by Kova, Elise
“I don’t have anything to do,” Eira said, breathless. “I can keep trying.”
“As fun as it is to watch you attack me with all the brute force you can muster, I have things to do.” Deneya stepped backward. “But I’ll come back tonight.”
“Why?” Eira called after her.
“Because you amuse me,” Deneya called back. “So you’re welcome to try again, Eira.”
* * *
The following week was a blur of emotions.
Eira was most calm when she was with Alyss in the library in the afternoons, debating what they were going to do for their show of creativity. Alyss would obviously craft some kind of stunning, magical sculpture from a mixture of stone, clay, and wood. But Eira still couldn’t decide what she wanted to do. Debating it was its own distraction, at least. She didn’t have to think of anything beyond what had the greatest likelihood of impressing the judges, mainly Ferro.
And Ferro… He was a whole different set of emotions—the sort of emotions that made her blush for hours, lying in her bed, long after he’d kissed her knuckles and bid her goodnight. She met him three more times that week. Not once did he mention Deneya, so neither did Eira.
But she kept meeting with Deneya as well. The two elfin couldn’t be more opposite. Ferro was as smooth as silk. Deneya was more like a dagger. She was graceful in her own way, but sharp, and at any moment could well be the last thing you saw.
Yet, for all Eira knew of the risks conceptually, she never felt at danger when it came to Deneya. Other than for a few tense seconds during their first encounter, Deneya hadn’t ever given Eira the impression she had anything to fear.
Overall, Eira felt less at odds sneaking around with her elfin friends—was “friends” the right term for them?—than she did walking in the Tower. Much like her skin had felt those first few hours after the revelation, as she and Alyss had begun to term it, the Tower no longer felt like it fit. The walkways and rooms were too small. Every corner closed in on her.
When Eira wasn’t meeting with Alyss, she chose to wander the city. She would often find herself walking to the clinic where she’d assisted before the trials, then to Margery’s Bakery, and then often down to the city gates before finally returning to the Tower.
It was on one of these walks that she saw Marcus leaving from the clinic. Eira tried to duck behind a building. But he’d seen her. This wasn’t the first time they’d crossed paths, but it was their first time outside of the Tower.
“Eira,” he said.
She turned, pretending she didn’t hear.
“Eira, wait!”
Eira stopped as he ran over. Every muscle in her neck was tense, pulling her shoulders up toward her ears.
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Taking a walk,” she answered without looking at him.
“Alyss said you go for a lot of walks these days.”
“What’re you talking to Alyss about?”
“You. I…I’ve been worried about you.”
Eira glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, skeptical. “Don’t you get it? You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“Eira, I didn’t mean what I said.”
She turned. Eira didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to confront it. Not when the trial was tomorrow.
He grabbed her shoulder, stopping her from leaving. “I’m sorry. I mean that. But not…not the other stuff. Everything came out wrong. I was so confused and my emotions were a mess. That day… I…” Marcus cursed under his breath. “Look, can we just walk back to the Tower together?”
Eira gazed up at her flustered brother. Part of her wanted to twist the proverbial knife. She wanted to be ugly and throw his words back in his face. But she couldn’t muster enough wretchedness to do that. She’d been craving normal so badly that its peaceful allure was too much to refuse.
“Fine.”
They started off together. In awkward silence, at first. But it became less uncomfortable with every step. Marcus being at her side was normal, even if it usually resulted in her being in his shadow.
“I really am sorry,” he said again, softer. The words had more weight this time.
“I forgive you.”
“Do you?” He seemed shocked.
“I think so?” Eira shrugged up at him. “I don’t…” She sighed. Deneya’s words were in her mind. If she had everything before, then she wasn’t missing something now. Sure, maybe some pieces had to be rearranged. But all the pieces were there. They always had been. Even if the colors on a few were too blurry to make out still. Maybe they always would be. “I want to try to forgive you. I know I can. And, most importantly, I don’t want to fight with you. I never did.”
“I know, I was an ass.”
“Mature of you to say so.”
“Mature of you to forgive me.”
“You might have spoken too soon. I could just be having a good day today. Maybe I’ll be angry again tomorrow and resent you for hours.” Eira put her hands in the pockets of her skirts and grinned up at him. Marcus laughed.
How cute, he thought she was kidding. Still, his laughter elicited the same from her.
“I meant to apologize sooner but—”
Eira held out her hand and shook her head. “This is nice. Let’s drop talk of the revelation for now before we ruin it, all right?”
“All right.”
Another pass of awkward silence over another twenty steps. They’d just made up. Why did she still feel so uncomfortable?
The Tower looming in the distance had Eira slowing until she came to a full stop. Marcus didn’t realize until he was several steps ahead, looking back at her with an inquisitive stare.
“Marcus?”
“Eira?”
“Am I still your sister, like you thought?” she asked so softly the wind nearly stole her words.
Pain flashed in his eyes. Marcus slowly marched back to her. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I should have never said those words—never done anything to make you feel that way.” Eira pressed her eyes closed and embraced her brother on the side of the street, allowing the world to go on around them. Not caring for any passersby they might inconvenience. “You will always be my sister. Even if you’re stubborn, or annoying, or too clever for your own good, or more gifted than me with magic.”
“I’m not more gifted than you with magic,” Eira muttered.
“You are and you know it.” He gave her a squeeze. “You’re still figuring yourself and your magic out, that’s all. But once you get it down…” Marcus pulled away with a whistle. “You’re going to stun the world.”
“The trials?” she dared to ask.
“Perhaps you’ll stun the world tomorrow at the trial.” He grinned. There was still pain and a bit of frustration in his eyes. But Marcus was clearly striving to put on a brave face.
“You don’t want me to throw them?”
“I want you to do what you want. I guess that’s something else I need to apologize for.” Marcus slung his arm around her shoulders. “Mother above, I have been a terrible brother lately, haven’t I?”
“You had room for improvement.” Eira grinned up at him. She realized this was the first time she was seeing her brother as less than perfect. In a way, it made her sad. “I’m glad we’re okay, though.”
“You and me both.”
Eira didn’t mention anything more on the trials as they entered back into the Tower. The truth remained that only one of them could progress to take the final spot as Waterrunner. Unless they were both knocked out. Perhaps that would be the best option?
Still, Eira couldn’t bring herself to hope for it. Regardless of her prospective parentage, Meru called to her and she was going to do whatever it took to get to it.
19
In the Tower library there was a clock hung over the mantle of the fireplace. It was a large, iron thing—an early prototype
from Norin, likely over a hundred years old. The exposed gears whirred and ticked loudly, marking the agonizingly slow passage of time.
Eira paced, alone.
The Tower was silent. Everyone—instructors, apprentices, and candidates—had gone to the Sunlit Stage early this morning to watch the trial. Times were posted last night. But, like the last trial, Eira’s slot was the very last of all the Waterrunners.
“You’re trying to spite me, I know it,” Eira muttered to the thought of her uncle. She could just see him scheduling her last in the day to try and make her nerves work against her. She wasn’t going to let him win. She would keep a cool head and stay focused.
“Who is?” Cullen’s voice startled her from her thoughts.
“You could’ve killed me from shock.” Eira gripped her shirt over her heart. “What’re you doing here?”
“It’s the Tower… I’m allowed to be here?” He grinned, leaning against one of the bookshelves and exuding an air of arrogance like he owned the whole palace.
“That’s not what I was asking and you know it.”
“You’re asking why I’m not with the rest of the masses at the Sunlit Stage? I had some business to attend to with my father.” He motioned to his formal clothes. “I was going to change and then see who I could. Have you gone yet?”
“No…I’m the last one.”
“Good, then I should see what you have decided to present.”
“You seem happy about that.” Eira had kept fairly tight-lipped with everyone about what her creation would be. She didn’t want anyone to talk her out of it—wouldn’t take much to do so.
“Should I not be?”
“I thought you wanted my brother to take the Waterrunner spot.”
Cullen mulled over his next words, holding her in suspense. “I want the best Waterrunner to have the spot. I thought that was your brother.”
“But you don’t anymore?” Eira asked hesitantly. She was unexpectedly nervous about what the answer might be.
“I’m going to let the trials play out as they were meant to.” Cullen pushed off from the bookcase and strolled over to her. His eyes turned serious, intense. “How are you, Eira?”
“I’m fine.” She glanced away.
He lightly touched her exposed forearm. The contact sent shivers up her spine. For some reason, she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the day at court…his fingers in her hair…his mouth on hers. The memory shifted and suddenly it was Ferro kissing her.
Eira shook her head, scattering the thoughts. She couldn’t allow her focus to wane now.
“Are you?” he asked, clearly misinterpreting her expression. “Given the shock you had, it’s all right if you’re not.”
“I am as fine as I can be.”
“Ah, so not fine at all.”
“Don’t impose your perceptions on me,” she cautioned.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t layer my family problems and tensions over yours.” He stepped away with a grin. Cullen said the words like a joke, but there was real pain in his eyes. He hovered, halfway between the entrance to the library and her.
“Yes?” Eira finally asked.
“Speaking of my family…” he said thoughtfully. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“What is it?” Eira resisted remarking that the mighty Cullen needed her for something. He’d made it clear how much he disliked that sort of talk. She would respect his wishes.
“Would you come to court again with me next week?”
That was the last thing she wanted to do. Yet… “I guess I can. I suppose I owe you.”
“You know what, forget it.” He backtracked quickly at her hesitancy. “No one wants to go to that horrible place.”
“Cullen, stop.” Eira rushed over to him. When he kept moving, she grabbed his hand. Cullen turned to meet her eyes. “I’ll go. It’s an excuse to wear that pretty dress you gave me again, if nothing else.”
“You’ll need a new pretty dress. We can’t let the ladies of court see you wearing the same thing twice.” He chuckled softly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The movement was so natural that both of them seemed to realize it happened on a delay. They stared at each other in a second of stunned silence that he had willingly touched her in an almost affectionate way.
“You don’t have to get me another dress,” she murmured.
“I’d like to.” Cullen stepped away and Eira released him. “Besides, you’re doing me the favor, remember?”
“I suppose…” It was dawning on her that he hadn’t said why he wanted her to go to court yet. But Eira didn’t have a chance to ask.
“Excellent. Good luck out there. I look forward to seeing your creation.” Cullen made a hasty retreat. Almost…too hasty. Like he was nervous?
Eira shook her head and pushed the notion from her mind. She had to stay focused. Now, more than ever, she needed a handle on her thoughts and her emotions.
When the clock chimed fifteen minutes before her time to present, Eira finally left the Tower. She took the back passages through the palace, avoiding others as much as possible. She didn’t want to see or hear anything.
She emerged out of the walls of the Sunlit Stage by one of the lower entries to the fading cheers for the person before her.
“You, there.” A guard she didn’t recognize rushed over. “Are you Eira Landan?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank the Mother, we thought you’d be a no-show.” The guard ushered her toward the entry.
“A no-show?” she asked.
“The minister said you might be.”
“Of course he did,” Eira mumbled.
“Doesn’t matter, you’re up.”
With a small shove, Eira was thrust into the Sunlit Stage, alone, and with easily a thousand eyes watching her from the stands.
Word of the trials seemed to have spread quickly, collecting an audience from all walks of life. People of all shapes, colors, and sizes packed the stands. Eira turned, blinking, taking them all in. She didn’t know if she was more relieved or hurt to not find her parents among them this time. Every pair of eyes stared down on her, judging silently.
But the real judges were the four individuals sitting behind a table on the stage portion of the Sunlit Stage. The emperor and empress sat flanked by Ferro and Cordon respectively. Ambassador Cordon was flipping through some papers, glancing at her and making a few marks. Vhalla and Aldrik both stared down at her from what felt like a mountaintop.
Ferro’s eyes were familiar, but his gaze was not. He wore the expression of an ambassador—cold and cut off. Along the back of the stage were palace guards, sorcerers peppered among them—Fritz and Deneya included. They both kept a close eye on Eira as she approached the center of the arena.
Eira wrung her hands and quickly stopped the nervous motion. It was replaced by a bite of her lip. But she at least stood a little straighter.
She felt alone, laid bare, vulnerable. Eira took a breath and fought against the urge to surround herself in ice. That would certainly be a creation. But any Waterrunner could do something of the like.
The magic in her set Eira apart from the rest. She just had to find the courage to put it on display.
“Eira Landan,” the emperor spoke, “you will have ten minutes to present a creation of your choice. It must be entirely housed within the area and cannot pose a danger to anyone gathered here or the arena itself. Do you have any questions?”
“I do not,” Eira said softly. Wishing her voice boomed as the emperor’s did.
“Then your time begins now.” The emperor reached for an hourglass on the table and flipped it. The sand began pouring from top to bottom, no doubt carefully calibrated to ten minutes exactly.
Eira took a deep breath, held it, and closed her eyes. This was it. Time for what would likely be the dumbest choice of her life.
The muscles tightened in her ears as she strained to listen. She wanted to hear every creak of the stands above her as the excited crowd
shifted. She wanted to hear Ferro’s breathing. She wanted to hear as though her ears were long and pointed, not short and rounded.
No…she didn’t want to hear with her ears at all. She wanted to hear with her magic.
The arena was a dry lake—her lake. It was thirsty, waiting to be filled. Eira let her power seep from her. She imagined water springing up from around her feet, quickly filling the whole place to the brim.
When Eira opened her eyes, the stage was still as dry as a bone. But she felt every corner. Her power stretched, ebbing and flowing, searching.
“What is she going to do?” someone asked loudly from above.
Someone else yawned.
More murmuring.
Cordon tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. His pen scratched loudly on his notes. The emperor and empress waited, as perfect as statues. Ferro kept his face passive.
He’d asked what she intended…but Eira hadn’t told him. She’d wanted it to be a surprise. She wanted to impress him.
Eira closed her eyes again and furrowed her brow. She heard everything but nothing she was listening for. The crowd’s restlessness was growing. More murmurs. Some laughter. They thought she was doing nothing when really she was trying to do something that everyone had shunned her whole life. Everyone had said it was impossible.
She was going to show them the limits of what was possible, here and now.
“Quiet,” Eira murmured. They were being too noisy. So many people that the walls were silent. “Stop talking, please,” she said, louder. No one seemed to hear. “Silence!” Eira shouted. Her voice felt like it echoed across the whole city.
Everyone fell into a stunned hush. And in that moment of blessed peace, Eira heard a whisper.
She opened her eyes with a start. Immediately they found the crown the empress wore. It was different from the emperor’s—from what would be expected of a Solaris Empress. The Empire was gilded. Everything that glittered was truly gold under the Solaris sun.
But Vhalla’s crown was silver, ornate, and adorned with western rubies.
Eira strung her magic to the crown. It was hard, from a distance. Usually, when she worked with vessels she could place them in water and directly manipulate the magic within them with her own.