by Adalyn Grace
Ornately carved with the map of the land we command, the entire kingdom of Visidia unfolds across the golden slabs, portrayed by a collection of islands inlaid with shimmering jewels. The island of soul magic and the capital of our kingdom, Arida is represented by a bright sapphire that sits proudly in the middle of the map.
My skin warms as I brush my finger across my home island, trailing straight above it to Yuriel’s home—Mornute, marked by rose beryl. A lavish, affluent island, full of stylish denizens who use their enchantment magic to have purple hair one day and pink the next. Mornute is well-known for not only its magic, but also for its lush mountainside vineyards. The island of enchantment produces and exports most of Visidia’s alcohol. Though their ale’s delicious, their wine is by far my favorite.
To the left is Casem and Mother’s home island of Valuka. Marked by a ruby, it’s where elemental magic is practiced. While Mother chose for her affinity to be water, those with Valukan magic may pick between wielding either earth, fire, water, or air.
Below Valuka is an island more elusive to me—Kerost, the island of time magic, portrayed with an amethyst. Though it’s impossible to manipulate time itself, those with this magic are able to change how bodies interact within time, slowing them down or speeding themselves up. We have soldiers and staff here at the palace who hail from all the islands, but it’s been ages since I’ve seen time magic in action. Father’s told me stories of how taxing that magic can be for its users, which is why it’s Visidia’s least practiced magic.
To the far right of Arida sits a thick emerald stone that marks the center of Suntosu, the island of restoration magic. Skilled healers often come to work for the kingdom, where they’re dispatched to healing wards all over Visidia, tasked to care for the sick and injured. But Suntosu is also the home of Ferrick, my fiancé, and for that reason I skim over the island quickly, not wanting to think about having to announce our engagement. I trail my finger upward instead, to the onyx that marks Curmana, the birthplace for many of our royal staff, including Mira. I think of the Curmanans I watched earlier, helping others up the cliffs.
But not all are skilled at levitation; some, like Mira, are skilled mind speakers who can communicate directly into another person’s mind without ever having to use her lips. Father’s employed several of them to work with the advisers on each island, and their magic is how we communicate with one another so swiftly. It’s also a great resource for the kingdom’s latest gossip.
When I go to pull my hand away, my thumb brushes over a tiny hole in the map, to the far south of Arida, and I bend to examine the hole that was once filled with a beautiful white opal.
Zudoh. An island that specializes in curse magic, banished from the kingdom when I was a child. I don’t know much about their magic—just that it was used for protection. They could create barriers and charms that, when touched, would make people see strange things. But mostly the island was known for its advanced infrastructure and uniquely engineered wood that lent itself to producing our homes as well as our ships. As the southernmost island, its climate is the coldest of any. Winters in Zudoh are said to be harsh and full of snow and blizzards.
I don’t remember much about their banishment, as it happened when I was only seven years old. It’s a tender subject of conversation around the kingdom, often spoken of in whispers behind shut doors. Even Father doesn’t like to discuss it. Whenever I’ve pressed for details, he’s been quick to turn his shoulder and say that Zudoh doesn’t agree with the way the Montaras rule, and that they never will. Beyond that, everything I know about Zudoh’s banishment has been gleaned from keeping an ear to the kingdom’s gossip network.
I’ve heard that Zudoh’s advisers turned on Father during one of his visits to their island, and a fight ensued that left him severely injured. I vaguely remember a brief period when Father took a break from training me and I wasn’t allowed to see him. Back then I’d assumed he was busy; it wasn’t until years later that I connected the dots.
It’s infuriating, being expected to one day rule this kingdom, yet being treated like a child by having so much information kept secret “until I’m ready.”
That’s what I’m looking forward to tonight, more than anything. The moment my performance is over and I’m officially recognized as heir to the throne, I’ll demand to know everything there is to know about my kingdom. No longer will I have to wonder. No longer will Father be able to keep me holed up on Arida, telling me to keep practicing my magic. He’ll have to treat me with the respect the future queen deserves. I may be one of the few possible heirs left, but I am not the fragile, breakable thing he believes me to be.
“Amora?” Mira’s voice draws me back.
Two palace guards flank my sides, each with a hand resting on the thick handles of the door, waiting.
I draw a breath. “Open them.”
The doors bring a rush of air as they part, knocking a few loose strands of curls free from their coil at my neck and into my eyes. My chest grows tight as my breaths quicken. I glance back at Casem and Mira, both of whom are on one knee with their heads bowed, then step inside.
The doors slam shut behind me.
There’s no need for light in the throne room. Torch- and starlight sneak through the open back wall and flood the cavernous space. Like everywhere else inside the palace, the floor is a striking white marble, though in here it’s partially covered by a thick sapphire rug laced with golden trim. At the edge of it, three thrones made from pearl and whalebone sit at the top of six black marble steps.
There will be four chairs, soon. Once married, Ferrick will sit beside me every time I hold council.
My palms sweat, but there’s no time to dwell on the invisible fourth chair. My parents stand before the two front thrones; the exposed panoramic balcony that overlooks Arida spreads out behind them. The enchanted torchlight that filters in illuminates their profiles and turns their bright smiles into miniature glowing moons.
“Amora.” Father speaks first. “You look beautiful.” There’s a table behind him, though I can’t see what’s on it.
The reality of what’s finally about to happen turns my legs into stone. Shakily I force them forward, step-by-step. Marble pillars loom tall beside me—there are four more between my parents and me. I count each as I move.
One.
One more hour until I prove to Visidia that I’m meant to be their heir.
Two.
Two more hours until I’m engaged to a man I’ll never love.
Three.
Three more hours until I give the command to ready a ship to set sail tomorrow, and demand to know every secret about this kingdom that’s ever been kept from me.
Four.
Finally the nerves come, burrowing into me. Making me sweat.
At the bottom of the stairs I bow, and Father chuckles.
“Come, Amora,” he says. “Come sit.”
I swallow a lump in my throat and climb the steps too quickly as I start toward my chair—the one in the back. Mother grabs hold of my shoulders and turns me around.
“Not that one,” she whispers, pointing me instead toward the largest chair—the one meant for the High Animancer.
My heart is a monster that rages against my rib cage as Father takes hold of my arm and guides me into his seat.
The room looks massive from here. There are no stars from this angle, nor any windows to overlook the island. It’s just me and a stretch of empty space that feels too large.
“One day, when the gods take my soul or the island no longer sees me fit to rule, this is where you’ll sit. You will rule this kingdom, as the gods created you to do.” Father’s voice is distant; my thunderous heartbeat pounds in my ears, louder than his words. “I know your magic, your control, and your strength. For these past eighteen years I have watched it grow within you every day, and I could not be prouder. The power of Arida is strong within your blood, and yet you’ve conquered it. Now it’s time you prove that to our people. Show them
that when my time ends, they may put their trust in you.” Father reaches behind him, drawing two elegantly vicious epaulettes from the table.
The ornamental shoulder pieces are alarmingly tall, encrusted with thick gemstones to represent the various islands of Visidia, and form jagged and dangerous spikes that will surely slice my own cheek if I turn too quickly.
Desire swells, nearly choking me. I never realized how cold or how light my shoulders were until this moment.
“Amora, do you swear to accept this position the gods have offered you by wielding your magic with honesty and fair judgment?” he asks as he hooks the first one on.
“I do.” I grip the arms of the chair to steady myself.
“Do you swear to uphold the laws of soul magic, knowing that every time you wield it, it must be with finality?” Father hooks the second epaulette.
“I do.”
He draws a step back to look me over. “And, most important, do you swear your dedication to protect the people of Visidia by upholding this magic for the duration of your life? Even knowing the consequences?”
I look at Father firmly, my chin high. “I do.”
His eyes beam as the torchlight catches them. “Then may your training end here, and may you be Animancer by sunrise. You have my blessing.”
The gemstones graze my neck and ears, forcing goose bumps across my skin. When I shiver, Mother presses a hand to my arm, her presence steadying me.
“Happy birthday, my love. We’re proud of you.” Mother’s beautiful brown skin glows as radiant as the seaside cliffs at sunrise, the warm amber shade nearly a perfect match of my own. Her brushed-out auburn curls are voluminous beneath her elegant crown—a series of brilliant shells and coral, with several dried starfish woven in and inlaid with dainty sapphire gemstones. It matches her royal-blue gown, loose and seemingly understated, but woven with rich detail. Ruby-red threading lines her cape and marks her as someone originally from Valuka, and a smattering of tiny diamonds are dusted along her bodice. Her jewelry is what truly shines—fat pearl-and-diamond earrings, sparkling rubies and sapphires that adorn her dress’s collar as it fans out around her neck, and thin rings that make her fingers shimmer as she moves.
Something in her other hand catches the light and gleams. When she notices me staring, she smiles and opens her palm.
“This belonged to your grandmother,” she says, dangling a necklace from her fingertips. The chain is solid gold. It winds around a heavy sapphire that hangs in the middle, teardrops of diamonds dangling beneath it. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen. “She entrusted it to me when you were a child. These jewels are worthy of the future Queen of Visidia.”
Before I know what’s happening, the necklace is hooked around my neck. Mother kisses my temple, but my parents aren’t finished yet.
When Father draws a crown from behind the throne, all the breath in my body escapes.
The giant headpiece has been constructed from whalebone and plated in ivory. Sixteen pillars of bone spike from the base and spiral at least a foot and a half into the air. They’re sharp as icicles, ready to impale, and are softened only by the indulgent white and blue flowers Mother tucks behind my ear and weaves through the bones.
If there’s one thing I know for certain about this night, it’s that I am meant to wear this crown.
When I present myself tonight, there will be no question of whether I’m the one meant to be Visidia’s future High Animancer, once Father’s time has passed. When my people see me tonight, they will know, just as I do.
I stand and hug Mother first, then Father. Both hold me tight, but are careful not to knock the crown or cut their cheeks on my sharp epaulettes.
“Put on a terrific performance out there.” Mother adjusts the flowers in my hair, giving me one final look-over before smiling her approval.
“Show our people the power of the Montaras is strong,” Father says.
“I’ll do more than that.” I trace my finger along my crown, my breathing easier and my muscles relaxing with each passing second. “I’ll show them I’m strong.”
With the comfortable weight of the satchel on my hips, I’m ready.
Father cuffs my shoulder gently, just once, and offers his hand to Mother.
It’s time.
CHAPTER THREE
Every head turns our way as Casem escorts me from the palace and into the thick of the celebration. Heavy vines tangled with glowing pink flowers hang from the cliffside, brushing my shoulders and attempting to snake around my crown as we scale the mountainside, upward to where I’ll perform my ceremony later this evening.
Casem leads me through a sea of people who part for us as we pass, not letting me linger in any one place for too long. As we walk, he breathes deeply through his nose and groans. “By Cato’s blood, I wish my birthdays smelled this good.”
Dozens of vendors are perched along the mountain’s path, offering everything I could have imagined and more—roasted pork, sticky-wet honey cakes, rich banana pudding and sweets from Ikae, raw fish and sugar-glazed mango slices, chicken, fruits, everything. There are even some who sell toy crowns, or sabers inlaid with bold sapphire stones.
Two Aridian women have situated themselves near the wine barrels, laughing boisterously as a royal guard tries to usher them away and to the food stands. One of the women shoos the guard’s hands away with another laugh that’s almost contagious. Behind them, pink and blue torches light the night, shimmering with Mornute’s enchantment magic. They illuminate the figures of both performers and civilians who dance and sing to the beat of the drums, joyous and carefree. Wine-coated laughter bubbles in the air and layers itself on top of the music. On the beach below, others are still arriving on their ships, grabbing food and greeting one another merrily before they begin their ascent.
“It’s the princess!” A Valukan girl’s sharp whisper draws my attention. She stares at my crown with a slack jaw, and those who surround her are no different. They gawk at my adornments before they remember themselves and bow.
Before them, I keep my neck tall despite the weight of my crown, and my shoulders back even when the epaulettes fight me. Though part of me wishes to wave away their formalities, the truth is I crave them. Seeing my people dipped in respectful bows sets my shoulders straighter as my chest swells with pride.
All my life I’ve trained to protect these people, and now they’ll finally see just how capable I am.
As I make my way through the crowd, most Visidians step nervously aside, side-eyeing my crown and epaulettes with awe, while others rush to greet me with offered handshakes. While I recognize the faces of some, hundreds of strangers have flocked to my home to watch their princess secure her title of Arida’s Animancer, heir to the throne. They wear the colors of their home islands, creating a sea of various hues and fashions.
Like Yuriel, citizens of Mornute are adorned in feathers—today’s current fashion trend. One woman has enchanted her gown to look like it’s a single swan feather, with a sparkling gossamer top that billows out at the waist until it fluffs around her. The man beside her has vibrant blue makeup that wings out from the bottom of his matching eyes. He wears a peach cape with shoulder pads of feathers that flare from his neck. Every few steps he takes, the cape shimmers with the passing image of a flamingo flying over it.
Children of Valuka are dressed simpler, wearing loose shawls and beautiful skirts or linen pants—light clothing that frees their movements. They play around one of the torches, stealing its flame and tossing it back and forth. A little blond girl loses control of the flame and singes the edge of her ruby shawl. Her mother catches what’s happening and swats the girl’s hand. She shoos the children away from the flame and relights it with a wave of her palm.
Magic in amounts I’ve never before seen is happening all around me, and I crave it. A woman with rich violet-brown skin and a soft face framed by cloud-like curls dons a Suntosan emerald cape as she uses her magic to heal the fire-wielding Valukan chil
d. Behind her, a Curmanan man in black robes floats two glasses of wine beside him and carries full plates of food for his family.
In the midst of these people, children and their parents flock to watch a puppet show, one of the dozens of various street performances happening tonight.
“Come, one!” a voice trills dramatically from behind the booth.
“Come, all!” a crowd of children respond automatically, watching with buggish eyes.
Only after their response does the narrator continue. “Come, gather to hear the story of the great Montaras—conquerors of magic, protectors of the kingdom!”
Parents pull children onto their laps, and I wonder if they think this display as wonderfully over the top as I do.
I take hold of Casem’s sleeve as the dark velvet curtains of the booth open for the start of a show, and pull him back into the shadows to watch.
“Really?” he asks, sighing as I hush him.
“Once upon a time,” the narrator whispers, “a vicious monster sought to destroy Arida with its magic.” Lights flicker on in the booth as one of the performers jerks his hand up—it’s covered by a crudely made puppet of something meant to resemble a monster. “This beast was vicious and sought to corrupt those with multiple magics. Back then, you see, no one knew the dangers of it. They were exhausting their bodies, leading to slow, painful deaths as excess magic ate away at them.
“Magic has a way of making a person greedy,” he continues. “The more someone has, the more they tend to want. The beast preyed on this greed by offering others the chance to learn its magic—the most powerful magic the world had ever seen, it claimed. People jumped on the opportunity, never expecting what the monster really wanted from them: their souls!”
Gasps sound from the audience, and beside me, Casem stifles a laugh. I nudge my elbow into his side, stopping him before anyone notices.
For Casem and the onlookers, this is simply another ancient story of our history that we grew up with. For me, this is my blood. My ancestry.
