by Dana Swift
“What are you going to tell Adraa about tonight?” he asks.
“That we have a problem.” I peer into his eyes. “What are you going to tell Raja Jatin?”
He smiles. “That I met a witch.”
Life as raja of Naupure isn’t much different from being at the academy. Instead of mind-numbing history and geography lessons, I attend mind-numbing meetings about the fate of all that geography and culture. Okay, it’s completely different from school. I have to make decisions constantly. I have to read reports and letters incessantly. I have to still find time to study spells, without designated training time attached to such memorization.
Life like this is what I always imagined it to be. Advisors stretching out their hands, but not daring to grab hold as I wobble along a cliff’s edge. Me walking through the palace as faceless wizards and witches buzz with demands or questions, mostly both. A voice sounding like the amalgamation of my teachers and my father yelling, “Learn, train, you must because one day you will rule! Messing up or giving up means not only personal failure but also your country’s demise!”
I never realized it before, but training was my release. After hours filling my brain, letting my Touch cast off spell after spell was my way to shout back at the voice, “I’m working! I’m trying! I won’t fail!” So when I spot Kalyan and other guards sweating in the heat on the long patch of the training yard, I rise from my father’s chair.
* * *
I had gone through every single type of magic besides pink, and only because I haven’t broken anybody’s bones. Next to me stands a tree singed with fire, stabbed with spears, and with every leaf blown off. The ground is muddy with water and melting snow. I’ve lifted boulders and I’ve turned practically invisible. It’s been a morning of release.
Kalyan plops down in the dirt next to me when I finally sit. I told him everything about Adraa hours ago. He’s been quiet the whole time I wrestled with nature. But I presume he will say something now. It’s like he knows when I’m ready to be talked to.
“Let me try to understand this again. You are telling me Adraa doesn’t know who you really are, at all?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“And she’s lying to you too?”
“Yes.”
Kalyan whistles. “Blood.”
That about sums it up.
“And again, why aren’t you telling her?” he asks.
“Because…”
Kalyan peers at the sky. “She hates you, doesn’t she? Told you all those letters were going to end badly.”
I chuckle morbidly. “She doesn’t hate me. She hates Jatin, or at least the idea of him. Thinks he is arrogant and cold.”
“Where did she get that from?” he says, deadpan, and raises an eyebrow in case I still don’t catch his meaning.
I gather some dirt and let it drizzle through my fingers.
Kalyan squints at me, then leans back on one arm. “Gods, now I get it. You want this to be like a normal relationship. You are trying to, ah, what’s the word…” He snaps his fingers. “Court her, get her to like you. That’s why you are lying.”
“And you think that’s so terrible?”
“I think when she finds out, it’s going to cause all sorts of trouble. And what about me? Your future wife thinks I’m her fiancé. That’s messed up. What if I run into her?” He pauses, then raises his eyebrows like an idiot. “What if she tries to kiss me?”
I snap to attention. “Okay, first of all, you aren’t that lucky or charming. Second, don’t worry, she hates you.”
“Because she thinks I’m Jatin Naupure?”
“Yep.”
“If I get fired over this, I swear,” he grumbles.
I give him a look. “You knew nothing about it.”
He lies down on his back. “You’re right. I don’t know a thing.”
I lie back too and stare at the clouds. Summer is nice to the clouds, makes them puffy and white. And I like that. I like their freshness. What’s so wrong with the color white anyway?
“Hey, Kalyan, what’s your favorite color?”
My friend sits up again and gives me the “do I need to be concerned about you?” look. I keep my attention on the clouds to maintain casualness.
“Orange,” he finally answers.
“What? Really?” I have to look at him now.
“Yeah, the sky only turns orange when it’s at peace.”
Peace. Not something Kalyan has seen much of. My memory plunges back to the night of the Southern Bay monsoon. How I strained my thirteen-year-old body and scream-casted to calm water, wind, and upturned earth. The rescue teams pulled so many bodies from the water or from under buildings it was like we had wrenched them up from a graveyard. Kalyan was one of the last I found—an eleven-year-old squeezed between a clay wall and a wood pillar impaling his calf. When I pried the wood from the kid, it was as if I had saved a younger version of myself. He looked like my twin.
His odds of survival were low, especially during the amputation. When his parents’ bodies were found, I thought he would lose hope and that would be the end of this kid who I kept skipping class to visit. I showed off my magic to him and he was only kind of impressed, but maybe that was enough, I had thought. So, I made a promise: “When you get out of the clinic you can come to the academy with me.”
I remember the way he had eyed me. “That fancy one?”
“Yep. I’ll even help train you, and I’m the best.”
“Okay,” he had said. And Gods, the way he said it—casual like, but so deeply full of hope. And he did recover. I wrote to tell my father I had found my perfect lead guard if he would fund his education. And he had.
Kalyan may think he got lucky. May think he got to be my friend and my guard only because he looks like and can impersonate me. He may even think he can be fired. But he’s got it so wrong. I’m the lucky one to be friends with a guy who almost bled to death, lost his parents and his lower leg, and yet knows orange skies still exist.
And now I feel as if it is my duty to find Adraa and let her rub in the fact that one’s favorite color is an acceptable and telling question. But maybe that would further present me as conceited.
“Wait, favorite color? Is that an Adraa thing?” Kalyan asks.
I face him and the fading sun. “If you are about to make a joke—”
“No, no joke. Wait, I’ll be right back.” Kalyan jogs over to the barracks and disappears. I turn to the palace and begin mapping out how many people I have to talk to, how many reports I need to read. Curiosity at Kalyan’s outburst and instructions grounds me, but obligation pulls at me to get up and get back to work.
Kalyan barrels back across the field. “I think this is yours.” He offers up something flimsy and small. It’s an envelope, an envelope with Jaya’s handwriting on the front.
I jump to my feet quicker than any living animal and tear it open.
Hey,
So I have that shipment that still needs to be hauled back to its rightful owner.
Meet me one before dusk?
Sincerely,
A girl whose favorite color is pink
I scrutinize the sun and its drooping form mocks me. “When did you get this?”
“Early this morning.”
I grumble and wipe my neck. “Why didn’t you give it to me sooner?”
“Firstly, it has my name on it. Secondly, I safeguard all incoming mail. But know what? I’ll start handing over all the wild proposals or death threats Azure Palace receives from now on since you are so interested.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“So it’s from her, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, good luck forming a normal relationship or whatnot when the girl is already speaking in code.”
“Yeah, but it’s code I understand!” I yell over my shoulder as I run. I think Kalyan’s call of “for now” is meant to slam into my back, but it pushes me forward instead.
The sun yawns to the east, splashing the sky in an orange glaze, which means Kalyan didn’t get my note, ignored it, or couldn’t get away from Azure Palace. I hope it’s the too-busy one. I glance at all the firelight even though I know how much is left. I’ve already flown home three times with saddlebags full of it. But since I have to deliver a thousand orbs to Azure Palace in a few days I was hoping Kalyan would still appear and help me haul. But it might be too late for that.
My heart races as I reload my saddlebag. Why am I this anxious? Is it because I don’t just want Kalyan to help haul? Maybe…I want to see his face again. He does have a nice smile, an amazing smile. I stare at my right hand. It’s probably my imagination, but the pressure of his hand squeezing mine lingers.
For the twentieth time I wrestle with my conscience. Kalyan doesn’t need to know who I really am. It’s safer that way. But the truth swells to the surface and pulses where he touched me. It feels good not being a royal around Kalyan, maybe…too good.
“Hey,” a voice calls.
I jump, a spasm that seizes my heart and flips it sideways. “Blood!” I gasp.
Kalyan stands by the wooden pier with a guilty smile. My heart hammers away. I breathe to calm it down, but it continues to pound. It’s the fright, I tell myself.
He holds up his arms in surrender. “Sorry, that wasn’t revenge for the other night or anything. I’m just glad you’re still here.”
“So you did get the letter.” Gods, Adraa, what a stupid question. He is standing right before you. Of course he got the letter.
“A bit late. But I got it.”
“Good.” I nod and look down at the firelight awkwardly. I suddenly can’t seem to think.
Kalyan squats next to me. “You’ve already taken some?”
“Couldn’t wait all night,” I tease.
“I won’t be late again.” His tone is dead serious, the chilling opposite of mine.
With those words, my hammering heart wobbles and I…smile. Blood. What’s wrong with me? If he is teasing me again, I can’t show it gets to me, that I enjoy it. That I really do believe he will be here next time.
Ah, what am I doing? He. Is. Jatin’s. Guard. And I’m a future maharani. My heart, doing whatever the blood it’s doing, doesn’t change that.
I fumble for a topic change. “The palace must be hectic without Maharaja Naupure around. And before you ask how I know he’s gone, Maharaja Naupure messaged Belwar Palace asking for support if something should happen in his absence. Also to say the firelight delivery is still on…so that’s how I know.”
He shakes his head. “I never think you’re a potential threat to the Naupures until you start rambling.”
“I’m just pointing out how I know things.”
He chuckles, but quickly follows it with a sigh. “The answer is yes. The palace is hectic.”
I wish I had the chance to prove myself for a few weeks. Would I get a letter any day now with Jatin bragging? I’ve been dreading it, seething with jealousy. Or maybe our letters are over since he is only a mountain range away? I don’t know. “Raja Jatin handling it well?”
“Don’t think he has had to handle anything too complicated yet. I would say I do all the heavy lifting.” Kalyan heaves a wicker crate off another one and rips it open with one clean swipe of green magic.
“Was that supposed to impress me?”
“What are you talking about?” he asks with a smile.
Gods, he is so easy to read. I know exactly what kind of reaction he wants. I continue to stuff the firelight in my bag, not giving it to him. “Nothing.”
“I’ll let you admit you find me impressive when you are ready.” The comment slinks out in a sarcastic whisper, but I hear it nonetheless.
I look up, but Kalyan is packing firelight as if he didn’t say anything.
“Don’t do it,” I say suddenly.
“What?”
“Don’t let Jatin’s arrogance rub off on you.”
“Oh Gods, you really do hate him.” Kalyan shakes his head. “There’s a lot of work to be done.” He gestures to the firelight, implying we should focus on our task. And yet, there is something in his tone, something I have yet to uncover.
* * *
We work under the veil of black magic as the orange sky deepens to navy. An hour later, four bags are packed and teeming with orbs. Kalyan is about to lift the strap of one over his shoulder when I hear something, footsteps-atop-the-pier kind of something. The black magic drapes around us, but not on top. If the owners of those footsteps peered between the planks of wood they would see us.
Without a second thought I push Kalyan against a pillar and jab a finger upward in warning. His furrowed eyebrows arch into understanding and he places the bag of firelight in the sand softly.
After our last visit it’s clear that Pier Sixteen doesn’t exist to the good citizens of Belwar, so some random wizard or witch isn’t going to be strolling overhead. This has to be Vencrin.
“Are you verifying it as well? The Red Bitch has a partner,” a deep voice says.
Kalyan and I lock eyes. Definitely Vencrin.
“A white forte wizard. Tore up and burned the ship with her.”
Deep Voice sighs. “Had to see it myself. Nasty piece of work she’s done here. She’s becoming more confident, more of a problem. We can’t let that happen.”
“What do you suggest?” the other man asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.
“What I have suggested from the beginning. Kill her, and this new partner of hers too.”
A tremble runs through me and I know Kalyan felt it. There’s no way he couldn’t. I’m practically plastered to him. That is until he pulls me even closer and the “practically” incinerates.
The other man, the subordinate, shifts his weight above us, obviously mulling over the simplicity of Deep Voice’s instructions. Kill her, and this new partner of hers. “And what about the Belwars? The eldest daughter, Adraa, knows about Basu and the shipments.”
“Don’t worry about the Belwars. Everything is heating up nicely. It’s perfectly pressurized. You just focus on stopping this Red Woman.”
Well, I guess I should be glad only one of my personae will be hunted down. Kalyan slowly runs a hand over my shoulder blade in a circular motion and I give up the act that I’m not clinging to him. His heart hammers as loudly as mine.
“How?”
“The easiest way would be to discover who the blood she is,” Deep Voice growls. “Have someone at each exchange ready to follow her. Our best black forte or one of your guards.”
“About that. There’s something else you should know.”
“Well? Out with it!” Deep Voice yells.
“Yipton, one of my Dome Guards, was loading the ship that night.”
“And?”
“He is under suspicion. As well as many of my men.”
A shadow falls over Kalyan and me. Even the pier boards shudder. He’s right over us. “So we have also been compromised in the Dome?”
The guardsman steps back. “Not entirely. Just some of the men who work the city with me.”
“And as the head of my guard unit you tell me this only now?”
“I—”
“Can you fix it?” The Deep Voice is hard.
A pause, drawn out. “It will take some time. And I can’t guarantee—”
He doesn’t make it to the next word. Deep Voice casts a spell and his “friend” tumbles on the pier in a thudding heap. Dust plumes off the boards above our heads. My heart jumps.
“We can’t be compromised,” Deep Voice says. Then he casts under his breath.
The pier
above us vibrates as the fallen wizard spasms. The back of my throat tastes like ash. Wood-rattling, scream-piercing, illegal, and against the very nature of pink magic, a torture spell unravels above. And never-ending! my heart screams. Never-ending until death…I unpeel myself from Kalyan’s strong arms and step toward the black magic veil. I can take this man out and save the writhing wizard. Kalyan grabs my arm and pulls me back. The anguished look on his face shakes some sense into me. And I realize I am shaking too.
Mask, he mouths, and gestures at me.
We both know I can’t cast on my mask from right under this dangerous wizard. The red smoke would alert him of our presence, and then all this firelight, neatly packed up, would be in jeopardy.
But by the sound of the seizure’s strength, the man above us doesn’t have much time left; he might already be comatose. I shut my eyes and squeeze, wanting to block out the noise and frothing panic spilling out above us. Is this deep-voiced wizard the one that put Riya’s dad in a coma too? I grind my teeth and hold still. I don’t know how I’m able to control the anger growing in my stomach or the impulse to fight this man. I’ve never quite controlled my anger like this before.
Kalyan’s hands are still hooked onto my arm, half hugging me, half restraining me from my own dangerous impulse to punch first and deal with the consequences later. Maybe that is what’s keeping me under control.
Above, the shaking ends and the groans take over.
“I need guarantees. This…” Deep Voice pauses. Maybe he’s gesturing to the burned ship. “Needs to be fixed now.” He steps over his comrade’s body and walks down the pier.
I shift away from Kalyan. He lunges for me, but I have to see this wizard’s face. To be so close to the Vencrin leader, or at least one of the leaders, and not get any physical description would be a waste of this miracle. I scurry to the edge of our veil and crane my neck. All I see is his back in the distance. He wears a dark cloak, blending in with the growing darkness.