by Emily Inskip
“For God’s sake,” Amara cursed as Nadia muttered something beneath her breath. It was inaudible, even to Amara’s ears. “We are never doing that again.”
“I’m fine,” Nadia said, although it wasn’t convincing. Not even for a second.
Amara shook her head and that small flake of hope within her seemed to crumble away. “You’re not doing the ritual tomorrow.”
She wasn’t going to stand by and watch her friend suffer. Especially not for her own sake. If anything happened to Nadia, Amara didn’t think she’d forgive herself. She would rather hand herself over to Fassar the next second. Because that’s what she would deserve.
“Don’t be dramatic.” Nadia rolled her eyes, but as she did, she almost tumbled to the side. Amara tightened her grip around her arms. “I promise I’m strong enough for the ritual. Let me help you.”
“Not going to happen.”
“It will.”
Amara’s brows knitted together. “You’re fine then? Okay, so you won’t mind if I let go of you.”
Almost instantly after Amara removed her hands, Nadia wobbled then toppled backwards. Amara grabbed her before she could smash her head against the tiles, but still, it proved her point. There was no way they were doing the ritual tomorrow. Not when there was so much of a risk.
Chalk was a white smudge on Nadia’s dark hair. It smeared across the floor where she’d fallen, the pentagram lines blurred into a now unrecognisable shape.
Amara only closed her eyes, trying not to notice the itching sense of disappointment that welled in her gut.
“We aren’t doing it, the plan’s over,” Amara said. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have got you involved. I’m sorry.”
Nadia wiped the blood from her face with a small cloth from her pocket. “No, you don’t get to decide that, Amara. This is my decision as much as yours.”
“But, what about your sister . . . what about everything you said before? You don’t really want to use your magic—”
“That’s true,” Nadia whispered, a single tear swelling in her eye. “I don’t. But I will. I’ll do anything it takes if it means I can help a friend.”
Amara didn’t think words could affect her like they did. But a blossom of warmth spread through her, her emotions tugging to be let free.
“Now who’s being the dramatic one?” Amara smirked before leaping to her feet and pulling Nadia up with her. “Okay, we’ll do this. But if at any point I think it’s too dangerous, the plan gets terminated. I don’t care whether it means helping me or not, I am not putting you in danger.”
“If the stakes are really as high as you say they are, then I already am,” Nadia stared distantly out towards the shimmering city amongst the foothills. “The entirety of Esteria is in danger if this man you speak of is dealing with dark magic. I’ve spent too many years watching witches be abused. Now it’s time to make things even.”
Shadows flickered across her face with a promise of vengeance.
Amara only flashed her a wicked grin. “Would you look at that? They grow up so fast.”
She pinched Nadia’s cheeks before the witch had time to dodge. “Hey!” she yelped. “Remind me again why I’m friends with you.”
“We’re blood bound now, remember?” Amara grinned before strolling back to her bedroom. “There’s no escaping me.”
“Where are you going?”
“For a bath, you should get one too. Chalk isn’t good for the hair.” She threw Nadia an amused glance before disappearing into the next room. “See you at Whistlethyme, witch.”
“Not if I see you first, bloodsucker.”
37
The day drizzled by with never-ending dress fittings and gatherings in the throne room. The real celebrations wouldn’t start until sundown but the castle was already buzzing with excitement and festivities. Brightly coloured lanterns were strung out down the hallways. Servants were busy wrapping golden ribbon around the grand pillars, throwing up garlands of peonies and honeysuckle above doorways, anything that symbolised the life of spring and dawn of summer.
Amara had run into Enid whilst having to endure an hour-long ceremony whereby children from the city came to dance around a maypole, singing tunes of the harvest. Enid was bursting with energy, babbling on about playing Finder’s Hunt with the other children and how excited she was for the evening celebrations.
“You will come to the gardens and release your lantern with us, won’t you?” she beamed up at Amara, her rosy cheeks gleaming with happiness.
“Possibly,” Amara only replied. She didn’t like making promises she knew she wouldn’t keep.
In honesty, she was interested in what the view of the Whistlethyme celebrations would look like from the peaks of Winvaris. When the entirety of Valmont released their lanterns, bearing their written wishes, into the star-lit sky. It would be a sight, to say the least. One she’d never bothered to experience before, in all her years of living in the city.
What would she wish for tonight? To not be dead tomorrow.
She still surprised herself when she remembered what the following day would bring. It made her gut lurch every time. She still knew little about the ritual, but she knew she could trust Nadia. And that, she decided, was enough.
Throughout the festivities, Amara kept finding her eyes straying towards the empty throne beside the Queen. Aedric hadn’t attended any of the celebrations, even Enid claimed she hadn’t seen her brother that day. Amara tried not to feel bothered about it, but she couldn’t help thinking about him. Where he was, if he was in trouble. No one was safe when Fassar was only a step behind. Maybe Elias had already told him about her . . . connection with the Prince. Any person associated with Amara was a liability that he would use against her at any time.
You care too much.
“And you speak too much,” Amara muttered beneath her breath before realising she was sat around a table with ten other nobles. People who were now all staring at her.
“I’m sorry, Lady Lynessa. Did you say something?” one of the lords asked, sharing an alarmed glance across the table.
Amara only coughed, smiling sweetly. “No, you must be mistaken, lord.”
The rest of Whistlethyme continued like that. Amara dwelled in her own silence, occasionally having to curtesy and offer polite words to the other castle guests. She also became good friends with the sparkling wine bottle left at her table.
When the day’s activities finally drew to a close and many of the nobles left to prepare for the evening celebrations, Amara slipped back to her rooms, sighing as the door clicked shut and the comforting arms of silence embraced her.
It didn’t last long.
Maids bustled in and soon she was being pampered and fussed over as though she were a queen herself. Amara had to resist the urge to smack their hands away as the focused on taking in her gown and arranging the ruffles of her ivory skirt. The dress was another gorgeous piece they’d picked out for her from the gilded armoire in her bedroom. Rhinestones shimmered and split as she moved, encrusting the bodice and midway down the skirt as though it was a cascade of sparkles.
“You’ll look like you belong in the sky tonight,” the elder maid beamed. “You’ll be a wish to the gods like all the other lanterns on Whistlethyme.”
Amara smiled, trying not to look as fake as she felt. “You’re too kind.”
“You know what would look nice?” the maid mused, bracing her hands on her narrow hips. “The comb you wore for the spring ball. But I never saw it again after that night, do you still have it?”
Amara had to choke on a laugh. Lord Bastion had become very familiar with that comb, indeed. “I’m sorry to admit that I don’t know.” She forced her brows together. “It really is a shame, I came to love that small trinket.”
With a sigh, the maid turned away, gathering her things before shooing out the other maids. They all left without another word and soon Amara was alone again.
Warm buttery light bled beneath the horizon as th
e sun slowly set. Barely any clouds hung in the sky, with only a faint breeze drifting in from the sea. A clear night, which meant that the lantern display later would be even more spectacular.
Music had already begun playing in the gardens, the live string orchestra busy running through their set. Laughter flowed around the castle as people danced and drank with friends. Maybe Amara should be down there, too. But she didn’t want to put up her act of Lady Lynessa. At least not for tonight. It was far easier to just remain up on her balcony, admiring the sky above.
“Amara!” a high pitch squeal came from behind her and soon Enid was rushing towards her on to the balcony.
Enid threw her arms around her waist and clung so tightly to Amara that it made her realise two things. One, she was glad she didn’t need to breathe, or else this would be very much uncomfortable. And two, whoever let this child in was going to need a stern talking to.
“Are you coming down?” Enid asked hopefully, looking up at her with wide, bright eyes.
“Princess Enid, get back here!” Nadia stumbled into view, panting and rosy-cheeked. She immediately caught Amara’s eye and shot her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, the Princess was just on her way to the celebrations when she ran off.”
“I came to get Amara,” Enid said, sticking her bottom lip out defensively. “She needs to come with us.”
Nadia must have read the reluctance across Amara’s face as she said softly to the child, “I don’t think she wants to, Enid.”
“But,” Enid protested, stomping towards Nadia, her red hair flowing wildly behind her. “But she has to. She’s my friend.”
Nadia shook her head smiling. “Why don’t you ask her? And if you’re her friend, you’ll accept her decision, whatever it is.”
Amara knew who the witch was really talking to.
With that, Enid spun towards her, that hopeful gleam still shining in her eyes. “Do you want to come?” she asked eagerly.
Amara hated taking sweets from a child, but sometimes it had to be done. “I’m sorry Enid, but I’m still not feeling very well. You go and have fun without me.”
Enid’s shoulders sagged at that. “But no one else is any fun.”
Nadia hummed from the balcony door. “What about me?”
Enid only shrugged and Amara really had to bite her tongue to stifle a laugh.
“Run along now,” she said, grinning. “Nadia can be fun, too. Obviously, not as much as me, but she does her best.”
Nadia only had to arch a brow and a gust of freezing air suddenly rushed across the balcony. Enid screamed and ran inside past the smirking witch, leaving Amara clutching her arms in the cold.
“You should watch what you say,” Nadia winked and Amara gave her a gesture she was glad Enid wasn’t there to see.
“Enjoy the celebrations,” Amara said, turning back to rest her hands on the marble railings. “Make the most of tonight. Then tomorrow we’ll meet to go over the last details of the Red Ritual.”
“Of course,” was all Nadia replied. And as she left, a warm wind seemed to settle over the balcony. Amara could have sworn she felt invisible arms fold around her but they were gone in seconds, whisked away by the late-spring breeze.
Time dripped away as she watched the moon slowly rise. It was a single fleck of creamy light in the dark enamel sky.
Amara remembered the long nights she spent in Fassar’s manor, when she would gaze up into the sky through her single narrow window, barely a slit within the brickwork. Every night she would look to the moon, constantly shifting, morphing into different forms. Only sometimes would it show it’s full self to her. A perfect round plaque of shimmering light. But at the times when only a sliver of it appeared, Amara still thought it was beautiful all the same. She looked to the moon because even on the darkest nights, it was there. Perhaps it was only a crescent, or sometimes a patch of faint grey. But just because it couldn’t be seen, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. And Amara used that to remind herself that one day she would be whole again. That she wasn’t lost, not really. She just needed the chance to be seen.
Soon would be the time to release the lanterns. The celebrations in the gardens below were already growing louder in anticipation. Amara wondered if Aedric was down there, too. If he would be involving in pleasant conversations, shaking the hands of guests, playing his role of prince. She wondered if anyone noticed what he really wanted. If they saw how his eyes would grow brighter when the music played.
Amara touched her fingers to the large amber stone sat around her neck. It felt warm beneath her touch, as though some residual energy from the sun still pulsed there.
“I should have guessed you wouldn’t be coming down to the gardens,” a low voice rumbled as Aedric came up beside her.
Amara blinked. She’d barely even noticed his presence. And that wasn’t something that happened a lot.
“I’ve had to endure enough celebrations today to last me a lifetime,” she said, still facing out over the mountains and the city below. “You seemed lucky enough to avoid them all.”
“So, you noticed I wasn’t there?”
She felt him grinning beside her. “It’s easy to do when you realise there’s no one around to annoy you.”
He chuckled softly, tapping his fingers to the railings. “Well, I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”
Amara turned to him then, raising a brow. “Where were you?”
His face grew serious, the humour leaving his eyes. “I had business in the city. Things are getting worse down there, more people are going missing every day.”
Amara cringed. No doubt that was Fassar’s doing. All the more reason to end it tomorrow night.
“I was helping the families in one of the refuges I set up a few months ago. I have guards posted there at all hours, but every week I like to go and give my service, in whatever way I can.”
“That’s . . . truly amazing,” she said, still not really believing the fact that there were people out there willing to make a difference. What having someone like that would have meant for her when she was nothing more than a desperate orphan searching for any way to survive.
Aedric shook his head. “It’s still not enough.”
“You have done more than enough. Today has been proof of that.”
He fell silent, dropping his gaze to the floor. Amara frowned. What was there to feel guilty about? Before she could stop herself, she leaned over and took his hand in hers.
“I’ve seen too many people with power like yours abuse it. They use it to knock people down, bend them to their will. Get what they want. But you . . . you’re different. Better.”
He tightened his grip, his thumb brushing light circles against the back of her hand. “You make me better,” he said quietly.
She wasn’t sure she was breathing. “I thought I made your life harder?”
He let out a deep, husky laugh. “Oh, you do. But I enjoy every second of it.”
Amara pinched his arm, earning a chuckle in return. In the silence, they looked out over the glowing city, a sprawling net of chimneys and firelights amongst the dark mountainside.
“I didn’t think people like you existed,” she said, savouring the warmth of his broad hand around hers.
“People like me?”
Her gazed drifted upwards, meeting his. “Dreamers.” She could have sworn stars danced in his eyes as she spoke. “People who believe in a better world.”
He smiled. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “I hope we will see that better world together.”
Aedric turned her hand over in his, tracing the lines of her palm in gentle strokes.
“One day,” she said softly, watching his fingers brush over hers. “One day.”
They stood together, gazing out at the star-flecked sky, silence stretching between them.
“Well,” Aedric finally said, a new energy in his voice. “If you’re not going to the gardens, will you at least make a wish from up here?”
Amar
a pursed her lips. “Maybe.”
Aedric flashed her a winning smile before releasing her hand and striding towards her bedroom. He next appeared with a bundle of paper, charcoal and flint shoved beneath his arm.
“Here,” he said, offering her one of the flimsy lanterns. “I don’t know how you do it in the south, but here at Winvaris, you just write your note, light the candle and let it go.”
“I think I can just about manage that,” she rolled her eyes, plucking the charcoal from his hand and began scribbling a short message onto the outside of the lantern.
Once she was finished, Amara turned around to see Aedric already ready with his, a lit splint burning in his hand. In one swift movement, he lit his lantern and passed her the flame.
“Aren’t we supposed to wait until twelve bells?” Amara sketched a brow as Aedric walked over to the edge of the balcony.
“Since when did you care about following the rules?” he threw her a wicked grin over his shoulder that made it hard for her to think.
“It’s not me I’m worried about, princeling,” she smiled before lighting her own lantern and stubbing out the splint onto the cool marble railing. “I wouldn’t want to corrupt you with my crooked ways.”
“I think we both know it’s too late for that.” His shoulder brushed hers as they held up their lanterns. Air gently rustled against its paper sides, tugging, tempting it upwards into the sky.
“Make your wish,” he whispered into her ear before letting go. She missed the release of her own lantern, too focused on the gentle warmth of his breath pricking her skin.
Goddamn you, incorrigible man.
His scent of smoke and pine encased her as she watched their twin lanterns glow, gradually drifting further away, caught upon the alpine breeze that whisked them up, up into the night.
His arm came to fall around her waist as they gazed up together at the tiny amber flicker of their lanterns now so far in the distance, blending into the network of stars above. She melted into him, forgetting everything and anything. It was as though the tide had finally come and washed away all her life’s driftwood and rubble, leaving only a smooth shore behind.
