Through the White Wood

by Jessica Leake

  As soon as she laid eyes on the prince, her eyes began to shine as though she was holding back tears. “Your Highness,” she said, bowing her head. “I am Aemilia, your mother’s handmaiden. I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I remember you. When you last visited this city, you were only a child. How you look like your mother now! It both pains me and brings me such joy to look upon her beloved face again.”

  Sasha reached out and touched Aemilia’s slim shoulder. “I do remember you—you made sure I had a steady supply of sweets. For that, I am eternally grateful.”

  She laughed. “It was the least I could do.”

  “Will you help me again?” he asked, his gaze turning serious.

  “Of course.”

  He glanced around, and I followed his line of sight to the nearest guard, who was out of the range of hearing—but only just. Sasha leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I’ve come seeking information on the firebird.”

  I thought of the feather illuminating the prince’s trunk on board the ship, and the flames that he could summon from his palms. In spite of myself, curiosity gripped me.

  Aemilia closed her eyes for a moment, as if saddened, before nodding. “I will help you, but we will have to leave the palace complex. The information you seek is in the heart of the city, guarded by a sorcerer of considerable strength.”

  Cold spread over my skin. First the bone witch and now a sorcerer?

  “He’ll be no match for us,” Boris said.

  “Be silent, fool,” Ivan growled.

  Aemilia shook her head. “You misunderstand me. He has been waiting for you, guarding your mother’s secrets.”

  “Lead on, and we will follow,” Sasha said.

  Aemilia bowed once and strode away purposefully. The others and I followed. As we walked, I thought of what the empresses had said, how any hope that the Byzantines would help us had been dashed. Now the only hope left was that Sasha would learn about his power.

  Earth will only fall to fire and ice.

  I had to pray it was true.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  AEMILIA LED US THROUGH THE LABYRINTH of narrow streets in the heart of the city. We wove past both grand buildings like we’d seen before and smaller buildings that were becoming increasingly run-down. Eventually, we were surrounded by nothing but ramshackle homes, some without doors. Ragged cloth served as a sort of curtain that hung in the doorway to give a modicum of privacy. Here there were no columns, no ornate carved marble statues, nor shiny gold. This part of the city looked like it was in a different world from the one we’d just seen.

  We’d left behind the king and queen with the empresses, and now it was only the five of us: Sasha, Kharan, Ivan, Boris, and me. I stayed next to Kharan, just behind Aemilia, while Ivan and Boris flanked Sasha.

  At long last, Aemilia stopped before a house that was perhaps slightly less ramshackle than the rest. It had a true door, one of wood, and above the doorframe were symbols painted in gold: a feather, the moon, a sword, and an eye.

  Aemilia glanced around her before taking a step forward and knocking once on the door. A man, one I couldn’t see with any clarity for it was dark and gloomy within the house, answered. Aemilia spoke to him for a moment in their language, and then she turned to Sasha.

  “This is the home of Septimus, the sorcerer I spoke of. There isn’t much room within, so perhaps it would be better to leave one or two people outside if you don’t mind.”

  “Ivan, Boris,” Sasha said, “please keep watch out here.”

  Sasha stayed by my side as we followed Aemilia into the house. Kharan came last, closing the door behind her.

  The inside of the house was cramped, and even without Ivan and Boris, we took up nearly the entire space. It was lit only by a few candles, so it was difficult to see anything clearly. There was only a narrow cot, a single chair, and a table, but the rest of the house was filled with a variety of containers: copper urns and clay bowls and ceramic pots. Many were beautifully embossed with intricate designs or with painted scenes of flora and fauna.

  “Prince Alexander,” Septimus said, his voice tired and gravelly, “you are welcome here.”

  He stepped more into the light, and I could finally see his face—old and lined, but with a strong bone structure that suggested he had once been very handsome. His hair was gray and cut short, his clothing simple but clean.

  Sasha bowed his head. “I’m relieved to hear you speak our language; my Latin and Greek are barely passable.”

  “I have made a study of languages to better be able to speak to any who come to my house, just as I learned yours to be able to speak with you.”

  Sasha leaned toward the old man. “You knew I would seek you out?”

  “Not in the way I’m sure you’re imagining. I don’t have the Sight, but your mother wrote to me and said one day you would come looking for answers, and I was to provide you with the means of attaining them.”

  I glanced at Kharan to see if she was making sense of this—of why his mother would go to such lengths rather than tell the prince herself. I could see Sasha wondering the same, and Kharan’s dark eyebrows were drawn together as though she was as confused as I was.

  “We knew you weren’t to blame for what happened to your parents,” Aemilia said softly, “for your mother had suspected their lives were in danger, and it certainly wasn’t from their only son.”

  “What she couldn’t foresee, however, was when the terrible event would occur,” Septimus added, “and for a while, she hoped she was wrong. She told us that she was merely acting on suspicions that couldn’t be proven, but she wanted to plan for the worst just in case.”

  “And I failed you,” Aemilia said, tears falling freely down her cheeks now. “I failed to come and take you away like the princess asked of me. She knew how it would be for you if they were killed; she knew you’d stand accused. But word didn’t reach the palace until weeks after it had happened, and the empress forbade anyone from going to Kiev. All trade from the port was blocked.”

  “By then I was old enough that people could suspect me of being guilty—sixteen is old enough to kill one’s parents,” Sasha said bitterly. “You shouldn’t blame yourself, though, Aemilia,” he added. “I couldn’t have abandoned Kiev and my people even if you’d offered to take me away.”

  “And now forces gather to challenge your rule,” Septimus said.

  “Yes, which is why I seek information on the firebird. With its strength, I might have the chance to defend Kiev the way I should.”

  Septimus nodded thoughtfully. “What do you know of the firebird?”

  “Very little. I know it’s likely not a bird at all,” he said with a glance at me, “but instead someone with a powerful fire elemental ability. I have fire elemental ability, but it’s nothing compared to what the firebird can do. My mother made it seem as though my power could grow, but not until I took the throne. I thought if I could find the firebird, then maybe I could learn to unlock my own power, but though I’ve tried to uncover the secrets of my mother’s family and even of the feather passed down to her by her own mother, I’ve never been able to.” And then he reached inside his tunic and retrieved the gleaming feather, which lit up the small hut like the sun.

  “The firebird feather,” Aemilia said breathlessly. “I haven’t seen it since the princess was a child.”

  “It’s not, actually,” Septimus said, and all of us turned to him with matching expressions of confusion.

  “It’s not . . . what?” Sasha asked.

  “That’s a peacock feather and not a firebird feather at all.”

  Sasha’s expression turned confused and then angry in rapid succession. “How could it be a peacock feather? No peacock I’ve ever seen has glowed like this.”

  “I think a demonstration would help to illuminate the situation.” Septimus turned away toward a cabinet and opened its doors. From within, he retrieved a gold box.

  When he opened the box, a single flame was inside, floating
slightly above the bottom of the box, and burning as though lit by some phantom source. It flickered softly, but its light was as bright as the feather Sasha held.

  “May I?” Septimus asked, holding out his hand for the feather. Reluctantly, Sasha handed it to him, watching him closely all the while.

  Holding the feather by the quill, and the box in the other hand, he dipped the feather into the flame. Sasha hissed in his breath, and Aemilia cried out, but all of us fell silent when we saw that the feather didn’t burn.

  “Explain,” Sasha said, the flame reflecting in his eyes, turning them golden instead of silver.

  “This is a peacock feather infused with the flame of a firebird,” Septimus said, twisting the feather this way and that. It was none the worse for wear despite having been dipped in fire. “You were right when you said before that the firebird wasn’t a creature at all, but a person. But a true fire elemental is so rare that the legends have gotten the story slightly wrong, as legends do. A fire elemental has such complete control over fire that he or she can command it not to burn. Thus, an everlasting flame can be created from almost anything.”

  I glanced down at Elation, thinking of the bird who had given that feather. “Even an animal?”

  Septimus considered for a moment. “I would venture to say yes. That is likely how the story of the firebird being an actual bird began.”

  Sasha stared at the feather like his entire world had suddenly shifted. “Do you know how my mother came to have this, then?”

  “It was passed down in her family, from the one who carried the blood of a fire elemental.”

  “What are you saying?” Sasha asked, and when he glanced at me, I knew he was thinking of the small flames that he could summon—the ones he could never command to grow larger. “That I’m kin to a fire elemental?”

  “I’m saying you’re the descendent of one,” he said. “Your mother knew it ran in her bloodline, for her father, the emperor, had that power. It tends to skip a generation, which meant that the chances of you having it were extremely likely.”

  Sasha looked stunned. “Why wouldn’t she have told me? All this time . . .”

  “There is only one way to determine if you are a fire elemental or not.” Septimus held the golden box aloft. “You must walk through fire. I doubt your mother wanted to entrust such a secret with you before you were ready, when you might have tried to do that very thing. And what if your father’s blood was enough to dilute your mother’s? What if you walked through the flames and burned to death? She wouldn’t have risked such a thing.”

  “And then she was killed,” Sasha said, his voice pained.

  “She knew she might not be able to convey these family secrets to you herself, so she put things into motion that would allow you to discover the truth about yourself when it was time.” He held the box toward Sasha so that it illuminated him, the flame dancing off the strong bones of his face. “Do you wish to see if you have this power within you?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

  I glanced at Kharan, who by her expression, seemed to be feeling the same amount of dismay. “Gosudar,” she said, “might it not be better to be cautious?”

  He didn’t answer her, but instead turned to Septimus. “What happens if I do not have the power of a fire elemental?”

  “You will burn.”

  This did not seem to alter his decision in the slightest, for he only nodded.

  “Why does the prince have to enter fire to access his power?” I asked Septimus, thinking of my own. I’d been born with my power.

  “Do you remember tales that a firebird must rise from the ashes of its predecessor? For it, the fire does not destroy, but rather gives it life. It’s the same for a fire elemental. The fire is purifying, life-giving. It will bring the power that lies dormant in the prince’s blood to the surface.”

  “If he has enough of that blood,” Kharan said with a heavy dose of skepticism. “Otherwise, it’ll just burn him alive.”

  Sasha sent her a silencing look. “I can summon a small flame and it’s never burned me. I must do this. It’s worth the risk if it means I might be granted the power to defeat our enemies.”

  Septimus bowed his head once. “Then come, we must go deep within the earth, to a place outside the city, where we will be safe from the flames and from prying eyes.”

  “That sounds like a tomb,” Kharan said.

  Both Septimus and Sasha ignored her, but I had to hope that wasn’t some sort of premonition. If Aemilia was unsure about the test the prince must complete, she didn’t show it. No one in this city seemed to be on our side, so I had trouble believing they were just because they said so.

  “Wait,” I said as Septimus turned toward the door. “Forgive me, but is there some way you can prove that you’re acting on the princess’s wishes? You have that flame, I know, but how are we to know how you obtained it?”

  I expected a reprimand from Sasha as Septimus turned to me with gray eyebrows raised, but he only waited for Septimus to respond.

  “You didn’t look at the inscription on the box,” he said, handing it back to the prince.

  Sasha took it and carefully turned it over. “Pro filio meo Sasha: de cinere surgebis,” he read aloud slowly. “For my son Sasha: from the ashes you will rise.”

  He met my gaze, and his eyes were full of wonder, as though his mother had resurrected before us and spoken the words herself.

  “She believed in you,” Septimus said quietly, “and I do, too.”

  “Does this convince you, Katya?” Sasha asked, and by his sincere tone I could see he truly wanted me to answer.

  I thought of what the bannik had said about fire and ice. I thought of the flames around Sasha’s palms that had never burned him. But most of all, I thought about how he had helped me when I wanted to discover who my mother was. Who I really was. “Yes,” I said.

  Sasha nodded once. “Then let us go.”

  The others went out the door, but before I could follow, again Sasha took my arm in his. The heat of him was enough to be felt through my clothing.

  I watched him for a moment. “Did you suspect the truth—that you were the firebird?”

  “No, but I thought my mother knew of its location. That was before I realized it wasn’t a creature at all—thanks to you.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “And do you think you’re going to burn to death?” I hoped I was only saying this in jest.

  He grinned. “I hope not, but if I do catch on fire, perhaps you can douse the flames with your ice?”

  “I suppose I can lend you my aid,” I said with an answering grim smile, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  We followed Aemilia and Septimus as they led the way through the city to the marble quarry, where we would see if Sasha would rise from the ashes—or be burned to death in front of our eyes.

  As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, we reached the very outskirts of the city, high atop the hills, where the marble quarry was located. The entrance to the quarry was made up of enormous marble blocks that stood far above our heads, roughly cut into rectangles instead of the polished designs found in the city. The workers had already left for the day, but Septimus lit the torches at the entrance. In front of us was a doorway of darkness, so deep the torches did nothing to illuminate what was within.

  “Once inside,” Septimus said, “we will be surrounded by marble so thick, the flames won’t be able to escape.”

  “Then what will you use to make a fire?” Kharan asked.

  “You will see,” Septimus said, already moving toward the dark doorway. “Prince Alexander, if you will open the golden box and hold it aloft, we’ll be able to find our way even in this darkness.”

  Sasha did as he was asked, and the flame was so bright, we could suddenly see all the way to the back of the entrance, where a ladder leading down waited. We kept close to the prince and the light as we made the long descent.

  When at last we reached the botto
m of a great marble cavern, every movement echoed loudly, and the darkness would have swallowed us were it not for the single flame in the golden box. The prince held it aloft, and when he came across torches, he bent to light them, but Septimus’s loud voice stopped him.

  “Do not use that flame!” Instead, Septimus brought forth a tinderbox and lit them with that. “That flame you’re holding would burn through the torch and possibly eat through the marble itself.”

  A trickle of fear ran down my spine at the prospect of such power. It was like my own, wild and untamed.

  “Then how am I to walk through it if you cannot light anything with it?” Sasha asked, his tone sharp.

  “I will show you,” Septimus said.

  He stepped forward to the center of the cavernous space, far from all of us, who were pressed against the wall of marble. Kharan was beside me, while Ivan and Boris flanked Sasha, both radiating their displeasure at this turn of events. Neither wanted their prince to take such a risk, but he had been deaf to their concerns. Aemilia stood apart from us, watching closely.

  Septimus raised his hands and spoke two words in Latin: “Rete luminus.”

  A net of light appeared before us, woven into the air itself, glowing a soft blue that reflected dully off the marble like a bruise. I glanced at Kharan, and I was sure my expression matched her look of awe.

  Septimus gestured for Sasha to bring the flame to the net. “Now you may light it.”

  Sasha held the golden box with the flame close to the net of light, and instantly, it caught on fire, blazing like an inferno. The heat was terrible, enough that even I could feel it penetrate the frost that covered my skin.

  I felt the cold rise in me in answer, coating my body in ice to combat the heat. I took a step toward Sasha, concerned that his clothes would catch on fire as close as he was.