Water House

by Shelly Jarvis

  Cassian.

  He was last in line, and as he passed those cheering for their houses, they saw the emblem missing from his arm. Ros knew that chatter of the Night house mage would’ve already made it to the townsfolk, but seeing their awe in person was quite another matter.

  The men stopped in front of the royal box. Without the king present to give direction, the order of performance should fall to Sariyah. Ros looked at her to say as much, but the expression on her mother’s face was one of pure horror. Her features were unguarded and she was clearly unable to take the advice she’d just given her daughters.

  Rosalinde leaned to Elsabet and said, “Get her back to the castle.”

  Then she stood and stepped into the sunlight for all the people to see. If they were surprised to see her, they didn’t show it. Instead they cheered louder than they had for the competitors. Ros smiled and waved at her people, letting her nerves calm while they applauded.

  When they quieted, she called, “My fine Talabriheans, it is my deepest pleasure to stand before you today, with my new husband. Can someone please tell me which one he is?”

  The stands erupted in laughter, in the chanting of their favorite's names, in chanting of her own name. She smiled and continued, “We will begin the games with Air, followed by Earth, then Fire, and finally, my honored Water house.”

  Though there were cheers, the murmuring returned. Ros raised her hands to quiet them and said, “Have I forgotten someone?” She laughed when she saw a little boy jumping up and down as he pointed at Cassian. She met the dark mage’s eyes as she said, “Ah, yes, our mysterious competitor from Night. As all things must come to an end as darkness falls, so shall we end our opening ceremonies with the wielder of Darkness.”

  The crowd seemed pleased with her pronouncement, so she added, “Let the Great Match begin!”

  Chapter 9

  The competitors filed away, leaving the first man from Air house, Merritt Mahone. Ros tried to write his name on a card when he was announced so that she might give him a score based on his abilities, but her hands were trembling. She wished she hadn’t sent Larkin away. She needed someone, anyone to be with her right now.

  But she was alone and she had to be strong. It was what her mother wanted and what her people needed. She may only be a princess right now, but someday she would lead them. She wasn’t sure she was ready to do that, but right now she didn’t have much choice. So she worked to settle her nerves, knowing that despite it all, she had to be here, in this moment for her people.

  Rosalinde placed her hands on her legs and took several deep breaths. She watched Merritt perform, though she found it hard to concentrate on him. His focus was Gales, and he had placed colored paper through the arena that he was sending flying in beautiful designs through the air above him. It was lovely, but nothing she hadn’t seen before. Nothing to distract her from her missing father and a mother who looked like a lost child.

  She gave him an average score as the next mage took his place. Graeme, the one who had flown in on a phoenix of air. She was unsurprised, but still delighted, when he conjured his nearly invisible bird to fly around the stands. He let the phoenix fly up, up, up until he was barely a dot in the sky.

  And then he fell.

  The crowd gasped, Ros along with them, lost in the seconds that ticked by as Graeme plummeted towards the ground. At the last second, his phoenix swooped up and plucked him from the air, mere inches from death.

  The stands erupted in applause, his name echoing through the arena. Graeme flew his bird slowly past the royal box and blew a kiss at Rosalinde, sending the crowd into an uproar. With his death-defying opening display, Graeme had just made himself a frontrunner.

  Ros gave him highest marks. Not only had she enjoyed the thrill of his performance, but she had watched him hold the people in the palm of his hand. He went from an unknown participant to their favorite in seconds. A king should be able to sway the people to his side, even if there was a little trickery involved.

  It also helped that he was rather handsome. His dark hair was thick and swept back from his face as he sailed through the air. He was clean shaven, with a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. As he made another pass by the royal box, Rosalinde saw his bright blue eyes aglow with excitement, and perhaps a little mischief.

  It was easier to pay attention after Graeme’s performance. Though she couldn’t fight the worries tumbling over one another in the back of her head, she could quiet them for a while and give her attention to the future king of Talabrih, whoever he might be.

  The final mage from Air house was Jericho Tevachaly. Ros had known him all her life, had even had a crush on him when they were in their early teens. Jericho’s gift was a rare one among the Air house: Spirit Projection. He stood in the center of the arena, while a faint silver version of himself walked through the crowd. It spooked quite a few people at first, until his spirit started dancing. Spirit-Jericho popped up throughout the stadium, even in the royal box beside Ros, determined to make the crowd laugh with his boisterous kicks and lewd thrusts. By the end, he had them eating from the palm of his hand.

  Ros liked Jericho and had always found him to be enjoyable company. Of all those competing, she was certain he was the one who would be the most fun. But then she thought about what Larkin had said. A king had to be more. She rated him slightly higher than Merritt, but Graeme still led the pack.

  Next came Earth house. Beckett, the Botanical Elementalist, dazzled the crowd with flowering vines that snaked through the stands, over handrails, and trailed down into the arena. They converged in the center to encircle a massive willow tree that sprouted from the arena floor. The willow was far larger than a natural tree, its branches spreading wide across the space until it formed a canopy over the whole assembly, blocking out the slightest hint of sunlight.

  Ros wished her mother or Elsa had been there to see him. They would have a better idea of how hard he had worked on his show, and perhaps a better appreciation for his skill. Without their input, she ranked him equally with the first Air mage.

  A Seismic mage came next, sending the whole arena shaking. After only a few seconds, a small child fell from the stands due to their shaking. Graeme and his air phoenix swooped up and saved the child from injury, and Graeme used the opportunity to sail the little boy around the arena as the crowd chanted his name, before delivering the frightened and exhilarated child back to his parents. The Seismic mage was booed from the arena, his performance ended before it had a chance to really start.

  The final contestant from Earth house was Lyzandor Zolto, Larkin’s older brother. Ros watched him with interest, both because he was her best friend’s brother and because of what Elsa had said about him having feelings for her. She couldn’t say whether or not it would’ve mattered if she’d known about his alleged feelings before now, but there was at least a small part of her that was looking at him a little differently.

  She had to admit, her mother was right about him growing into his looks. Zandor had not always been handsome. As kids, he had never seemed to fit right inside his body. He was the shortest of the bunch, always struggling to be accepted by the “big kids” who were usually younger than him. When they hit their teens, Zandor sprouted up before anyone else, turning into a gangly, skinny mess.

  Now though...damn...his body was just right. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles pressing against the standard black uniform and filling it out a bit more than the other men did. He kept his head smooth, though his face sported stubble, as if he hadn’t shaved for a few days. He had the same high cheekbones as his sister, the same caramel eyes. But his jaw was squared where hers was rounded, his lips not as plump but definitely bitable.

  Rosalinde shook away all thoughts of Zandor’s lips. That was a road she could not go down, would not go down. Though she and Larkin had never expressly talked about such things, she felt like it was automatically part of the deal when you became best friends. No matter what, she couldn’t choose Z
andor.

  But then he began his performance. It was like nothing she’d ever seen. Zandor and Larkin were both metal wielders. She’d seen them work before, but not like this. She’d always thought they had to start with metal to create, never realizing they could make the metal as well.

  And that’s what Zandor did. He drew particles of metal from the ground, specs of minerals flying through the air, creating a miniature light show as they swirled in the sunlight. It was enchanting. Ros found herself leaning forward on the railing, watching the gleam of metal as it sailed through the air above her. It wasn’t until the metal stopped moving that she looked down to Zandor and realized what he had done with it.

  In the center of the arena was a statue, a perfect replica of Rosalinde. She covered her mouth with her hand, surprised and overwhelmed at the swell of emotion in her chest. She moved out of the royal box and descended the steps. The arena was silent as she moved, as if every person held their breath, waiting to see what she would do.

  She had gone about halfway down when Graeme stepped into the air in front of her, holding out his hand for her to join him on the phoenix. She took his hand, accepting his kindness as he conveyed her down to the arena floor. After landing, Graeme withdrew without a word, leaving her face to face with Zandor and his creation.

  Ros walked around the statue, taking in each tiny detail. This was not the work of someone who had seen her from a distance; no, this was a creation from someone who knew her intimately, who had studied every facet of her features and found them to be worthy of attention.

  Zandor had been quiet as she walked around the statue, but when she completed her circle and stopped in front of him, he asked, “Do you like it?”

  Ros felt a bubble of laughter rise out of her throat. “Like it? Zandor, it’s unbelievable. It’s magnificent. I love it.”

  Zandor smiled broadly and said, “I’m glad. It took me awhile to get it perfect.”

  “It’s not quite right,” she said. “This version is prettier. She more confident than I could ever be. This is the version of me I wish I could be.”

  “That’s who I always see when I look at you, Rosalinde. It’s hard to believe you don’t see it, too.”

  His words caught her off guard. Ros always thought people saw her the same way she did: clumsy, nervous, easily embarrassed. To hear him say that he saw her in such a magnificent way every time he saw her...she had no words.

  She stepped towards him and motioned for him to lean down. Ros said, “Thank you,” and pressed her lips to his cheek.

  The crowd went wild.

  She took a step back, still very close to him, and stared up into his eyes. Through all the people chanting his name, the yells and cheers and catcalling, she barely heard Zandor say, “You’re welcome, my love.”

  Rosalinde’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes met his as she tried to puzzle out his words, his true meaning. Had he truly felt this way for so long without her knowing or was this just part of the performance? But no, Zandor wouldn’t say such a thing without meaning it. It wasn’t who he was.

  Before she could respond—but what could she say?—Graeme was beside her, offering his hand to return her to the booth. She looked over her shoulder as the statue was returned to the earth from whence it came. It filled her with sadness, but also a strange sort of peace.

  She gave Zandor the highest score possible. Larkin might not agree with that decision, but in the end, she needed to follow her heart. Perhaps her heart was leading her to Lyzandor Zolto.

  Chapter 10

  When red-haired Nariq the Combustion mage made his way into the arena, Ros almost felt sorry for him. His tricks were fun and enjoyable to watch but, as if reading her mood, the crowd wasn’t interested.

  Like Ros, their thoughts were still on the boy from Earth house, the boy who had never been anything more than a boy to her. She looked down to the edge of the arena where the competing mages watched after they had performed. Lyzandor Zolto certainly wasn’t a boy any longer.

  Ros gave Nariq a mediocre score, though in truth she’d spent more time watching Zandor’s profile as he watched the show than actually paying attention to Nariq.

  When the herald announced the Fire house cousins as one performance, Rosalinde perked up. She’d never seen two competitors join together, even if they were related. Showing individual skill was how you stood out. But Dryden and Florian le Fevre were always together, always playing off one another in every other aspect of their lives, so why should this be a surprise?

  They emerged from opposing sides of the stadium moving towards one another. There was a strangeness to their movements, almost as if they were part of some ethereal dance. One would move forward, the other back, hands swaying above them as if they could repel and attract the other.

  The crowd seemed confused by their actions. Their voices rose to muttering as they turned against the mages. There was no display of power, no strength to judge or humor to laugh at. To Rosalinde’s surprise, she even heard booing.

  She crossed her arms over her chest as she began to take on the same attitude as the crowd. If this was the kind of performance they thought would impress her—

  Crack!

  Thunder clapped around them as lightning repeatedly flashed above the stadium, arcing overhead like a dome of electricity. Ros looked down at the mages standing in the center of the ring, hands joined above their heads. When their touch broke, the thunder stopped its deafening roar and the lightning stopped arcing above.

  Dryden and Florian moved away from each other, weaving forward and backward, leaning in and away. This time, the crowd watched with more attention, eager for the moment their hands touched. When the thunder and lightning exploded above the stadium, the people erupted in cheers. The lightning danced above in patterns and designs unlike anything Ros had ever seen. The thunder echoed and crashed and boomed in a cacophony of sound, a symphony built from nature’s melody.

  It was a beautiful performance. The rhythm and wake of their movements was a surprising element that Ros found herself enjoying more and more as they continued. But when it came time to judge, she had a hard time with her score. Yes, it was lovely and a great display of teamwork, but she wondered what would have happened if they had performed as individuals. Without the drama of their joint performance, would it have been flat?

  She couldn’t marry them both, and didn’t want to judge them both as one. Ultimately, she gave them the lowest scores she had thus far simply because it didn’t feel right to score them higher when the other Elementalists didn’t have the benefit of a partner.

  Finally, Rosalinde’s own house performed. The Water mages were spectacular, as she expected. Elsa had predicted a strong display from William Delaney’s Hurricane powers, and she had been right. He had a mastery over the element that was far superior to many of the strongest mages Ros had ever seen. The Rain mage, Nicolai Bardeaux, was a powerhouse as well. Ros was proud of her house’s performance.

  The last Elementalist from Water house was a quiet man with whom Ros was only slightly acquainted. Teague Vannoy was a Healer, and she had seen him in the medical center when she’d been with her father, but her only interaction with him had been the occasional nod of acknowledgement. When he came into the arena, his gentle demeanor remained as calm as always.

  Ros was worried, unsure what he could do. She’d seen her father perform miracles, knew there were many mages capable of immense healing magic, but she had no idea how he would show that in the ring.

  Then he held up his hands and began to turn in a circle. Ros watched with rapt attention, but nothing happened.

  A scream pierced the air. Another. Three, four, a dozen. Rosalinde’s eyes flicked throughout the stadium as people jumped to their feet sobbing, yelling, clapping. She watched them embraced by those around them as they all cried together. She looked back down to the man who continued to spin, eyes closed, face upturned towards the sky.

  He was healing them. All of them.
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br />   Ros had never seen anything like it. In fact, the very idea was unheard of. Her father was a skilled Elementalist and could only heal two, maybe three at once if their wounds were minor. This man was healing dozens.

  There was a collective gasp as Teague hit the ground. Two Water house medics ran to his side. The whole arena watched with bated breath until finally, finally one gave a thumbs up to the crowd. The Elementalist had clearly exhausted himself and depleted his magic. Ros wasn’t sure how long it would take to recover from such an act. The sheer power displayed was remarkable. Top score.

  As the medics carried Teague from the arena, a man in all black, no markings, entered the ring. A fitting end to the ceremonies, as dusk was beginning to settle. Now was the time of the Night mage. Now was the time to see the gifts of Cassian Scalise.

  Chapter 11

  Cassian took a moment to roll up his sleeves. Ros found herself smiling at the gesture. He wasn’t worried about the crowd or displeasing them; no, if anything, he was delighting in delaying their show. He knew that no matter what he did, the people’s attention would be his, simply for who he was.

  He leaned his head side to side, stretched his neck, and looked up to the darkening sky. Ros presumed his gift was stronger at night, which was partially why she’d placed him last. She couldn’t deny she was just as eager to see his performance as the rest of them, and she wanted to give him the best chance to show what he could do.

  Cassian turned to face the royal box and bowed deeply, as usual. He held out his hands as if to ask Rosalinde’s permission. When she nodded, he disappeared.

  There were shocked gasps as everyone looked around the arena. But Ros knew where he was. She’d heard his boots land behind her.