Through Fire & Sea

by Nicole Luiken

  “It is not nothing,” Leah said fiercely. She pulled up his shirt. The slash underneath was distressingly long but had been seared shut and seeped only a little. It felt hot—but Gideon’s skin always did. Was it inflamed or just his hot blood?

  “See?” Gideon tugged his shirt back down. “It’s just a scratch.”

  Leah made a sound of frustration. “That’s hardly a scratch.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. You should have seen—” He broke off, but Leah could fill in the rest: it was a scratch compared to the wounds the dragon had given him on other nights.

  “How often?” she demanded. “How often do you wake up hurt worse than this?”

  “Not very,” he said. “Perhaps one time in ten.”

  Leah stared. Once every ten days wasn’t often? “Where did the dragon take you?”

  “I don’t know.” He averted his eyes. “The curse affects my memory. The whole night is like a dream. All I remember is flying through darkness…”

  Leah had more questions—who or what had cursed him? What did the dragon want from him?—but Gideon only shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Why doesn’t your mother drive the dragon away with her illusions?”

  He looked out at Thunderhead’s silhouette. “If the dragon is kept away, I’ll die.”

  Leah’s mouth dried. “How can we break the curse?”

  “It can’t be broken.”

  “No.” Leah clenched her hands. “I won’t accept that.”

  His mouth twisted. “Believe what you will. It won’t change anything.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Now that you know about the curse, you must promise to keep away from the Aerie after sunset. I couldn’t bear it if the dragon hurt you.”

  Her own safety was the farthest thing from her mind. “What if you hid?” Somewhere without such a huge window.

  Gideon sighed. “The dragon would find me and break its way in. All hiding would accomplish is damaging the Tower. Leah, promise me.”

  “I won’t abandon you.” His suggestion made her angry.

  “Well, I won’t endanger you! If you won’t promise me, then—then I’ll ask my mother to send another maid.”

  Leah’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t!”

  “To save you? Yes, I would. Please, Leah.”

  The panic in his eyes made her relent. She gave him the promise he wanted.

  …

  Niobe sniffed and pointedly turned her back on Leah as they rose from the breakfast table.

  Leah blinked. In her distraction over Gideon’s curse, she hadn’t taken much notice, but Niobe had been shooting odd glances at her throughout the meal.

  “She thinks you spent the night with a lover,” Sabra said once Niobe passed out of earshot.

  “I haven’t—I didn’t—” Her tongue tangled.

  “I know that,” Sabra said scornfully. “I followed you to the Mirrorhall last night. I know you slipped into one of the Mirror Worlds. Show me how, and I’ll straighten out Niobe.”

  Entered physically? “What makes you think that’s even possible?” Leah asked.

  Sabra sniffed in scorn. “Qeturah always keeps something back, you should know that by now.”

  Leah wasn’t convinced, but Sabra obviously believed. And Leah couldn’t teach her, so… She met Sabra’s gaze without blinking and lied. “I was following Duchess Qeturah’s instructions. If I teach you, she’ll be angry.”

  Sabra’s nostrils flared. “Angrier than if she has to banish her favorite Caller for being an impostor?”

  Ashes, Leah swore to herself. Sabra had her over a barrel. “Which Mirror World do you wish to enter?” Leah stalled.

  “I want to use the obsidian mirror to journey somewhere on Fire—and don’t ask where, I won’t tell.”

  Leah folded her arms. “I can’t help you if I don’t know where you want to go.”

  Sabra simmered, then bit out, “Fine. I want to go to Poison Cloud’s castle. I told Yakob to put an obsidian mirror in his chamber.”

  Yakob must be the young man she loved. Leah felt a surge of kinship. She would do anything to be with Gideon. “I don’t know if what Qeturah taught me will work on an obsidian mirror,” she said cautiously. “But we can try.” If it was possible, maybe the two of them could puzzle it out.

  A smile blazed across Sabra’s face. “Yes. I can’t wait to leave here.”

  Her joy made her seem like a different person. For the next quarter hour, she poured out her woes to Leah: how she’d been betrothed to Yakob, but her brother Talibard’s death “in a stupid accident” had reignited the feud between Smoking Cone and Poison Cloud; how her father had turned all his attention onto Sabra’s bratty seven-year-old brother, even though Sabra was next eldest and her father’s wasting disease would kill him within a year—

  Leah frowned. Sons always inherited before daughters. Apparently Sabra had taken Qeturah’s “women are as good as men” rhetoric to heart.

  “Not only does my father plan to cheat me out of my inheritance, but he sent me here to play messenger. I need to get to Yakob,” she finished. “Once we marry, his father will help me become duchess of Smoking Cone. Yakob and I will rule two duchies together.”

  Leah shifted, uneasy. Exactly how did Poison Cloud’s duke plan to help Sabra become duchess of Smoking Cone? With an army? The death of a duke was a perilous time, as the Volcano Lord grieved. Only a true heir could console him. What if the Volcano Lord favored Sabra’s younger brother?

  Before Leah could gently point out the plan’s flaws, Niobe reappeared in the doorway. She scowled at Leah and addressed Sabra. “What’s taking you so long? It’s time to check for hypocaust messages.”

  Leah wondered why they were bothering to check when they knew the dragon had attacked Cinders—except the dragon had visited the Aerie last night. The implications staggered Leah. If the dragon could fly that far in one day, then it could attack two different duchies two nights in a row.

  Neither Sabra’s nor Niobe’s blood produced anything, but the drop from Leah’s finger sizzled. She held a sheet of paper over the flame then stared at the words singed into it: Daughter, while Qeturah is away, search her rooms for proof that she’s involved in the dragon attacks. My patience is running low.

  “What does it say?” Niobe asked.

  Leah pressed the paper against her thudding heart. “My—my mother’s ill.” Or soon would be.

  She couldn’t search Qeturah’s rooms without triggering her mirror ward, but if she told the duke so, he would accuse her of making excuses.

  Sabra cursed suddenly. “Ashes. That’s not what it says.” She pointed at a silver mirror fastened to the ceiling over the hypocaust.

  Instead of reflecting their upturned faces, backward words had appeared on the mirror’s surface. Leah’s stomach lurched as she realized the mirror had reproduced the duke’s message.

  “What does it say?” Niobe asked.

  Sabra rounded on Leah. “Fool! Why do you think I waited for Qeturah’s permission to use the hypocaust?”

  But Leah had sent messages before—ah. Messages could be sent in secret, but the silver mirror recorded any ones received. As soon as Qeturah returned, Leah would be thrown out on her ear. And once the duke found out—

  “What should I do?” Leah asked. Her lips felt numb. Her poor mother… Perhaps a new message would erase the old one, but Sabra and Niobe had read it…

  “My advice is leave before Qeturah gets back.” Meaningfully, Sabra raised her eyes to the Mirrorhall.

  …

  Three days later, a feeling of cold doom had crept up on Leah. Despite trying for hours, she and Sabra hadn’t been able to travel physically through the mirrors. Nor had a new message overwritten the old. Qeturah would return on the morrow.

  As Gideon urged Leah to have the last mouthful of tart, it hit her that she’d never experience this little ritual again.

  A fist squeezed her chest as she stared up at Gideon’s dark eyes…his lips… She r
aised herself onto her knees on the bed and curled her hand around his neck, playing with the silky strands of hair.

  Gideon set down the tart. His brown eyes brightened as if lit from within.

  She swayed closer, wordless. His hands flexed around her waist.

  She touched the cord he always wore around his neck and followed it down until his shirt got in the way. Carefully, she undid the first button.

  For a second he stopped breathing. But then his hand seized hers and held her palm over his heart. She could feel it beating—faster, stronger—for her.

  “What are you doing?” His voice grew husky.

  In answer, she pressed closer and kissed him. He kissed her back just as passionately.

  She tried not to think about this being the last time, tried to concentrate on his lips and the sweet taste of the apple tart and the wondrous heat he gave off, but her treacherous mind disobeyed her. A tear slid down her cheek.

  Gideon broke away. “Leah?” He sounded confused.

  She kissed him again in a frantic bid to recapture the moment, but her tears fell faster, and he pulled away.

  “What is it? What’s wrong? Leah, you’re scaring me.”

  “Hold me,” she choked out.

  He let her cry on his shoulder then gently brushed her hair back from her face. “Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it.”

  “You—you can’t,” she sobbed.

  “Did someone hurt you?” A dangerous glitter came into his eyes, and his muscles tensed.

  Leah stared up at him in despair. If she didn’t tell him, he would hear the sordid tale from his mother later. The whole story spilled out of her: how she was really the illegitimate daughter of Duke Ruben and had been forced to spy for him.

  When she finished, Gideon growled. “I’d like to roast your father. How dare he put you in such a position?”

  Her jaw loosened; she’d expected her story to kill any soft feelings he might have for her.

  He hugged her. “Leah, do you trust me?”

  “Of course.” Gideon was the only thing in her world that made her feel safe.

  “Let me speak to my mother. Intercede for you.”

  Leah doubted that Qeturah would be swayed by pleas for mercy. But, of course, Gideon would have seen a less ruthless side of his mother. So she only nodded, miserable.

  Then the sun began to sink, and they ran out of time.

  Gideon walked her to the door. Going on tiptoe, Leah kissed him one last time, then hurried away before he caught her weeping again.

  …

  Qeturah and Zamara returned at noon the next day. Scorning the shameful urge to hide, Leah met them at the entrance.

  The instant Qeturah set foot inside the Tower, Sabra and Niobe descended on her. When Leah had failed to help Sabra travel through the obsidian mirror but still disappeared into the Mirrorhall herself, Sabra had reverted to her former hostility. Niobe was puffed up with righteous indignation.

  “Jehannah spent the night—”

  “A message came through—”

  “Silence!” Qeturah pushed past them. “I have no time for your petty squabbles.” Her expression black, she climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  No one dared follow.

  “What put her in such a temper?” Sabra asked Zamara.

  Zamara flushed guiltily as she removed her cloak. “She says my father reneged on his promise—but he didn’t! He only said he’d try to scrounge up ten sacks of wheat. The ashfall ruined the harvest, and our duchy has many mouths. The grain simply couldn’t be spared.”

  Sabra raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I gather he didn’t discover this until after she’d chased away the dragon?”

  “Well, no.”

  Sabra laughed. “She’ll make him pay double next time.”

  “My father says there won’t be a next time, that something has to be done about the dragon.”

  “What?” Leah asked hopefully. If the dragon was killed, Gideon would be free.

  “I don’t know,” Zamara said. “But I hope it’s soon. Everyone’s terrified. The dragon burned crops in Ashmount, and they say one of the Snoring Men woke up and buried a town in mud. Everyone was entombed.”

  Leah’s eyes widened. The Snoring Men were Volcano Lords who had slept for the last two centuries. They didn’t have hot-blooded dukes.

  “And who are ‘they’ who say?” Sabra challenged.

  “Everyone! I heard it from dozens of lips.”

  “Rumors.” Sabra sniffed, but Leah felt cold. The dragon was disturbing all the Volcano Lords, changing the face of the world.

  …

  Hours later, sick of waiting for the headsman’s ax to fall, Leah stood up.

  Sabra had insisted Leah remain in the study so she and the other girls could keep an eye on her, but nobody had spoken to her. The silence had given her time to think.

  She’d decided to throw herself on Qeturah’s mercy. If Cook was any indication, Qeturah harbored a soft spot for outcasts. Leah would beg to stay as a washerwoman or perhaps a weaver. She didn’t care as long as she remained close to Gideon.

  Leah avoided thinking about her mother. Duke Ruben would be furious, but the bitter truth was she could do nothing to stop him from taking his anger out on her mother. She only hoped he’d realize there was no point in hurting Beulah now that Leah’s secret was exposed.

  “Where are you going?” Sabra demanded.

  Leah ignored her and headed for the stairs. She dreaded the upcoming scene with Qeturah, but once it was over, she would be free in a way. No more pretense.

  She found Qeturah adjusting the angle of some copper mirrors. Qeturah narrowed her eyes. “I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” Leah began.

  “She’s not the real Jehannah!” Sabra burst out, hurrying into the Mirrorhall.

  “What are you talking about?” Qeturah’s brow knit. Gideon obviously hadn’t had a chance to speak to his mother. Leah forgave him. He never complained, but the dragon’s nightly visits exacted a high toll on him. He often slept the afternoons away.

  “I am Duke Ruben’s daughter—but I’m not Jehannah. My name’s Leah.” In a few stark words she told the whole story.

  Qeturah’s face whitened with rage. Her hand cracked against Leah’s face.

  Leah gasped, her cheek stinging like fire. She blinked back tears. “He threatened my mother. I had no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice. You chose to sit at my table and eat my food and betray me. What have you told him?” Qeturah lifted her hand again.

  Leah braced herself for another blow; she deserved the punishment. “Mostly your comings and goings.”

  “Stop!”

  Leah watched in amazement as Gideon hurried across the room. He interposed his body between Leah and his mother.

  “Gideon! What’re you doing down here?” Qeturah glanced out the window—checking the angle of the sun.

  “You may not touch her.” Hoarseness edged his voice.

  “Who’s he?” Sabra demanded.

  “This is my son, Gideon,” Qeturah said. “He’s an invalid. You’ll keep your mouth shut about him or lose all privileges. Understand?”

  “Speaking of privileges—”

  “You may use the hypocaust. Go, now!”

  Sabra left, though not without a curious backward glance.

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed.” Qeturah took Gideon’s arm as if she meant to hustle him back to the Aerie, but he didn’t move.

  “I heard Leah cry out.” His black brows drew down. “You must never strike her again.”

  Leah’s heart warmed.

  “I am your mother,” Qeturah said tightly, as if she could not believe his defiance.

  “Leah is my soul mate,” Gideon said.

  The word rang through Leah like a bell, resonating on a gut level. Yes.

  “Soul mate?” Qeturah’s eyebrows flew up. “You don’t have much experience with girl
s. You can’t be sure—

  “Yes, I can,” Gideon said unequivocally. “She’s mine.”

  Qeturah’s mouth pursed in vexation, but her voice became sweetly reasonable. “As your mother, I worry about you. This…attachment has happened very fast. How and when did the two of you meet? Have you been leaving the Aerie?”

  “We met when Leah delivered my supper.” Gideon looked from Qeturah to her. “Didn’t you send her?”

  The confusion on his face made Leah feel sick.

  “I did not.” Qeturah smiled maliciously. “Well, Jehannah? Or, Leah, rather. How did you find the Aerie?”

  Leah took a deep breath. “I was hiding from you. I crawled through the gap under the Four Worlds mirror and found the ladder going up.”

  Gideon’s eyes lightened. He understood.

  The tightness in her chest eased. She smiled at him.

  Qeturah studied her fingernails. “And just what have you told Duke Ruben about Gideon?”

  “Nothing,” Leah said instantly.

  “Oh? I find that hard to believe.”

  “The duke asked me to tell him of your comings and goings, not about your son.”

  Qeturah still looked suspicious.

  “I never mentioned Gideon, I swear it. I was just trying to keep my mother safe.” Her voice broke.

  Gideon snugged her against his comforting heat. “Mother, stop scaring her,” he said firmly. “Leah is my soul mate. She would never betray me.”

  Qeturah studied her coldly. “I’ll need to know exactly what you did tell your father.”

  “Of course.” Leah eagerly complied.

  “Well,” Qeturah said, after she’d questioned Leah thoroughly, “as you have done no lasting damage, and my son vouches for your sincerity, I’m prepared to forgive you.” Her lips curved up in a sardonic smile. “Duke Ruben may have done me a favor. It’s very unlikely his other daughter has four otherselves. You have a rare and valuable gift, Leah. My son has chosen well.”

  Leah felt light-headed with relief at Qeturah’s sudden acceptance. “Thank you.”

  “But no more spying. Do you agree?” Qeturah phrased it as a question, but her tone said otherwise.

  Leah’s shoulders tensed; she hated contradicting nobles, but she had to speak. “If I don’t send a message today and every four days after, the duke will break my mother’s fingers.”