His words were nearly a physical blow to her heart. He was right. It was exactly the kind of thing he would have done. Set your enemy up where it causes the most harm and then watch them fall while you laugh—only Kayla wasn’t laughing.
As a matter of fact, she was surprised to realize there were tears coursing down her cheeks. She wiped them away with an angry fist and wound her way through the buzzing crowd toward the stairs that led to her room. She was no longer hungry in the least. Her stomach was too full of acid and guilt.
A single person began to applaud. Kayla stopped just before the stairs and slowly turned. That one person turned into three, then three into ten, and before long the entire room was applauding and whistling nearly as much as they had when she played that morning.
People moved aside to form a path. Brant pushed his way through, still applauding, until he stopped just in front of her and let his hands rest with a final clap. He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then took her in his arms and kissed her soundly in front of the entire room. Kayla stiffened at first, very aware of the faces gaping around her, but within seconds she was as involved in his kiss as she had been that afternoon. It was as good as an announcement of their engagement. The room erupted into even louder cheers, if that were possible.
Brant pulled away, still cradling her in his arms, and shouted into her evahn ears, the room was so loud. “I’m proud of you, Kay. That took a lot of guts.”
“Yes, it did,” an unexpected voice came from the doorway, though how he’d heard Brant, Kayla didn’t know.
It was King Rojan.
The room quieted and dropped immediately into deep bows and curtsies as he passed. The king ignored them and crossed the room to grip Kayla’s arms.
“You have proven yourself tonight even better than I imagined you could. You’ve earned the right to a title, young or old. Kayla Kalandra Felandian, I hereby declare thee Duchess of Driane, with all the rights and responsibilities inherent therein. That should do for now.” The king grinned boyishly. "Driane’s been abandoned for quite a while, so you’re going to have some serious clean-up to do. Some of the businesses have been running under the stewardship of the kingdom, so I’ll hand those back to you. You’d better find a steward pretty quickly, child, or running a castle is going to overwhelm you.”
Kayla was astonished. It was everything she had ever wanted. A title, prestige for her family and herself once more, and to be wed to the one man in her life who had truly accepted her for who she was. What more could she ask? “Thank you, Your Highness,” she said, her mind still spinning. He bowed to her before turning his back and walking away. Brant immediately took her in his arms once more and hugged her tight, the crowd roaring around them.
The question echoed through Kayla’s head for the next hour as everyone wanted to be near and congratulate her. What more could she ask?
And yet . . . her heart still lay full of longing as she thought of the silken length of the Sapphire Flute. Why could she not play it? How could C’Tan hear a flute played from distant lands, or maybe even across oceans from where she was? It did not seem possible, and yet King Rojan had explicitly told her not to play it.
Once all the congratulations had been given, Kayla found herself back in her room, caressing the Sapphire Flute and wondering what it would feel like to play it, just once. A single note couldn’t hurt anything, could it?
The instrument seemed to rise of itself to her lips. She just wanted to feel it there and know what it would be like to play it.
She blew softly. There was no sound, but Kayla felt the power in the air just with the vibration her wind caused. It thrilled her in a way even Brant’s kisses could not. Her entire body ached with the need to play the glorious tones this flute could produce, and yet . . . she could not. Kayla hung her head and reluctantly lowered the instrument from her lips. She might not understand the king’s reasons, but still he was her king, and she dared not jeopardize everything she’d worked so hard for. She would bow to his wishes—for now.
She laid the flute back in its wooden case, then buried it deep within her feather mattress for safekeeping. She knew if she carried it around, someone would entice her to play, and she would give in much too easily.
She quickly undressed and hung her new gown, intent only on one thing—knowing the flute was safe beneath her as she slept.
CHAPTER NINE
Ember dashed at the tears that hadn’t stopped since she stepped out of the house and left her sobbing mother behind. She had fully expected Marda to throw open the door and chase after her, had hoped for it even, but she never came.
As the ash turned to gray mud falling from the heavens, Ember drew in a deep breath and darted across the field to the warm comfort of the barn, more grateful than ever for Ezeker’s weather charm. The mage lights came up as soon as she entered, the twins having respelled them when they cast their own magelights over the field. She stopped for a moment to blink away the light blindness after the almost pitch-dark of the ash and rain-filled sky.
Brownie whickered as Ember drew near to the dark mare that had been her favorite for so long. “Hey, girl,” she said as she stroked the horse’s neck. “How about a ride? You feel up to that, huh?” The mare nodded as if she understood. Sometimes Ember thought she just might.
Ember’s saddle was at the back of the barn resting on an old sawhorse. Reins and lead ropes hung in loops on the wall above. Ember took down the reins and threw the saddle over her shoulder before she turned back to Brownie. She had tightened the belly strap on the mare when the barn door swung open again. Ember tensed for a moment, unsure now if she wanted to see her mother, if it meant she would try to stop her from going to the trials. But it wasn’t Marda.
Aldarin stepped into the warmth of the light, a satchel under his arm and a bag in his hand. He didn’t say a word—just went to the back of the barn and returned with a saddlebag he packed as he walked. He threw the satchel over Brownie’s rump and strapped it on, then turned and gathered Ember in his arms. “That took a lot of guts,” he whispered. “You’re doing the right thing.” Ember burst into tears again. She couldn’t help it. Much as she and her mother disagreed and fought, she did love her, and it was tearing Ember apart to know how much she’d just hurt her. “I had to do it, didn’t I?” she asked her stepbrother. “Do you think she’ll ever understand?”
“Shhh,” he whispered, rubbing her back. “She’ll get over it. Let it go. You did what you had to—though when I told you to take control of your life, I never expected you to do it in such a grand manner.”
Ember laughed and pulled away from Aldarin. She sniffed, then wiped at her cheeks. Aldarin smiled, took her face in his hands, and kissed her forehead. “I’m proud of you, Sis. Now get out of here. Ezeker is expecting you.”
“What? How could he know I’d be coming tonight?”
“I told him. Just now.” Aldarin tucked some small foodstuffs in the saddlebag and buckled it, then laced his fingers together and bent forward to give her a boost up.
Ember didn’t move. “How?”
Aldarin gave her a lopsided grin. “I’ve got my ways.”
She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t worth the time it would take to discover his secrets. She placed her foot in his open hands and heaved herself into the saddle. She looked down to see his hand outstretched, holding a piece of white parchment. She took it, recognizing the scrawl on the front. It was the note Paeder had given her.
“Paeder wanted to make sure you read that before you left. I packed the rest of your gifts in the saddlebag and put some travel food and apple pudding in there, too.” He gave her leg one more pat, then turned to go. He jumped back, startled, as Tiva ran in, nearly colliding with him.
“Father’s bad, Marda needs you, can you call Ezeker?” He burst it all out in one breath, his eyes wide.
Ember moved to get down from the horse, but Aldarin turned with an outstretched hand.
“No, Ember. Now is your chance. There’s n
othing you can do, and you might miss your opportunity to get to the trials. Go.”
“But—”
“No buts, Sis. Go.”
Ember couldn’t decide which part of her heart to listen to—the one that told her to help her stepfather, or the one that longed for the mage trials. Aldarin made her mind up for her when he slid the barn door open wide and pointed.
Ember chewed at her lip before giving Aldarin one brief nod. He waved and left the barn with Tiva almost as quickly as the twin had come, the side door still open and swinging in the wind. Murky gray rain spattered the hay in the entryway as Ember readied herself to go. She went to tuck the envelope in her breast pocket, but thought better of it. She held it in front of her for a long second, broke the seal, and began to read.
"My dearest Ember,
I know you have loved Brownie since the night you helped me bring her into the world, and I believe she loves you every bit as much. If I know you as well as I think I do, you will not let your mother dictate your life and will be soon heading for the mage trials. Go with my blessing and love. As sick as I am, I wanted to give you a gift, a legacy that you can call your own, and perhaps remember me fondly in the process. Brownie and Diamond Girl are yours. Contained within this letter are the papers naming you their owner. Keep them safe.
Please keep in touch, daughter, and I hope that I may call you that, for daughter of my heart you are. I know that I cannot take the place of your father, but I hope I have been a father of sorts to you. I do love you, child, with all my heart, and probably even a little more than some of my rascally sons, though please don’t tell them I said so. Marda has consented to take me to see the Mage Council, and I do not know if I shall see you again, though I hope it may be so. If not, at least I can go to my grave knowing I have been loved by three of the greatest of women, and have created three of the finest of sons. If indeed you do come to the mage trials, find me. I would like to see you again before I die.
If anyone can become a mage by force of will alone, Ember, it will be you. I pray for your success so your mother might at last see you for the brilliant star you are.
Eternally my love,
Your ‘other’ Da"
Ember was in tears again by the time she reached the end of the letter. She’d always known Paeder was a good man; she’d just never known how much that affected her personally until now. She hoped and prayed she’d have the chance to see him again and tell him how much his letter meant to her.
For the first time in her life, she felt like she had a real father, and couldn’t stand to think of losing him so soon.
Ember wiped at her tears again, tucked the papers in her pocket for safekeeping, and gave Brownie a nudge. She didn’t need Diamond Girl right now, but she’d return the first moment she could to collect her inheritance. She tried not to think on Paeder’s illness and instead let her thoughts settle on his kindness and goodness.
Fortified by his love, Ember nudged Brownie forward. The horse willingly stepped through the barn door and into the muddy rain.
The high road wasn’t three minutes from Ember’s home, and she reached it quickly, even in the dark. The magelights that lined the highway still weren’t working, though whether they had been covered by mud or if the fluctuating energy from the volcano had taken them out, she didn’t know. It was darker than she’d ever seen it—so dark she could barely see the trees that edged the road.
She walked Brownie slowly for several minutes down the highway. The weather charm would keep her dry, but it certainly wouldn’t prevent a broken leg or cracked head if they slipped and fell.
Ember glanced at the shadows along the edges of the road and shivered. Her imagination summoned up all kinds of monsters that could attack her from the dark, and she had to fight the urge to nudge Brownie into a run. She just wanted to be safe in Ezeker’s tower until morning.
Lost in her thoughts, Ember nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice hailed her from the darkness.
“Ho, the road! Would you be willing to help a traveler out? I’m looking for Horsemaster Paeder’s farm. Might you know where I could find it? I can’t see a thing in this weather.”
Ember got her heart rate under control and chuckled nervously.
“Yes, sir, you’re almost there, though I must warn you, he’s quite ill. I’m not sure he’d be up to a visitor tonight.”
“Pity, that. Might you know if he’s got a girl there, a brunette, about fifteen or sixteen seasons?”
“Why do you ask, sir?” Her heart started to race again. Why would a stranger be looking for her? Had C’Tan found her already? “I don’t recollect any girls there, sir. What did you say her name was?”
The stranger chuckled, a low menacing sound that sent ice up Ember’s spine. “I didn’t, but judging by the fear coming off you, I’d say you’re lying through your straight little teeth. Oh, yes, I can see them. Hello, Shandae. Your aunt sends her greetings.”
Ember had just enough time to register his words, to realize the relationship Aldarin had implied earlier, that C’Tan was her aunt, before a sharp pain in the back of her head sent blackness to envelop her completely.
She awoke to a splitting head and the smell of roasting meat. The snap of the fire and the pitterpat of rain echoed through her head with devastating effect. She wanted to moan with the pain, but held herself still, cracking her eyes open enough to see she was in a cave. A man crouched before a campfire with what looked like a skewered rabbit held over the flame. He was completely bald, though fairly young, and his muscles bulged almost grotesquely. The man was huge, nearly a freak of nature. She examined him closely for several moments but didn’t move, not wanting to draw attention to herself. He said nothing, then caught her eyes with his own. They were an icy blue, so light as to be almost white.
Somehow he had known she was awake.
He spoke, his voice startling her into a jump. “Get a good looksee?” He chuckled. “I thank you for your kind gifts.” The man fingered the weather charm that now lay over his neck. “The sky doesn’t rain mud where I come from. It was getting rather annoying. Of course, the sky doesn’t send out much of anything there.” The man’s grin was toothy and too big for his face, much like that of a cat taunting its prey. “The horse will be a nice addition as well. Poor Neemus was getting a little worn out from all the travel.” Ember glanced past his bald head to see Brownie staked to the ground just outside the small cave.
She had no idea where she was. The hills surrounding Karsholm were dotted with caves, she knew, as she’d explored a good many of them with her stepbrothers over the years, but this one was unfamiliar.
Ember didn’t say anything. She tried to sit up, but couldn’t move. Her hands and feet were shackled in front of her and staked to the ground just like her horse, though how the man had put a stake in the rocky ground of a cave, she didn’t know. She lay in a puddle, just far enough away from the fire to be cold. She shivered.
The man noticed and grinned his toothy grin once more. “Get used to it—you’re not going anywhere. The mistress wants to see you. She’s been looking for you a very long time.” He glanced at her hands. “You’re a little young for tattoos, aren’t you? I thought that was a Ketahean tradition. I’ve not seen many around here.” Ember didn’t answer. She wouldn’t have if she could, but at the moment, her heart raced, her fear thick and choking.
The big man snorted and rolled his eyes at her, obviously amused by her stubborn silence. It only made her mad. She struggled against the chains that held her fast, but she was stuck good and solid. If only she could change the metal like she had changed her dress, maybe she could escape. She closed her eyes and concentrated. The image of chain turning to water was so brilliant in her mind, she could almost feel it happening. There was a build-up, a burning in her hands where the cuffs had become one with her skin, but just as she felt something was about to happen, the power trickled away to nothing—like a hole in a bucket.
The bald man chuckled, a ver
y satisfied, smirky sound that set Ember’s teeth on edge. “It won’t work, Shandae. The chains are spelled.”
“How do you know my name? And who are you?”
The man shrugged. “Name’s Ian. Been looking for you for a long time. We knew who you were, but not who you’d become. It wasn’t until this afternoon that I finally zeroed in on Karsholm. You finally came into your power, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and it chilled Ember’s stomach that he knew so much about her. She’d escaped notice all these years, and now Ian just happened to be close enough to sense the change when it came. Couldn’t it have waited just one day? One more day and she would have been with Ezeker, one of the most powerful mages in the country, safe on the road to Javak, surrounded by an armed guard. One day more and she could have seen her dream fulfilled of reaching the mage trials.
Instead she had the bitter taste of defeat.
Ember let her head relax against the ground, wishing with all her heart she could just melt into it, disappear as if she’d never been. Suddenly the cold stone grasped Ember’s ear as if it had sunk into mud, and she gasped, jerking upright, or at least as upright as she could with the chains holding her down. They dug painfully at her wrists.
Ian looked at her and quirked an eyebrow, turning his rabbit in the fire. Hot grease dripped to sizzle in the flames. A log popped as he spoke. “What, a mousie get you? Afraid of the dark? I’d have thought the wolfchild would be a better opponent than this. The Guardians sure didn’t choose well this time around, now, did they?”
He continued to chuckle to himself as Ember digested this new information. Wolfchild? Guardians? At least he hadn’t realized why she had really gasped. She could live with him thinking she was afraid of mice.
For the first time since she’d awakened, Ember felt a small flicker of hope. She hadn’t been able to affect the chain, but she had been able to affect her own body by wishing she could disappear. She didn’t dare sink into the stone entirely—it might never let her go, but if she could change such a small thing as her ear to penetrate the ground, perhaps she could change herself enough to get away from this man.
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