by Stella Snow
Using the distraction, she slipped out of the room and hurried to her bedroom. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she let out the breath she’d been holding all afternoon. Sitting around with the piece of paper she had taken had made her paranoid. Especially since Rachel hadn’t heard of personal space and took every opportunity to poke her.
Melodie sat down on the bed and unfurled the note, smoothing it out on her lap. The paper was delicate and old; the ink faded in places that made a few words impossible to read.
There were rumors for years of a relic more powerful than any other. Rumors I dismissed as wishful thinking and exaggeration. Two months ago, I was tasked by the king to identify a strange item. He would not say where it had come from or how he had acquired it, only that I should discover its true nature and decide its usefulness.
It appeared black when I first saw it, but it casts a red glow on everything near it. In the light, the source of that glow is visible deep within it. You could feel the heavy weight of magic as soon as you came close to the item. When I picked it up, the magic emanating off of it was so intense that I thought my arm might go numb.
The first time I used it was unintentional, a careless mistake really. I had forgotten to light the lamps before dark, and in my impatience to continue writing my notes, I failed to set down the item before sending a faelight to the lamp. As soon as I pulled on my magic, I felt the item tremble in my hand. A blinding light filled the room, and though I stopped the magic as soon as I was able, I still felt the power of the item rushing through me.
It was euphoric.
The amount of magic I had used so suddenly should have exhausted me, but instead I felt so full of magic I thought I might lose control of it. I felt as though I could do anything. My magic was thrumming, so I used it again. I pulled out my scrying bowl and scried a place I had visited once over a thousand miles away, which should have been impossible for one person. The image in the water was as clear and real as the desk in front of me.
I cast a ward around my office so strong that I think it might take over fifty skilled people to break it. I was also able to break through protections on a chest in minutes that I had previously deemed impossible. The amount by which the object amplifies the power of the magic I wield is breathtaking.
By the time I stopped casting random magic hours later, I felt drunk. It was hard to put down the item, and when I did, I immediately felt exhausted, but not nearly as much as I should have. I spent the rest of the day poring over the old texts, tracking down rumors and legends until I was sure.
This relic was the Stone. A poor name for something so powerful. The limits to what it can do are unclear. The ancient texts only agree on one thing: the Stone should absolutely not—
She flipped over the paper, but there was nothing on the back. That was it. There was no way of knowing if the relic Salathia had hidden was the Stone for sure, and nothing in this made it clear if the Stone could reopen the gate. Whatever warning this person had left was lost as well.
Groaning in frustration, she flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. All she had were more questions.
Chapter 16
Telagrad, Twenty years earlier
The temple was dark, the air cold, and everything smelled of decay. Pareth curled his lip in disgust but pressed onward into the darkness. His footsteps, as soft as they were, still echoed through the chamber. The farther he walked, the heavier the air grew. There were sounds in the darkness. Soft steps that did not match his. Scratching and whispering. He ignored all of it and looked straight ahead.
The altar was nothing more than a slab of black stone about a foot across that stood waist-high. The air around it was heavy with the weight of magic. Pareth lifted his sacrifice from a silver bowl. The slick weight of it made his stomach turn, but he hid his disgust as he placed the still-warm heart on the stained altar. He sliced his knife quickly across his palm and squeezed out a few drops of his own blood above the sacrifice.
“Blood of the father and the son. Betrayal and sacrifice,” Pareth spoke into the darkness. “This is what you required, where is the Stone?”
The whispers scratched along the walls as the shadows moved and coalesced. Black flames flickered across the altar and Pareth took an unwilling step backward. The heart was consumed in a moment and turned into ash.
He dropped to his knee as a sudden pain struck him in the chest. The burning increased, blooming across his skin. He clawed at his tunic and the cloth tore revealing a blackened symbol twisting across his chest. It curled from the center of his chest over his heart with jagged lines. The lines connected into the outline of a broken sword. The mark was complete. Pareth gasped for air in short pants as he kneeled before the altar.
“You are mine,” something whispered. For a moment the air grew so heavy, Pareth thought he might suffocate. “Together, we will rule. Do not fail me.”
Pareth struggled to his feet and stood tall, his broad shoulders squared against the darkness. He was the king of Telagrad now. He would not cower before anyone or anything. “Where is the Stone?”
Laughter echoed across the chamber. “I will send you a guide.”
The air pulsed, shadows twisting together until something stood before Pareth. It reeked of sulfur and its eyes were pits of fire that made even Pareth’s hair look dull in comparison.
“Go claim your prize,” the voice whispered again.
The new king turned his back to the shadows, but not without a shiver of fear.
Chapter 17
Present Day
Melodie rubbed her thumb across the edge of the worn paper. She’d thought about every possible end to that sentence last night while she should have been asleep. With a sigh, she got up and tucked the paper into a pocket in her backpack. When she zipped it back up, she knocked over her violin case. Her hand shot out and she caught it before it could fall over completely.
She hadn’t played her violin since before the move. It was strange because she hadn’t gone this long without playing in years. She grabbed the case and laid it on her bed. The case was as old as the violin inside, which had been made in 1952, but the leather was still perfect. Her grandmother had splurged on them after Melodie had won her first competition when she was thirteen.
The latches opened with a click and she lifted the lid. The dark red wood of the violin shone beautifully in the morning light pouring in through her window. She took the bow out first, twisting the screw to tighten the bow hair. The rosin came next and she rubbed it along the bow hair five times.
She lifted the violin to her chin and played the strings one at a time, tuning them as she went. She’d always been able to hear the correct pitch, a talent she had gotten from her mother. Now, she wasn’t sure if that was one of Salathia’s white lies or not.
She adjusted the violin slightly, pulled her shoulders back, and held the bow ready. The first note was long and clear as she started out with a song she had played hundreds of times. The notes of the song were as familiar to her as the simple notes of a scale. She played faster and faster, increasing in tempo until the bow was flying across the strings. Her fingers danced on the fingerboard, never still for longer than a second. The hairs of the bow frayed, extending like streamers from the end of the bow.
Melodie poured herself into the music, unable to keep still while she played so fervently. It didn’t matter if she hit every note perfectly, all that mattered was the playing. The song ended, but she didn’t stop, she simply started playing something else. She continued until her fingers ached. When the last note finally rang out, she stood panting and slowly lowered the violin.
“Whoa.” Joy stood in the doorway, mouth open, eyes big as saucers. “That was kind of awesome. Are you like a professional?”
Melodie laughed and shook her head. “Nah, though I wanted to be after college if I could.”
“Can I try to play it?” Joy asked.
“Sure. You’ll just have to be gentle with it, okay?”
> Joy nodded vigorously as she ran over to the side of the bed. Melodie made her sit and handed her the violin, moving it into the right position under her chin.
“Alright, when you move the bow across the strings, you have to give it just enough pressure. Too little and it won’t make a sound, too much and it’s just going to screech.”
Joy tentatively drug the bow across the strings, it slid parallel down the fingerboard instead of directly across, letting out a pitiful noise.
“Here, like this.” She supported the violin with one arm wrapped around Joy’s back, and her other hand around Joy’s where it held the bow. She showed her the correct pressure and angle and played one note, then another. “Did you feel that? The way to hold it?”
“Yeah, I think I get it,” Joy said.
Melodie scooted back to let Joy try on her own again. She fumbled with the bow for a moment but managed a tremulous note for a few seconds.
“Not bad!” Melodie said with a smile.
“Are you kidding me? Did you even hear that?”
“It’s hard to control the bow at first, and that was only your second try, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said, nudging Joy with her shoulder.
“You play again,” Joy said, handing the violin back to her.
“What do you want me to play?”
“Can you play anything?” Joy asked, turning to sit with her legs crossed.
“Anything I’ve heard and remember.”
“What about a One Direction song? Like…What Makes You Beautiful?”
“Hmm, I think I have heard that one recently. Let me try.” She took a moment to hum what she remembered of the beginning, then put bow to strings once again.
The song was simple, so it wasn’t hard to play once she got started. Joy began singing along as soon as she got to the chorus, hopping off the bed to twirl around and act out the girl in the song. Melodie laughed until it was hard to keep playing.
“So, that’s where you are,” Esther said from the doorway, her face softened by a smile that was reserved for her kids. Joy giggled from where she had fallen to the floor dramatically when the song had ended. “Come on, your dad is waiting to take you to Kristen’s.”
Joy followed her mother out of the room.
Salathia stepped into the doorway. There were dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep either. “You have never looked more like your mother.”
Melodie couldn’t respond. Salathia had never told her anything like that before.
“I heard you playing. I had to come listen.”
“Did my mother actually play the violin?” she asked as she knelt to put the violin back in its case.
“Not exactly. That instrument isn’t in the Sidhe, she played the lyre. She used to entertain people like that though. She’d play anything you could think of. If your hair had been blonde, I would have thought I was seeing an apparition,” Salathia smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes..
Melodie had forgotten her mother had been Salathia’s best friend. Salathia probably missed her mother more than she did, since she had never actually known her.
“Maybe I can learn that instrument too one day.” She drummed her fingers on the side of the case. “Am I a lot like her? Other than just the music?”
“You’re getting stubborn like she was,” Salathia said with a huff that was softened with a slight smile. “But for the most part you are very different. You’re quieter. Your mother had to be in the limelight constantly.”
“Am I more like my father then?”
“I didn’t know him well. I knew of him, of course, but I don’t think we ever had a conversation.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps—Perhaps Gavriel knew him,” Salathia offered.
The knot in her stomach loosened a little. It wasn’t an apology, but it was close.
“I’ll have to ask him,” she said as she propped her violin case back up against the wall. “Random question, but what is scrying exactly? I read the word yesterday when we were going through all those scrolls, but it wasn’t explained.”
“It’s a difficult magic, but if you can do it properly, you can see any place that you have visited before as it is at that exact moment for a brief time. The farther away the place, the harder it is.”
“That’s really cool.”
“I suppose it is,” Salathia agreed with a small smile.
“How are things going with those patrols, anyhow? I know you’ve been out pretty much every night.”
“A patrol was attacked by the mercenaries last night.”
“What? Is everyone okay?” Her heart jumped into overdrive. If someone had been hurt because these mercenaries were searching for her, she’d never be able to forgive herself. “Was it your patrol?”
“It wasn’t mine, and no one was injured, but they weren’t able to hurt the mercenaries either. It’s like they’re testing the Forgotten’s defenses,” Salathia said, lips pressed into a thin line.
“I know we’ve been fighting, but just be careful, okay? I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you,” she said, fighting down the lump in her throat.
“I promise to be careful.” Salathia closed the distance and wrapped her in the hug that she desperately needed.
Chapter 18
The walk from her window to their secret training spot in the woods was silent. After another day spent cramped in the library poring over scrolls, the fresh air was a welcome relief. Gavriel didn’t seem to be able to relax though. His shoulders were tight, and he kept clenching and unclenching his jaw.
“Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.
He glanced back at her. “Yes, why do ask?”
“You just seem really tense. I wasn’t sure if you were just tired or if something else had happened like the attack last night.”
“Oh, nothing like that. Honestly, it shouldn’t even matter since the gate is closed and that is so much more important to get solved,” Gavriel toed off his shoes and rolled his head in a circle, stretching his neck. “Esther gave me some records after that big research day, and there was a journal in it, but it was incomplete. She swears it should have all been there, but something is missing. I suspect she might be trying to hide something from me, though I’m not sure why she would.”
“A journal?” she asked, her stomach fluttering nervously.
“Yes, what I have gives some dire warnings about a relic, but I don’t know what relic it’s referring to, so it’s useless. I gave it back to her and she promised to look again for the missing page. But that doesn’t matter right now.” He stretched his arms overhead. “We are starting with something new today.”
Melodie had been looking forward to this all day, but she had a strong urge to run back inside and search Esther’s office. She had a feeling that the page she’d found had come from the journal Esther had given him. It would have to wait though, because running off would be slightly suspicious.
“A new kind of magic?” she asked as she kicked off her flip flops next to his shoes.
“No. I’m going to teach you how to throw a punch, among other things.”
“Why not just magic?” She had never liked P.E., and she doubted she was going to like this.
“Sometimes magic isn’t enough. Sometimes you’ve used so much of it that you are magically exhausted, and you can’t even summon a faelight, especially on this side of the Veil. If you use too much magic, too fast, you will feel the effects like physical exhaustion. It’s also good for your concentration and control overall if you know how to control your body.”
“Right,” she said with a sigh, resigned to her fate.
She crossed her arms and waited for him to start the training. Gavriel stepped up and tapped on her forearm. She uncrossed her arms and held her hand out.
“Make a fist,” he instructed.
She curled her fingers into her palm. He took her thumb, which was sticking out from her first, and curled it over her fing
ers.
“Never leave your thumb sticking out, you can break it if you hit something like that.”
He stepped moved to her side and brought her fist up next to her chin.
“Put your left foot forward and bend your knees slightly,” he said nudging at her foot. She moved it where he pushed until she was standing with her left foot forward at a slight angle, her right foot back, and her knees bent. He squared off her hips so that her belly button was facing forward.
“Make a fist with your other hand as well and bring it up near your face,” he said as he tapped her left arm. She did so, making sure she tucked her thumb properly. He settled his hands on her hips.
“When you punch, your power comes from your hips,” he said as he twisted her hips, pushing the right side forward until she thought she might tip over. “You’ll twist them like that.”
He stepped away, mirroring her position and demonstrated the punch slowly, twisting his hips just as he had shown her. She mimicked his motion, extending her right arm all the way out. He adjusted the angle of her fist and tapped her first two knuckles.
“When you hit, you hit with this part of the fist.” He stepped around to stand in front of her and held his hand out in front of her. “Now, hit my hand.”
She tapped his hand with her fist. She didn’t really want to hit him, and the motion felt awkward.
“Come on, harder than that, and make sure you twist your hips,” he said.
Her fist snapped out, but she missed his hand entirely because she twisted her hips too much. She adjusted her feet and tried again, this time hitting his hand with a satisfying thwack. A grin lit up her face, and he nodded in approval.
“Better. You have the motion down. Picture your target now and keep punching.”
Sweat rolled down her spine, and she knew her face was likely flushed bright red. Her only consolation was that she could see beads of sweat forming on Gavriel’s forehead as well.
