by D. H. Dawson
I open my mouth as I hear the second rider tossed off his horse behind me. The human, whoever he is, doesn’t wait for an answer. He runs to me, holds out his hand, and I take it. I stare around as he leads me away. Two Knights are gone. I halt as something enters my mind. The human falters and skids.
‘Your Highness? What is it?’
I fade out of this world, into a vision, just like from my dream. I see smoke and fires, shadows around a throne, and a tall figure in its seat. My palms warm and become clammy—from nerves, fear?—my grip on my blade falters as I feel my body sway. I can’t see my home or the grounds anymore. All I see is fire. Anger and fear war within me, though I don’t know why I would be angry. At the Knights for their attack, for harming my people?
Someone shakes my shoulders. ‘Princess, please, come back.’ The human shakes me and I find myself staring at his eyes, dark and blue, like deep waters. ‘Forgive me, Princess, but I must get you to safety. Why aren’t you with the guards, your family?’
I’ve planted my feet without realising. He wants to protect me, but he won’t yank me forward. I notice his shoulder, bleeding badly. ‘Who are you?’
I realise he’s holding my hand, trying to coax me out of the middle of the field. ‘My name is Cristian, Your Highness, but please, we must move.’
‘You’re only human, but you’re fighting?’ I wince. He casts his eyes down as I say ‘only’. What a mean thing to say, Carmen.
He lets go of my hand and steps back. ‘Please, Your Highness.’ He looks at the ground, away from me, and up to the other end of the field. The Royal Guard have escorted my family inside. I can see my mother’s pale, worried face by the window upstairs. I’m an idiot, calling him a human like that. I look around to watch Matthew and Ares taking out another Knight. This human, Cristian, is as brave as any witch. And more vulnerable, too. So, more so.
‘Cristian?’ I hope he will meet my gaze.
His eyes are on the ground. Oh, good, not only are people scared to look at me, call them out on their species, that will help. Damn it. I shouldn’t, but I reach out and put a hand on his forearm. He starts, then looks at me. ‘You’re very brave for fighting. I’m sorry if I offended you.’
A smile tugs the edge of his lips. ‘Princess, you are the one who charged out here to fight. A royal.’ His eyes widen, as if he couldn’t comprehend that I would want to protect my people. ‘Please?’ He reaches out for my hand one last time, but before I can move, Ares is by my side.
‘What are you still doing out here?’ Ares’s voice is sharp, and I turn to blink at him, to reprimand him for speaking to me this way, but his eyes are hard. He’s not trying to be rude, he’s worried. About me. He leads me forward, a gentle, guiding hand on my back. I see Cristian’s eyes dart down again and he moves out of the way and does not follow.
Chapter Three
Carmen
Part of me wishes I were still young enough to reach out and take Patrick’s hand for support. I’m shaking as he leads me up the stairs, escorted by other guards, toward the safety of the castle and my family. Knights of the Underworld attacked and have wreaked havoc on my people. And I keep Seeing fire. Fire is an Underworld power. Evil.
What is wrong with me? I clench my fists—I don’t remember when, but someone reclaimed the sword I had borrowed—and start as I glance down at my dress. Patrick turns and glances at me, brow raised. ‘Everything alright, Your Highness?’
I smooth my features. ‘Of course.’ I watch carefully as he gives me an appraising glance, then turns and continues down the hall. My heart thuds. I look at my dress, to where my hands fall. There is a slight scorch mark, a burn.
There had been no fires in the village. No Knight wielded fire that I saw. It was me.
If someone doesn’t take this corset off me, I might pass out. There is something seriously wrong with me. How could I, a witch, have fire power? That makes no sense. As the guard leads me to my parents’ chamber, he knocks, and I slide inside.
Mother crushes me to her. ‘Oh, thank Gaia you’re alright. Carmen, what were you thinking, going out into the fray? Look at you, you’re shaking and sweaty, oh, darling.’ Mother leads me to a plush couch to sit down, but I pause.
‘I can’t sit in this thing,’ I snap—very unprincess-like.
Mother blinks and waves for Irene, who had apparently been lurking in the room without my noticing. ‘Get this off her.’
Irene unties the strings and pulls the thing off me and finally I can take a deep breath. Father stands, statue-still, staring out the window, face hard and grim.
Gilah sits on a couch opposite me. She looks at me with kindness, but confusion at my actions. Tiberius and Hara are quiet beside her.
‘What do you think you were doing?’ Father thunders.
Even Mother flinches.
‘How dare you break away from us to go out and—do what, get killed in the fray by the Knights?’ Father storms over to me, and if I were a woman of less control, I would take a step back. A princess does not shy away.
I turn my gaze up to his, feeling the world better for being able to breathe. ‘We are witches,’ I say, my voice low. One doesn’t need to shout to be heard. ‘We are the monarchy. We are supposed to protect our people. I watched you all cower and hide behind guards. I was crowned today, and I decided to do different. I will not hide. I will not let my people suffer.’
‘How dare you—’
‘Look.’ Mother waves us over to the window. She’s pale, frightened and worried, no doubt, but when we all gather, she exhales in relief. ‘Look at the people.’
Hundreds of citizens gather near the base of our window, looking up, as night begins to fall. They light candles. They call for me.
‘They are proud of her.’ Mother strokes my cheek. ‘Their princess.’ She looks at my hair, crinkles fanning from her eyes. She starts taking out the pins, and finally, when my hair falls, long and black down my shoulders, Mother smiles. ‘The Princess Who Fought for Them.’
In that moment, I know I did the right thing. It was Matthew and Ares and I’m sure loads of other people who really did the work, but I’m glad I didn’t hide. Though, judging by Father’s expression, you’d think I’d set the sacred Tree of Life on fire.
I reach out and touch the window. ‘The myth is true, then.’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Mother puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘We haven’t had a breach in a while. I thought they would have stopped loitering at the edge.’
‘Not that.’ I glance over at my little brother. Hara’s eyes are closed, her head resting on Gilah’s lap. ‘I mean about Gaia Wood. My sword did nothing. I struck a Knight a mortal blow to no end.’
Father raises an annoyingly judgemental eyebrow at me.
‘If you don’t believe me, ask the son of the War Commander. He was with me, he saw. But there was no blood or outcry. They are our dark siblings. As we witches were created, so were the Knights. Like us, only Gaia Wood can hurt them?’
‘Indeed,’ Mother says. ‘That boy, though. I haven’t seen a Spirit witch with an animal affinity in a long time. He is strong. Do you know him?’
‘He’s the library assistant. He helps me find books sometimes.’
Father scoffs. ‘Don’t let her match with someone like that. Even if he does show potential.’
Mother rolls her eyes at the King. Probably one of the only people who could get away with that. Maybe Hara, too. ‘Come, Gordon, we need her to have a powerful match to sustain the boundary.’
Father sighs. ‘Speaking of which, we must reinforce it.’ He looks at me levelly. ‘Carmen. I—I am proud of you, your heart was in a good place. There’s little more important than protecting our people, but one thing that is, is protecting you. You will not do that again. You will begin your training to take the throne, not to take out Knights.’
I try not to pout. I remember Cristian’s face as he asked me what I was doing out there. Why I, a princess, wo
uld be fighting. I saw the fear in his eyes when I put him in his place—accidentally—by calling him only a human. He was shocked that I would help. I peer out the window, at my people, still calling my name in love and reverence. I will train, but not for the reasons my father has said. I will train so that I can fight with my people.
I join my family at the edges of the grounds, finally out of that gold dress and back in a normal gown. I hold my mother and Gilah’s hands as we stand, connected, by the very edge of the boundary. As we touch, we tap into each other’s power. Father chants the words, and the bubble glows, stronger than before, and I feel much of my energy leave me with my magic as it’s poured into the boundary. I will regenerate it in time.
‘I hear you’ve accepted Ares as your strategy instructor,’ Mother says quietly beside me. She loops her arm with mine, as though we’re two gossiping ladies of the court. I would normally talk to them about this, but I haven’t had a chance. Isabella would love to talk about Ares.
As we make our way back to the castle for supper, I smile up at her. ‘If you think he’s suitable?’
Mother nods. ‘I do. I think he’s the most suitable we could find for you. I watched him stay by your side as the battle broke out. He is loyal. Protective.’
I remember the way Ares spoke to me sharply on the field, as though barking orders to soldiers. I know he was just trying to get me to safety, but it still bothers me a little. I don’t really know what to say to Mother.
‘You still need two more instructors,’ Mother says. ‘May I make a suggestion on one?’
‘Of course.’
‘That Spirit witch boy. Now that you mentioned who he is, he is familiar. I’ve had occasional dealings with him. He’s smart, polite. Respectful. What was his name, again?’
‘Matthew.’ I can’t quite explain it, but as I say his name, I hope that he survived the battle and is okay. I hadn’t often thought about him before today, but he flits into my mind again and again.
‘He would be a good magic instructor for you. Even if you don’t have an animal affinity, I’m sure he could teach you well. What do you think?’
Matthew, as much as any guy I know, is familiar and has always been kind. ‘Two down, one to go.’ The events of the day begin to press into me. I watch the castle’s occupants bustle about. Women dressed in white from head to toe are the healers of our realm, and they snap at their servants, running back and forth with patients and supplies, tending to the wounded. As my eyes follow their movement, Mother pats my shoulder.
‘There were losses, but not a great many. I see worry in your eyes, for our people. That’s a good quality in a princess.’
‘I wish there had been no losses.’ My stomach squirms as I catch a man with a severe stomach wound, blood coursing onto the ground beneath him. ‘I think I will go around the castle for some fresh air. I will meet you at supper.’
Mother looks at me warily.
‘We just reinforced the boundary. I’m safe, don’t fear.’
Mother raises her head, and four guards march over. ‘Take them with you. After today, I have a right be a little worried.’
The guards look at me, bow to Mother, and form their positions behind me. There’s no point arguing, and if I’m being honest, I don’t mind the protection after the day I’ve had.
It feels wrong to turn my back on the suffering and the wounded, but there’s nothing I could do for them that proper, trained healers can’t. I hear the guards’ quiet footfalls behind me. As I pass, it’s not unusual for people to stare, but now their glances feel different. There’s not a weight to it that makes me uncomfortable. They smile, nod, bow. I don’t see the familiar hate or resentment. They’re genuinely glad to see me. I wonder how long that will last.
As I make my way past, through the longer, open corridors, someone nearly bumps into me. The guards bark at them, but I raise a hand as deep blue eyes meet mine. ‘Cristian.’ It’s on the tip of my tongue, What are you doing here, roaming the castle, nearly knocking into me? But as I watch him stagger, his eyes flutter close, his hand goes to his injured shoulder. ‘Help him.’
One of the guards catches him up. ‘He’s injured, Your Highness.’
Cristian gasps and tries to shove away the guard. ‘Get off me. Let me go. I didn’t do anything.’ His voice is low and angry.
The guard sets him down on a bench, and I sit with him. ‘He was only helping you. You’re hurt. You should go to the healers—’
‘They won’t help me.’
I blink. I’m not used to being interrupted. I watch Cristian scowl, realising what he did. ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs. ‘It’s just that—my father owes them a lot of money. I’ve been in scrapes before, but they won’t help me now. Not until he pays what he owes.’
I frown. ‘Who is your father?’
‘He’s Julian Smith. A smithy. He’s good, but he, well, he gambles. Healers make good money, so he—’ Cristian breaks off and looks at me. ‘Why am I telling you this?’ He tries to get to his feet, flustered.
I tug the edge of his sleeve, pulling him back down. ‘Because your princess asked.’ I meet his gaze and I swear there’s fear in his eyes. I hate it. I hate that people fear me.
He reluctantly sits back down.
I turn to the nearest guard. ‘Give me a strip of cloth.’
The guard hesitates, then tears some fabric off his cloak and hands it to me. I take it and shuffle closer to Cristian. It stings when he backs away from me. My people don’t trust me. Especially the humans. I hold my hand out, willing him to see me differently, to give me a chance.
After a long pause, he shuffles closer and turns his head the other way to let me work. I have a little knowledge of healing. I wrap the cloth around his wound. He’s silent, biting back any cries or gasps, but I feel his shoulders tense beneath my touch. I’ve never touched a young man like this before. My fingers tremble a little, and I’m glad he can’t see. I tie the cloth off as carefully as I can. I’m glad to help him, but there’s something else I must do. I make a mental note to talk to the healers.
‘There you go.’ I lean back to give him a little space.
He looks down at his shoulder, then bows his head low. ‘Thank you. You’re very kind, Your Highness.’
Guilt tears at my insides. I’m supposed to go off to some fancy supper, and this boy has to go home, still wounded and in pain, to a father in debt.
Cristian glances at the guards nervously. ‘May—may I ask you a question?’
‘Yes.’
He keeps his gaze at the wooden bench between us. ‘Why were you in the field today? Why help me, now?’
I glance at the guards, knowing that what I’m about to do is inappropriate. I hope they will be silent about it. I reach out and touch Cristian’s hand. He flinches back, then returns his fingers to brush mine. ‘Are you surprised because I’m a princess, or a witch?’
Colour flushes his cheeks. ‘Both.’ Well, at least he’s honest.
One of the guards steps forward. ‘Do not insult your princess.’
I place my hands in my lap and glare at the guard. ‘Don’t speak out of turn,’ I snap. ‘I asked him a question and he answered. Mind your own tongue.’
The guard retreats.
Cristian’s eyes widen, staring at the guard. In that moment, I can see—a glimpse—of how hard this boy’s life is. I can see all the trouble he finds himself in, perhaps because of his candour. I open my mouth, to say what, I don’t know, but he’s on his feet, bowing low. He mutters my title, then takes off, as quickly as his wound allows.
I take a deep breath, frustrated, and stand. I move to the guard who had spoken out. ‘When I’m speaking to someone, do not interrupt again.’ I turn my back to him before he can answer. It’s time for supper, but I make a quick stop by the healer’s rooms first.
Sitting with my family, I look down the long, candlelit table toward Father. Mother sits beside him, Gilah beside her, and Tiberius
is next to Father, Hara on his right. I sit at the other end, the opposite head of the royal dinner table. This is new. I notice the freshly cut white flowers blooming on the table in a crystal vase, but my mind wanders.
‘Are you alright, Carmen?’ Mother asks. Her back is straight like the chair she sits in, ever the image of a perfect queen.
I would slouch, but my training won’t allow it. I tear the bread on my plate without eating it. Irene would glower. Someone would eat it, she would say. ‘I’m sorry. My thoughts are elsewhere.’
Where to begin? It’s been such a day. I was Crowned. I thought that would be stressful enough. As my mind races, my fists curl and a new habit forms—to keep my hands away from my flammable dress, lest I burn it, or myself. What is this strange, new power? Can I ask someone about it? It’s a known Underworld power, not a witch one. Have I done something wrong to have it? Has the Tree of Life somehow confused me with another? I bite my lip as these things make my heart thud. Certainly not supper talk.
‘Would you like to speak your thoughts?’ Father asks. It’s not often he asks that. I think, despite his outburst earlier, he really is proud of me today. ‘Are you worried about your final instructors? I have a thought on one of those.’
Who doesn’t? I glance at Mother as she clears her throat. ‘Actually,’ she says, ‘I do, too.’
Father smiles and gestures that she speak first.
‘The Spirit boy who fought today. Carmen knows his name. Matthew. I want him to be her magic instructor.’
The smile on the King’s face slides, but he doesn’t frown. He’s considering it.
‘Before you disagree, he is powerful,’ Mother says.
‘I suppose, but—’
Mother raises her hand. To the King. To silence him. ‘Not for a consort or a prince. Merely as an instructor, that’s all.’
I sit with my mouth slightly parted. Never has my future partner been spoken of so much as today. I’ve never given it a great deal of thought. Today, I still haven’t.
