Frozen Reign

by Kathryn Purdie

  “We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe here,” I promised, though my stomach twisted at the thought of the bounty hunter looming in the woods. Floquart must have offered him a generous reward if he had tracked Genevie across the border. I doubted he would give up his quest so easily.

  The room grew quiet, save for the popping embers in the fireplace. Nadia entered the kitchen and dished herself a bowl of soup, her gaze deftly assessing our somber expressions. She was quicker at picking up emotional cues than I was; she’d dealt with the loss of her abilities longer.

  She sat beside Tosya, giving him a berth of two feet on their bench seat. He shifted another inch away. Face composed, masking any hurt she may have been feeling, she asked Genevie, “Have you told them of the Auraseers in Alaise?” Alaise was on the other side of the Bayac Mountains, the capital city of Estengarde, where the king lived.

  I turned curious eyes on Genevie. “What about them?” My knowledge of Esten Auraseers was limited, but I did know they held no respect among their countrymen. Some were sold as slaves, like Genevie, and others were cast out of society to scrape a living for themselves, unable to marry or receive wages by any legal means. Many ended up living on the streets as prostitutes. Under the empire, Riaznian Auraseers had been given no liberties to speak of, either, but at least we’d been fed, sheltered, and tutored in the convent.

  Genevie sat up taller. Some of the fragility she’d shown seemed to break away, hinting at the strength of a coal-pressed diamond beneath. “I am not the only person who will need sanctuary in this convent.”

  “Some Auraseers are banding together to escape their masters,” Nadia added. “Genevie didn’t act alone.”

  “Four others escaped with me. Two of them should arrive any day. When Floquart’s bounty hunter caught our trail in the mountains, I snuck away in the night and raced ahead to keep my friends out of danger.”

  “What about the other two Auraseers?” I asked.

  Genevie’s lips paled. “Sandrine and Zophie never made it out of Alaise. They were caught and arrested. I fear they have been executed by now.”

  “I hope you and the others didn’t travel all this way to suffer a similar fate,” Tosya said in his frank but gentle way. “Riaznin is at war; the convent may not be a safe place for much longer.”

  Genevie’s brows twitched when he addressed her, but then she exhaled and composed herself. “If Shengli overtakes Riaznin, your Auraseers will be protected. The Shenglin revere the gifted. And if your democracy falls in the civil war, Auraseers will be trained once again to become guardians to the emperor. Que será, será. No matter what fate befalls your nation or whatever war you may lose, my friends are safer here than in Estengarde.”

  “The convent doors are open to any Auraseers.” I touched her arm. “Your friends may take their chances for refuge here. I’m sure Sestra Mirna will welcome them.” To the sestra, all Auraseers were born blessed by the goddess Feya, to whom this convent was dedicated.

  Genevie’s gaze dropped to her spoon. She stirred her soup in a slow circle. Was she feeling shy or nervous? “I didn’t expect to find you here, Sovereign Auraseer.” Her autumn-brown eyes warmed as she looked up at me. “We have stories of Auraseers like you in Estengarde—les grandes voyantes, we call them—but until I met you, I thought they were myth.”

  The nape of my neck prickled. How could she know about the power I once possessed to alter other people’s emotions? It was a carefully guarded secret, known to only a few, so I wouldn’t be exploited for my abilities.

  When I said nothing, only stared at her with parted lips, she explained, “On the night of the ball, I felt more than your pain when the emperor hurt you. I felt you change inside and grow stronger. I felt you change him—his aura—so he stopped hurting you. Later, I learned how Emperor Valko gave up his throne to offer freedom to his people. That went against all his attributes. So I believed—I hoped—you played a role in overthrowing him.” Her mouth curved a little, the first time I’d seen her smile. It transformed her countenance and brought life to her eyes. “You inspired me. You have inspired so many Auraseers in Alaise.”

  Tosya grinned and jostled my leg under the table, but I felt numb, even to my own emotions. “You told them about me?” I asked Genevie. Already two Auraseers had been executed, likely because of my so-called inspiration.

  “You have helped us see we deserve better,” she replied. “We will not find freedom in Estengarde, but we can escape and wish for it here. Nous essayons.” She shrugged. “At least that is what several of us are trying to do.”

  I held my breath. “How many Auraseers are you talking about?”

  Her eyes drifted over the table as she mentally calculated. “Close to twelve. But maybe they will encourage more. Your story is powerful.”

  “But I’m not.” My heart thudded painfully in my chest, my numbness shattering. “Not anymore.” Genevie knew what I was now. She felt it, the void in me, the wall I couldn’t break down around myself. Auraseers in Estengarde were endangering themselves because a grande voyante—I—gave them hope. I felt responsible to protect them, just like I was desperate to protect Dasha from Valko, and Kira from the dangers in Torchev. But how could I?

  “Nadia says you were shot and almost killed.” Genevie bit her lip, rubbing the splintering stem of her wood spoon. “Tu pourrais toujours guérir. Maybe . . . you will heal.”

  Her voice was gentle, but it struck with the force of gunpowder. For months, no one but myself had expressed any faith that I would recover. Now, hearing someone else say the words, I realized how false and empty they were, how unalterably wounded I was. I stood, feeling a sudden urge to escape her expectant gaze. “Would you please excuse me? I promised Tosya I would take him on a walk to see the convent grounds.” I’d done no such thing, but I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Tosya was safe company.

  He blinked, his spoon frozen on its journey to his mouth. “In the dark?” Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten the bounty hunter.

  “The moon is bright, and the guards are out. Sestra Mirna has seen to that. Shall we?”

  “Um . . . all right.”

  Tosya strolled beside me, his hands in his pockets. His toes kicked the occasional pebble as I guided him along the path encircling the convent. The moon was almost full and gave us the light I’d promised. My guard eased up regarding the bounty hunter. I felt safe in the company of Tosya, pacifist or not. Besides, two soldiers were in sight, walking the grounds on patrol.

  A racking cough came from the hospital tent, but from where we stood, the dreary smell of antiseptics didn’t reach us. I breathed in the earthen, decaying fragrance of the forest in its first turn of autumn.

  “All this is new,” I said, pointing to the rebuilt east wing of the convent. “A bell tower used to be up there. The girls said it was haunted because Auraseers had been hung from its rafters. That was before Sestra Mirna’s time, back when Auraseers were punished by death when they refused to serve the Ozerov emperors.” I tilted my head up and gazed longingly. “But I loved the bell tower.”

  “You were always one to be drawn to scenes of morbid tragedy.”

  I gave Tosya a one-handed shove, and he chuckled. “Yuliya and I would sneak up there,” I said, “and no one would bother us. We could see all the way to the Ilvinov Ocean. It reminded me of that story from your book of folktales.”

  “The Golden Fish?”

  “No, The Sea King and Vasilisa the Wise.”

  Tosya peered up at the spot where the bell tower used to be, and then burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” I grinned, even though I didn’t know what had set him off.

  “Of course you would like that story—Vasilisa kills the sea king and rescues the prince. It was self-prophecy, you reading that.”

  “I hope not.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “That version left out the part where the sea king resurrects himself, Vasilisa loses her magic, and the prince is left to fight his demons with
out her help.”

  “A rather depressing twist.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  We shuffled along the path. The air grew cooler, and the wistful song of a nightingale rose on the breeze. “So it’s really gone, then, your power?” Tosya asked. “You feel absolutely nothing? Not a spark of my winning charm or intolerable vanity dancing through your veins?”

  “Not even your irritating intelligence.”

  Tosya smiled, then rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, Genevie is right—your story is inspiring. It doesn’t matter that your power is gone. What you did for the revolution while you had power was enough. It’s giving these Esten Auraseers hope. It could give many people hope.”

  I contemplated him. I’d once wished to be recognized for the role I played in Valko’s abdication. I’d wanted to be seen as someone important like Anton, a prince turned governor, or Tosya, the poet who penned the poem that sparked the revolution. Now all I wanted was to be useful, no matter who knew. “I don’t want to give people hope if I can’t do anything more to help them.”

  “Do you really miss your abilities? You never wanted to be an Auraseer, much less one who could feel the dead and overpower another person’s emotions.”

  “That was like wishing I didn’t exist.”

  “Well, what if I could never write a poem again?”

  “Then you’d know how I feel.”

  “And I would still be Tosya. Or is that all I am to you, a poet?”

  I folded my arms, resistant to what he was driving at. I would never be satisfied with myself this way. A person couldn’t be made whole from broken, missing pieces. “What I miss most is simply feeling what others around me feel. I’m blind without that.” I could do without the stronger gift I once had, although it was what I needed most to save Dasha. “If I could at least sense aura, then I could feel danger coming. I could protect the convent, maybe even track Valko.” Whether I’d wanted to or not, I’d always felt his aura stronger than any others, a beacon of darkness.

  Tosya laid a hand on my shoulder. “You are more than an Auraseer, Sonya.”

  “What if I don’t want to be?” My voice carried on a frail thread of air, thin as spider silk. “How can I help anyone now?”

  “Do you think the Esten Auraseers will care if you’ve lost your abilities? What they want is a new start, a life of their own choosing. You can help them find it here. That can be your new start, as well.”

  I cast my gaze at the convent. I had no intention to remain here forever. After these wars ended, I still hoped for a life with Anton in Torchev.

  If the wars ever ended. If Anton still loved me.

  “Of course I’ll help them. But if you start calling me Sestra Sonya, I might slug you.”

  Tosya chuckled and draped a lanky arm around me. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Sestra Sonya.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “DO YOU EVER REGRET YOUR VOWS TO FEYA?” I ASKED SESTRA Mirna the next day as we slowly climbed the staircase in the west wing. Nadia had taken over for her in the hospital tent, and I’d insisted on walking her to her bedchamber to make sure she finally lay down to rest. She probably hadn’t slept last night, like she said she would. She still looked bone-weary and pale.

  She came to a sudden stop halfway up the steep flight, her back hunched as she gripped the railing and coughed, panting for breath.

  “Are you all right?” I reached out to support her. She was getting too old for all these stairs. I needed to talk to Nadia about moving her into one of the vacant rooms on the ground floor.

  The wrinkles between her brows cut into two deep slashes as she turned her head to me. Was she hurting, as well as struggling to breathe? “That is not something an Auraseer should ever ask a sestra,” she said, disregarding my last question.

  Oh. She was angry.

  “I’m sorry.” Heat prickled to my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” I was still learning all the etiquette of the convent. I hadn’t lived here most of my life, like Nadia. “I only wondered why you chose to dedicate your life to serving Auraseers. I should have phrased it that way.”

  Sestra Mirna released a rattling sigh, and her forehead smoothed to its usual canvas of careworn lines. She returned her gaze to the rest of the daunting flight ahead of us and started climbing again, one painstaking step at a time. “I suppose when life closes enough doors on you, your feet take you to where one last door remains open. You either walk inside or walk an endless path of misery.”

  I frowned. That sounded like a harsh ultimatum. “Those are the only two choices?”

  “For me they were.”

  I looked askance at her and studied the map of wrinkles on her face, wondering what hard experiences in her life had wrought each crease and furrow. Had they been anything like mine? “How will I know, then?”

  “Know what?”

  “When I’ve come to my last open door?” My voice betrayed a tremble of desperation.

  Three stairs from the landing, Sestra Mirna paused again, this time to look at me. Her weary eyes warmed, and for a moment, I pictured her younger and vibrant and beautiful. “You will know, Sonya. Trust me. Crossing that threshold will take every last measure of your courage and fierce desire to fight.” She reached up and took my face in one of her firm and weathered hands. “So stay courageous, my child. Stay strong.”

  It seemed like she was asking me to promise her something, and the look in her fervent gaze made that request feel urgent, though I couldn’t say why. So I drew up taller and answered, “I will.” She patted my cheek and climbed onward.

  Her words stayed with me long after I’d helped her to her room and baked bread in the kitchen and boiled more herb water for the soldiers. They stayed with me while I went to check on Genevie in the upstairs study hall.

  The pleats of her simple green dress swayed as she paced near the window, where she kept watch for her two Auraseer friends to arrive. This room offered the clearest vantage of the front grounds and the road beyond.

  As I walked to her, I paused at the two desks my best friend, Yuliya, and I had often sat at. They still remained side by side. In the hidden recess beneath my old inkwell, I’d scratched my name. On her desk, in the same spot, Yuliya had etched a primrose bouquet. A lump formed in my throat. I promised myself I’d lay more flowers on Yuliya’s grave.

  “Would you like something to eat?” I asked Genevie, pushing away from the desks and wiping my hands on my apron.

  “No, merci.” She leaned on the window ledge as she gazed outside. Her auburn hair gleamed red in the sunlight. Another reminder of Yuliya, whose hair had been ginger.

  “Can you sense anything yet?”

  Genevie shook her head.

  “How far can you sense?” When I’d had my power, my range of awareness was long—I could have felt aura from here to the first few trees in the forest—but no other Auraseer I knew of besides Dasha had abilities that strong.

  She pursed her lips. “To the end of a large room, like the palace ballroom in Torchev, if I concentrate.”

  That wouldn’t help us much if the bounty hunter was prowling nearby. “Maybe you can learn to cast your awareness wider. I could teach you.”

  “J’en doute. I trained under Madame Perle, the personal Auraseer to the king. My abilities are as refined as they will ever be.” She smiled gently—whether to humor me or put me in my place, I didn’t know. “Not all of us are special like you.”

  I laughed. The sound rang so falsely in my ears. “I’m not special. Not anymore.”

  She turned to study me. In her eyes, I saw Yuliya’s gentility and Pia’s brightness. Genevie couldn’t replace them—I wouldn’t want her to—but maybe I had room in my heart for one more friend. “Où est-ce?” she said, her brow wrinkling. “It has to be there. You could not be alive without aura.” She came over and squeezed my hand with a light but steady pressure. “Do not worry, Sonya. We will find a way to help your aura breathe.”

  “How?” I asked,
both skeptical and curious. I’d tried just about everything. Nadia and I even brewed a strong batch of relaxing herbs several weeks ago, hoping they would reconnect us to our deepest senses, but they only made us sick.

  “I don’t know.” She tilted her head and sighed. “If only you could meet Madame Perle. She has a rare talent.”

  “Rare?” I frowned at her. “How rare? Like mine and Dasha’s?” The thought of someone else with our abilities sent my heart pounding—not out of kinship, but fear.

  “Madame Perle has a different power. She can feel so deeply into another person’s aura that she falls into a trance, a state of meditation that allows her to sense the emotions of memories that person may have forgotten.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, openly staring at Genevie. I’d never heard of such a gift in an Auraseer.

  “Perhaps you are . . . refouler”—she tried to think of the right word—“suppressing some deep emotions, and that is why your aura is hiding. Maybe they are attached to your buried memories.” She crossed her arms. “What is the earliest thing you remember as a child?”

  “The flagstones in my parents’ garden.”

  “How old were you?”

  I shrugged. “Five or six.”

  “That is late for a first memory. What about your parents? What memories do you have of them?”

  “None, but that’s because they sent me to live with the Romska for my safety.”

  “At what age?”

  “Seven.”

  “Your memories become vivid after that?”

  I slid my hands behind my back. “Is that really so unusual?”

  She nodded, her brows raised. “Did you know a child’s . . .” She cast about for the right word. “Personnalité?”

  “Personality?”

  “Yes.” She grinned, amused at how the two words were almost identical. “A child’s personality is established by age six. Think of all you have forgotten before then that made you you.”

  I considered her. Maybe she was onto something. Being separated from my parents at such a young age must have been traumatic. Had I blocked my childhood memories to protect my heart? What if I’d also unwittingly blocked my aura in order to protect myself? The two incidents might be connected. “You really believe this Madame Perle can help me? Wouldn’t I have to emit my aura in order for her to sense it?”