The Gifted Sisters and the Golden Mirror

by Rachel Crist

  I catch a movement to my right. I can barely make out a dozen cloaked riders. My chest expands, feeling a sense of relief. None of them are wearing red masks; it gives me the hope I need.

  An arrow whizzes close by, zipping past my ear. Bless the Maker! Who are they shooting at! My heart thuds inside my chest, reacting to the sudden danger. More riders gallop past us, making escape impossible on our current path.

  The Silent Watcher suddenly slams against me and tumbles off the horse. With only a second to look back, I see an arrow protruding from his neck. I try not to panic. With the assassin no longer guiding the horse, I’m now being carried by an out-of-control steed.

  The horse tears through the woods, taking its own unreliable path. It doesn’t care where it takes me.

  Twisting my wrists, I try to grab hold of the reins as if my life depends on it. The jostle from the horse keeps me from staying upright in the saddle and I slowly begin to slide sideways. At the rate we’re going, any type of contact could kill me.

  A tree up ahead has a broken branch jutting out into our path. If my horse doesn’t adjust soon, it doesn’t look good for me. Riders ahead try to block the treacherous path. But my horse continues straight for the branch. I clench my eyes tight and await the impact. Suddenly, my horse jerks to the side.

  My eyes flash open to see a rider grabbing hold of the horse’s reins. He slows us down until we stop. Instantly a burning pain erupts around my wrists.

  The rider pulls back his hood, revealing a mess of tousled brown hair that curls out from under his ears. His strong rugged features are full of concern as he unsheathes his knife and begins cutting away the rope that binds my wrists.

  I can’t help but notice how long his eyelashes are, reaching down to the arch of his cheek. A long thin scar runs along his left side of his jaw, and I find myself suddenly interested in how he got it.

  When the last thread of rope is cut away, I begin massaging my wrists; soreness is already running deep.

  “Thank you.”

  He doesn’t respond, but sits there and stares at me with the most curious expression. There’s an intensity and a gentleness to be found in the depth of this rider’s blue eyes, and a warmth spreads through my chest as he continues to look at me. Is he observing me the same way I am him?

  “Your Royal Highness, I am Reddik.”

  I freeze. I recognize the sound of his voice.

  “Do I know you?”

  “We haven’t formally met. But yes, My Lady, I was the one back in Kale.”

  “Oh!” An alarm rings in my head. “Oliver! He’s your brother! He was heading back to Kale to help with my escape. Did you see him?” Worry snakes through me, and I can’t control the drumming of my heart.

  Reddik shut his eyes and breathes in deep.

  “He was being chased by a Silent Watcher when I discovered him. He’s been badly injured.”

  I shake my head, fighting back tears.

  “But is he alive? Is he okay?”

  Sadness clouds his features. “He’s alive, but only barely.”

  Relief courses through me.

  “Then we must hurry to him. There is no time to waste.”

  “There’s no use, My Lady. Nothing can save him.”

  “I can.”

  9

  Vera

  “The color of your eyes reminds me of stories I heard as a child.”

  “Really?” We descend the stairs near the Great Hall.

  “Each kingdom was known by the color of their ruler’s eyes, a color passed down from the Guardians themselves. Not very many people now believe it, but they will once they see yours.”

  “The Scree said my gift came from the North. Are Guardian Icewyn’s eyes violet?”

  Bellek purses his lips. “No. Your eyes come from Guardian Pynth.”

  “What are the colors of the other kingdoms?” I ask.

  “Guardian Dryden has light grey, almost white eyes. Guardian Acadia’s are red, and Guardian Icewyn’s are ice blue.”

  I try to imagine a crowd of people with those colors. Would I be around to see all the magic unfold? There are so many other questions I want to ask, but I dare not.

  We finally reach the grand staircase that leads down into the Great Hall. The room is covered in gilded gold, and hundreds of guests are dressed in the brightest of colors. The room’s warm, and the quantity of food and drink could feed a village.

  Music drifts into the air; festive beats have the people dancing. It’s a spectacle that I have to endure once a year with people who couldn’t care less about me.

  Bellek stays a step behind me as we descend into the crowd. A servant hands me a glass of wine. I’ve never tasted wine before, and I drink it quickly. A sweetness, mixed with a bitter tang, coats my tongue. Not sure if I like it, I take another.

  Bellek retrieves it from my hand.

  “Easy, Vera. This wine will knock you off your feet if you’re not careful.” Already a lightness settles over me.

  Walking further in, people begin to recognize me. They stare openly. It’s awkward how they treat me, as if I’m not human. I so badly want to scream at them. But it’s pointless.

  Their unabashed gawking doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always been something to look at but never someone for them to get to know. Some of these people only see me on this one day—a spectacle they pay money for.

  I move past them and observe the dancing. Faces are flush with a giddiness that shows me wine has been flowing freely this night.

  The women’s dresses are beautiful, and complement their smooth skin. It’s a presentation of beauty I’ll never achieve. I hate my flaws.

  The king’s chair at the high table is empty, and the large curtain hanging behind it is peculiar. I’ve never seen it there before. What could he possibly be revealing aside from me?

  “It’s her!”

  A nobleman with a large hooked nose who resembles a bird is pointing at me. His cheeks are red from his drink, and his eyes are bright. He looks me up and down, his mouth curling up in a leer.

  A subtle hum spreads across the surface of my skin. My gift doesn’t seem to enjoy his staring. His lips part to speak, but he remains silent. He knows he can’t make a comment about me—the punishment would be instant death.

  The doors across the room open, revealing the king. The crowd cheers, and I try to hide my disgust for these people who would cheer a man like him.

  Bruce marches in behind him, his eyes roaming over the crowd. The humming over my body intensifies. I allow my gift to touch his heart. His eyes widen. I could kill him now if I so dared.

  The room quiets when they reach the high table. Where’s the Scree? I glance around, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Welcome, councilmen, and people of the court!” Another round of applause goes around. “And welcome, of course, to our dear birthday girl, Vera!”

  Everyone turns to me, clapping as if they care. I know better. King Kgar sweeps out his arms, motioning me to come forward. Leaving Bellek’s side, I saunter my way up next to the king.

  The gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. I know what he visualizes, seeing me in this dress. It’s sickening.

  “You look ravishing, my dear. It’s perfect on this special day, isn’t it? It hurt my feelings that you didn’t share your wonderful news with me. Finding out after others? Tsk, tsk.” He faces the crowd, leaving me feeling uneasy with what is to inevitably come.

  “I’m pleased to announce that our long wait for magic to return has finally ended. Vera has been blessed by the Maker himself. She will now represent our kingdom and bring forth victories in my name.”

  An excited chatter fills the hall. They know their pockets will grow heavier when distant kingdoms are conquered.

  “In honor of this glorious occasion, I’ve planned some entertainment.” The Woman of the Scree comes out from behind the curtain, and releases the drapes.

  There is always that one button that sends me into a blind fury. Zy
rik. Seeing him in a cage dressed as a court jester pushes that button.

  When Zyrik notices the crowd, he curls up in the back of the cage and sticks his thumb in his mouth. I can tell he’s already been crying.

  Anger blazes through me. Glaring at the king, he has the audacity to grin. “You should’ve come to me when you discovered your gift,” he whispers. “This, my dear, is your punishment.”

  He straightens and turns to address the crowd. My heart thumps hard in my chest. “Who here wants to have the king's own jester in their home? We all know what a joke he has been from the moment he was born.”

  The crowd laughs. Everyone knows the king has denounced him as an heir. A weakling, saved by the kidnapped princess—both of them misfits.

  Immediately bids are placed amongst the crowd. The nobleman resembling the bird, laughs and points, raising his hand, playing along with the king’s game.

  My emotions rise and I ignite my gift fully, muting from my ears the sounds of the room. Is this what the king wants? Does he want to humiliate his son in front of me to punish me, or to bring forth my gift? Either way, if he wants a show, I will give it to him.

  An electricity sparks over my body. Unlike before, when I didn’t know what I was doing, I take pause and embrace what the gift guides me to do.

  When those in front see my expression, their smiles fade. But for them it’s too late. With a single thought, I send them to their knees. A unified thud echoes throughout the hall followed by cries and shouts of fury, mixed with fear.

  They look at me, dumbstruck, no longer seeing me as a useless accessory, but as someone who has just brought forth something powerful. A few are even stupid enough to laugh, probably thinking the king has me under control. Oh, how they are wrong.

  I am beyond angry and past the point of caring. Humiliating me is one thing, but doing it to Zyrik is something else entirely—he’s my life. The king steps up behind me. “Kill one. Show me what you can do.”

  I walk down to the bird-like man and force him up with only a thought. His nostrils flare and sweat beads his brow. He’s obviously frightened now that he’s fully aware of what I can do. His eyes plead with me but I push my guilt aside. I have to do this. I wrap my gift around his heart and squeeze it tight—he drops dead to the floor. The crowd screams.

  10

  Livia

  A troop of the Violet Guard is gathered around the back of two large wagons, each bearing a willow emblem. Reddik jumps off his horse but before he can help me, I’m already dismounting. My boots hit the ground and I run towards the center of the men, pushing them aside.

  Stepping past the last man, I see Amah, who has somehow survived, kneeling next to Oliver. He’s lying motionless in a pool of his own blood.

  Reddik brushes past me and kneels at his brother’s side. Amah and I exchange looks; with relief also comes worry. Oliver doesn’t look good. He’s lost so much blood.

  I go to his other side, take the hand that’s covering his wound, and move it gently to his side. The gash is deep.

  I close my eyes, and silence falls. The pulse of my own heartbeat echoes in my ears, but the boy’s pulse is barely thumping. I can feel cold creeping over his body.

  I push my gift over him. Along with his deep wound, his wrist is also broken. I bring the torn pieces of his belly back together first, mending up to the surface of his skin, and smoothing out the jagged edges. The organs are next. Each graze and cut disappears, and lost blood replenishes.

  I turn my attention to his wrist. Without even thinking of how to piece together the shattered bone, my gift whirls around it, putting everything back in place.

  A warmth spreads over me and I open my eyes. Sharp pain greets me, shooting across my head. I try to push it away as Oliver attempts to sit up.

  “Whoa. Easy.” Reddik puts his hand behind Oliver’s back and helps guide him up. He shakes his head in disbelief.

  When I look around, the guards are gawking at me. The magic that has been gone for a century is back. Each and every guard bends his knee and bows his head.

  I sneak a glance to Amah. Her face glows with pride. Unable to hold back the pain any longer, I double over and grab my head.

  “Livia?” I hear the concern in Amah’s voice.

  “My head. The pain. It hurts.”

  I turn away and begin dry heaving, the nausea coming on strong. Why does my body feel as if it has been stomped on? Amah comes to my side. She takes my arm and helps me up. I keep my eyes shut tight.

  “Make way! Let’s get her in the wagon. You! Fetch some water.”

  Someone takes my other arm. “Can’t she heal herself?” It’s Reddik.

  “I don’t know.” Amah replies. “There’s so much we don’t know about her gift.”

  Unable to see or move, I rely on Amah and Reddik’s help with every step. They hoist me into the back of the wagon. A cup is brought to my lips. “En Oli, drink this.”

  The water is cold and refreshing. But it only gives my stomach something to reject. Tears fall down my face. “Amah, what’s wrong with me?”

  A soft blanket covers me and the touch of Amah’s hand is cool against my forehead. “Shh. Relax. Try to guide your gift inside yourself.”

  The floor beneath me wobbles, and I hear the sound of creaking wheels starting into motion. I try to focus, but nothing happens. I place my hands on my head and try again.

  Silence consumes me. The blackness that usually fills the background is now illuminated in gold. Reaching towards it, my body gets warmer. The closer I get, the warmer I become. Soon the warmth is too much but I can’t step back. I hold my breath as a furnace overpowers me. The pain is numbing. When I force air out from my lungs, the hotness dissipates and a violet mist shrouds me, soaking into my skin.

  I open my eyes, and the pain is gone. Darkness surrounds me as I wait for my eyes to adjust. The few minutes I thought it had taken to heal myself must’ve been hours.

  I crawl to the edge of the wagon to the open flap. Small fires litter the darkness, illuminating guards standing watch. Their voices are kept low and I can’t make out their conversations.

  Amah and Reddik stand a distance away. Amah’s arms are crossed, and Reddik shakes his head before walking away. I sigh. The people of Pynth are not ready for Amah’s stubbornness.

  I crawl under the blankets and snuggle against their warming comfort. Soon enough, sleep finds me.

  * * *

  I’m jarred out of sleep. Blinking against the morning light, I realize we’re on the move. I stretch out my arms and yawn. The pain and soreness from yesterday are gone.

  I push my warm blanket away. The air is cold. Moving carefully, I reach for my cloak. When it’s snug around my body, I push back a flap of canvas.

  The Violet Guard ride close behind. They bow their heads to me. Butterflies sweep through me as I duck back inside. Once again the weight of expectation sinks back onto my shoulders.

  The wagon stops and I stumble. Amah sticks her head inside.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Fine.”

  “Hmmph. So you were able to heal yourself after all?”

  “It’s hard to explain, but yes. Where are we?”

  “We are two days from Pynth. If you come out and ride a bit, I can fill you in.” My stomach growls in response. “And your belly.”

  I walk around the wagon and see Rosie. My heart leaps, and I rush to her, stroking her nose. She gently bumps me and I nuzzle against her.

  Amah waits until I mount before handing me dried meat. As I eat the first strip, our company starts moving. Reddik is up front, leading.

  “How did the Violet Guard get here so fast?”

  “Oh, they aren’t here for us.” Amah replies. “They are here for Reddik and his brother. They came to bring them home. Tomorrow our guard should arrive. Which is fine. More protection for you.”

  * * *

  The rest of the day is uneventful. I spend most of my time either riding Rosie, or inside the wagon. Redd
ik checks on us from time to time, but keeps his distance for the most part.

  When evening comes, Amah keeps me inside. She tells me it isn’t proper to sit amongst the guard. Something seems off and it seems like she doesn’t want me talking to anyone.

  The next morning I’m once again riding alongside Amah—alone.

  “I find it strange that no one talks to me. Are they afraid of me?”

  “Don’t be silly. They probably want to give you some space.”

  “Space? I’ve had that my whole life! I would think Regent Grif’s right-hand man would be more welcoming. Especially since I healed his brother, who also isn’t talking to me. It’s just strange.”

  Amah shifts uncomfortably. I know she’s said something to them. I’m only waiting for her to confess. But she doesn’t. And I’m not surprised.

  On all those visits to Kale, no one spoke to me either—besides Annie. It was in those moments I used to pretend I had the Southern Kingdom’s power of invisibility. I sigh. I no longer want to be invisible.

  * * *

  The snow-covered surfaces fade out the closer we get to Pynth; winter is moving slower than our company, but soon it will catch up.

  More of the Violet Guard arrive halfway through the day. It looks as if I will be having my own welcoming procession into Pynth. Inattentively, I watch Reddik up ahead issuing orders, and wonder how he became the Regent’s right-hand man at such a young age. Will he be assigned to me when I become queen?

  He turns and catches me staring. He smiles and waves. Ignoring the rushing warmth to my face, I wave back. By the blessing of Maker Adon, he is handsome.

  He leaves the front and trots towards us.

  “Your Royal Highness, Pynth is just over the horizon. Would you care to join me in front to have your first view of your beautiful city?”

  Without looking to Amah for permission, I reply, “I would love to.”