“Uh—”
She pointed at him emphatically. “You are a seventeen-year-old magic eater with the talent of a forty-year-old and the judgment of a toddler.”
“Oh.”
“I have serious concerns that you’ll kill yourself or get arrested before Evie and I die, and that’s unacceptable, considering you’re supposed to take care of us in our old age.”
Krey couldn’t prevent his lips from curving into a smile. “I’m fine, Aunt Min. I barely got hurt, and I promise you the king doesn’t even know my name.”
Her forehead knit beneath her tight, black curls. “All eight hundred people in that square know your name. I guarantee you the king knows it by now too.” She reached her hand across the table, palm up, and when Krey took it, she squeezed his fingers. “Why did you do it, Krey? Do me a favor and tell me the truth the first time.”
Krey sighed. At the same time, his stomach growled. That morning, he’d only eaten feathers and ice, magical fuel that provided no nutrition.
Min’s eyes narrowed, and she stood. “You need a sandwich. Then we’ll talk.” Five minutes later, she set a plate and a cup of water in front of Krey, then returned to her seat.
Like all Min’s sandwiches, it was a work of art—piles of greens, a slice of meat thick enough to be called a slab, and, dripping from the edges, the creamy, salty sauce she refused to share the recipe for. Krey picked up the sandwich and took a massive bite. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “I can explain.”
“And you will. But you’ll eat first. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. I know you used more magic than you should’ve.” Min watched Krey eat. When he was on his last bite, she said, “Looking better already. Let’s move to the library.”
Krey followed her. It was silly to call one room the library when books lined nearly every wall in the house. This room, however, had held the first bookshelf. Min and Krey entered and sat in cushioned chairs. They were upholstered in preday fabric, purchased from scavengers and pieced together like a quilt.
Even before he’d moved to this house, Krey had grown up hearing the story of his aunts’ library. When Min and Evie had met a quarter-century before, they’d discovered a mutual love of preday books. They’d married, bought this house, and installed a shelf in this room, hoping they’d eventually have enough money to fill it with collectible volumes.
Then Evie found success as a fashion designer. It was crazy what rich people would pay for outfits like the one the princess had been wearing in the square. The two women had now spent twenty years building the largest preday library in Cellerin. The book-filled home attracted scholars who leafed through treasured tomes while sitting on the very chairs now occupied by Krey and his aunt.
Min propped her elbows on her knees, and her gaze snared Krey’s. “Now, tell me why.”
“I need to find Zeisha.” Krey’s heel tapped the floor, his knee bobbing up and down. “That means I need answers, and the capital is the only place to find them.”
“Can you sit still for a minute or two?” Min asked, touching a hand to Krey’s knee. He lowered his heel to the floor, and she continued, “What answers do you need? You know Zeisha is in Cellerin City.”
Krey leaned back in the chair and rested his forehead in one hand, squeezing his temples. He took a deep breath and said, “She’s not there.”
“What do you mean?”
Krey shook his head and gritted his teeth against emotion he didn’t have time for. “Those people who came into town, saying the king sent them out to recruit apprentices—have you ever heard of the king doing that before?”
“No, but there’s no reason to doubt it. Zeisha has sent two letters to her parents.” Min’s voice was gentle. “She’s apprenticing with a master vine eater. She’s enjoying it.”
“I’ve read those letters! She didn’t write them, at least not willingly. For one thing, she used the term plant lyster. She’s not a snob; she calls herself a vine eater. And I know everyone thinks she’s breaking up with me, but if she were, she’d tell me herself. There’s something weird about all this.”
“Let’s say you’re right. I still don’t understand why you flew over the event today.”
Krey gripped his armrests hard, like he was about to propel himself out of his seat. “Those people who took her to the capital claimed to work for the king. That means someone in the government is protecting them. So I decided to put on the best show I could. I figured if the king saw my magic, he’d invite me back to the city to work for him or something. Once I got there, I’d find someone with information on Zeisha. If I was working for the king, maybe people would actually talk to me.”
“The resident cynic of our household willingly tried to impress the king.” Min gave him a sad smile. “You must really miss her.”
He ran his fingers through his tangled, black hair. “Do you have any idea how many damn letters I’ve written to government officials in the last six weeks, trying to figure out where Zeisha really is? Of course, nobody’s answered me. They don’t care about a girl from a small town!” Krey stood and turned away, swiping the palms of his hands over his wet eyes. “I’m catching a ride with the next trader who comes through. I’ll go to the city and figure it out from there.”
Before Min could respond, Evie’s voice reached their ears. “Krey? Are you here?”
“We’re in the library!” Min shouted.
Seconds later, Evie appeared in the doorway. Her full lips, so reminiscent of Krey’s mother’s, were pursed. “Krey, there are a couple of people here to see you.” She stepped in, followed by a man and woman, both wearing the black-and-blue uniforms of the Cellerin royal guard.
Krey threw his hands in the air. “Oh, by the stone, it’s not like I hurt anyone!”
“Well, you did take quite a fall,” the female guard said. “I thought for sure you scraped up your ego.”
The male guard coughed. Krey could swear he was covering up a laugh.
The female guard stood with her arms at her side, shoulders back. Her teasing voice turned officious. “Kreyven West, we’re here to escort you to a meeting with His Majesty, the King.”
IN THE DARK: 1
Zeisha shook the shoulder of the girl on the pallet next to hers.
Isla startled awake. “Huh?”
Not wanting to wake the others, Zeisha kept her voice low. “Did we already count tonight?”
“Oh . . . no. I don’t think so.”
Zeisha heard Isla sit up, though she couldn’t see her friend in the dark room. As she took off her right shoe and sock, Zeisha squeezed her eyes shut, trying to picture Isla. For a moment, a dim, blurry image filled her mind—a short girl with long, black hair—and then it was gone.
“It’s day seven,” Zeisha whispered. She found the end of the string she’d looped around the big toe of her right foot. After carefully unwinding it, she wrapped it around her second toe.
“How many weeks?” Isla asked in a sleepy voice.
Zeisha knew the answer but counted just the same, rubbing her fingers along the tiny, crescent-shaped scars on her ankle. One, two, three, four, five. “Six,” she said. Then she pressed her thumbnail into the skin above the previous week’s mark, gritting her teeth. An involuntary yelp exited her mouth as her nail broke the skin.
Isla’s hand found Zeisha’s arm, then moved to her shoulder. Her grip was tight and comforting.
“Thanks,” Zeisha whispered as she dug her nail farther into the skin, creating a deeper gouge. Then she pressed her index finger to the wound, releasing a long sigh.
Isla removed her hand, and her blanket rustled as she lay down.
When Zeisha was pretty sure the blood had clotted, she put on her sock and shoe and lay on her pallet. She placed the tip of her thumb in her mouth and used her front tooth, then her tongue, to clean out the blood under her nail. The metallic flavor made her gag, as it did every week.
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Acknowledgements
Publishing a book shouldn’t be a solitary endeavor! I love the community aspect of writing as I get feedback from many people along the way.
I can’t thank my alpha readers enough! They all waded through early versions of the book, complete with awful typos and undeveloped characters . . . and then they helped me make the book better. For this book, my alpha readers were Molly Norris, Ana Anderson, Eli Anderson (who also helped with one of Sep’s poems!), Cathy Norris, Melissa Lavaty, Kim Decker, Becky Brickman, Sarah Joy Green-Hart, DeDe Pollnow, Alex Pollnow, Stephanie Lynn, Alain Davis, Brooke Hunger, and Kristin Newton.
My beta-reader team agreed to read a more-polished but still unfinished version of the book. Their feedback really helped me make it better. Massive, huge, heartfelt thanks to Alain Davis, Ana Anderson, Anastasia Forrest, Ashley McCartney, Becky Brickman, Brenda Elliott, Danielle Ancona. Danielle Carriere. Eli Anderson, Erinne Lansing, Jenny Fox, Kim Decker, Kristin Newton, Lisa Henson, Mackenzie Bitz, Michelle Sundholm, Nikki Tuggy, Phil Gorski, Randi Rigby, Rebecca Odum, Robin Higham, Sean Norris Westmont, and Tracy Magouirk.
Thank you to @bcsayerlit and @KenzieMillar on Twitter, who gave me some much-needed feedback and encouragement as I developed Rona’s character.
Speaking of Twitter . . . shout out to all my friends in the #WritingCommunity there, including the various groups of writers I connect with through frequent private messages. You know who you are, and I hope you know what an encouragement you are to me!
I’ve dealt with anxiety for years, so Ellin’s struggles are close to my heart. Some of her coping techniques in the freezer came from the book The 10 Best-Ever Anxiety Management Techniques: Understanding How Your Brain Makes You Anxious and What You Can Do to Change It by Margaret Wehrenberg. I recommend it!
I ask newsletter readers and social media followers to contribute their name ideas for my books. Many of the character and location names in this book came from their suggestions! Here are the contributors, with the names they suggested in parentheses: Linda Pearman (Nomi, Arisa), Kris Adams (Septimus, Tyr, Stelios, Thyri, Tereza, Merak, Karel), Cheryl (Micha), Marie-Eve Mailhot (Toma), and Patrice Einsel (Pranav), and Cherie Osier (Rouven). Thank you all for sharing your creativity with me!
Mariah Sinclair (mariahsinclair.com and thecovervault.com), thank you for creating such ridiculously stunning covers for this whole series!
Thank you to God, who I hope to keep seeking my entire life. I love the love He gives me.
And thank you for reading! (If you made it this far, I’m truly impressed!)
-Carol Beth Anderson
Leander, Texas
2020
About the Author
Carol Beth Anderson is a native of Arizona and now lives in Leander, TX, outside Austin. She has a husband, two kids, a miniature schnauzer, and more fish than anyone knows what to do with. Besides writing, she loves baking sourdough bread, knitting, eating cookies-and-cream ice cream, and spending way too much time on Twitter.
The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy Page 28