Free Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) by Laura J Underwood

being Fenelon’s to command.
    “Oh, don’t go all gloomy-faced on me, Alaric,” Fenelon said. “It won’t be so bad. They could have assigned your mage training to someone worse…like Turlough himself.”
    Alaric had to agree with that. With a sigh, he pushed back the covers. Fenelon moved towards the windows, giving Alaric enough privacy to tie on his breechclout and slip into his trews.

EIGHT
     
    Scant moments later, Alaric was dressed and being stuffed with a rather fine fare before he was hauled around the opulent little keep that sat atop a tor. From its walls, he saw the road that snaked back and forth and disappeared into the treeline below. Impressive, he had to admit, and certainly brighter than Dun Gealach, and more pleasant to behold now that his head had cleared.
    “I’ll likely bring you here for lessons,” Fenelon said. “We’ll have more privacy…”
    “And be less likely to upset Turlough over what I’m being taught?” Alaric suggested with a suspicious sidelong glance at Fenelon.
    “Well, that too,” Fenelon agreed with a smirk.
    “And why is that?”
    “Because my great uncle several times removed and I don’t always agree on the ways of magic.”
    “Why am I not surprised to hear that?” Alaric said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “Would it also have anything to do with why you failed to mention you were the one who cloaked the gatespell that likely let the demon in?”
    Fenelon smiled. “Well, yes. But I have my reasons.”
    “Considering those reasons nearly got me sundered and publicly beheaded, would you mind sharing them?”
    “You’ve already heard what Turlough said about me and fire magic,” Fenelon said wearily. “The old goat would jump on any excuse to ban me from Dun Gealach forever. I simply refuse to give him that opportunity.”
    “You’ve been caught using the gate spell in forbidden parts of Dun Gealach before, haven’t you?”
    Fenelon smiled. “You know, you’re very astute, Alaric. I like that.”
    Alaric frowned to indicate his own displeasure.
    “Yes, I have been caught more times than I can count on fingers and toes,” Fenelon said. “And there have been other incidents as well. Turlough has no imagination when it comes to the uses of magic. He thinks it should be straightforward and secretive. In the old days, we were respected for what we could do for mortal kind. Now folks blame a lot of the ills of this world on mageborn. There are some who make a religion out of that, and Turlough is angry at them because our present High King will not banish them. So Turlough takes his frustrations out on me, making threats of banishing and the like. Truth is, he fears me because I’m more powerful than he’ll ever be, and there are those who think I should be the one to replace him as High Mage when his time comes to retire.”
    “He doesn’t consider you worthy?” Alaric said.
    “He doesn’t think anyone is worthy of his post,” Fenelon said. “He was not first choice for the position, you see. One of my direct ancestors was, and what always infuriated Turlough was that my grandfather many times removed actually turned down the post, saying it was foolish for mageborn to have a hierarchy akin to kingship and be ruled by one of their own. Turlough does believe a mageborn should rule not just us, but mortal kind as well. He’d give anything if there was enough mage blood in the High King’s family to make him see things this way as well. Turlough has tried more than once to marry a mageborn into the Keltoran crown in hopes it would become fashionable. And Turlough uses his post as a mantle of protection for himself. He thinks it puts him above the laws of mortalborn.”
    Alaric looked out at the trees that were dancing in the wind. Marda had often whispered Turlough had a dark, ambitious side to his nature, but Alaric assumed it was because she was not as powerful and felt the High Mage looked down on her for that. Now, he