by Hannah West
I took in a shuddering sigh. “Half of the Conclave wants to imprison me for what happened.”
“Fortunately, it’s no longer their call to make,” she said, giving my knee a firm pat.
“What do you mean?”
She rose and extended a hand. “Someone else has come to see you.”
Shakily, I stood and we left my chambers, my mother trailing behind.
I entered the common room and found a striking man with eyes the color of soil after rain: Ambassador Rayed Lillis. His features were angular, sculpted by the clean lines of charcoal brows and a decisively kempt beard. On my visits to Beyrian over the years, I had gotten on quite well with the ambassador’s younger sister, Kadri, who was now betrothed to the Prince of Yorth.
Ivria had been closer to the youthful Erdemese representative himself. When his country appointed him to replace his ailing father as ambassador to Nissera, I had begun to address him by his title, while Ivria continued to use his given name even after his boyishness had been polished away like smudges from silver. She might have wed him, but our family would have considered it daft for a soon-to-be-immortal woman to unite with a mortal man already half a decade older.
“Dear Valory,” Rayed said, pacing forward to clasp my hand with his callused, russet-brown fingers. An enamel pin depicting the yellow-and-maroon flag of Erdem glinted on the collar of his wool tunic. “I could hardly fathom the news of Ivria’s death. My heart aches for the loss and the devastation it’s caused your family.”
Tears clogged my throat. I gave a small nod in reply, grateful that he treated me like a grieving loved one rather than a rampaging murderer.
Grandmum sat on the sofa and crossed her legs, which made even the stoic Brandar double-glance. Highborn women in these parts wore gowns, except when training or riding, and crossed their ankles when they sat. But Juniper Braiosa had never yielded to our customs. She wore a knee-length shift over breeches and boots lined with fur, topped by an embossed leather coat. “You must eat, Valory,” Grandmum said. “You’re as feeble as a winter flower. Ellen, don’t you have old tricks to make my granddaughter eat something?”
Ellen plunked the tray of food on the table nearest me. “Not for ten years now, Madam Braiosa. She’s not usually hard to convince.” My maid managed a modest smile and scurried off to make tea.
“You’ll need your strength for the journey, dear one,” Grandmum said.
“Journey?” I asked.
Rayed took a seat across from Grandmum and waited, stroking his beard. Clearly, they would withhold their plans from me until I surrendered and ate something for the first time in days. With a sigh of submission, I plucked up a chunk of bread and an apple. Ellen was thoughtful enough to bring simple foods that would settle my weak stomach. Mother had tried to tempt me with a buttery pastry yesterday and then commanded me to eat it, thinking she was doing me good. It had only made me sick. As I yielded to my hunger and bit into the apple, Mother looked rather resentful, alighting on a chair by the hearth and folding her arms. She did not much like the qualities Grandmum teased out of me, maintaining that I became defiant after my visits with her.
Grandmum nodded approval. The ambassador extracted a scroll from his coat and unfurled it, saying, “The Realm Alliance has ordered the Conclave to pass your case up to them. Queen Jessa has summoned the other Realm Alliance representatives to Beyrian to hear your testimony and determine how to move forward.”
My nerves pulled taut as I took and studied the scroll, which bore a gray wax seal of balanced scales. The Realm Alliance was comprised of Nissera’s kings and queens, prominent mortals, the Conclave members, and leaders from other lands. Grandmum and Rayed were both representatives. The inclusion of outlanders reflected Nissera’s growing rapport with countries that had once avoided us due to our magical creatures and supernatural wars. When elicromancers had at last dwindled to only a few, nearby lands across the seas had begun to tentatively trade with us. After word spread that Queen Bristal and King Anthony had surrendered their elicrin stones and no elicromancers remained in Nissera, trade alliances sprang up like wild grasses.
Magic was reintroduced by my great-grandfather after Anthony and Bristal had passed on, and even then only under strict stipulations that would benefit all: elicromancers and mortals, natives and foreigners, kings and peasants.
I would have to face representatives of every one of these groups to explain the unexplainable.
“The Realm Alliance has the authority to overturn any penalty—or grace—the Conclave has rendered,” Grandmum said, accepting briarberry tea from Ellen. The people of Darmeska preferred the bitter drink even to wine. “We will not rush through the trial as the Conclave tends to. You can expect to stay in Beyrian for at least a fortnight.”
I swilled gulps of water and swished the last bit around my dry mouth. The Realm Alliance gathered at the most convenient hub for regulating travel and trade from distant lands: the southernmost royal city of Nissera. Beyrian was my favorite place to travel within the realm. Memories stirred my senses: I could almost taste the fresh oysters, smell the imported spices, hear the blends of languages and dialects, watch the blue sea whip up its gentle white foam. “When do we leave?”
“We have a few days’ padding, but I’m keen to whisk you away from Arna before more trouble comes. I think we should leave tomorrow morning.”
“Very well.” I deposited the apple core on the tray. My stomach growled for whatever simmered inside the covered silver pot, but hope and fear seemed to knot my insides even more than despair. “I’ll pack.”
As I passed, Grandmum grabbed my wrist and gently pivoted me so we were facing. She rose and cupped my chin in her hands. “You have my grandmum Drell’s fire and wisdom, her proud chin.”
Somehow, I summoned a smile. Just as my mother’s family would tell tales of my great-great-grandparents Bristal and Anthony, Grandmum would tell me of Drell and Maddock, my mortal ancestors who fought bravely alongside them in the war against the dark elicromancer Tamarice. They had defeated Tamarice and her armies from Galgeth, the dark netherworld to the west that only immortals could reach.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “And thank you both for helping me.”
“Thank King Tiernan,” said Rayed, cradling his teacup. “He wrote the Realm Alliance a detailed missive on the night of Ivria’s death to prevent facts mixing with rumors. The loss of the Water will affect the whole realm and beyond, not just elicromancers. Though the Conclave enjoys autonomy in many matters, King Tiernan insisted this should not be one of them.”
I didn’t miss the shadowed look the ambassador and Grandmum shared, the dark flash of worry and unuttered words in their eyes. Had King Tiernan feared I would not receive a fair trial from the Conclave?
“The Alliance could have sent a magical missive,” I mused aloud. “Did they dispatch you in person to ensure that the Conclave complied with the order?”
“Two mortals? One an old woman?” Grandmum snorted. “I should think not.”
“We have no doubt the Conclave will comply.” Rayed underscored his assurance with a smile that softened his clever features. “Not to worry.”
Mother cleared her throat. “Will she be free to return when the trial is over? If she must be held captive, surely they will be reasonable and leave her with her family.”
My teeth clenched hard on my lower lip as I imagined returning to this. I was fortunate indeed to be in the comfort of my own rooms, as vacant as they felt without Ivria. But the thought of coming back here, unable to use the magic I’d always longed to possess, hated and feared for what I had unknowingly done…
“We must hope for a better outcome than captivity,” Grandmum replied tersely.
Rayed added, “Perhaps we can convince the other leaders it’s a matter of age and discipline, that you will not be a threat with proper guidance.”
I laced my fingers together, feeling a pulse of power thrumming under my skin. Brandar’s blank eyes cut toward me with
renewed interest. “If…if we are able to convince the Realm Alliance that I will cause no harm,” I ventured, dropping my hands, “will I ever be permitted to use my magic?”
“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Grandmum said. “Tell the truth and everything will sort itself out.”
I wanted to believe her. But I had told the truth to the Conclave and they had nearly voted to lock me away with criminals and murderers.
The only answer for now was to attempt to suffocate the magic I had always longed to possess—to appear unthreatening and untroublesome, even as everything inside me insisted I was neither.
* * *
The next morning, Ellen helped me stuff clothes into my trunk and wrestled down the lid so I could close the clasps. She had swept away the ashes while I slept, and now my room sparkled as if no one lived here at all.
Packing for a journey without Ivria’s exacting opinion was no easy feat, and not merely because I lacked the eye for ensembles. I had to pack away my sadness too, and struggle to keep it closed.
Just after we stepped away from the laden trunk, satisfied with our work, I growled in frustration. “I meant to pack one of Ivria’s gowns!”
“I already packed one,” Ellen said. “The emerald with the waist clasp and lace underneath. I hemmed it for you.”
“Oh, Ellen! Did you get even a wink of sleep?”
“I’ve got fairy blood in me, you’ll recall, which means I’ve a knack for finishing chores in a twinkling.” She lowered her voice and cast a sideways glance at the Neutralizer sitting in the common room. “Besides, I didn’t feel right leaving you alone on your first night under…supervision.”
With a wry smile, I said, “Don’t worry about me, Ellen.”
“I can’t help it,” she said, and bent to retrieve a small dagger from the bottom drawer of my wardrobe. My father had given me the weapon and taught me to use it during our months of mountaineering. Ellen pressed the leather-sheathed blade into my hands.
“Whyever would I need this?” I asked, brushing my thumb over the engraved hilt and cross guard. As I pinched the metal chape of the scabbard, I recalled how it felt to thrust that graceful, tapered blade into animal flesh. It would be as useless as a sewing needle against an elicromancer.
“Indulge your fretful old maid—there’s a good lass.”
I chuckled as I fastened the belt around my waist. “If it brings you comfort, Ellen.”
Grandmum swept into my chamber. “Let’s be going while the day is young!”
“Nearly ready, mistress,” Ellen said. “Do you need your winter mantle, love?” she asked me, holding the fur-trimmed ivory garment by the shoulders. “You could still catch a chill.”
“No, I’ll be fine, I…” I trailed off. The memory of passing a white-cloaked person in the dark halls of the academy rushed back to me, buried and forgotten amid the night’s harrowing events.
There had been no signs of foul play, no indication that the mysterious entity—perhaps a figment of my imagination—had anything to do with the tragedies that had occurred. But just like the figure slipping past me in the cold stone corridor, the remark slipped off my tongue. “I think I may have passed someone else sneaking around in the academy right before I found Ivria by the Water.” I looked at Grandmum. “I know it wasn’t a guard because I could hear them talking elsewhere. Should I mention it at my hearing?”
Grandmum frowned, her lips cinching like a coin purse. “You should have already mentioned it to the Conclave. Their records on your case will be sent to the Realm Alliance.”
“I’d forgotten until now.”
Decades of wisdom puckered her brow as she considered. “Can you describe the person?”
“No, not really. All I saw was what looked like a white cloak, but it could have been—”
Grandmum jolted as though trying to rid her neck of a crick.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Before she could answer, my mother swayed into the room, arms crossed. “I do hope this ordeal concludes quickly and favorably,” she said, as though this trial were nothing but an inconvenience of my making.
A note materialized on my desk. Curiosity bloomed as I stepped forward to retrieve a featherlight parchment with gold trim. Breaking the pale blue seal with the imprint of a lily, I scanned the decorative handwriting and found a message from the three cousins I’d seen at the funeral yesterday.
“What is it?” Mother asked.
“An invitation from the Lorenthi sisters. They heard I’ll be journeying south—”
“Already? I miss the days before magical missives started raging gossip.”
“—and asked me to visit them at the palace in Pontaval.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Grandmum said.
“You’ll be passing by Pontaval anyway,” Mother said. “It’s better than some seamy inn on the city outskirts. There are plenty of scoundrels ready to take advantage of a pretty girl from wealth.”
“Valory ought to lie low,” Grandmum argued, her eyes the shivery blue of a sunny midwinter day. “We can’t risk another scandal erupting before her hearing. And the Lorenthi siblings are mighty scandalous, especially that boy Devorian—”
“Snubbing high-profile relatives is its own scandal,” Mother cut in, fiddling with the chain that held her elicrin stone. “At least in polite society.”
“We can discuss it on the way.” I folded the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of my copper dress, putting the matter to rest. Mother and Grandmum’s relationship was like a taut string on a lute; if you were careful, you could pluck around the discord to elicit a few agreeable notes.
Mother and Ellen followed us down to the mist-shrouded courtyard. Part of me wished Ander would appear, that he would apologize for wounding me with his accusations. But he wouldn’t come, and I shouldn’t want him to.
King Tiernan, however, materialized at my side as the coachman loaded my luggage onto the roof rack. Though I’d never admit it aloud, the elicromancer ability to be here one second and gone the next set my nerves on edge.
The dawn light cut across the king’s rigid features as he placed his hand on my shoulder and steered me away from the others. “The Conclave must not discover what I’m about to tell you. In fact, no one should.”
My heart galloped as he turned his pensive eyes on me. By default, I’d always thought they were as gray as steel. But now that he stood so close, I noticed they were more of a warm, gilded green—like mine.
“Brandar said he was unable to neutralize you yesterday,” the king explained. “He attempted it twice, once when you cracked the walls in the corridor and again when you fled to your room. Fortunately, Brandar is loyal to me above the Conclave. Your secret is safe. He will give you as much privacy and dignity as he can while appearing to do his duty. But now you know how crucial it is that you manage your power.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied, my voice whisper-thin. “Thank you.”
“I will see you in Beyrian for the hearing.”
Before I could stutter out a reply, he materialized away. I shuffled back across the smooth courtyard stones, schooling my face to neutrality.
“What did Uncle Tiernan want?” Mother asked as Grandmum settled into the spacious covered carriage. Rayed had just arrived, his dark brown eyes surveying me with curiosity.
Too stunned to muster an adequate lie, I spit out a half-truth. “He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t use my magic.”
Even as I leveled my outward astonishment, King Tiernan’s words beat like a war drum in my chest: He was unable to neutralize you. Neutralization was the first and last line of defense for the powerful Conclave. A Neutralizer was retrieved at the first sign of unfettered elicrin power—and if the tenet-breaker in question did not comply, the Neutralizer would confiscate her elicrin stone.
If I could not be neutralized, controlling me might come down to trading blows and spilling blood. And the blood would be mine, if I didn’t learn to gover
n my power.
But if I did…I would be the only one who could.
This epiphany prompted me to turn around and march across the courtyard, my skirt bunched in my fists. I ignored the voices calling after me. On a sharp turn, I nearly clipped the base of a statue of Queen Bristal before hurrying over the stretch of green that bordered the eastern side of the palace.
The wooden gate leading to the kennels stood open. I flung it wide and searched the paddocks until I found Melkior and a kennel attendant in the midst of examining a male deerhound’s teeth.
“Where’s Calanthe?”
The yaps and barks that greeted me nearly drowned out my question. Melkior stood and draped his arms over the gate, his posture dripping with self-content. A jerk of his head made me look back to see that Brandar had pursued me.
“Last kennel on the left,” Melkior answered. “But it would be bold to defy Ivria’s wishes after…you know.” He clicked his tongue. “Wouldn’t look very proper.”
The anger blistering in my veins threatened to awaken my unruly power. Instead of waiting for the rage to surface, I lunged at Melkior. My anger was not just toward him, but toward Ander, the Conclave, the scandalized funeral guests. With their faces in mind, I drove the heel of my hand into Melkior’s nose.
The resulting sound was both wet, like a bare foot stuck in the mud, and brittle. His scathing snarl collapsed. He yowled a curse and lurched back, gripping the bridge of his bloody nose while he gathered the wherewithal to heal himself. The base of my palm ached with an impending bruise.
I walked on until I found Calanthe curled up in the corner of a large enclosure strewn with hay. When I unlatched the gate, she bounded ahead of me, soaring free from the confinement of the kennels. Melkior’s elicrin stone glowed as he recovered and faced me, a spell poised behind his blood-drenched teeth.
