Ashes

by Lauralana Dunne

  The Prince’s hand remained outstretched, insistent, as a half-smile played across his lips as he refused to back down. “I won’t let you fall.”

  Blushing, Phoenix accepted his invitation and gasped as he twirled her onto the dance floor. She was conscious of the feeling of his body against hers, the heat of his touch and the strength of his arms around her. “You’re a much better dancer than you give yourself credit for,” he murmured.

  Phoenix felt the room whirl around her. “T-thank you.” She tried to remain composed, but she was sure her face gave away her relief when he opted for the simpler steps of the dance routine.

  The Prince gave a low laugh and led her into another spin, catching her when she became dizzy. “I could do this all night,” he confided. “But, unfortunately, duty calls.”

  Phoenix found it hard to focus. A mental chuckle invaded her mind and her attention snapped up to the rafters. “You be quiet,” she muttered at Rorin.

  “Pardon?” Price Hallan asked mildly.

  “Nothing, Your Highness.”

  The music swelled into a crescendo, and Phoenix mindlessly kept time with the Prince’s movements, matching his steps as he led her around the room.

  Everyone ready your positions.

  Phoenix faltered, nearly tripping as the dance continued around her. Prince Hallan caught her easily. “Is something wrong?”

  Phoenix shook her head, looking around the room slowly. “I think we have to move.”

  Price Hallan blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “People are taking their positions.”

  Prince Hallan pulled her closer. Grasping her wrists, he peered down at her. “What do you mean, positions?” His emerald eyes were bright as he scanned her face.

  The music dropped into silence and a hush fell over the room. Phoenix craned her head to see King Benedict standing on the dais. His head held high, he closed the distance to his throne easily. The ornate chair was almost a twin of the one in his meeting chambers. The only difference was that the crescent moon was replaced by a large pale stone that was recessed into the top of the high chair back. The stone swirled with different shades of blue that looked as though they were moving with each other. It hung like a full moon over the Angorian landscape which was carved into the polished wood.

  The room held its breath, waiting, as the King sat on the cushioned seat. Phoenix stood frozen as a ripple of power emanated from the throne. In response, the orb glowed a brilliant blue. It grew brighter until the light could no longer be contained, and it shot up from the stone and through the glass dome that stretched over the high ceiling of the dais.

  The beacon of light illuminated the dark sky, and Phoenix felt the Land sigh in relief as King Benedict’s strength reiterated his hold on Angoria.

  The castle cheered.

  “My friends!” his voice boomed, augmented easily with help from Master Malcourt’s Power. “It is time for the entertainment!”

  We are almost in place.

  Prince Hallan dropped Phoenix’s hands. “Are you a Futurecaller as well?” he joked, eyes dancing merrily.

  What’s going on? Rorin’s voice flowed easily through the din, pooling in Phoenix’s head.

  “I don’t know,” Phoenix confessed.

  Prince Hallan, misunderstanding her meaning, gave her a wink. “We’ll figure it out eventually.” He turned her slightly so that she was facing the King. “Find me after your performance,” he commanded softly, his breath caressing the shell of her ear. One of his hands pressed to the small of her back while the other rested on her waist. She nodded, blushing, and Prince Hallan propelled her forward with a parting chuckle.

  Phoenix walked woodenly to where Camden waited, ignoring the incredulous look he shot her.

  Master Malcourt took charge of the room, his voice projecting easily as he introduced their act.

  You humans always did love your pageantry. Rorin’s tone was amused as it landed gently in her head. Must everything be so dramatic?

  Phoenix shot a look above her, uncertain where he was perched, but counted on her roaming gaze to rake across him eventually. A huff of laughter was his only response, and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Camden hissed at her out of the corner of his mouth. He was doing his best to look relaxed in his new embroidered Caller’s outfit, but the stormy grey of his eyes gave away the tension that lined his body.

  Front and centre stood Camden’s uncle, Lord Nelson. She recognized him as the man who had been sitting with Camden during last night’s meal. His arms were crossed over his chest as he glared at the three Callers. His thick fingers drummed on his upper arm as he waited, undoubtedly wanting to get back to the drink and revelry. Her attention narrowed on his brazen show of irritation. Other than his son, who else had he spoken with tonight?

  Lord Nelson met Phoenix’s gaze, his eyes hard. Phoenix held his stare past the point of comfort, and his lip twisted into a sneer in response.

  Fine. If he was waiting for her to back down, then she was happy to disappoint. She looked through him, her face a mask of boredom as she flicked her eyes away dismissively. She saw him redden out of the corner of her eye, but ignored it as Camden nudged her forward.

  Malcourt had finished his speech and stepped back, allowing the two to come forward to take their places.

  Camden stopped where their Master had stood, but Phoenix continued forward, slipping momentarily in a puddle of something slick before catching herself. Her face turned red as she strode across the length of the dance floor to stand at the opposite end of the room.

  A feeling of unease settled over her. She glanced around, looking for what had prompted it, but could see nothing out of place.

  Above her, suspended single-file on crisscrossed threads, colored glass vials hung from silver strands. They swayed softly, resting at different lengths as if a path of stars had spilled over the dance floor.

  The only sound in the room was Phoenix’s even footsteps on the wooden floorboards. When she stopped, the silence hung around her, expectantly, like a held breath as she turned back around to face Camden.

  Her position was marked by the absence of the hanging glass. Even the light from the roaring hearths shied away, letting the shadows deepen as they twined around her skirts. Phoenix stood motionless, her muscles clenched to keep her body still as she felt everyone’s eyes on her. Their curiosity bored into her bowed head from every angle as the room - the very kingdom - waited.

  She sent a thought to the sleeping pool within her. A gentle nudge had the Power whispering through her veins, waking her senses as it heated her core. Phoenix reached out to it, beckoning it, and it stirred in response to her invitation.

  Someone tittered behind her. Another to her left echoed the noise, and Phoenix lifted her head in their direction, reveling in the calm that flowed through her instead of the embarrassment she was used to feeling. If they thought that Callers were amusing, then she would certainly give them something to laugh about. Even the assassin would think twice before they were done.

  “Showtime,” she murmured to herself.

  The word was an unleashing. She felt her Power reach out, assessing the flames within the room and tallying their strength. Starting at the dais, where they were concentrated, the candles began to wink out one-by-one. Slowly the room began to darken. Imperceptibly at first, then as a wave of midnight that crashed across the room, cresting over Phoenix and the massive harth that remained lit behind her. It roared a protest, rallying brightly in an attempt to fight, then extinguished with such a loud huff that those next to it startled with loud oaths.

  The room was plunged into darkness. Not even the faintest whisper of a moving gown could be heard.

  Phoenix felt Malcourt’s approval tap against her skull. Wonderfully done, he praised her.

  A slow smile slid across her face at her captive audience. Extending her hand, unseen in the darkness, Phoenix gestured to the glowing coal
in the hearth. “Dance,” she murmured invitingly.

  There was a soft pop in response. A flake of the ember detached and, with a whispered surge from Camden that pulled at her senses, rose hauntingly into the air. It floated unerringly towards Phoenix and landed on one of the small mirrors on her dress, an ember living in the reflection of its spark. Phoenix controlled its slow burn on instinct as her attention settled on the embers in its wake.

  Like a procession of tiny firebugs, each glowing flake settled on her skirts like a faceted jewel, pulsing with life.

  The embers continued to tumble from the hearth, drifting past Phoenix, rotating in a swirling vortex, higher and higher, until they reached the hanging vials.

  The first sparks touched the woven silver thread, their pinpoints of light transferring to the spun metal, then sliding down it to the wick-topped colored glass.

  The room was full of falling stars. They spiralled out from where Phoenix stood, a sparkling sun in a darkened sky, slowing building a moving path of light that led to the King himself.

  A murmur of appreciation swelled in the crowd. Heads turned as the dais came to life. King Benedict, Master Malcourt, Prince Hallan, and several other officials were basked in the rainbow glow as the colors blended and merged to create new hues that swayed gently with the breeze.

  Phoenix let her embers die out, concentrating solely on the hanging lights and making sure that they stayed lit. She used the dim light to her advantage and wiped her palms in her skirts. Now was not the time to be nervous.

  Ready? Malcourt’s voice was calm and cool. If he had any doubts, he hid them easily.

  Camden’s response was just as cool, leaving no room for Phoenix’s doubts. Of course.

  There was a pause. Phoenix felt as though it stretched for an eternity, even if it only lasted over three heartbeats. Phoenix?

  In response, the flames dimmed, and each light shrank to the point of a pinprick.

  A breeze manifested from the still air. It snaked around the room, gathering strength as it bounced against the walls and nipped at the onlookers, raising cries of dismay as those affected hurriedly straightened their outfits.

  Phoenix bit back a grin when she saw Lord Nelson cut a glare in Camden’s direction as he adjusted his tunic.

  That’s enough, Camden, Master Malcourt’s voice was not without humor while chiding him, and Phoenix was certain she could hear a poorly-disguised mental laugh from Rorin.

  Camden’s only response was to use his Power to pull at Phoenix’s long skirts with enough force that she slid easily to the centre of the room. Stunned silence surrounded them. Camden inclined his head and, with a whispered thought, floated the wooden performance rings to their starting positions.

  As one whizzed past her head, Phoenix detected the same bitter scent that had grabbed her attention when she first started dancing with the Prince.

  The Prince.

  Phoenix scanned the crowd, her breath stalling when she caught sight of him. He stood at the forefront of the dais, scanning the crowd as Master Malcourt helped King Benedict back to his throne. Prince Hallan’s eyes were not on her as she was hoping, but focused instead on the twinkling lights above her.

  You’re drooling, Rorin’s dry voice slid into her thoughts.

  Phoenix snapped her attention up to the rafters. She made a show of fixing her hair in order to disguise a vulgar gesture that she directed at the gargoyle. She grinned when his mental laughter floated down to her.

  Camden stood stiffly as he watched her, and Phoenix realized that he had been quietly waiting for her to continue. Conscious of everyone’s eyes on her, Phoenix shook off her distractions and gave Camden a smile to signal that she was ready. She was relieved when he smiled back in response, and she was struck for a moment on how much his face softened when he smiled.

  The reflection was short-lived as a moment later a wooden ring hurtled towards her head without warning.

  Easily, the two slipped into their routine, passing their Power back and forth as if they had been training together for years. Camden’s wind easily fanned Phoenix’s flames, teasing them so that they burned brighter before he eventually smothered them. In response, Phoenix pitched her fire so that it travelled between the moving rings, flaring as it jumped from ball to ring, sometimes barely clearing Camden’s head or her arm in the process.

  The crowd gasped or murmured appreciatively. It was all for show. Between Camden’s air buffer and Phoenix’s immunity, there was no danger of either of them getting burned. They didn’t feel the need to share that with the audience.

  The routine escalated. Camden floated additional projectiles from where he had nestled them in their carrying cases. Hidden cases spread around the room opened seemingly of their own accord. Gasps in the crowd punctuated the arrival of the new rings as they flew past their unsuspecting heads.

  Phoenix raised a brow at Camden and he smirked. He planted his feet apart and raised his arms, bringing the projectiles towards him.

  “Dramatic, much?” she muttered under her breath, attempting to call to him across the floor.

  Camden flashed her a grin. You love it.

  Phoenix couldn’t help but grin in response. His pale eyes flashed silver, his expression lighter than she had seen it in many moons. Could it be? Camden was actually having fun.

  Her reflection was cut short as three wooden rings flew towards her, signaling the shift into the next phase of the routine.

  This time Phoenix was going to keep the targets burning. She flicked her wrists and scattered them mid-air like a flock of birds. Each one skimmed past her, brushing against her outstretched hands, striking against her fingertips or an errant swish of her skirts, igniting them before they landed on the cold stone floor.

  A murmur of apprehension went through the crowd as the wood continued to burn. Phoenix felt a thrill go through her at their response as the mood shifted around her. She could feel their undivided attention.

  Wooden projectiles shot at her from different angles and Phoenix set them all ablaze with a single word. She didn’t wait for them to get close enough to touch her. This time she used the trick that she had learned that morning, and sent the flame jumping from one projectile to the next.

  Once they had caught, she withdrew her attention from the rings, removing her connection to the pulse of the flames. There was a brief sputter of protest before the fires resumed burning on their own.

  Additional rings rolled across the floor. Camden’s eyes followed the moving pieces as they touched off the individual fires, pausing just long enough to share the heat before continuing to their final positions. When he finished, a ring of fire stretched around the pair and surrounded them in an unbreakable blaze.

  Phoenix turned her concentration inwards. She fed the small pool of heat inside of her, stoking it gently until it thrummed in her ears.

  A sharp pop behind her caught her attention. Her concentration faltered. Phoenix glanced behind her to see that the fire had somehow spread outside of the closed ring and in a line across the smooth stone floor. She tried to extinguish it but found that she had no control over it. The fire burned differently than the rest.

  Careful, Master Malcourt warned her. Reign it back if you can’t control it all at once.

  Phoenix frowned. She didn’t realize that she had even created it.

  Unable to snuff it out, she openly glared at the offshoot until the flames withered and died.

  Remind me not to do anything to earn that look, Rorin’s amused voice slid into her head.

  Phoenix snorted and cast a look around the room. He was still hidden, something that continued to surprise her because of how close he sounded.

  Feeling self-conscious, Phoenix brought her attention back to the floor. Almost every eye in the room was trained on her. Instead of shrinking away, Phoenix straightened her spine instead. Callers were celebrated in Prince Hallan’s homeland. Maybe Angoria would start to follow suit.

  Prince Hallan.

&nb
sp; Phoenix located him and felt deflated that she didn’t have his attention. His head was tilted upwards, his eyes fixated on the colored globes that hung from the ceiling.

  She followed his gaze and noted that the globes had started swaying in the breeze. Camden would have to decrease the strength of his Power if he didn’t want to break the decorations.

  The thrum of her Power heated her veins. Her focus ring began to vibrate on a different frequency, gearing up to dissipate her Power’s build-up, and Phoenix soothed it with a thought so that it didn’t interrupt her.

  “Rise,” she said, releasing her Power.

  Balls of flame immediately rose from the burning ring. The flaming globes rose like heated lanterns into the air. They were small, but plentiful enough that Phoenix could feel the temperature rising around her as they floated towards the rafters.

  Try not to singe my wings, Rorin told her. I’d like them to stay intact.

  “Baby,” Phoenix muttered, while simultaneously creating more of the small globes to join the first ones and create a wall of heat. She withdrew her control so that Camden could propel them around the room.

  The glass hanging above them clinked. The sound went through her and Phoenix jerked her head towards it.

  The colored glass was swinging back and forth on the end of the silver threads. Another breeze snaked through the air, weaving between the globes and the rising fire wisps and tossing them into each other haphazardly.

  Camden, slow down, Master Malcourt’s voice was a forced calm over the clinking glass.

  It’s not me, Master. Phoenix felt the muted desperation in his response. I’m not controlling it.

  Then what-

  Master Malcourt’s question was cut short by the sound of breaking glass.

  Phoenix watched as the hanging globes shattered against each other. A thin liquid spilled out of the containers, pouring down from the ceiling like a bitter-smelling rain as it was thrown from the broken containers. The scent clung to the inside of Phoenix’s nose and she opened her mouth to keep from gagging. The smell was familiar. It was a stronger version of what she had noticed while she was dancing with the Prince.