by C. L. Wilson
Was her father’s legacy of madness finally starting to manifest in her?
Gabriella was terrified that was the case, and even more terrified of what she might do to the people around her if it was. What she might do to the people she loved.
She knew everyone thought she was the weakest of the Seasons. She knew everyone thought she was so sweet and kind and gentle that she would never hurt a fly. That’s what they were supposed to think. That was the face her mother, the late Queen Rosalind, had taught her to show to the world, the mask she’d taught Gabriella to wear so well it had become second nature to her.
Even now, though her mother was long dead—nearly two decades dead—Summer could still hear her voice, so gentle and yet so firm, pulsing with a magic that Queen Rosalind’s Seahaven ancestors had long ago labeled Persuasion.
You were born with great power, my darling. Not just from your father but from me as well. You must learn to control it. If you don’t, you could hurt a great many people, and I know you would never want that. You must control it, Gabriella. You must. Your father and I will help you any way we can. But to start with, you must learn to always remain calm. Stay away from people and situations that upset you. Practice sending goodness, kindness, and happiness out into the world, so that you only get goodness, kindness, and happiness back.
And that was exactly what she’d done. She’d avoided conflict entirely at first. Anger, hatred, violence: those emotions stung her senses like nettles, feeding darkness into her until her own darkness roared in response. As she got older, she’d eventually learned how to defuse conflict rather than run from it. She’d mastered the Persuasive gifts she’d inherited from her mother and her Seahaven ancestors, though she was always careful not to “push” too hard with those gifts, for fear of unleashing her other, more dangerous magic.
She’d thought she’d succeeded in caging her deadliest gifts and escaping the madness that had consumed and destroyed her father, but since coming to Konumarr, her hard-won and painstakingly-maintained serenity had all but evaporated. The beast that dwelt inside her had begun rousing at the simplest provocation.
It didn’t even take anger or violence to shake the foundations of her control anymore. All it took was for her to want something, badly, and that hungry, wild, ferocious thing inside her roared to life, ripping and tearing at her control, threatening to break free.
Like seeing Lily’s baby move and wanting—needing! Craving!—a baby of her own to love, even though that was the last thing she should ever have.
She’d reached Ragnar Square, the central plaza of Konumarr. Two dozen villagers were hard at work, twining blossoming vines around lampposts and stringing cables for the lanterns that would be lit tomorrow night for the celebration welcoming the Calbernans to Wintercraig. Several of the workers saw her and paused in their work to doff hats and bow or curtsy.
“Your Royal Highness.”
Gabriella forced a smile, somehow managing to summon the Sweet Princess Summer mask they all expected to see. “Please, that’s not necessary. Don’t let me interrupt your work.” Unbidden, a strong thrust of Persuasion pushed out along with her words. The workers—all of them—immediately went back to their tasks as if she wasn’t even there.
Rattled by her unintentional use of power, Summer tucked her chin down and hurried past. This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all!
She didn’t dare return to the palace just yet. She needed peace and quiet and a place to center herself, to shore up the crumbling foundation of her control. Rather than turning to cross the bridge leading to the palace, she continued walking briskly down the Konumarr’s main road. She wanted to break out into a run, but that would draw attention to herself. Attention meant people would be bombarding her senses with their curiosity and alarm, and she wasn’t prepared to risk any further damage to the barriers that kept her magic in check.
Just before the city gates, Gabriella turned left down a stone-paved path that led to her favorite place in Konumarr: a small, mossy grotto tucked away behind the misting waters of Snowbeard Falls. There the air was cool and damp, and the roar of the falls drowned out all noise from the city. It was the one place in all of Konumarr where she could feel well and truly alone—alone enough to find the peace she so desperately needed.
Gabriella sat down on the stone bench in the center of the grotto and closed her eyes as the misty spray from the foaming white veil of falling water dampened her face. The chilly moisture evaporated quickly on her hot cheeks, but she gripped the sides of the stone bench with both hands and remained where she was until the speed with which the water evaporated slowed down to something approaching normal. Only then did she open her eyes, and with hands that shook only slightly, she unclasped the charm bracelet secured around her right wrist and held it in her palm.
Small jeweled charms dangling from the bracelet’s silver links winked up at her, each tiny shell, starfish, and sea creature paved with a different colored gemstone.
Your mother would have wanted you to have this. She could still hear her father’s voice, before the madness had him fully in its grip, before she and her other sisters knew their beloved father had become a monster. He’d given Gabriella her mother’s bracelet on her eighth birthday, less than a year after her mother’s death. You’re so like her. She remembered the feel of Papa’s big, broad hands petting her black curls back off her face. Like a little piece of my Rose, still alive for me to love.
Summer gave a stifled sob and pushed away those memories, reaching instead for the memory of her mother unclasping her bracelet and putting it in Gabriella’s small hands, teaching her how to find the calm within. Pick a charm, darling. Any one of them. How about this little blue dolphin here? Such a happy fellow, don’t you think? This one was always my favorite. Now, I want you to focus on it. Focus on this little blue dolphin.
In a ritual that she’d done so often it had become instinct, Gabriella poked through the charms with one finger until she found the small sapphire-studded dolphin. Pinching that charm between her thumb and forefinger, she focused intently on the blue glitter of its gems.
Imagine him swimming in the ocean, laughing and leaping in the waves. Good, that’s good, baby girl. Now keep imagining that happy dolphin until everything that makes you angry or upset fades away. There’s my girl. There’s my sweet, kind, good, beautiful girl. I love you, Gabriella. I love you so very, very much.
The little blue dolphin charm grew blurry. Gabriella blinked and wetness much warmer than the mist from the falls trickled down her cheeks.
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered. “Oh, Mama, I miss you so much.”
“You’re late,” Gabriella’s eldest sister, Viviana, better known by her giftname, Spring, greeted her as she stepped out onto Konumarr Palace’s western terrace. Spring frowned, her bright green gaze sweeping over Gabriella intently, missing nothing. “Is everything all right?”
Her mother’s bracelet clasped back in place around her wrist, the fractures in the fortress containing her power once more tightly sealed, Gabriella summoned a blithe, sunny smile and, with the ease of a lifetime of practice, chose a lie she knew her sisters would believe. “Of course. Everything’s fine. It was just such a beautiful day, I just had to take a little detour on the way home. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
King Wynter, Summer’s brother-in-law, had promised her and her sisters that come spring his country would transform into one of the most beautiful places on earth, and he had not been wrong. With the long, bright days of northern Wintercraig’s summer well underway, the ice and snow of winter had retreated, leaving picturesque waterfalls pouring down from the mountainsides, creating perpetual rainbows in the mists. Konumarr, built at the headwaters of the Llaskroner Fjord valley, was nestled in the very heart of that beauty, surrounded by green cliffs, lush forests, and abundantly blooming life. In certain parts of the city, you could even glimpse the glacier-capped peaks of the Skoerr Mountains to the north.
“Well, I don�
�t mind,” Spring said, “but a few more minutes, and I feared Autumn might start gnawing on her own arm.”
“Not my arm, Vivi,” retorted Autumn, the youngest and most beautiful of the three princesses known as the Seasons of Summerlea. “I was thinking about gnawing on yours.” With a laugh and a toss of her bright auburn curls, Autumn stuck out her tongue and headed for the wide table where a full afternoon tea had been laid out for them.
As usual, the palace staff had outdone themselves. Tiered plates of sandwiches, savories, delicate iced cakes, and a variety of other sweets had been tucked amidst artfully arranged flowers and greenery, giving the impression of nature offering up a bounty of delectable treats. Autumn snatched up a plate and began to help herself to the goodies.
Gabriella glanced around the terrace, but apart from two guards and a servant standing off at a discreet distance, the three Seasons were alone. “Where’s Storm and Wynter? I thought they were joining us.”
“Khamsin took ill again right after lunch.”
“Ah. Poor thing.” Their youngest sister, Khamsin, hadn’t had the most uneventful pregnancy, that was for sure. Even eight months into it, bouts of queasiness would still take her unawares at any time of day or night, a fact that had left her husband, Wynter, hovering over his beloved wife until she threatened to shoot a lightning bolt up his unmentionables if he didn’t leave her in peace. “I hope Tildy brewed up something to help her feel better.”
“She did, and it must have worked. We haven’t seen Kham or Wynter for almost two hours.” Spring winked and they both laughed. “So how was school today?” Spring asked. “Did the little sprouts learn heaps and heaps?”
“Heaps and heaps,” Summer confirmed. She glanced past Spring to the tea table and tried to hide a smile as she watched Autumn pile her plate high with three savory meat pies, eight tiny sandwiches, four small iced cakes layered with fruit filling, and two small pastry cornucopias filled with sugared fruits.
Seeing the smile, Spring turned, then scowled. “Sweet Halla, Autumn! Could you leave some for everyone else?”
Autumn arched a haughty auburn brown and sniffed. “Oh, hush. There’s enough here to feed an army. No one’s going to be shorted because I chose to indulge myself. Which I’m going to do more of, now, just to irritate you.” Blowing Spring a kiss, she added another meat pie and three large sugar cookies frosted with cream-cheese icing to the tottering pile on her plate. “So there.”
Spring scowled. “You are incorrigible.”
Autumn popped a tiny iced teacake in her mouth, grinned, and executed a wildly extravagant bow, complete with waving flourishes of her free arm. It was a credit to Autumn’s natural grace that not a single item toppled from her teetering, overfull plate.
For the first time since her earlier lapse in control, Gabriella’s fear evaporated completely, and genuine laughter bubbled up inside her over Autumn’s antics. She tried to stifle a giggle because she knew Spring wouldn’t approve, but succeeded only in giving an unladylike snort of amusement. That earned her a grin from Autumn and a dark look from Spring.
“Honestly, Gabi, must you encourage her?”
Gabrielle’s smothered giggle turned into an outright laugh. “I can’t help it. She’s funny.”
“She’s ridiculous.” Spring planted her hands on her slender hips. Her spine was rigid, her green eyes snapping. The long sheath of stick-straight black hair that feel to her hips didn’t so much as twitch. “I hope you will be better behaved tomorrow with the Calbernans, Aleta Seraphina Helena Rosalie Violet Coruscate.”
Autumn rolled her eyes, plopped into a chair at the table, then attacked her food with the ferocious focus of a general commanding the invasion of a small country.
“She’s nervous about tomorrow,” Summer murmured as she and Spring turned back to the tea table to fill their own plates with less than a fourth of what Autumn had taken. “You know how she gets when she’s nervous.”
Even on a normal day, most people who saw the amount of food Autumn put away were shocked, and when she was nervous, she ate at least twice what she usually did. By all rights, the sheer quantity of what she consumed should have left her as fat as a farmer’s prize porker, but instead she maintained a perfect figure, slender of waist and limb but generously curved in all the right places. There was something about holding the sun in your soul that tended to burn calories like kindling.
Still, if Summer ate the way Autumn did, her curves would be so generous they’d be popping the seams on all her clothes!
“I’m nervous, too,” Spring muttered, “but you don’t see me trying to stuff the whole palace larder down my gullet!”
“No,” Gabriella agreed. “But I do see you trying to control something you know you can’t. And maybe obsessing just a little? How many more times did you read that report on the Calbernans last night?”
Spring flushed. “Summer the Sweet, sometimes you’re a little tart.”
Proving she was still listening even from her spot at the table, Autumn turned in her chair to crow, “Vivi! You made a pun!” She gave Spring two thumbs up. “I’m so proud of you!”
Spring rolled her eyes. Gabriella smothered a laugh, then said, “And since you didn’t answer my question, I take it to mean you read the report at least—what?—two more times?”
“Four,” Spring admitted grudgingly, “but only because I couldn’t sleep!” They returned to the table and took their seats next to Autumn. “Of course, as usual, Gabriella, you don’t look even the slightest bit nervous about tomorrow.”
“Why would I be?” Gabriella reached for the silver teapot. “It’s not like Sealord Merimydion is going to be paying me much attention when you and Autumn are here.”
“Gabriella . . .”
Summer laughed with genuine amusement. “It’s true and you know it. And I honestly don’t mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. I don’t have to worry about whether I’m making a good impression, or twist myself in knots when my potential husband turns out to be a loathsome toad or an intolerable gas bag. Instead, I get to just sit back and enjoy the show.”
That comment pulled Autumn away from her food. “Hah,” she said. “You weren’t enjoying the show last week with that Vermese ambassador. He really took a shine to you. All the Vermese do. They think you’re their type. All soft and sweet and accommodating.”
Summer blinked big, innocent blue eyes and gave her sister a beatific smile. “I am soft and sweet and accommodating.”
Autumn laughed. “And sneaky. And stubborn. And subversive.”
“Don’t be unkind, Leta,” Summer chided. But she couldn’t stop the tiny smile that curled up the corners of her lips. Her sisters knew her better than anyone. They knew about the masks she showed the world. What they didn’t know was how often the face she showed them was a mask as well.
Her smile dimmed a little at that thought, and to hide it she reached for the large silver teapot set out in the center of the table. Hefting the pot, she poured a stream of hot honeyrose tea into a crystal tea glass cradled in a beautifully carved silver holder. After adding two small flower-shaped cubes of sugar from the bowl, she handed the glass to Spring along with a tiny silver spoon.
“Speaking of the Vermese,” Spring said. “I want to apologize again for abandoning you the way I did. I shouldn’t have left you to cozy up to that cretin all on your own.”
“As I’ve said before, there’s no need to apologize. Cozying up to cretins is my specialty.” Like her mother before her, Summer was considered the palace peacemaker. It was a role that usually suited her quite well. Gabriella sighed. “Unfortunately, that time, I don’t think it did much good.”
Two weeks ago, an apoplectic Galil beda Turat, ambassador to Maak Korin beda Khan, Mystral’s wealthiest and most powerful emperor, had stormed out of Konumarr Palace, furious that the Great Maak’s tenth marriage proposal since Autumn’s thirteenth birthday had been refused. Only unlike the many times their father had refused the Maak’s offers, Wynter ha
d not only refused, he’d done so in a way that made it clear no future offers from the Great Maak would ever be welcome.
Gabriella had done her best to calm down the outraged ambassador, finally resorting to a push of Persuasion. His reaction still troubled her. The ambassador hadn’t merely been outraged, he’d been afraid. One thing she’d learned over the years was that frightened, furious men could end up causing all sorts of trouble. And even though the ambassador was no threat, the same couldn’t be said for his master, Maak Korin beda Khan.
“You did more good than I would have done,” Spring said. “If I had to bite my lip one more time so as not to offend him with my bold, unfeminine ways I would have wrapped my hands around his skinny neck and strangled the life out of him. But that’s still no excuse for leaving you to face him all on your own. I know the Vermese make your skin crawl.”
Like she was buried in spiders, cockroaches, and every other manner of creepy-crawly, but all Gabriella said—mildly—was, “They are among the few visitors we’ve received over the years that I’ve never been able to make myself like.”
“Can you imagine if one of the Verminous Vermese took Summer as a wife?” Autumn interjected. “He wouldn’t know what hit him. Within the year, she’d probably have Verma turned into the next Calberna!” She laughed.
Summer repressed a shudder at the thought of being married—or rather, enslaved—to a Vermese man. “Some things are beyond even my powers of Persuasion.” And what she might do to the Vermese, were she ever put under their control, would be neither as amusing nor as nonviolent as what Autumn had suggested. Suppressing another, deeper shudder, Gabriella reached for a fresh tea glass and poured a cup for herself.