A Heart So Fierce and Broken

by Brigid Kemmerer

  I feel broken inside, and the sparks and flares of power can do nothing to heal that.

  Iisak crouches before me, balanced on the balls of his feet. “Your brother is at war with his people. We have seen that in our travels.”

  I remember Rhen’s steadfast determination to reclaim Silvermoon Harbor. “I know.”

  “Even if you were still his guardsman, the people would be resisting his rule. Have you not considered this?”

  “I have.” I think of everything Dustan has been forced to do since I left, and I imagine myself in his place. I don’t want to think that I would have turned my blade on the people of Emberfall, but I consider the oath I once swore, and I know I would have.

  I swallow again. “There are no easy choices here, Iisak.”

  “Easy,” he growls. “Choices are never easy. There are good and bad options, but the most dangerous is to not make any choice at all.”

  I shift to sit against the hearth, seeking the warmth of the stones to combat the chill Iisak adds to the air. A part of me wishes my magic weren’t so efficient. I want to feel sore and broken for a while. I sigh, then look at him. “Thank you.”

  He coils the chain in his hands, then nods and sits a short distance away. “I needed a battle as well.”

  I glance around the room, at the overturned furniture and torn draperies. “I am surprised we did not draw the guards.”

  “No sound escaped this room.”

  I blink in surprise, then smile ruefully. “Your magic?”

  “It grows stronger every day.” He pauses. “You did not call on yours.”

  “I healed myself.”

  He says nothing, but I can feel his icy judgment. I could have done more than heal myself.

  “I would share a story with you,” he finally says.

  “All right.”

  “I would prefer this story not reach the ears of Karis Luran.”

  I look at him. This reminds me of the night I shared secrets with Tycho. Maybe it was our fight, or maybe it’s our shared loathing of Karis Luran. Maybe he needs a confidant as badly as I once did. “I keep secrets well, Iisak.”

  “Our people had an aeliix,” he says. “An heir. A prince, of sorts. He did not want to rule either.” He pauses. “He resented our confinement to the ice forests. He wished to destroy our treaty with Syhl Shallow, to grant us access to the warmer skies. He claimed his birthright was a burden. Many thought he was spoiled and selfish, but much like your brother’s feelings about magic, his resistance was rooted in fear. To rule is to take on the weight of all your people, to become leader instead of follower. To become parent instead of child.” Iisak twists the links of the chain between his fingers. They’re coated in ice that melts in the heat of the fire to drip on the floor. “Our aeliix fled Iishellasa through Syhl Shallow and was never heard from again.”

  I study him. “Is this a story about you, Iisak? Did you flee your birthright?”

  “No, Your Highness.”

  I frown.

  His eyes are so dark and resigned. His voice is very quiet, barely more than a whisper. “My son did.”

  I straighten. “Your … son.”

  “I believed Karis Luran held him captive.”

  In the woods, Lia Mara asked what her mother had.

  Something quite dear to me, he said.

  I stare at him. “So that makes you …”

  “Their friist.” He smiles sadly. “Their king.” He glances at the window. “Though I have been gone far longer than I ever anticipated. I may no longer have a crown to claim.”

  This is a much bigger secret than anything Tycho shared in the loft. I suck a breath in through my teeth. “You’re to be her prisoner for a year, Iisak.”

  “I would have risked a lifetime.” The fire crackles behind me, reflecting off his eyes. “Would you not?”

  When I hesitate, he smiles. “You would. Were you a father, you would.” He pauses. “When I left Iishellasa, I tried to follow his trail, but I was captured, then traded, then sold, then gambled away.”

  “To Worwick,” I say.

  “Yes.” He pauses. “And I am not her prisoner now.” He drags those chains across his claws again. “Your Highness, I am yours.”

  I swallow. “You’re not my prisoner, Iisak.”

  “You made a bargain with Karis Luran. You cannot free me. Too much is at stake.”

  There is always too much at stake. I frown again. “How do you know she doesn’t have him?”

  “She would have demanded far more than a year.” He uncurls from the ground and looks out the window. “He could be long gone—or long dead. This was the final trail I had to follow.”

  Now I understand why he needed a battle as well.

  “I will find a way to earn your freedom,” I say.

  “I can survive a year on a chain,” he says. “You have more pressing matters, Your Highness.”

  I scowl, but he’s right. “Rhen rallied his people to drive Syhl Shallow out of Emberfall. He saved his country. It is not right to ride in and take it away from him.”

  “He lied to his people to keep hold of his throne.” He pauses. “To say nothing of whatever actions allowed his people to fall into desperation and poverty.”

  Yes. Rhen did that. I helped him do that. We had no other choice.

  “From what I can see,” says Iisak, “there are few paths here. If you accept your birthright and return to claim your throne, Karis Luran will lend her support in exchange for an alliance with Emberfall and access to Rhen’s—to your—waterways.”

  “Yes.” The fire snaps, and I draw my legs up to sit cross-legged.

  “If you deny your birthright,” Iisak continues, “you will have to flee this palace.” His eyes are hard. “Karis Luran would not allow someone with your abilities to roam unchecked. Rhen would not either. You and your people do not speak the language here, but you could be recognized in Emberfall. This would be a challenging feat for anyone.”

  “So my choice is to destroy Rhen or to allow myself to be destroyed. This is no choice at all.”

  Iisak is quiet for a moment. “Why did you swear yourself into Prince Rhen’s service?”

  “I swore to protect the Crown.” I hesitate. “To protect the line of succession. To protect the people of Emberfall.” I hesitate again, hearing the truth in my words. “To be a part of something bigger than myself.”

  “And so you have.”

  I run a hand across my jaw. So I have.

  I swore to protect the Crown, and that meant whoever was rightfully wearing it. I swore to protect King Broderick, and after his death, I swore to protect Rhen. Not just because of who he was, but because of who he represented.

  Have I been fighting against myself all this time?

  “Let us not forget,” Iisak adds, “that you have something Rhen does not.”

  I roll my eyes. “Magic.”

  “You scoff!” His wings flare, and his eyes flash. “If you would stop fighting yourself, I believe you would find your abilities manifest very powerfully indeed. If you are the last remaining magesmith, you could be more powerful than any I have ever seen. I believe what happened to Rhen and his people is a mere fraction of what you can accomplish. Why do you think Karis Luran is so eager to undermine your talents?”

  He is right. I am not sure I like it, but he is right. “As you say. I will draft the terms of an alliance with Karis Luran.” My chest feels tight. “I will make a claim for Rhen’s throne.”

  “Besides, I was not referring to magic alone.”

  “No? What else do I possess that Rhen does not?”

  He smiles that terrifying smile, then tosses the length of silver chain in my lap. “You have me.”

  I blink at him in surprise.

  “Let’s battle again,” he says, and he flexes his claws. “This time, use more than your bare hands.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  LIA MARA

  Meals are brought at regular intervals, but it seems my mother w
as serious. I am not allowed to leave my room. My guards refuse to speak with me. I have my bed and my books and my washroom, but little else. From my window, three stories high, I can see the training yards and the stables, but after catching sight of Grey walking with Nolla Verin, I stay away from the view.

  No one visits me.

  I long for the companionship of my friends, but of everyone, I miss my sister the most.

  I wish I could speak with her. I wish I could explain.

  By the third night, I’m lying in bed, staring up at the darkness, wondering if the guards would put a sword through my body if I made an effort to rush past them.

  Knowing my mother, they probably would. I should consider myself lucky that she did not do it herself.

  A shadow crosses my wall, and I freeze. Movement flickers in the darkened corner, and I inhale sharply.

  Before I have time to wonder if the guards would even respond to a shout, an icy breeze swirls through the room. “Have no fear, Princess.”

  Iisak. My eyes are wide, seeking any shred of light in the darkened room. As the panic bleeds away, I make out the dimness of his skin, the smoke-colored span of his wings over his shoulders. He still wears a silver collar around his neck, but the chain is gone.

  I shove myself up to sitting and glance at the door. “What are you doing here?” I whisper carefully, mindful of my guards.

  “Visiting a prisoner, as you once did for me.”

  Emotion builds in my throat, and my mouth turns downward. “You should leave before you are caught.” I press my fingertips into my eyes to stop any tears from falling. “I bring nothing but trouble, Iisak.”

  “Perhaps, but I bring a missive from our rebellious young prince.”

  I thrust my hands down and blink at him. “What?”

  He extends a folded piece of paper, and I nearly fall out of bed scrambling to take it. It’s too late to dare light a candle—my guards would notice something was amiss. I move to the window to read in the moonlight.

  Grey’s handwriting is long and sloping, the words quickly formed as if he was worried he would be discovered.

  Forgive me. Please forgive me. I never meant to put you at risk. If there is a way for me to negotiate for your freedom, please let me know it. Your mother plays dangerous games, and I worry that I will further endanger you or those you care for.

  I keep thinking back to those brief moments on the veranda and wondering if I should never have offered you my jacket. My thoughts keep reminding me that you were cold, however, and the idea of leaving you shivering is not a thought I can bear.

  Especially when my thoughts also remind me of the brief moments after, when I hope you were not cold at all.

  I want to sink back into the pillows of my bed and press this letter to my chest, but I am desperate to see what else he wrote.

  I have reached an accord with your mother in an attempt to spare more innocent lives. I tried to require your freedom as part of our agreement, but your mother refused. If I had the skills to magic myself into your room this very moment, I would do it.

  At your mother’s insistence, I have spent a great deal of time with your sister.

  My hand tightens on the paper, and I must force myself to keep reading.

  She is quite worried for you. The bold girl who raced me through the city now speaks of nothing but concern for you. As someone who has spent many days trying to think of what to say to the man who is now my brother, I thought you should know.

  Yours,

  Grey

  Yours. But he’s not mine.

  A tear drips onto the paper, and I hastily swipe it away. I force my shoulders to straighten, and I look across at Iisak, hardly more than another shadow in the room.

  “Is he well?” I say.

  “He is trapped by circumstance, as we all are.” He pauses. “But yes. He is well.”

  As we all are. I’m not sure if that’s true. My mother does not care for the people of Emberfall. Nor does my sister. I think of that trapper and his daughter, killed without thought.

  I think of the destruction we saw on our trip into Emberfall, so many days ago.

  I think of Prince Rhen, and what he was willing to do to stop an heir from taking his throne.

  I think of Parrish, likely standing outside my door this very moment, punished for obeying my order.

  I look at Iisak, then at the window. “Can you help me get out of here?” I whisper as softly as possible, as if even giving voice to the thought will carry the words to my mother’s ears.

  He follows my glance, then moves to the window. “I cannot bear the weight of a human for long.”

  “You pulled soldiers off their horses in Blind Hollow.”

  “That was a matter of inches, not a three-story fall, and I was not worried about preserving their lives.”

  I frown, then sigh. “I can do nothing from this room, Iisak.”

  “If you leap from this window, the best I can offer is a slower descent toward death.”

  That makes me scowl. “So this is it? I’m supposed to sit here and read while Grey goes off to battle against his brother, with my sister at his side?”

  “Would you rather be at his side?”

  Warmth blooms in my cheeks before I’m ready for it. “I would rather we not war with Emberfall at all. We have already caused much damage.”

  “You have not caused all the damage to Emberfall, Princess.” He pauses. “Some things even you cannot stop.”

  Does that mean there are things I can stop? Everything I’ve tried has ended in failure. It’s likely a miracle that I was able to deliver Grey to the castle unharmed. Perhaps I should stay locked in my room while everyone else solves the world’s problems.

  No. The idea is abhorrent to me.

  We have already caused so much harm. We cannot continue taking from Emberfall, regardless of who is in power.

  Mother will not allow me to leave. Parrish will not help me. Grey’s position is too precarious.

  I move to my desk and remove a few sheets of paper, along with an inkwell and a quill.

  “Will you deliver a message?” I say to Iisak.

  “To the prince? For certain.”

  “No.” My thoughts are swirling, thinking of what to say to Grey. But ink drips on the paper as I hastily write my message.

  Two sisters, one heart. Please come to me. I need my other half.

  I blow on the ink to dry it, then hold it out. “I need you to take this to my sister.”

  I imagined Nolla Verin reading my message and immediately coming to my door.

  She does not.

  I lie awake most of the night, watching as the first rays of sunlight gild my ceiling at dawn. Outside my room I hear the clatter and bustle of servants in the hall, but Nolla Verin still does not come.

  By midmorning, I sit by the window hoping to catch a glimpse of my sister.

  Eventually she appears, Grey at her side. My chest gives a tug at the sight of them, but today, I do not shy away from the window. Mother follows, not far behind. They meet with a cadre of soldiers on the training field, all of whom break apart into sparring groups. Grey and my sister watch over the fighters, my mother nearby. Always watching, always judging. My fingers dig into the window ledge.

  Ah, Sister, I think. Look up. Look up and see how much I need you.

  Maybe we do share a heart, because she turns from the swordplay, and her gaze lifts to find mine. I gasp as our eyes meet.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  Even from here, I can see the sorrow in her expression, proving the weight in Grey’s note.

  Her lips move, forming the words very carefully: I’m sorry.

  I fall back from the window, but not before seeing her turn back to our mother, listening to whatever she’s saying, ever the dutiful heir.

  That night, when the sky is inky black and the moon hangs high and full outside my window, Iisak returns with another note from Grey.

  Your mother is eager to move quickly.
She reveals little to me, but guards and soldiers talk, and it seems my past allows me to play both sides. I have learned much during our sparring. Your Royal Houses are similar to Rhen’s Grand Marshals, and it seems she has gained their support—and funding. They are eager to access Rhen’s waterways and seaports, and timing is essential now, because his kingdom is fractured and weak. We will ride into Emberfall in a few days.

  I do not know how soon I will return.

  I do not know if I will return.

  I once spent an eternity dreading every passing minute, and now I wish for more time.

  More than anything, however, I wish I could free you. I long for your strength and compassion to be at my side. All your mother and sister seem to offer is vicious brutality.

  That has its place, of course, but perhaps not as much as I once thought.

  Yours,

  Grey

  I take a long breath and blow it out. My chest aches.

  I look up at Iisak. “He’s going to attack Rhen.”

  “Yes.”

  I swallow and set down the letter. I knew that’s what lay at the end of this road … but I do not like it.

  I see no way out of it. All my studies, all my reading and thinking, all my cleverness and compassion, and the result is the same.

  “He’s wrong,” I say.

  “Wrong, Princess?”

  “He’s going to war.” My voice is hollow. “He needs all the vicious brutality he can get.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  GREY

  My hours have never been so full, my sleep never so sound. My mornings are full of lessons: in Syssalah, in court politics, in the customs and traditions of Syhl Shallow. Nolla Verin is often at my side, but she never feels like a companion, and instead feels like a spy waiting to report on my progress to her mother. I keep my guard up—and she does as well.

  I share the midday meal each day with Karis Luran. Jake never leaves my side. When we dine, I am coolly distant, resentful of the way she’d so swiftly manipulated me: into proving my magic, into working against Rhen. Resentful of the way she’s hidden her daughter away after such a brutal display of vengeance against that guard.