The dark corridors were striped with narrow strips of pink morning light as I jogged to keep warm. The castle’s library inhabited the south corner of the keep, where several lifetimes’ worth of knowledge slept. Knowledge that would help me decipher the note.
I slipped through the library’s tall doors with a contented sigh. I couldn’t help it. Even with the threats and changes looming, the quiet reverence of all these books settled my soul. I would miss this room more than my chambers. More, even, than the practice ring.
It was the loveliest room in the castle, with tall ceilings and wide windows, which framed the cottony clouds tinged with pink and orange spread over the light-blue sky. Here, light could filter in. Heavy blue drapes lined the windows to protect the leather-bound manuscripts from harsh lighting. The air tasted like a soup of tranquility and dust. I wandered to a shelf, brushing my fingers over the thick spines.
My feet guided me to a section I’d been forbidden from studying. There were only a few rows of books that referenced magic in the entire library—not even enough to fill an entire shelf. But when my father had caught me studying the history of mages, he’d slammed the book I was reading closed and said I would be barred from the southern wing entirely if he caught me studying magic again.
I hated it, but I couldn’t risk my secret getting out. I was a princess who fought like a soldier, who stayed cooped up in the castle. Having an interest in magic would tip the scale of opinion from eccentric to dangerous.
But now I was leaving. And soon I would no longer be a Hálendian princess at all.
I hefted a stack of books off the shelf and sat tucked away at a wooden table in an alcove near a window. I flipped through page after page, scanning for any reference to the mages’ library or a key.
During my restless night, I’d come to a depressing conclusion. The mystery of the burned note wasn’t my burden to solve. There was no way for me to figure out who wrote it, even less of a chance I’d find out who burned it. Not in one day.
But I could find out more about the mages’ library. If I could ease Ren’s burdens in North Watch, or my father’s worries, I would do it.
I snapped one book closed and pulled another, then another. Everywhere I searched, the mages’ library was mentioned only in passing as a stronghold for magical texts and artifacts after magic was banished from the Continent after the Great War.
I’d been allowed to study the war—its end had been the birth of Hálendi. When the first emperor finally defeated the power-hungry mages tearing the Continent apart, he’d exiled everything to do with magic—all the manuscripts, artifacts, any source of knowledge—across the sea, here to the Plateau. His son had been the first Hálendian king.
My hand stopped when I pulled out the next book. Turia. Had it been shelved in the wrong place? My brow furrowed, but I cracked open the worn cover, and its scent, like an ancient, musky forest, wafted up. The pages were so old the parchment was almost translucent.
I’d studied the kingdom south of ours with my tutors; I knew how much grain they produced in a year, how much fruit their orchards yielded. Their healers were the best on the Plateau, maybe even better than those on the Continent.
I knew so many things about Turians, yet I couldn’t fathom myself among them. Although with Ren leaving for North Watch, I wasn’t sure I could picture myself here without him, either.
My fingers ghosted over the pages, skimming over faded ink. A brief mention of magic caught my eye. I went back to the top of the page and read more carefully, but it was only a mention of a Turian scribe named Jershi who studied magical history and lore. His writings were in Turania’s palace library. Perhaps I could continue my study there and send on any information I might find about the mages’ library. My stomach twisted into another knot, and I kept reading.
There were notes on Turians’ skill in making pottery and bronze statuary, their preferred weapons and style of government, and how their language had changed over the years because of Hálendi’s influence. A flash of gold popped out as I flipped through the pages, and I thumbed back until I found the glint that had caught my eye.
It was an illustration of a Turian family. I glanced at a note in tiny script underneath. Royal Family, it read, and was dated over one hundred years ago. I gulped, unable to look away. Four boys with dark hair, all gangly limbs, stood stoically around a woman with tightly curled hair seated next to a man with thick eyebrows. I rested my chin in my hand to keep it from trembling. They all had rather unfortunate noses.
I swallowed and studied the family closer. The boys wore loose shirts with only three buttons at the top, and no collar. Their shirts were tucked into their straight trousers, and their trousers were tucked into knee-high boots. They wore ornately embroidered vests, all shades of brown and gold. Their features weren’t as angular and harsh as those I’d seen on the men around me, and their eyes were a deep brown.
I ran my fingers over the page. A rustle of excitement started in my belly. I’d rarely been allowed outside the castle walls. My mother and I had been on a trip to her hometown when she’d suddenly fallen ill and died. Ever since, my father had refused to let me venture far—or anywhere, really. I’d been in the city surrounding the castle only a handful of times.
While I hated it, I understood the fear and anguish that backed my father’s demands. I felt them with him through the tethers. It was the same fear that now drove him to send me to Turia.
Everything I knew about the world beyond was because of these books and Mistress Edda, the guardian of the library and my tutor since before I could hold a sword. I didn’t know what I’d do without her and her abundant patience with my questions. But no matter how much she taught me, my heart ached to see more than golden hair and white snow and the occasional visitor from afar.
A hand dropped onto my shoulder. Without thinking, I twisted away and grabbed the wrist, pulling hard toward the table and pushing my chair back into whoever had crept up behind me.
“Whoa!”
I pursed my lips and let go of my brother’s wrist, taking a deep breath to calm my stuttering heart. “How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?” I asked, more sharply than I meant to.
Even though his appearance hadn’t changed since yesterday, I hadn’t noticed until now that Ren no longer looked like the boy who had taught me to fight when we were little. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his blond hair long enough to brush his collar, his white streak prominently displayed. He was kind and charismatic. He was a leader. Our paths were always meant to diverge—with him as king and me as…something else. But I thought we’d have more time.
He’d also failed to tell me about the betrothal.
Ren tilted his head at my tone, then pushed me aside so he could sit at the table. “I like the challenge.”
“You have a death wish,” I said as I piled other books on top of the Turian royal family with long noses.
“Aren’t princesses supposed to be demure?” he asked, batting his eyes.
I snorted. “I’m a princess of warriors. Don’t ambush me.”
He leaned back and stretched his legs under the table. “That’s why Father wants you in a dress, you know. Fewer places to hide weapons and less of a chance you’ll accidentally stab someone when you aren’t paying attention.”
He grabbed the corner of the top book and angled it so he could see the title stamped on the cover. “History of the Great War?” he asked. “Delving into the forbidden shelf, are we?”
I pursed my lips and fought down a wave of nerves. “What could Father possibly punish me with? He’s already sending me away.”
Ren shifted in his chair. The emotions from his tether, always deep in the background, rose up, though I didn’t need magic to sense his unease. “At least we get to go together,” he said with a glance around the empty library.
I rubbed a
t a black knot in the dark wood table. “How long have you known?”
“About the betrothal? Not until yesterday afternoon. No one did.”
I swallowed. At least he hadn’t kept the secret for long. “Who else did he tell? And why wasn’t I there when he told them? Why didn’t you warn me?”
Ren squirmed. “It was only me and General Leland. I was meeting with Father when the general arrived from North Watch. Father told him he’d be escorting you to Turia, and it just sort of came out. He said he was about to look for you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have told you first.”
I nodded, accepting his apology. “You didn’t want to be the one to break the news.” I exhaled a long breath. “I guess I wouldn’t want to, either, if I were you.” I brushed the pages of the nearest book open to a map of the Plateau, running my finger over the Wastelands west of the Wild. “Do you know who it is that Father doesn’t trust?”
Ren shook his head, uncharacteristically serious. “He’s been worried about the border, but I didn’t realize he didn’t trust his own council.”
We sat in silence for a long moment. “I don’t think you should go to North Watch,” I said quietly. His annoyance immediately flared. “It’s not because I don’t think you can do it,” I hurried to add.
He squinted at me. “Don’t read my emotions like that—it’s not fair.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “It’s the only thing my magic can do. I might as well use it if I’m going to all the trouble to hide it,” I grumbled. “If we told Father about the tethers, we could find out if it’s more than just the connection, or if I could use my magic to help in North—”
“No.” Ren’s quiet voice cut into my argument. “Absolutely not. He is bound by the laws and the people.”
“But I would never try to take the throne from you! I know some madwoman two hundred years ago inherited magic and tried to kill her brother, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do the same.”
Ren leaned closer, his elbows on the table. “We’ve talked about this. Someone else could claim you should be on the throne. With the raids in the north, we cannot afford even a hint of division.”
My head began to ache. “I know.” I paused, weighing my words before speaking. “Ren, why hasn’t father used his magic to end the raids?”
I had vague memories of him pushing boulders and digging holes without a shovel. But it had been years. Whispers floated around court about him, though, about how there hadn’t been a king who could move earth in ages, maybe since Kais himself, the first king.
My brother shifted in his seat and scratched at the chain that now hung around his neck. “Father’s magic is weak. He hasn’t had to use it in years. He depends on the magic of the Medallion to guide him.”
I licked my lips and stared at his chest. “What’s it like?” I asked reverently.
Ren grinned and untucked the Medallion from his shirt. He leaned closer and held it out to me, though he kept the chain around his neck.
My eyes widened, and I matched his grin. At first touch, a tingle sparked in my fingertips. My breath hitched. I traced the aged runes on the front.
“I didn’t know there was anything on the back,” I said as I turned it over and studied the sporadic markings, rubbing the pads of my fingers over them. “Do you know what they mean?”
He shrugged. “Maker’s marks, I think.”
“Do you feel different? Wearing it?” I reluctantly set the Medallion in his palm, and he tucked it back under his shirt.
A hint of uncertainty danced on his tether. He shrugged. “Maybe a little. Father says I’ll learn to trust it in time.”
My shoulders fell. “I wish I could be here for that.” A lump formed in my throat. I put my head in my hands. “I kept the tethers a secret my whole life so I wouldn’t be sent away. And now I’m being shipped off regardless.”
Ren’s grin faded. He rubbed the leg of his trousers for a moment, then reached for a book in front of us. “Did you find anything useful?” he asked as he scanned the open pages.
I shrugged. “Not really. Everyone’s already heard the legend of how the mages’ library contains their magcial secrets and is protected by enchantments. Nothing about a key. No hint at where it is.”
Ren shifted the stack until the Turian royal family peeked out. I tried to shut that book, but he grabbed it from my hands and pulled it closer.
“Researching magic, huh?” His smile grew crooked. “Magic…and Turian men?”
A blush burned in my cheeks, and I dropped my forehead on the table with a thunk. “How am I going to face this alone?”
“I think the whole point of a betrothal is that you won’t be alone.”
I scowled at him, but he only waggled his eyebrows at me, eyes sparkling.
I pushed him, hard enough to knock him out of his chair, but he held tight to the table. Underneath his teasing exterior, his tether flared with worry.
“I’m serious, Ren. I know a bit about their customs, but not enough to marry their prince. I…” I fiddled with the end of my braid. “Will I have to hide it still?”
Ren pursed his lips and stared out the large windows. “You can never tell anyone about your magic,” he whispered, so quietly I almost missed his words.
My fingers, suddenly cold, shut the book on the Turians. I’d kept my secret for seventeen years; I would have to continue keeping it. But the thought of not having Ren there, not having a confidant, made the burden heavy.
Ren cleared his throat and bumped my shoulder. “Just ignore everyone like you always do. He’s a better choice than marrying some fish-head from Riiga.”
I tried to shake off my mood. This was the last day we had at home. “Even if his nose is too long for his face?”
Ren’s laughter burst out in the silence of the library. “He’s not as handsome as me, but I think the Turian royals may have grown into their noses over time.”
I rolled my eyes. “So.” I licked my lips. “Do you approve of the arrangement?” Ren had met the Turian heir, Prince Enzo, once on a state visit, but I’d been too busy training to care.
Ren rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, he’s kind of boring. And pretentious.”
I groaned.
“But you’ll be queen of an entire kingdom. And if we get the northern border under control—”
“The contract is signed. And you need the troops.”
He scratched behind his ear. “I could always threaten to abdicate and live in the countryside with you.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows, but I felt his stress—stretched between my father and me, between his duty and his desires.
“The countryside would be wasted on you, Ren.” Thinking of him anywhere near fighting made me sick, but I wouldn’t be the one to keep him from his task. “You’ll be brilliant in North Watch. Probably end the whole thing in a week.” I managed to pull one side of my face into a smile.
His eyes crinkled with a smile in return. “A week? I give it five days.”
A single laugh escaped me. I swallowed before it could turn into anything else.
“I’m still worried for you,” I whispered.
He lowered his voice, all traces of levity gone. “I know, Jenna. But you’ll have the tethers to make sure I’m okay. Or,” he added, lips quirking, “to let you know the exact moment of my death. Either way.”
I elbowed him in the stomach. “Not funny, Ren. Not even close.”
He leaned away to dodge the blow, and his chair tipped over, dumping him onto the floor in a heap. My laugh echoed through the library as he stood and brushed himself off with a grin.
“Hey.” He touched my shoulder and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in blue cloth. “For your birthday.”
My lips spread in a slow smile as I took the gift. It was small and rectangular, about the size of my hand.
“Go on,” Ren urged.
I bit my lip and peeled back the wrapping. It was a tiny leather-bound book. Flora and Fauna of the Wild. “Thank you,” I said, holding it to my chest.
He shrugged, but a hint of pink tinged his cheekbones. “Leland will keep you safe in the Wild as long as you stay on the road, but this way you won’t have to ask them what every strange plant or unearthly creature is.”
My fingers itched to open its pages and see what kind of creatures he meant. “It’s perfect.”
Ren cleared his throat and set his hands on his hips. “No more melancholy things on your birthday. Breakfast should be ready soon, and—”
“Glaciers!” I shot out of my chair and scrambled to close the books. “I can’t. Master Hafa is expecting me in the ring!”
Ren took the books I was gathering out of my arms. “I’ll take your gift to your chambers. You’d better go. If you’re late, he’ll make you run laps around the palace all day, birthday or not.”
“Thank you!” I called as I sprinted into the corridor.
While the servants were up and busy at this hour, at least no courtiers would see me racing through the halls, past the kitchens with fresh bread cooling on racks, and into the yard.
The white granite wall glowed in the rays of morning light as I ran the slushy paths to the round barracks building. I kicked my boots against the door, shook off the bite of the early morning air, and stepped inside.
The practice area was as large as the dining hall in the castle, but circular. The rough stone walls had stood for centuries, but the wood doors and shutters over the long, thin slots nestled at the roofline were newer. It was drafty, but as Master Hafa liked to point out, battles were rarely conducted inside. Two practice rings outlined with short wooden fencing took the majority of the space—a large oval to the left for enlisted soldiers, and a small ring on the right for nobility. The latter would have been filled fifty years ago, but it was always empty these days.
I wove my way through the small crowd already gathered around the larger ring, looking for Master Hafa. I felt eyes on me, a slight itch between my shoulder blades. When I turned, no one was staring, but General Leland, my father’s highest-ranking commander, and his advisor and friend, stood against the wall, his focus on the main contest. A jolt reminded me that he knew I’d be leaving. He knew of my betrothal. How many others here had heard of it already?
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