Of Fire and Stars

by Audrey Coulthurst

  “You’re the one who knows your way around. I thought you had a plan!” Panic rose in me. Ellaeni could pretend I was in her rooms for a private dinner for only so long. If we couldn’t get back in, and our disguises were discovered, the consequences would be dire. My magic surged and some dry grass nearby began to smoke. I clenched my fists and said a mental prayer to the earth god for patience and calm.

  “I did have a plan—a plan about how to get you out.”

  “Don’t you think getting back in is a pretty crucial part of that?” My temper grew shorter by the moment. Some part of me recognized that it was silly to be so agitated, but I could not quell the frustration—or the magic that had been begging for an escape since I’d touched Karov’s blade.

  “Let me boost you up,” Mare said.

  “For the last time, no!” I pushed off from the wall with one hand, intending to head toward one of the gates. But before my hand left the stone, magic raced from my fingertips. The rocks seemed to come to life beneath my touch, growing hot as the mortar between them crumbled into dust. A portion fell in with a thunderous crack, leaving only a heap of smoldering rubble. All the rage I’d felt only moments prior completely vanished as though it had poured out of me into the stone.

  “What in the Sixth Hell was that? Are you all right?” Mare asked, concerned.

  I stared at the rubble, too afraid to answer her. If Mare discovered my gift and told Thandi or the king, my life would crumble like the wall. Even more disturbing was that I had no idea how I’d made the rocks give way. The incident in the library had seemed like a fluke—I thought perhaps it was my fire gift that had melted my fingerprint into the wall. My power had never been of the earth. Something was much more wrong with me than the unstable ambient magic in Mynaria could explain.

  “Did that creep at the Blitz put an enchantment on you?” She touched my shoulder.

  “Maybe it was that dagger,” I said, latching onto the excuse. “It was Zumordan.”

  “It must have had an enchantment on it, like the arrow that killed Cas. I don’t trust Karov, especially knowing that he’s somehow connected to Hilara. This has to be his fault somehow. Come on and help me fix this.” She crawled through and beckoned for me to follow, her expression drawn and preoccupied.

  We crouched down on the other side and stacked the rocks as best we could to close the hole, the stones still warm with magic in my hands. I took slow breaths, trying to calm myself and ignore Mare’s sidelong glances. Between the assassin, the homeless man yelling at us in the street, Karov’s dagger, and the collapse of the wall, it couldn’t take much longer for her to figure out that I was the common denominator.

  By the time we finished patching up the wall, the filth on our clothes made a more perfect disguise than we’d started with earlier in the afternoon. Mare didn’t even bother brushing the dirt from her breeches after she stood. She gestured for me to walk beside her as we made our way to the barn.

  Crickets hummed in the grass, serenading the setting sun.

  “I’m sorry I argued with you about getting back in,” I said.

  “It’s all right. I should have thought it through a little better,” Mare conceded.

  “Well, I still shouldn’t have been so belligerent about it.” A yawn punctuated my words as we entered the granary.

  “It’s all right. Let’s get you changed.” Mare watched the door as I pulled off the peasant clothes. As reluctant as I’d been to don them, my riding habit now felt dreadfully stiff in comparison, even without the corset.

  “Don’t you have something else to wear?” I asked her.

  “Nah, people are used to seeing me look like this or worse. It’s nothing new.”

  “That’s so unfair.” I shot her a rueful look. As skeptical as I had been about wearing peasant clothes, I had to admit it was liberating. I didn’t have to perform my role as princess, and I understood now why Mare valued her freedom and anonymity in town.

  “You still look like a bit of a wreck yourself. We’d better keep to the shadows.” She smiled. “I’ll walk you.”

  I smiled back. It struck me then that it was the first time she had accompanied me back from the barn. For once she didn’t disappear into her horse’s stall or take off like there was somewhere else she’d rather be. We set off together, walking companionably side by side without needing any words.

  Dusk hung heavy in the sky as we approached the castle. Birds winged to their nests for the night as we made our way through the gardens, gravel crunching beneath our feet. The heady perfume of late-summer blossoms greeted us through each arched gateway, every garden a miniature universe of sensory delights. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Mynaria had its charms.

  “Oof.” My eyes flew open as I bumped into Mare, who had stopped.

  “Look there,” she said. A spark drifted between the trees, winking out into the dark.

  “What was that?” I said, curious.

  “Shhh,” she said. “Keep watching.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Wait. There!” She put a hand on my shoulder and pointed across the garden, where another tiny light drifted. Another followed, and soon more and more of them moved among the trees, leaving soft yellow trails through the dusk.

  “What are those?” I whispered, full of wonder.

  “Fireflies,” Mare replied. “We’re lucky to see them so late in summer.”

  She took my hand without further words. I squeezed back and stepped closer to her. We stood there as night crept over the gardens, making the fireflies glow ever brighter in the dimming light.

  When Mare finally released my hand and headed toward home, I trailed behind her, letting her lead. I could have stayed forever in that garden with her and the fireflies, empty of magic, filled with hope, wanting nothing more than to share that space with her. Had the garden felt as magical and surreal to her?

  “I had fun today,” I finally said when we stopped in the stairwell leading up to my rooms. “More than fun. It was the best day I’ve had since I got here.”

  “Be careful—my troublemaking ways are corrupting you,” she joked.

  “I mean it. Everything. The pub, the market, the fireflies . . .” I wished I could take her hand again and capture the perfection of the day there between us.

  “It was nothing. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Next time we’ll plan better. And stay out of the Blitz.” She tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.

  My fingers twitched reflexively, as though itching to have done it for her.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said, and departed with a quick wave.

  “See you,” I echoed. As she walked away, something tugged on the thread that held me together. If she pulled too hard, my life was bound to unravel. Somehow my desire for her friendship had turned into something more pressing—something more like need.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Mare

  THE MORNING AFTER OUR ADVENTURE IN TOWN, I DUG the blade out from the back of my vanity drawer, still wrapped in Denna’s silk handkerchief. Delicate pine trees decorated the edge of the cloth, embroidered in an asymmetrical pattern that shone with silver and green threads. I paused with my hand on the edge of the weapon, hesitated, and then slipped the silk handkerchief off and tucked it back into the drawer before leaving my rooms. I liked having something of hers.

  The hallways to my father’s study had never seemed so long, and I wanted to run instead of walk. However, I doubted that arriving out of breath was likely to help my case. He needed to take me seriously, as did the Directorate. What Denna and I had discovered could change everything.

  “I need to speak to the king immediately,” I told the liegemen outside the door.

  The liegeman on the left cleared his throat. “I’m afraid King Aturnicus is not here at the moment, Your Highness.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Directorate business, I believe.”

  I growled in frustration. “I need to see him. I�
�ll wait for him in here.”

  “Well . . . I suppose that might be all right.” He peered out from the visor of his helmet, squinting as though my face made no sense to him.

  “Of course it’s all right.” I straightened and looked him in the eye. He hesitated only a moment longer before opening the door. I couldn’t believe a new recruit had been assigned to guard any room of the king’s—more proof that Captain Ryka wasn’t doing her job. It raised my suspicions all over again in spite of Nils’s defense of her. Captain Ryka had loved Cas dearly and would never have hurt him, but concocting a war with Zumorda would certainly be a good way for her to find herself in a grave alongside him. Maybe that was what she wanted.

  My footfalls made little sound on the plush rug as I entered the room. Stacks of vellum and parchment were scattered haphazardly across the desk, and more piled on the floor. How could my father ever manage to find anything in the chaos? I had never paid close attention to castle business, but the stacks had grown since Cas’s death. The mess made me wonder who had been taking care of trade agreements and guild petitions since then.

  The door to the study swung open as I reached out to examine a few loose pages hanging off the edge of the desk. Lord Kriantz and Captain Ryka entered the room alongside my father. Lord Kriantz smiled slightly and acknowledged me with a nod. The captain said nothing.

  “Amaranthine, I just spent two sunlengths arbitrating a disagreement over the Trindori trade channel. I don’t have time for nonsense right now.” My father sighed, taking off his circlet and setting it down on a pile of papers.

  “This is important,” I said. “I have reason to believe the knife used in the assassination attempt on you is not Zumordan.” Given my suspicions about the captain, I probably shouldn’t have said anything in front of her, but at least Lord Kriantz was there as a witness. The more people who heard the truth about the weapon, the more likely the Directorate would be to listen. They had to.

  “That can’t be.” He waved me away from the desk and settled himself in his chair. “The captain has assured me that the blade is almost certainly of Zumordan origin.”

  “There is no one else who would attack us,” Captain Ryka said. “Zumorda is the only kingdom with something to gain. I spoke to one of Casmiel’s most trusted informants about it yesterday. She’s going to look into the matter with some of her contacts.”

  “Yes, but this blade is forged incorrectly.” I pulled the knife out of my boot. “Look at it. There isn’t any grain in this metal. Zumordan weaponry is forged from steel folded many more times than that of our blades. The result is a blade with a distinct grain in it. Morland, one of the only bladesmiths capable of this kind of custom work, has disappeared, and—”

  The captain stepped forward. “I don’t suppose you have an explanation for how the lock on the door of my ready room got melted, Your Highness,” she said, her voice icy.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. Captain Ryka didn’t scare me. In spite of her uniform and the years she had on me, as a member of the royal family by blood, I still outranked her.

  “Amaranthine, your help is not necessary. The Directorate has already proceeded with measures to determine if anyone else on the grounds might have been involved. A knife is not going to tell us the identity of the killer,” my father said. He didn’t seem to have listened to me at all.

  “Don’t you realize it changes everything if I’m right?” I said. “Don’t you think the origin of the attack is as important as the specific person who did it? Out in the city I—”

  “We’re at peace with our neighbors. The only unknown is Zumorda. No one else would threaten the peace between our kingdoms,” my father said. “We’ve already caught most of the Recusants. It’s only a matter of time before we follow the trail of poison to its source.” My father’s patience was wearing thin. So was mine.

  “And I’m quite certain that the blade is Zumordan,” the captain added. “There’s more than one way to forge a blade, even in Zumorda. Everything adds up.”

  “Repeating yourself doesn’t make you more correct!” I changed my hold on the knife and pointed it at the captain, my knuckles whitening with the force of my grip.

  “Give me that weapon.” My father stepped forward with an open hand. “Now.”

  “Why should I if you don’t think it’s important?” I retorted.

  “Amaranthine, I’m done with your games. Give me the knife,” he said.

  “This isn’t a game! You’re the one ignoring important evidence in favor of sitting on your ass, mumbling unsubstantiated expla-nations with the rest of those morons on the Directorate!”

  “Amaranthine!” My father’s voice boomed through the room like a thunderclap. He grabbed my wrist and the knife fell to the floor. “We have a plan, and we will adhere to it. You will not interfere with matters that concern the Directorate.”

  “You’re going to get us all killed.” I jerked my arm free.

  “Amaranthine, listen to me—”

  “No, you listen. I’m tired of not being taken seriously. None of you have ever given me a chance! How am I supposed to do anything useful around here when you won’t even let me?” My voice rose.

  “If you wanted to be useful, you’d get married and learn to run an estate like a proper royal daughter! I ought to ship you straight to the middle of the Sonnenborne desert and see how you like your freedom then!” he shouted.

  “Fine.” Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

  “Amaranthine is always welcome to visit Sonnenborne.” Lord Kriantz edged between my father and me. “Let’s discuss this later and let the princess get back to her duties. I’ll escort her out.”

  “Thank you, Endalan. We can finish our discussion about your bandit concerns over lunch. Captain, please send a page for Director Hilara—I need an update on the tax assessment project she took over from Casmiel,” my father said before directing his steely gaze to me. “We are done here, Amaranthine.” He pulled out one of his desk drawers and shoved the knife into it, sending a shower of papers off the desk to slide across the floor.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” I stormed out alongside Lord Kriantz and kicked the door shut behind me, uttering a lengthy stream of profanity that carried us all the way to the end of the hall. Lord Kriantz, prudently, said nothing.

  “How stupid do they have to be to not see the evidence right in front of them?” I finally managed a coherent sentence.

  “It does seem unwise,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I said. Some of the fight drained out of me at his words. It felt good to be listened to.

  “Perhaps we could share a meal sometime and discuss the matter at more length,” he suggested. “With all that is happening near my borders already, I don’t think any kind of potential conflict with Zumorda should be taken lightly.”

  “All right,” I agreed. At least one person was willing to listen, and both my brother and father seemed to favor him. Maybe he’d be able to talk some sense into the rest of the Directorate. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  Even in my black mood, I had to go on with Denna’s lesson as planned. I packed us a picnic lunch to take out on the trails, as I was in no hurry to return to the castle anytime soon. Denna came down dressed in a shade of green that matched her eyes and smiled when she saw me. All I managed in response was an expression that probably made me look like I’d taken a hoof to the teeth.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, regarding me with worry.

  “Other than wanting to slap half the Directorate with a hitching rail, I’m fine,” I said.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” I scowled at the door to the barn. “Where are those thrice-damned grooms?”

  They finally appeared, leading Flicker and a dark horse behind him.

  “Isn’t that the horse that bit me?” Denna asked, shrinking back a little.

  “Yes, that’s Shadow.” The time had finally come to put her on the horse s
he’d be riding for her wedding. She was more than ready.

  Shadow was dark where Flicker was light, and delicate rather than built for battle. Her sleek coat shone in the afternoon sun, her mane and tail jet black and her coat the rich brown of dark chocolate. Her head was fine boned, and she had a long forelock the grooms had swept to the side out of her expressive eyes.

  “Is she going to bite me again?” Denna sidled closer to me.

  “No. She probably thought you had a treat that first day,” I said. I pulled a worn black cachet from the tangle around my wrist and showed it to Denna. “Shadow was my first training project. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll take care of you.”

  “All right.” She put her hand on my arm, sending a jolt up to my shoulder. “I trust you.”

  I softened with her touch, hating myself for it. Denna had become a source of comfort—someone I relied on. That was never a good thing. Reliance on people created weaknesses for others to exploit.

  The grooms got Denna mounted up, and I climbed aboard Flicker. We probably shouldn’t have been riding out on our own, but if anyone inquired, it would be much easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Besides, the last people I wanted to talk to for any reason were my father or Captain Ryka.

  “You don’t have to ride Shadow any differently than you’d ride Louie,” I told her. “Keep the same position and use the same leg cues. The only difference you might notice is that Shadow is more sensitive. She’s going to respond more promptly.” Instructing Denna at least gave me something else to think about. Flicker had already picked up on my mood, tossing his head and sidestepping a little as we rode away from the barn.

  Denna nodded her understanding and tried it out without having to be told. Soon she had Shadow walking, trotting, cantering, and halting with the barest touch of her seat and hands.

  “This is different,” she said breathlessly. “It’s like going from a slow dance partner to one who is light and lithe. Or switching from a pavando to a galliand.”

  “I wouldn’t know a galliand if it bit my horse on the nose, but I’m sure that’s a good analogy,” I said.