by Jessica Daw
There was so much energy in me, as if the mythical wellspring was pumping out energy as fast as my heart was pumping blood. My wrists were on fire, the stupid wristbands trying to capture that much energy.
I didn’t see until it was too late, until the bands were already clanking to the floor, what had happened. I had broken free.
My hands were flaming. Like watching myself from very far away, I saw the flames turn into an enormous burst of fire, exploding into the room with force that reminded me of the last magical outburst I’d had before the wristbands that were supposed to make me safe, leaving me light-headed and dizzy from the energy the inferno took from me. For an eternal second I watched the flames furl outward, consuming billows of heat.
That thin second tried to consume me. I had failed, failed so utterly, so miserably. Espen was lost to me, August had turned against me, Father was at war, and no one would protect me after lighting my suitors and the Council on fire. My future, whatever had been left of it, was smoke and ashes.
I ran.
I heard cries behind me, of pain or indignation or anger I couldn’t tell, but I couldn’t stay and see, not when everything I’d ever worked for was burning. What would the fallout of this be? I couldn’t imagine it would be anything good. Those men were from all over Luspe, not just Vansland. They were powerful and I had done my best to infuriate them as personally as I could when they were strangers to me.
Run, run, run.
And my parents. How many years had I strained to my limits to please them? It had all come to naught. I could do nothing right, spoiling everything I touched. The Council should have locked me up, should have executed me, ten years ago, before I could make everything worse and worse and worse.
Run, run, run.
It seemed my insides had caught on fire, my heart and lungs and mind aflame with thoughts and feelings I couldn’t bear. My very essence felt as if it were melting away, and what was left behind? My bare wrists, raw and bone-white, seemed an unpleasant vision of my future.
I burst out of the palace, my ribs aching against my armor tightened like steel traps—I could feel the magic pulse as it forced me to stay in the Perfect Womanly Shape, a side benefit of the armor. My stupid slippers did nothing to help me run, flimsy as paper. I kicked them off and raced to the stable.
The servants let me pass them when I entered, knowing better by now than to try and stop me when I was in full flight. I threw Rune’s corral door open. My beautiful dark brown stallion greeted me by tossing his black mane and whinnying, reacting to my agitation. In that moment it felt like he was all I had left in the world. I leapt onto his back, ignoring my saddle, and we raced into the forest.
I rode Rune hard and fast, urging him to canter, fly at such a speed that my thoughts could not gather, hoping they would catch and tear in the wind, slipping away behind me like so much shredded fabric. It worked, almost, at least for a time. The rush of the November cold made my blood race, my cheeks feeling roughened by the sting of the wind, my wrists blindingly sensitive to every sensation. The trees overhead were mostly bare, and I imagined them as cracking whips as we disappeared further into the woods. Dry leaves swirled up under Rune’s thundering hoofs.
Here I did not have to remember all I had so suddenly lost.
My mind wouldn’t cooperate for long, unfortunately. It grasped those torn thoughts and worried them like a dog with a bone. I kept seeing my mother’s face, feeling the moment of lost control when the wildfire whooshed from my hands, remembering the stench of Shrewd Eyes’ breath. Why had he been first? Why couldn’t it have been someone pleasant, someone who wouldn’t leer at me like he wanted to roast me alive and consume me for dinner? Maybe none of them were that way.
I felt a twinge of regret for the last few. Had I even looked at them long enough to read their expressions, see if there was kindness or only greed there? Had I been just as unfair to them as they were to me? Perhaps they weren’t even aware of Espen’s death, though that seemed unlikely. It could be that they had no idea I’d loved him so much. Where would they have learned that from?
The twinge of regret turned to shame. Always, always shame. I swallowed it as best I could. It clawed in my throat, and I commanded Rune to stop. Father had trained Rune well before giving him to me, and he obeyed me immediately.
Standing so still in the forest, my thoughts were loud.
“Should have had second thoughts before calling some foreign prince a corpse,” I said aloud, voice flat. “What am I to do now, dear Rune?” I slid from his back, sharp rocks stinging my bare feet. It hadn’t been so long ago that my feet had been tough as rawhide from all the time I’d spend wandering the forests and fields barefoot. I’d tried so hard to be the elegant lady Espen would want to marry. Maybe one of those suitors would have liked wandering the forest.
I sighed. “I guess second thoughts come whether you like them or not.” Rune paid no attention to me, finding the clumps of grass buried beneath the dead leaves.
Father came into my mind. I couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out. He’d been so sure I would impress the Council, prove to them that I could be a good leader, a good queen, if only with a good king for my husband. Tears stung my eyes as I remembered his promise to come when the Council made that decision, nine months from now. What chance did nine months have of undoing what I’d just done?
“I’m sorry, Father,” I whispered, rubbing my wrists and sobbing when I recalled they were bare. I could use magic now, but I didn’t know how. I was useless. They would put the bands back on anyway, I was sure, as soon as I went back. I couldn’t go back. But where could I go? Barefoot, useless, stupid. There was nowhere for me to go except back
The sunlight was tilted nearly to the horizon. It wasn’t very late, but hours of sunlight were few at this time of year.
I sighed again. “We ought to return, oughtn’t we, Rune?” His ears twitched at the sound of his name, but he went on pulling up grass. “You’d think they don’t feed you enough,” I said, managing a ghost of a smile, patting his plump sides. “I need to take you out more. I’m sorry, friend.” My voice caught on the word sorry. “I’ll have to apologize, won’t I? That makes me feel ill. How can I make amends?”
Rune finally looked up, concern in his huge black eyes. A few tears fell down my cheeks.
“I don’t know how to do it. Not apologize, but that too. I don’t know how to be what they want me to be. I can apologize, but would I really do differently if I was given the chance to?” Not for the first time, I wished Rune could speak and advise me, pass on words of wisdom he’d learned from his first master.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks. No doubt I’d upset the cosmetics slathered on my face that morning—I was no more honest than Shrewd Eyes with his magic-masked face.
“We have to go back, don’t we?” Unsurprisingly, Rune didn’t reply. In one decisive movement, I swung back onto his back and turned him west back towards the palace. The setting sun cast bronze gilt over the forest, turning the light such a warm color that I finally realized how cold I was. The dress I wore was a winter dress, thick red velvet, but it was not enough to withstand a Vansen sunset in November. My stomach was clenched in on itself, hunger from neglecting all my meals that day adding to my discomfort. As if guilt and frustration and sorrow and anger and a sense of impending doom weren’t enough to make me feel like I’d rather be impaled than return home.
Rune trotted slowly, sharing my reluctance to return to confinement. I wanted to promise him I’d take him out more often, but the Council had had him taken away from me as a punishment before.
I wondered why no one had been sent after me. The small diamond engraved with a tracking spell was still embedded in the flesh of my arm, but I felt no indication that it was being used to discover my location. Usually when I ran away, if I was gone for more than an hour someone was sent to retrieve me, or at least someone was assigned to watch my location and make sure I did not wander too far.
I
stabled Rune without meeting anyone who wished to speak with me. My bare feet stung as I walked back to the palace. I looked for my slippers but to no avail, perhaps removed by a gardener. Thus it was bare-footed that I returned. I had no particular desire to meet anyone, but I was surprised that I didn’t, reaching my room without speaking a word. Dagmar, though, waited for me there.
Her broad face clearly stated that things were worse than I thought. “Oh, Helena. You’ve really done it this time, haven’t you?” Her tone wasn’t condemnatory, only disappointed. I figured that that would be a sentiment I would become very familiar with, more so than I already was.
“How bad is it?” I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I’d expected.
She shook her head and sighed, a real sigh, none of the dramatics Dagmar sometimes put on. “It was awful, dear. After you ran out. Luckily all the suitors had wards strong enough to protect them from that fireball you threw, but it singed some of their clothing and certainly didn’t help calm their tempers. A few of them wanted blood, if not yours, your country’s.”
I whimpered involuntarily. I had put my country in danger? With Father already gone, fighting. We couldn’t risk alienating anyone else.
“I don’t know what would have happened if August hadn’t been there.”
“August?” I repeated blankly. Why had August been there, and how could he have possibly intervened positively? Some of my anger began rising again, and a spark of terror made it worse as I felt magic building and had no idea what to do about it. “I need to siphon my magic,” I said urgently.
Dagmar didn’t hesitate, taking my hands and drawing my energy into herself with a few rapid words. “Better?”
I nodded, though my heart was still dancing. “I had no idea . . . how did that even happen?”
My faithful maid shrugged, her brow troubled. “I blame myself. I forgot to siphon your energy. I’m so sorry—I’m as grateful to August for my own selfish reasons as I am for you. Not that he got you out of trouble, I’m sorry to tell you, but saved you from banishment or worse.”
I groaned, sagging onto my bed, as much as I could in my stupid armor. It hadn’t done me any good. How could it? It couldn’t protect me from myself. “Of course the Council wanted to banish me.”
She sighed, sitting next to me. “That was what they began saying, after a few of the suitors’ suggestions. Then August came, don’t know where from. Explained you reacted as you did because you had only learned of Espen’s death, bless his soul, a week earlier. Tried to make them see you as human. He reminded them that you miss your father too, put them in mind of his service in the war.”
“So what did they decide?” I interrupted impatiently.
“Hush, my lady. Patience is a virtue you’re soon to become much better acquainted with. They determined that you will be sent away for a year, and until your return August will be the heir apparent. He was very gentlemanly about it, insisting that he wanted nothing more than to see you on the throne and only offered himself up because they would hear no reason. I had no idea August could speak so smoothly.”
“Neither did I,” I muttered, somehow feeling betrayed, though apparently he had saved my hide. Mother would not have spoken up, I knew that much, not after she’d dared to ask that the Council give me a choice.
“At the end of the year,” Dagmar continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “you’ll return and have a chance to prove yourself to the Council.”
“Where will I go?” I asked, my insides squirming, too hot and too cold.
“That remains to be decided. The Council is going to communicate with your father on the matter. In the meantime, you’re to return to the estate.”
I breathed out a shaky sigh. “And that’s it?” It felt like a letdown, somehow, though it was my whole future pulled out from under my feet like a great rug, whapping me down on stone-cold earth.
Dagmar nodded, her graying brown hair coming a bit loose, floating in wispy strands around her square face.
“Where’s Mother?
“With August and the Council.”
“Couldn’t she be troubled to inform me of my fate?”
“You’re beginning to sound bitter.”
“And if I am?” I snapped.
“Don’t you get in a miff about being left out, young lady. You’re the one who ran off to ride Rune to who knows where. It’s harsh, I know, dear, but what can you expect? Did you think you could personally insult so many powerful men in front of each other and then try to roast them alive and expect to come away with nothing more than a restriction of riding privileges?”
My face grew hotter and I couldn’t meet Dagmar’s eyes. “Did you see that old man the Council wished me to marry?” I asked, half muttering.
“I did. I also saw two or three handsome young bucks there, not that you paid them any mind, other than to insult their manliness and heritage.”
I covered my face, resting my elbows on my knees, and groaned. “But they all came to buy me with their titles and prestige—not to mention buy a title for themselves with the marriage bond.”
“What else can you expect them to do? They’ve been raised with the understanding that that’s how they’d find a wife.”
I lifted my head. “Do you think any of them knew Espen?”
“At least a few of them certainly did, if not all.”
“And yet came to steal away his intended bride!”
Dagmar grabbed my chin firmly, forcing me to look at her. “Dearest Lena, I am sorry and sad as the rest, but Espen is dead. He has no intended bride, nor do you have an intended husband. You must learn that. He is gone and you have to live.”
I yanked my chin from her hand, tears stinging my eyes. “How do you just shut out sadness? Decide that it’s over?”
She sighed. “Argue all you want, pet. Fight it all you want, but it will not change the consequences of how you’re living. As of now, you are not going to rule Vansland. You may be able to change that, but not if you keep wearing Espen’s death around you like a great protective cloak that you think hides you from the world. It only makes you weak.”
“Arrggh! Now I am weak?! Let me be, Dagmar, I have had enough company for today!” I buried my head in my arms, outraged and confused.
I heard Dagmar sigh again, then stand and leave.
Chapter Six
Lena
Two Weeks Later
I’d received a smoke letter from Espen for my sixteenth birthday. I remembered thinking it was disappointingly short.
My dear Helena,
I hope you are well. I want to congratulate you on reaching your sixteenth birthday—I’m sure you’ve become quite a woman. I trust you take Rune out and exercise him often, as he oughtn’t be left too long in the stable and you do ride better than most stable hands. I still recall your remarkable horse, you see.
Sikuvok is a lovely place, not at all the frozen wasteland it’s made out to be. Neither are the people the savages they’ve been made out to be—I believe you would find Princess Niviaq a wonderful companion for you, as she is close to your age, and quite refined. Even your cousin August approves of her, and you know how stern he is. Though I believe I have won him over as a friend, as he has asked me on multiple occasions to go hunting with him, which is an entirely different activity in Sikuvok than it is in Vansland, or anywhere else, for that matter.
Ever yours.
Sincerely,
Espen Kjeldsen
“Princess Niviaq is quite refined?” I’d repeated aloud when I’d first received it. I’d taken the letter with me on a ride with Rune, “Whom I exercise very frequently, obviously. And of course you remember him, he is the best horse in the world.” Rune had twitched his ears at my speech in the quiet forest but kept ambling on—I’d been too impatient to wait to read the letter until I got to the quiet clearing that was my usual destination. “Close to my age,” I’d muttered. “Well, I hope she knows you’re betrothed to me.” I’d mumbled a bit more, then shrugged a
nd told myself my divine Espen was surely above reproach and his behavior was utterly appropriate.
“Reading that again?” Dagmar asked, bringing me back to the present day, at the estate. I caught the worry in her voice. I hmm-d in acknowledgement, my eyes focused on Espen’s letter. He hadn’t written many, though older ones had been longer. I had them all in a ribbon-bound pack, one of the only things I’d brought with me to the country estate, far from the borders of the capital Edeleste and further from the palace at the north-western border of the city.
Two weeks earlier I’d ridden away. In a carriage. No Rune—he had been taken away along with my whole future. August had stood, dispassionately staring into the horizon, bidding only the most perfunctory farewell. Why he came to bid me farewell at all was beyond me. Mother had looked even weaker than usual, pale as a ghost in the chalky snow.
“We’ll send you word as soon as the Council can agree on a situation.” That was Mother’s sorry attempt at a farewell.
All I’d taken were Espen’s letters. I had clothes and necessities at the country estate, and the whole point of evacuating there was to stay out of the public eye so I wouldn’t need to worry about impressing anyone. No one accompanied me other than Dagmar, who had been present at my birth and had seen me in every sort of wild state, from hair accidentally turned into hay to singed from lighting myself on fire. There would be no impressing her. Besides, I hadn’t taken much moving to the palace.
Espen’s letters had provided the exclusive form of entertainment that I could stomach. I didn’t really read them anymore; instead I studied his handwriting, the way the papers had faded, where the creases were. Most emotions had bogged down, leaving me feeling tired and heavy. I couldn’t sort through what I felt so I just kept pushing it down.
