“We don’t need to take the whole kingdom. It would be foolish to try, at least during the initial assault. We need to send them a message that neither Mynaria nor Sonnenborne is to be trifled with,” Thandi explained.
“With winter coming, the northern Zumordans will soon be confined to their cities. The snows make the northern roads nearly impassable for several moons,” Lord Kriantz added. “I’m sure Princess Dennaleia can attest to that, as her cresthaven suffers from similar seasonal limitations.”
I nodded a reluctant affirmative.
“This is all according to the plans we’d been working on before my father passed,” Thandi said. “It will also bar the Trindori from making any more agreements with the Zumordans under the table. They’d have to cross through Lord Kriantz’s holdings to reach their contacts in Kartasha.”
“I still call for solid evidence that Zumorda is behind the attacks,” Hilara said.
“What more evidence do we need?” Thandi said. “The attack that killed my father was blatantly magical. We’ve captured nearly all the Recusant leaders, and we’ve been feeding the prisoners peaceroot to quell their gifts. Who could have done it besides the Zumordans?”
Zumorda was not the only place a magic user could come from. My Affinity was the proof, even if I wasn’t to blame.
I said nothing.
The captain sat back, twirling one of her voting nails between her fingers. She wore thick cachets woven from many colors, like Mare. My heart throbbed at the thought of Mare’s delicate wrists, the freckles on her arms—
“You have your votes if you choose to disagree,” another director reminded Captain Ryka and Director Hilara with an oily smile.
“I’ll send my horses back before the culling and follow after the harvest ball,” Lord Kriantz said. “Pegala and the other desert-breds are too distinctive to form a caravan, and I wouldn’t want to risk Princess Amaranthine that way. She and I can travel separately from them for safety in case of Zumordan spies.”
He spoke as though their marriage were already sealed. With the king’s assassination fresh in my mind, all I could picture was Mare, lying on the side of the road with a white arrow embedded in her chest. There wasn’t a single thing I liked about Lord Kriantz’s plan.
“And the initial attack?” Captain Ryka asked.
“I already sent a messenger—my people await my command. They won’t act without me present,” Lord Kriantz said. “As soon as I arrive, I’ll rally them for the attack and send a message by courier to you for supporting cavalry. The timeline should be no more than a moon, as winter falls in the north.”
The plan was well designed. Northern winters were incapacitating. It would be spring before the queen would be able to send more forces to handle whatever bloodbath we unleashed on their borders.
“Excellent plan,” Thandi said. “We can rally here in the meantime and begin training our forces. Captain, we can go over those plans before praise day.”
Captain Ryka nodded, still wary. “What of the investigation, Your Majesty? Shouldn’t we see it through to its conclusion and make sure to deal with any spies here in Lyrra?”
“There’s no time for that now,” Thandi said. “My father is already gone. We must ride against Zumorda while we still have the element of surprise. We can ferret out the betrayers once the forces depart.”
“I would prefer not to send my cavalry against an enemy who may not be at fault,” Captain Ryka said. “We never found Morland after he left the market, which leads me to believe he knew something about the dagger from the first assassination attempt. He’s an expert forger, and it’s possible the weapon is a fake. I still have two members of the Elite searching for him.”
The captain cared about the men and women who rode for her, and apparently she had actually listened when Mare told her about Morland’s disappearance and possible involvement. If only Mare or I had known sooner, we could have had an ally on the Directorate. Perhaps two, with Hilara also opposed to riding against Zumorda.
“Those in favor?” Thandi asked.
The metallic clink of horseshoe nails sounded as the Directorate tossed favorable votes to the center of the table. Only Captain Ryka and Director Hilara held back. I wanted to grab the nails and fling them back into the directors’ faces. Instead, I sat perfectly still, cultivating an expression as blank as the polished tiles beneath our feet.
“Assigned,” Thandi said, nodding to the scribe, who dutifully recorded the vote.
“Now, on to the wedding,” Thandi said. “In light of the war, I would like to propose that we move up the ceremony. It makes sense for us to ride out as king and queen as we begin to gather the troops. All the resources for the feast and ceremony are already in place.”
My facade crumbled and panic closed my throat. I’d counted on having until the harvest festival to find a way to Mare and to get her help solving our quandary.
“When do you propose to hold the ceremony, Your Majesty?” someone asked.
“The feast can be held on praise day following the culling, and the wedding the morning after,” Thandi said. “Since all the wedding attendees will already be in town for the culling by then, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
My heart throbbed in my chest and magic raced through my veins. That meant the wedding would be in less than half a moon. It was all happening too fast. There wouldn’t be any time to talk to Mare, to try to figure out some way to salvage any part of what we felt for each other.
“All in favor?”
The table rang with cast nails for a unanimous vote. As an outsider, I did not even get any say in the date of my own marriage.
“Assigned,” Thandi said to the scribe. “And that concludes our business for the day.”
Chairs scraped across the tile as the directors rose to exit the room.
I stood and braced myself momentarily on the back of the chair, reaching deep for the strength to go on, reeling from the sudden change in plan. My magic threatened to spill out and immolate everything. After all the years of preparation, I had never felt less ready to be married or more afraid of what I might be capable of doing with my Affinity. I needed answers.
There was only one person I could think of who might have them.
As soon as I was shunted to my chambers and certain of my solitude, I opened the shutters and let the wind cut through me like a sword. Shivering even in my heavy dress, I was glad to feel something besides panic over losing Mare. Auna had not yet lit the fire in my receiving room, but it came to life and crackled behind me as my power, barely contained, found an easy outlet in the fresh kindling.
Spurred by the erratic bursts of flame in the hearth, I pawed through my wardrobe until I found what I sought in the pocket of one of my cloaks—the blue feather Karov had given me at the Blitz.
“Karov,” I whispered, dropping the bright blue feather before I could question the wisdom of it.
The wind swept the feather to the floor and it crackled with sparks upon impact, turning to ash whisked away by the breeze. I collapsed onto a chaise, not sure what to do. The inevitability of war loomed, making every shadow in my rooms seem sinister. To steady myself, I whispered prayers to each of the Six in turn, hoping that one of them might take pity. But before I made it to the final prayer, a bird swooped through the window, startling me to my feet. It perched on the arm of the chair at my vanity, its wings the same brilliant blue as Karov’s feather.
Then the bird shimmered before my eyes, metamorphosing into a grotesque and ever-expanding shape until Karov himself stood before me.
I stared, my mouth agape.
“How interesting to see you again, Your Highness,” he said, his expression smug.
“It was you in the library,” I said, remembering the strange circumstances under which I’d found the green book.
Karov favored me with a silver-tipped grin. He settled himself in a chair without being offered one, and with a gesture of his hand the shutters swung closed. The fire still flickered
and swelled with my uncertainty, but Karov did not seem bothered.
“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” he asked.
“Help me,” I begged him in a trembling voice. “Tell me what’s wrong with me and why I can’t control it.”
“It is simple,” he said. “You have a gift. Each time you use your gift, it drains you, because you have no training. You won’t be able to control who you harm, and there is a good chance you’ll do damage to your closest friends and family simply because they are the ones who are around you most.”
My stomach sank.
“Unless, of course, you get some proper training. That would allow you to use your gift without hurting yourself or putting others at risk.” He sat back and waited for me to respond.
“So you can train me,” I said. “Teach me how not to hurt people. How to hide this.”
“If only I could, Your Highness.” A flicker of regret crossed his features. “Perhaps I could show you some basics, but your gift is not so simple. Me, I am a creature of wind. And Zumordan, as you may have surmised. You glow too brightly in my Sight for fire to be your only gift. I imagine you’ve experienced other manifestations of your Affinity that aren’t limited to flame?”
I recalled Ellaeni’s dress, the castle wall, the gust in the library, and the slammed door. Somehow, without having seen those things happen, he knew.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“With practice, most magic users with gifts of moderate strength can develop their Sight. I can see the magic in everything. Even you.”
“But I’m not Zumordan,” I said. “I shouldn’t have an Affinity.” There had to be some mistake, some explanation.
“Mages were not always mostly Zumordan,” he said. “As we grew fewer in number, suspicion of magic increased until the religious uprising. No one knows why we started to die off and fewer were born to replace us. Many with Affinities fled to Zumorda for sanctuary. Meanwhile, the people of the other Northern Kingdoms decided that magic was not for mortals, assigning each Affinity to one of the gods of whom your people are so fond,” he said. “It’s all part of the same system, distorted over time.”
It made sense. The godlike symbols on the green library book. How much calmer my gift was when used in the Sanctuary. There had always been a connection between the Six and the Affinities.
“So the High Adytum—that’s why it’s so important to magic users? That’s why they’ve been trying to stop the alliance?” I asked.
“The High Adytum was built by magic users and the worshippers of the Six together, back when the religious and magical beliefs in Havemont and Zumorda were less divergent,” Karov said. “It is the best place to work magic in all of the Northern Kingdoms. Legendary enchantments have been made there. You may find your power easier to manage in other temples and sanctuaries, too. To this day, they’re still built with specifications that help control and amplify Affinities.”
I nodded in numb agreement. What he said lined up with my experience.
Karov sat back and studied me intently.
“You are a rare creature indeed, Princess. And a dangerous one,” he finally said. “The only advice I can give you is to trust your intuition, but be careful how far you reach with your gift. I’m sure the book you found in the library showed you how dangerous it can be when one calls on more than one power at once. And it does not help that the crown has rounded up the Recusants.”
“What do they have to do with anything?”
“They called themselves the Syncretic Circle before being relabeled by the fundamentalists. Most of them have only the smallest of gifts, but they help keep balance in the kingdom. With so few magic users here, the ambient magic that exists in the kingdom is never being used. The small enchantments the Recusants perform help drain some of that away and prevent anything catastrophic from happening. Now that they are locked up, those of us with stronger gifts run the risk of catastrophic consequences for using ours. It takes a great deal of training and control to avoid setting off disastrous reactions.”
No wonder I felt like I was about to explode out of my skin. No wonder it seemed to worsen every day.
“But where did my Affinity come from?”
“That I cannot answer,” he said. “But Affinities are usually gifts of blood, not chance.”
No blood of mine could explain my Affinity. A shudder ran through me as I questioned my entire life. While it was true I didn’t strongly resemble my father, I looked very much like my mother. We were of the same mold, with dark hair, fair skin, and pale eyes, though hers were blue, not green. My parents loved each other far too much for me to be of some other man’s blood.
“Why did you give me the feather?” I demanded.
“Zumorda will always shelter those with Affinities,” he said. “The queen has assigned a few of us to see that those with the need will find their way to Zumorda, where they can learn to harness their abilities. And perhaps those we assist might advocate for our interests from time to time when the need arises.”
His explanation seemed too simple, and the Zumorda he described was hardly the enemy it had been painted to be. But perhaps this had been his long game—to find more ways for Zumorda to deepen its grip on Mynaria through me.
“I am not joining any causes or making promises,” I said. “I cannot speak for Mynaria or Havemont. I could be reduced to nothing before all this is through. They’ve begun using a Recusant—I mean Syncretic Circle—artifact to test everyone. If anyone here finds out about my Affinity—”
“And that’s why you’re a particular challenge,” Karov said. “We can’t offer you anything, because your disappearance or even a clear alignment with Zumorda could spark a war, particularly in light of the current political situation. But Zumorda is a place where little matters but power. So perhaps one day you will find your way out of this tangle and come to us on your own terms. When you do, we’ll be there to receive you.”
“I don’t want training. I want to know how to make it disappear,” I said. “What about peaceroot, the herb they’re giving the prisoners?”
Karov chuckled. “I doubt you want to contend with the side effects. The headaches are monstrous, and it can cause necrosis in your fingers and toes, turning the flesh purple. Immunity builds up in time, and the more you take, the farther the damage spreads.”
I tightened my hands into fists. It wasn’t a viable option.
“Your Highness, I suggest you accept the inevitable,” he said. “An Affinity, much like a heart, cannot be changed.”
With those words he folded in on himself until he was once more a mountain bluebird—apparently one of his gifts as an air mage. A gust of magic opened the shutters for him to wing out into the blustery day.
“Wait!” I cried, chasing him to the window, but it was too late. He fluttered into the overcast sky and was gone.
In spite of what I had learned, I felt no better than before he had arrived. I hated him for his words but could not deny the truth in them. Without control of my gift, I would destroy everything around me. Even the kingdom I was supposed to rule. Even the girl I loved.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Mare
A FEW DAYS BEFORE THE CULLING, THE WIND DIED down, leaving the castle grounds bright with autumn sunshine. Gardeners raked up the red and golden leaves that the wind had torn from the trees, and in the distance horses kicked up their heels in their paddocks. I sat in my window, one leg in and one leg out, like I had when Denna had stopped me from leaving her rooms. Twisting the knife of memory filled up the emptiness. Feeling pain was better than feeling nothing.
My barely touched breakfast of shortbread and sliced apples with sharp cheese made excellent ammunition to lob at the liegemen below, which gave me some modicum of satisfaction. They couldn’t keep too keen an eye on me without taking food to the face. Birds clustered at their feet, reminding me of Thandi’s courtiers as they lunged and pecked at one another to get to the crumbs.
“My lady?�
� Sara approached me. “Someone has been sent to escort you to the stables.”
I dropped the last slice of apple back on my plate in surprise. Until now, I’d heard nothing about any plans to let me out of my rooms for so much as a sunlength. The messages I’d sent to Thandi had gone unanswered, and I didn’t dare reach out to Denna. Those days were over, and her own silence made her decision perfectly clear.
“He’s in the receiving room, my lady,” Sara said.
I brushed the crumbs from my breeches, swung my leg back through the window, and went out to greet the man waiting for me.
He wore a snug leather jerkin depicting the silhouette of a hawk in flight, its hooked profile sharp across his belly and its right wing angling up over his shoulder. One of Lord Kriantz’s men. He bowed upon my approach.
“With the king’s permission, Lord Kriantz has asked that I take you to the stables, Your Highness,” the man said. His accent was thicker than his master’s, the vowels made soft and round by his pronunciation.
Dread hung in the pit of my stomach. There was no chance of my turning down a sunlength of freedom, and Lord Kriantz probably knew that as surely as I knew why he wanted to see me.
“Of course,” I said, and gestured for Sara to hand me a cloak.
Lord Kriantz’s man escorted me out of my rooms, moving like a cat ready to pounce if I tried to make a run for it. I wasn’t that stupid. There was nowhere to hide and no point in dragging my feet when, if nothing else, I couldn’t wait to stand under the open sky.
Traffic increased as we left the royal wing. When we descended the final staircase into the outer hall, I stopped short. Measured footfalls kept steady rhythm as an entourage made its way toward the heart of the castle. Four liegemen escorted two noblewomen and their maids, the nobles wearing a riot of color that lit up in shades of blue and green as they passed through the squares of sunlight cast in through the open windows.
One of the women was Denna.
Of Fire and Stars Page 26
