Of Ice and Shadows

by Audrey Coulthurst

  “When did this happen?” I asked.

  “Years ago.” Fadeyka flung her arm dramatically. “It was during a battle in the west. My mother and Alek were there with Nalon, the guardian they were apprenticed to. Nalon asked them to use their powers to help with the battle, but Alek didn’t like Nalon’s plan. He felt it wasn’t going to be a fair fight for the enemy.”

  “Moral superiority and deciding his way is the only way—sounds about right,” I said.

  “But if they didn’t act, it would’ve hurt the farmers farther south. So my mother convinced him to use his powers. They won the battle, but Alek felt deceived. So he turned his back on his training, my mother, and everything else. I think he spent a few years working as a hiresword at Misty Plains near the Sonnenborne border after that.”

  “So that’s how he got his title.” I’d wondered about that ever since he’d said that he’d grown up in the slums.

  Fadeyka nodded. “The people of the Misty Plains bestowed the title on him for his acts of heroism in protecting them from bandits or something.”

  “And your mother never forgave him for leaving?”

  “Never,” Fadeyka said. “If you see me at the salle training with him, don’t tell her,” she added furtively.

  I almost laughed. “Why would you want to train with someone your mother hates?”

  “He’s one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom.” She shrugged. “It would be foolish to turn down the opportunity to learn from someone who is the best at something.”

  “Gods, you and Den—” I barely stopped myself from saying Denna’s name and making a comparison that would have revealed her identity.

  “Who?” Fadeyka asked.

  “A friend back home who was a scholar,” I said hastily. “She would have appreciated your dedication to learning from the best.”

  “Sensible.” Fadeyka shook the cookie bag, seemingly disappointed by its dwindling contents.

  When the doorknob turned moments later, Fadeyka’s cookies mysteriously vanished into some crevice of the chaise or gods knew where else. Laurenna entered the study, alone.

  “Where’s Lia?” I asked, immediately alarmed.

  “Having some tea and still in questioning,” Laurenna reassured me. “She’ll be escorted back to your room as soon as she’s done. Did Fadeyka mind her manners?”

  Fadeyka smiled widely, her dark eyes innocent and the cookies nowhere to be seen.

  “Yes, of course,” I said.

  “Well, it appears we found the source of the problem with the lights,” Laurenna said. “Your handmaiden seems to have a rather volatile gift.”

  “I apologize for the damage,” I said, cringing. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you for the trouble—”

  Laurenna waved me off, stepping closer. “The damage was minor, all things considered. I admit I expected a bit of trouble from a Mynarian envoy, but I didn’t expect her to be accompanied by a rogue magic user.”

  “I was hoping to talk to you about her tomorrow,” I said. I’d more urgently been thinking about asking if I could get some medical attention for my burn but now knew it would be the wrong move. I couldn’t let Laurenna see Denna as a danger—only as someone who needed help.

  “Perhaps now is a better time,” Laurenna said, taking a seat. “Tell me about Lia.”

  “She’s my maidservant,” I said. “Having grown up outside Zumorda, she hasn’t had any training for her Affinity, which we discovered earlier this year. When my brother, King Thandilimon of Mynaria, sent me here as an envoy, I chose Lia to accompany me in hopes of getting her the sanctuary and training she so desperately needs.”

  “That was generous of you,” Laurenna said, eyebrows raised.

  Fadeyka looked at me with confusion. “If she’s the magic user, why are you the envoy?”

  “Things are different in Mynaria,” I said carefully.

  “But power is inarguable,” Fadeyka said, not comprehending.

  “That definitely seems to be the case here in Zumorda,” I said.

  “Your people have never been fond of magic users,” Laurenna said to me. “What makes you different?”

  “You’re right that many of my people are suspicious of magic,” I admitted. “But I think it’s time for that to change. We have nothing to lose by learning to work together, and potentially everything to gain.” I was grateful for having rehearsed my response to this predictable question. The words came out easily in spite of the uncertainty churning in my stomach. It was hard to still believe what I was saying after everything that had happened since we crossed the border.

  “In what way?” Laurenna stared at me intently.

  “On our way here, the city of Duvey was attacked by Sonnenborne skirmishers,” I told her. “The soldiers there were at a disadvantage because they had no cavalry. If there’d been a regiment of Mynarian cavalry there, the battle could have been ended much sooner and with less loss. Moreover, Sonnenborne has made it clear through their actions over the past year that they want Zumordans and Mynarians to fight each other. I’m here in hopes of preventing that and making sure we work together to uncover their master plan.”

  “You think the Sonnenbornes have a master plan?” Laurenna said, seemingly amused by this idea. “They don’t have a ruler, or even a government.”

  “I know it seems like they’re just a bunch of disorganized tribes.” I soldiered on. “But many of them banded together and tried to start a war between Mynaria and Zumorda by killing members of my family—the royal family—and framing Zumorda.” I hoped Alek’s theory hadn’t made it to Laurenna by way of Zhari yet.

  Laurenna listened and Fadeyka sat riveted as I told the story of my father’s and uncle’s assassinations and how we’d nearly made the mistake of retaliating against the wrong kingdom.

  “This Lord Kriantz you mention—his ring interests me. Most enchanted objects originated in Zumorda, and those of us who have them are often reluctant to part with them.” Laurenna’s eyes flicked to Fadeyka, whose hand closed around her pendant. A little shiver of unease traveled down my neck at the thought that the necklace might be something as dangerous as Kriantz’s ring.

  “My brother has the ring,” I said. “There’s a fringe group of magic users in Mynaria who might be able to help him unravel its secrets, but I’m sure they have nowhere near the expertise Zumordans do.” Maybe flattery would get me where straightforwardness hadn’t.

  “Well, regardless of what’s in the past, we are going to have to decide what to do with Lia,” Laurenna said. “As for your rooms, conventional lanterns will be provided for now. I’m afraid it may be a bit cold. The enchantment maintaining the heated floors also blew out. I don’t want it reenchanted until we’ve confirmed the nature of the failure, but servants are stoking up the hearths in the meantime.”

  “What do you mean by ‘what to do’ with Lia?” I asked hesitantly. “We hoped to find her training—”

  “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow,” Laurenna said. “Zhari is one of the most powerful magic users in Zumorda. Her insight will be helpful.”

  “And what of the queen?” I asked. The queen was the one I needed to win over—at least to get permission to send in a more formal ambassadorial entourage. “Will she be present tomorrow? We traveled here with Sir Alek, who has a message of his own from Duvey.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Fadeyka making a wide-eyed face and a neck-slicing motion. But it was too late—I’d already said Alek’s name. Laurenna no doubt knew that he was in Kartasha, but bringing him up had apparently been a mistake.

  “Wymund always did have a tendency to choose interesting messengers,” Laurenna said, her expression darkening. “I’ll see that the queen is also notified of tonight’s events. I imagine she’ll want to join us tomorrow, and Lia will also be expected to attend. The page outside the door will escort you back to your rooms.” Laurenna stood up, and Fadeyka followed suit. Clearly the conversation was over.

  “Good nigh
t, Mare. I’ll look for you at the stables!” Fadeyka called as her mother dragged her off down the hallway. I had a feeling she wasn’t going to let up about the riding lessons.

  I trudged after the page, feeling defeated by the day, wishing that I felt the future held more hope. Tomorrow we would see what we could do to find a mentor for Denna. Her path was laid out, but I couldn’t help feeling as if mine was uncertain. If not for her powers, we never would have met Laurenna tonight and I wouldn’t have had the chance to talk to her in a less formal setting. We never would have ended up getting to meet the queen so soon after arriving in Kartasha. Even as a servant, Denna was the driving force behind every bit of progress we’d made since arriving in Zumorda.

  Where did that leave me?

  TEN

  Dennaleia

  I EXPECTED LAURENNA’S QUESTIONING TO BEGIN AS she led me out of the merchants’ hall, but instead we walked in eerie silence that only served to increase my anxiety. As soon as we set foot in the courtyard, a huge black raven swept silently from the dark sky and transformed into a person as she landed in front of us. Her hair was as dark as the raven’s wings.

  “The captain of the Nightswifts will escort you to your questioning,” Laurenna said, and handed me over to the woman, who didn’t even bother giving me her name before turning on her heel to lead me across the courtyard. Her height made her strides nearly twice as long as mine, and I had to hurry to keep up.

  “Where are we going?” I asked timidly.

  “The library,” the woman answered in a clipped tone.

  Normally I might have been thrilled to visit a foreign library, but my fears were much too consuming. Who was going to be questioning me? What did they want to know? How was I going to balance truth and lies to keep to a story that made sense leading up to where I found myself now?

  Soon we entered a two-story building adjacent to the tower at the center of the Winter Court. Intricate carvings of plants and animals decorated the doors, which swung open on silent hinges. My escort seemed to know her way, weaving between the shelves with a thoughtless grace that made me feel clumsy by comparison. Unlike those of Havemont and Mynaria, the Kartashan library was arranged like a maze instead of in tidy rows. Cozy sections for every kind of book connected to each other through narrow walkways with no order I could discern.

  An open doorframe in the back led into a small alcove. A reading desk took up the center of the room, and a few cushioned chairs were tucked around the outside. A woman was waiting in one, and she stood up when we entered the room, her white cloak pristine as fresh snow. Silvery-gray hair twisted back from her temples to an ornate knot on one side. Her lips, painted bloodred, quirked into something almost like a smile. In spite of her relatively simple clothing, it was abundantly clear that she was of high rank.

  “Thank you, Karina—you may take your leave,” the woman said in Zumordan. “Please make sure the contingent of Swifts attending tomorrow’s meeting with Count Ulak are among the best. He’s likely to resist what’s in store for him.” Her voice was cool and lovely as a winter sunset.

  The raven-haired woman bowed and left the library as quickly as she’d appeared from the night sky.

  “What’s your name, girl?” the woman in white asked me.

  “Lia, my lady.” I curtsied deeply, figuring it could not hurt to be gratuitous with my respect, since I was unsure of the woman’s rank or role.

  The woman smiled, as if privy to a secret, and I immediately got the sense it would be unwise to say anything else before she spoke. She came a few steps closer, moving with catlike grace.

  “You truly don’t know who I am, do you?” She stood close enough now that she was looking down at me. She was much older than I would have thought from how she carried herself, with spiderwebs of lines crisscrossing her face.

  I shook my head, even as realization started to dawn.

  “My name is Invasya.”

  I went cold and then hot in the space of a heartbeat. The woman standing before me was the queen of Zumorda. While at one time I might have felt fully at ease in the presence of another royal, now I felt only terror—that my identity would be discovered, or that I’d get myself killed for making a misstep no servant would ever be foolish enough to take.

  “Apologies, Your Majesty.” I curtsied again deferentially, half wondering if I ought to be on my knees instead. Her presence was so intimidating, it would have felt perfectly natural, even to someone like me, who had been royal from the day I was born.

  “Don’t apologize. Sit.” She pointed to one of the chairs in the corner of the room.

  I obeyed her, sitting gingerly on the overstuffed chair. She folded herself into the one she’d been seated in before. A flick of her hand made a servant materialize as if from nowhere. The girl carried in a tea tray and set it down between us, silently fixing each of us a cup and vanishing as quickly as she’d come.

  The queen picked up her cup and considered me with her piercing blue eyes. “Drink,” she ordered, and sipped from her own cup.

  I took mine, keeping my eyes downcast. The tea had the verdant smell of fresh mint, familiar and soothing. I took a sip. Seconds later, a sensation hit me like ice running through my veins. Trembling took over my body so powerfully that I could barely speak. My teacup rattled on its saucer, and I barely managed to keep hold of it.

  “What . . . what’s happening?” I said, frightened by the loss of physical control.

  The queen watched, a half smile on her face. “It’s all right. Take another sip, dear. The tea is purging the last of the peaceroot from your body.”

  I tried to do as she said, barely able to bring the cup to my lips. When I swallowed, another flood of ice ran through me, but then the trembling began to subside. Even my headache receded until it was no more than the dull ache I sometimes had after a long day of reading. Without the haze of the peaceroot, everything felt sharpened—including my fear.

  “May I ask what is in the tea, Your Majesty?” I asked.

  “It’s mint tea with a drop of verium added,” the queen said. When my face did not reveal any understanding, she added, “A purification tincture.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” I said, clutching my cup tightly to still the unsteadiness of my hands.

  “You’re much more interesting to look at now,” the queen said, tilting her head.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, frightened of what exactly she could see.

  “Your Affinity,” she said, and my magic stirred softly as if to answer her. I felt it all now—every tingle prickling my skin, every swirl of my powers as they shifted restlessly inside me. I tried to quell them, but under the queen’s gaze I found it impossible.

  “Stop fighting yourself,” the queen said.

  “I just don’t want to hurt anyone,” I said, my voice small and choked. But it was too late. I had already hurt the person I cared about most.

  “Whether or not you hurt anyone, people will come looking for you soon. You can’t blow up a section of a major trade road and expect people not to notice. Something like that star fall hasn’t been seen since before my rule.” She paused, smiling to herself as though amused by a private joke.

  I swallowed hard. How did she know about that, much less that I’d been responsible? I opened my mouth to deny it and then thought better of it. If she knew what had happened, lying wasn’t likely to do anything but make me look like a fool or a criminal.

  “Wise girl,” she said, as though she’d read my thoughts. Perhaps she had. “Do you know why I’m here in Kartasha?”

  “It was mentioned that you’ve been recruiting a special group of trainees,” I said.

  “That’s right,” she said. “Only the best—the most powerful magic users, who will be the next generation of leaders in Zumorda and beyond. They’ll go on to become guardians, spies, the heads of elite magic schools, or perhaps even my top advisers. But there is a problem I’ve been investigating as well. Young people with Affinities have been disappea
ring in unusual numbers, especially from this region. I find that suspicious, especially given that it’s a recruiting year.” She took another sip of her own tea, waiting for my response.

  Fear rose in me as I remembered the boy who had been abducted in front of us in Duvey, and my magic swiftly rose with the emotions. A few sparks dripped from the fingertips of my left hand before I could hold them back.

  “Let’s not do that,” she said. With a flick of her fingers, the sparks went out, and the smolder of my magic receded into the background.

  I blinked rapidly, surprised by the sudden peace of my magic fading. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty—I didn’t mean—”

  The queen held up a hand to silence me. “Don’t apologize for what you are. Because I can See that is the very least of what you can do.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” I looked down at the floor. She was right, but I’d spent a lifetime trying to hold back my powers, to keep my Affinity as small and polite as I was. I had needed to do that to make sure it wouldn’t ruin the plans for my future—and then it had anyway. Could I possibly rebuild my life around a new paradigm in which my magic wasn’t the enemy?

  “Kartasha is not a particularly safe place for someone of your abilities—not with young magic users vanishing and plenty of powerful people who would be eager to use you as a pawn.” The queen held out her hand, and a flame bloomed to life in her palm. “As you can see, our gifts are similar. Perhaps you’d be interested in training with me.”

  My breath caught in my throat. Was she offering what I thought she was?

  “The rest of my trainees have already been selected, but there is room for one more,” the queen said. “Would you like to join them? I depart for Corovja in two days’ time.”

  “I’m not Zumordan, Your Majesty,” I said softly. It felt wrong to sign on for a future in a kingdom that wasn’t my own, even if it would be the finest training available anywhere. But my not being Zumordan wasn’t the whole truth. My magic had indeed come from Zumordan blood that I hadn’t known about until just before I’d left Mynaria. My mother’s parentage was the best-kept secret in Havemont—her mother’s Zumordan maidservant had served as a surrogate to bear her. The queen saw through everything else I’d been hiding. Perhaps she could see that, too.