by Jordan Rivet
He spotted Lady Tull by a carnival booth with one of her crusty old advisors. She was playing a ring toss game where she had to throw three circles of iron over a bottle to win a prize—in this case an Everlight small enough to fit in a pocket.
Siv had had plenty of practice tossing rings of metal of late. He strode over to the booth, his Guard strutting along beside him. They gathered a crowd in their wake. Lady Tull looked up, a calculating expression on her face, as Siv offered her a stately bow.
“May I join you, my lady?”
“Your Majesty.” Tull dropped a curtsy and looked up at him through thick eyelashes. She too wore scarlet today. Siv wondered if she had been intending to wear the Rollendar colors. To the people gathering to watch them, it must appear that the tragic and beautiful widow had dressed to match their young king. He could almost feel the romantic sighs of the young ladies in the crowd. They were going to love this.
Lady Tull tossed the last of her rings into the booth. It didn’t land anywhere near the bottles. She gave a delicate shrug.
“Would you like a turn, Sire?”
“I’d love one.”
Siv stepped up to the line beside her. The sullen young man running the game handed him the three rings and ducked his head in a semblance of a bow before slouching back to make sure the bottles were lined up evenly. The crowd of onlookers grew around them.
Siv eyed the target and wound up for the toss. His first ring landed directly over the bottle, clanging loudly against the table. The second one made the bottle totter a bit, but it stayed upright as the ring dropped over it. The spectators cheered. Siv acknowledged them with an easy grin then offered the final ring to his companion.
“Would you like another go, my lady? I’d be happy to teach you.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Lady Tull stepped closer to him, and Siv put his hand on hers to guide the toss. He looked over at Bolden as he put his arm around Lady Tull and was rewarded with a scowl.
The ring landed directly on the bottle with a clang like a bell. The crowd erupted in cheers.
Bolden said something—no doubt snide—to his father and stalked away through the courtyard. Siv grinned. That’s right, Bolden. Go carry out your schemes. I’m on to you. And she’s going to realize that Amintelle is still the strongest house on this mountain.
He caught Dara’s eye, intending to signal for her to follow Bolden and see what he was up to. He was surprised to see a scowl on her face. Siv realized he was still holding Lady Tull’s hand. Dara looked away, very determinedly scanning the crowd, her face now blank of any expression whatsoever.
He could not win.
“How about a drink for my New Castle Guard!” Siv called. And he swept up his retinue and dove back into the festival.
Siv made a show of greeting nobles and commoners alike as he paraded through the throng. He ordered a mug of mulled wine for every member of his Guard and handed them out himself. He’d create an image of easy camaraderie. He was a king who got along well with the people who protected him. He’d show everyone that his people were his friends, and that they were loyal. If the schemes against him were even a little bit fractured, he would pour water into the cracks and freeze them by wintertime.
As he handed out the steaming cups of mulled wine, he said a few words to each of the guardsmen, showing them he knew their names and remembered something about each of them. Except for Telvin Jale. He might have accidentally on purpose called him Kelvin Kale. The man nodded and accepted the wine, utterly unperturbed. Burning soldiers.
When he reached Dara, Siv caught her hand as he handed over her mug. Steam infused with spices rose between them.
“Can you see what Bolden is up to?” he whispered. “And now for Nightfall, the leader of my elite new dueling squad,” he called in a louder voice. “I’m a lucky king to have Nightfall by my side.”
The crowds cheered, and chants of “Nightfall, Nightfall” rose among them.
Then Oat shouted, “Long live King Siv!” and others took up the refrain. The words spread around the courtyard, vibrating through the air like a new kind of song. “Long live King Siv!”
Dara executed a perfect bow and stepped back to let him continue his rounds. As soon as the attention was off her, she disappeared into the multitude. Good. Dara was more than a match for Bolden.
The throng in the courtyard thickened, and the atmosphere grew increasingly festive. Siv swelled with pride to see people enjoying themselves. Bolden and his father could scheme and sneer, but Siv was going to show his people that he cared for them. The people made Vertigon prosperous, and he would show them he knew and appreciated that fact. He set himself a challenge to greet every attendee personally. It was the sort of thing his father would do, and Siv intended to do his memory proud.
16.
The Lantern Maker
ONE of the drawbacks of the sharp New Guard uniforms was that it was difficult for Dara to pass unseen through the crowd. She drew eyes and quite a few compliments as she strode by. She wasn’t the only Guard not standing in the king’s orbit, though. She had instructed the men to rotate between guarding the king and listening to what the crowd had to say about him.
The afternoon sun stretched shadows across the courtyard. Here and there flashes of light disrupted the shadows as artisans demonstrated simple Fireworks. A few bolder Workers even sold their wares in the courtyard itself. More had set up outside, along with opportunistic food vendors and entertainers who hadn’t fit inside the castle gates.
Dara steered clear of the Workers as she searched the crowd for the sandy-haired Lord Bolden. His father, at least, should have been easy to find. Lord Von usually commanded a ring of space around him as people tried to fawn over him without getting too close. Von Rollendar’s reputation for cruelty was well known in the citadel. But she didn’t spot any such bubbles in the crowd, except for the very visible one around the king himself.
Dara had reached the corner where the Fireblossom Worker was creating glowing plumes in the air for an awestruck crowd when she saw them. Her parents.
They stood side by side not far from the castle gates, looking as if they weren’t sure whether or not they actually wanted to join the carnival. This was not the sort of event they typically attended. Dara froze, unsure how to unravel her feelings.
Her parents were here. At the king’s festival.
Rafe wore his finest coat, the very same one he’d been wearing the morning of King Sevren’s murder. He stood tall and straight, looking a bit like a king himself. He had a strong jaw and golden hair, just like Dara’s. Other Workers began to notice him, and they approached him one by one to offer greetings.
Lima wore an austere black gown that Dara had never seen before. It was threaded with Firegold at the collar framing her proud face. Lips pursed, she surveyed the crowds as if they were children getting underfoot while she was trying to work.
Dara clutched the hilt of her Savven blade tight, her heartbeat quickening. She hadn’t seen her parents since she told them she was joining the Guard. She would never forget the scorn on her mother’s face, the resignation in her father’s eyes. She had been certain they would never want to see her again.
What were they doing at the castle? Had the king invited them for some reason, or did they decide to come on their own?
Out of the corner of her eye, Dara noticed the Fireblossom distorting in the air, bending slightly toward her.
Breathe. She needed to stay calm. If anything, her lessons with Zage had made her even more sensitive to the Fire, more able to pull it to her at will. But she needed to keep it away, to resist the urge to draw the molten Fire into her body and show her father that she could Work after all. Slowly, the Fireblossom returned to its intended shape. Dara avoided looking at the Worker controlling it, hoping the woman hadn’t noticed the shift.
Dara was still fighting a tide of overwhelming emotions when her father saw her. He simply looked at her, no expression altering his proud features. Her
mother soon noticed as well and turned to face her daughter.
Dara stood utterly still. Breathed. They were her parents. She thought they loved her in their own way. They must have good reasons for what they had done, but they were playing a dangerous game. Their decisions had been distorted by their grief over what happened to Renna, something that had forever altered Dara’s life too. She had to stay calm and try to understand them if there was any way to salvage this.
She released her grip on her blade and strode up to them.
“Hello Father. Mother. What brings you to the castle?”
“Your employer invited us,” Lima said. “You didn’t know we’d be here?”
“I am not in the king’s confidence,” Dara said.
Her parents exchanged glances.
“Are you certain?” Lima asked. “The rumors on Village say the king trusts you.”
“Rumors can be exaggerated,” Dara said.
Her parents looked at each other again, silent communication passing between them. Dara wondered if they had hoped Dara would give them information on the king’s movements. Zage had suspected she’d been placed to do just that until he learned the truth.
“How is the shop?” Dara asked. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit you.” And she truly was. She had always felt most at home in a dueling hall, but she still missed the warmth of their kitchen, the coziness of her room, the view of the peaks from their front porch.
“The last of the winter orders have shipped,” her father said. “I’m working on improvements to my designs for next season.”
“Each lantern is more beautiful than the last,” Lima said.
It didn’t surprise Dara to hear her father was constantly making improvements. He worked as hard on his Fireworks as she always had at her dueling. He always wanted to be better. He always wanted more.
“And the Fire Guild?” Dara asked. She fought down the image of Farr’s lifeless body falling to the ground outside the Guild headquarters.
“Things were a bit difficult after Farr’s tragic accident,” Lima said. “But we’re back to business as usual.”
“That’s good,” Dara said. Breathe. They don’t know it was you. “I was sorry to hear about that. I know you were close.”
“Thank you,” Lima said. She met her daughter’s eyes, and they both shifted awkwardly, unsure what to say next. Dara couldn’t help hearing the hurtful things her mother had shouted at her when she moved out, the words replaying in her mind like a beating drum.
“When will you be finished with this business, my young spark?” Rafe said.
He took a step closer to her, and suddenly Dara could sense Fire in him. He was holding power. A lot of it. He wasn’t Working it as far as she could tell, but he did not walk around with Fire flooding his veins for no reason. Her heart nearly stopped beating altogether.
“This is my work now,” Dara gasped. “I’m serving Vertigon. I know it’s not what you want me to do, but this is the path I’ve chosen.”
Rafe sighed, exhaling the heat of the power in his body with his breath. What was he going to do with all that Fire?
“Very well,” he said.
“You should come home for dinner sometime,” Lima said suddenly. “We miss you.” Then she leaned forward and hugged her.
Dara was so surprised that she didn’t hug back at first. Her mother had never been particularly affectionate, even before Renna died. But there was warmth in her touch. Not Fire, but real motherly warmth. Dara was utterly paralyzed for a moment. Then Lima stepped back, clearing her throat.
“Okay, I’ll do that,” Dara said. “It was good to see you. I’d better get back to work.”
She backed away from them and ducked into the crowd before her father could hug her too. There was no way he wouldn’t sense her ability with that much Fire running through him.
As soon as she was out of sight of her parents, Dara ran.
She didn’t know what her father was planning to do with the Fire coursing through him, but she wouldn’t be able to stop him, and neither would the Guard. She needed Zage.
The courtyard was so crowded now that it was difficult to maneuver. Dara spotted Princess Sora talking earnestly to a group of older noblewomen near the castle steps. Siv and his posse of Guards were all the way on the other side of the carnival from her parents. Dara started toward Sora to ask if she’d seen Zage when a familiar figure stepped into her path.
“Dara! Fancy meeting you here.”
“Kel!” Dara threw her arms around her friend for a quick hug.
“Hey now.” Kel pulled back and put his hands on Dara’s shoulders. He must have seen the worry in her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“No. Have you seen the Fire Warden?”
“Not lately. I’m busy looking for my patron.” Kel lowered his voice. “Bolden slipped away a little while ago. One of our mutual drinking companions said he thought he saw the young lord entering the castle.”
“No one is supposed to be inside. Can you go after him?”
“He can’t suspect I’m—”
“You’ll think of something.” Dara would worry about Kel later. She needed to find Zage.
Without waiting for an answer, Dara hurried up to the castle steps. She stood in front of the ornate doors and scanned the crowd for any sign of Zage’s black cloak.
Princess Selivia stood beside her mother, Queen Tirra, who looked like a ghost in her black dress. Well-wishers came up one by one to offer their condolences for the loss of the king. Siv and his Guards continued to strut through the throng, nearing the center of the courtyard again. Sora was still busy with her noblewomen. Vine Silltine chatted with her own ring of admirers. No Zage.
Dara tapped her foot on the stone step. Who else could she trust who was a Fireworker? Most of the ones she knew well, like Corren the Firespinner, were firmly in her parents’ camp. There were a few minor Fireworkers on the castle staff, but none would be a match for Rafe Ruminor.
She scanned the courtyard again and felt a painful jolt in her chest. Her parents were striding directly toward Siv. Her father wore the same determination on his face that she had seen when he was in the midst of the most delicate and important parts of his Work. He was about to act. She had to do something.
“Attention everyone!” Dara shouted. She swept her blade out of its sheath and waved it frantically over the crowd. Heads started to turn toward her. Siv looked up. “It is time!” she called. “Gather around, for our king’s new Castle Guards are going to demonstrate their dueling prowess for your entertainment. Come nearer and watch the show!”
The guardsmen looked confused, but to their credit they recovered quickly and headed toward Dara, the king safe in their midst. Dara ordered a nearby pair of serving men to run to the dueling hall and fetch blunted blades and masks so the New Guard could safely exhibit their talents.
Siv and the Guards got closer to the castle steps and farther away from Rafe Ruminor. Dara didn’t dare look at her father as his target moved out of his reach. Finally, as more and more faces turned toward her, she spotted Zage Lorrid. He lurked beneath one of the fiery-leafed trees like a great bat. Dara locked eyes with him, willing him to understand that something was wrong.
Telvin was the first to reach the steps. “You’re up first against Bilzar,” she said. “Put on a good show.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Telvin said, looking a bit bewildered. Dara had begun to think he wasn’t the sharpest blade in the rack.
As the Guards cleared the steps for the impromptu exhibition duel, Dara made a beeline for Zage. Most people were too busy watching the duelists to notice when Dara brushed past.
“He’s here,” she said to Zage when she reached him. “With Fire.” She grabbed his arm, jolting as she realized Zage held quite a bit of Fire himself. She let go before any of it could flow into her.
“I will stop him,” Zage said.
“Please don’t kill—”
“I will protect my king,” Zage said.<
br />
“Please,” Dara said desperately. “If you cause a scene, it’ll alert the other conspirators, and we’ll never catch them. Neutralize him, but don’t hurt him.”
Zage’s mouth tightened. “Very well.” Then he melted into the crowd.
Dara hurried back toward the castle steps, hoping her parents hadn’t seen her talking to their enemy. On her way, she nearly knocked over Princess Selivia.
“Great idea, Dara,” the princess squealed, clutching Dara’s hand. “I can’t wait to see the Guard duel for real.”
“Me too.” Dara couldn’t see her parents or the Fire Warden anymore. “I need you to stay close to the steps, Princess.”
“Of course. I want the best view possible.”
“Good.”
Dara continued forward with the princess at her side. Siv stood in middle of the steps, positioned between Bilzar and Telvin. He was exposed, there before the great castle doors. She hadn’t meant for him to get up in front of the crowd too.
He raised his hands like a referee and called, “On your guard! Ready?”
An explosive boom split the air.
17.
Aftermath
DARA dove to the ground, pulling Selivia with her. Screams filled the courtyard. She sensed a massive rush of Fire unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was as if every drop of power in the courtyard had suddenly been sucked away, from the Fireblossoms floating above the artist, to the single beads of Fire in the Everlight carnival prizes, plunging them into shadow.
Then the Fire burst from the tops of the walls surrounding the courtyard in a solid fountain of power. Every shadow vanished in an instant. The screams turned from fear to surprise to wonder. Molten Fire shot into the sky all around the carnival, setting the castle alight. Droplets of Fire fell like rain, landing near the walls and melting harmlessly back into the stones.
