by Genna Love
When dinner was over, Kailas retreated to his room for the evening. He would need to return to the temple for the nightly chant in a few hours, but for now, he had some time to himself. Their days were structured, filled mostly with prayer for the kingdom and chanting to better connect with the Divine. They were given three small meals a day, and were each assigned a rotating chore to do to keep the Monastery in good condition. Occasionally, they would mingle with the regular Lyrian people, handing out food to those living on the street or offering prayer to the elderly and sick before their souls returned to the Divine.
Up until a few months ago, he’d shared a room with Taban. But recently he had been granted a private one. It was small, with a single bed in one corner and a desk for studying next to the door, but there was just enough space between the bed and the wall for his daily exercise. He pulled open the curtains, allowing the afternoon sun to brighten his second-story room.
The window looked out into the center of the monastery, giving him a view of the garden area, and as long as he wasn’t too close to the wall, no one could see inside.
He removed his robe and laid it flat on his bed, leaving him in the nude. It was easier to work his muscles without the confinement of his robe, and now that he had a space to himself, he saw no reason he should let clothing get in the way of his exercise.
After working his chest muscles and abdominals, he dressed himself again and grabbed a book out of his nightside table. The body, mind, and spirit were all sacred, and Kailas did his best to keep all three in prime shape.
For his daily reading, he rotated through spiritual and historical texts. Right now, he was halfway through a book about Lyria’s most recent civil war, when elemental mages revolted against the crown over two centuries ago. Sweat made his palms clammy as he read about the death and discord of the time. It was during the war that magic had been outlawed by the crown once and for all.
Kailas hated that ungodly part of himself. Most days, he nearly forgot about the magic within. But reading of the destruction the mages had brought upon the kingdom and its people sent a wave of fury through his veins.
It also brought a memory.
“You must listen,” Kailas’s mother insisted.
He sniffed back the tears he felt surfacing in his eyes as he sat in a chair next to her bedside. He was eight years old, and according to his father, too old to cry. If he was caught, Kailas would be punished.
His mother reached over and grabbed his hand. Her fingers were unnaturally cold. The urge to find her another blanket or throw more wood into the fire filled him. There must have been something he could do to bring her comfort.
“I had planned to tell you when you were older, but I cannot wait any longer.” A cough rose from her chest. “You must be careful. As my son, magic runs in your veins. The same as mine and my father before me.”
Kailas looked at the door, worried they might be overheard.“Magic?”
“Our family holds the power of the sky, a most sacred gift. Hand me your toy ball.” With her free hand, she pointed across the room.
Kailas obliged.
His mother took the ball and placed it into her open hand. With her palm facing the ceiling, the ball rose an inch into the air.
“How?” Kailas asked, not sure to be amazed or afraid. Magic was forbidden.
“My magic allows me to control the air, and someday you’ll be able to do so, too.” She smiled until another coughing fit attacked. Her face had grown paler with each passing day the last week, and today, she looked more ghostly than human. “But no one can know. Not even your father. Do you understand?”
Kailas nodded.
“You are destined for great things, my boy. I have foreseen it. Someday, you’ll meet a woman who will be able to harness all the elements. For peace to come to this kingdom, you must find her. Without your help, she will die.”
“But how will I know who she is?”
“The Divine will guide you.” His mother’s arm fell to the side, sending the ball rolling across the floor. “I love you, my son. My blood is yours, and for that, I will never leave you.”
Kailas shook his head, pushing away the memory.
He was ten when the magic inside him first appeared. And at first, he reveled in his ability. Somehow, it made him feel closer to his mother. Whenever his father left the house for his business, he would practice harnessing the air within. At first, he would wear out quickly, but with time, his stamina and strength improved until he could lift objects twice the weight of his body.
But on his sixteenth birthday, his father gave him an ultimatum: join the family business or move out. He couldn’t bring himself to participate in the suffering of others, and so, he left home with no clue what his future would bring.
After one week living on the streets, he stumbled upon the Monastery. There, he was given food and shelter while he learned about the love of the Divine.
And when he joined the Brotherhood, he learned just how evil such power was. Not once since reciting his vows had he accessed the air within.
But air magic was not the only thing he inherited. His mother also had the ability to see future possibilities, a secret she’d shared with him when he was six. The future was an ever-changing puzzle, and not all of his predictions had come true, but many did. He longed to rid himself of this power, but the gift of Sight had been something much harder to escape. His visions were rare, and it had been over a year since the last had occurred.
Could eight years of repression have rid him of all the evil within? He prayed every night to be cleansed. After thousands of prayers, had the Divine answered him?
The only way for him to know was to test himself with the gift in his control: air.
Kailas glanced at the door, making extra sure no one could see what he was about to do.
As his mother had done with the ball so many years ago, he closed the book and rested it flat in his hand.
With a deep inhale, he focused on the air beneath the book and willed it to form a current toward the ceiling.
At first, nothing happened. Relief lifted from Kailas like the weight of brick from paper. But then, as he exhaled, the book rose from his hand and wavered in the air.
His biggest fear had come true. Eight years of praying had done him no good.
Magic still flowed in his veins.
Zarah
Zarah waited at the end of the tunnel leading from the castle until dark. Thankfully, there was still enough oil in the lantern to get her through the long pathway. Although she had a plan to find the man who saved her, she had no idea how to execute that plan.
Her number one priority was not to get caught.
Usually when she snuck away from the castle at night, she wore plain clothing. Now, her black lace dress screamed that she wasn't a commoner.
The last thing she needed was to stand out. Would Marius send guards through the streets looking for her? She remembered the rage in his eyes and had her answer. He would do everything in his power to find her, which meant she needed to be careful.
But since going back to her room to change her clothing wasn’t an option, she’d had few choices.
Zarah glanced at the books she’d forced herself to bring, now sitting on the ground next to the ladder. They were too heavy to lug around with her, and carrying a handful of books on magic wasn’t exactly the best method not to draw herself unneeded attention.
With a sigh, she left them there and climbed the iron ladder she’d ascended so many times before and peeked out the round door leading to the road above. The world was dark. How many hours had she been sitting there in the musty tunnel? Maybe waiting so long had been a mistake. During the day, the townsfolk filled the streets, but now the road was empty. Which meant she'd stand out like a fire in an open field if the city guard saw her.
Before fear could paralyze her, leaving her in the tunnel to starve, Zarah pushed the door open and climbed into the street. The thick material of her dress was much he
avier than the usual commoner clothing she wore when sneaking out at night.
She put the door back over the ladder and hurried out of the middle of the road, her skirt dragging against the dirt. She could only imagine how filthy her dress was now.
Instinct guided her as she walked the familiar path to the tavern. She didn't know the city well, and right now the last thing she wanted was to get lost.
Zarah felt too exposed in the empty street. If the guards were looking for her, she’d be easy to spot.
When she arrived at the tavern, she hesitated. What if someone recognized her? With no other option, she inhaled, and went inside. Keeping her gaze forward, she walked straight to her usual spot at the bar.
“Is everything all right, M’lady?” The barmaid approached her from the other side of the room.
When Zarah turned toward the woman, the bar maid’s eyes widened with recognition.
“I lied before,” Zarah said nervously. “I am a lady and the guards will be looking for me.” Confessing could prove a mistake, but she had no one to ask for help. Sitting there in the open wasn’t safe.
The woman scanned the room. “Come with me.” She left the bar and headed to a set of stairs at the side of the room.
Zarah didn't ask any questions as she followed the woman.
At the top of the stairs the barmaid grabbed a ring of keys. “You will be safe up here.”
They continued down a long hallway to the fourth door on the right and entered a small room. A bed was pressed against the far wall with a deep green comforter atop it. The barmaid crossed the room and turned on a lantern on the bedside table.
“Thank you,” Zarah said, turning toward the barmaid. “I…”
She covered Zarah’s mouth with her hand. “The less I know the better. You stay here and I will bring you food soon. Don’t leave the room. There are guards being occupied on this floor right now.”
“With prostitutes?” Zarah’s voice lifted at the end of the question.
The woman laughed. “Yes, the city guards are some of our biggest customers.” She backed toward the door. “Now, be quiet, and I’ll be back with some soup as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” Zarah said.
The woman was risking herself to protect Zarah with no idea who she actually was or why she was hiding from the guards. It was a kindness Zarah wasn’t sure how she would repay. Before, she could have sent a servant to the tavern with a bag of coin in thanks, but she’d been forced to leave the castle so suddenly, she had nothing but the clothes she was wearing. And if she thought she stood out too much in the lace dress, walking around naked would be a million times worse.
Time ticked slower than ever as she explored the room. On her visits to the tavern, she’d wondered many times what the second floor was like. The women she assumed were prostitutes would run their hands along the male patrons’ arms then lock their hands together and guide them up the same set of stairs Zarah had taken to get there. Were the other rooms like this one?
Everything seemed to have its place. A thick, burgundy cover rested on the bottom of the green comforter, a wool rug sat on the floor in front of a rocking chair, and a large, wooden wardrobe lined the wall parallel to the door. There were no knick-knacks scattered about, and no art covering the stone walls.
What a difference to Zarah’s room in the palace. She’d never visited a home outside of the castle before. Not that this was really a home. It was a tavern and inn, and one that would have her mother blushing a deep shade of red if she were in Zarah’s position.
A book of parchment sat on the nightstand. Since there was nothing else to occupy her, Zarah picked it up. Instead of a novel like she was expecting, when she opened to a random page, she realized it was a journal.
What sort of thoughts did the barmaid have? Did she lust after the men who visited the inn for a taste of a prostitute? Did she despise them? Perhaps she had been a whore herself at one time.
Zarah had found secret novels in the castle’s basement library. Ones where prostitutes fell in love with soldiers or princes. They weren’t true stories, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the woman had fantasies like the ones she’d read.
As much as temptation pulled at her, Zarah closed the book and returned it to its spot on the nightstand. The woman had been gracious to bring her here. Repaying her by reading her most private thoughts would be horrible.
Since there was nothing else to occupy her, Zarah braved a glance out the window. Stars shined above in the cloudless sky. The moon was nearly full and glowed down on the city like a floating orb. From what she could see, no soldiers were walking the streets, looking for her. At least not in this part of town.
With no one else knowing of the passage way, it was unlikely Marius and his guards would think Zarah was anywhere near the inn. Did they think she was still hiding somewhere in the castle? What if they thought Aerilyn knew where she was? If that bastard laid a hand on her sister, Zarah would burn more than his face.
Remembering the scar she’d seared into his cheek reminded her of the strange events. How she had managed to do such a thing was a mystery. It hadn’t been on purpose. Was it something she could do again if needed?
Zarah sat on the edge of the rocking chair and rolled up her right sleeve. She then extended her arm with her palm facing the ceiling and focused on the heat she’d felt earlier. Something warmed her palm, but there was no sign of fire. Within five seconds, her skin cooled.
When she tried again, absolutely nothing happened.
If she hadn’t seen the seared flesh, she might think it had all been part of her imagination. Or perhaps some trick Marius played to have her punished. But there was no mistaking the burn mark in the shape of her hand as real.
So, how had she done it?
Magic was the only explanation that made any sense, but it was an impossible thought. If she’d used magic to burn him, where had her power gone?
What felt like hours later, the woman returned with a tray of food, setting it down and leaving without a word.
Zarah’s stomach grumbled at the smell of the soup. She hadn’t eaten since the morning, and even then it was only a lite breakfast.
The first taste was hot and burned her tongue. “Goddess above.” She waved her hand in front of her mouth to cool the pain. Her mother would always scold her for using the word Goddess as if it would somehow cause the Divine to strike her down, but Zarah had read about the gods and goddesses of other religions, and always liked the idea of a female deity watching her from above.
After waiting a few minutes for her food to cool, she tried again. This time the soup was a pleasant temperature, which was the only good thing she could say about it. It was somehow flavorless except for the strong saltiness it bore.
She finished half the bowl before she could no longer handle the saliferous taste. She was nowhere near full, but it had done enough to quiet her stomach.
Life in the castle had provided all the luxuries most Lyrians could have only ever dreamed of. Servants to cook, clean, and care for her. The finest clothing, made from luxurious wools, linens, and silks. Parties thrown in her honor. But it cost her the thing she most valued: her freedom. Her choices weren’t hers to make. As a princess, certain duties were placed upon her from birth. How to dress. How to act. Who to marry.
But now, everything had changed.
As she moved the tray to the dresser, a surge of heat exploded in her torso. At first, she wondered if she’d been poisoned. But with a few deep breaths, she realized the feeling rested deep in her core. It wasn’t painful. Quite the opposite.
Something about the sensation called to her.
She shut her eyes and focused on the sudden awareness she had. Behind her closed lids, the face from her hero the night before appeared. His bright green irises. His angled jaw. The warmth in his touch.
Zarah wasn’t sure how she knew it, but somehow, she was certain that he was close.
Taariq
Well, thi
ngs hadn’t gone anything like Taariq had hoped.
He’d managed to steal five silver coins from a bread stand in the center market of the city, a place he rarely ventured because it was always loaded with city guards.
But desperate times called for risky measures, and with the market being one of the busiest places in all of the kingdom, it provided plenty of distraction, which he especially needed now that a guard had seen him use magic. One small fire in a pail of a neighboring stand, and the bread seller rushed over to help, giving Taariq just enough time to take a few coins.
He could have cleaned the poor man out, but Taariq had some morals. And if the day had gone as he’d hoped, he even planned to return what he’d take.
But it had not.
It had gone remarkably worse.
He had taken the stolen coins to the gambling pub near the market he frequented, and for a while, things seemed promising. He’d quadrupled his initial money and was over halfway to having enough for rent when the tide shifted and he lost nearly all of it.
Of all the days to be fucking unlucky.
He’d hoped to earn enough to pay Viktor then lie low for at least a week, giving the guard time to look and fail to find him. But he promised to pay the landlord by the end of the week, so tomorrow he would have to try again.
The moon shined high in the sky, as he walked down the empty streets, rolling the one silver piece he had left in his hands. It was a quiet night, and he found himself lost in thought. Today hadn’t turned out as he’d wanted, but there was still tomorrow. He could try another market stand this time. He’d make sure to win enough to pay his rent and return the coin he’d borrowed to both merchants.
When he stole from rich fuckers, he didn’t feel too bad. He doubted they ever noticed. But a small market stand owner was another story, and he always did what he could to return what he took from them.
