The Other Side of Magic

by Ester Manzini

  The Other Side of Magic

  Ester Manzini

  Copyright © 2021 by Ester Manzini

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Kassie Metivier, Antonia Silic, and Mary Westveer

  Cover Design by Shayne Leighton

  The Parliament House

  www.parliamenthousepress.com

  To Niccolò, my partner in crime, and our spawn Gea, who shares the beginning of her existence with this book.

  To mom and dad—you can’t not thank mom and dad. They made me and loved me and always supported me.

  To Viviana, without whom I would never have started to write in a different language. To Francesca and Marco for their idea to give a chance to the English-speaking publishing world. To Chero, whose artsy skills gave me a real website.

  To Anna and Elia, my trusted beta readers. You saw this story go from “I lost my notes” to “it’s going to be an actual book!”.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  A Request…

  The Parliament House

  More From The Parliament House

  Chapter 1

  “You can do it.”

  Her mother’s voice fluttered against the shell of her ear.

  “You were trained for this. You were born for this. I believe in you.” The hands clutching her fingers shook just a little. Exaltation, of course. Not fear.

  Gaiane squeezed her eyes shut. Staring at her mother’s face, so ageless and confident, made her doubts feel twice as big and silly.

  Mother knew best. Mother knew what to do, and if she said she was ready, Gaiane needed to be. She nodded once, and the cold metal of the collar around her neck bounced against her collarbones.

  A precaution. A constant companion in the ten short years of her life. Peeking from under her lashes, Gaiane caught the faintest glimmer from the ornament. Smooth and plain, a perfect ring of polished iron keeping her magic subdued. So different from the silver and gold of her mother’s crown or her father’s brooch-- a queen and her consort.

  She couldn’t take it off.

  She hated it. Even if it was for her own good.

  Her quarters, at the top of the highest tower in Zafiria's royal palace, were crowded. The whole Council shuffled at the edge of Gaiane’s attention. From the ridge of the arched ceiling, a large chandelier glimmered with golden light globes, and the sloping sides descended in a blaze of lapis lazuli blue sky and silver stars. The immaculate walls, interrupted here and there by slender columns hosting more magical lights, were covered in bookshelves, and the spring sun shone through the great windows, glittering in gold on the bars.

  “I’m going to open the seal, my little dove. And after that, I only need you to trust me. Will you, Gaiane?”

  She could. She needed to--wanted to, because it was one thing to heed Queen Cibele Asares’ command, but having her mother caress her hands and call her by her name filled the ever gaping void in Gaiane’s heart. Gaiane would do anything to please her mother, in those rare moments she had to spare.

  * * *

  Gaiane took a deep breath and tried to focus on her hands, gently held in her mother’s grip. Golden rings sparkled on her fingers, white and silver silks embroidered in a motif of stars and butterflies on her wrists.

  She shifted into place, the soft blue carpet tickling her bare feet.

  She forced herself to swallow her dread and straighten her back, she then raised her head.

  The queen was staring at her. No, her mother, with her ivory skin and shiny black hair, with her bluebell eyes and the freckles on her nose. Gaiane could see herself in those refined features, less so in the black ring flashing under her hairline. Under the black paint, it was fading. Gaiane’s was still as black as when she was born. It was never going to change.

  “Will you, my daughter?” her mother asked again, and this time Gaiane looked her in the eye.

  “Yes,” she said. Behind the queen, the whole council was standing at a respectful distance.

  Her father was there, his graying hair and the dimple on his cheek when his lips curled in a smirk. The members of the Council held their breath at Gaiane’s consent, and the sound made her little birds uncomfortable. Chirping and fluttering around in their gilded cage, the soft little creatures mirrored Gaiane’s nervousness.

  The queen dropped her hands and got to her feet, towering above Gaiane with a triumphant smile.

  “Come, then.” A slow flick of her chin, and she moved to the large window between the bookcases behind her.

  Gaiane hesitated. Her eyes went to the only person in the room not wearing silks and jewels.

  “Your majesty, she’s still very young. You’re asking a lot of her.” Alcmena’s voice rose high and clear, with no trace of fear. Gaiane envied her strength, even if such insolence was unseemly in a servant.

  “Thank you for your concern. The House of Asares greatly appreciates your loyalty,” the queen said, her face unchanged but for a spark of steel in her eyes. Gaiane shivered in the cold implications of her mother’s words, but Alcmena stood still. Her grey hair was neatly combed back in a high bun, and her aquiline nose scrunched lightly as she bowed.“And I know your daughter, your majesty. She’s of course skilled enough for the task, but the effects on her young mind…”

  “Are we really wasting our time listening to a tutor? The siege is at a crucial point, and we need to strike now.” Her father took a step forward, and for a terrible second Gaiane feared he wanted to shove Alcmena back. Diocle, though, was a smarter man than that: he simply ignored the old lady and stared at his queen with no trace of subjection. “We need Gaiane to be ready. And I know she is.”

  In the look they exchanged Gaiane could see a world of unsaid truths, all just beyond her grasp. But before she could wonder about her parents’ behavior, the queen shook her long braids.

  “I must agree with Lord Diocle. It’s not the time for doubts, and your presence here endangers the princess’ efforts, Alcmena. Please, escort her out of the tower,” she said, and from behind the elegant crowd two guards stepped forward.

  Gaiane held her breath. Panic was clawing its way up her throat again, and her vision blurred with tears when she saw Alcmena sigh in acceptance.

  Before turning her back to the room, the woman looked at her. Her eyes sparkled, and thin lines appeared at the corner of her mouth as she smiled.

  “You can do it, my darling princess. Breathe, focus and count to ten. You’re a good child,” she said in a whisper, and Gaiane sniffed. Despite her fear, her doubts relented. Alcmena knew her: she’d taught Gaiane to read and to sing, to feel the energy run under her skin and to entwine it with the world’s weave whenever the collar was removed. She was a friend, and she believed in her.

  I need to prove to you that your teachings were not in vain.

  A wink that turned into a nervous look at the guards closing in around her, and Alcmena left. />
  The door closed with a small thud, and a nervous wave rippled the audience.

  “You grace, we need to hurry. According to our plan the troops are already…”

  “I know, Alcibiade. I didn’t ask for your report,” the queen snapped. The old counselor pressed his lips in a tight line and his nostrils flared. Gaiane almost felt sorry for him, but then her mother turned to her once more. “Gaiane, it’s time you fulfill your destiny.”

  And now, without her mentor to anchor her to reality, all Gaiane had left was the burning desire to please her mother. With a lump in her chest and tears still prickling in her eyes, she followed her mother’s gesture and reached the window. The shutters were open, and the golden bars were warm against her skin when she touched them.

  Her hands looked so small on the dark stones of the windowsill, pale and frail like the white finches tweeting in their cage. A deep breath, a silent iteration of the religious formulas to the Mother Goddess and the Spirits of the Ancients, and she looked at the vast landscape unfolding hundreds of feet under her prison. Her head spun at the sight of endless green fields and dark woods, faded mountains in the East and silver stream of a river - the Arrowhead Creek, tributary to the Itia river, running south to its estuary in the…

  Gaiane banned the relief of academic distractions. She filled her lungs with the crisp spring air as her mother’s fingertips descended on her collar.

  She tried not to look. Not to hope--it was just for the time being, just for this enterprise she was called to. A moment of freedom in her own cage.

  In the distance, the villages of Epidalio were miniatures no bigger than her toys. A sawmill here, a cluster of houses of white plaster and dark wooden beams there. The line dividing the land from her own Zafiria was clear in her mind, but not in the real world. The border was less than fifteen miles from the palace, an invisible barrier between the woods.

  She couldn’t see the queen’s soldiers. Their marks on the countryside, though, were everywhere: smoke was rising from a burned down barn, a scatter of black in the middle of the forest.

  The troops were already laying siege to Nikaia, the capital of Epidalio, and people were suffering for it.

  It was her duty to put an end to this war.

  “Everything I’ve done, everything you’ve been through, has been leading up to this,” her mother whispered to her ear. “Your birth. Your sacrifices. Your studies.”

  Gaiane let tears roll down her cheeks as the queen’s fingers worked their way around her collar. A part of her was drawn to the movement, to the subtle patterns of power unlocking the seals to her magic, mysterious beyond her understanding. She was an instrument her mother was playing, and the melody was too arcane for her to remember.

  She couldn’t look away from the fires punctuating the land.“Gaiane, my child, this is going to be different from your usual exercises. You’ll be the source of all our troops’ spells, and I want you to pour yourself entirely in this task.” A click rang through Gaiane’s bones, and the iron collar weighted differently around her neck. “You can turn Zafiria into an empire, ruled by those who rightfully deserve it. By virtue of our power. Of our sacrifices.”

  “Your majesty, I daresay we’re wasting precious time with all these encouragements.” Diocle's words rumbled across the room, and the Council murmured in outrage. The queen glared at him, but quickly returned to Gaiane.

  “Guide them. Spur them. And today they’ll call you conqueror, and not just princess.”

  Emotion swelled in her belly. Gaiane tried to steady her voice, but when the collar fell in her mother’s palms, a tiny sob bubbled from her lips.

  She turned her face to look at the queen.

  It was silly, but Gaiane needed to ask.

  “Will… it be back? After?” A quick glance at the collar, the urge to rub her throat barely controlled.

  Queen Cibele smiled, and her blue gaze shifted from Gaiane’s face to something behind her.

  “We’ll see. The better your performance, the higher the chances to leave your tower for good.”

  And it was true. It had to be true, because Gaiane trusted her mother, and a queen would never lie. Not to her daughter.

  Free from her collar and free from her prison. It was the last incentive Gaiane needed.

  She looked at the world spreading around her tower. Somewhere, beyond the screen of smoke, men and women were fighting. Dying.

  She could stop this and bring peace.

  Her heart drummed against her ribcage. Light and delicate like the fluttering of her birds’ little wings.

  She closed her eyes. The ring on her forehead burned like the sun, sending waves of energy through her nerves. Even in the darkness she could see it--lines of light under her colorless skin, bursting from her heart and melting with the golden glow covering the whole world.

  It only awaited her command. Everyone’s souls sparkled like pinpricks of sunshine, everywhere. Some were dimmer, some brighter, none as blinding as her own. A pattern of crossing lines and flashes of light covered everything. People and elements, and she was one with them.

  Gaiane searched for the soldiers. Here they were, fiery profiles against the walls of a faraway city. Nikaia, she knew it, with its thick towers and sturdy battlements. She gritted her teeth as her own men died one by one. Their arrows weren’t precise enough, their armors too frail. More people died whenever a Zafirian soldier found its mark. A red mist of fog shrouded the distant battle.

  Her power throbbed and pawed for release. Shaking in her bones and thumping in her skull, magic begged her to breathe and let it all out.

  Not yet. When I’m told so, not yet.

  Her nails chipped against the windowsill.

  “Gaiane. Go.”

  Queen Cibele's command broke the dam.

  Gaiane sunk her fingertips in the cold stones and bared her teeth.

  She was not built for restraint. Her power would never fade or diminish. For the first time, she could just let it go. She poured it all in that single, desperate outburst. To end a war, her mother had said.

  To conquer a kingdom.

  Magic flowed through her, beyond her. Down the tower and over the fields, through the trees and across the rivers. She pulled at the strings holding the world together, and her power reached the soldiers. It blended with theirs, and she felt their surprise as if it were her own.

  Steel was invulnerable now. Arrowheads pierced stone and flesh and never missed. A simple spell from the knight guiding the charge turned to a devastating outburst that tore a gate from its hinges.

  The blue tide of Gaiane’s spell washed over the land and made everything shine and cast deep shadows.

  Too clear. Too vivid.

  In the time of a quickened beat of her heart, it all came back to her. She wasn’t just lending her energy to the troops--she was living the battle with them. With every single soldier, and hundred, thousands of details cluttered her head. A gasp, and Gaiane staggered back. Blood pooling on the streets, painting the grey stones of a wall. The chorus of cries from the wounded, the dying, the survivors. Pain--so much pain she couldn’t breathe, broken bones, severed limbs, a little child face down in the mud, his head dented. The horses rolling their eyes at the sky, shattered legs and froth at their mouth.

  Death. It invaded her mind--a nameless horror draining her wits, sucking out her power.

  Colors dulled, shadows deepened, and Gaiane swayed.

  Her eyes shot open, and her voice rose to a wail. To a scream, beastly and high-pitched. It scorched her throat and crushed her lungs.

  Darkness swallowed the battle, the fields and woods, the golden bars at her window. Her mother’s face, concerned and triumphant.

  She screamed, and darkness reclaimed her.

  * * *

  ...

  * * *

  It was the pocketknife’s fault. Little more than a child’s toy, with a dull blade barely good for whittling soft pine wood. Da didn’t want her to handle anything bigger, and
she had to beg Ma to let her keep that one knife. It was small enough for her hands, at least.

  Leo squinted and adjusted herself on the thick ash branch, letting one leg dangle and her bare heel bounce against the bark. With the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she studied the chunk of durmast she’d stolen from the carpenter’s pile of scratches. He wouldn’t miss it anyway, and she needed to practice.

  Maybe it depended on the wood instead? Old Barlin had tried to explain to her that for a little girl it was better to start with something softer, keeping the hardest kinds of carving wood for another time. Leo scoffed at the thought. First, she was ten, not a little girl. She was taller than most of the kids her age, too. And second, how was she supposed to learn if all they allowed her were toys and condescension?

  She snorted. The two tight braids running from the top of her head to the base of her neck tickled her.

  She stuck the tip of her knife under a particularly stubborn knot and twisted it, dropping shavings in her lap. Too hard indeed, and with a subpar tool, too.

  If only Da weren’t that anxious…

  A bee buzzed near her ear, and Leo swatted it away with her blade. This place was good, but the bugs were a nuisance. Though -this tree was tall enough to scare most of her friends out of the idea of climbing it, and no adult would ever think a ten-year-old would dare to go that high.

  It was quiet, and nobody would come looking for her.

  “Here I can do something worth learning,” she grumbled to herself. Her mood soured instantly, and she stabbed the wood with such hostility the blade slipped and almost hit her skin.