by Lindsey Duga
Ulfia was with other patients, and only Master Gelloren sat with me now. No one else needed to be here. Unlike a partnership bonding ritual, a severing ritual was not something anyone wanted to witness.
Gelloren stared at Kellian’s face. The Master Mage looked two hundred years old in that moment, ancient and tired. He murmured a prayer to Myriana and Saevalla then looked to me. “Are you ready, my dear?”
I squeezed Kellian’s icy hand and brought it to my lips, whispering, “I’m sorry, my friend.”
I nodded numbly, and Master Gelloren started the spell. I couldn’t hear the words—it was like he was speaking from a great distance. But it didn’t matter what he was saying. All that mattered was that I’d failed Kellian.
Purple flames ignited around our hands. They burned just enough to make me suffer for leaving him.
Now it was my turn. To sever the bond of partnership, I had to let go of his hand. It sounded easy, but the truth was the pain was insurmountable. Beads of sweat gathered at my temples as I gritted my teeth and groaned, releasing his hand. As our hands separated, the marks on the backs of them burned away in the fire.
The back of my hand was now blank. I was partnerless once more.
The flames fizzled out, and I gasped, cradling my burning hand to my chest and rolling over onto the floor. For a few dizzying moments, I hoped that was the worst of it, but it never was. I grabbed the bucket next to me and emptied my stomach. I retched and coughed and ached all over.
Gelloren handed me a damp cloth and helped me to a bed next to Kellian’s. I buried my face deep in the pillows, the cloth cool against the back of my neck, and let my body scream in pain.
The priests and mages had theories about why the severing ritual was so painful. Some said the link forged by magic was like a physical limb that was being severed. Others said that it was just the release of magic that caused our bodies to weaken to the point of exhaustion. I had my own theory. I believed it was a punishment. It was like Myriana was punishing us for being the survivor, or not being strong enough to protect each other, or for simply…giving up.
Master Gelloren gently laid his palm on my back. “It is as the Holy Queen would have it, Princess Ivy. She can see you are meant to move forward.”
He was trying to console me, but I didn’t like the idea that Queen Myriana would let Kellian die simply because I was meant to move on. The very idea of it made me want to cry and scream and stab things.
I rolled over, away from Kellian, and stared at my blank hand. Already the pain was receding, and soon I’d have another’s mark. One I hoped to keep for much longer, if not forever.
What would Zach’s mark look like?
The Saevallan Royals had traveled all night to arrive in the morning, so they had eaten breakfast, then slept half the day, and now were back at the dining hall for supper.
While they’d slept, the castle had exploded with gossip. And all of it had to do with Prince Zachariah. Or Zach, as everyone had started calling him. Most princesses seemed smitten by him—apparently his rugged appearance and mischievous smile made him daring and…enigmatic.
It almost made me wonder if there were two Zachs. How could one person be so many different things?
After sleeping the rest of the afternoon away in the infirmary, I had managed to shake off Ulfia, who’d wanted to check me from head to toe, and headed down to supper. I sat with Tulia and Minnow, our gazes occasionally flitting to the table where Zachariah, Prince Weldan, and a few other Saevallans sat.
“So what do you think, Ivy?” Tulia asked. “Is he partner material?”
“I think he’s gorgeous.” Robin slipped onto the bench next to me, her eyes glued to Zach.
“Is your name Ivy?” I elbowed my sister, then shrugged and said, “I’ve barely talked to him, but he seems…” Our brief interaction, the way he’d smirked at me from across a plate of strawberries, came to mind. “Tricky.”
Robin, Tulia, and Minnow stared at me.
“Tricky?” Tulia raised an eyebrow.
“Just…more than what he seems. I can’t get a read on him.” There was his Romantica lineage, but I wasn’t sure if that was something I was allowed to tell others yet. And I wouldn’t add to the gossip pool.
“I agree. He’s mysterious and rather intimidating, isn’t he?” Minnow said.
“I don’t know about intimidating,” I muttered, thinking of the suit of armor incident.
“Well, I mean, he hasn’t had a princess and is still so powerful? So legendary. If that’s not intimidating, what is?”
“Exactly!” Robin leaned forward. “There’s even a story going around about a time he took down a chimera—no battle magic at all!”
Recalling Zach’s words about rumors, I frowned. “Robin, I keep telling you—”
I was interrupted by the banging of a heavy wooden door. Amias burst through the doors, a sword at his side, looking broad-shouldered and as imposing as ever. The black hair that fell into his eyes made his appearance even more striking. “Out of the way!” he roared to a few younger Royals. Amias stormed to the table next to us, where Zachariah sat calmly eating his dinner.
“Oy!” he shouted, planting his boot on the table and sneering. “You’re the legendary swordsman, are you?” The other Saevallans moved away from the table, rolling their eyes, as if this kind of thing happened all the time with Zach.
Zach didn’t look up.
“Oy. Oy! Up, you bastard.”
“Prince Amias!” I shouted, standing. “You will treat our guests with respect!”
“Respect? Ha! Don’t make me laugh, Ivy. Respect for this heretic? For this son of a Romantica hag?”
There was a collective intake of breath throughout the dining hall, and a stunned silence followed. Like I suspected, him being a Romantica had not been one of those rumors flying about. More than likely, the Saevallans hadn’t been keeping Zach’s mother a secret on purpose, but it probably wasn’t something they advocated, either. So, assuming that no Saevallan Royal had told Amias, then who had?
As all eyes locked on him, Zach simply kept chewing his tarrow-spiced duck.
“That’s right.” Amias raised his voice even louder. “The one the Council has chosen to partner with Princess Ivy Myriana, a direct heir of Queen Myriana, is a Romantica.”
At this, there were more gasps.
My jaw clenched tight, fingers curling into my palm. How dare Amias use me as an excuse for his outrage, when it was clearly petty jealousy. This was not the first time Amias had tried to interfere with my partnerships. He’d gone to his uncle, King Krowe, and told an elaborate story about how Kellian had consumed too much dwarven liquor, when Kellian had food poisoning instead—the reason behind his poor stomach a “mystery.”
It was why the Legion taught that logic and reason, not emotions, should govern our actions. We should lead by example. Always.
And yet, I couldn’t help being curious to see how this played out. What would Zach do when his bloodline was attacked? Was he ashamed to be born of a heretic? I wondered if that was why he was so skilled—that he trained so hard to overcome his parentage and the prejudice that came with it.
Zach took a sip from his goblet, then looked up and smiled at Amias. “I don’t mean to offend, but is there something you need from me? You’re ruining my meal.”
Amias leaned forward. “Why? Don’t want everyone to know about your heretic mother?”
“Ah, no, it’s not that.” Zach reached for a piece of bread. “It’s just your foul breath. It’s making it hard to hold down the delicious food.”
Silence.
Then Amias roared, grabbing the table and upending it.
Zach was fast. He lifted his plate and his goblet and slid back as the table and all the other dishes crashed to the ground.
I covered my mouth. This was beyond jealousy. I’d never seen Amias act like this.
He turned on Zach. “Romantica scum! You don’t deserve her!”
Zach tilted h
is head. “Don’t deserve who?”
Irritation, and maybe a little disappointment, prickled under my skin. Did he not remember meeting me at all?
Then Zach’s face lit up. “Oh! The princess with the freckles who likes strawberries! You mean her, right?”
My cheeks warmed. That’s what he remembered? Seas of Glyll, did he have to remember my freckles?
Amias let loose another roar, but this time I rushed to stop him. “Back away, Amias!” I commanded, planting myself between them. Zach was going to keep on baiting him until one of them put a table through a window. I could almost hear the glass shattering and the wood crashing to the ground below.
“He insulted you, Ivy!” Amias reached for his sword.
“I didn’t hear any insult. And you insult us all if you draw your blade in front of our guests. Now back down.”
Amias did not advance, but neither did he step back.
“So the problem is…” Behind me, Zach placed his dishes on the table closest to him and stood. “I’m not worthy of her. Is that correct?” he said, jabbing his thumb at me.
Amias narrowed his gray eyes.
Zach looked me up and down, and I felt myself blush again. “That could very well be true.”
Amias’s hand on his sword slackened, just slightly.
“But,” the Swordsman Prince went on with a smirk, “I think the important thing here is I’m more worthy than you.”
Not even my words could stop Amias now. He lunged for Zach, forgetting about the sword—forgetting about everything, apparently.
“Amias!” A voice boomed throughout the dining hall, echoing off the walls. It was a voice that made Amias stop, and very few could. Amias whirled to face King Krowe, who now stood on the steps of the hall, looking grand with his gold crown and sapphire cloak.
“Calm yourself, nephew,” he commanded.
Amias straightened, his fists curled at his sides. “Uncle, this heretic can’t be Princess Ivy’s partner. He shouldn’t even be eating at our tables.”
“That is not for you to decide,” King Krowe said. “It is the Council’s decision. As it is for all partnerships, we must take everything into consideration.” Krowe glared at his nephew in a way that made me conclude Amias must have gone to the Council to ask for my partnership again. Despite him already having Matilda, a half princess, for a partner, and that the Council had already refused to bind us twice before.
“For the good of the kingdom,” Krowe continued, “the prince with the most skill should be paired with Queen Myriana’s direct descendant. And seeing as he’s the best swordsman here—”
“I am the best swordsman here!” Amias yelled.
“Perhaps you were,” Zach said calmly.
Rage built in Amias’s face like never before. I thought he might actually explode. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it straight at Zach’s chest. “I could kill you.”
“You could try.” Zach’s eyes narrowed, turning cold and sharp, at last looking like the cutthroat warrior he was rumored to be.
This new persona gave me chills—of either fear or excitement. It was impossible to tell which.
“Let me try, then.” Amias pressed the tip of his blade to Zach’s chest. “Let us see who’s better. Who the worthy one really is.”
Zach stared at the blade’s point for a moment before he brought two fingers to the side of the sword and moved it away from his chest, as if it were no more lethal than a blade of grass. “Fine, I accept your challenge.”
King Krowe clapped. “Grand! A duel, then. Tomorrow at dawn!”
At that moment it was obvious he had been the puppet master pulling Amias’s strings. He was the one who let Zach’s parentage slip out. So this had been his brilliant idea.
Amias slowly lowered his sword, still fuming, and Zach merely turned around, sat at the table where his food was, and continued eating.
I stood there, wringing my napkin in my hands, annoyed but not surprised. A duel was the perfect way to test Zach’s strength without offending the Saevallans as our guests. Logically, I knew it was a good plan, but it didn’t feel like an evaluation or a test. It felt like a competition for me. And I didn’t like being viewed as a prize to be won.
But if this was what I had to endure to get the legendary swordsman as a partner, to go after the Sable Dragon egg, and to one day find and defeat the Evil Queen, then I would sit and be considered a prize. And as for the victor, I would reward him with my Kiss.
Chapter
Seven
A Fiery Duel
Everyone greeted dawn in the arena of the training grounds the next day. I doubted a single person within the castle was not either sitting on the slopes of the hill up to the castle or under the red leaves of the jerr trees.
The murmur of the crowd was low, as if they were speaking in hushed voices for fear of waking the still-sleeping sun, their tongues placing bets. Who would win? A proper prince who was big and strong and naturally good with a blade? Or the legendary swordsman with a heretic’s blood? Fires glowed around the edges to light the grounds. It was so early that even the Myrial bells had not yet chimed.
The Council and the Mages sat on chairs within the carved-out indention of the hill. As I passed them to stand next to Tulia and Minnow, I heard a few of them quietly congratulating King Krowe on his brilliant manipulation of his nephew.
“Best use my nephew’s outrage to our advantage,” he muttered to Queen Jocelyn.
Despite my aggravation at being a prize, I couldn’t have agreed more. I was eager to see Zach’s skills in action. To see for myself if he was worthy of Myriana’s Mark.
With the morning air so chilly, I was wrapped in my gray cloak, wearing a handsome navy blue dress underneath. My hair was done in a bun, as usual, except for a few wisps of curl that always escaped if there was a breeze.
“I see Amias is as ready as ever,” whispered Minnow, leaning closer to me. She also wore her gray cloak, and her blond hair was fastened in braids.
Amias stood at the base of the hill, strapping on his armor and testing out his sword arm.
“Question is,” Tulia said on Minnow’s other side, “where is his opponent?”
It was nearly dawn, and Zach was nowhere to be seen. A few minutes ago, Master Gelloren had sent a page to fetch him from his room.
“Is Zach usually late?” I asked Prince Weldan, who stood next to me in his scarlet cloak.
Weldan shrugged. “He’s usually the first to arrive for training and missions. But even though he’s been in plenty of fights, he’s never been challenged like this before. He’s probably not taking it too seriously.”
“Too seriously?” Tulia leaned in. “Amias is the best swordsman we have. Zach better take it seriously or he’ll end up with his head on the grass and no body attached.”
Weldan’s lips twitched upward. “We’ll see.”
Tulia made a mocking sound just as all heads turned toward the castle steps, where a young page was descending with a yawning Zachariah trailing behind. Zach wore only a tunic and pants, no armor except wrist guards, and his sword at his side. When he reached the middle of the grounds, he called up, “My apologies! I hadn’t realized that dawn meant dawn.”
Master Gelloren smiled. “Good to have you join us, Zach. Would you like a moment to warm up?”
Zach began stretching, first his neck, then his arms and legs. “Not necessary,” he said.
He probably had just rolled out of bed. All he did was a few stretches and he was ready for a duel?
Master Gelloren nodded to me, and I made my way down the hill, my cloak and the hem of my dress rustling across the grass, collecting the morning dew.
“Good morning,” Zach said cheerfully when I reached him and Amias.
Though I’d seen him smile before, after witnessing the cold way he’d faced Amias and accepted his challenge, his smile felt different now. I was much more aware of it.
“Good morning,” I replied politely. “Do you need to hear the rul
es of the duel?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve never been in a formal one like this before,” Zach said. Amias drew his sword.
“They’re simple. You will each receive a battle Kiss to increase your speed, strength, and skill. The prince who yields first, loses. Are you both ready?”
Zach nodded. Amias swung his sword, then hooked it back on his belt. He held out his hand. My last Kiss with a prince had been Kellian’s failed revival Kiss, and a brief twinge of fear pricked my insides that this one wouldn’t work, either.
I took his hand, and with a few steps, closed the distance between us. He bent his head down and Kissed me.
As his lips touched mine, the words of the battle spell—Silen proderr Natalya—echoed in my mind, and I felt my magic, beckoned by his Kiss, pull from my chest and leave me, rising up to meet Amias’s. His magic, rough and unyielding like unrefined steel, seized mine, and the familiar weakening sensation passed through me. Had it been a stronger spell, it would have cost me more, because Amias always drew so much of my magic. My other partners never acted so greedy. But at least I knew now that my Kiss was still as powerful as always.
Amias released me, his entire body glowing blue as the battle magic pulsed around him gently, enhancing his body and preparing him for the fight.
“As expected from your lips, Ivy, I am invincible. Imagine what we could produce in the bedchamber.” Amias gave a ravenous smirk.
Revulsion rose in me, turning to nausea. I hated the way Amias looked at me as if I was just a power arsenal, but his sexual innuendos were the worst. As if I would actually agree to lying with him. I prayed that when I was finally sent to Freida he would not become the father of any of my children.
It was with that thought I realized I was rooting for Zach, a complete stranger and the son of a heretic. Lesser of two evils, I supposed.
I turned to Zach, studying him for the second time. I recalled my sister’s words—I think he’s gorgeous. I wouldn’t have said “gorgeous,” but he was good-looking. Originally he seemed lanky, but he was actually lithe and strong, toned but not burdened by huge muscles that would slow him down. His face, without his goofy smile, was slim, all angles—attractive but not in an obvious pretty-boy way.
