by Adalyn Grace
“—the magic was a dangerous, wicked thing,” the narrator continues. “Today, we call it soul magic. It bound itself to soul after greedy soul of those who wielded multiple magics, killing them! But even with half of Arida’s population destroyed, the beast wasn’t content. As its hunger grew, it sought to spread its blight.” The beast chases a series of screaming puppets around the tiny stage before swallowing them. Casem presses his lips together tightly, forcing back a smirk. I let him have this one.
“When all hope seemed lost,” the story continues, “one person took a stand against the monster—Cato Montara!” A regal-looking puppet of my great ancestor jumps onto the stage, drawing applause from the children and adults alike. Many of them lift fake replicas of Cato’s skinning knife into the air and cheer.
“Cato hadn’t yet established the monarchy; he was but a humble, magicless man who sought to protect the people he loved. He made a deal with the beast—if he could convince everyone to be content with practicing only one magic forevermore, then the beast would have to give Cato its magic and leave Arida alone. The beast laughed in Cato’s face and agreed, for it believed people were too greedy for such terms. It didn’t expect Cato could ever convince others to stop practicing all but one of their magics—and yet he did.
“Cato then vanquished the beast with nothing more than a single skinning knife, and because of their agreement, its magic was forever bound to the Montara bloodline!” Children gasp in awe, looking at their toy knives.
The narrator’s voice rises dramatically. “But if we were to go back on our ways, the beast could one day return. So to protect our people from ever being tempted by multiple magics again, Cato ruled that people pick only one type of magic to practice, and go to live on the island that would now represent that magic. He stayed on Arida, with those he chose as his advisers from each island, and created the kingdom. King Cato made Visidia what it is now, but”—here, the narrator lowers his voice in warning—“we are not the only ones responsible for keeping the beast away. The Montaras protect us, keeping it locked away within their blood. Should it ever break free from the Montaras, it will seek vengeance on all of Visidia. It will destroy every one of our souls.”
The children start to shift with worry, and the narrator’s voice evens out again, perfectly timed. “But don’t fear; as long as we don’t break our vow to practice but one magic, and so long as we have a capable animancer who’s strong enough to maintain the beast’s power and master its magic, Visidia will forever remain safe.”
Pride warms my skin and peppers it with goose bumps. It’s an incredible show, designed perfectly to preface the performance I’m about to give. I’m so invested in it that I jump as a little boy shouts from the audience, “If the magic’s so dangerous, why do the Montaras still practice it?” He earns a sharp shush from a woman I assume is his mother, though others offer a few quiet sniggers.
The narrator is prepared for the question. His voice is coy and smooth as molasses. “It’s not quite so simple. Magic is a strange thing, my boy; it’s not something that simply disappears when neglected. And Aridian magic is particularly dangerous, for the beast who gave the Montaras this magic is constantly fighting for control over its user’s soul. The magic must be used and exhausted, otherwise it will fester and grow until the beast becomes strong enough to take control.
“When King Cato locked it within the Montara bloodline,” the narrator continues, “he made it his family’s mission to master and contain the beast. Those who do are given the title of Animancer—a master of souls. That’s the reason we’ve gathered here tonight, to watch Princess Amora solidify her position as heir to Visidia by proving herself capable of becoming Animancer. May she one day rule as well as her father, King Audric.”
Nerves seize my chest. I take Casem’s arm to pull him away before anyone notices us, but a snort from the crowd halts me.
“Right, because another lazy ruler is really what we need.”
My hold on Casem’s arm slips.
A frivolous soprano responds with a laugh. “Lazy? Please, you’re babbling like a clueless Kaven supporter. The islands are thriving.”
“Perhaps your island is thriving. But hardly anyone’s been visiting Valuka since the hot springs ran dry. Not to mention Kerost, which is barely keeping afloat.”
Several palace guards stand nearby, their eyes sparking with curiosity. They make no move to stop the slander.
From my position behind them, those watching the performance don’t notice me until I step forward to make myself known. “Excuse me?” Silence ensnares the conversations as one by one, faces turn to me in horror. The guards straighten at once. “Just what lazy ruler are you referring to?”
They stare at my crown. At the epaulettes. But their eyes are missing the same awe I noticed earlier. Fear sits in its place.
“We should get moving.” Casem takes hold of my arm and tugs me away from the audience. I let him.
“What was that woman talking about?” My blood burns, heating my ears and neck with annoyance. “Who’s Kaven? What did they mean about Kerost barely staying afloat?”
Casem waves me off with a flourish of his hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Clearly she has no idea what she’s talking about.”
“But it’s like they were afraid of me. And the palace guards just stood there!”
His forehead wrinkles. “Amora, you’re wearing a crown of bones, and knives for shoulder pads. Don’t misinterpret their respect as fear. And what would you expect the guards to do? Even fools may speak freely.”
But the words don’t settle me; there’s something more. “I should speak with my father.”
Casem’s lips press into a thin line. “You should be relaxing. If you get too worked up before the ceremony, you’re going to get your magic all riled—”
“This isn’t a debate,” I snap. “I need to speak with him. Don’t make me fight you, Casem.”
Casem’s eyes drop to my satchel, then to the dagger at my side. I’ve trained with Casem and his father, the weapons master for our soldiers, since I was a child. Mother and Father insisted I learn to protect myself, so Casem’s been my sparring partner for years. But he favors the bow, and I can count on one hand the times he’s bested me with a sword.
“Fine,” he huffs, tempering himself with a long breath. “But the king isn’t going to be happy.”
* * *
We find Father near the top of the mountain, lingering in a secluded area near the garden’s edge with advisers from all over Visidia flocked around him. Despite the drinks that several of the advisers hold, they’re anything but jovial. When I push past the guards, I see their bodies are taut and expressions serious.
Casem’s father, Olin Liley, is among them in a pristine sapphire blazer with golden trim. The royal Aridian adviser straightens as his son approaches, eyes narrowing in what I can only guess is a warning.
Casem was right—Father doesn’t look happy. But there’s a young man across from him who looks even angrier.
The adviser is younger than the others, in his early twenties at most. His garb is expensive—finely tailored breeches of a soft khaki, an unwrinkled linen shirt, and leather boots that nearly reach his knee. His frock coat is the bright shade of a ruby, and as his cuff links catch the light, I see that they’re embossed with the royal emblem. The trim that thinly lines the coat is a bright gold—he’s a royal representative from Valuka, then.
“We need to figure out a way to stop this,” he argues, face pinched as if thoroughly exasperated. “Please, just listen to me, would you? Everyone can believe what they want about Kerost, but Kaven won’t stop until he’s—”
“Kaven’s nothing more than talk.” Father’s harsh dismissal causes the Valukan to bristle. But before he can say anything more, Olin sets a hand on Father’s shoulder.
“We have company, Your Majesty.” He nods to me, and Father’s brows lift in surprise as he turns.
“Who is Kaven?” I demand. The ad
visers snap to attention as I step forward. Their focus shifts to Father, whose fierce expression is amplified tenfold beneath his crown. It’s not quite as tall as mine, but it’s incredible—an ivory-plated skeleton of a Valuna eel. It’s a deep-sea creature of legends; a ten-foot-long beast with rows of dagger-sharp teeth—each the size of my index finger—that our ancestors were rumored to have fought nearly a century ago. Its mouth is so large that Father’s face sits within it. The upper jaw curves around his head, and the bottom half sits beneath Father’s chin, as if eating him. The eel’s jewel-encrusted spine stretches down his back and curves upward at Father’s tailbone.
I wonder if I look half as terrifying in my crown as he looks in his.
“You shouldn’t be here, Your Highness,” Olin answers. “You should be in the gardens, readying yourself for your performance.” His attention lifts to Casem, who wilts behind me.
“And I will be, once someone tells me what’s going on.” I look around him and at the Valukan adviser who now stands tall behind Father. He said something about Kerost, and as I look over the representatives surrounding him, there’s one color in particular I don’t see: amethyst.
“Where are the Kers?” My chest tightens as Father’s placid expression slips. The more I look around, the more startling their absence is. It’s not just a Kerost representative who’s missing. In all the excitement of the night, I hadn’t noticed an entire island of my people was missing. “Are they all right?”
“They’re fine,” Father says at the same time the Valukan adviser says, “They’re revolting against Visidia.”
Father groans, turning over his shoulder to glare at the Valukan. The young man glares back at him while the surrounding advisers shift uncomfortably.
“I’m trying to help you,” the adviser presses. “The least you can do is hear me out—”
“You’re all dismissed.” The anger in Father’s booming voice causes the adviser to flinch back. He opens his mouth as though to protest, but screws it shut when his hazel eyes find mine. I try not to stare back as Father says, “I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”
Olin and the other advisers bow before they push the Valukan boy’s shoulder to get him to move. “Fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” He growls a few choice words as the rest of the advisers apologize for his ignorance and steer the Valukan away.
Eventually only Casem remains, though he excuses himself to a spot several feet away, out of immediate hearing range.
“Strange that I haven’t met him before,” I say to Father. “I could have sworn I knew all the advisers.”
Father grunts. “Lord Bargas was apparently too ill to make the journey, and sent his son in his place. Charming boy, that one. Stormed in here and demanded a meeting like he himself was king.”
Though I don’t want to, Father’s blatant annoyance at the Valukan makes me laugh. It eases the tension in his shoulders, and clears the air between us just a little.
“I wasn’t aware Lord Bargas had a son,” I say, though the adviser certainly looked like the son of Valuka’s lead representative—smooth brown skin, a strong square jaw, and an almost annoyingly straight nose. He was built similar to the baron, too. A little stocky, with broad, muscular shoulders and arms that the rest of his body hadn’t quite grown into, and the cocky look of someone with wealth to flaunt. “What did he mean when he said the Kers were revolting?”
“No one’s revolting. The Kers are only trying to make a statement; it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Then tell me what they’re protesting,” I argue, igniting a twitch that eats Father’s jawline. “Surely it’s something, if they’re trying to make a statement.”
“By Cato’s blade, you’re as stubborn as your old man.” He steps forward, and it’s impossible to determine whether it’s anger that lights his eyes. I steady myself, prepared to argue, but he drops his hand on my head, just before my crown, and the fire within me fizzles out.
“They want something I can’t give them.” Father’s voice lightens from the powerful baritone he used with the advisers and into the soft and quiet voice he uses at home. “Kerost has always been plagued by vicious storms. It’s why we employ groups of Valukans with a water affinity to live there, to help calm the tides and prevent the storms from destroying the island. But the Kers don’t like being dependent. A few seasons ago, I started to get reports of the Kers bribing the Valukans for training. They wanted the Valukans to show them how to control the water.”
His words snatch the air from my lungs. “They wanted to learn multiple magics? But that’s suicide!”
Father grunts, dropping his hand from my head. “If enough people were to practice multiple magics, our hold on the beast would eventually fall. Souls would be ruined, and the beast would run rampant. That’s why I had to remove the Valukans from Kerost, to end the temptation. Unfortunately, they fell victim to a bad storm early last season. And without the help of the Valukans, it destroyed part of their island.”
It’s as though a thousand leeches suck the blood from my veins, making me cold and nauseous.
“What about the Suntosans?” I press. “Did you at least keep healers there to help them?”
“I had to remove them from the situation, too,” he says, and I’m glad to see that there’s at least a hint of shame reddening his cheeks. “It was only meant to be until they agreed to stop trying to learn multiple magics. But then the storm happened, and the timing was … unfortunate.”
How could he have kept this from me? And not just him, but Mira, too. As closely as she’s connected to all the kingdom’s news, surely she would have known.
I’m to be the ruler of this kingdom, and I intend to be a great one. But how can I be expected to protect Visidia if I don’t even know what’s happening within it?
“I needed to ensure you didn’t lose focus,” Father says, as if reading my thoughts. “Remember, Amora, until you or Yuriel have children, you are but one of two possible heirs left for the throne. Right now, the most important thing you can do for this kingdom is perform well tonight and claim that title.”
I squint my eyes shut as frustration swells within me, trying to quell it enough to see the situation clearly.
I know tonight is important. And it makes sense that the Kers are angry. But if Father let them get away with practicing multiple magics, Cato’s agreement with the beast would be voided and the kingdom would fall.
However, without the help of the Valukans, the Kers’ homes are being destroyed. We can’t let that happen, either.
“We need another way to help them,” I say. “We can strengthen their understanding of the potential dangers of practicing multiple magics, but we also need to give them stronger materials for their buildings and help them repair. We can’t take away their only source of protection.”
He sets a hand on my shoulder. “And I don’t intend to. But as the King of Visidia, I have to protect all our people. Keeping the Valukans there was a death sentence on our kingdom. But trust that we’re figuring it out, Amora. Trust that I’m going to fix it.”
Of course I want to trust that Father will make things right, but what I don’t understand is why he isn’t already in Kerost, helping them rebuild. If the storm was last season, why are we still standing around trying to figure this out?
“Just where does Kaven fit into this?” My head feels thicker by the second. How have I been so clueless? How has everyone managed to keep this from me?
Clearly wishing the discussion over, Father’s sigh is long and annoyed. “He’s a man who doesn’t agree with some of the decisions I’ve made,” he answers flatly. “But no one can agree with everything I do, can they? He’s no threat to us. Now settle your thoughts. All will be fine for one more night.”
Thinking back to the Valukan’s angry face, I’m not sure I believe his easy dismissal. I want to argue with Father and tell him I deserve to know more, but as I open my mouth, Aunt Kalea comes clambering up the hill with
a grin. My aunt doesn’t wait for permission to approach, or even stop to think for a moment that she might be interrupting something important. Carelessly, just barely avoiding my epaulettes, she throws her arms around me with a hearty laugh.
“Oh, my beautiful girl! What a vision you are!” When she pulls away, she bats Father lightly in the shoulder. “How did an oaf like you manage to raise such a radiant woman, Audric? She’s stunning!”
Father laughs. “She gets all her charm from Keira. I’m afraid all she gets from me is her stubbornness.”
“And your sense of adventure,” I add, which makes Father still, his eyes softening. It’s a strange moment; a slow one where he trails his eyes over me, then onto the crown, as though seeing me in it for the first time. When he smiles again, it’s warm with pride and heats my blood.
“And my sense of adventure.” He turns to his sister and claps her on the shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I should find my wife before the ceremony, but bring Jordi and Yuriel by and we’ll celebrate with some wine afterward. I’ve three barrels reserved just for us.” He grins toothily, looking like the silly older brother I only see him be when my aunt’s around.
“And Amora?” he adds quietly. I turn, nearly flinching back when he bows his head to me. “I love you. Remember that after tonight, won’t you? Once you’re officially the heir and are off on all those grand adventures of yours.”
“Don’t go getting all sappy on me now,” I tell him, trying to hide my embarrassment. “I love you, too.”
His smile is soft as he bends to kiss my forehead. The teeth of the eel crown graze my cheek.
And then Father’s gone, leaving my aunt in his place.
She’s lovely in a gown of soft blue. It’s a statement gown—a mix of Arida’s sapphire and Mornute’s soft hues. It says she understands her roots are with Arida, but that it’s no longer her home. She’s a small woman with olive skin similar to Father’s, deeply tanned and brushed with gold from so much time spent in the sun. She’s plump and youthful, with only the soft wrinkles around her eyes hinting at her age.