“I choose to save Theron with you by my side. You are a friend and an ally who I will always trust with my life. But after this is over, after we are safe from Knox’s rule, I must start making decisions for myself. And the first one will be who I marry.” He pauses, shoulders slumping with the weight of not only his claim, but also the expectations of a kingdom—of a mother who needs him to lead with who she feels will serve best at his side. But even when we carve our own path, it’s those first few steps that are the hardest to take. “I can’t choose you, Penelope, not when your heart has already chosen someone else.”
His words, so perfect and full of truth, weigh like a stone upon my chest, when all he means is to set me free. “You’re right,” I whisper. “It wouldn’t be fair to us both, but I can’t leave you to fend to your mother and your kingdom all by yourself. Let’s not worry about it for now. Once we save your city, we’ll make our request then, just like we planned.”
“No.” His voice comes out firm, a rising storm against the trees. He shakes his head, lips twisting as he regrets his tone. “I mean, I’m sorry, but no.” This time, the words are feather soft, a quiet chime that draws me nearer still. “I need to make this known, right here, right now, or else I can’t go another step into these woods. I will not force you to love me, Penelope. I made you that promise long ago, and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I abandoned my word now.”
“Ian—”
“I release you,” he says, ending my argument before I can finish. “I release you because I want to choose my own path. I want to be happy on my own, with someone who chooses to be by my side.” He quiets, dipping his head while he tucks a hand behind my neck. The action alone freezes my heart, terrified that now, of all times, he’s going to try and cross the wrong barriers when we were just getting good at putting them up. But instead, he leans in close to my ear, his whisper a cool rush against my skin. “You are the strongest, wildest, bravest woman I know, and I am proud to call you my friend. So, release me, too, Penelope. Let us follow our own destiny, the best way we know how.”
A lingering chill runs down my neck, the words I’ve longed to hear blanketing me with their mist. To know that this kind, careful prince was just as trapped as me, and until he set his emotions aside, he couldn’t see what he’d be missing if he followed his kingdom’s wish. If he had settled for a life with me.
I pull back until our eyes meet. “I release you, Ian. You were never mine to keep.”
My words have barely hit the air before a visible weight lifts from Ian’s frame. A promise of his own, pinned down by a kingdom and a mother who needed her heir to secure their land. Except now, Ian doesn’t need me to do it. He’ll accomplish that all on his own.
“Then it’s settled. When we get back to the palace, I’ll let my mother and the people of Theron know of my decision. Of our decision. Together, we will defeat Knox, but we won’t marry. Instead, our alliance will be made of truth and friendship, just as every good alliance should. The people of Theron won’t need any convincing once they see our hearts.”
His speech, so bold and full of strength, lights like a flame in my chest, crawling from my pores and sprouting wings on my back. And finally, finally, I feel as though I could truly fly.
“Thank you,” I say, looping my arm around his and tugging him to where our partners in adventure await. “I mean it, Ian. You’ve been nothing but kind to me since the moment we met. I cannot promise a perfect ending, but I know good things are to come. For who could be more deserving of them than you?”
Ian pats my arm, looking up into the canopy of trees and searching for the hidden sun to guide us true. “I hope you’re right, Penelope, and I especially hope your cousin isn’t near as mad as I believe him to be.”
“You and me both,” I say.
Thirteen
We ride through midmorning, not a single soul in sight. It’s been hours since we crossed Theron’s boundaries, The Lost’s territory taking hold and swallowing us up, held captive in its snare. The trees around us bend and sway, their limbs casting shadow upon shadow where any light manages to squeak through. Aras lit his torch long ago, determined not to let us go unnoticed in this haunted wood.
Determined that Ian doesn’t go unnoticed as well.
The Theron prince is at the center of our plan, his kingdom’s colors shielding us from the eyes we know await in the trees. The ones that whistle or hoot every few feet, calling out to their master. Warning him of our presence. But if there is one thing I know about my cousin, it’s that he doesn’t need someone else to guide his steps.
He already had those planned years ago.
Ahead of us, Aras’ horse whinnies, its front hooves rearing up with apprehension. Aras tightens his grip on the reins, knuckles white with strain while he balances the torch in his other hand. Vivi’s shoulders stiffen, our mount whispering dangers of its own. Her cheek turns, mussed braid sliding against my chin. She doesn’t have to say a word for me to understand the fear in her eyes. Slowly, as if reaching out to catch a feather, I let my mind wander to our horse, hoping the whispers fill my mind as they now fill my sister’s. When they do, there is no doubt what they say.
We need to turn around. Immediately.
“What is it?” Aras blocks our path, his horse now turned and pointed toward the east, back in the direction from which we’ve come. Whether it’s the animal or Aras’ doing, I can’t tell, but I’m willing to bet it’s a healthy mixture of both. Beside us, Ian’s fingers twitch, a careful track to the sword at his hip. His gaze hovers above Aras’ left shoulder, a sudden shift in the shadows the only warning that we see.
Then it hits.
The soft whooshing sound breaks the silence, slicing it open and spilling terror in its wake. Ian shouts, his words garbled and strange against my sister’s screams, the world around me frozen except for the boy with the raven hair and a thick river of red running down his cheek.
The smell of burnt rust surrounds me, choking my throat and rotting my lungs. Visions of The Lost’s leader toy with my mind. The feel of his heavy corpse pressed against mine. The shiny gloss of his lifeless eyes. The blood caked under my nails as I clawed my way free. But somewhere, underneath the chaos and the hurt, a single thought breaks through the panic.
Aras will not meet his same fate.
My magic moves before I tell it to, the flames sweeping in a massive arch, building a wall of fire none too different from the one I used against Reeve so long ago. Vivi jumps from the horse, tugging me down as I fight to keep the wall steady. I flinch at her touch, unsure of where her screams begin and where they end. In my head, I hear them over and over, calling out like a warning I shouldn’t have missed. But as always, there’s no accusation in Vivi’s eyes, only a firm belief that I can manage the impossible.
I’m not sure if I can.
I’ve never held such a force under this kind of pressure—when the person I care most about in this world is sliding to his feet, waves of weakness shaking his knees as he stumbles to my side.
But my sister believes, so I must as well.
“I’ve got him,” Vivi says, pulling Aras to the ground before he falls of his own accord. Her hands flit to his neck, bird’s wings hovering over the wound.
I watch her, torn between dropping the fire so I can help Aras and keeping our shield. A wild laugh sounds through the orange and red haze, making my insides boil from within. A low growl leaves my throat, coaxing the flames higher still. Suddenly, my decision is made for me.
“You’re all right, Penelope.” Ian’s worried eyes swim into my vision, causing the flames to sputter and spark. He grips my shoulder, squeezing until he thinks I can hear. Until he thinks I won’t break. “You can let it go now, just as you did before. Tell the magic what to do—it’s here to serve your will.”
Let it go. Just as I did before. Except now I’ve built a wall to keep Reeve out, not in.
Slowly curling my fingers into a fist, I extinguish the flames at their tips, th
e heat still brewing even as I let them go. The magic reaches out, feeling for its master and using my heart to guide its path. Sensing my decision to hold firm, I feel its gentle caress against my chest, a promise to stay true to my wishes.
And I can’t afford to waste another minute.
When I drop to my knees, my hand flies to Aras’ cheek. The sticky warmth slides between my fingers, turning my insides out, but I don’t let go. Not for the boy who gives life to my heart.
“Aras!” His name comes out with a hiss, steam rising from the magic that continues to pour from my chest, monitoring the wall so I can attend to the slumped, hazy-eyed boy at my feet. “Aras!”
His chin tips up, lashes fluttering as he tries to take me in. His eyes roll and his head falls back, Ian’s swift hand the only thing that keeps him up. My thumb moves over the wound, a straight line from the tip of his ear down the side of his jaw. Not a deep cut, but enough to do damage if the weapon was laced.
“Clean the wound!” Ian barks, coming to the same conclusion a moment sooner than me. “The arrow must have been dipped in some sort of tonic.” He grabs a wet cloth from Vivi, the little sister turned efficient nurse, conjuring a magic of her own. The kind that conquers any fear and puts another’s safety first. “A sleeping tonic, from the looks of it, but we can’t be too sure. We’ve got to try to wash it out before it overpowers him.”
Aras’ head lulls back as Ian presses the cloth to his cut, squeezing water to clear the blood before scrubbing it against his skin. His lips part, mumbled pleas rising into the air. My finger stops his words, gentle against his ashen skin. “Be strong, Aras Renn of Orien. My cousin and I are about to have a little chat.”
“Brave? What are you—”
But then, Vivi’s words are gone, swallowed up by the fire as I walk through their wall of safety and into the dark forest that surrounds us. That same shadow shifts to my left, swift boots against an uneven ground. And this time, I don’t have to guess my next move, because my heart is not ruled by fear.
It’s ruled by anger.
“Find him,” I whisper against my palm, the flames twisting and pulling from my flesh as they prepare to follow my command. Rising into the air, my magic surges forward, a steady arrow ready to make a cut of its own. But this arrow won’t cut—it will pin.
I hear his scream when the fire finally finds its mark. Frustration and fury lines his voice as he pushes against the flames that now serve as his cage. I take my time, walking up to the wall of magic. A smile tingles on my lips as I watch him squirm. He’s never been caught like this, I realize. Never been made to pay for his honest mistakes. Not while he was awake, anyway.
Until now.
“Is this how it felt the last time when you woke up to a very different wall of flame, boxing you in until I could escape your crazed design? The one where you stole any semblance of family love between us, tearing it in my face for all to see? And while I saved myself, it was the prince—the very same one you claimed to follow—who had to nurse me back from your wounds. Strange, isn’t it? Tragic even, that we should have to meet again in such a dangerously similar way. Tell me, Reeve. How bright does your love burn for me now?”
The flames part at my movement, knowing my steps as if they were their own. Inside, Reeve awaits. His short, blond hair has grown into loose curls around his head, making him look so much like that frightening little boy from the woods who haunted me in my sleep. He sneers as the wall closes at my back, locking us in a cage that won’t break away until we come to some sort of truce. A bond between cousins where one doesn’t end up drifting away in the current of the stars.
“What’s wrong, cousin? Do you not speak? Or has the power of one girl’s fire truly stolen your tongue?”
“You’re stronger.” It’s the only words I get, not spit out of hate, but of wonder. I’m not falling at his feet, slipping away into the endless pool of black that once called my name every time I pushed my magic to its brink.
I roll my shoulders back, chin held high as my eyes continue to bore into his. Yes, I am stronger, and this is only the beginning.
“You must really fancy him,” he says, careful to avoid the flames as he shoves a thumb toward my initial ring of fire.
My eyes follow his motion, the flames of the wall parting at my will, giving a glimpse of the barrier still holding strong. At my silent command, they shift back together, weaving a fabric even Ian’s magic couldn’t break.
“And you’d do well to remember it.”
A wide grin lights up his face, disarming, yet welcoming. “I like this new Brave. She might actually be of some use.”
“If you’re referring to my ability to take down my father and anyone else who threatens the ones I love, you’re right.”
He steps forward, pride and hunger washing his pale face. He holds out his hand, firm and steady. Unafraid. “It’s nice to meet you, cousin. My name is Reeve.”
The walls of flame fall away, nothing but a sweet smoke left drifting in their wake, floating to the sky and disappearing into the night like my mad cousin’s hate. Hate he allows to consume him. Guide his every step.
Hate I can understand. Hate I wish to undo.
My hand falls into his, blistering heat against the bitter cold. “It’s nice to meet you, Reeve. My name’s Brave, but you can call me Penelope.”
A heavy laugh sounds in his chest. He smiles, lightening the darkness in his face. But the happiness is short-lived, replaced by surprise when a tiny flame begins to take root in his hair. Frantic, he bats at the spark, cool extinguishing the heat before it can reach his scalp. “What was that?”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I should probably mention my magic needs a little work.” Reeve’s head pops up, eyes widening when he takes in my little sister with the smoke still spiraling from her hand. “It has a mind of its own, really, and it’s taken a liking to imbeciles who run around shooting poisoned arrows in the woods. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“You?” His points at her hand, years of careful planning turned on its head at the sight of his little cousin—the girl who has just achieved the impossible. If he’s not careful, she may do more than tinge his hair. “But that can’t be. You’re the youngest. The magic doesn’t—”
“Funnel down into capable hands?” She shakes her head, brows arching as she takes him in. She’s enjoying this, and Ashen knows she deserves it. “Speaking of hands, aren’t you going to clasp mine? Make our family truce official?”
Reeve eyes her outstretched hand, mistrust darkening his gaze. “Can you control it enough for us to touch?”
Vivi shrugs, indifference lining her tone. “That depends on if you make me mad or not, and right now, you’re pushing my patience.”
Reeve reaches out, their hands meeting with a healthy burst of steam. He looks to me, expression souring by the second. “I can’t believe there are two of you. I mean, this is great news when it comes to Knox, but for me…”
“Don’t worry,” Vivi says, looping her arm around Reeve’s and tugging him toward his prince. “As your cousin, I will always have your back.”
“No other words have frightened me more,” he replies.
Fourteen
The tonic was, in fact, of the sleeping variety. While Reeve and a select group of his men have been prattling on with Ian, discussing our newest plan for The Lost to distract Orien’s army, Aras has been snoozing away. Eyes closed tight and mouth slightly ajar, dreaming of a place where the constant threat of forced sleep isn’t banging at every door. The cut along his jaw is barely visible now, making it hard to believe a single arrow could knock him out for this long.
So, as the stars would have it, I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting on him to wake up and yawn my name. It’s boring here, without his flavor to liven discussions up a bit. I miss his raucous grin, the very one that knocks me to my feet and makes me want to come up swinging. I miss his witty remarks that would undoubtedly sting Reeve where it hurts
the most, just as Reeve’s arrow barely missed where it counts the most.
I just plain miss him.
Reeve looks up from his place around the fire, watching my fingers as they reach out, pushing a curl from Aras’ brow. His features soften, or at least as much as they’re allowed, and his head dips in the slightest of apologies. He stills, staring at me with those hawkish eyes of his, until I give a quick nod and he turns away again.
When we had first arrived back at his camp, Reeve was quick to explain that he never meant any of us harm. He simply wanted to teach Aras a lesson—mainly being that he shouldn’t have pinned their leader through the neck so long ago. Of course, I was quick to point out that had Aras not acted as he did that fateful day, I would be dead, along with his dream of ever putting an end to Knox.
A minor issue, Reeve had said, to which Vivi had nearly burned him again. Although I’ve somewhat forgiven my cousin, content to secure his help and leave him forever, I cannot say the same for Aras.
It may be best if my dear cousin is far away by the time Aras comes around.
“Still sleeping like an angel, is he?” Ian walks up, taking a seat on the log where I wait beside Aras. I allow a tight smile, determined not to show my worry. Ian isn’t easily fooled. “Everything will work out for the best, Penelope. Actually, I think it may be the best if Aras and Reeve don’t have any interactions at all. Who knows? Maybe this was the stars, intervening on our behalf.” He knocks his shoulder against my own, teasing the fear out of my bones. “I mean it. If Reeve hadn’t have made such a scene, we may have never been able to test your magic in such an authentic setting.”
Authentic. Yes, I’d say watching Aras take a nose dive to the ground is about as real as it gets.
“Speaking of scenes,” he continues, “your fire was quite the show.”
This time, my grin is genuine. “Fires, you mean. As in more than one.”
“And hardy ones at that. I half expected to find you passed out at Reeve’s feet when the flames finally fell, but I should know better than to think any less of your magic. You’ve worked hard, Penelope, and it shows.”
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