Magic of Fire and Shadows (Curse of the Ctyri Book 1)

by Raye Wagner

  The rider clicked his tongue, and his horse stepped closer.

  Vasi’s heart pounded, and she tried to think of how to ask for his aid, but the words refused to come together in a coherent string. Finally, she blurted, “Will you help me save my father? Will you help me save Beloch?”

  The djinni held out his hand. “Come with me. I will help.”

  Vasi thought about it only for a moment. She still had her father’s knife, so if the masked horseman tried anything, she’d stab him, but she wanted so much for this to be real. Approaching the man on horseback, she said, “My name is Vasilisa. What’s yours?”

  His lips tipped up in a half smile. “Nice to meet you, Vasilisa.” He took her hand and pulled her up in front of him on the horse. When she was situated, he said, “I’m Aksel.”

  25

  Adaline

  Adaline scratched her palms as she, Evzan, and her aunt walked to the border of Cervene. They were making progress but not nearly enough and definitely not fast enough. Adaline glanced down at her palms, the skin now smooth and unmarred from touching the Phoenix Fire again. Last night, the three of them had come to the wall as they had every night for the last several weeks. Adaline spent hours with her hands to the magical barrier, trying to tear it down with varying degrees of success. Occasionally, soldiers could rush through a hole. Early this morning, just past sunrise, thousands of men marched into Beloch to join the others already there.

  But Adaline refused to accept any praise until the wall was gone and the tens of thousands of men in her army were through. When that happened, they would have a strong enough force to ruin the tsar.

  The cool evening air tickled her arms and face, a relief from the blaring sun, making the walk to the wall bearable. The last kiss of light hung on the horizon, and Adaline dropped her gaze down over the doublet and hose she wore to her booted feet and then to the trampled path. Adaline tried to copy Dimira’s graceful stride but gave up when Evzan chuckled from behind.

  “Why do you insist on wearing men’s clothing, my dear? You only further the rumors when the courtiers see you dressed so,” Dimira said, waving Adaline forward to join her and away from the lurking Evzan walking several paces behind. “If you tried just a little more, I’m sure you could fit in. The Vanda girls would love to befriend you. They are vapid but well enough liked that it would ease this transition. You need to form alliances in the ballroom as well as the battlefield.”

  Adaline cringed. Dimira meant well; she always meant well. But it didn’t seem to matter how much Dimira tried to help Adaline. The princess simply didn’t fit in—not in the ballroom or the battlefield.

  And she was no longer the spare-heir; she belonged to Cervene. As the crown princess, when she turned eighteen in just over two months, she’d be Queen. Adaline was determined to do what was right for her country.

  Evzan quickened his pace and brushed against Adaline with a smile and a head-tilt she was sure meant chin up. He was far too handsome, roguishly handsome. His sandy-blond hair was too unruly to tame with a leather strap today, and soft curls brushed his cheekbones and jaw. His lip curled into a half smile when he caught her staring.

  She glared in return. Adaline was getting emotional whiplash from their interactions. Besides his mood swings and vacillating interest, there was something else about her guard she couldn’t quite pin down that made her stomach flip.

  “If the princess was being nice to the Vanda twins, all of Cervene would call her a liar,” Evzan said in a deep voice, his tone rich with mirth. “How is anyone going to trust their monarch if they know she’s a liar? At least everyone knows what they’re getting with Adaline when she’s herself . . . in a tunic and hose.”

  Adaline frowned, not sure if Evzan meant his statement as a compliment or an insult. She bit the side of her mouth, desperately wanting to snap back a witty retort, but all she could come up with were petty insults, which would likely lead to more teasing. Probably about her maturity or lack thereof. She would think of something marvelous in twenty minutes when the retort would be pointless.

  “Whatever is the matter, Princess?” he asked, leveling his blue gaze at her.

  Dimira stopped and faced them. “Stop teasing the poor girl, Evzan. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing her? I need her to be able to focus.”

  Evzan shrugged but continued to study Adaline. “Of course, Queen Regent,” he said, keeping his gaze on the princess. “I beg your pardon.”

  Poor girl? Adaline needed to have another talk with Dimira. While the queen regent’s defense was well-intended, the backhanded aid wasn’t helping. Dimira’s constant interference would erode the people’s confidence in Adaline, starting with her council.

  Adaline glanced at the few men of Cervene’s council who accompanied them. Most of them were talking with each other, but Lord Billiere and Lord Peyrce both met her gaze, the former with a frown and the latter with raised brows. Adaline needed to pick her battles, and the ones that mattered most were regarding policy not pride, but she couldn’t afford to be seen as a useless princess anymore.

  She’d resumed her training with Evzan, and most of the time he acted as though the thoughtful time in her room had never happened. They worked hard, and there were times she felt she could trust him with anything. Other times, like now, he was insufferable. He was like a puzzle with several missing pieces.

  Dimira turned her back, and he winked at Adaline.

  A lot of missing pieces. Did he think he was funny? Why else would he act like that? Her heart clenched and mind spun. With no idea what to say, Adaline quickened her pace, but she unconsciously reached up to touch her talisman. Was it wrong that she felt stronger with him here? Even if she didn’t know what to say, having him here increased her confidence. Some. “Do you think we’ll be able to bring down the wall tonight?”

  Dimira frowned, a line creasing her otherwise smooth forehead. “I think you’ll have to make up your mind, Adaline,” she said. “Once you decide you’re going to bring down the wall, then you’ll be able to do it.”

  The closer they got to the Phoenix Fire, the more Adaline’s palms itched and burned, like a healing scab.

  “If you put a little lavender oil on at night, your skin will heal faster,” Evzan said as he caught up to her. “And a little comfrey will help you sleep better.”

  Maybe he wasn’t missing half the pieces of his puzzle. Maybe he just . . . kept them hidden.

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.

  The wall loomed ahead, and Adaline’s attention fixated on the barrier. Whatever magic held the border of Beloch safe from the weapons of Cervene extended as high as she could see. The wall shimmered in threads of silver, blue, and red, almost like a live flame. The light was contained to the wall, lending no illumination to the fields around it. No heat emanated from it either unless she touched it. Adaline's stomach churned, anxiety crawling from deep within her gut to her chest and then outward to her extremities.

  “Can you see it? Can you see the hole from before?” Dimira asked. “Do the holes stay open, or do they close?”

  Adaline frowned at the wall. “Just the one from this morning.”

  The hole was just over two feet wide, and Adaline marked the irregular area with stones. While a soldier could pass through the space easily, it would allow only one man at a time. Certainly not big enough for an invasion.

  “My darling.” Dimira wrapped an arm around Adaline’s shoulders. “Are you sure you really want this? Maybe you’re not fully invested in making this happen.”

  Dimira’s words stung. Mostly because they were the same words of doubt running through Adaline’s mind. If she just wanted it bad enough, she should be able to make it happen. “I want to bring the wall down and avenge my family.”

  “Maybe,” Evzan muttered. “Maybe you don’t know what you want.”

  “Why are you even here, Captain Shulz?” she snapped. “I'm sure it's delightful to taunt me, but what purpose does it serve?�
�� Adaline turned from Evzan to her aunt. “Do we really need him here? May I send him away?”

  Evzan’s expression darkened in a second, and his eyes flashed fire. Stepping close to Adaline, he said in a low voice, “You have no idea the purpose I serve, Highness. If you understood, you would not be so quick to get rid of me.”

  His words startled Adaline, and her heart raced.

  His gaze dropped, and he touched the thin chain around her neck. “I will always keep you safe, Adaline,” he whispered. “Always.”

  This Evzan was terrifying, but not because she was scared of him. Her heart thumped against her ribs, and the anxiety crawling over her skin made her want to flee. Adaline tried to rationalize his behavior; he was like the other courtiers, climbing and clambering for social status with the queen regent, a sycophant. Only, this made no sense to her heart.

  “One day, I will be Queen, and then I will have all the power and won’t need anyone to keep me safe. And then, I’ll send you on a very long trip far away from me,” Adaline told him vehemently.

  Evzan raised his eyebrows, and his lips twitched into a smile. His gaze darted to her lips, and the energy between them heated. In a low whisper, he said, “I love it when you own your power. Maybe one day you'll actually possess it. And it’s General Shulz; I got a promotion, remember?”

  “I heard even though you neglected to mention it.” Adaline crossed her arms as she glared at him. He seemed to always have the right way of needling under her skin. “And what did you do that warranted promotion, exactly? I’m fairly certain your extensive badgering of royalty should’ve landed a demotion. Was there an error?”

  “Stop bickering, you two,” Queen Regent Dimira snapped. “Adaline, come here.”

  How had they gotten to the wall so quickly? Adaline had barely had time to be nervous because—She glanced back at Evzan, who offered another wink. He’d done that intentionally? Adaline shook her head to clear her thoughts and then stepped up to the wall. Dread filled her belly as she anticipated the pain that would come with touching the Fire.

  “Think of your parents. Think of how your sister, mother, and father were all destroyed in the most horrific and painful way,” Dimira said. “Think of your anger and how glorious it’ll feel when you have avenged their lives. Concentrate on destroying the wall so that our armies can wipe out those who have stolen everything from you.”

  Dimira’s words smacked Adaline, reminding her of the pain, sadness, and horror she’d felt when she saw her sister’s dead body. The princess focused inward, all the way down to her core and the gaping emptiness in her soul demanding revenge. With a deep breath, she raised her hands to the wall.

  “Tear it open,” Dimira whispered as she reached up and squeezed Adaline’s shoulders. “Tear it open, and avenge them.”

  But tearing the Fire wouldn’t work. Adaline drew the dark void of her loss and channeled the emptiness outward through her arms and into her hands. She poured the barren and hollow ache out to the tips of her fingers and grabbed the edges of the hole she’d created this morning, heaving with all of her power and letting the darkness from within absorb the light. She thought of sucking the magic into her soul, trading the energy for the emptiness.

  Searing pain squeezed her insides, sharp, stabbing, and burning all at once as she ripped into the foundation of the Phoenix Fire. She mourned what she would never have with her family and ached for what she still hoped she would become for her people. She forced the pain in her soul to leech away the barriers of justice so she could find peace. The agony crawled from her fingers up her arms and into her brain until her vision was consumed with blinding white.

  Suddenly, the torment was gone. The waves of pain receded and dulled into a throbbing ache. The white rebounded to gray and then faded to black. A warm sense of safety cocooned Adaline as exhaustion threatened to pull her under. She blinked and then opened her eyes to see Evzan kneeling on the ground, the waning gibbous on the horizon behind him. He’d prevented her collapse to the ground and still cradled her in his arms. The comfort of his touch renewed her fear, and she rasped, “Release me.”

  His attention was intensely focused on Dimira, his lips thin, his jaw tight, and he ignored Adaline as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

  “Let me go,” she rasped, struggling to sit up. “Or I’ll stab you in the leg.” But the threat was empty because while she had her sword, it was sheathed and awkwardly lodged between their bodies.

  Evzan glanced down on her, and his harsh demeanor faded, replaced by relief that morphed into a sardonic smirk. “Pardon, Highness. I was quite enjoying the view.”

  Adaline wasn’t sure if he meant of her or Queen Regent Dimira, not that it should matter. With a withering glare, the princess pushed his arm away, but she was too weak to stand on her own and had to accept his help a moment later. Her legs wobbled, but as soon as she was on her feet, she pushed his hands away. Throw away the pieces.

  Adaline stared at the burning wall of power that no longer protected Beloch. The Fire was completely unrecognizable. In the center of the iridescent border was a gaping black maw, the edges flapping with jagged energy. “The border’s gone. They can get through.”

  “Excellent.”

  Their party rode up the ridge and dismounted. Torch-bearers surrounded them, and the queen regent stared down into the valley at the soldiers cresting the hills toward the border, face lit with triumph. “General Shulz, give the command.”

  A moment later, Dimira walked to the edge of the embankment to address the amassed armies below. “Citizens of Cervene! You’ve begged for justice, demanded revenge!”

  The crowd screamed, and Dimira waited for the cacophony to die before she continued. “Tonight, I’ve delivered. From Vecny pass to the towering pines, the Phoenix Fire is down. Generals, bring your men. All of Beloch will quake before Cervene.” Dimira raised her arms and yelled, “Forward!”

  A great cry arose, and among the mingled cheers and hollers, a chant, “Praise the queen! Praise the queen!”

  Adaline stared at her aunt with growing unease. Another cheer resounded in the valley below, and the princess turned to watch the soldiers funnel through the hole, first by the hundreds and then thousands. Waves of men poured into the kingdom of Beloch. Finally, she would have her revenge.

  “Interesting that you didn’t mention the princess,” Evzan said in a low voice as Dimira approached them. He stood next to Adaline, his arm still around her waist.

  “I’m determined to keep her safe from rumors and snide comments,” Dimira defended, not sounding at all concerned.

  Adaline opened her mouth to say something, but the words dried up and disappeared on the wind. The evening sun had dipped below the horizon, and only a few rays of light illuminated the valley, but there, too, were torchbearers near the ensigns of Cervene. The princess blinked, but the strange apparition in the valley didn’t disappear or change.

  A horse and rider—no, two riders parted her men like an arrow as they rode hard, approaching Cervene from inside Beloch. The horse was black, as dark as night, and the rider in back was almost invisible and clothed in leathers the color of pitch. But the other rider, she was dainty, petite, with tendrils of gingery hair escaping her braid.

  Adaline watched them, transfixed, as they drew closer and closer to the border.

  “Do you see them?” she asked, pointing out into the sea of her army.

  “Evzan, take the princess back to the castle,” Dimira said with a shake of her head, not even bothering to look out over the valley. “She’s exhausted.”

  “I’m fine. I—” Adaline stopped as the riders pulled their mount to a halt. “Don’t you see the horseman in black and that girl?”

  She glanced up at Evzan just in time to see his eyes widen, and then his gaze flattened.

  He dropped his arm from around her waist and said, “I hope you develop a taste for destruction. I have a feeling you’ve planted a lot of it.”

  26

  Vasilisa<
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  The wind whipped past Vasi, pulling her hair loose from its braid and burning her cheeks as the djinni’s horse galloped out of the forest and onto the plains of Beloch. The scenery blurred as they rode impossibly fast. The trees, then rolling hills, and then the valley with walled dukedoms in the distance, passed like water paints running together.

  Aksel held her, his strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her balanced on the horse although she felt far from stable. The stallion’s muscles bunched and rolled under her legs in swift, strong movements, sending spikes of blinding pain up her spine and into her head, causing her to wince with every step, and she swayed in the saddle.

  “Are we going to see my father now?” Vasi yelled though the wind ripped away her voice, and Vasi doubted Aksel could hear her.

  Her stomach roiled, and Vasi pushed back into Aksel’s chest, desperate to alleviate the throbbing discomfort pulsing through her. After running on adrenaline for days, every muscle in her body hurt. But she’d done it. Lord Baine was dead. She’d found a djinni, no other than Aksel, and he’d agreed to help restore the fire and save her father. Soon, the djinni would stop the war, and all of her problems would be over.

  He pulled the reins, and his massive stallion slowed.

  Vasi blinked, and her mouth dried as she tried to make sense of the scene around her.

  In front of them, rising up into the evening sky, was a shimmering wall of iridescent flame with a massive gaping hole. The tattered edges flapped in the wind like a burning curtain. Through the ragged hole, an army of tens of thousands marched, their standards whipping in the air.

  As Vasi and Aksel approached, she heard the distant sounds of the mounted men in armor bellowing orders at lines of soldiers. Dust sprayed out around them, reddening in the light of their torches and the dying rays of the sun so red it appeared as if Beloch itself bled at the enemy army’s approach.