by Elly Blake
“Perhaps.” He sounded skeptical. “But you had nothing to compare him to. You have never seen Fireblood masters perform.” He turned to two of the masters, a man and woman, and bowed respectfully before speaking to them in quick Sudesian that I couldn’t catch. They nodded and came forward.
Kai pulled me to sit beside him on the packed dirt. “Watch.”
The masters bowed to each other. Their loose breeches tapered tightly at the ankle. Their feet were bare.
I expected them to fight, but as soon as they started to move, I could see this wasn’t a contest so much as a performance. As quick as hummingbirds, they punched, dodged, kicked, rolled, landed on their backs and pushed up, springing to their feet with impossible agility. Sometimes they used each other as props, linking arms or running up the back of their opponent before flinging themselves into a backflip, landing with effortless precision, then twirling and kicking, each movement blending into the next. If there had been music to accompany it, it would have been frenetic and lovely. It was a ruthless symphony of movement and sounds, the slap of bare feet on bare earth, the swish of a punch, the thud of a kick that just barely connected. They were so controlled, and yet they seemed to pour out everything, holding nothing back.
A shiver crept across my skin. It was the most spectacular display I’d ever seen. It was a fight, but it was also a dance.
Kai leaned close to whisper. “It is a thing of incredible grace, is it not? I have seen them many times and I never fail to be… overawed by the wonder of it. I don’t believe you have ever seen Frostbloods move like this.”
“This is what I’m supposed to learn?” I shook my head. If I had to achieve this level of skill to pass the trials, I was doomed. I would never learn this. Not in a lifetime. And certainly not in a week.
The dance of aggression went on. I could see that the masters weren’t really hurting each other. The punches stopped a hair’s breadth from an opponent’s nose, the kicks mostly for show. If one combatant had made a tiny error, he or she could have done serious damage. But there were no errors. No hesitations. No slips. Just a smooth, effortless homage to movement and possibility.
And then, the fire. They let loose streams of bright heat, feathery plumes that half blinded me. The plumes curved like wings, enveloping the masters with roselike petals of flame. Then all four hands sent fiery beams straight up to the sky, seeming to touch the sun.
The movements came faster, the twists sharper, the feats more daring, until the blur of motion only registered on some unconscious level. This must be the result of incredible raw talent mixed with years of grueling training. When they finally stopped, sweating, and bowed once more, I leaped to my feet to applaud.
Kai’s hand touched my forearm and I saw that he was standing, too. He bowed and I followed suit. The masters returned the gesture, smiling brightly before returning to their seats.
Exhilaration sang in my blood, but I reminded myself I wasn’t here to relax and watch a show, I was here to learn. “So that was a lesson in…” I trailed off.
“In beauty.” Kai raised his face to the sun, showing me the classical lines of his profile. “In pride, artistry. You may not think it matters, and maybe it doesn’t to your Tempesian sensibilities, but it does to us.” He turned his gaze back to me, shining an even brighter gold, as if the sun had poured in and become trapped in his eyes. “The mastery of fire is not only about force. Beauty is inherent in every movement, if done correctly. The two are intertwined. At its best, fighting with fire is as lovely as a dance.”
“Can you do that?” I motioned to where the masters had performed, a few scorch marks in the dirt the only evidence of their display.
“Of course,” he answered haughtily, then chuckled at my expression. “I’m not that proficient, yet. We all have strengths and weaknesses.”
He beckoned me to stand and join him in the circle again. He spread his feet and raised his fists, ready to spar.
“What’s your weakness?” I asked curiously.
His expression cooled. “You’re my apprentice, not my confessor. Try the move again.”
“Strength? Agility? Speed?”
His jaw lifted. It seemed I’d nicked his pride. “None of those. Now, focus.”
As he demonstrated the correct techniques, I watched with the hunger of a predatory bird, trying to imprint every nuance of his movements into my mind. It wasn’t that I’d been doing things wrong, exactly. Just inefficiently, at least compared to him. Every shift of his feet, every extension of his arm, every breath and grunt and punch was designed to give maximum impact to the moves he executed. And execution was the perfect description. There was a ruthlessness to the way he moved, a threat in every aspect of his posture, from the cords standing out in his neck to the way his fingers curled as he let flames loose. If he’d been a genuine opponent intent on hurting me, I might have lost my nerve.
His attacks landed on me like hard slaps. Kai ordered breaks to let me catch my breath, but as the hours wore on, my limbs grew heavy. I realized that he’d held back before, giving me opportunities to strike. Now, he was relentless. I had to struggle every second to keep up.
“Defend!” said Kai for the hundredth time. I brought my forearm up a little too late, my foot slipped, and I was on my back. Kai’s silhouette loomed over me.
My vision blurred. My scar burned.
“Get up,” said Kai again, but his breath fell cold against my face and his voice was lower, graveled. The voice of another opponent in another fight.
“Wait,” I gasped, fighting the sensation.
No, not now, not again.
Colors swirled and faded from the scene. Kai’s heart pulsed white in his chest. The Frost King’s arena loomed at the edges of my vision. I closed my eyes and scrambled backward, finding my feet and turning to stumble toward the gate that led out of the school, desperate to leave before the vision could take over.
A hand grasped my shoulder and spun me around. “Where do you think you’re going? If you’re even thinking of giving up—”
“I don’t want to hurt you!” I said, twisting away.
He scoffed. “You were flat on your back.”
“Just—give me a minute.”
I breathed heavily, hands on my knees, waiting for the feelings to pass. The vision had never quite taken hold, but I experienced the same aftereffects. My skin was chilled. I trembled despite the heat. When Kai’s palm slid gently to my upper back, I found myself turning to him, reveling in his warmth. I heard his surprised inhalation, and then his arms came around me, holding me with reassuring pressure. After a moment, he rested his cheek on my hair.
“I have you,” he said softly.
And just like that, a shuddering breath expanded my chest and my eyes filled. Humiliation washed through me at the thought of showing my emotions so easily. I tried to push him away, but he held tighter. “Hush.”
“I’m not a… child,” I said between uneven breaths, embarrassed that he felt the need to comfort me. “I don’t even know why I’m…” I gulped and blinked rapidly. Had it been the loss of control or the thought of hurting Kai that had bothered me so much? Or maybe the stress had been building more than I’d realized. Either way, I felt like a weak fool for allowing my tears to overspill so easily.
“Everyone needs comfort,” he soothed, the words rumbling in my ear pressed against his chest. “You fight your emotions too much, Ruby. A Fireblood feels too much to suppress. You do yourself harm by denying them. Let them flow.”
“Like you?” I sniffed and worked my hand into the space between my cheek and his chest to wipe my eyes. “Blustering and angry one second, then laughing and flirting the next?”
He chuckled. “I follow my nature. We all must do the same. Stop trying to shut down your feelings. Cry, Ruby. And when you’re finished crying, do what you feel like. Nobody here will think less of you for it.”
I raised my head a little to look at the masters, wondering if they were staring, expecting t
o see censure on their faces. Instead, they were unconcerned, one reading a book while two others spoke softly. One of them caught my eye and smiled. I turned my head back into Kai’s chest, embarrassed. “That’s not… acceptable where I come from.”
He scoffed. “I’ve seen Frostblood culture. A bunch of walking snowmen, priding themselves on self-control. They’re barely alive. What is the point of living if you can’t let yourself feel anything?”
I thought of Arcus. Surely that didn’t apply to him. He felt deeply; he just kept it hidden. That was one thing we’d always had in common, though I had a much harder time hiding my feelings than he did.
Maybe I didn’t have to anymore.
My whole life had been spent trying to tamp down my feelings, keep them under wraps so I could hide my gift. It had been sheer necessity. A matter of life or death.
When I’d been discovered and my mother had been killed, I’d blamed myself for practicing my gift when she’d forbidden it. I’d drawn the soldiers’ attention. Even now, when I let myself remember, I’d feel such terrible guilt it would overwhelm me.
“It scares me,” I whispered. “I don’t like to lose control.”
His voice was low and firm. “If you would let yourself feel more freely, you’d find yourself struggling less. The volcano that pours lava continuously is less likely to erupt.”
“Is that true?”
He grinned. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Sounding good. Looking good. Feeling good. You don’t worry about anything serious.”
He tilted his head to the side, considering, then shrugged. “Worry causes wrinkles.”
“Sud forbid.” Smothering a smile, I faked a bored look of superiority, the kind Marella had perfected. “Neither your clothing nor your skin shall bear such shameful signs of wear.”
He threw back his head and laughed, then gave me a little squeeze. “You’re quite amusing when you’re not lashing me with that sharp tongue. Although”—his eyes turned sultry—“I might not mind the violence of your tongue in the right circumstances.”
I shook my head reprovingly, my lips twitching. “You’re incorrigible.”
He adopted a confused expression. “Is that a compliment or insult? I confess I don’t understand your Tempesian values.”
I finally let myself smile, noticing how his pupils flared in response. “Definitely an insult.”
It seemed to take effort for him to pull his gaze away. “Very good. I see you’ve recovered. Come.” He tugged on my hand. “You can knock me into the dirt. That should restore you completely.”
We sparred for another two hours, but when the sun turned pink with exertion from a long day of warming the earth, the students returned to the training yard, effectively ending our lessons.
Kai grinned as we trudged, dusty and exhausted, toward the waiting carriage.
“What are you looking so happy about?” I darted a suspicious glance at him.
“As I expected, I’m an excellent teacher.” He turned his head to bestow his smile on me like a stray band of sunshine.
I blinked. “I suppose there’s a compliment to me in there somewhere.”
He punched my shoulder lightly. “You stopped fighting yourself and used your emotions to your advantage. Surely you felt the difference?”
I had. My attacks had been faster, more confident. I’d let myself enjoy the sensation of turning my anger and determination into flame. “I admit you’re not a terrible teacher.”
He stopped and grabbed both my hands, bowing over them extravagantly and brushing his warm lips over my knuckles. Before I could chastise him, he was helping me into the carriage. Moments before, I’d been his opponent, struggling to keep my feet as he hit me with attack after attack. In the space of a breath, he was treating me like I was a lady he was courting.
I shook my head as Kai settled into the carriage across from me, his long legs stretching indolently like a satisfied cat. Would I ever get used to his changeability? As much as he talked about feelings, it was hard to tell if he felt anything seriously at all. I had to remind myself that he was only training me so that he could have his second chance. I doubt he cared whether I passed or failed, aside from how it affected his own outcome.
If I died during the trials, would anyone here care?
I stared at the passing scenery: glimpses of the ocean between clusters of homes and vegetation and the wharf. A storm cloud hovered in the sky to the northeast. My thoughts turned to Arcus—the only person that I knew beyond doubt would protect me at his own expense.
Well, that had been the problem, hadn’t it? He’d been risking his court’s wrath to keep me near. And I’d cared enough about him to leave.
My chest tightened sharply. Would I ever see him again?
“You look sad,” said Kai, his eyes glinting. “Chin up, little bird. You did well today.”
“So you think I’ll be ready?”
He didn’t reply right away. I waited, wondering whether he would offer a platitude or an honest reply. Wondering which one I wanted.
His expression became uncharacteristically somber. “No one is ever ready for the trials.”
“Even you?”
He hesitated. “Unlike the naive boy I was, I now know what to expect.”
“I thought that was forbidden. Knowing what to expect.”
His generous lips curved, his handsome face losing all traces of seriousness. “I’m the exception to all rules, Ruby. You’d best remember that.”
TWELVE
DAYS PASSED IN A BLUR OF MUSCLE aches, frustration, and bruises, interspersed by glimmers of hope. I couldn’t say Kai was patient, but he was determined and unwavering. He showed that he was capable of serious dedication. I knew that every time he attacked or blocked or surprised me, he was doing so because he wanted me to succeed. He wanted me to be ready. If I failed, so would he.
He’d taught me several new moves, he’d tested the strength of my fire by having me melt or burn myriad objects, and he’d made me meditate for hours to hone my mental control, not allowing me to move until I was frantic with the need to stretch or fidget. I didn’t complain. I didn’t argue. I learned quickly because I had to. I knew I was improving by the admiration I occasionally saw in his eyes.
One unexpected benefit of the long hours of training with Kai: We developed an easy harmony, the kind of meshing of gifts that the masters seemed to prize so highly. I started anticipating his moves before he made them, and he often predicted mine. It meant that neither of us won easily, although I sometimes wondered if Kai was still going easy on me to build my confidence. We became well-matched sparring partners, pushing each other to new extremes of skill and creativity. It made for a few spectacular fights, drawing the students and masters into appreciative crowds on more than one occasion.
We hadn’t yet come close to the proficiency displayed by the senior masters, though. Many of the children even showed certain skills that already exceeded my own. Still, my gift was strong and growing stronger. Hope grew a little every day. I only wished hope equaled certainty. Even if I’d been the brightest pupil in Sudesia, there would be no guarantee I’d pass the trials. After all, even Kai with his staggering speed, agility, and power had somehow failed his first attempt.
Which meant I needed a backup plan.
Pernillius’s book could very well be in the library at the school, but I wouldn’t gain access to it unless I passed the trials. So I had to explore other paths to knowledge. I made a point of speaking to the masters during my breaks from training, hoping to find Sudesia’s version of Brother Thistle. Surely one of them knew of a scholar whose favorite pastime was burying himself under piles of decaying volumes and musty scrolls. My tentative questions all led me to the same answer: Master Dallr was a keen student of history. He was the one to speak to if I had any questions on esoteric knowledge.
The problem was that Master Dallr had the fr
iendly demeanor of a locked vault and the approachability of a sea-worn cliff. I could bash myself against his jagged exterior for hours on end and all I would get was a headache. Small talk yielded nothing. When direct questions about his love of history didn’t work, I moved on to flattery. When that failed, I attempted charm, which was awkward for everyone. Kai winced at my eagerness. He began to tease me about hero-worshipping the legendary master, until I walloped him, flipping him onto his back in the school courtyard in a cloud of dust. He, of course, grinned.
The most I could glean from all my efforts was that the library did indeed house the most rare and valuable of the kingdom’s manuscripts. And without exception, only the masters were admitted entry.
When the week of training was over, I was gripped by a sense of inevitability, underpinned by panic. I could no longer tell myself that I’d find the book without committing myself to any vows. Only as a master would I be trusted with the knowledge I needed.
The night before the first trial, Kai and I were invited to dine with the queen.
We entered the great hall, a spacious room on the second floor of the south tower with embroidered silk curtains in warm colors, and bronze hanging lamps with lacy openings that blazed with light. The highly polished wood table reflected the lamps, throwing an extra glow onto the colorful porcelain plates and glass goblets. Side tables topped in mosaic tiles were covered with fragrant dishes emitting the scent of roasted meat and unfamiliar spices. The queen sat at one end of the main table, and Prince Eiko sat at her right. Though the setting was rich and stately, the atmosphere seemed intimate. It struck me as less formal than dinners in the Frost Court.
With help from a lady’s maid named Ada, I’d dressed in a white gown with gold lace covering the bodice—borrowed from the overstuffed wardrobe of some Fireblood lady of the court. Kai, with clothing that had clearly been tailored just for him, was a study in masculine perfection in a cream doublet over fawn trousers and black knee boots. Queen Nalani wore a wine-colored silk dress and a heavy gold filigree crown, while Prince Eiko wore loose robes in navy blue. Her lips curved in the hint of a smile, but her expression remained as watchful as ever. I dropped into a curtsy, my palms damp against my skirt.
