by Elise Kova
The fire swirled, condensing into a column, slowly growing in height. Vi began to sweat yet again from the mental and magical exertion. Even if she couldn’t feel heat from fire as a Firebearer, the humidity of the northern jungles did her no favors.
Like a wave crashing against her, another wall of Jax’s fire hit. Vi stumbled, knees hitting the dusty ground. The fire she had been working on completely vanished.
“I—”
“Again!” Jax shouted at her.
Why was he doing this? He had never been like this in any of their lessons before. Vi stared at him, anger singeing her chest. It made the watch feel unnaturally cool against her skin as she struggled back to her feet.
The moment she was upright, another wall knocked her back over. Vi balled her hands into fists, knuckles pushing on the rough ground. She couldn’t give up like this.
She lifted her hand, readying herself, but the next wall never came. Instead, fingers closed around her forearm, hoisting her back up. Vi swayed slightly, looking up at Jax.
“That’s enough for the day, I think,” he said gently. “Sorry for pushing you so hard. I thought it might help jostle something.”
“I… it’s fine,” Vi mumbled, looking aside. Shame took over her for every nasty thought she’d had. “I know you were only trying to help me.”
“Yes, well, I think it’s time we get that skillet cake.” Jax gave her a pat on the back and they started for the stairs.
“You go on ahead.” Vi lingered, sinking onto the bottom step.
“Vi…”
“I’m fine, uncle. Just a bit tired. Just want to catch my breath is all.” Vi twisted, looking up at him and forcing the biggest smile she could. “More like, I’m trying to sneak away to look at maps instead of skillet cakes.”
“It’s always a ploy for maps.” He started up. “You should consider joining me for breakfast, Vi. As you said, you should keep up your strength.”
“We’ll see,” Vi called back. But he was already gone.
With a soft sigh, Vi leaned against the stone, closing her eyes. Why? Why couldn’t she manage anything? Her hand closed around the watch at her neck.
So much for magic coming when she needed it. The bitter thought was the ignition strike. Her eyes shot open.
“One more time,” she whispered, knowing that it wouldn’t yield anything but hoping against hope it did.
The spark deep within her was ablaze, bright and hot. Rage fueled it—from her birthday and its reminder of how she was stuck in the North, from the leftover feelings of anger at her uncle’s test—rage at her magic itself for betraying her as it had.
Fire exploded around her hands.
Hotter, brighter—she pushed her magic as though Jax was still levying walls of flame against her. But instead of attempting to shield herself with it, Vi poured all her energy into the tiny ball in her palms. Every ounce of frustration was set ablaze, brighter than she’d ever seen her flames before.
The scales tipped without warning and magic flooded her system. Its white-hot flames roared like an unruly beast. Vi gasped as magic poured from her faster than she could find air.
Without warning, the wall had been broken down within her. This was the power she’d longed for, and now that she had it, she didn’t know what to do with it. It was as though sunlight itself had turned molten and was now pouring from her.
She stared into the bright, shifting light, her eyes blown wide, and in it, she saw a figure come into clarity. Suddenly the world she knew was gone, and something new clicked into focus.
She was no longer in Soricium, but in a stone passageway she’d never seen before.
It was akin to what she’d imagined the dungeons of Solaris to look like—damp, dark, unembellished, rough stone. But there were no cells, just a long tunnel that continued stretching into the darkness in both directions. She turned to face the source of light at her left.
Vi blinked, disoriented.
Waiting with a small ball of flame hovering over her shoulder was… herself. At least, Vi thought it was her. It looked like her, the resemblance as uncanny as looking into a mirror. But there were notable differences. The woman across from her looked hardened, far more toned, and the natural tan hue of Vi’s skin was deepened even further on her cheeks. The large cowl hood that covered the majority of her head cast further shadow.
The woman’s clothes were drab and threadbare. Her hands were wrapped up to her elbows, like bandages, or the wrapped knuckles of a brawler. She stared into the darkness, watching, waiting.
Vi didn’t have to find out what she was waiting for.
Soon, another light appeared far in the distance. As it grew, it illuminated a man.
He had a tousled mess of black hair cut at odd angles that ultimately ended at his shoulders. No… not quite black. It was another hue—a deep plum color off-set just slightly by the light.
A wicked, sickle-shaped scar ran down his left cheek and beneath the high collar of his intricately embroidered jacket. It brought her attention to a pair of piercing green eyes. He stared from underneath long lashes, fixated on the woman.
The mirror of herself spoke, but there was no sound. It was then that Vi realized she hadn’t heard the dripping of water off the dank walls and ceiling, or the crackle of the fire over the woman’s shoulder.
The whole world was muffled. She could see, but not hear or touch.
Can you see me? Vi tried to ask, though she already knew the answer. They couldn’t. Their focus was entirely on each other. Tension filled the air nearly to the point of sparking into magic.
The man spoke and again she heard no sound. But Vi could tell by his expression that, whatever he said, it was serious.
When the woman replied, her free hand rose to her chest, touching her cowl lightly.
Vi’s hand reached upward in tandem, her fingers falling on the watch Fritz had given her.
Looking down, she saw a shimmering glyph hovering above it—weak, frail, and flickering. As soon as her eyes landed on it, the symbols shifted and changed, spiraling in concentric circles. Sounds filled her mind suddenly. It was a maddening cacophony she couldn’t understand, but desperately wanted to.
She hadn’t quite heard the symbols, nor had she read them. It was as though the word—words?—had vibrated in the very core of her being. Vi looked back up from the watch around her neck, but the two people had gone blurry and over-saturated. They were fading into white light.
Vi blinked, swaying.
The world came into focus once more, light vanishing from around her. No, it hadn’t been light, it had been flames, hadn’t it?
She slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe. Ash coated her hands up to her elbows, coated her lungs as though she had been breathing fire instead of air. Her head spun.
Vi had wanted magic. Begged for it. She’d anticipated flames like her uncle’s, like those of her forefathers.
She’d never expected to see the future.
Chapter Three
The water pooled around her feet, black with soot. It clung to the ceramic tiles and hung in the grooves between them that surrounded her rectangular, wooden bath. It lingered bucket after bucket, its granules impossible to wash away from the inside of the tub.
Her eyes looked at it unseeing, focused instead on the vision.
Shaking, Vi continued to scrub.
She’d wanted magic. Future sight hadn’t been in the plans. Vi looked at the murky water as it slipped between her tan fingers.
That’s what it was, wasn’t it? It had to be, based on everything she’d read. But if she had future sight, why had she never received a vision when she looked into flames before?
There were four affinities that commanded the four elements: Windwalkers for air, Firebearers for fire, Groundbreakers for earth, and Waterrunners for water. Yet each of those four affinities could, sometimes, tap into a deeper, more mysterious magic called an affinity of the self.
For Firebearers, that was futu
re sight.
“Do you need more water, your highness?” A servant called from outside the door to the bathing room.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
The water was tepid and like ice on her skin. But she relished every raised goose bump that now lined her arms. Smoldering embers had taken up residence in her stomach. White-hot lightning arced between them. It escaped, wrapping around her fingers if she moved them too quickly.
She was Awoken now, there was little doubt of that. Her uncle had said it would result in her being able to truly command her magic. But this did not feel like control.
The Crown Princess felt as if she was one breath away from burning alive.
As if she was one breath away from burning them all alive.
“Can I get you anything else, your highness?” The woman asked. Vi knew to read between the lines and understood she needed to get moving, go about her day. But how could she act as if nothing had happened?
“I’m done.” Vi stood, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. But she didn’t know what from—the cold, or feeling the rising tide of the magic within her. What a fitting tone for her birthday.
The servant came in, head bowed, towel in outstretched hands. Vi allowed herself to be attended to and was ushered out into the narrow dressing area that attached her closet, bath, and toilet with her bedroom. She was silent as the servant moved hastily around her, placing her mind as far from her body as possible.
She was no longer Vi the sorceress, but Vi the princess.
Princesses did not object. Princesses did not attempt to dry or perfume themselves. They didn’t choose their outfits or decide what powders to put on their cheeks.
Yet when the woman’s hands moved to plunge themselves into Vi’s hair, she raised a hand.
“I can plait it myself.”
“Are you certain?” It was the usual question, even though whoever was attending her among Vi’s rotation of servants already knew the answer.
“I’m certain. You can go now.”
The moment the servant was gone, Vi’s fingers were in her hair, weaving the braids her mother had taught her were fashionable in the South. They shouldn’t allow her this. But they did.
She carefully twisted the braids, stretching them back, pinning them in place, repeating the process time and again.
By the time Vi was done, she felt some sliver of emotion trying to work its way out from underneath the ash that still coated her soul. Between the strands of hair, she’d almost completely woven the morning out of her narrative. If she tried, she could convince herself to pretend this was like any other morning before her classes.
To sell herself on the fiction, Vi wandered from her bathing and dressing rooms to her study, as she would on any normal day.
Hair still wet and dripping from the ends of her braids, Vi pulled it over her shoulder and tucked it carefully under the collar of her shirt so it didn’t get water on any of her most prized possessions. She closed the door tightly behind her and shut out the world.
What should she do?
Write down her vision? Ignore it entirely? Vi’s eyes fell on her drafting table. The burnt spot stared at her like a bad omen. Could she trust herself with her magic feeling so unstable around her books?
Vi crossed to the table, sitting heavily. She tilted her head back, eyes wandering the maps lazily. They landed on the blueprint her brother had sent her of the rose garden.
“How about you, Father?” she asked the parchment. “Did you ever see the future?”
How nice it would be if she could actually ask her parents. It was a fantasy Vi pushed away as she shifted back toward the desk.
Her hand moved slowly, reaching for a quill and parchment. Every move was drawn out, intentional, no unnecessary energy expended so no magic would spark from her fingers again. A blank sheet in front of her, Vi drew the first line of ink across its surface.
She’d intended to write down her vision. But her hand seemed to move of its own accord, darting across the page while her mind lingered on nothing.
Swirling circles, connected by symbols Vi didn’t understand. Dots, lines, smaller circles, they all wrapped together. As Vi drew, the sensation of rightness swelled in her, just as it had in her vision.
Why did something that seemed like it made so much sense also terrify her in equal measure?
Her quill stopped, and Vi looked down at the drawing. It was the same symbol she’d seen hovering over the watch around her neck, drawn with what Vi was certain was uncanny precision. Her heart began to race, staring at it. If she looked at it long enough then she may just—
The door opened behind her and Vi jumped, startled.
The paper in her hand incinerated in a bright pop of fire. The room filled with the scent of smoke and ash covered her fingertips yet again. She stared at the servant from earlier who stared back with equally wide eyes and an unsettling skepticism Vi had never seen before.
“Forgive my interruption.” She gave a small bow, saying nothing of the magic she’d witnessed. “A courier has arrived.”
“Jayme,” Vi breathed in relief. Perhaps this birthday wouldn’t be a complete waste. “Thank you, please excuse me.” She pushed past the woman, starting out the door, only to be stopped again by a man who was heading into her classroom.
“Princess, where do you think you’re going?” Martis questioned.
“Jayme has arrived.”
“And you still have your lesson as normal, even when your courier arrives,” he said hastily, trying to stop her with words alone. “You’re about to have three days off, now is not the time to be skipping.”
“We’re about to get a whole fresh batch of news from Jayme’s delivery to debate during our lessons. Don’t you think it’s worth postponing things a little?” Vi braced herself for another rejection. But it seemed Martis would be softer on her than Jax had been.
“Very well, go on.” He shook his head and started into her study. “But hurry back. I expect at least a half lesson from you, princess. You’re not to get out of this entirely.”
“Understood,” Vi called over her shoulder and was off before he even had time to set down his folio on one of the two desks they used in her classroom.
Out the main door was a serpentine walkway, wrapping around the tree, tunneling back into the trunk as it spiraled down. Two different rope bridges connected across to other structures, and walkways that were really massive limbs with railings or twisting stone bridges. High above her, the buildings stretched into the leafy embrace of the most ancient trees in the world. Far below her, the buildings grew up from the ground to make a living fortress that looked like more of a magical treehouse than the strict definitions of castles and fortresses she’d seen in the architectural books she’d studied.
The rope bridge leading away from her room creaked loudly, swaying under her feet as she darted across it. From the platform on the far side, Vi could get a much better look of the main entry of the fortress. Sure enough, if she squinted, she could make out golden embellishments glinting off the standard saddle for an Imperial courier. Two people stood by the mount; one had dark hair like Vi’s, the other brown—like her mother’s.
But unusually, there was a second mount, and a man with bright blond hair.
Vi gripped the railing beside her so tightly the rough edges of the weather-worn rope splintered into her palms. She leaned over, bending at the waist, trying to get a better look without falling.
She couldn’t breathe.
From here, the man looked like he could be… might be… was it Romulin? Her heart nearly exploded from her chest with hope.
“Ellene!” Vi called upward. She took the curving steps that wound around the large tree trunk two, even three at a time, her long legs making quick work of the stairs. “Ellene! Jayme’s here and someone’s with her!”
“Princess.” A green-eyed maid gave a small nod, her hands laden with fresh linens. “The chieftain’s daughter has gone down to the stab
les.”
“Of course she has,” Vi muttered. Ellene and Vi had an unspoken race for who would be the first to greet their friend, and she was currently in second place. “Thank you!” she called as she began running back down the stairs.
Vi spiraled down, in and out of hollowed tree trunks that held the living quarters of the fortress of Soricium. She dashed across bridges of rope and stone, through sitting areas, gaming parlors, libraries, and more. She knew every shortcut, every back-door that led to a tree-limb that ran parallel with another where nimble, confident feet could jump.
In mere minutes, she was breathlessly emerging into the sunlight on the ground below, catching deep inhales of the dust cloud that perpetually lingered in the stretch of dirt that ran the length of the stables. At her left were smaller stables where horses were kept. At her right was a massive pen that contained five large noru cats, lounging about. Vi ignored both feline and equine alike, focusing on the small group collected around the courier she’d seen from above.
“Jayme!” Vi called over as she quickly approached.
“Don’t you have a lesson to be attending right now?” Jax turned quickly, giving her a stern look.
Vi stopped mid-step, freezing in place. The severity of his tone hardly fit him. It was the tone he usually used when they weren’t among friends.
“Martis agreed to a half lesson so that we could properly account for new news from the capital.” Vi’s eyes drifted from Jayme to Jax, and finally to the man still seated high on his horse—the new presence and undeniable source of the tension.
He had cerulean eyes, a square-cut jaw lined with pale stubble, and a mess of wavy golden hair. Vi supposed most women would find him handsome. She also supposed she wasn’t like most women… because his appeal did little to interest her.
She only cared about one thing: he was certainly not her brother. Vi knew it from the portraits of Romulin she’d been sent and she knew it from the way he looked at her—eyes shifting, constant glances askance—awkward. Nothing like what she would expect of her brother’s gaze.