by Cora Carmack
“You think that possible?”
Aurora shrugged. “I do not even know if there is a next life. I only know that these spirits are stuck here, and they should not be.”
“Have you thought…” Kiran hesitated, unsure how she would react, then decided not to censor himself with her. “Have you thought about whether you would ever take another storm? Like with the skyfire?”
Aurora swallowed. “If you had asked me a few weeks ago, I would have been outraged that you even asked. It would have been a firm no. I still want the answer to be a no. But…” She sighed. “But … things are complicated, and compromises have to be made. I cannot expect everyone else to fight a war, while I stay clean. I—I do not know.”
He squeezed her hand. “You do not have to know. We can take things one step at a time. On every front.”
He regretted the turn down which his questions had taken the conversation, for she was somber as they arrived at the area where they worked. Like all the days before, he set out their supplies. He had learned to let her take her time. In truth, he could barely even call what he was doing hunting.
So far, most of the storms she had conjured had remained calm, not at all like the predatory tempests to which he was accustomed. Often, Aurora was even able to direct the spirit toward him and asked it to remain still while he collected magic, then she would send it off to gallivant on its own for a bit, before drawing it back in for the next collection. It was more like corralling a distracted child than a storm.
But he was not complaining.
Aurora was nothing short of resplendent while she worked her magic. Whatever emotion she was feeling, she radiated it outward like she was her own sun. Most of the time, she was happy, which made him feel like he was always just shy of bursting. But in the beginning, when she first connected with a spirit, she was often forlorn. The grief rolled off her in drifts that made him feel like he was back in the freezing river again, fighting not to drown.
Today she laid a hand comfortably on his back as she bent to look over the Stormheart options. They had already collected a fair amount of wind, rain, and skyfire. All their options from here on out were decidedly less simple. She knelt, running her fingers first over the smooth, shiny black of the twister Stormheart. He glanced around, thinking they might need to find a larger open area if they were going to try for twisters today. The water put them at too much of a disadvantage.
But then her fingers left that heart, brushing past a few more before touching the crystalline red shard of a firestorm heart. In truth, they did not need firestorm magic. They needed firestorm hearts to help when natural firestorms hit, but he was not sure how she would feel about providing them, considering it would mean the destruction of the souls she called.
She wavered, her fingers drifting over to the gray fog Stormheart that lay next in line. His stomach clenched. He knew they would have to do the fog eventually, but that did not mean he was eager for the moment. He did not have a fog Stormheart of his own; this one belonged to Duke. But they had only enough powder left for one use, so he would have this one day to collect as much magic as possible. This though was another storm where they needed hearts as badly as they needed the magic, so they could grind them down into more powder. So he would also finally have to face his fear and take the heart of a fog storm, even if the mental invasion it would take made him uneasy.
He saw the knowledge of what had to be done in Aurora’s face when she looked up at him, her expression torn.
“I know you do not want to,” he murmured. “But perhaps there is a compromise. You can call any soul you like. You do not have to choose the ones with redeeming qualities. Instead, maybe you could use one of the darker souls. I know you hate them, but if I took the heart of one of those storms, it is one less malevolent spirit out there for the Stormlord to use.”
“That is true. But … I am not sure I will have as much control over the spirit. You will have to be careful.”
“I am a hunter, love. Careful comes with the territory,” he said, chucking her under the chin with his knuckles, determined not to show any of his nerves.
She took a deep breath and said, “Okay. But we will go with fog, then. I am not risking a firestorm breaking free from my hold on my first try.”
They split the fog powder they had left on hand, giving each of them as much immunity from the storm’s mind-altering magic as possible. Then they prepared for battle.
This time was different from all the ones that came before. As Aurora closed her eyes and began to wander away from him into whatever world it was that she felt and saw that he could not, she had none of the calm, peaceful demeanor she normally had. Her shoulders were stiff, and her fists clenched. A sweat broke out on her forehead within minutes, and instead of the grief or pity or compassion he was used to seeing as she drew a soul toward herself, her expression tightened into a grimace, her nose wrinkling up in what he could only guess was disgust.
He watched her struggle, and he nearly called the whole thing off. He had come to love the way she looked when she was using magic—ethereal and effervescent and everything that was good in this world. But this … this was not like that. As she gritted her teeth, a tingle of magic began to spread through the atmosphere. It felt … tainted. The air turned thick and sticky, like he was breathing in tar, and even though it was morning, a dark gloom seemed to shadow the sun long before any storm ever took shape.
Then, he saw it. Like creeping fingers bursting from a shallow grave, long tendrils of a dense, milky-white fog had begun to extend from the woods around them. He looked to Aurora, whose face had gone red with the effort of control she was exerting, and knew it was his turn now.
Kiran marched forward, prepared to meet the sinister storm halfway.
* * *
Aurora was shaking. Her attention was split between controlling the storm itself, lest it decide to turn in another direction and seek out others for destruction, and maintaining the integrity of herself. Those boundaries Sly had told her about, they had become more and more clear over recent days as she worked through her own emotions alongside the souls she helped. She had presented each of her calls to the souls as an opportunity for cleansing, the chance to break free from the emotions that bound them here. But the experiences had been cleansing for her too. Each time, she poured out the emotions she had been holding onto as well, letting go of old hurts, long-held guilt, and unspoken fears. And each time she had repeated the process, the edges of her own soul had become more defined.
They were not always pretty. She had her ripped and tattered places, the rocky spots where it was only safe for her to tread, but by being honest with herself, those things had lost some of the power they once had, giving her more of the control she needed.
And she was glad for it today, because she was not sure she could have touched this soul, brought it so close to her own, before now. It twisted and writhed under her care, either trying to break free or latch onto her like a leech. It was a delicate balance to keep it close, but not so close that it could permeate her own thoughts and desires.
She felt the moment that Kiran entered the fog, because the storm surged with fury at its inability to affect him. As if it knew she was somehow to blame, it turned all its attention on her instead, pummeling at the barrier of her mind. It swarmed her, clenching around her, gouging at any perceived weak spots, trying to force itself into the space that was only her.
Her jaw dropped in a gasp, but she struggled to lift her chest enough to actually draw in air. She had tried to choose a spirit that was corrupted, but not necessarily the most dangerous option. It appeared she had underestimated the soul’s determination to cause harm. But as long as its attention was focused on her, that should make Kiran’s task easier. A soul divided would be easier for him to defeat.
She concentrated on all the things she had gained of late—she had her confidence back, her mother was safe, she and Kiran had repaired their relationship, she knew more of her magic th
an she would have thought possible a few months ago. Skies, she had magic. That alone was more than she could have dreamed a few years ago. She was not just Princess Aurora. Nor was she the hunter Roar, who had lied to her friends. She was someone completely different who had taken all of those experiences and come out the other side whole and better, and she would keep doing that, no matter what this world threw at her.
The storm’s assault suddenly halted, and she felt a smoldering scream of rage tear through her mind. Aurora was finally able to draw in a much-needed breath, and she knew the real fight had begun—Kiran had gone for the storm’s heart.
All the pressure that had been slowly crushing closer and closer disappeared, leaving her dizzy at the change. She opened her eyes to find the clearing completely immersed in fog. She lifted her hand, noting that it disappeared as soon as her arm stretched to its full length. She knew the water was to her left, but she could no longer see it. Kiran was somewhere up ahead. She felt the intensity of his soul, determined and strong. Unlike their night in the desert, she was not afraid this time. He was winning this fight, and she knew it. It was only a matter of time before the fog surrendered its heart.
She was focused so intensely on the battle, on Kiran’s nearing victory, that she stopped paying attention to the rest of her surroundings. It was too late to do anything by the time she felt a presence at her back, one whose soul was complex and large and knit together from mismatched pieces like a patchwork quilt.
A hand clamped over her mouth, jerking her back hard enough to lose her footing. Another arm wound around her, constricting her movements, and hot breath invaded her ear.
She shuddered as a low, male voice said, “Come easily, or I will call another storm for your friend while he is distracted. What do you think will happen then? He will either die by my storm or lose focus and die by yours.”
Aurora’s heart crumpled, sinking somewhere into her stomach. Then she did the only thing she could do. Aurora nodded her agreement, and she let the Stormlord take her.
The waters continued to creep higher—claiming more of the city, more innocent lives, and the last vestiges of Finn’s faith in his uncle. The king continued to withdraw, leaving more and more of the fight to the soldiers who were too tired to hold the storms at bay. Finneus could not watch the slow destruction of his home for another moment. That night he began recruiting for his mission. He would save Calibah, or he would die trying.
—The Tale of Lord Finneus Wolfram
19
The door to Nova and Jinx’s room flew open without warning. That was how it always was, even for meals; the soldiers made a point of showing them that they could never get too comfortable here, even if their prince had ordered the girls be fed and treated with a modicum of respect.
Luckily, they only did their dangerous work at night, practicing with Nova’s magic, which more often than not left the two of them huddled close in one of the four beds in the room. Neither of them spoke about their tendency to sleep in the same bed after a round of practice. It did not happen every night, but when it did, they fell into the same routines without fail.
But today they were on opposite sides of the room when the door swung open—Jinx doing complicated stretches that she did every morning, and Nova watching her surreptitiously, while picking at what was left of her breakfast.
“You,” a soldier said, pointing to Nova. “Come with me.”
Jinx was out of her stretch and on her feet immediately. “Where are you taking her?”
“Nowhere that concerns you,” the soldier sneered. “You stay here. The prince only asked for her.”
Nova tried not to sink back into the bed in fear. She had been doing so much better of late. Her anxiety had not gone away; she did not think it would ever do that. But with control and acceptance of her magic, the spells of anxiety had lessened. It had become easier to pinpoint when anxiety was interfering, and she was learning to let it pass, to live around it.
As the soldier crossed the room toward her, Jinx put herself in front of Nova, cutting him off. “No. You can take us both or not at all.”
The man shoved Jinx hard, sending her crashing into the bed opposite Novaya’s. Leaping off her own bed, Nova prepared to fight back, but someone else stepped into the room, cutting her off.
“That is enough,” Prince Cassius snapped. He waited as Jinx climbed to her feet, and when he saw that she was unharmed, he continued, “I mean Novaya no harm.”
Jinx scoffed. “Like we would trust anything you say.”
“You should. I have decided to release her.”
Nova stood in stunned silence, certain she had heard wrong. “Release me?”
“Yes. I have decided that I believe your original version of events surrounding the princess’s kidnapping. I believe that you had no part in the scheme. As such, I will be releasing you from detention, effective immediately.”
Nova shook her head. “I do not understand.”
He looked at her like she was as simple as a child who had not yet learned to read. “You are no longer to be kept here against your will. I am afraid your position with the seamstress has already been taken, but you will be granted the opportunity to pick up your duties as a maid exactly where you left off. Your old room will be provided to you again. You may continue your life in the manner you lived it before this unfortunate series of events.”
This unfortunate series of events. That’s what he called her imprisonment?
“And what about J—” Nova stopped herself before she said Jinx’s name, gesturing toward her instead.
The prince frowned and shook his head. “I am afraid she is a different matter entirely. She broke into the palace illegally and assaulted a number of my men. And I imagine there is a great deal more to her that I have not yet discovered.”
Nova hesitated, unwilling to trust that things were as simple as he made them out to be, and even more reluctant to leave without Jinx by her side. “She was only trying to help me. And since you have now decided I was likely wrongfully imprisoned all along, her only crime is trying to right your mistake.”
The prince’s lips drew into a flat, hard line. “I suggest you take the generous offer I am making you, Novaya. Before I decide to investigate why someone with possible rebel ties was so interested in freeing you.”
She knew he did nothing out of generosity. He had an angle, of that she was certain. He likely hoped by releasing her, she would lead him to the rebellion. Maybe he planned to watch her and use her as bait.
“Go, Nova,” Jinx whispered, moving to stand beside her. “I will be fine. You know me.”
That was the problem. Nova had only just begun to know the other witch, and she did not want it to end now. She would rather face imprisonment in this room with Jinx than reenter the world of the palace without her.
Jinx caught a few of Nova’s fingers with her own, squeezing gently. The earth witch’s body blocked their connection from the prince’s view, but Nova felt her fires rise up in answer. They could fight; the two of their magics combined would give them a chance of making it out. But Jinx squeezed her fingers one more time and released them.
“Go,” Jinx whispered. “You have been locked up long enough. Be free. Get back to work. Reconnect with your friends. You will see. Everything will be fine.” The words were light, her tone careful and casual, but Nova heard the message behind them. Outside these walls, Nova could keep working on her magic. She could find Aurora, once she had found a way to slip the prince’s watch, of course. And together … together they would come back for Jinx, for Prince Cassius, for all the things left undone.
Finally, Nova nodded and let herself be led out of the room where she had been prisoner since her near escape. She did not resent that room, not the way she had the cell down in the dungeon. It was not a place of suffering for her. It was where she had been awakened. And she was going to miss it desperately.
She paused at the door to look at Jinx one more time. She already missed thei
r nights together, and she had not even left the room yet.
“See you soon,” Nova told the witch, before stepping back and allowing the soldier to close and lock the door behind her, this time with Nova firmly on the outside.
The prince walked with her all the way back to her old room in the servant’s wing, where she found a bed already made, and many of her old belongings just as she had left them. The bed on the other side of the room, however, was empty.
“For caution’s sake, you will be confined to the palace for now. You will attend to your work, as well as meals and any other activities of interest inside the palace. But until you have fully earned the trust I am placing in you now, you will not be allowed out into the city, lest you prove me wrong and involve yourself in questionable matters again.”
Nova forced a thin smile. So, it was simply a different type of captivity then.
“For how long?”
Cassius smiled. “Until I say otherwise. If anyone wishes to see you, they will have to visit you here.”
With the barest bend of his head, he turned and left her room, leaving her alone, in a place that should have felt like home, but did not come close to the supposed prison she had just left.
* * *
Aurora came awake slowly, disoriented and with her head pounding. The sunshine coming in through the trees was like fire to her eyes. She tried to look away, to take in her surroundings, but the world was so bright, and her head felt as if someone was hammering away at her skull from the inside every time she moved.
