Shadow of The Marked: Divine Series

by J. G. Maltos

  “Ulric—?” I pause, thinking hard about who he could be referring to when the realization hits me. “You mean One Ear?”

  He snorts rather loudly, although I don’t know what can be so funny. “One Ear? That’s what you call him?” He shrugs after a moment’s thought. “I suppose it’s an appropriate nickname. Especially given that you’re the one that caused that injury to begin with. What did he do exactly to deserve that?”

  Suddenly, the cracks on the wall become increasingly interesting. “He got too close and too comfortable,” I say simply.

  “Oh.”

  I shrug, feigning a calmness despite my racing heart. “That’s probably why he only comes near me after a cage fight. I hardly have any energy to do anything. He learned his lesson.” There’s a silence that follows. Ezra doesn’t know how to respond. I take this as a chance to ask my real question. “What did Titus mean back there?”

  This time he doesn’t look down at me. “You noticed that, huh?”

  “Kind of hard not to,” I mumble.

  His green eyes scan around us nonchalantly. “Something else that’s best not to involve you in just yet.”

  “But you’re a Frost?” It’s still so hard for me to believe someone from a kingdom that revered my mother nearly as much as I did can be in a place like this.

  “I am.” Is all he says.

  I rack through the questions that race through my mind, finding the right way to word them so I could get an actual answer from him. “And you’ve been here long?”

  He hesitates. “I’ve only recently been… admitted, I suppose you can say.”

  I nod. “And is there someone from every ability here?” I think back to all the powers I’ve seen here; lightning, fire, and now frost.

  He shrugs, but his shoulder tugs my arm a little too harshly that pain shoots around my wingspan. “Sorry.” He rushes out after I recompose myself.

  I waive off his apology. “This is nothing. Trust me.”

  “I don’t doubt it, unfortunately.” There’s a sadness in his tone, which causes me to raise my gaze. He stares at me longer than necessary, making me break eye contact first. I pull at the hem of my sleeve as I still feel the weight of his stare. In a span of a few hours, I’ve experienced more sympathy than I ever have in the past six years.

  A part of me welcomes the sympathy like a stranded man finding a river, but I can’t let myself grow accustomed to this. This kindness is a mere puddle in a dessert. It will run dry, and I would be left with only my miseries to drown in.

  Despite that, I can’t help the pit that settles in my stomach as I see the entrance to my cell come around the corner. I’ve forgotten how nice it is to have a conversation—a real conversation not involving torture devices. I think the last time I let myself speak like this was in a dream with voices my mind created. How pathetic. He places me on the bed and takes a hesitant step back. He looks as though he wants to say more, but his lips press down into a thin line. I stare silently into his emerald green eyes, reminded for a moment of the dark parts of the ocean my family would visit.

  He brings his lips between his teeth, pensive. He looks me straight in the eye. “Burn like a phoenix, rise from the ashes,” he whispers out ever so faintly before rushing out in a blur.

  “Wait!” I hobble toward the entrance of my cell with a speed even I didn’t know I had in me. “What does that mean!” But he’s already long gone, and my voice simply echoes around me. I slam my fist against the wall, swallowing down the whimper that threatens to escape me.

  I’m just so tired of this. I’m tired of the constant pain. I’m tired of fighting every day as if it would make any difference in the world. What’s the use of surviving this place if I will never be able to see any light that shines beyond the cracks that twist around my cell? Even now, as it seeps through into the room, it’s dimming into a night. Another day has gone by just like that. When tomorrow comes, maybe I shouldn’t fight so hard in the cage. I should just let whatever happens, happen.

  I crawl back to my bed, my hand creeping again to the necklace that hid snuggly beneath my pillow. Images of my mother come to mind and where we would be if things hadn’t gone down the way they did. I imagine it is summertime now. If that’s true or not I don’t know; it’s not like I can leave and find out. Regardless, I imagine it is summertime and we travel down to the Frost Kingdom. It was her favorite time to go. Mine, too, but that had more to do with me being a sheltered princess than anything else.

  The sun only shines three months out of the year there. The rest of the time it is cloudy skies and ice. She and I would decorate their castle with endless rows of white roses, her favorite. I had made a friend there in my first year visiting. He would chase me and pluck the roses as he went, blaming me for having missed some. My mother would only laugh and let me run free. It was a great contrast to life within the Earth Kingdom’s castle. How I longed to go back there now, to the green and blue skies before the snow settles back into its home.

  I don’t know how long I let myself drift into my dreamland. By the time I open my eyes again, the light from the outside has dimmed away. The clatter of metal vibrates through cell bars and my breath stills. Has it been that long already? Has the new day come?

  A harsh whisper shoots out around me, “Princess? Princess Althea?” I remain tense at the unfamiliar voice, feigning sleep.

  “Al?” the voice calls again and my eyes snap open at my childhood name. Only a few would ever feel comfortable enough dropping the formalities with a princess—at least back in the day.

  A silhouette nears the entrance of my cell. Shadows dance across me as the torch they are holding illuminates the hallway and I let out a gasp when I see the face to the voice.

  “Koura.” I choke back the emotion as I force out his name. For a moment, I forget where I am and rush toward him, the boy who I played with, the one I had been thinking about just before. Koura Alcozar has grown since my memory, but his hazel eyes still hold the same childlike light from years before. It is impossible to mistake him with anyone else.

  “That’s my name,” he smirks. “Don’t wear it out.” And then I remember. I’m in a cell. And he’s on the other side.

  I take a hesitant step back, betrayal building in my chest. “Why are you here?”

  He looks at me, surprised at my tone. “To get you out of here, Princess.”

  It takes me a second to register what he said but when it hits, I feel my knees want to give out from under me with relief. “Out? You mean—away from here?”

  He grips the lock hanging from the cell with a large hand, encasing it in ice before snapping it off in one swift movement. “Save you now, ask questions later.” I take another step back, this time to give Koura room as he rushes into my cell. A wave of dizziness overtakes me and my knees give out from beneath me. “Can you stand, Princess?” Worry is clear on his face when he kneels by my side.

  I give a weak nod once he helps me on my feet, pushing back the sourness I feel at hearing a title I’ve long let go of. “Maybe you should have waited a little before rescuing me. My feeding round is not for another day or so, I would have been in better shape.” I offer a cheap laugh. “It would have been a feast.”

  “Days?” His voice holds clear disgust. “But you can barely stand now!”

  “A strong prisoner is a bad prisoner.” I’m surprised I have to explain something like this to him. It seems like the most obvious thing to me. “The weak ones are easier to push around--” I trail off, not wanting to give too much detail. I try to push away from him, to stand on my own, but it seems as though the events of the day have caught up to me now. I land right back into Koura’s waiting arms that sweep me up with ease.

  “Are you—?” He gives a playful smirk. “Trying to feel my muscles right now?”

  “If only.” I brush it off but try to hide the blush that creeps up my neck. He has changed after so many years. I rest my head against his toned chest, welcoming the familiarity of someth
ing from my former life. It all is still starting to feel like a dream. “Just get me out of here.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he sprints past the cell door and speeds down the hall. Gray and dark shadows loom past us and I’m aware that I’ve never been down this side of the dungeons before. It all looks the same, but different. Eventually, Koura comes to an alarming halt and I look up to see the end of the hall with three entrances. My head rises and falls with Koura’s rapid breathing.

  “This is the last hallway,” he says, more to himself than me. “I’m sure of it.”

  I peer up at him, looking back at his hazel eyes, and for the first time, I notice the bags that have worn away beneath them. I could imagine what life looks like to him now.

  We stand there for a minute longer, and I grow tense with unease. They are bound to notice me missing sooner or later. I’m their top priority. “Koura-”

  “I got this,” he soothes, closing his eyes in concentration. A pair of feet sound from the opposite end of one of the halls. My heart speeds up. Again, I look up at Koura in fear but am surprised to find a smile decorating his lips. From the end of the hall, emerges the second surprise of the night.

  “Titus?” I all but gasp.

  “Princess!” He stops right in front of us, clear relief on his face. “He found you!” His crystal blue eyes shine with unshed tears.

  “Of course I found her.” Koura feigns a hurt look. “Now please, a little help with this last hallway please.” He shifts me under his grasp, making me wince when he hits a sore area. “I’m sorry, Princess,” he says.

  “It’s not you,” I say through clenched teeth. “It’s my ribs.”

  His shoulders tighten under my touch, “Your ribs?”

  Titus chimes in. “She was in a cage fight earlier today.” He grimaces as he looks at my bruised arms. “Down to the last survivor.”

  Koura’s eyes bore into mine. “You mean-” He takes me in, bruised body and all. His expression clouds over with a foreign emotion before pulling me tighter to his chest.

  “Save me now, ask questions later,” I repeat. “Remember?”

  He nods and looks at Titus, his emotions now clear across his face.

  Determination.

  Titus looks between Koura and I. “This way. Quickly. Your men should be at the boats as we speak.” Koura sets off into a sprint down the dim hallway. Titus's face scrunches up in determination as he picks up his pace. I see a speck of movement next to Titus as he runs. I think it’s his silhouette for a second, but there is not enough light to cast a shadow. I look once more but the shadow is gone.

  I try to stay awake long enough to make sure we come out the other side alive, but the buzzing in my head is ceaseless. My eyes close and the last thing I remember is the sweet smell of the salty ocean before the darkness overtakes me.

  Chapter 2

  Thunder and lightning. That is all I hear but it’s enough to send my heart soaring in a panic. The world sways around me and all I can imagine is the tumbling of buildings as if it was that night. My startled body shoots up from the bed and I look around the small room, ready to run at the sight of any danger. I expect to see rubble and ash, but to my surprise, all I see is the wooden walls of a ship.

  The crest of the Frost Kingdom hangs on a banner from across the room and I remember the escape I thought was a dream. Koura. His name alone calms my heavy breathing. He must be here and I must be away from the hell I thought I would die in. The wooden body of the ship groans beneath the force of the waves and although it is a loud and ear-piercing sound, it soothes the fear in my heart. But that feeling of safety disappears the moment harsh voices echo above me.

  Curiosity overwhelms the fear, and I scavenge for any piece of clothing that could warm my trembling body. My eyes catch the trunk at the foot of my bed and I carefully make my way over despite the ache in my bones. Nestled inside lay a neatly folded white jacket, thick with embroidery that resembled the Frost Kingdom emblem. Koura must have planned ahead because right next to the jacket sat a fresh pair of boots.

  Eagerly, I wrap myself in the soft jacket and nestle my feet into the shoes. Everything fits me larger than I expected, but I welcome anything that gets me out of the ragged shirt and ripped bottoms the cells were kind enough to give me.

  The world shifts underneath me as a large wave hits the side of the ship and I grip the bars of the bed that are nailed to the floor. My stomach turns from the unexpected movement of the ship. I wait until the rocking stops and rush towards the door on the opposite side of the room.

  Much to my relief, it was unlocked and I sprint up the ship's stairs and halls for higher ground. My broken ribs beg me to slow down but I stumble through the pain that jars my body. As I near the entry towards the main deck, I can hear men yelling orders against the gust of the harsh wind. I rush out from the safety of the hall into the open deck. Soldiers bearing the crystals of the Frost Kingdom’s emblem are fighting guards who I immediately recognize from the cells.

  Rain pours down as the dark sea moves in a chaotic tumble, feeding the panic that slams against my heart as I take in the fight that unfolds ahead of me. The Mirrored Sea is pitch black, making anyone wonder what lies beneath the waves. The wind howls against my ear as another wave crashes against the ship. An angry yell catches my attention and I turn to see a large soldier with dirty blond hair throwing ice shards from his hands with such agility his opponent could hardly keep up.

  The guard evades each shard by a hair, and when he catches his breath, spreads his hands wide at his sides. A purple glow crawls up from his hands through his veins and the wind starts howling around us. It whips across the ship and the Frost soldier flies across the deck and onto the rails.

  The Air guard spins his hands around him, pulling the wind with each movement and sending the rain whipping like glass around us. The sails of the ship groan as the wind hits them with full force. The cracks of splintering wood ring across the deck. The Frost soldier’s ice blue eyes widen with worry and he rushes towards the Air guard.

  His veins glow bright blue and ice crawls from the deck floor around the guard and onto his boots, holding him in place. The Air guard works quickly and with one hard punch, he sends a small gust of wind with enough force to make a crack in the ice that encased him. His palms press down at his sides and the wind twists his body into the air, out of his temporary imprisonment and scarcely escaping an ice shard the Frost soldier sent towards his chest.

  He needs help.

  I know I don’t have any abilities but that doesn’t stop me from stepping in like it was a cage fight. Those were never fair either anyway. Behind a stack of crates, I manage to find a large metal fishing rod with a sharp metal tip. This should do. I step into the chaos on the ship. The Frost soldier sees me behind the Air guard and for a moment, he freezes in place.

  I place a finger over my lips and move the fishing rod in my hands. The Frost soldier catches on quickly and gives me a small smirk that wrinkles the large scar that trails down his right eye. The Air guard is so focused on damaging the ship that he remains oblivious to our exchange.

  The soldier quickly starts throwing ice shards towards the guard, keeping him distracted enough to move him onto the defensive. The ship steadies and I move toward the guard, the tip of the rod pointed firmly out in front of me. Just as I take the last step towards him, he spins in an effort to evade another ice shard and meets me face to face.

  My breath stills for a moment as I see recognition flash across his eyes. The corner of his lip twitches with gross content before he moves to launch towards me. The Frost soldier’s arms lunge forward and the guards’ feet are again encased in a block of ice. Again, the guard smirks and moves his fist towards the ice, but I take the rod and pierce it through the gap in his armor.

  Blood sputters out of his mouth and the wind calms around us. With one hard pull, I remove the rod and the guard falls awkwardly onto the floor. Behind him, the large Frost soldier relaxes his stance and
wipes sweat from his brow.

  “That one just did not know when to give up,” he yells through the sounds of waves crashing against the ship.

  I nod as I wipe away the water that slides down my face.“It looked like you needed an extra hand.” Exhaustion settles itself around my shoulders, and it takes everything in me not to collapse then and there.

  The soldier places his large hands on his hips, taking in gulps of air. He was a huge man, with shoulders so wide I’m surprised it didn’t sink the ship. “You try going one on one with someone who can literally take your breath away. You may need the extra hand as well.”

  Koura’s yelling echoes from the top of the ship, pulling our attention away. He and a fellow soldier shoot out blankets of crystals at each fireball that threatens the ship, exploding with the collision and sending what felt like snow out into the air.

  The soldier next to me doesn’t waste any time and sprints to where Koura and the other soldier are fighting. I press a hand against my ribs as if that could silence the pain, and follow close behind.

  “Nathaniel!” Koura yells through the storm. The soldier plants his feet on the ground and whips towards him. “Steer the ship!” Panic rises at the pit of my stomach as the Frost soldier next to me rushes into the ship's deck.

  My hands grip the fishing rod tighter to hide their trembling as I near Koura. He spares me a worried glance before a fireball grazes past his shoulder. “Al! Go with Nathaniel!”

  The Mirrored Sea rages in anger and I struggle to keep my feet firm on the ground.“I can help!”

  Koura brings his forearms out in front of him, pulling up a thick wall of ice to block fireballs that were aimed at his head. He turns to me with sweaty brows and sunken eyes. He looks almost as tired as me.“They’re here for you! We need to keep you safe!” His eyes scan frantically around us, searching for a helping hand but every soldier is busy with their battles.