I squeeze his hand in response. “Ready,” I say, my eyelids drooping.
I wake again that night, screaming. But this time, Cavas is there. He murmurs reassurances in my ears and presses a chaste kiss to my temple. This time, when I nestle my head against his shoulder, I fall right back to sleep.
9
CAVAS
A week into my training with Gul, Subodh says we will move into the next part of the lesson: using weapons.
“Ideally, I would wait a month before attempting this, but you both have progressed more quickly than I anticipated,” Subodh explains.
Our time is also running out. Last night, before dinner, I saw another specter fade—so quickly that I thought I was dreaming until I saw the too-wide gap between the two golden bars. I had to race to find Subodh and Esther to make sure the space was covered again. For now.
“We’ll start by moving into battle stances.” Subodh glances at Gul, who has brightened up slightly, her seaglass daggers sheathed on a belt around her waist. “I see you have brought your weapons as I asked.”
“Yes,” Gul says. “But I still need a shield. And Cavas doesn’t have any weapons.”
I swallow hard. I’ve been dreaming about this moment for months. Fantasizing the numerous ways in which I could wield a spear or a sword.
So why does my heart feel like it’s going to beat right out of my chest?
“You’re right,” Subodh says. “That’s why I’ve had this brought in. Turns out the Legion didn’t melt all the weapons in the armory to make kitchen knives.”
He rises to his hind legs and strides to a small table near the altar. Plucking off the cloth covering the surface, he reveals an array of weapons, including two daggers with hilts of white jade, a sword of watered steel, a spiked Ambari mace, and two round leather shields embedded with chips of white marble.
“The leather shields are lightweight and less brittle than wood. The sangemarmar in them will help deflect most magical spells,” Subodh says. “I wasn’t sure what weapon you preferred.”
“I’m not sure myself,” I admit.
“Daggers aren’t bad,” Gul says. “They’re lightweight and easy to throw or stick into someone who gets close.”
I unclench my jaw. Despite my talk of revenge, a small part of me still wants nothing to do with magic or with this war. Yet I can no more run from it than I can from the mixed blood flowing through my veins. I’m about to pick up the daggers when something else catches my eye—a thin spear resting to the side, its tip sharpened to a fine silvery point.
Bypassing the daggers, I lift the spear. It feels strange in my hand and oddly … right.
“Interesting choice,” Subodh tells me. “A man named Javer often preferred spears in battle. Until he became a saint, of course.”
I look up with a start. “Sant Javer fought in a war?”
“Several wars. He gave it up later. He, too, was half magus.” If rajsinghas were capable of smiling, Subodh would be doing so right now at the shock on my face. “You didn’t know, did you?”
“I didn’t. Did you?” I ask Gul.
“No,” she says. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it—why both magi and non-magi worship Sant Javer?”
I say nothing. I don’t tell either of them that, while meditating for the very first time, I initially focused on various gods and goddesses, even Prophet Zaal, to access my magic. But it wasn’t until I thought of Sant Javer that I finally felt something bright and light erupting through my skin. Gul’s eyes meet mine and she gives me a small smile. I try not to think too much about last night—or how I simply followed her to her bedroom without thinking.
Oh, you were thinking. Of tangled bodies. Tangled sheets.
Of reaching into Gul’s mind to find out if she, too, feels about me the way I feel about her: a strange emotion that goes beyond admiration. Beyond magic and lust.
I was surprised by the words that spilled from my mouth last night—by the truth I heard in them. But I’d only ended up making Gul uncomfortable. Heart sinking, I push the thought away.
“Legs braced apart,” Subodh says. “Yes, that’s right. Keep your weapons raised and your eyes open.”
I force myself to breathe slowly. Ready? Gul mouths. I nod.
“Now go deep into your heads, the way you did with your eyes closed,” Subodh says. “Seek out the power that rests within.”
Within seconds, Gul’s body begins to glow, her eye sockets emitting a blinding white light. It takes me longer—much, much longer—despite focusing on Sant Javer, and even then my body is barely lit.
Why isn’t this working? I wonder. What am I doing wrong?
I suddenly understand the anger I’d seen on Gul’s face when she was taunted about her inconsistent magic—the shame that overcame her whenever words from the prophecy loomed over her head. I long for movement—to throw the spear, to lash out, to do something, though I’ve never used a weapon before, though I grew up avoiding every fight that ever broke out in the tenements.
Gul’s seaglass daggers gleam in her hands. Green light shoots from the spiral tips, the way it did inside Raj Mahal, seconds before slicing through the necks of the crown prince and his brother. But this time, instead of molding the light into a weapon, Gul focuses it into a glowing emerald sphere. Her eyes reflect the orb and its crackling energy.
Can you hear me? she asks.
Yes, I respond.
Cavas?
Saints. She still can’t hear me. Gul guesses this from my expression because soon enough, she adds: See the glowing ball? That’s a shield spell. I want you to amplify it.
After several desperate attempts at telepathy, I resort to speech: “I can’t. I don’t know how.”
“Gul, bow your head to pay your respects to the sky goddess,” Subodh growls. “Draw your magic back inside by pressing your hands to your heart. Slowly now. It will hurt.”
Gul bows her head respectfully and presses her hands against her heart. The ball of light turns nebulous like smoke, then slides back into her body in swirling ropes of light. It must hurt, the way Subodh said it would, because she’s wincing at the end, her lips taut against the pain.
Subodh turns to me, cold fury etched onto his scarred face. “What happened, boy? Why did you let her go so far?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I say tightly. “I mean, I tried to tell her that I couldn’t amplify her magic.”
“It’s my fault,” Gul says at once. “I couldn’t hear him. My mind is still … blocked somehow.”
Something shifts on Subodh’s face—for a moment he looks exhausted, resigned. Then his yellow eyes glass over, his expression neutral once more.
“No matter, we’ll try again,” he says. “This time, I want you to meditate with your eyes closed, Cavas.”
I do this—and instantly see a difference. Within seconds I’m transported to a darkened version of the temple we’re in right now. Subodh isn’t here, but I can see Gul quite clearly, glowing white with magic, her daggers in her hands. Two statues occupy the temple’s inner sanctum: the sky goddess and Sant Javer.
“Gul?” I say, my voice still hesitant.
“I can hear you!” she exclaims. “Finally! Looks like you need to have your eyes closed, huh?”
“Probably not a smart thing,” I mutter.
A dimple flashes in her right cheek. “Never mind. I am going to cast a shield spell. I want you to strengthen it.”
“Fine. But don’t blame me if nothing happens.”
I raise my spear in the air, aligning it so that my magic will meet Gul’s halfway. I pause. “What now?”
“Pour your magic out,” Gul says. “It’s there on you—I can see you glowing. Imagine yourself focusing it into a spear or an arrow if that helps. I’ll do the rest.”
I can see myself glowing, too, my skin emitting a white light that smarts my eyes. Within the brightness, though, I see something else: like a vein bubbling under my skin, a pulsing bit of light at my elbow. The first t
ime I try to touch the light physically, it scalds my fingers, nearly making me drop my spear.
“Use your mind, Cavas,” Gul says softly. “Use your mind to do the pushing.”
“All right,” I whisper.
Go, I tell the throbbing flame that now reappears on my wrist. Strengthen Gul’s magic.
For a moment, nothing happens.
“Harder,” I hear Subodh’s voice, as if from a distance. “Push yourself harder, Xerxes-putra Cavas.”
Maybe it’s because he calls me by my full name—the one that links Papa to me. Or maybe I’m simply fed up with that mocking bit of light on my arm. My muscles tense as I focus, my heart pumping so hard I’m sure I’ve popped an artery by now.
But it works.
I feel my magic move down my arm in a crawl, then a rush of burning heat, emerging in drops of gold from the tip of my spear. Small globes form, magnetically drawn to the green sphere of light floating over Gul, creating sparks wherever they join.
My head begins spinning as our magic merges. Without touching Gul, I hear the thoughts flickering through her head—attack, attack, attack—and the roar of blood in her veins. As Gul spins her daggers, focusing our combined powers in a jet of light at the table holding weapons in the corner, I grow dizzier, my knees buckling.
The next thing I know, I’m opening my eyes again—and lying on the floor, my head feeling like it’s been hit repeatedly with a hammer. Gul’s and Subodh’s faces hover above, their worried murmurs filtering through to my ears.
“Was I dreaming or did we really destroy that table?” I ask hoarsely.
“We really did it.” Gul helps me sit up, her fingers lightly checking for bumps on my skull. “Look.” She points to the space where the table holding weapons once stood—everything now lying in a pile of wooden chips. “I think it took a toll on you, combining your powers with mine.”
“Which is normal,” Subodh says, his voice revealing neither pleasure nor displeasure. “The main thing for us to work on is keeping your eyes open during battle, Cavas.”
I feel my shoulders sag. “I know.”
Ahead of me, Gul and Subodh stare at each other without a word. They’re probably holding a silent conversation with whisper magic again.
“That’s enough for today,” Subodh says. “Go eat breakfast. We can try again tomorrow.”
The morning sun glows hot as we step out of the temple. Within a moment or two, my head begins aching—though that might have more to do with how I hit it on the floor than with using magic.
“What were you talking about?” I ask Gul. “You and Subodh.”
I watch a flush creep up her cheeks and wonder if she’s going to tell me the truth. “He was reprimanding me,” she says finally. “For not using my magic properly.”
I frown. “What do you mean? You were using magic. I felt it.”
“I was.” She clenches her jaw. “But Subodh wants me to use my magic the way I did in Raj Mahal—every bit of it, no matter what the consequences are for me or you.”
“Wait. You were holding back?” I frown, puzzled. “Why?”
“You could hear my thoughts more clearly when our magic combined, couldn’t you?” Gul asks.
I hesitate before nodding.
“Well, I heard you, too.” For the first time, I note that her face looks slightly ashen, as if our combined magic took a toll on her as well. “I could feel you getting dizzy. If I had put any more power into that spell, it could have been worse than simply seeing you faint, Cavas.”
I take a deep breath. Don’t lose it, don’t lose it. “You can’t fight this war if you’re so scared of hurting me.”
“Do you want me to hurt you?” she demands. “Do you want to die at my hands before taking your revenge?”
“Javer’s b—” I break off before finishing the curse. “This isn’t about that!” Not completely, anyway. “I mean that this is your war, too, Gul! Whether you like it or not.”
My rising voice silences her. It silences me as well when I see how badly she’s shaking. Well done, fool. Now you’ve terrified her.
“Gul,” I whisper. “Gul, look at me.”
She does, but her jaw remains taut.
“We have joined powers in the past,” I remind her. “My eyes were open then, and I didn’t faint, either. The only difference was that we were touching—and now we’re trying to merge powers at a distance.”
“So you mean that proximity helps,” Gul says, frowning.
“Maybe. Look. This is new to me, too. But you can’t expect us to get everything perfect the first time. You told me that you went through two months of training with Amira before you could use death magic properly. Isn’t that right?”
The logic in this must have hit home, because she doesn’t retort.
“We’re in this together, you and I,” I say, meaning it. “No matter what happens. No matter what others say.”
I gently cup her face in my hands. I’m tempted to kiss away her frown, but I sense that now isn’t the right time. Instead, I simply rest my forehead against hers. To my relief, she doesn’t pull away.
“I won’t use magic if there’s any danger to your life,” she says. “Do you understand?”
My heart skips a beat. I imagine my spear, burning with magic and then dimming, dimming, my power gone. I imagine the Scorpion at a stone’s throw away. I imagine General Alizeh, her back turned to me, a perfect target turning into a lost opportunity—because Gul refused to wield her powers.
Do you really need Gul, though? a traitorous voice whispers in my head. Murder doesn’t need magic. Seek out the general yourself. Kill her when you get close.
I force a smile, grateful that Gul still has trouble accessing my thoughts.
“So I guess I’ll have to make sure you do use your magic,” I say out loud.
10
CAVAS
The next day, Subodh moves our lessons into the temple courtyard, where he has set up a series of wooden targets.
“How do you do it?” I ask Gul. “Keep your eyes open?”
“Well, what did you see when your eyes were closed?” she says.
“A darkened version of the temple in Tavan. You were there. So were the sky goddess and Sant Javer.”
“Imagine that with your eyes open. Daydream a little.”
I know her last suggestion is a joke, but I use it, and surprisingly, it works better than I expect. My eyes remain open, capable of seeing everything around me, but my mind is elsewhere—in an odd, empty space of calm, seeking something. A voice.
Gul’s voice, to be specific.
Are you there? I call out.
Yes, she says, her voice fainter than normal but still audible. As I focus more, I can feel other things: magic, fiercely restrained, a seething energy under my fingertips. We’re aiming for the first post, she tells me.
An attacking spell. It makes me a little nervous, combining my powers with Gul’s already deadly magic in this regard. But I breathe deep and aim for the sthirta that Subodh had talked about. At the very last second, I close my eyes very briefly. This time, I don’t faint or fall. I only feel magic unraveling from me like a chain.
Open your eyes, Gul says.
I obey and see a swirl of golden light combine with the glowing green sphere that now hangs suspended over Gul. She raises her right arm, and the sphere turns into an arrow, skewering the first wooden target, shattering the disc into chips.
I’m grinning. We did it. We did it.
But Gul must feel otherwise, because the smile she gives me in response is weak. From the cool gaze Subodh directs our way, I sense he feels the same, even though he nods and says, “Well done, Cavas. Xerxes and Harkha would be proud to see you.”
It’s strange to hear my mother’s name spoken out loud. Stranger to see her appear somewhere in the distance behind Subodh, as if summoned. She smiles at me, a mix of pride and fear on her face. As I begin turning away, I spot a blue-clad figure behind a dhulvriksh, watching us. It’
s one of the Legion’s soldiers. The woman named Roda.
Then Subodh turns his attention to Gul, and my grin fades.
“From what I’ve heard, you shouldn’t have needed a complement’s powers for that meager display, Star Warrior,” he says. “You should have reduced a single target to dust on your own. With a complement’s power combined, all three targets should have been destroyed. Esther told me that you’ve also been doing only simple demonstrations of magic for the Legion during practice. This won’t be enough for a war—and you know it.”
Gul’s jaw tightens, but she says nothing in response. It’s true, of course. Gul has done worse damage with magic on her own.
“You must get over your fear of hurting others, child.” Subodh’s voice is iron, wrapped in silk. “Remember that Cavas is strong. So are the women who’ve dedicated their lives to the Legion. Come now, let us try again.”
But no matter how many times we try, the result is much the same, sweat soaking our clothes at the end of the session.
“I’m trying, Cavas,” Gul speaks quietly so that Subodh can’t hear. “I swear, I am.”
“I know you are,” I say. As her complement, I’m acutely aware, not only of the fiery magic in her blood but also her fears and her truths. “But Subodh is right, Gul. Your heart isn’t in the spell, somehow. Something’s holding you back. It’s me, isn’t it? You’re still afraid of knocking me out.”
She says nothing.
“I can place a bale of hay nearby and try to aim for it when I fall,” I offer.
But Gul only looks more dejected at my joke. “I’m heading to breakfast,” she says. I think I see tears gleaming in her eyes before she abruptly turns away.
I let her go. It isn’t a good time to tell her that my mother and Roda witnessed her embarrassment. Subodh, I suspect, already knows about both. Those great yellow eyes of his miss no one, living or dead. Now they’re focused on the golden bars guarding Tavan and the shadows of the specters circling them.
“How much longer do we have?” I ask him once Gul is gone.
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