back into yourself. What are you afraid of?”

Awen was silent, not knowing how to answer that question without giving herself away. Of course, for Lanzijm, that was an answer in itself.

“Oh, Awen.”

“Don’t. Please.”

He sighed softly, shaking his head. “You’re going to get in trouble if-”

“Oh, believe me, I know. I’m trying to distance myself, but he doesn’t make it easy,” she hissed, taking a drink from her cup. “He’s persistent, and I can’t exactly say ‘no’ to him, he’s a Prince and I’d lose more than just my place in court.”

Knights were never a quiet party, creating more noise than you could think possible, much to Awen’s relief as she and Lanzijm fell into silence, knowing that no one would be paying them any attention with everything else going off. Awen always felt a little more comfortable at feasts and banquets that the Knights were invited to; with everyone’s attention on them thanks to their rowdiness, she was spared many of the looks and stares from everyone. It was easier to be invisible than to be stared at with disgust and contempt.

“Rhian’s dress looks incredible. How much magic did that take?” Lanzijm expertly changed the subject.

Awen’s eyes flicked over to where the Princess was sitting. “Not that much. She asked more questions than I did magic.”

“Questions?”

“I think she’s just curious about magic, especially since Prince Rhodri’s illness and recovery.”

Lanz smiled, “well, at least you’re used to those types of questions from Tadhg already.”

Awen laughed, “I suppose. I'm not sure how I’m going to field questions from both of them, though.”

Laughing, he replied, “you could just hold a conference about it where they both get to ask questions so you don’t get any repeats.”

“What, and they’d sit and take notes?” She snorted, “fat chance.”

He laughed, “I could think of worse ways of handling it.”

Awen rolled her eyes, “I’d rather not, thank you.”

“Spoilsport,” Lanz grinned.

“I know you don't think it’s a miracle,” Sion spoke up, choosing his words carefully, “but at least Prince Rhodri is better.”

Awen hummed in agreement, “rather him alive and better while we try and figure this out than already dead and have King Emyr and Princess Elyn and, well, everyone, blaming us for his death while we try and figure it out.”

“I guess.” Lanz sighed, looking over to the Prince, now the picture of health. “I just wish we knew why already. I hate not knowing what happened.”

Awen fell silent, thinking back to what Prince Tadhg had said to her moments ago.

There will always be that possibility of it recurring, and him not making it through.

He was right, she’d freely admit that, but it was difficult to deal with the doubt and the unknown of the future.

“Awen?” Sion frowned, “what’s wrong?”

“No, nothing. I was just thinking back to before, not that it helps much.” Shaking her head, she went back to eating, trying not to look suspicious.

Lanzijm looked at her for a second, before following suit. He definitely didn’t believe her, but wouldn’t say anything in front of Sion.

The three finished their meals, and soon the party was back in full swing, Awen helping clear everything with a couple of simple charms, the tables neatly stacked against the back wall so there was more space for everyone to mingle.

“I’ll be back in a bit, don’t get into any trouble, either of you.” Lanz smiled, before leaving both Awen and Sion alone in the corner.

Awen frowned, watching him disappear into the crowd. “What do you think he’s doing?”

“You worry too much,” Sion laughed in response, “you can afford to lighten up a little bit.”

Awen rolled her eyes.

Lanzijm knew the pair would be bickering already, but he wasn’t too concerned about that; he was on a mission. It didn’t take him too long to find the Prince of Oce standing around pretending to listen to one of the noblemen - Lanz had given up learning all of their names. “Prince Tadhg,” he quietly interrupted, bowing to the royal. “Sir,” He inclined his head to the nobleman.

“Lanzijm!” The nobleman grinned, and Lanz could smell the wine on his breath. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, sir, though I was wondering if I could speak with Prince Tadhg about official physician business.”

“Oh, of course, be my guest. Prince Tadhg.” He bowed to the Prince before walking away, quickly finding someone else to talk with.

“What’s wrong, Lanzijm?” Tadhg frowned, turning to the physician.

“I wonder if we could talk about Awen.” He watched his reaction closely, studying his face for any giveaway about what he might be thinking. Alas, Prince Tadhg was better at hiding his emotions than Lanz had given him credit for.

“What about her?”

Lanzijm smiled softly, looking away quickly before back at the Prince. “Well, I’ve noticed you've taken an interest in her.”

“Purely professional, I can assure you. I’m just fascinated by magic.” He smiled easily, but his hands were clasped behind his back.

“I’m sure,” Lanz forced a smile, “and I appreciate that magic can be intriguing, but I’m afraid most people here don’t share your views.”

“Meaning?”

“Prince Tadhg, have you thought about what happens if King Emyr finds out that you have a keen interest in magic - in particular Awen’s magic? Have you thought about what the consequences are?”

“What’s the worst he could do to me, for asking a few questions?” He frowned, genuinely confused. “I’m not here as his guest, I’m here as Elyn’s court.”

Lanzijm swallowed hard, looking down as he folded his hands behind his back. “I don’t mean consequences against you.”

Tadhg frowned before realisation dawned on him. “You mean consequences against Awen? What, because of my actions?”

“King Emyr or Prince Rhodri, they can’t punish you. But they can punish Awen, place the blame on her.”

“Why? We’re not even doing anything, just talking.”

“That’s enough. What seem like small, insignificant things to us can mean the world to King Emyr when it comes to Awen, simply because she’s a witch.”

“Why are they so afraid of her? Awen has served them loyally for years, and they still don’t trust her?”

“It’s not about Awen, it’s about witches. It’s about what happened here nearly a hundred years ago. Unfortunately, that can’t be undone.”

“The past can’t be changed, but the future can’t be predicted.”

“Is that an argument in favour or against witches?”

Tadhg frowned, but couldn’t answer.

“Just… be careful. You might think it’s nothing, but Awen knows it’s never just nothing. And it’s not a small price for her; it’s her life. It’s her death.”