Of Fire and Stars

by Audrey Coulthurst

  Once the music wound to its close, the princess curtsied to Cas amidst thunderous applause. It was a showcase, no doubt—he was among the best dancers at court. He then offered his arm to his wife, Ryka, the captain of the guard. I had no idea what he saw in her grave demeanor and severe uniform, but he was the only one who could make her laugh. A pang of fondness for my uncle hit me in spite of my earlier frustration with him.

  The musicians picked up a bright peasant tune, clearing my head of the dancing princess. If one pretty piece of music could addle me into thinking she was attractive, it was definitely time to leave. I slipped out the door, chucked my offensive shoes behind a nearby shrub, and stalked off to my quarters. I’d had more than enough of being a princess for one day.

  THREE

  Dennaleia

  I ENTERED BREAKFAST ON MY SECOND DAY IN MYNARIA with one mission: to redeem myself after the disasters of my first. Sheer white curtains along the east side of a high balcony blocked the morning sun, shimmering softly like drifting clouds. Beyond the arcade, the city of Lyrra spread out below us in a burst of colorful rooftops trailing down the hillside and onto the plains. Prince Thandilimon walked over to greet me as soon as I arrived.

  “Good morning, my lady,” he said. “I trust you slept well?”

  I hadn’t, thanks to lying awake haunted by everything that had gone wrong the day before. The unabating heat hadn’t helped, either. Fortunately, he didn’t wait for my answer before continuing.

  “A few of my father’s most trusted advisers have joined us today,” he said, gesturing to a group of dignitaries caught up in a conversation about archery.

  King Aturnicus stood near the head of the table, having a more serious discussion with a dark-skinned woman who fixed me with a glare that could have melted glass. I recognized her immediately as Hilara, the director of foreign relations. My mother had warned me about her. Hilara’s vote for a Zumordan alliance had been overturned in favor of the one with Havemont, and apparently her ire had never faded. A deep-blue dress almost as sheer as the curtains clung to her willowy frame, and while she looked rather young, judging by her long history on the Directorate, she had to be at least my mother’s age.

  I returned her glare with a gentle smile, even as my heart quickened with fear and magic prickled at my fingertips. Ever since leaving Havemont, I had felt my gift closer to the surface, rising at the slightest emotional provocation.

  “Let’s go speak to my father,” the prince said.

  Fortunately, the king stepped away from Hilara to meet us. He shared Thandilimon and Casmiel’s fair hair, but his eyes were more gray than blue, like Amaranthine’s, which reminded me that I hadn’t seen her yet. Where was she?

  “It’s such a pleasure to have you here, Princess,” the king said.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” I curtsied.

  “No need to be too formal among family,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll be relying on you to keep this son of mine in line. It has been too long since we’ve had a woman’s touch about the place.”

  I stared at him, trying to decide how to react. I wasn’t sure what he meant, given that many of the directors were women. I looked to Thandilimon for guidance, but he only shrugged sheepishly.

  “Let us take our seats,” the king said, ushering us toward the table.

  Before anyone could sit, the curtains rippled as Amaranthine swept onto the balcony, her face flushed.

  “Late as always,” the prince muttered as he escorted me to the end of the table between Hilara and the king.

  No one else paid Amaranthine any attention, but I couldn’t stop sneaking glances, shocked that nobody made her apologize. Her green dress made her hair glow like fire, and she wore the gown as well as she had her livery the day before.

  I finally tore my eyes away as Thandilimon sat down across from me. He smiled warmly, which I hoped was a sign that he had put the previous day behind us.

  The servants dashed around, delivering an extra piece of flatware—a spoon the size of my smallest finger—for the first course. I marveled at it, wondering if we were to eat poached fleas or some other absurd delicacy. But instead I was presented with a shallow bowl filled with ice chips, upon which rested something that looked like a wobbly gray hunk of old liver inside a jagged shell. It looked like something the palace cats might throw up. I tried not to panic.

  “Your Highness, Casmiel has told me that you’ll be taking riding lessons with Mare?” Hilara said.

  She would have to ask me about the only thing I dreaded more than eating the horror on my plate.

  “Yes, Director,” I said, forcing my face into a benevolent smile. “I look forward to learning more about the warhorses.”

  The dark expression on Amaranthine’s face almost convinced me that she, not I, was the one at the table most likely to set something on fire.

  Everyone else busied themselves with the food on their plates, some applying a bit of what smelled like vinegar and shallots. They swallowed the things whole right from the shells, slime and all.

  “Tastes like a perfect day on the ocean,” Hilara commented with a venomous smile. A challenge.

  I tipped the shell to my lips and let the whole thing slide down my throat as the others had. Brine filled my mouth, salty, cold—and shockingly delicious. I smiled and set the empty shell back on my plate.

  “Quite lovely,” I said. “Where does one get these?”

  “They’re Royal Cove oysters from Trindor province,” Thandilimon said. “We usually only have them in winter, but a Trindori noblewoman is visiting court this season, and her family sent them as a gift to the crown. These are the only ones they harvest in summer, extra deep in the ocean where the water is cooler, and they have this diving equipment—”

  “Now, now, Thandi, I doubt Princess Dennaleia shares your enthusiasm for sea exploration or marine life,” the king said.

  “Sorry,” the prince said, embarrassed. “I’ve always wanted to see the ocean.”

  “I understand,” I said. Like me, he had no doubt spent enough time at his studies to find out how big the world truly was—and to realize how little time he would have to explore it thanks to his future duties as king. “I’ve never seen the ocean either, but at least I grew up in one kingdom and now have the opportunity to live in another. I can’t wait to see more of Mynaria.”

  “Oh, but we’ll have to do something about the Recusants before we can have you out in the city.” Hilara sat back, looking smug.

  “Recusants?” I asked. I had never heard the word before, nor had I heard about any problems that would impact my presentation to the people of Mynaria.

  “Nothing to be too concerned about,” Casmiel said. “The Recusants are a rather elusive group of heretics unhappy about the alliance, since it will block magic users from accessing the High Adytum in Havemont.”

  I frowned. That had not been part of the terms of the alliance. Most magic users were from the eastern kingdom of Zumorda. They had no temples of their own, as they did not believe in the Six Gods—only the power of magic—but they considered the High Adytum a place of pilgrimage for their middle-of-summer rituals. In Havemont, the Zumordans and other magic users had always come and gone in peace.

  “Defacing buildings with their symbol or burning them down outright is plenty of cause for concern, if you ask me,” Hilara said.

  “It’s to be expected from a bunch of magic-loving traitors,” the king growled, mopping bits of caviar from his mustache. “We’ll purge them from both kingdoms in time.”

  The metal of my fork grew so hot in my hand that I dropped it on the table. I was shocked. No one had ever told me that my marriage meant magic users were unwelcome not only in Mynaria, but in my homeland as well. If an official ban came to pass, strife would undoubtedly follow.

  “Protecting our citizens comes first, of course,” Casmiel said. “But we must proceed carefully in accordance with the law to keep people happy with the leadership. We wouldn’t want to compromise the
fondness your people have for you, Your Majesty.”

  “Of course not,” the king said, mollified by Casmiel’s reasoning.

  “But if the Recusants are responsible for violence in the city, we should round them up and punish them now before they become a bigger problem,” Thandilimon said. “We can’t have them threatening the safety of the kingdom.”

  “The antimagic fundamentalists are responsible for most of the outright violence,” said Captain Ryka. Her tone suggested she was the sort of person with little patience for anything but facts.

  “This all would have been avoided if we had set up an alliance with Zumorda by now,” Hilara said, clearly enjoying the quarrel she’d stirred up.

  “We can’t ally with a kingdom run by heretics.” The king waved his knife to emphasize his words.

  “Clearly the best response to something you don’t understand is to attack it,” Amaranthine said, her sarcasm sharp enough to cut.

  I clutched my hands tightly around my cool glass, desperate to hold in my magic and not to reveal any anger or fear. The king and the Directorate clearly not only hated magic users, but also planned to persecute them based on the consummation of the alliance. I had to try to smooth things over until I could find out more.

  “Perhaps there is another way to placate these Recusants and prevent further violence?” I offered. “Few of them would make it to the High Adytum in their lifetimes. Perhaps it’s a matter of finding them a new place of worship locally.”

  Casmiel nodded thoughtfully.

  “But they’re apostates,” Thandilimon said. “The crown can’t risk looking like we support a group of heretic magic users.”

  “Of course not,” I agreed. “It’s crucial to find a solution that satisfies both sides and lessens the backlash from the fundamentalists. Perhaps it would help to learn more about what each group wants?”

  “True,” Thandilimon said. “It couldn’t hurt to gather more information.”

  Hilara frowned, no doubt irritated that she couldn’t find fault with my suggestion.

  “Princess Dennaleia has a good point,” Casmiel said. “It hasn’t been easy to track down the Recusants, though. No one is eager to trade information pertaining to magic.”

  Amaranthine looked at Casmiel keenly then. “Maybe if my afternoons were free, I’d be able to help—”

  “You have lessons to teach,” the king cut her off. “This is the last I want to hear of you trying to get out of it.”

  I winced as she slumped back in her chair. We barely knew each other and she already hated me. I had to change that. If I couldn’t win over another princess, it would be preposterous to consider myself worthy of a queen’s crown. After so many years of etiquette lessons, I should have been able to charm snow out of a clear blue sky.

  “Eadric, what do you advise on the matter?” the prince asked. “Surely our director of religion should weigh in, since this is so closely tied to the proper worship of the Six.”

  Everyone turned to the far end of the table, where Director Eadric was slowly consuming a noodle of interminable length in a way that precluded speech. He had nearly white hair and the distinguished look of a seasoned courtier, but his gaze seemed rather vacant.

  “Showing the Recusants a path to the light is the only way,” he finally said. He sketched the symbol of the wind god languidly over the table with his fork, a noodle still dangling.

  Everyone stared at him except the king, who had moved on to gnawing on a leg of smoked chicken, sucking the meat directly off the bone. The news of unrest in the city and policy changes to the alliance made me wonder what other watered-down information Havemont had been receiving, leaving me uninformed.

  The conversation eventually picked up again and turned to more general topics, but I could not stop worrying about what else I didn’t know. Each course was more picturesque and delectable than the last, and yet I scarcely tasted the food. We rose from our seats to mingle for the final course, a jewellike dessert with a flavor like violets, served with fresh berries and a milk caramel that had been lightened with whipped cream. Amaranthine took the opportunity to vanish, giving everyone something to complain about for the remainder of the breakfast in between talking about some of the formal events they hoped I would help plan. By the time it was over, my feet could not carry me to my chambers quickly enough. I wanted to do something useful—not be responsible for the social calendar of every noble in Lyrra.

  “Your Highness.” Casmiel caught up to me in the hallway before I called a page. “May I walk you to your rooms?”

  “Of course, my lord,” I said, and took his arm.

  “I apologize for Amaranthine’s attitude about the lessons,” Casmiel said.

  “It’s understandable,” I said. “She’s so busy, and I hate to take her away from her other duties. Perhaps there is someone else who could teach me?” It couldn’t hurt to make one last attempt to escape the lessons, particularly if it might put me on better terms with Amaranthine.

  “There’s no better instructor,” Casmiel said. “She’s a bit rough around the edges, but she has a good heart. Truly. Give her a chance.”

  “Of course. I am sure she’s quite skilled.” I forced a small smile. Her teaching skills weren’t the problem. Of the two of us, she was the one not interested in giving me a chance. She seemed eager to spend her time doing almost anything else.

  “She’s the most skilled rider in or out of these walls. And she has a way of sometimes turning up with useful information, even if it’s gathered from sources that are, shall we say . . . unconventional.”

  “Oh?” I said, curious what he meant.

  We stopped at the end of my hallway, out of earshot of the liegemen patrolling near my door.

  “But I’d like to talk about you for a moment,” he said. “You’ve only just arrived, but I see in you all the things I hoped to. You listen and observe. You pay attention to people and relationships. You understand how to help people with divergent opinions find common ground, as you did during the discussion about the Recusants this morning. You also stepped in to keep Mare and Thandi from each other’s throats yesterday, and that’s no small feat.”

  His compliments bloomed in me like morning glories unfurling toward the sun. Everything since my arrival had felt like a series of accidents, and it heartened me that he had seen more to me than those mishaps.

  “Thandilimon has much of his father in him,” he said. “They are strong, charismatic people in need of temperance from time to time. It is important for them to have trusted advisers who can keep them steady. That is who I am for King Aturnicus. That is who I hope you will be for Thandi.”

  I nodded, feeling stripped bare by the depth of his gaze. He had Amaranthine’s intensity without any of her harshness. “It is my deepest wish to be of service to the kingdom however I can,” I said.

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” he said. “If you’re interested, I’d like to take the time to meet with you each day after your riding lessons to discuss matters pertaining to the Directorate and the governance of the kingdom. It’s a lot to add to your already busy schedule, but I see that it matters to you. I hope you will consider me a friend and a mentor during your ascension.”

  Hope surged in me. I didn’t care that meeting with him would take up the only remaining free time in my days, which would soon be booked with mornings full of social breakfasts with courtiers, afternoons riding with Amaranthine, and evening dinners or entertainment with the royal family. Casmiel could help me lay the groundwork to become the ruler I aspired to be.

  “Nothing would please me more,” I said.

  “Excellent. We can begin tomorrow,” he said, his crow’s-feet crinkling as he smiled and bowed a farewell.

  I entered my rooms giddy with the promise of Casmiel’s mentorship, too excited to bother closing the door. Tingles of magic danced through my arms and fingers. Auna, my maid, looked up from the embroidery she sat working on near the windows and beamed to see me so happy.
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  I imagined a cleansing breeze rushing through my rooms, blowing away all my fears and doubts. Behind me, the door to my rooms slammed shut, and I stopped in my tracks. The sensation in my arms had completely vanished, and my head spun a little.

  “My lady . . . is the door to your chambers weighted?” Auna asked, her voice tentative.

  “I don’t know,” I said. Fear eased in where the magic had been seconds before.

  “It must have been a breeze that closed it.” She sketched the symbol of the wind god in the air.

  “Yes, a breeze,” I murmured in agreement.

  But as it had been everywhere in the castle that morning, the air was absolutely still.

  FOUR

  Mare

  AFTER NEARLY A WEEK OF ONEROUS COURT EVENTS following Princess Dennaleia’s arrival, I had no intention of spending my last morning of freedom inside the castle walls. Just after dawn I let myself into the liegemen’s barracks and yanked the covers off my best friend, Nils.

  “Time to go out on the town!” I said cheerfully.

  He groaned. “By the Six, why do you do this to me?”

  I gave him a few good knocks until he swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit up.

  “It’s too early to have one of your girls in the barracks,” a nearby bunkmate complained, flipping over and mashing a pillow over his ears.

  Nils stood and rummaged through his trunk for a shirt. We were the same age, but somehow in the past few years he’d outgrown me and turned into a broad-shouldered liegeman with the kind of biceps that made his vocation obvious and most of the women—and some of the men—in the castle take note.

  “I’ll meet you at breakfast in a quarter sunlength,” I said. “Don’t be late.”

  In spite of the curses he grumbled at my back, I knew he wouldn’t be far behind.

  We ate a quick breakfast and took off on horseback—Nils on his gray gelding, Holler, and me on a nondescript mare borrowed without permission from the pen of green four-year-olds. The clop of our horses’ hooves and the metallic squeak of my mare champing on her snaffle quickly got lost amidst the noise of other traffic as we rode into Lyrra. The enormous stone houses of wealthy nobles towered on either side of us, surrounded by gated gardens and footpaths that were already swept clean for the new day.