Of Fire and Stars

by Audrey Coulthurst

  “If anyone else shoots, let go of the reins,” I whispered.

  She nodded and slipped her free hand into mine, sending a shiver of surprise through me. I met her frightened gaze and squeezed back gently. The seconds passed like a held breath until hoofbeats drew close and I let go. The guards slowed as they approached so as not to spook our horses, four additional liegemen behind them.

  “What’s the call?” the head liegeman asked as she drew close.

  “An archer came out of those trees and shot at us,” I said. “I took her down over there.”

  “Stay here,” the head liegeman directed our two original guards. She gestured to a third. “You, perimeter check.” She dismounted and drew her weapon, indicating that the final two liegemen should follow. I pulled a knife from my boot and trailed after them with one last nervous glance at Dennaleia. Even though she was safe with the liegemen, it made me uneasy to leave her.

  The four of us picked our way cautiously across the meadow toward the spot where the archer had fallen. My stomach churned. The silence in the meadow could mean that I had killed her. I had never shot a person before.

  We heard the archer wheezing with pain before we saw her. She lay on her side with my arrow sticking out of her right shoulder. Her short, sandy hair matched the sun-bleached meadow grass. She wore the expression of a cornered stray—and a face I recognized.

  It was the Recusant woman I’d seen stab that fundamentalist at the Pelham. Dread drew its slow claws down my spine.

  A bow lay beside her, a crude and simple instrument that looked a little warped from ill care. No wonder her aim had been so poor. We had been lucky. She lunged toward the bow with her good arm, but the liegemen seized her on both sides and I stepped on the end of the weapon before she could get a grip.

  “Why did you do this?” I asked.

  She hissed with pain and spat toward the feet of the liegemen.

  “The alliance must be stopped at any cost,” she choked out. “But I wasn’t after you.”

  The words offered no comfort—only a rising tide of fear. Of course Dennaleia had been the archer’s target. Her death would guarantee the disintegration of the alliance.

  FIFTEEN

  Dennaleia

  THE DIRECTORATE QUESTIONED THE ARCHER IN THE Great Temple, no doubt for the symbolism it provided: the leadership in Mynaria would not tolerate heretics. When I walked in alongside Thandi, I half expected to go up in flames. My gift had continued to regain strength since the death of the assassin, and the air around me once again felt like it could combust at any moment.

  The dome above the transept let in light and air, chimes hanging from thin cords tinkling in the breeze. The lower tones of the larger chimes in the temple garden were dimly audible even from inside, soft and dissonant under the whispered conversations all around as the Directorate settled down for business.

  “Where’s Amaranthine? Shouldn’t she be here?” I whispered to Thandi. I hadn’t seen her in days. With the castle on lockdown since the capture of the archer, there had been no riding lessons.

  “Ryka wanted her to come, but she refused. She said that she had nothing to add to her statement, that you would be witness enough, and that she had ‘better things to do.’”

  It hurt that she hadn’t shown up. She’d made herself scarce since the attack, and the king’s paranoia about my safety meant all my days had been scheduled to the hilt. But in spite of the liegemen trailing me everywhere, I had felt safer crouched in that meadow with her hand in mine. I missed her. Evidently she didn’t feel the same.

  The Directorate faced the rows of empty temple seats from the middle of the transept, their chairs arranged in a semicircle. Thandi and I took our places on the dais behind them. Once the king settled into his seat between us, silence descended on the room.

  “Bring in the heretic,” the king said.

  Ryka signaled to her liegemen, and a group of four dragged the archer down the aisle and forced her to her knees in front of us. She held her head high in defiance, her shoulder swathed in bandages and her right arm bound to her chest.

  Director Eadric rang his bell and got up without waiting to be formally invited to speak. He teetered forward until he was within a few paces of the archer and then squinted down at her, looking as if he smelled a particularly pungent onion.

  “Have you pondered traveling the infinite paths of purification and repentance? To find your way back to the truth of life, to the Six Gods who watch over us all, benevolent, beauteous, leading our souls into the realms of virtue . . . ?”

  She responded by spitting at his feet.

  Eadric tilted his head at her and then turned to the rest of the Directorate. “We should perform a cleansing ritual,” he said, and then paced around the transept waving his miniature chimes and chanting toward the patch of sky visible through the high glass dome.

  I couldn’t fathom what would make anyone think that a cleansing ritual was a good use of time during what should have been an expeditious interrogation.

  Before Director Eadric had even finished easing his creaky rear end back into his seat, Thandi rang his bell.

  “Motion for Princess Dennaleia to speak,” Thandi said.

  Everyone but Hilara raised their voting pieces in my favor. Clearly the woman would have been as happy to see me shot. I swallowed hard and stood up.

  “Three days past, Princess Amaranthine and I were trail riding when this woman came out of the trees and shot at us,” I said. “Before she fired, she shouted, ‘For the Recusants.’ Amaranthine shot her in the shoulder and then summoned additional guards.”

  I took my seat.

  “Did you shoot at Princesses Amaranthine and Dennaleia?” the king said. He tapped impatiently on the arm of his chair.

  “Yes, and I’d do it again.” The archer looked straight at me as though she’d burn holes through me if she could.

  “Why did you commit the treasonous act of striking out against members of the royal family?” The king looked about ready to run the archer through. It was fortunate for her that weapons were not permitted in the temple.

  “To stop the alliance. All should be allowed access to the High Adytum, no matter their beliefs,” she ranted. “You fools don’t understand the forces at work, and if you did, you’d fear the trap you’ve set up for yourselves by blocking access to those who keep the world in balance. And if I’d still had my husband by my side, I would have taken her in one shot, like I did the steward who brokered this fool’s alliance.” She spat again, and the liegemen surrounding her stepped in.

  Several members of the Directorate gasped and the king surged to his feet, reaching for the empty place where his sword was usually belted. I sat frozen in place, numb with shock. She’d only been trying to kill me. If stopping the alliance was the main objective of the Recusants, in a way Casmiel’s death was on my hands too. My arrival had been their cue to attack. Thandi leaped up, ringing his bell for order until everyone quieted.

  “Captain, what evidence was found at the scene?” Thandi asked, returning to his seat. Though his voice was steady, his grip on the arm of his chair left his knuckles white.

  Captain Ryka stood. “An unremarkable bow and a quiver of white arrows. Two of them had been fired, and we recovered those from the field. But let’s go back to the beginning.” She faced the archer. “How did you murder Casmiel? That was a difficult shot with no clear line of sight, and assuming you used the same weapon we found at the scene three days past, you’d have better luck shooting flies in a windstorm.”

  “The arrow was enchanted to seek him,” she said, looking almost pleased.

  “And to go up in ash?” Captain Ryka prompted. “How?”

  “My husband’s fire Affinity.”

  It shocked me that she let the information go so easily.

  “Where is your husband now?” the king demanded.

  “Dead.” The rage and grief was plain on her face. “Dead because of your stupid alliance and the antimagic
zealots who have taken it upon themselves to ‘cleanse’ the city. People found out about his fire Affinity, and he started getting attacked on the street every night on the way home from work. Joining the Recusants was the only way to fight back. Stopping the alliance is the only way to make Mynaria a safe place for people like him to live.”

  My pulse pounded in my ears. No wonder she didn’t bother lying. She had nothing left to lose. And her husband had been killed for his Affinity—one that might have been just like mine. Except he’d clearly had half a clue how to use his.

  Hilara rang.

  “Who was responsible for the assassination attempt on the king, and where did you obtain the Zumordan blade used in that attempt?” she asked. “Did your husband enchant that weapon?”

  She wanted an explanation for the assassin going up in flames, and the archer’s husband might have been one. Only Alisendi and I knew that it had been me. I took deep breaths and focused on keeping my face expressionless.

  “My husband did whatever would serve our cause,” she replied. “Not that it matters now.”

  “Tell us who else was involved in plotting the attempt on the king,” Hilara asked.

  “I have nothing left to say,” the archer said.

  “She’s playing the fool. These Recusants are clearly working with the Zumordans to take down the alliance and the crown. We should torture her until she confesses. Motion to torture the prisoner!” the director of agriculture said.

  “Denied,” Thandi said, overruling the possibility of a vote. At least he saved the Directorate the embarrassment of that.

  “Make no mistake—you will pay for my brother’s death,” the king said. “We will hunt down everyone dear to you until you reveal the names of anyone else who had a hand in it.”

  “I have no family. My husband is dead. There is nothing left you can take from me.” The archer’s eyes were cold.

  The king sat down and slammed his fist on his chair. I flinched.

  “Motion to hold this prisoner for further questioning about her associates,” Hilara said.

  The directors raised their voting pieces unanimously.

  “Motion to begin detaining, questioning, and punishing all those connected to the Recusants or anyone suspected of having an Affinity,” the Captain Ryka said.

  All twelve directors raised their voting pieces again.

  A scribe recorded the votes as my heart plummeted.

  “At least we know who is behind these attacks now,” Ryka said. “We’ll catch the scum.”

  I couldn’t feel my hands, and I could hardly hear over the frantic beating of my heart as they dragged the archer away. They thought they knew who was responsible for all the attacks, but the archer hadn’t revealed anything about the Zumordan blade. She’d said herself that she had nothing left to lose, so why not confess?

  “It’s all right,” Thandi said, misreading my distress. He took my hand. Numbly, I let him. “She can’t hurt you now.”

  “Of course.” I nodded.

  But it wasn’t the archer I feared. It was the Directorate hunting down magic users—and catching me first.

  Back in my rooms I frantically thumbed through the green book from the library in search of answers about how to hide my Affinity—or better yet, get rid of it. The author of the book had a scholar’s interest in the subject but wasn’t a magic user himself. Long, dry passages described how those with Affinities could use the power in themselves or the environment, but didn’t explain how it was done. He recommended that exercises be done to condition and develop a gift, with no explanation of what those exercises might be. He warned that repression of power could lead to sudden outbursts, and that large expenditures of magic could drain the user for a time. The only somewhat useful note was a mention of the High Adytum, and how working with one’s power in spaces designed for it allowed more focus and control.

  I couldn’t start sleeping in the castle Sanctuary to keep my Affinity in balance, and I couldn’t walk around firing off sparks at random to keep the power from slowly building within me. In a book on great mages, there was no section on princesses who started fires. It was filled with men who could sink fleets of ships with one spell and women who could change history by writing in their own blood. That kind of magic was legend, not reality; theirs were gifts that belonged to gods, not mortals.

  I slammed the book shut and shoved it under my bed in frustration.

  I passed the rest of the afternoon writing and discarding half-drafted letters to my sister, trying to distract myself from my fear. I wanted to ask Ali how to do what she said and get rid of my Affinity, but she wouldn’t have answers, and I would be a fool to incriminate myself in writing. The only answer was to find those responsible for the knife attack so that the Directorate would put their investigation to rest, which meant I needed Amaranthine—even though it upset me that she hadn’t shown up for the questioning. Maybe her request to hear me play the harp wasn’t the overture of friendship I’d hoped. Maybe the way we’d held hands after we were attacked hadn’t meant anything. She didn’t care about the crown. She had no reason to care about me.

  By the time Auna came to ready me for dinner, setting the entire city on fire and riding back to Havemont on a stolen horse had started to seem like the only viable solution to my problems. Auna stood behind me at my vanity, my hair half twisted up into layer upon layer of knots. The thought of one more pin stuck in it made me want to scream.

  “This is the latest fashion in Mynaria,” Auna said, “but I’m adding a few special braids and charms like we use in Havemont. We’ll start a new trend!”

  Auna’s excitement was not contagious.

  All I could think about was the Directorate meeting, and it twisted my stomach into knots even more complex than the ones in my hair.

  “Are you sure you need to put all of it up, Auna? I don’t want to be late for dinner,” I said.

  “But of course, my lady! We can’t have you looking like a child. You must look like a queen. Remind them who you are. Make sure that the proper people approach you. Things are different here than in Spire City,” Auna said.

  I scowled into the mirror, wishing she would tell me something I didn’t already know.

  “I miss Havemont,” I said. “People were less complicated there. The only person who doesn’t behave like a sycophant is Amaranthine, and that’s only because I have nothing to offer her.” That wasn’t entirely true, of course, but Auna didn’t need to know about my research.

  “Don’t waste a moment’s thought on her, my lady. I’m sure it won’t be much longer before she’s married off and you won’t have to see her again.”

  My stomach clenched at the thought. Mare, married? I couldn’t see it, and the suggestion irritated me. Sometimes it seemed like she was the only person in Mynaria with any sense, even though she managed to find her way in and out of trouble as often and nimbly as a mountain goat.

  “Try not to let Lady Amaranthine vex you. Soon you will have a husband and children, and they will keep you far too busy to think of home or of the princess,” Auna said.

  Her knowing smile unnerved me, as did the thought of children. While I wanted them, they had always seemed so far off. But now it was entirely possible I could be a mother by this time next year.

  “Of course, Auna. You are right.” I tried to smooth the brooding expression from my face. Auna’s ability to channel my mother terrified me sometimes.

  “In the meantime you should focus on your relationships with the other nobles as your mother suggested,” Auna said more gently.

  “Everyone wants something from me. I don’t think I have that much to give.” I chose my words carefully, knowing that through Auna they could one day find their way to my mother’s ears. While my face remained impassive, anxiety still gnawed at me. Thandi had been a wonderful resource in deciphering the true intentions of the lesser nobles, rising steadily in my estimation as it became clear how well he knew the intricacies of his court. But of the n
oblewomen I’d met so far, only Ellaeni had impressed me with her lack of obsequiousness and her neutrality about court happenings.

  Perhaps that was why Amaranthine was so threatening—she seemed full of secrets, but also transparent in a way no one else was. There wasn’t a thing in the world she could possibly want from me other than a pair of eyes to pore through library books. If she were to be my friend, it would be on her terms and by her choice. Whether or not I liked her hardly mattered, even if I did extend an invitation to her for something other than horseback riding.

  Research on the knife should have taken precedence. I wanted to be able to give her some useful information, if only to prevent any further harm to the members of the royal family. Rising to the task might prove to her that I was something more than a dull-witted courtier. I needed her as an ally. I wanted her as a friend.

  When she told me on the trail ride to invite her over, she had given me an opportunity. No queen would turn down an opportunity, and vacillating about it wouldn’t solve any problems. The moment Auna left the room, I smoothed my skirts and called for a page to deliver an invitation.

  SIXTEEN

  Mare

  GETTING OUT OF THE CASTLE WAS THE HARD PART. Getting directions and meeting times at the Deaf Dog was the expensive part. But getting into the Recusants’ gathering place looked like it might be easier than I had expected.

  Around the time the Directorate was probably beginning their pointless questioning of the archer who had tried to kill Dennaleia, Nils and I stood outside the abandoned Sanctuary where the Recusants were purported to meet. The neighborhood smelled like a stall overdue for cleaning, and the few people we saw scurried away from us into the shadows like bugs. A dilapidated set of wooden chimes hanging near the door creaked against one another in something too weak to be called a breeze.

  It was easy to see why the Recusants had chosen the building as their meeting place. A wide swath of weed-choked ground separated it from the other nearby buildings. All that space between the buildings meant that in broad daylight there was nowhere to hide and spy. The front entrance appeared to be boarded shut.