by Wendy Wang
“One last thing I must know,” he said. Neala sighed and pulled out of his arms so she could look into his face. She leaned against the table. “Did you love him?”
His question made her mind swirl. She’d asked herself that question a thousand times since she came home and only one answer prevailed. A tired smile tugged at her lips, and she shrugged. “I loved the way he made me feel.”
“How did he make you feel?”
She closed her eyes, letting the memories wash through her if only for a brief moment. When she opened them again she squared her gaze on him. “Noticed. Alive. Important. When I was with him, I mattered.”
“Why would you think you don’t matter?” He said the words as if he did not believe what he was hearing.
“I don’t. Not really.” She shook her head. “I’m the second daughter of one of the longest reigning Queens in Kael’s history. I have one job and so far I haven’t done it very well.”
“What’s your job?” Cai’s nose wrinkled in confusion.
“To build an alliance. I’m supposed to marry advantageously under the guise of fate. Then ensure whatever my husband does somehow complements my mother’s reign.” She breathed in deeply and blew it out. “And now I don’t think I’ll ever marry. Which will kill my mother. So I’ve failed.”
“You truly think that’s all you’re worth? An alliance?”
“Of course. Why else would someone like you apply to be included in my match? I’m nearly ten years younger than you. You’ll inherit land and fortune from your mother. If we had been matched—an alliance with the Queen would mean power and an even better position. She would probably make you an official adviser, not just on military matters. “
“Neala, I didn’t apply because of some alliance with your mother.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “I applied because of you. Because I wanted—want—to be matched to you. Do you understand?”
“Cai—” She glanced away. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging them to her body.
“I’m not telling you this to make you uncomfortable, but you asked,” he said softly. “And I want you to know you are worth more than any alliance.”
“No, I’m not,” A tear escaped and she swiped it away with the back of her hand.
“You are.”
“I knew Peter and I could never be matched but I dreamed about it. I thought maybe somehow fate would intervene.” She sniffed and focused on the pendant hanging around Cai’s neck. A black, glassy stone was tucked safely inside a silver disk and like Peter’s, the stone was carved. She fought the urge to reach out and touch it—to feel its energy and determine what sort of creature protected Cai.
Cai placed his finger beneath her chin, gently guiding it upward so he could look into her eyes. “Maybe it did. Maybe fate just didn’t look the way you thought it would.”
Neala chuckled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. A drop of yellow paint clung to Cai’s cheek and she reached for one of the clean cloths she used for cleaning her brushes. She dipped a corner of it in the cup of linseed oil.
“You have paint on your face,” she said. Cai’s hand traveled to his cheek and rubbed at the skin. “Here, let me,” she said. He leaned in close, letting her wipe the yellow pigment from his cheek and chin. Their eyes met for a brief moment and her heart fluttered against her ribs. His eyes darted to her lips and instinctively, he licked his own.
“Got it.” Neala’s chest tightened and she shuffled sideways to get some distance between them. Her hands wrung the cloth. “Sorry about losing my temper before.”
“There’s not a day of the week I don’t somehow make you angry.” His face brightened with humor and the air lightened between them.
“True.” A soft laugh escaped her lips.
“It’s almost fun, you know. Making you angry.”
“I’m so happy to entertain you,” she mocked.
“Well, I wish I could stay for more entertainment but I have to go. Graduation is only six weeks away and I must attend a meeting.”
“Of course. I’ll just go back to painting,” she said, jerking her thumb at the canvas.
“Good. I will see you bright and early in the morning. All right?” Cai pointed at her. “And Neala, please remember our agreement. Nothing crazy or dangerous.”
“Nothing crazy or dangerous going on here.” She called up a half-smile. “I swear it on Jerugia’s crown.”
“Good.” he nodded. “And I’m here, if you ever need to talk. About anything.”
“Thank you.” Her smile widened, working the muscles of her face for the first time in weeks. Cai bowed his head to her and she watched him disappear through the door. She bent over and picked up the brushes she’d thrown at him. The wind gusted from above her, making her blouse billow. Neala yanked at the tail, pulling it down as she stood up and tried to figure out where the breeze had come from. She glanced around the courtyard. All of the plants stood still with not even a quiver. When she heard the sound of waves breaking, she turned to the table. Her hand drifted to the painting of the beach where Peter had taken her. A warm, summer wind blew against her palm.
“Jerugia’s crown,” she uttered. Her fingers brushed against the canvas and sank into the painting, disappearing. “I did it.” A smile stretched her lips. “Now I just have to do it again.”
Ten
“Good morning, your Highness,” Isolde said as she threw open the curtains, blasting sunlight across Neala’s bed. Her mother’s lady’s maid unlocked the window and pushed it open. The warm, sweet air of summer washed in, colliding with the cool, stale air of her room.
“Ugh!” Neala threw her arm across her eyes. Books littered her bed. She had been up late reading through them, still trying to find information about the painting in the main building of the warden’s compound. One of the lighter books thudded to the floor as she rolled over. “Why are you here, Isolde? You are not my maid. Where is Linka?”
“Your mother sent me up to wake you,” Isolde said, standing at the foot of the bed. Neala peeked at her from beneath her arm. Isolde’s right eyebrow raised and her lips thinned into a stern line. Her mother had sent in her best weapon—someone who had known Neala since she was a baby. Someone not afraid to manhandle her just because she was royal. “The chief commander is here waiting on you. Evidently, you agreed to meet with him this morning. To leave the palace grounds.”
“I never agreed,” she lied.
“Truly.” Isolde sounded less than convinced. “Your mother told me to drag you downstairs, even if you were in your night dress.”
“You would not.” Neala pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared into Isolde’s beautiful, lined face.
“Indeed, I would.” The older woman narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “You have not tested me like this since you were a little girl. Have you forgotten what I am? Where I come from?”
How could Neala forget? Isolde may have been a fixture at the palace, but she was born in Iberebeth. As an Earth Kael, strength in all its forms came to her naturally. But Isolde was stronger than most Earth Kaels, even the men. Her mental fortitude was legendary but so was her pull-you-out-of-bed-drag-you-down-the-hall-without-breaking-a-sweat kind of strength. The image of Isolde dragging her down to the terrace where summer breakfast was being served popped into her head. A giggle bubbled up.
Isolde narrowed her eyes and looked down her long, skinny nose. “Are you laughing at me, Highness?”
“No. Not at all,” Neala said biting her lips together to stifle the laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m getting up. Right now.”
Isolde reached over and squeezed the big toe on Neala’s right foot. “Owww.”
“See that you do,” Isolde’s tone warned and she disappeared into Neala’s closet. Neala sighed heavily and threw back the covers. She rolled onto her back and stared at the coffered ceiling. The upstairs maid had missed a cobweb in one of the corners and she watched as it shivered against the breeze.
“Princess Neala.” I
solde emerged from the closet with a pair of tan trousers and a pale lilac blouse folded over her arm. She laid the clothing on the bed and put her hands on her hips. “Get up from that bed this instant!”
“Cai wants to take me for a walk.” Neala ignored Isolde’s warning tone. “I don’t think I can go. I’m not feeling very well. Can you go downstairs and let him know?”
“Absolutely not. You want to cancel your plans with him, you will have to face him yourself,” Isolde said flatly. “Now get your behind out of that bed, young lady.”
“Have you never been scared of something, Isolde? So scared that it paralyzed you?” Neala asked. Isolde sighed and her ice-gray eyes softened as she gazed at Neala.
“Yes. I have.” Isolde sat down at the foot of Neala’s bed and faced her. “When I was a young girl, still living in Iberebeth with my parents, my village was attacked by Bohrs. I thought we were all going to die. After that, I was terrified of haystacks.”
“Haystacks? Why?” Neala sat up, intrigued by the story. She tried to imagine the golden fields of Iberebeth and a young Isolde—terrified of anything.
“The Bohrs had hidden themselves inside the stacks to be baled and waited for my father and brothers to come out into the fields. I remember them exploding from the stacks with their bows and arrows.”
“What did you do?” Neala crossed her arms.
“I ran and hid in the barn until it was over, but I could see everything as it happened from the open loft doors. My father and oldest brother were killed that day. They left my mother alive, but only after defiling her.” Isolde grimaced and her left hand closed into a fist. “My mother sold our farm not long after and moved my sister and me to Tamarik. That is when I came to work at the palace.”
“I’m so sorry, Isolde. I had no idea,” Neala said.
“For years, I was afraid of haystacks.”
“Of course you were. I would be, too.” Neala nodded. She wanted to hop up and give the old woman a hug, but she knew Isolde didn’t give hugs, at least not very often, so she squelched the urge.
“Then one day, I was visiting Iberebeth with your mother. We were both young at the time—sixteen. I saw a haystack on our route and became quite frightened. When your mother asked me why, I told her. She stopped the carriage right then and forced me to face my fear.”
“My mother did that?” Neala said incredulously.
“She did. In fact, we both borrowed some pitchforks from the farmer and she made me stab the haystack until I was not afraid anymore.” Isolde’s eyes became distant, lost in a memory. “If you let the fear take over, it will rule you forever. If I were you, I would find a pitchfork and stab whatever I was afraid of through the heart.”
Neala gaped. The image of her pushing her dagger through Peter’s chest popped into her head and it made her stomach flip. “I don’t think I could.”
“I’m not saying stab the person. This should not be interpreted literally. I’m saying get out of that bed and go for that walk with the chief. By walking through those trails that you love, you stab that fear through its heart. Understand?”
Neala nodded. “I think so.”
“Good. Now get out of that bed and get dressed.”
Neala rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but grin. “Fine. I will get up.”
“I will let him know that you will be down in ten minutes.” Isolde raised her left eyebrow, as if she were readying herself for more arguing. When Neala pushed her legs over the side of the bed and grabbed her pants, Isolde gave her a smile and left her to dress. Neala’s stomach fluttered the whole time she readied herself. She pulled on her boots and grabbed her dagger from its place in her vanity drawer. Holding the dagger in her hand stilled the butterflies in her belly. You can do this, she told herself. The dagger hummed at her in agreement, and she strapped it to her thigh and went downstairs to stab her fear through its heart.
******
Cai waited for her in the grand hall. He paced back and forth in front of one of the tufted benches lining either side of the hall. She ducked behind one of the columns and watched him for a moment. He appeared to be talking to himself, which made her smile. What was he saying? If her Wood Kael skills had been stronger, she would have tried reading him, but she knew her lack of ability would only give her away. He stopped mid-pace and glanced up the wide, grand staircase. He raised his hand, his fingers splaying. Neala swallowed hard, fighting the panic that tightened like a noose around her neck. Stab your fear, she thought. Slowly, she descended the stairs, controlling every breath, trying to keep her fears from swallowing her whole.
“Good morning, Highness.” Cai gave her a smile.
“I apologize for making you wait.” She met his eyes.
“I’m just pleased you decided to come. I feared you might change your mind.”
“I almost did,” she said. “But then someone wise told me that I have to face my fears so I don’t become their captive.”
Cai nodded. “Very wise, indeed. We will only go as far as you feel comfortable, agreed?”
“Agreed,” she said. Cai offered his arm and she tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “We will make better time if we go out the service entry.”
“All right.” Cai ducked his head and gestured for her to lead the way.
A few minutes later, Neala and Cai passed through the kitchen for supplies. Cook must have been forewarned by her mother because she had made two roast beef sandwiches, packed two fat peaches and two bottles of ginger ale. Neala also grabbed a piece of buttered toast and munched on it as they walked out the back door into the dirt and graveled kitchen entrance. A kitchen maid threw out grains and fresh greens for the chickens. Two men unloaded a cart under the watchful eye of a warden and another warden was oiling the hinges on the gate as they approached. The warden hopped down and unbolted the lock. Neala’s fingers tightened on Cai’s arm and she stopped walking. Only a few months ago, she couldn’t wait to get beyond these walls. Now they were the only thing that made her feel safe.
“Highness, I want you to listen to me,” Cai’s soft voice said. “Close your eyes.” Neala did as she was told. “Now, imagine a pin-prick of light starting in your chest—becoming brighter, warmer–until it fills your entire being.”
“All right.” she breathed deeply.
“Imagine the light shooting from your fingertips, your toes, surrounding you, protecting you,” he whispered close to her ear. “You are Kael. You are chosen. Set your intention. Believe and you will see—you are protected. Nothing can harm you.”
In her mind, she could see it, the light around her, a halo of warmth and safety. The threshold lingered just out of reach. “I—can’t.” Her eyes flew open and she started to turn, to run back towards the palace. Cai stepped in front of her, stopping her. “Let me pass,” she croaked, trying not to become a puddle of tears in his presence.
“No.” Cai’s voice was firm, his gaze steady on hers. “I cannot let you give up so easily.”
“It is not your choice to make.” Her lip quivered, but she stared at him, defiant.
Cai’s face softened. “No. It is yours. But if you give up, Neala, you become exactly what he wanted.”
“And what is that?”
“His prisoner. Is that what you truly want?”
His words hit her harder than any slap could have. How had she not recognized it before now? It wasn’t fear ruling her. It was Peter. Somewhere in the recesses of memory she could hear Peter’s voice whisper to her—You will always be mine, Princess. Anger seethed inside her, making her want to strike out. “Sometimes I really hate you,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I know.” Cai nodded. “But if it will get you outside that gate, I willingly accept your hatred of me. Now close your eyes.” Neala sighed and closed her eyes. Cai walked her through the exercise again. The light inside her mind expanded throughout her chest, outside her body and this time, it glowed around her like a flame, ready to burn the heart out of anyone who ever dared
to mistreat her again. Her eyes flew open.
“I’m ready,” she said. Cai signaled for the warden to open the gate and Neala walked through without hesitation.
******
Halfway up the mountain, something amazing happened. Her anger subsided and the fear did not rush in to replace it. She and Cai approached the outcropping of rocks—a place that once belonged to her and her father, much more than it ever belonged to her and Peter. Her father’s memory made it bearable and she and Cai sat together on the largest rock, looking down on their valley, eating their sandwiches and enjoying the ginger ale.
Cai laughed at one of her jokes and for a second it took her breath away, not only the musicality of it but how absolutely beautiful he was, with his head slightly tilted back and his mouth open and relaxed. The sound was a balm on her ragged heart. How many people in the realms had seen Cai Declan laugh with his whole body? Only very few, she thought, and she felt lucky to be one of them. It lightened her heart.
“So, teach me something else,” she said.
“All right,” Cai said, licking grainy mustard from his thumb. “One of the first things a junior warden learns is how to pull fire from within.” Neala reached for her dagger, but Cai touched her hand, stopping her. “You won’t need it.”
“But—”
“Just trust me,” he said. “We’ll start slow. Close your eyes.” Neala took a deep breath, blew it out and closed her eyes. His voice was low and soothing. “Call forth your power.” A pin-prick of light filled her mind and her heart, expanding into her limbs. “Now imagine that light inside you becoming flame. Pull the energy from within, command it. You are Fire Kael—it must obey.” Heat prickled across her skin, traveling down her arm. Her hand raised from her lap, her fingers trembling as the energy moved through her until a ball of fire burst from her palm. Her eyes flew open and her mouth gaped. A flaming orb crackled, hovering above her hand. She bounced it up and down like a ball. “What happens if I throw it?”
