Cast in Firelight

by Dana Swift

  She has the decency to look down at the orange fabric guiltily. “Ah, maybe.”

  A knot tightens in my stomach. Prisha knows my sleeping habits; she goes into my room unannounced and into my closet. What else could she have seen there? “Did Zara give it to you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Gods, I thought she was past stealing my clothes a few years ago. “So you just took it?”

  “I always return it before you wake up.”

  Before I wake up? How often does she do this?

  “That’s not the point—”

  “You’re only worried I know where you go at night. But I already know about the cage-casting ring.”

  A chill runs through me. She knows about the Underground? Does everyone know? Wait. “It was you. You told Riya I sneak out.”

  She looks at me full-on. “Zara and Riya were frantic trying to find you when Maharaja Moolek showed up. I had to tell them.”

  “How do you—”

  “I followed you to that window door once.”

  “You never said anything.”

  She shrugs. “It wasn’t my business until last night. Actually, I’ve been covering for you on nights when Zara wants your opinion or Riya wants to talk.”

  I don’t know what to say. “Thank you, Prisha. I—”

  Footsteps echo on the temple stairs behind us. Prisha turns first and I see curiosity, then fear, grow in her eyes. I whip around. Maharaja Moolek stands by Wodahs’s pillar, a gleaming smile melded to his lips.

  “I was hoping we could talk alone,” Moolek says to me.

  “Prisha, go back to the palace.”

  “Adraa—”

  “Prisha, go. Now.”

  With a few glances over her shoulder, Prisha steps off the temple stairs and disappears from my sight and, more important, from Maharaja Moolek’s.

  He steps into the temple and I circle naturally. Don’t let him get close. Don’t show fear.

  “You don’t have to be so worried about your little sister.”

  But I do. I know exactly whom I’m dealing with. And if he really wants to marry into our family and I refuse, Prisha is only three years younger than I am. I don’t want Moolek to entertain the idea of taking Prisha’s hand.

  “She’s innocent in all this, yes? She doesn’t know about you.”

  I still.

  He tilts his head to the side as if weighing my emotions, reading me. I try to give nothing away, but he must have caught the flash of fear in my eyes. I have secrets and now he knows I do.

  Maharaja Moolek jerks his hands forward and shouts a spell.

  What the blood? “Simaraw!” I yell, hands crossed and thrown up before me. A lush green smoke flows out of Moolek’s hands and forms into a meter wall between us. My red shield does nothing to save me. The wall of green passes through it like a ghost and washes over me. And then, nothing—no pain, no physical threat—materializes. I don’t know the spell. The green smoke filters upward and disappears.

  “Interesting,” he whispers with a smirk.

  My shield evaporates. “What did you do?” I sputter, unable to fully comprehend Maharaja Moolek casting against me in my own temple. “How dare you, in a temple before the gods—”

  “There are such secrets inside of you.”

  Was that spell…? I choke and try to recover as best I can. “As many as any teenage girl, I suppose.”

  He scoffs. “Naupure told me everything.”

  He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have.

  “Why should I believe anything you say? You are stealing my firelight.”

  “Stealing your firelight? I wouldn’t let that abomination into my country even if you paid me. Personally, I think it is a unique little invention, although my people would riot. Rajas would be at my throat at the very concept. But I’m glad you created it, my dear. It led me to you, illustrated your power.”

  I step back, unable to grasp what he is saying. “Then you really are only stealing it to ruin Belwar?”

  “Are you not listening? I’m not stealing it. You have been misinformed. Who was it that told you I was responsible? Maharaja Naupure, I’m sure. The man hates me.” Maharaja Moolek looks away and watches a monal pecking at the grass. “It’s as if he forgets Savi was my older sister. As if her death didn’t destroy me as well.”

  I always seem to forget Maharaja Naupure and Maharaja Moolek’s connection. But regardless, that can’t be where all the animosity stems from. Dozens of treaties and skirmishes over the years. Wizards killed, murdered. It can’t just be because of Jatin’s mother. This is a ploy. This is the man who is stealing my firelight. I shouldn’t trust anything he says. And yet a small voice whispers, You haven’t found any proof that firelight is being taken to Moolek.

  No, no, Maharaja Moolek is practically evil. Maharaja Naupure always said…

  Wait, Maharaja Naupure always said. He was the one who pointed me in the direction of Moolek from the beginning. He had all the answers. And he had Beckman watching me. But Maharaja Naupure has been a friend for over a decade. I can’t think…he couldn’t.

  “I see you are piecing it together,” Moolek says.

  “No, no. You are scared of my firelight. No one else would want it.”

  “But I don’t. Not now anyway. I have yet to convince my people to stop wasting animals on bloodletting or to quit destroying our limited fields.” He steps forward. “But with you helping me lead my people I foresee a future for Moolek, a prosperous one that develops new spells and embraces a long-needed change.”

  He sounds genuine. Could he be this masterful at manipulation? Never in my life have I yearned to cast a truth spell and bind him in it.

  “Why wouldn’t you send red fortes for me to teach, then?”

  He sighs. “Do you know how many hundreds of wizards and witches are fleeing to Agsa and Naupure each year? I’m losing talented members of society constantly. I couldn’t afford to send them. Besides, the four primary fortes are honored in Moolek. To make one-fourth of them leave for even a visit would have been seen as weakness. I do want to change that, though. Trust me, I want to change that most of all.”

  He wants to change the discrimination, the prejudice, and the pain those who are not Touched by the four gods face every day in his land? I want this to be true so badly. But does Maharaja Moolek know this?

  I can’t think of any comeback that would hurt as much as the doubts swarming the back of my head, running and pounding behind my eyes.

  “I’ll let you think about my proposal, of course—”

  “I don’t need any more time. I’m not marrying you.”

  “Because you love the Naupure boy?”

  I pause. “Yes.”

  “You hesitated, Adraa. You hesitated.”

  “I…”

  “You love someone else?”

  Kalyan’s face flashes to mind. “No,” I will from my mouth.

  Moolek tilts his head. “It’s probably a guard. It always seems to be a guard.” He steps even closer, hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t touch you, Adraa. Not until you were ready. But as Rani Naupure you would be a wife, not a leader. A family with as much arrogance as that wouldn’t let a woman lead. I would. As Rani Moolek, you could change the world. One-armed Touches are more common there than you know. My lands are the home of the first Touched, the originals, and it’s common for the gods to fight over wizards and witches there.” He pulls up both his sleeves.

  What is he…? Then the fabric slips away. I gasp and rock back on my heels at the sight before me. Maharaja Moolek, his arms…He’s a one-armed Touch. His right arm is covered in fine black designs, while his left is bare, a reflection of mine.

  “Htrae and Retaw, if you are interested. That’s why my lands face drought. I’m not cruel, Adraa. I’m like you.”


  “I never…no one ever told me.”

  “It isn’t public knowledge in this part of the world.”

  A thousand questions buzz in my head. The panic surges, but Kalyan’s face resurfaces through the muck in my brain. “That doesn’t change my decision.”

  Moolek sighs. “I believe you will come to regret rejecting my offer.”

  My body tenses. “Is that a threat?”

  “Just the truth.”

  Does he think an intimidation tactic like that will change my mind? Will make me want to marry him? He has to be out of his mind. He turns to go, pushing his sleeves back down and walking toward the monal, who still searches for a morning meal. “You are wasted as Maharaja Naupure’s puppet.”

  “I’m no one’s puppet!” I yell after him. And I will certainly never be his.

  He stops and half turns his head. “Are you sure about that?”

  I fall to the ground as soon as he is gone, gasping for breath. What in Wickery was any of that? The truth? Well-rehearsed and rational lies? The desperate need to talk with Kalyan shoots through me like an arrow. Only to properly talk about any of this, I have to tell him who I am, who I really am.

  But with Moolek here, proposing, threatening…I need to tell both Kalyan and Jatin the truth right now.

  Who first? Kalyan. Definitely Kalyan. He’s the one I’ve been lying to this whole time. Oh Gods, he is going to hate me. I don’t care about Jatin as much, even though I should. All I can imagine is the look in Kalyan’s eyes. Blood, it’s like I’ll be turning him into Jatin, turning him unfeeling and cold.

  Before I even realize it, tears roll down my cheeks and I’m crying.

  “Excuse me?”

  The young man looks up from cleaning his shoes and his eyes widen when he takes me in. “Hey, you’re that girl, the one who rainbowed weeks ago! I won a gold piece that day, so thanks for, you know, losing.”

  I don’t have time for this. “Great for you. I’m looking for Kalyan. Do you know where he is?”

  “Raja Jatin’s guard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah, I think he’s fixing a few swords.” He points to a hallway. “First right.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, um, anytime. Hey, tell me the next time you’ll be fighting—” His voice fades as I walk away and I don’t care enough to try to listen.

  The first door on the right is closed, but I might as well get in trouble rather than wander around this place forever. I open the door and four men twist. All noise and smiles fall. I anticipate the words before hearing them. This is going to be awful. “What are you doing here, girl?”

  I sigh. How do any of the female guards around here not strangle some of these men? “I’m looking for Kalyan.”

  “Kalyan?” the guard says the name in surprise, sounding as if he never knew those letters could be organized that way.

  “Yes.” While he struggles with his interrogation, the younger man next to him calls into the adjoining area.

  A tall wizard lifts the curtain and bursts into the room. “I’ve about got it,” he says, gesturing to a sword in his hand. I go rigid. It’s Jatin, standing there like this is nothing peculiar. Like sharpening a sword or aligning a hilt is no big deal. Escape! I scan for it.

  The younger fellow, who called Kalyan, nods to indicate my presence. “You have—”

  Jatin turns to me and with one look his face falls. “Oh Gods.”

  It’s not a happy Oh Gods. No, this Oh Gods is resigned defeat. He can’t know who I am, can he? And would he be this upset to finally meet me? I had him pegged right all along: arrogant and cold.

  “I’m looking for Kalyan.” Maybe I can salvage this and then escape.

  “This is Kalyan.” The young man gestures, so eager to help, yet missing the chill of tension overtaking the room.

  Jatin’s head falls and he shakes it. “Oh Gods.”

  “Kal, who is—” Without looking up, Jatin holds up a hand to the young man. “Just stop talking, Mulm.”

  Yes, stop. Stop everything. I need to understand. But it’s all too clear, isn’t it? My head spins. I don’t think he is what he says, Riya had said. Two men in a royal carriage, one wearing the emblem of Naupure, and the other…the other a simple guard. He carried me in his arms, he made it snow in the underground fighting ring, and he’s been my partner for weeks. The man before me is not Jatin Naupure.

  I’ve never been so caught off guard in my life. My body doesn’t like it. My lungs expand, but can’t secure air. My knees lock unkindly. It’s like a burst of burnout ramming up my spine. Swords line the wall in perfect rows. Bits of twisted metal are scattered on a worktable. I know which of the two I resemble.

  “What is wrong with her?” one of the men whispers.

  I can’t stay in here. Maharaja Naupure. Raja Jatin. Were they in this together the whole time? I can’t look at him; anywhere but him. I need to think, reorganize…everything. I stumble backward, my foot catching a wicker stool, which bangs to the floor. I flinch at the sound and then turn.

  “Wait!” Kalyan, or whatever his name is, shouts after me.

  I sprint down the hall. I don’t know I’m casting speed into my muscles until I’m halfway across the training field. Sunlight wraps around me, a thin fall wind pushes my hair from my face, and yet I’m numb. My reality, the truth, it’s all wobbling before me. First Maharaja Naupure might have betrayed me, and now this. I halt in my tracks, staring up at the palace. Gods, I’m eight years old all over again, scared of this massive structure and the boy who lives here. Where the heck am I running anyway? I need to—

  Wham! Something hits my shoulder hard and I spin and tumble into the dirt. I try to catch myself. Pain greets me instead, slicing up my arm. The bulky perpetrator falls on top of me, digging my wrist further into the dirt. A moment later, he rolls off, groaning. “I didn’t expect you to stop.”

  I rotate and find Kalyan on the ground next to me. “What the blood?” I holler as I clench my wrist and choke down the pain. Gods, it hurts. Of all my falls and hits, this is when I might have broken something? For blood’s sake.

  “Are you okay?” Kalyan asks, his breath still shaky like he hasn’t gathered it back yet.

  I scramble to get up. I can’t do this. I don’t want to talk to him. My body, even in pain, still wants escape.

  “Are you serious?” he growls as he reaches for me. “You’re going to keep running?”

  He tries to grab my arm as I lurch out of the way. He manages to capture my sari. With one tug I fall sideways and against his chest. Blood, he’s strong. Instinctively, I jerk my elbow backward. It connects with his ribs hard; harder than I intended.

  He huffs out a breath, but doesn’t let go. Instead his grip intensifies and he uses the momentum to roll back, twist, and pull me with him. A moment later, he’s on top of me, holding me down. “Just hear me out. I’m not getting fired over this ridiculousness.”

  I still. What the blood does he think he’s doing? Does he know who I am? He must to chase after me as he did. Jatin and Kalyan must have planned this from the beginning. Their switch was all a trick.

  He’s on top of me. On top of me in the middle of the Naupure training field.

  His chest rises and falls as the adrenaline dulls. I pause the spell I have ready to blow him off me, waiting to see when he realizes the precarious position he’s placed us in. But then my wrist throbs for attention. “You’re hurting me.”

  My whisper smacks some sense into him. He jolts, releases his grip, and tumbles to the side. I can tell he’s shocked. It’s like my hit to his gut spurred the primal defense system in him—sedate threat. Only now does he realize the “threat” he used his physical strength on. From the wide-eyed stare he’s giving me, I think I’ve broken him.

  I roll my wrist, flexing against the pain. Based on the la
ck of swelling, I think it’s only a sprain. “Mahlaeh,” I cast as I finally get to my feet.

  I stare up at the walls of the palace. At least the pain has stalled my brain long enough for me to think. I stumble ten steps before looking back at the guard. Gods, they look so much alike. I turn around. “Your ribs okay?”

  His eyes jerk up to me; he’s probably surprised I’ve decided to stick around. Hey, I’m surprised too. But if I don’t get my answers now, who knows when I’ll receive them. And I don’t think I could face Jatin, the real Jatin, anyway. Gods, it’s hard to wrap my head around that. The real Jatin, my fiancé, and the man who’s been lying to me for weeks.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “My wrist is fine if that’s what you are asking.”

  “Only…partly. I’m sorry about…” He blushes. Good, I’ve unsettled him. Maybe he will give me the answers I so desperately need.

  “If you want to talk, talk. Your name is Kalyan, right?”

  “Yes, My Rani.”

  “Don’t ‘My Rani’ me. A few minutes ago I thought I was engaged to you!” I stare at him full-on. Yes, they look very much alike, but this boy appears younger than Jatin, maybe even younger than I am. “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Sixteen? And he’s Raja Jatin’s guard? Would Maharaja Naupure have disclosed his plan to someone so young and inexperienced or would Jatin and his father have commanded this guard to do their bidding? Only one way to know for sure.

  “Why would you switch places with him? What do you have to gain?”

  His eyes shift. “We should probably talk somewhere else.” Good point. We are still in the middle of the training field after all.

  We trudge to the barracks because I’m sure not going into the palace. But the barracks are full of guardsmen, brimming actually. “The only place I know is empty is my room,” Kalyan says.

  “Okay, then.” I gesture.

  “We shouldn’t be in there alone. People will think—”

  “After all this, you’re that worried about my reputation?”

  He nods. “Mine too. You do realize who you are, right?”