A Trial of Sorcerers: Book One

by Kova, Elise

  “I just wanted—”

  “You were selfish,” he snapped. Marcus loomed over her. “You didn’t think about me, or what I wanted. You didn’t think how important these trials may be to me.”

  “And what about me?” Eira’s voice rose. “What about what I want? You don’t even care about Meru, or traveling, or the wide world. Maybe it’s you who should have stepped aside. You’d be rid of me at the very least. You’d all be rid of me, and think of how much happier that’d make everyone.” Maybe she should go and never come back.

  “I’ve sacrificed so much to look after you!” he shouted, ignoring her self-deprecating remarks.

  “I never asked you to!” she shouted right back. “You did that of your own volition.”

  “Because I thought you were my sister!”

  Thought.

  You.

  Were.

  My.

  Sister.

  …Thought.

  The words struck her down. They stole any strength she might have had. Eira backed away. Her ribs had been cracked open and her heart was exposed. She would bleed out before him.

  “Go away, Marcus,” she whispered, clutching her chest. If she didn’t feel her heart beating, she would’ve suspected it had stopped entirely then and there.

  His expression softened. “Eira, I didn’t mean… Look, I—”

  “Go away!” she yelled with all her might. Eira didn’t care who heard. She didn’t care if threatening everyone’s precious front-runner cost her pin.

  “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “Stop.” Eira shook her head, straightening. The world was spinning. She felt like she was in a tide of black ink, spinning around a drain. But if she was going down, she would do it with her head held high. “Just…leave.”

  “Maybe I should, before you attack me too,” Marcus grumbled and stomped down the ladder. Eira watched him go from the rooftop. When he stopped, a flutter of hope took over her that he might already try to mend this. But hope was fleeting, because then he said, “If you ever cared about me, you’ll drop out. If you want to prove you love me, and Mom, Dad, and the rest of our family, don’t compete in the next trial.”

  With that, he left her alone.

  Eira shrank, crouching into a ball and clutching her knees. He didn’t mean it. Not really. He’s hurting, too. He’s being stupid. She tried to reassure herself over and over and over again. But the words were hollow and they wouldn’t stick.

  The crackle of ice diverted her attention. It was coating her once more.

  Quickly shaking the frost from her shoulders, Eira descended and took the long way back to the Tower. She went first to her room, but stopped, staring at the nameplate that read:

  EIRA LANDAN

  “Well, that’s not really me, is it?” she murmured and wandered away.

  Eira felt like a ghost—an unwanted creature, void of substance. There was no place for her here. Was there?

  Her thoughts drifted like she did, as dark as the rooms she passed. The Tower was silent this late, save for a few apprentices hunched over textbooks in the library. Eira avoided them at all costs. If she was seen, then she was real. If she was real, then she could feel.

  She didn’t want to exist.

  So she went to a place that wasn’t supposed to exist.

  Eira pushed open the secret door in the Waterrunner storeroom. She sidestepped around the barrel into the dark room and closed the door behind her. Breathing a sigh of relief—as if she had truly somehow escaped all the problems that hunted her—Eira lay out on the bed and closed her eyes.

  Maybe she would fade away here. She wouldn’t worry about trying to sort through these messy feelings. And…the world would be fine without her…wouldn’t it? They’d be happier without her. It’d be simpler for them…

  Something cold, and sharp, pressed into her neck right underneath her jaw. Eira’s eyes shot open. Standing over her was one of two elfin in all of Solaris—Ferro’s guard, Deneya. Her dark hair was tied back into a high bun. Her eyes shone in the moonlight. And she held a dagger to Eira’s throat.

  “We need to have a talk, you and I,” Deneya nearly purred. Eira opened her mouth but was interrupted by, “Tell me…what is your relationship with the Pirate Queen, Adela Lagmir?”

  17

  Adela Lagmir, the infamous pirate queen. Eira had grown up with the lore and whispered stories of her. But she’d never heard the name more than in the past day.

  Narrowing her eyes, Eira pushed her magic outward. A sheet of ice grew underneath the tip of the dagger, coating her neck and chest, pushing the blade away. Deneya stepped back nonchalantly, letting Eira swing her legs off the side of the bed and sit. Frost clouded the air off her body in waves.

  “Don’t look at me with murderous intent. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.” Deneya cast aside the dagger. However, it didn’t clatter to the floor as a normal dagger would. It fell through the air, unraveling into strands of light. Yet, Eira had felt it at her throat—solid and sharp.

  “Mysst.”

  “What?” Deneya tilted her head.

  “That was mysst—Lightspinning to craft weapons and shields. Wasn’t it?” Eira’s attention drifted from the spot where the dagger had disappeared back to the woman who had been holding it.

  Deneya tilted her head to the other side, as if Eira was a complicated book to be read. When she finished her assessment, she put her hands on her hips and let out a low humming noise.

  “You’re not one of hers, then, are you?”

  “Do you mean Adela Lagmir’s?” The name was strange to say aloud. Her whole life, Eira had seen people shunned for saying the name. To do so was to bring about bad luck, they said. But perhaps it was the name of her birth mother. Or the name of her birth mother’s employer. “I honestly don’t know if I am or not.” Eira sighed and tried to relax the ice coating her body. She couldn’t let it get out of hand again. The thought evoked memories of Cullen’s arms around her and the frost retreated.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” Eira muttered.

  “How do you know of this place?” Deneya motioned around her.

  “I found it by accident. How did you find those forgotten halls of Solaris?” Eira turned the question back on the woman.

  Deneya smirked. “I found them, by accident.”

  “You’re lying.”

  The elfin laughed outright, a hearty and fearless sound. “You are a fun one, aren’t you? Not even the slightest amount of fear toward me and my magic despite being from Solaris. You remind me of a good friend of mine.” Deneya started for the passage behind the bookcase. “You’re right. I’m lying. But you don’t seem to be. Which makes you none of my concern. Enjoy lying in Adela’s bed, Eira.”

  Deneya slipped back into the rough-hewn passage. Eira was on her feet in an instant, following closely behind. She heard the echo of whispered words as Deneya summoned a glowing orb over her shoulders, casting a pale light on the hallway.

  “It was Adela’s then? That room?”

  “It was.” Deneya kept walking.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know a lot more about Solaris history than you do.” Deneya didn’t even turn to speak to her, or slow down. Eira had to use magic to root her feet in ice just to keep up, otherwise she’d slip at the woman’s pace.

  “It seems everyone knows a lot more about my history than I do,” Eira said with a bitter note.

  That earned an inquisitive glance, but Deneya didn’t remark. Instead, she asked, “Why are you following me, apprentice?”

  Eira didn’t entirely know herself. Something about this whole interaction—the whole day—was like a dream. And in a dream, didn’t people go wandering secret passages with pointy-eared sorceresses?

  “Why did you ask me about Adela?”

  “It’s best not to worry about it.” Deneya emerged into the forgotten hallway that the passage connected to. Eira was close behind her. “Nothing good
will come of anything involving Adela. The superstitions do have that right.”

  “Is…is Adela real?” Eira dared to ask.

  “What kind of a question is that?” Deneya stopped in a square of moonlight streaming through the cracked glass of the windows at their right. “Of course she’s real. You were in her room, weren’t you?”

  “Right. But is she still someone to worry about?” Eira rephrased her question.

  Deneya’s lips twitched into a frown for only a second. “Very much so.”

  “But the stories of her… They’re from a long time ago. They mention her stealing the royal treasure of the last Solaris king, right before his death, and fleeing to Oparium.” And she likely used the passage to escape, Eira realized, glancing behind her.

  “Yes, and?”

  “That would’ve been almost seventy years ago.” Eira took a step forward, stepping into her own beam of moonlight. “Is a seventy-year-old woman really out terrorizing the seas?”

  Deneya slowly raised a single finger. “One—do not presume what can and cannot be done because of age. Even for humans, like you, your mind limits you well before your body or skill does.” She raised a second finger. “Two—I can assure you that Adela is alive and terrorizing. She hasn’t come around these parts for a while. Thank your princess admiral for that.”

  “Where is she?” Eira asked as Deneya went to leave.

  “Last I heard, off the west, southwest coast of Meru, causing trouble for the Empire of Carasovia.” The woman quirked an eyebrow. “Why are you so interested?”

  “I…” Eira bit her lip, chewing on it and her words. “Why did you ask if I was associated with Adela?” She braced herself for the answer because she already knew what it would be.

  “Your performance at the trial today. You moved like her. Your magic looked like hers.” Deneya ran her eyes over Eira from head to toe. “Yargen bless, you truly look like her.”

  “Do I?” Eira took a hasty step forward, as if she were rushing toward the truth. Her foot crossed out of the moonlight and once more into the darkness.

  “I’ve answered enough for you. It’s time for you to answer a question for me.” Deneya continued her assessment of Eira. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t know if you were Adela’s or not?”

  Eira dropped her eyes to focus on her toes. Her parents had asked her not to share her truth for her own safety. They’d been proved right, hadn’t they? Deneya had held a dagger to her throat on suspicion of association with Adela. What would she do if she found out Eira might be…might be of Adela’s blood?

  She slowly shook her head, raising her gaze. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s been a long day. I’m not making any sense.”

  Deneya smiled slyly. “Now it’s you who’s lying.” Eira went to counter but couldn’t get a word in. “That’s fine, Eira. Go and rest; let your head sort itself.”

  The elfin turned, folding her hands behind her back and started off into the darkness. Eira felt pulled toward her, like someone had knotted an invisible rope around her waist, tethering her to the woman. The Firebearers who were gifted future sight whispered of the red lines of fate, given to all mortals by the Mother herself. Was this what the pull of fate felt like?

  Eira stepped backwards slowly. She was just about to put her back to the woman and leave her, and the thought of her, behind when Deneya’s voice cut through the silence.

  “However…should you sort things out and wish to speak again…” Deneya glanced over her shoulder. In the moonlight the blue of her eyes took on an unnatural purple hue. “You can meet me here in two days’ time.”

  Eira stared in a stunned silence as she watched the elfin disappear into shadows as thick as the mystery that surrounded her.

  * * *

  The next morning, Eira awoke in Adela’s bed. She stared out the same small window that she imagined Adela did. She visualized the woman, a woman who looked very much like Eira herself, hunched over the desk Eira had been pouring over for weeks now.

  The Adela of Eira’s mind was cruel, cunning, equal measures wicked and…stunning. In Eira’s creations, Adela was like the magic detailed in her journals. There was something forbidden, yet alluring, about her and her knowledge.

  “There’s no way.” Eira shook her head and stared up at the ceiling. The Adela of Eira’s mind couldn’t be her birth mother. They couldn’t share blood.

  That woman was bold. She was someone to be seen and feared. Eira stared at her hands. In contrast to Adela, she was no one.

  Eira spent the day in the room. She let her stomach eat itself as she scavenged the journals for something she hadn’t seen before. She searched for some kind of piece of information that would slot neatly into the hole that now existed in the picture of herself.

  Unfortunately, the words, This is who you really are, Eira, weren’t written anywhere.

  She emerged at dinnertime, when her stomach was growling so loudly that Eira could no longer focus. Wasting away would do her no good. There were still trials to face.

  If she faced them.

  Her world was tilted and uneven. No step felt certain, or fully hers. Eira was pulled in competing, oscillating directions of “all right” and “very much not.”

  Fortunately, Alyss was nowhere to be found in the dining hall. She didn’t want to re-hash how terribly things with Marcus had gone, not even with her best friend. She just wasn’t ready. Eira ate quickly, alone, and promptly left before she could run into anyone else. As she wandered back up the tower, she initially started for Adela’s secret room, but quickly backtracked to her own bedroom.

  There was one person she’d be open to seeing. Fortunately for her, the feeling was mutual. A small envelope was waiting on her pillow.

  Eira just hoped that it wasn’t leftover from the night prior.

  Washed and dressed in fresh clothes, Eira made her way through the tower and palace. The warm glow of her and Ferro’s study was the most inviting thing she’d seen in days. Eira was all too eager to slip inside.

  “You came tonight.” He sounded, dare she even think it, eager? “I was worried you didn’t get my message when you didn’t show up last night.”

  “I’m sorry.” Eira sighed softly as she took her seat. “I…yesterday was…”

  “It was a lot.” Ferro stood from his chair and stepped around the low table between them to hover before her. Eira stared up into his bright violet eyes, swallowing hard. He knelt before her, taking both her hands in his. Ferro turned them over, looking at their fronts and backs, as if searching for remnants of her injuries. “I was worried about you,” he murmured.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “I invited you to come and visit with me and you didn’t show. Perhaps I’m being too forward…but I feared the only thing that would keep you from me was a grave injury.”

  Eira’s mouth quirked into a smile. Her cheeks felt warm but she did nothing to hide them. “I think that’s generally a fair assumption. But no grave injuries. I’m all right.” Physically, at least.

  “Good.” He didn’t make any motion away from her. Eira shifted her thumb slightly, running it over the smooth curve of his knuckle. His hands were the hands of a diplomat—soft and without callus. If he noticed the movement, he didn’t remark on it. Something bold made her do it again.

  This time, he gently stroked the back of her hand in reply, sending shivers up her spine.

  “Why did you worry about me?” she dared to ask.

  “You took some brutal falls. Anyone would’ve been worried.” He shook his head, staring off at a dark corner. “No…I was worried because I didn’t want to see you hurt. Especially when I watched and did nothing to help you.”

  “You couldn’t. If you’d intervened it would’ve disqualified me.”

  “I know, which is why I kept my magic to myself. But it…” He chuckled softly. “It physically pained me not to.”

  Her chest tightened. She didn’t know if she could believe what she
was hearing, if she should believe it. Had it been anyone else, she would allow herself to see him as…pursuing her romantically?

  “I was all right.” The words were thick and hard to say.

  “Yes, because you’re strong.” He looked back at her with a tender smile.

  “I don’t feel very strong lately,” Eira admitted, both to herself and him.

  “What has made you not feel strong?”

  “I shouldn’t say,” she whispered.

  “You can tell me anything,” he assured her. “Tell me and I will make it better. Anything for you.”

  Eira bit her lower lip. Their hands were still lightly entwined, resting on her knees. The firelight tangled in his hair, streaking it with golden strands.

  She wanted to believe him with all her might.

  “I…I found out that my birth parents weren’t who I thought they were.”

  “What?” he breathed in shock.

  “No matter how many times I say them, those words still don’t feel real.” Eira hung her head, closing her eyes. She couldn’t bear the sight of him. Neither could she deny how good speaking to someone else who had no judgment, no stakes or opinions of those involved, felt. “I’ve had so many competing thoughts and emotions. I’m sad and angry. Yet I’m also oddly relieved? As if something I’ve never understood—but never realized I understood—finally makes sense.”

  “Do you know who your birth mother was?” he asked delicately.

  “No… I was abandoned on my parents’ doorstep.”

  “Do they have any guesses by whom?”

  Eira flinched.

  Ferro’s fingers tightened around hers. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.”

  “You’ll hate me if I do.” Eira thought back to her conversation with Deneya. Maybe Deneya had told him of the interaction and Ferro was merely playing ignorant for her benefit. Or maybe Ferro had his own suspicions. If Deneya had pieced together the possibility from being familiar with Adela’s magic then Ferro, as a delegate from Meru, surely could, too.