“Whoa!” Oliver’s startled exclamation barely made it through the roar of the unnatural fire. For a moment it swirled around the stone, singeing the grass beside it, and then it winked out as quickly as it had appeared.
I stood, panting, my hands falling slowly back to my sides.
“Well, that seemed to work. What did you do?” Oliver’s voice approached me from behind, but I shook my head and gestured for him to stay back. I needed space to think, and I didn’t want to end up hurting him by accident.
I walked toward the boulder and touched it. I could feel searing heat, but when I pulled my fingers away they remained unburned. Interesting. But that fire inside had felt as if it would burn me when I tried to keep it in.
I closed my eyes and conjured the same emotions, focusing this time on the fear that I might suffer the same fate as the Eldonians. The warmth inside, which had disappeared when it transferred through my fingertips, returned—faster this time and stronger.
I gripped my hands into fists again, once more holding it inside. But this time I worked, not on containing it, but on calming it. I reminded myself that I was strong. That I could fight. That I wouldn’t let anyone strip my true self away.
Instead of burning stronger and hotter, it began to fade, growing weaker until it was a mere warmth curling around my belly. I opened my eyes and glanced around. A tall group of trees stood some distance from me. I looked at them contemplatively.
Could I use this gentle warmth, or did I need to burn myself to be effective? Whipping my hands up from my sides, I thrust my flat palms toward the trees. At the same moment, I willed the gentle warmth back into a raging inferno.
It didn’t quite obey me, but it did leap into greater life, and a hot wind rushed from my hands to shake the ancient trunks. It wasn’t exactly a gale, but it had been more than a breeze.
I turned to Oliver with a triumphant smile on my lips.
He gazed at me blankly. “Well. That was fast.”
“What can I say? You’re an excellent teacher.”
He looked at me skeptically, still in shock apparently, and I spun around, the giddy smile still on my lips. I barely restrained myself from pumping the air with my fists. I did it. Now just let this enchantment come for me. It didn’t know who it was dealing with.
“So it looks like fingertips are flames and palms are hot air?” Oliver seemed to have recovered from his shock. He squinted his eyes as he glanced around the meadow, as if considering which bit he would most willingly sacrifice. “I wonder how big you could get the flames?”
I rolled my eyes. “Typical male. I’m more interested in how controlled I can get it.”
“Yes, I suppose that might be more useful.” He looked a little deflated, and I barely refrained from rolling my eyes again. All three of my brothers—even the calm, sensible ones—would have been the same. If it had been up to them, the whole meadow would have been gone in some kind of flash forest fire.
“In that case,” said Oliver. “Can you do the little flames on your fingers thing? Like you did in the tunnel? It didn’t seem to burn you…” He waited for my nod of agreement. “So, I wonder how long you could keep it up for.”
I frowned and bit my lip. Sustained power. That wasn’t something I had managed yet. I wanted to be allowed to bask in my success for a moment longer, but curiosity soon overwhelmed me. Could I do it?
I pushed up both sleeves. Neither the wind nor the fire seemed to harm me, but the wind had whipped my skirts around in the past, and I didn’t want to end up with a burning dress.
Holding my hands extended in front of me, I kept them initially balled into fists. I thought back to waking Giselle in the display room. I suspected that I needed a more gentle emotion for a smaller, sustained use of my power.
Unfortunately, gentle wasn’t really my thing.
My mind flitted over Emmeline and the others I had met at the palace and then traveled back to the woods. I recalled Cassandra’s tight grip around my waist, and the lurking desperation at the back of her eyes. She exuded confidence, but she was still only thirteen.
Compassion and sadness gripped me, along with a determination not to let her down. This time the sensation inside me was more like hot coals than a live flame. I directed it down my arms as I slowly unfurled my fingers, aiming them all upward in bent claws.
A flicker of light on one finger was followed by another, and then all ten burst suddenly into flame. I stumbled back, and they instantly went out.
“Try again,” said Oliver, his voice encouraging, but I barely heard him. My focus had returned inward.
The coals were still there, banked, not extinguished, and I quickly brought them back to stronger heat. This time, when the flames appeared, I held steady, ready for it. The tongues flickered a little and then settled, burning brightly.
I looked up at Oliver and found him inching closer to me, clearly fascinated.
“It really doesn’t hurt you at all?”
I shook my head.
“Does it even feel hot?”
I considered my answer. “Yes—and no. I can feel that the heat is there, but it isn’t unpleasant like it normally would be. It doesn’t burn me.”
Before I could stop him, he reached out a hand and stuck his fingers into the flames sprouting from my closest hand. I gasped and jumped backward, the fire going out at the same moment as he exclaimed and stuck his fingers into his mouth.
“Ouch! That burned.”
“Of course it burned! Idiot! It’s fire.”
“Well, it wasn’t burning you. I was curious.”
“Of course you were,” I muttered, holding out my hands in a demand that he show me his fingers.
Reluctantly he pulled them out of his mouth and laid them in my open palms. I examined them, conscious of the strength in his hands and the calluses that told me he spent a lot of time training with various weapons. At least they didn’t look seriously burned.
“Do not try that again,” I told him firmly, releasing his hands abruptly when I felt a coil of now familiar warmth in my chest.
“I won’t.” He grinned at me, unrepentant. “I’ve learned my lesson, I promise.”
I narrowed my eyes at him but then turned away, my mind already elsewhere. The warmth I now felt burned quietly, under control—or so it seemed. How long could I keep it burning there without letting it out? And how much attention did I need to give it to keep it from extinguishing?
Glancing speculatively back at Oliver, I picked up my skirts and fled across the grass. “Catch me if you can,” I called back over my shoulder. If this was going to be a true test, I needed to be distracted by something else while I tried to keep it burning.
After a surprised pause, Oliver took off after me. His longer stride meant he was soon closing the distance, so I aimed for some trees, weaving in and out of their trunks. With a sudden spurt, I twisted out of his sight behind a particularly dense group of trunks and ducked off to the side, crouching behind a large boulder.
I tried to still my breathing, pressing a hand against my chest. Yes, the warmth still burned, but faintly. It was going out. I coaxed it back to life, careful not to allow it to grow too strong.
The effort distracted me, so that I startled and shrieked when Oliver jumped around the boulder. Briefly the coals inside burst into open flames, but I clamped down on them hard, ducking under his arm and taking off running again.
With a playful growl he raced close behind me, and I threw myself forward, going as fast as I possibly could. It felt good to stretch my legs and run without purpose after all the worrying.
Still, he was catching me when my foot caught on a small stone hidden in the grass, and I tipped forward. Oliver lunged after me, trying to catch me, but instead we both went down, rolling over before landing flat in the grass.
It took a moment for me to catch my breath, and then I was laughing. My uncontrollable giggles went on and on, as my overburdened emotions finally found an outlet.
Ol
iver’s deeper chuckle sounded in my ear, and then I suddenly realized that we had fallen almost on top of each other, my skirts tangled in his legs. His chuckles softened, and he pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down into my eyes. I thought he would speak, but instead he swayed down toward me, until our faces felt far too close. He paused there, his eyes asking me a question. But he didn’t speak, the moment drawing out between us so taut as to be almost painful.
I realized he was staying true to his earlier word—the question needed to come from me, not him. But I found I had no breath—and no idea what I wanted to say. I had never seen the blue fire in his eyes burn so strongly, and suddenly the coals that had been simmering inside me all this time leaped in response. The unleashed inferno felt as if it would melt my insides like wax.
Gasping, I rolled away from him and thrust my hands blindly out to my side. My hands were neither flat, nor pointed, and the wind that leaped from my hands and rushed across the meadow carried actual tongues of flames with it. It hit the trees on the far side with enough force to bend them sideways, the fire dancing around them, but thankfully not actually catching alight.
I breathed a sigh of relief just as a piercing scream echoed across the open space.
Chapter 12
Both Oliver and I scrambled to our feet and took off running in the direction of the sound. Dread filled my stomach. If someone had been over there, they would have received the brunt of both my wind and fire.
A short figure stumbled out of the cover of the trees, and my relieved brain noted that she didn’t appear to have any burns. A moment later I realized I recognized her.
Giselle.
Oliver reached her first, gripping her by the shoulders and inspecting her for injury. When he started berating her, I breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t be doing that if she was hurt.
“What did you think you were doing?” he demanded. His voice sounded stern, but she looked entirely undaunted.
“I was spying on you, of course. What do you think I was doing?”
Even I raised an eyebrow, impressed at her pluck. I could see why Oliver had said he wished I could meet her. She reminded me of my younger self.
“You could have been injured—badly!” Oliver now sounded more resigned than angry.
Giselle ignored him completely, her attention turned to me. “You told me you had power to release people from the enchantment. Not that you could shoot fire from your hands.”
I shrugged. “I’m still working on that part. That’s why we’re out here.”
“Well, it looked pretty impressive. I want to see it closer up.”
I looked over at Oliver, and he shrugged helplessly.
“All right,” I said. “But no more hiding. I don’t want to singe your hair off.”
“No, indeed.” She patted her pale blond locks.
I eyed them. “Although it might be worth it, just to see if it would get a reaction from Emmeline.”
She gasped and clutched at her hair. “You wouldn’t!”
“Relax, sis,” said Oliver. “She’s teasing you.”
Giselle glared at me before moving a few feet away. “Well, come on then. Let’s see these impressive powers.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
The fear from when I heard her scream remained close enough to the surface that I easily whipped my internal heat to a raging bonfire. When it began to grow uncomfortable, I swung my hands in front of me, clapping them together, and pointing all of my fingers toward a rock at the base of the trees.
A column of fire roared from my clenched fingers, a rush of air moving with it, and slammed into the stone. The rock exploded from the pressure, spraying shards of stone in all directions. We all flinched, raising our arms to protect our faces.
When the fire had died out and the rock fragments had all hit the ground, I slowly lowered my arms.
“Did I mention I’m still working on it?”
“Wow.” Giselle’s eyes glowed. “That. Was. Amazing.”
She would have happily kept me out there doing tricks for hours, but after a glance at the sky—and another one at his sister—Oliver declared it time to return to the palace. Giselle looked disappointed but didn’t protest—so not entirely like me at her age, after all.
Together we trekked back in near silence. What had happened in that meadow wasn’t something any of us felt like discussing where someone else might overhear us. Even if we were surrounded by people who seemed unmoved by anything.
We had made it most of the way back when we passed a particularly deep drift of snow pushed between two building fronts. I shivered at the sight, but a moment’s reflection made me realize I didn’t actually feel cold. Instead a pleasant warmth had settled inside me, too low to be particularly noticeable until I actively thought about it.
So my experiment with the running had been a success. I had managed to kindle an internal fire that could last through distractions. But when I remembered how the memory had ended, I frowned. It made me feel both safer and warmer—a not insignificant side-effect—to have the heat always burning. But I would have to be more careful of unexpected flare ups. I didn’t want to end up blasting a hole through the palace wall or setting someone on fire just because I was startled.
Days passed and became weeks. At first the inactivity suited me fine. I returned many more times to the meadow with Oliver to further refine my skills. Giselle always accompanied us, not bothering to ask permission, just appearing at some point during our walk through the city. Oliver tried to send her back the first time, but she merely shrugged and silently continued toward the meadow, drawing ahead of us.
Eventually he had sighed, and we had accepted her presence. She often turned up whenever we were together after that, and I grew used to it. I even told myself it was a good thing that I was rarely alone with Oliver now. I didn’t want to lose control again.
Oliver had done his best to launch an investigation into the cave in, but none of us were surprised to discover that no one remembered seeing or hearing anything suspicious. And since we were all in agreement that it would be best not to advertise my new powers, he couldn’t even be too specific with anyone about exactly what had happened. Not when we had no explanation for our escape.
But it wasn’t worth letting word about my gift spread. With an unknown enemy wreaking havoc on the kingdom, it felt good to have one advantage they knew nothing about.
As weeks passed, however, the three of us grew more and more concerned. Instead of warming up as we approached closer to summer, the air was growing colder and the snowfalls more frequent. Snowdrifts began to appear in the meadow, and eventually the day came when we couldn’t make it across the path to reach it at all.
Any idea that this unseasonal change might cause concern to the locals had long since faded. The three of us drew closer together—an island in the midst of a sea of cold and passive faces. Even regular conversation seemed an effort for most of them now. And attempts to express our concern were met only with blank expressions and shrugs.
While Oliver did his best to keep the administration of the kingdom functioning in the face of his parents’ increasing disinterest, Giselle and I had taken to roaming the palace, searching for something—anything—that might help us. I preferred lobbing fireballs to spending hours on musty old record books, but we spent part of every day in the library. We could find no account of any previous encroachment of winter to rival this one, however.
We also poked through every bit of the palace, unwilling to overlook anything that might help us understand what was happening to Eldon. I often found myself back in the room of treasures—as I had mentally dubbed it—wishing one of the objects displayed there still held power.
Sometimes I also found myself lingering in front of the old portrait in the corridor, wondering what object was missing from beside it. Giselle told me that display had always stood empty, so I knew it was a foolish thought. But still I found myself there.
So when we ended up i
n the long portrait gallery one afternoon, I easily recognized the same woman in another painting displayed among the many past royals. Once again she wore a similar blue velvet to the material that decorated the palace, but she looked older in this portrait. Still determined but a little more careworn.
Giselle noticed my interest and came to stand beside me.
“It’s the same woman,” I said. “Who was she, do you know?”
“She’s one of the previous queens.” Giselle paused. “My great-great-grandmother? Or maybe it’s just one great. I get confused about the order of them all.”
“Why is her portrait out in the corridor? Was she special?”
Giselle scrunched up her face, thinking. “Depends what you consider special, I suppose. She lived back before our kingdoms turned away from the High King and the old laws. Before the godmothers turned away from us in turn. She had a godmother, I believe, although she was only a servant originally. And she and the crown prince fell in love and were married. It was all terribly romantic, I suppose.” Giselle didn’t seem particularly impressed.
“She sounds like Lily and Sophie’s mother. She was a servant—sort of—before she married the prince.”
“Maybe it’s because she was a servant that she found the palace cold and unpleasant,” said Giselle. “At least, that’s what I remember mother telling me. She apparently redecorated the whole thing.” She gave a wry smile. “I guess when you’re responsible for decoration you get to put your portrait wherever you want.”
“I wonder what was supposed to stand beside it.”
Giselle shrugged. “You should ask Oliver, maybe he knows. As crown prince he spent much more time than Emmeline and me learning all about the family history and the previous kings and queens.”
From her scrunched nose, I deduced that she didn’t envy him the role. I let the conversation drop, although my curiosity about the servant-girl-turned-queen had only increased.
Moving down the line of portraits, I stopped in front of a particularly grand and imposing one. It portrayed a tall king, standing alone, his hand upon the hilt of his sword and his brow stern as he gazed into the distance.
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