For the briefest moment, there was a flicker of something in the center of her chest, a familiar stirring that might allow her to reconnect with her magic. She snatched at it desperately, but nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. Not since that infernal guard had arrested her at the Saffron Fox.
Maybe one of Valkyra’s bridging exercises would do the trick. Aleida hadn’t needed to do one of those in a long time as her magic came so naturally now. But perhaps whatever the guard had done to her had disrupted the pathways between her mind, body, and spirit. Those three elements of the self had to be in harmony for a Tarja to effectively channel altma. She didn’t feel like any of them were misaligned, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to attempt the exercise. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do.
She inhaled a deep breath through her nose and exhaled slowly out of her mouth. Closing her eyes, she focused her other senses on her surroundings. Water dripped against stone somewhere outside the cell. The smell of sweat and human refuse seemed to cling to the very walls, and the metal bars were smooth and cold against her palms. The occasional disruption slipped into her thoughts to interrupt her focus—worries about the three days she’d lost sitting in this cell, questions about where Valkyra was, the ever-present fears about Tyrus’ health. Once, she might have attempted to push these thoughts out or beat them into submission. Now, she gave them only the barest acknowledgement and let them drift in and out of her mind like gentle waves breaking against the shore.
She stayed like this for a while, honing her focus until she could feel a noticeable change within herself, a calm stillness that was ideal for channeling altma. Again, she reached for her magic.
Nothing happened.
“Damn it!” Aleida slammed her palms against the bars of the cell and shook them. But of course, they didn’t budge. She snarled in frustration, pressed her back against the metal, and slumped down onto the floor.
They’d taken away her magic. Somehow, the guards in this place had a method for stripping a Tarja of their powers. It made sense. There were enough Tarja in Kavora that those who enforced the law would need some trick to subdue them, but Aleida hadn’t ever given the idea much thought before. What was it that guard had used, back at the Saffron Fox? Daravak, he’d called it, but shouldn’t it have left her system by now? The guards stationed here hadn’t repeated the procedure. They could have put something in her water, but that hadn’t tasted any different than usual, and she’d refused to eat anything else they’d brought her.
Her empty stomach clenched painfully at the reminder.
She wrapped her arms around herself, wincing a little as her arms pressed against bruised ribs. The guards had questioned her twice in the past few days, wanting to know what she’d been doing in the city after dark and how a Visan girl had come to be a Tarja. One of the guards, who happened to be a Tarja himself, had tested some of her belongings to see if any one of them was actually a Spirit Tarja Bonded to Aleida. A reasonable assumption; it was common for Spirit Tarja to take the form of inanimate objects since anything more complex required a considerable amount of power and skill to achieve.
When that didn’t turn up any answers, they’d called her a half-breed and demanded to know which of her parents had been Visan—or in their words, the filthy heathen. Then they took bets on what nationality her other parent might have been. When she had refused to give them any information, they’d spit in her face and tried to beat the answers out of her with their fists. The captain of the guardhouse had come in and put a stop to that the second time, but not before Aleida had a swollen eye and bruised ribs to match the scrape on her chin from her scuffle at the inn.
Aside from the daravak, nothing they’d done should have interfered with her ability to channel altma. So what was wrong with her?
A cold pit opened up inside her stomach as her mind conjured up a question she hadn’t allowed herself to consider until now. What if they’d stripped her of her magic permanently?
Before she could sink into panic, a soft whisper drew her attention. “Aleida.”
She shifted around. Valkyra sat on the stone floor outside her cell, white fur gleaming in the moonlight. Aleida let out a shaky breath. “You found me.”
“No thanks to your poor decisions,” Valkyra replied. There was only a slight hint of disapproval in her voice. “Come. It’s time we leave this place.”
“How? My magic is gone. I can’t get out.”
The Spirit Tarja unfolded her wings, bowed down, and shook herself. With a metallic jangle, a ring of keys slipped off her back and over her neck onto the floor. “I expect these will help.”
Aleida’s eyes widened. “How did you get those?”
Valkyra gave her a sly smile. “I have my ways. Now hurry. We only have a small window of opportunity to make our escape.”
Aleida reached through the bars and picked up the keys. There were more than a dozen of them. She held her breath as she tested them in the lock one at a time, flinching whenever they clanked together. If anyone was around to hear, they didn’t seem to find the noise suspicious. No one came running, not even the dog.
At last, she found the right key. It turned with a quiet click, and the lock pulled free.
She swung the door open, and Valkyra fluttered up to rest in her usual place on Aleida’s left shoulder. “I’ve already secured your belongings. They’re outside with the horse.”
“You got us a horse, too? You’ve been busy.”
“I have.”
“How did you manage—”
“Shh. Later. Right now, we need to focus on getting out of here. Through the door up ahead, on your right.”
Aleida pushed the door open a crack and listened, but there was no sound from the other side. She exited into the cool night air and found herself standing on a wooden balcony. A flight of stairs led to the ground. There was still no sign of anyone.
“Where are all the guards?” she asked as she took the stairs two at a time.
“Their attention has been diverted elsewhere.”
“Your doing again, I suppose?”
Valkyra ignored the question. “Keep going, dear. That way, toward the river.”
Aleida headed for the water. They were outside the city wall, near a wide pathway marked by wagon tracks and hoof prints. Not a main entrance into the city, but still a route that must have been busy during the day. The sound of voices drifted from around a bend in the road.
“Hurry,” Valkyra hissed. “That might be the guards on their way back.”
Aleida broke into a jog, trying to keep her footfalls as light as possible. The voices drew nearer, along with the sound of heavy boots crunching against gravel. She crossed to the other side of the road and slid down the grassy bank to the river below, then pressed herself flat against the ground. Hopefully, the shadows would be enough to conceal her.
For a few brief moments, she dared to peer up over the rise of the bank to watch the road. Five city guards approached, speaking to each other in disgruntled voices. Aleida put her head down and listened, her heart pounding against her sternum.
“What a complete waste of time that was. The man’s grown cowardly in his old age.”
“That, or foolish.”
“Probably both. He’s a loon.”
“Silence, all of you! Magistrate Ashaya was chosen for the imperial council by Empress Dashiva herself, and the Empress tolerates neither fools nor cowards.”
“He’s not on the imperial council anymore though, is he?”
“Right. How did he end up here if he was on such good terms with the Empress?”
“Wasn’t he friends with that other advisor? The Tarja woman, the one who was executed for treason after all that mess with Atrea.”
“I thought that was because of what happened in Vis.”
“Are you talking about Nandini Kumar?”
Aleida stiffened at the mention of that name, and a chill spread through her veins.
“Yes, that’s the one.”<
br />
“Maybe Ashaya fell out of the Empress’ favor when Kumar did.”
“Enough of this. You’re all a bunch of fools, and you have no business speculating on the dealings and intentions of the Empress. The Magistrate is an honorable man, and however he came to be assigned here, we should be grateful for his work. He’s certainly more competent than his predecessor.”
One of them made a joke Aleida didn’t fully catch, and the sound of their laughter faded away as they continued down the road. She waited a few more seconds before sitting up. “Where’s this horse?” she asked Valkyra, more eager than ever now to leave Valmandi far behind them.
Valkyra extended a foreleg to the left. “That way, not too far. We should be able to avoid being seen if we stick to the edge of the river.”
Aleida slid down the bank the last few paces to the water’s edge. She stood, brushed herself off, and started walking at a brisk pace. “Now are you going to tell me how you managed to get me out of there? And what took you so long, anyway?”
“I would have come sooner if I could have,” Valkyra said. “It took me a whole day to find out where you’d gone, and then two more to organize your escape.”
“And how did you do that?”
“I had a little help from an old friend.”
Aleida’s heart sank. “The Magistrate, by chance?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t realize you knew anyone here.” She didn’t quite manage to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
“I know many people in many different places, as do you. Does that bother you?”
“You should have mentioned it.”
“Ah, I see,” Valkyra said gently. “You’re upset by what those guards said.”
“Why would I be upset?”
“Well, if Magistrate Ashaya was a friend of Nandini Kumar, perhaps now you’re wondering if I was a friend of hers, too.”
“Were you?” Aleida growled. There was so little she knew about Valkyra’s life before she had died. She must have been a great Tarja, and it seemed likely that she’d been friends with other great Tarja in high places. People like Nandini Kumar, who had used her high position to orchestrate an invasion that had ended thousands of Visan lives.
“I knew her,” Valkyra admitted quietly. “But we weren’t friends.”
Aleida clenched her jaw, unable to stop the sudden surge of emotion that swirled inside her like a hurricane. “You never told me.”
“I didn’t think it was anything worth telling.”
It wasn’t. It was nothing Aleida had needed to know and nothing that had any real impact on her relationship with Valkyra. So why did it feel so much like a betrayal?
“I’m sorry, dear,” the Spirit Tarja said. “I didn’t realize it would upset you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She had more pressing concerns right now anyway. “I’m not sure what they did to me back there, but I haven’t been able to use my magic since I was arrested.”
“Daravak,” Valkyra replied. “It should wear off in a day or so.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a type of fungus, mostly harmless, but it does inhibit a Tarja’s ability to channel altma. It’s a common means of subduing dangerous prisoners. When it’s fresh, inhaling it is enough to suppress a Tarja’s power for an entire day.”
Aleida frowned. “It’s been more than a day since they used it on me.”
“You slept while they had you locked up, didn’t you? All they would have had to do was put a little of the stuff in front of your nose while you were dreaming to renew the effects.”
“Oh.” A weight seemed to lift at the realization that her powers would return. She’d only had them for two years, but in that time, they’d become an integral part of who she was. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it if her magic was truly gone forever.
“There’s the horse,” Valkyra said.
A handsome bay was tethered to the slender trunk of a young tree. Aleida clicked her tongue softly to the animal as they approached, and he nickered in return. She patted his neck as she stepped around to examine the saddle. Her own small pack hung over one of the saddlebags, and the other was filled with enough food to last several days.
She untied the horse’s reins and swung up onto his back. He carried her up the gentle slope of the riverbank and back to the main road, which was empty now. It was only then that she realized she didn’t quite know which way they should go. Amar and his friends had doubtless moved on from Valmandi. They could have reached Sharmok by now. Maybe they’d already started into the desert.
“Where are we going?” Valkyra asked.
“I’m not sure. We could try to follow them through the desert, but you seemed to think that was a bad idea.”
“Without a guide we can trust? It’s a terrible idea, especially in the middle of summer. Even under the best conditions, there are a thousand ways to die in that place if you don’t know what you’re doing or where you’re going.”
Aleida bit her lip. The alternative was to go around the desert, but that would only waste more time. “I don’t want any more delays.”
“Perhaps you should have considered that before you went charging into that inn without me.”
Aleida suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “We’ll have to go around, I suppose.”
“A wise decision. You won’t be able to do anything for your brother if you’re dead in the middle of the desert, after all.” In a gentler voice, the dragon added, “Going around will take us near Chatanda. We could stop by and check in on Tyrus. I’m sure he’d appreciate the visit.”
Aleida’s mood brightened a little at the thought, and she nudged the horse forward with her heels. She hadn’t seen Tyrus since last winter—far too long ago for both of them. As much as she hated the idea of more delays, it would be good to pay him a visit. He always claimed to be doing well enough in his letters, but this way, she could see for herself, and she wasn’t opposed to that.
20
Kesari
After a restful night and a hot breakfast in a little inn near the outskirts of Sharmok, Kesari led the others to the various vendors she’d scouted out the day before to buy supplies. They spent all but a few coins acquiring everything they needed, including a stocky little donkey which Saya named Berna. Then they drew water from the well until they’d filled every single one of the extra canteens they’d purchased and loaded them onto Berna’s back with their other supplies.
They left Sharmok and travelled for a few hours before stopping to eat and swap out their clothes. Kesari and Saya stood behind the donkey to change while the men watched the road for travelers. Their new attire was light and loose-fitting, meant to allow plenty of airflow while shielding as much skin as possible from the burning rays of the summer sun. Kesari shucked off her heavy coat and the close-fitting garments beneath it, then stuffed them all into her pack.
Saya held a new shirt and pants out to her. “These should fit you.” Kesari took the clothes, and Saya’s eyes drifted to the dozens of scar lines running up both her forearms.
Her cheeks grew hot, and she quickly averted her gaze to avoid meeting Saya’s. What was she going to think of her now? How was she supposed to explain? Should she explain, or just leave Saya to her own speculations?
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she blurted out, then quickly shoved her arms through her sleeves and tugged the ends down as low as she could. “I mean, I did it to myself, but…I don’t do that anymore.”
Her stomach twisted. She shouldn’t have said anything. They were starting to become friends, and now she’d ruined it. Saya wouldn’t understand this. How could she, when Kesari barely understood it herself?
She allowed her eyes to flit up from the ground to the older girl’s face. Whatever she’d expected to find there—disgust, pity, judgment—Saya didn’t show any of it. Instead, she gave Kesari a small, kind smile and said, “I’m glad.”
Some of her body’s restless tension melted aw
ay, and she stopped tugging at the cuffs of her sleeves. I’m glad. No blame, no revulsion, no lectures or demands for an explanation. Only acceptance. Was that even possible?
For some things, maybe. But there was still plenty Saya and the others didn’t know about her—things that were best kept to herself.
After Amar and Mitul had changed, they continued down the road with Saya leading the way. The foliage grew thinner, and the road turned to little more than a trail as they started into the desert. Far ahead, rocky mesas rose up at sharp angles before ending in high, flat plateaus. As they drew closer, Kesari could make out the individual hues of the cliffs’ many layers, from pale tan to warm orange to a deep rusty red.
They didn’t see another living soul until late afternoon, when a few Sularan traders passed by, presumably on their way to Sharmok. They greeted Saya with the same open-palm hand gesture Kesari had seen in the village. After that, they were completely alone, and soon the trail they’d been following disappeared entirely. Saya led them on, confidently following a path only she could see. Kesari hooked her lantern to one of the packs Berna carried, and Lucian came out to hover beside her as they walked.
Kesari had always pictured the Sular Desert as being barren and empty, with nothing but sand and sun as far as the eye could see. Perhaps there were places where it was like that, but so far, there had been a lot more to look at than she’d anticipated. Short scrub bushes and prickling cacti stood out in vibrant greens and yellows against the reds and oranges of the sand and rocks. A few of them bloomed with brightly colored flowers, adding flecks of pink, blue, and purple to the warm earthy tones.
The landscape was undeniably beautiful, but the longer they walked under the merciless heat of the sun, the more Kesari started to hate the desert. Her face burned, and her dark hair was hot to the touch when she reached up to brush it out of her eyes. Saya stopped for a moment to wrap her head and face with the red sash she usually wore around her waist and shoulders. She helped Kesari, Mitul, and Amar do the same with similar garments they’d purchased, but it didn’t seem to help much. When Kesari began to sweat, the fabric of her clothing clung to her body with an uncomfortable stickiness. She would have stripped down to her undergarments if she thought it would do any good, but Saya had warned them that exposing their skin to the sun would only make it burn.
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