The Wishing Heart

by J. C. Welker

  She felt warm and realized all eyes were now looking their way.

  An aura of heat encircled Anjeline, and she shuddered at what she saw. A vibrant face, sure, but the tip ends of her dark hair smoldered like gold fire. Smoky vapors rose off her skin as the runes upon her arms blazed through the sweater, and up from the fabric sprouted tiny black…feathers. If Anjeline had been beautiful before, now she looked nothing short of sacred.

  Every figure stopped, heeding to Anjeline.

  For a moment, Rebel felt inclined to do the same, but she couldn’t pry her eyes away from the sight. Though the power in those cuffs kept it at bay, she now saw a little glimpse of Anjeline’s true form. “You’re glowing,” she whispered.

  “This place jostles her magic,” Piran said.

  “Can’t you feel it?” Anjeline’s voice filled with longing.

  When her eyes met Rebel’s, she shuddered. “You mean the tingles?”

  “Magic. Lots of it. I feel almost at home.”

  “Home.” Rebel might have meant this place, but her gaze remained on Anjeline.

  Magic was everywhere, humming over her like a long-awaited hug. At the end of the hall, a great bronzed door opened as guards on either side heaved them back, and the air thickened. A towering woman stepped through the entrance into the hall. The open sleeves of her ruby robe cascaded down her arms into petals, and around her neck hung a jewel flaring into seven points, like sunrays.

  The woman tinkled in chimes as she walked toward them, wearing bracelets up to her biceps. Two striking black wolves trailed in her steps. The bone plates along their spines rippled, and in three breaths, they reared up onto their back legs and reshaped into a woman and man, covered in pelts. Lycanthropes. Rebel stiffened, but Piran whispered, “They’re the leaders of the Bright Guard.”

  Once the Sidhe woman saw Anjeline, she bowed. “A wishmaker hasn’t graced our Court in centuries.” Her voice echoed around them. “We are honored.”

  “As I am honored to be here.” Anjeline’s feathers receded behind the sweater, making her again look like a mere girl. A smoky, beautiful, and glowing girl.

  The woman’s smile did not fade, nor did any of them take notice of Rebel’s presence. Jewels adorned the woman’s braided hair, crowning her beautiful brown face, and her russet-and-amber eyes dazzled. “There’s been talk of your capture,” the woman added. “Purloined from magician Nero, and now the Prince’s demons are on the hunt?”

  Anjeline nodded. “It’s why we’ve come, to seek refuge.”

  “We?” The woman’s gaze zeroed in on Rebel then, and the corners of her lips snared. “This is the Fingersmith who absconded you? You dare grace my Court with your filth?”

  Rebel sighed. “Why do you all keep thinking I don’t bathe?”

  The woman scowled at her as one might look at an insect, annoyed and ready to snap it between her fingers. “I assume you’ve brought the Wishmaker before me to barter for something? What is your tempting greed?”

  Rebel met her glare. “Just because I’m not one of you doesn’t make me greedy.”

  At first, she thought the woman would strike her where she stood, for a look of ravenous hunger erased her gracefulness. Those eyes stared at Rebel so hard, she felt as if she would collapse under it. The wolf guards rearranged, all fur and claws pointed, eyeing her satchel and scenting its contents, ready for a command to react.

  “Stop.” Anjeline thrust an arm out in a fog of heat, and they jerked back. “Rebel is my protector. Threaten her and you threaten me.”

  The sharpness leaked from the woman’s face into confusion. In a rush, Piran was at her side, placing a kiss upon the woman’s bejeweled hand and bowing low. She finally noticed him and caressed one of his leathery wings. “Piran? You have returned.”

  “I’ve been under the Siren’s sway.” He whispered things into her ear. “Fingersmith, Rebel.” He nodded to her then between them. “Noble overseer of the Court, Lady Danu.”

  The Lady’s impenetrable gaze stayed on her. “You’re the one who helped him?”

  “I…is.” Rebel’s tongue caught. “I mean, I am.”

  With a wave of fingers, Lady Danu’s guards stepped away, then she stretched out a hand. Before Rebel had time to consider it, she felt compelled to bend low to take it. “This Rebel has safeguarded you, Wishmaker? You claim this human?” the Lady asked, running fingers through Rebel’s hair and mussing it with a chuckle.

  Hazy heat suffused the air. Anjeline drew near, smoothed Rebel’s hair back down, and said, “I do. She’s aided me in seeking out liberation from my imprisonment. She’s been braver than any I have known. For me.”

  Rebel willed her expression to not give away how pleased she felt by those words.

  The Lady offered a grandiose bow. “You have a safe haven here. Welcome to the Court, Rebel.” Side by side, they followed her down the hall as the bronzed doors slid open into the Court of the Sun.

  The Council Chamber of the Court sat in the middle of the palace, the center of a circle of magic. Crystal columns supported the vaulted ceiling into three domes. Silk banners caressed the walls next to a sword sculpture in the shape of flared pinions, and a lone harpsichord played music in the corner. A mosaic table of black-and-white marble shaped into a star took up the middle of the chamber, where a dozen council members varied in dress and colors went about their business.

  Some paused to stare as they entered, while Lady Danu took to studying Rebel. “Tell me, how good of a Fingersmith are you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

  “That’s being modest.” Anjeline eyed her then looked to the Lady. “She could steal your jewel as fast as she could steal your heart.”

  Turning a little warm, Rebel averted her gaze, but Piran’s eyes swayed between them.

  The Lady’s smile came to rest on her again. “And what is the levy of your service for the Wishmaker, Rebel, who pilfers but is not greedy?”

  “Levy?”

  “We have a contract,” Anjeline answered. “A wish, once I’m freed.”

  There was sadness laced in her voice, and Rebel couldn’t bear hearing it. “A levy isn’t important right now,” she said, ignoring her heart telling her otherwise. “Finding answers is.”

  The Lady canted her head. “Wishes have costs. As do answers.”

  Her words cast unease in Rebel. A buzz of uncomfortable whispers increased around them, and she noticed they were gathering looks. Farther down the table, statuesque beings suited in high collars waited for Lady Danu, their eyes sparkling at them with curiousness, envy, and desire—and open disdain.

  “Forgive them,” the Lady told Rebel. “Your presence has caused much alarm as you are sought by the Prince—and nameless magicians are not normally granted entrance to the Court.”

  “Well, I’m no magician,” she said. “I’m a magicless misfit of none.”

  Layers of Lady Danu’s gown fluttered as she turned toward her, eyeballing her. “It’s for our security. The Court is the heart of magic where we govern among the Steelworld. Unsanctioned magicians are no longer allowed entrance, ever since Nero.”

  A rush of sultry vapors wafted off Anjeline, and Rebel’s eyes locked onto hers in confusion. “Wait… He used to be among the noble magicians?”

  Lady Danu’s face contorted, a distant memory appearing. “To some, the darkness slides off, but to others, it seeps in,” she said. “Nero welcomed it with open arms. Siphoned others’ magic to increase his own, including some of his own kin.”

  “He butchered his kin.” Anjeline’s eyes clouded with the ghosts of people she had spoken about. Of the dark magician, her captor.

  The Lady moved to the tallest wall of the Court. An enormous cluster of engravings covered the wall, depictions of battles, winged creatures rising from the clouds, mermaids from the sea, tails and horns twisting into curlicues under an enormous sun. As she touched the carving, it seemed to come alive, as though needing to whisper its tale.
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br />   “Every story has a beginning,” she said. “Nero’s started with death.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Centuries ago, the Sidhe were one folk together, living alongside each other, and alongside the humans and the beasts. Until there was an uprising…”

  Anjeline watched as the enormous carving awakened with the Lady’s words. The engraving morphed, manifesting figures clashing in battle, all wings and horns and magic. Fanged lycanthropes danced around swords, feyrie knights crawled along the smoke-filled sky, giant creatures breathed puffs of fire, and sirens clawed beneath a marbled sea.

  “We direct the magnetic currents of the earth’s magic, but with power comes hunger. Some of the Sidhe wanted to rule over all. To keep our folk from annihilating each other and the world, a truce law was enacted. Two courts and the parting of our people. The Sun Court rules the blessed Sidhe, governing with the Steelworld at daylight. Whereas the Moon Court, the unblessed, governs come midnight. The truce has maintained balance. It is enforced with codes and patrols against those who break them.”

  The engraving altered, molding like clay, forming a circle of magicians.

  “Victor Nero came from one of the most powerful magus families, who aided the Sun Court in capturing truce breakers. Which brought them countless enemies…” Lady Danu took a breath. “One night years ago, a group of banshees possessed Nero’s family, destroyed their minds until they destroyed one another. Watched them burn each other alive with magic. After that, he blamed all Sidhe alike, turning to forbidden magic.”

  This time, the wall displayed a summoning circle and a being of fire.

  Rebel looked at Anjeline. “That’s when he summoned you?”

  “That’s when Nero sold his soul for revenge and imprisoned me,” she said through clenched teeth. “Searching out others in hopes of finding that unselfish heart to wish for him.”

  With a finger, Lady Danu drew a circle in the air and the carving revealed a blur of countless human figures. She went on. “Many hearts were sacrificed at the altar of Nero’s ambition, forcing them to wish for his immortality.”

  Memories flickered behind Anjeline’s eyes, the wishes she’d been forced to cast, fueling his vile gains—she’d been defenseless to stop it. In ancient times, she had drifted among the human world like a phantom, carrying out Solomon’s endeavors, persevering his kingdom as his champion, and now she was forced to fight for her freedom. Her emotions must have shown, because Rebel moved to her side, as if she could offer comfort.

  “Besides the obvious reason, why does he want immortality?” Rebel persisted.

  “Nero plans to overthrow our Courts,” Lady Danu said. “so he can take full control of the magnetic currents of the earth’s magic …”

  “And if he’s immortal, who can stop him?” Anjeline filled in grimly.

  Rebel trailed her fingers along the bottom lines of the carving. “But he’s unable to find a selfless heart?”

  “As of yet. Though he was searching for a particular one.” Lady Danu walked down the length of the wall, moving a hand over the engraving, and it molded into three figures. “After his family’s demise, and before the Magus Order knew of Nero turning to forbidden magic, he’d fallen in deep devotion with another powerful magician, LaFay. From their love came a child. When LaFay found out his betrayal, she ran with the child, knowing he would want to use it. No one has heard from Magician LaFay since.”

  “What happened to the child?”

  “Many magicians have attempted to seek it out. Some believe Nero has already found the child. Used its heart.”

  All heads turned to Anjeline.

  “I…” She paused. “Didn’t know any of their names.” The words clawed their way out of her throat as she thought of the boy and many others, if one had been Nero’s child. She forced the pain down in her smoky insides, but countless images assaulted her. Lives she saw waste away, making heat roil in her gut. The more she ignored it, the more she remembered the screams. The wishes. Chests red with blood. The man with half a soul.

  Gentle eyes were on her, Rebel reading her so easily. “It’s not your fault. His family was killed, so he murdered to seek vengeance. He turned into a monster,” Rebel voiced, but an echo of Nero’s hid behind it.

  Anjeline tried pushing it away. “There’s darkness inside all of us, and there are prices to pay when we let it out,” she said. “It was my magic he used to destroy.” She remembered the ways in which Nero manipulated her power, the belief she would never be freed. Because wasn’t it my power casting the wishes? And if there was suffering, some of the responsibility for it had to be hers to accept. That was Jinn law.

  Rebel shook her head. “We aren’t defined by what others do to us,” she said. Her fingers lightly nudged Anjeline’s, and her essence gave a little spark at the contact, her pain fading as quickly as Rebel had touched her.

  Lady Danu cleared her throat and the engraving fashioned back to its original battle scene. “Either way, Nero’s power has grown from magic he’s absorbed from sacrificing half his soul. ’Tis no doubt why the Wishmaker’s imprisonment is difficult to break. There may be ways, however. We shall consult the Fates in your quest.”

  “Fates?” Rebel’s brows inched closer to her widow’s peak. She nudged Anjeline with an elbow, and a playful smile pulled at her lips. “Told you it was fate that I found you.”

  Anjeline knew the gentle teasing was for her benefit. “Well, I don’t keep you around for your devilishly good looks,” she said and watched Rebel’s aura turn a pink tinge. Again, it happened, that tingling in her core. It must mean something—nothing to do with their plight, and more to do with a human.

  “It’s fate that brought you here,” Lady Danu added. “The Sisters of the Thread can only be glimpsed during this time of the Solstitium, winter solstice. But first you must go through the ceremony.” A group of council members stood as a woman carrying scrolls zipped in and bowed to the Lady. “Allow me to calm my Court. Piran will take you to be cleansed for the ritual beginning.”

  Rebel stiffened. “Ritual?”

  She nodded. “Enjoy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “‘Enjoy?’ Is this some sort of punishment?”

  Too easy. Anjeline laughed. She stood in the bathing chamber, watching as a rosy stain tinted Rebel’s cheeks with her question. How someone blushing could be so pleasing to watch, she had no idea. But after everything they had been through, she welcomed the sight. Lavish robes draped around them both, concealing their nakedness underneath. Piran had led them through the palace Court, to a sapphire chamber housing a pool. Except, to Rebel’s surprise, the water contained minute creatures.

  Anjeline nudged her. “You humans call it a bath.”

  Several small waterfalls streamed down the stone walls, kissing together in the pool. Sprites hovered above, filling the waters with oils, flower petals, and an explosion of scents for the ritual bath. “Looks more like I’m about to be made into a sacrificial stew,” Rebel said.

  Piran snorted. “If we were to sacrifice someone, they would be more intelligent.” He poked her arm. “Get in. You smell like a dratted bathhouse.”

  Alas, Rebel wouldn’t budge. Instead, her grip tightened on her satchel. She squinted furiously at everyone, refusing to dip a toe into the pool or remove her robe.

  “Don’t worry.” Piran eyed her. “You have nothing I desire. Though I can’t speak for a jinni.” He waved his hand, a vapid gesture with complete intentions.

  Anjeline ignored him, though she imagined Rebel felt more like a feline about to be flung into a witch’s tub. With everything they had been thrown into, Rebel didn’t need to be plunked into one more foreign experience. What she needed was a distraction and motivation.

  A wicked grin came over Anjeline. “I’ll go first,” she said.

  In one fell swoop, she dropped the robe.

  As the air hit her skin, she heard an audible gasp behind her. The robe slid to the floor, revealing the mo
st delicate of golden runes climbing up her arms, around her shoulders, and channeling down her spine to her tailbone.

  Anjeline now stood in nothing but what the Creator had made her.

  Rebel’s eyes glazed over and her mouth slightly hung, looking as if she’d stopped breathing. She really is too easy. Anjeline internally laughed. So overcome by the beauty of flesh. Still, she would be lying if she didn’t find the expression on Rebel’s face gratifying.

  Once she descended into the steaming pool, she released a satisfied moan, all the while aware of Rebel’s stare. Sprites came to fidget in her hair and strung soap about her shoulders. Finally, she looked up into eyes gazing steadily back at her. “Well? Are you coming in?” Rebel mumbled something. “What was that?”

  “Turn around, please.”

  Anjeline chuckled. “Bashful, are you?”

  Nevertheless, as asked, Piran went behind a woven room divider, and Anjeline turned around, not wanting to push anymore. It was clear Rebel had hit her peak of vulnerability.

  After a moment, she heard the soft whisper of water parting and slapping the edge of the pool. Then came a whimper. Anjeline swirled back around to Rebel’s scrunched up face as she sank lower in the bath. The sprites swept about, pouring water over Rebel’s hair, every pair of eyes inspecting her, making her slink farther down, leaving her shoulders poking through the surface. Her pendant dangled from her neck, dipping below just where the water cut off any further sight of skin.

  And bruises, Anjeline noted, wanting to cup water in her hand and pour it over Rebel’s entire body. She shook the thought away. “The waters will help speed up your healing.”

  Rebel ran a hand over the liquid surface, marveling as it gleamed. A sprite landed on her shoulder, fanning its wings against her skin. “Don’t see why we have to go through this torture,” she mumbled. “Why can’t we consult the Fates now?”

  “The temple isn’t opened yet.” Piran came out from behind the divider. “One night each year during the Solstitium, the Fate’s temple opens. But one must undergo the purification ritual to enter. You’re lucky you’re here at this time.”