by Nina Walker
Next to him, Bram rolls his eyes and I still, a little shocked. I almost want to laugh but I don’t dare!
Silas and the King have been engaged in hearty conversation all night, going on about our greatest enemies, an army of warlocks who call themselves The Sovereign Occultists. The more those two drink, the less sense they make as they try to piece together war strategy. The King’s round cheeks grow rosier as he slurps more wine, a stream of it running down his chin without notice. He is the older, and fatter, version of Silas.
“We can’t come to anyone’s rescue right now,” Silas continues. “Nor is that our duty. We must keep our borders strong and our armies numerous, as we’ve been doing. Should they dare attempt to brave the wards and cross into our territory, we’ll be ready for them.”
It’s the same old story we’ve been hearing for years.
Owen catches my pained expression from across the table and waggles his eyebrows until I do giggle. This kind of behavior is exactly why he and I picked Thursday nights as our weekly midnight flight. It’s easy to slip away unnoticed once the meal is complete and when those who would care about our whereabouts are either busy sleeping off their hangovers or sleeping with each other. Plus, by the end of these nights, I’d do just about anything to get away from the castle.
A servant dressed in black pads over, presenting a silver plate of steaming blueberry pie. The aroma is tart and sweet and perfect but my mouth doesn’t water. I feign enjoyment as I pick at it, but inside, I’m a bundle of nerves, waiting to be excused—waiting for a few hours of peace. I set down my fork and tuck my arms in close to my bodice. The vast room has grown chilly and outside the rain smatters against the stone walls and glass window panes. It won’t stop Owen and I tonight. He lives for water and I can navigate any element with ease.
“Owen,” the King’s voice breaks through the chatter. “What are your thoughts on all of this?”
I expect Owen to shrug or offer up a joke. I suspect his family does too, because we all look surprised at his answer.
“The Occultists have taken over our entire realm save for our kingdom.” Owen’s face changes, turning serious. His blue eyes deepening, his gaze hardening. A blonde curl drops across his forehead as he leans in. “It’s only a matter of time before they make another move on us.”
“Well, I could have told you that,” Silas scoffs. “They want our lands. They want to destroy us.”
“But it’s not just our lands that they want,” Owen replies. “Nor do I truly believe they wish to destroy all the Dragon Blessed, not when they need us.”
“What else could they want?” The King asks, growing just as serious as his sons. The room quiets and curiosities are piqued. Rain pitters against the windows.
“The human realm,” Owen offers.
His answer is met with a spattering of laughter.
“What could they possibly want with a useless realm where the magic is so stifled?” Silas challenges. And it’s true. In the human realm, nobody’s magic is strong. Many lose it entirely. It’s considered a terrible punishment to be sent there. But...
“It makes sense,” I cut in, my voice rising as I realize what Owen means by all this. All eyes turn on me, a mix of puzzlement and irritation. Women aren’t supposed to talk politics around here. “As far as we know, only the Dragon Blessed can move between the realms, but is it possible we could take an Occultist with us? They are born of magic. Sure, they lack our same elemental magic, but that doesn’t mean it would be impossible. Maybe they could use us to somehow boost their spells.”
Throughout our realm there are hidden ley lines where portals meet. Those with elemental blood can use these portals to travel between this magical realm and the human one. But it’s rare anyone does—nobody has good reason to leave. But maybe the Occultists feel divinely called to travel to the non-magic realm for some reason or another. Those wizards are known to be crazy, afterall. Owen could be right.
“They’re thirsty to extend their rule and enforce their religion on others,” Bram adds nonchalantly, speaking for the first time all night. He’s so quiet and easily overlooked, that people often forget he’s there.
His interjection quiets the room even further. Bram might not get a lot of respect when it comes to magic, but everyone knows that when it comes to logic, he’s the smartest person in the room. He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I’ve been considering this for a while, and I have to say I agree. Why wouldn’t the Occultists want to take over the human realm? It’s the next logical step, assuming they can get to us first. They’ll need the Dragon Blessed to get them through the portals, but I do think it’s possible that ruling the human realm as well as this one could be their end goal.”
Because Bram isn’t Dragon Blessed, he isn’t always taken seriously. Dragons don’t shift until reaching the age of puberty, around twelve or thirteen years old. And even then we don’t exhibit any elementals right away. Those take time to develop, if they’re going to develop at all, which they don’t for most shifters. I was no exception to waiting. It wasn’t easy to be patient, to wait for my first shift, for the powers that followed. But in time, everything happened. It happened for Dean, for Silas and Owen, too.
But it never happened for Bram.
Because of that, not everyone took him seriously. But the King has always been smarter than to underestimate his son. The King looks at each of us now, from one to the next, to the next, until his eyes finally land on me. They match Owen’s, the son with his legacy element. And he smiles broadly, a light seeming to go off in his mind. “Princess Khali, I didn’t realize what a good team you and Owen make together. Perhaps I’ll need to rethink my plans for your birthday?”
My heart leaps, and I nearly choke on my breath. Do I dare to hope it could be true? It’s not that I dislike Silas––who is turning so scarlet, his eyes are bulging from his head––it’s that Owen is my best friend. I truly believe our relationship could one day shift to love, but if not, life wouldn’t be bad with him as my husband. Once king, he would let me fly whenever I wanted, would do anything to give me a life of happiness.
“Owen might be the perfect king to your queen,” Queen Brysta speaks up, fully awake now and with a happy twinkle in her eye. She rarely offers an opinion, rarely speaks at all. She’s my opposite in that way and my jaw drops at her admission.
My mother kicks at me under the table and I close my mouth and smile meekly. Mother has always said love is not in the cards for me, that I was dealt a much better hand. Silas is her choice to play that hand best. But is it so wrong to want both love and respect? I clear my throat and gather my courage, laying those cards out on the table for everyone to see.
“I think so, too.”
Everything has changed.
That night, after Owen and I spend a glorious hour racing around the countryside, we shift back into our human forms and face each other. We stand next to the lake’s edge, and I try to ignore the bubbling fear I always have around water. I step away from it’s black surface and look at my best friend.
We can’t wait a moment longer—we have to figure this out. The rain has stopped but the air isn’t clear; nothing is clear. Things between us are murkier than ever. Water drips down his face in long rivulets. His clothes are soaked, his blonde shaggy hair matted to his cheeks. I’m also soaked to the bone, but I don’t feel an ounce of cold. All I feel is the change—the change between us.
He feels it, too.
Even in the darkness, I can see it in his crystalline gaze. The way he looks at me now is entirely different, like he’s seeing me for the first time. But is it for the better? I can’t read him well enough right now to say. And that is the part that kills me. I’ve always been able to read Owen before. What if this is the moment where he rejects me?
His eyes flick to my lips.
I take a step back. No. We can’t risk it. Especially now that there’s a chance for us.
I clear my throat. “I hope that was okay,�
� I say awkwardly. “What I said tonight. About us.”
He exhales and turns away, peering into the night, running a hand through his wet hair. I want so badly to ask him what he’s thinking, but I don’t say a word. We stand side by side, a few feet from the lake’s edge. The landscape is smooth, a line of gray on black, save for the crest of the castle wall two miles behind us. The clouds obscure the stars and moon, darkening everything more than normal. The air is thick with humidity, the ground beneath our boots sticky with clopping mud.
“I never wanted to be king,” he admits quietly. “My whole life, I wanted it to be Dean, and then when he left, Silas.” He tilts his head toward me and smiles. “You know me. I’ve always wanted to be free, to travel, to be my own man. Being king comes with so much responsibility.”
So he’s rejecting me after all. I’m met with mixed emotions. Sadness for myself, but love for my friend. I can understand his need for freedom. I want that for him, too.
“If you don’t want it,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I would never force it on you. Only one of us has to bear that responsibility. And Silas will make a fine king.”
“I’m not finished,” Owen says, smiling again. “I never wanted to be king. But I’ve always wanted you.”
I blink, my heart skipping.
“I can’t have one without the other,” he continues, inching closer, “but I never thought I would get either, so I didn’t even try to get you, and I certainly didn’t try to get the throne.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage. But I smile, too. Ultimately, I want my friend to be happy. I want what’s best for him, even if sadness sweeps through me at the thought.
“I want to kiss you right now, but I won’t. I won’t risk it even though it’s killing me. I won’t risk it, because even though we’re alone now, once I start, I know there will be no possible way I could stop and we will get caught.” He reaches out and takes a lock of my hair between his fingers, twisting it. “So I’ll wait… and I’ll start trying.”
This time, my smile is real.
Thunder cracks across the landscape. Lightning flashes through the darkness, brightening everything for the briefest of moments. Owen and I jump apart and search the sky. My nerves tangle into knotted fear, recognizing the storm for what it is: magic. A massive black dragon appears between the clouds and swoops down, landing feet away from us with practiced grace. The air around him crackles with electricity as Silas shifts into his human form. He’s dressed head to toe in black, blending with the night, but there’s hatred on his face and that stands out.
“There you two are,” he sneers. “I thought I might find you out here.”
Neither of us speak.
He steps closer, the hem of his long black cape brushing the mud. “Oh, you didn’t think I knew about your little Thursday night illegal activities, did you?”
Owen raises his hands. “It’s not what it looks like, it’s just for fun.”
“I thought it was just for fun.” He turns on Owen, pointing a long finger. “I overlooked it because I care about both of you and I trusted you to be an honorable man. But I can’t overlook it anymore, now can I?”
“What do you mean?” I challenge, widening my stance. “You’re not going to turn us in, are you?”
Silas ignores me, stalking toward his twin. “You just couldn’t let me have it, could you? You saw that I was going to be given the throne and you had to get in the way, even though everyone knows I’m the best man for the job.”
“It’s not like that,” Owen replies, his voice growing dark, but Silas doesn’t care, he moves in close anyway, rage rolling off him in waves.
I expect that at any minute, they’ll fight. Brother on brother. It will be a wild mess of crunching bones and flying limbs and hurled insults, and it could take a turn for the worse, with Silas drawing on his air elemental and Owen his water. But I’ve seen the brothers fight before. First as boyish children, then as sparring young adults, and it’s nothing I can’t break apart with my magic if it comes to that.
What I don’t expect is the knife.
Silas draws it from his pocket so quickly I nearly miss it. He rushes forward, slicing the blade straight across his brother’s throat in one quick motion. Zero hesitation. I gasp, disbelieving. This isn’t real. But it is. It is. Silas cut Owen wide open, the blood pouring from the wound too fast to comprehend.
Owen’s eyes are wide as saucers as he crumples to the mud.
I scream, shock slamming through my body, and charge forward. I have to save Owen. Somehow. I have to help. Have to stop Silas. Have to do something!
Silas jumps out of my way and I fall into the mud, grasping Owen’s lifeless body in my arms. He’s still warm, but he’s not there anymore. His eyes are vacant. There’s too much blood. His soul has been sliced from his body and I can’t believe this. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.
“What did you do?” I cry up at Silas. The rain has started again, heavier than before. This time, I feel the chill, feel it right past my bones and down into my very soul. “You killed him!”
Silas takes a step back, his eyes round and still. At first I think he’s realized what he’s done, regretful. But then his eyes thin and he glares at me through thick lashes. “Did I?” he spits back. “No elemental powers were used here. Anyone could have slit his throat had they caught him by surprise.”
“What?” I sputter through hot tears mixing with the rain.
“My brother shouldn’t have been so stupid as to sneak out here at night. And what with our enemies out to get us? Terribly careless. Senseless tragedy. This could start a war.”
He’s going to deny what he did? I swallow back bile as the realization sinks in. He’s not only going to deny that he murdered his brother, but use it to feed his political aspirations. He pretends that all he wants is to protect our borders to keep his father happy. But it’s Silas. Of course, he wants more.
“How could you? You’re a monster!” I choke out.
“How could I?” He shakes his head, his eyes filled with certainty. “No. How could he? How could my own brother betray me? How could he suck you into his clutches like that when he knew I was going to be crowned? I did what I had to do for the betterment of this kingdom and for your own safety, Khali. In time, you’ll see I had no choice. He made me do it.”
I pull Owen’s limp body into my lap. My tears run cold and loathing consumes my every word. “You’ll never be king. I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done here tonight, Silas. You have murdered a royal—your own brother. You will be executed for this.”
“Nobody will believe you,” he sneers. “I have an airtight alibi already in place at this very moment. And actually, I’m certain everyone will blame you for Owen’s unfortunate death if you present lies about me. Once they discover he was out here with you, so you could fly around like a couple of lovesick idiots, ignoring the danger, ignoring the law, they’ll know it was your fault my brother was killed.”
“Murdered,” I spit back. I don’t want to believe one foul word, don’t want to listen to his murderous mouth utter another lie. But a small part of me wonders if he could be right. Will they blame me? Should I blame myself?
We never should have come out here. Never.
I glare up at Silas, the weight of my bad choices a million pounds on my heart. “No matter what happens, mark my words, you will never be my husband.”
He smirks. “I’m all you have left, sweetheart. Four more months, and you’re mine.”
I shake my head.
“And one more thing,” he adds. “If you tell anyone about this, mark my words, everyone you love will end up like Owen.”
I’m going to be sick. I always knew he was intense, but never did I imagine he was capable of something like this.
He smiles mockingly, blows me a kiss, then shifts back into his dragon form.
I don’t watch him go.
I can barely see through the tears. Violent sobs take over
my body as I hold my friend for the last time. Owen’s face is so pale now, it’s almost white. His dead eyes are open, lifeless, peering into the afterlife beyond. Water drips down his cheeks. Not tears. Rain. Rain that will never wash away this moment or the terrible way his brother stole everything from us.
7
Hazel
I hold the finished application for The Roasted Bean in my hand as I walk down Main Street—a girl on a mission. I’ll turn it in, get the job, and that will be that. I should smile, but I can’t. All I can feel is sadness. Behind me, Kathrine’s ghost follows in my footsteps. She’s been tailing me all day and my heart is broken for her. There’s nothing I can do. She keeps sending me images from her life, but they’re just random, and none seem to have anything to do with what happened to her. I don’t know what I can do to help her or erase the guilt I feel.
At least for now, Cora, Macy, and I have made a pact not to go anywhere alone, unless it’s out in public. I haven’t told them about my curse, they don’t know what I know, but at this point, they’re not the only ones who believe Kathrine is dead.
The smell of coffee leads me to my destination, but just before I get there, something stops me cold in my tracks, like cement has been poured around my boots. I stare across the street at The Flowering Chakra shop. The store sign’s script is purple and flowy with the “o” in “flower” shaped like a daisy. It’s actually pretty cute. The place has a welcoming energy about it that’s undeniable.
It kind of pisses me off.
It pisses me off because it pulls me in like a magnet and before I know it, I’m crossing the quaint little street. I stand right in front of the cute red brick shop, my nose pressed to the front window. Hoping to see what? I don’t know. An answer to everything, maybe. As if that’ll happen. Katherine stands with me.
Inside are several rows of glass cases filled with jewelry and crystals of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Geometric art pieces made from a variety of metals hang from the ceiling, twirling gently. Two large distressed wooden tables stand centered in the airy space with a variety of trinkets expertly laid across the top. A row of matching bookshelves lines the back of the shop. I expected clutter. But this is organized. Loved.