by Adalyn Grace
Lord Garrison sets his hands on the table, keeping himself tall. “Politics is a game, son. Everyone is a pawn.”
From the rest of the advisers, an overwhelming silence is their only response.
“I propose we send notice to each of the islands,” Lord Garrison continues, though I no longer look at him. I press a hand to my forehead instead, willing away the headache blossoming against my temples. “We’ll tell them you’re on your way to meet their most eligible bachelors. We’ll be loud about it, and ensure everyone’s attention is on you. We’ll distract the kingdom from how quickly everything around them is changing.”
“It’s a clever idea.” Zale’s voice is soft and regretful when she chimes in. “We could use it as an opportunity for you to curry favor, Amora, and have the islands get to know you. The people would feel engaged; like you’re one of them, and part of this kingdom. Love also makes you vulnerable. It makes you soft, and that softness is what people need to see from you. This could give Visidia hope.”
It takes everything in me not to let her feel the extent of my rage, even as the rest of the advisers nod their agreement.
It’s barely been two seasons since I broke off the engagement with Ferrick, and already they’re trying to pawn me off on another man. Just the idea of it’s enough for me to push from the table, rising on legs that threaten to shake with anger.
“I’ve spent over eighteen years training to be in the position I’m in.” I grit the words through my teeth, having to reel in my emotions with each one. “I’ve studied the books of our history. The maps. Magic. Weapons. Strategy. Court. Tell me, what man is out there who has done the same? What man could possibly be ready to sit at my side and help lead a kingdom?” I try to steady my wavering voice; it’s not one that comes from nerves, but from hate. Not at Lord Garrison or the other advisers, but at the sheer fact that, deep down, I recognize this idea has its merits.
The kingdom needs something to distract them, and I told myself I’d do whatever it took to right the wrongs left behind by the Montaras. But this?
Across the table, Lord Garrison remains calm as the summer sea. “I admire your tenacity to strengthen the kingdom, but as I’ve already said, Visidians need to trust their ruler. No one has even seen your strength. You may have stopped Kaven, but since you failed during your ceremony last summer, no one has seen your magic. With Arida’s prisons at capacity, many have their hesitations about you, Your Majesty. Rumors you can’t use your magic at the level of a High Animancer have been circulating; many believe you don’t have the control over your soul magic to even execute prisoners, let alone protect Visidia. It’s time for damage control. It’s time to show the kingdom that you’re vulnerable—that you’re so open to listening to the concerns of commoners that you’d even consider bringing one of them into the kingdom as your husband.”
Mother’s face slackens as I freeze. This is the first I’ve heard whispers about my magic.
“There’ve been more urgent concerns than executing prisoners.” It’s Bastian’s sharp voice that cuts in, and I’m thankful for the moment it gives me to collect myself. “Her magic is fine.”
Though Lord Garrison nods, the corners of his eyes crease with a scrutiny that says he doesn’t fully believe the lie. “Of course. That’s why a tour like this would be so beneficial, so that Her Majesty might show the kingdom she’s not only powerful, but that she’s someone they can trust. That she hears their worries and will do what’s best for the kingdom.”
I taste the start of blood at my bottom lip from how roughly I worry at it. “I’ll put an end to any rumors about my magic tonight,” I say before I can decide better of it. “I’ll address all prisoners who’ve been sentenced to an execution by my magic, and I invite you to watch, Lord Garrison. And if anyone else here is concerned about my magic, you’re welcome to join us.”
Both Mother and Bastian try to catch my eye, but I refuse to pay them any mind. Here before the others, I must maintain my most dismissive calm even as my heart races so fiercely that it can’t be long before I crack.
I need to get out of here. I need to plan and think, far from whispers or advisers and the swirling mass of Bastian’s nerves that eat at me.
The sooner I can squash those rumors about my magic, the better. On top of everything else, the discovery of my missing magic is the last thing I need.
“I’ll consider this proposal, Lord Garrison,” I announce to the table, hiding my shaking hands. “And I’ll see you tonight.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Bastian catches up to me before I can escape back to my room, breathless as he seizes hold of my wrist.
I jump from the jolt of his skin on mine. His touch blazes through me like fire, igniting my veins. It makes me want to give myself to him, to let him hold me and just burn.
It’s why I’ve been doing everything in my power to stay away from him.
“You’re really going to run out like that?” he demands, his hair windswept from running, hazel eyes fixed on mine. “You have no magic, Amora. How do you think you’re going to get away with this, especially with others watching?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” I whip my hand back from him, as though he’s a flame threatening to char my skin. “I need others to watch. That’s the only way I have a chance at putting a stop to the rumors that something happened to my magic.”
His fists are clenched, the muscles in his neck taut. “But do you have a plan? You know, that thing where you pause to think about what you’re doing before you announce to an entire room that you’re going to do it?”
“Of course I do,” I argue. “I have a … a contingency plan.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Oh? What kind of contingency plan?”
I clamp my teeth together, tempering the frustration that’s bubbling within me. “One that will work.” But also, one I hoped I’d never have to use. One with too many variables, when we have only one chance to get this right. I know full well how risky it is—one misstep, and my entire reign will go down in flames before it’s even begun. But I’ve known this day would come since the moment I took the throne, and this is the only idea that stands a chance.
Bastian sighs. “You don’t need to do this by yourself. Just … talk to me. You and I are better together; let me help you.”
For a fleeting moment, I want little more than exactly that. But I trusted Father with everything, and look where that got me. I will not put my faith solely in another person, again.
“You can help me by staying away tonight.” I keep my voice terse, trying to ignore the way his grief slices into me. Every fiber of my body buzzes with the wrongness of this emotion that isn’t my own. “You’re a distraction, Bastian. And I can’t have any distractions when I’m down in the prison.”
Maybe they’re cruel words. But as his face falls, I know they’ve worked. For now, that’s all that matters.
“You’ve been avoiding me all fall. I’m sure I can manage to stay away from you for one night.” He leans away from me and crosses his arms over his chest. The stance looks almost casual, but I’m not fooled. Frustration boils within him, heating my skin. “But what about what they said in the meeting? Are you … Is that something you want?”
“Getting married?” I snort. “Of course it isn’t. But you can’t deny the idea has merit.”
“It’s a safe idea,” he challenges, gritting the words between clenched teeth. His anger is a dark and vicious storm of emotions that swells within me.
“There’s nothing wrong with trying to be safe.” I haven’t had the chance to truly consider the idea, but I can’t help but want Bastian to feel a little sting from my words. I want him to know that, regardless of this curse linking us, he doesn’t own me. He is not my destiny, and though I might want him, I don’t need him. “Visidia’s lost too much. My mother has lost too much. What’s wrong with having some stability?”
“There’s nothing wrong with stability. But it shouldn’t mean sacrificing
who you are.” He steps forward and reaches out as if to touch me. Though every inch of my body burns for that touch, I flinch back, only realizing a moment too late what I’ve done.
Bastian stills, stricken. His chest doesn’t move—for a moment, he doesn’t breathe.
“You just got out of one engagement; don’t trap yourself again.” His words have turned to a whisper, soft and pleading.
“This isn’t a sudden suggestion.” I keep my voice hard. “There’s a reason my family engaged me to Ferrick last summer, and now there are too few options left to be the heir. I have to consider it—I’ll do whatever it takes to repair this kingdom, and if that means I must put a ring on my finger to do it, or fake whatever I must fake so that my people can rest easy, then I will.”
His jaw snaps shut, and I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. I’m about to dismiss myself, unable to bear the tension any longer, when his posture relaxes.
“Fine.” Bastian speaks with such finality that, for a moment, I’m almost offended he hasn’t tried harder to stop me. At the very least I expected an outburst, yet his anger comes cool and bitter.
“Fine?”
“That’s what I said.” His voice is calm, but brisk. “It’s fine. In fact, you should do it.”
It’s as though he’s struck me straight in the chest. I turn away, unwilling to let him see the anger festering inside me. “This is all it took you to back off? Stars, maybe I should have begun courting ages ago.”
Bastian’s laugh is smooth as wine. In his nearness, I can practically taste the familiar sea-salt scent of his skin. “Who said anything about backing off? The plan would be to meet the most eligible bachelors in all Visidia, right? And see if you have a connection with any of them?”
I watch him warily, eyes narrowed. “That’s correct.”
His breathing settles. Though his eyes are dark, determination has hardened them. The smile he flashes is nearly enough to melt me to the floor, warm and rich and brilliant. “Then if that’s what you decide to do, let’s not forget that I’m a bachelor, too. And I’m very, very eligible.”
As the shock of his words settles in, I find I can barely move my lips, let alone form words. Sweat coats my palms, and I wipe them by pretending to smooth out my dress. My mouth is dry and my cheeks hot and flustered. The last thing I want is for him to notice, though the attempt is useless. This boy can feel my very soul.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I turn away before my thundering heart can betray me to him and the entire kingdom. “I have to prepare for this evening.”
The last thing I see from Bastian is that he bows his head. There’s a smirk in his voice as he calls out, “You won’t be able to ignore me forever, Princess.”
But until I can sort out these emotions roiling within me, I’m sure as stars going to try.
CHAPTER FIVE
My boots sink into blood-red sand as Casem and I lead the advisers to the prison beneath the cast of a silver moon. Only two have showed up—Lord Garrison and Lord Freebourne. For the others, I’m sure the grotesque rumors of my magic have outweighed their curiosity.
Growing up, Father and I journeyed into these prisons once every year for a single purpose—to rid Visidia of its most dangerous criminals, by using our magic to execute them. Back then I’d thought I was protecting Visidia with my magic, as my kingdom still wrongly believes. The soul magic that Father and I practiced was corrupt and grotesque, but until this past summer I didn’t know any better. Our magic is the result of a curse on our bloodline to punish my ancestor Cato, who originally tricked everyone into believing they could only practice one magic for their protection.
Once I break both the Montara curse and my curse to Bastian, my soul magic should return to the way it was always intended to be used—as something peaceful and protective that allows its users to read souls and the intent of them. And though I’m excited to get to know that version of my magic, I can’t help but acknowledge the sliver of fear.
Grotesque as my magic may have been, I’d always believed I was using it to protect others. And for that reason, I grew to love it.
“Are you feeling okay about this?” It’s Casem’s whisper that breaks our silence, pulling me from my thoughts. This isn’t the time to feel mournful.
“Now is as good a time as any,” I tell him. “Let’s get this over with.”
I guide the others up a steep cliffside and deep into a thicket of rainbow eucalyptus, inwardly pleased by Lord Garrison’s huffing and stumbling. Unlike him, I need nothing more than starlight to guide me through this island I know so well. This island that has etched itself inside my soul. In my lungs. In the salt that burns the cracked skin of my palms. I could close my eyes and still lead the others through Arida without missing a step.
Built like a cavern into the cliffside, the prison’s exit is guarded by three skilled soldiers—two Valukans with an affinity toward earth and air, and a Curmanan with mind magic, skilled with levitation. As they step aside to let us through, even more guards wait within the prison.
Typically, Father would send them away for our executions. But whether it’s because I’m new to doing this on my own or because they’re suspicious of why I’ve avoided the prisons for so long, several guards tail us from a distance, as if expecting me to give the command for them to leave at any moment. But it’s good that the guards are here. The more people who witness this, the better.
Sweat beads my temples as we journey through the dank tunnels, taking the musty dirt path that leads to the section of the prison that hosts the worst of the criminals. As we arrive, nerves seize my chest as I peer into the tiny window carved into an iron door.
A willowy, blond-haired woman glares back at me. Her skin is pale and eyes hollow; on her neck is the familiar black tattoo of an X—the mark of someone charged and tried for premeditated murder. Her hands are bound tightly before her, covered with a thick burlap sack. Every inch of her skin is covered with cloth, and on her feet are irremovable metal boots that tell me she’s a Valukan with an affinity toward earth. Without being able to connect her body with the earth through touch, her ability to control the element is nonexistent.
There are others behind her—five total, bound by chains to the wall. All of whom are to be executed tonight.
I hold my position outside the cell as the guard opens the door. Curiosity is ablaze within all the guards’ eyes. The majority of them stand to the side as I enter, arms folded behind them as they watch with hawklike focus. The advisers stand with them, and Lord Garrison watches expectantly as the woman’s gags are torn from her.
“I was beginning to think you’d never show up.” She keeps her voice playful even when her eyes flit this way and that, searching for the nearest exit. With as many guards as there are patrolling the prison, it’d be pointless for her to run. But that hasn’t stopped prisoners from trying.
I close the remaining space between her and pluck a hair from her scalp. When she flinches away from my touch, I see the mark I’m looking for. On her bound hands, just above the edge of the burlap that’s meant to be covering all of her, is a faint lilac tattoo on her inner forearm—two skeletal fish forming crossbones beneath a skull. It’s tiny, nearly impossible to see, but it gives me all the courage I need to press on. Clutching the hair in my fist, I say a silent prayer that this will work.
“I need fire,” I tell the closest guard.
Soul magic is based upon equivalent exchange; if I want to take a bone from someone, I must offer a bone and something of their person—usually a hair. If I want their tooth, then I offer a tooth in return. And if I want to kill them, I must use their blood.
However, there’s no one way to use soul magic; everyone who has ever wielded it has done so in a unique way. My father used water for drowning, my aunt swallows the bones and uses the acid in her stomach to destroy them. I use fire to burn the blood and bones of my victims.
Likely anticipating my request, a Valukan guard obliges by drawing a powe
rful breath from her gut. When she breathes out again it’s with an extended palm. In it, a tiny flame flickers and stretches to life, building each time the Valukan exhales. She sets the flames upon a small pit built into the cell, created for exactly this purpose, and it flares brightly. I open my palm and dangle the hair above it.
“What’s your name?”
The prisoner’s easy demeanor falters. Her expression becomes tart as she attempts to rise to her feet, but the heavy boots trip her, and there’s nowhere for her to go. Only bound prisoners wait behind her, and a handful of Visidia’s strongest magic wielders before her.
“Don’t try it,” I warn as her eyes flick toward the single exit. “I’ll ask you one more time—what’s your name?” I reach for the satchel on my hip, relishing the way my skin buzzes against the burnished leather, missing having a reason to reach for it. From it, I draw a single tooth and wind the prisoner’s hair around it.
For me, teeth are the most humane way I know to get the amount of blood I need to end a person’s life. While uncomfortable, it’s fairly painless.
I dangle the tooth over the writhing fire, watching as the woman’s jaw twitches in response. Her hard demeanor shatters.
“Please don’t do this,” the woman pleads. “Please, give me another chance.”
My own jaw twitches too, though unlike hers, mine’s from annoyance. I hate being made the villain, especially in front of a crowd. “I asked for your name.”
“Riley,” she says. “It’s Riley Pierce.”
“Riley Pierce, as the Queen of Visidia, it’s my job to keep the kingdom safe. Your soul is a blight; it’s grown corrupted from your crimes, and the people of Visidia have chosen execution as your punishment. If you have any last words, say them now.”
She drops her head, shoulders shaking as I press my palm against them, keeping her on her knees should she try anything.