Cast in Firelight

by Dana Swift

  This is getting irritating. “Yes, I do, so don’t make me give the ‘one day I’ll be in command’ speech.”

  Reluctantly, he leads me down the hall, ducking his head each time we pass a fellow guard. Barely anyone even glances our way, though. He seriously overestimates how often people pay attention. Hiding in plain sight is strategic for a reason.

  He leads me into the plainest room in history. A tidy bed and a clean desk sit in a boxlike room, which can barely be described as a living space. It’s a closet. Vibrant blue curtains with the Naupure crest blow toward us as we enter. Okay, it’s a closet with a window.

  It’s so different from my memory of Jatin’s room at age eight. “You’re very clean.”

  “I don’t need much.”

  I spot Kalyan rubbing his ribs again as he sits on the floor. “You sure you don’t want me to fix that?” I ask.

  He lifts his hand from his ribs. “It’s just a bruise.” He stares at me. “I always thought Jatin was exaggerating when he said you punched him in the face the first time you met.”

  “He was exaggerating. It was a slap at best.”

  “Uh-huh, sure.”

  “Was it Maharaja Naupure who devised the plan for you two to switch places?”

  He shrugs. “It’s in my job description. When we travel I dress as a raja of Naupure to protect Jatin. But this situation with you…well, this situation is messed up, if you ask me.”

  I get it. He impersonates Jatin. If Belwarians idolized their heirs, Father probably would have wanted the same for me, too, although it would be hard to match my dark skin tone because of the Pire Island in me. “So Naupure doesn’t know about any of this?”

  “No, nothing,” Kalyan says.

  That doesn’t mean Maharaja Naupure didn’t tell Moolek about the Red Woman or try to get me to investigate Moolek this whole time instead of…him.

  “So in the carriage, you were—” I gesture to his clothes.

  “I was doing my job, protecting Jatin. We both thought you were some commoner, like a four, at most, burning out in an act of heroism.”

  “A four? Pshh, I should be offended. That was intense orange magic. So Jatin didn’t know then?”

  “No, neither of us even guessed.”

  “So when did he find out?”

  “I believe it was the night you guys fought that ship full of Vencrin. I tried to tell him this was ridiculous. Believe me in that.”

  Jatin had known my identity for weeks. For weeks. I try to make sense of Jatin as I know him now compared with back then and in his letters. Blood, he’s changed. And yet, in some ways he hasn’t changed at all. I should have figured his arrogant smile and masterful casting could belong only to a raja. But he was so…kind. The complete opposite of unfeeling. The Jatin I knew wouldn’t have partnered with me, wouldn’t have followed my lead in fights, and definitely wouldn’t have brewed a potion for my cramps unless there was a way to tease or humiliate me in the end. He was always about being better than me, right? He could never consider us equal. And yet, he did, which means I had my fiancé all wrong.

  Even this guard, Kalyan, doesn’t treat me as an equal. And isn’t that what I found most attractive in the man I’ve fallen for? He saw me as nothing other than an equal, his partner.

  “But why didn’t Jatin tell me?”

  “The truth?”

  “No, I want you to lie to me again, for a few months at least.”

  “Sorry, I meant whether you’re sure you want to hear this from me.”

  That makes me pause. Was it a game, then, a trick? “I need to hear it.”

  “Well, Jatin. Well, you know he…” Kalyan stares at me and frowns. “Jatin knew you hated him. You two have been competing for years. I’ve seen some of the letters.” He shrugs. “So as unbelievable as it sounds, he was trying to change that. Trying to get you to be his…friend.”

  “He was trying to be my friend?” Was that all?

  I walk over to the desk chair and collapse into it. Now I’m mad because that explanation kind of made sense. If I had met the real Jatin at the beginning I might have hated him, just out of spite.

  Red tendrils of magic waft from my arms, careening in the air with no directive as my emotions buzz. I go back to the simplest of absolutes to try to re-sort everything I know. This tall man is a guard; the man I love, who wants me only as a friend, is Jatin. I’ve felt awful the past few weeks. Jatin made me think I was cheating every time I fell for him a little more. But he wanted me only as a friend, a partner. And I was the one this whole time saying partners, nothing more. Gods, I’m so ignorant.

  “Can I ask you something I’ve been wondering?” Kalyan asks, breaking my raging thoughts.

  “What?”

  “Why all the secrecy on your part? Why didn’t you tell us in the carriage that you were Adraa?”

  On instinct I want to say it isn’t any of his business, but the words stall in my throat. I sigh, trying to process all my horrible decisions since then. There have been so many. “In the carriage I was embarrassed. Later, well, later I wanted to maintain our partnership. I thought he was only a guard. And once he knew the truth, I thought he would look at me like—” I try to find a proper description. “Kind of how you’ve looked at me since I stepped into the barracks.”

  Kalyan turns away awkwardly. That’s exactly what I meant. Gods, I am more than a damaged arm, a pretty face, or the heir to the throne. I’m even more than firelight’s inventor, the Red Woman, or Jaya Smoke.

  “I never deeply hated Jatin, you know. I just didn’t want to marry him. He was so…irritating.”

  “Still is,” Kalyan says, a small smile playing on his lips.

  “Where is he?” He and I need to talk. About Moolek. About everything.

  “Probably in his father’s study.”

  His father’s study. Those words smack into me. I start for the door.

  “Adraa?”

  I turn around, but itch to run.

  “He’s the best person I know. I would do anything for him, even help him in his weird mission to be normal.” Kalyan lifts one pant leg to reveal grayish-white magic attached to his knee and slowly churning in the shape of a calf. “I owe him my life.”

  For a moment, all I comprehend is how intricate and precise the purple magic is. Then something clicks in my brain. I recall the letter, Jatin talking endlessly of how he helped search for people after a monsoon, how he found one boy trapped in a house, how they had to amputate his leg. I had forgotten the boy’s name over the years because I had been so focused on how much Jatin had proved himself in Agsa, how much he was beating me back then.

  “The Southern Bay Monsoon,” I whisper.

  Kalyan nods. “You have a right to be mad. Just…just hear him out, okay?”

  I step back into the room. Here I am, wanting to be seen as more than a rani, and I have yet to apologize for seeing Jatin as nothing more than an unfeeling man. Of course I’d be wrong about this too. “I’ve misjudged you and I’m sorry.”

  He laughs lightly. “Because you thought I was Jatin, right?”

  “Partly. Well, mostly.”

  “At least in the end I can say I was right.”

  * * *

  Like most times I have entered the palace, I encounter Hughes giving me a discouraging look.

  “I’m going to talk to my fiancé. Don’t announce me.”

  Hughes’s eyes tighten, but he doesn’t move as I vault up the staircase and rush through the hall.

  I pull open the door without thinking. For what feels like the twentieth time today I’m startled. Inside, Maharaja Naupure and Jatin sit side by side engrossed in paperwork. Both stand immediately at my entrance, chairs screeching, papers diving to the floor. I wasn’t expecting to find Maharaja Naupure here. But of course, of course, he is home if Maharaja Mo
olek is gracing us with his horrid presence at Belwar Palace.

  Pure surprise splashes across Jatin’s face, while a blazing grin pulls at Maharaja Naupure’s lips. Normally I would return his smile. But I don’t know whether I can trust him anymore. All my doubts come crashing to the forefront. Could he be stealing my firelight? A voice whispers yes.

  “Not even knocking anymore,” Maharaja Naupure says, with a knowing look at Jatin. He thinks I’m that familiar with his son. Ha, if he only knew.

  “Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting a father-son moment.”

  Jatin inhales, sharp enough for me to hear it.

  “Kalyan told me where I might find you,” I add.

  Jatin steps forward, but I halt him with my hand.

  Maharaja Naupure looks between us. “Are you two still fighting after all these years?”

  “You could say that.”

  At first, I was surprised to hear the door open. There hadn’t been a knock and none of the servants would dare enter unannounced. Then Adraa steps in and my heart smiles and collapses within a two-second span. How did this happen? How did everything go so wrong so fast?

  I was anticipating telling her any day now, but in all the scenarios I ran through my head, I never imagined her this mad. Not when I explained myself, not when we had shared so much in the past weeks.

  I have to say something. After all these weeks of lying I have to say something.

  Like always, my father beats me to it. “Are you two still fighting after all these years?”

  “You could say that,” Adraa answers. “And I could tell you about it. Or you could tell me why I have found zero proof Maharaja Moolek has been stealing my firelight.”

  Is she serious? We’re going to talk about Project Smoke right now instead of the fact that she knows who I am?

  I draw toward her. “Adraa, we need to talk.”

  Her eyes cut into me. “Not now.”

  My father interrupts our standoff. “Jatin told me you two haven’t found proof yet. There’s the possibility it isn’t Moolek getting the Vencrin to steal firelight. Maybe it’s only the Vencrin.”

  “Only the Vencrin?” Adraa says, her voice hard. What’s going on with her? She’s using her interrogation voice.

  “Adraa, what’s wrong?” my father asks. I guess he can sense it too.

  “I had a conversation with Maharaja Moolek this morning.”

  Blood. Adraa had to deal with Maharaja Moolek and discover I’ve been lying in the same day. Now I think I understand her anger. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She glances between my father and me. “No, I’m not okay. Maharaja Moolek, he…he made a strong argument that he wasn’t responsible for stealing my firelight.”

  “He could be lying,” I protest.

  Her eyes bore into mine. “Yeah, you never really know when someone is lying.”

  My throat goes dry.

  Adraa steps closer to my father. “You…you created Project Smoke with me. You suspected Moolek from the beginning. You helped me secure Basu as a distributor. You planted Beckman in the Underground. Were you manipulating me the whole time?”

  “Beckman? Adraa, of course I wasn’t.”

  “Then where is my firelight going?” she cries.

  I can’t stand seeing her this hurt. I reach for her and place a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find it. We’ll figure it out.”

  She shrugs my hand off. “Don’t touch me.”

  I flinch. “Adraa, please. Let me explain.”

  “Maharaja Moolek also proposed. He wants me to help make Moolek a better place,” Adraa says in a rush.

  I don’t know if I’ve heard her right. Moolek…proposed. My uncle wants to marry the girl I’m insanely in love with. My stomach drops. I feel like I’m being stabbed. What in the blood is happening?

  “What?” my father asks. “He did what?”

  “He proposed to me. You know, marriage. Even consulted my parents about it.”

  “He’s almost twice your age.”

  I unfreeze, stepping close to her. I need to fix this, immediately. “We need to talk.”

  “This is more important.” Adraa swivels back to my father. “I want to know why you would have told Moolek. Why would you tell him anything about Project Smoke when he was our main suspect?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything.”

  I believe my father. Nothing in his letters even hinted he would have brought up Project Smoke.

  Adraa’s anger falls. “Then…Oh Gods, is it my fault? He cast this spell over me and…”

  My father’s eyes flash. “What kind of spell? Did it hurt you?”

  “It…I don’t know what the spell was. I thought it might have been to read my mind or reveal my secrets, but—” She looks between the two of us. “Oh my Gods. There’s this small voice inside my head telling me I can’t trust you. That Moolek is right.”

  “It will fade soon,” my father reassures her.

  I turn to him. “What was it? What did he do to her?”

  “It’s a complex black magic spell. It makes one susceptible to manipulation. He used to use it against your mother all the time when they were younger. In this instance, Adraa could be convinced to believe Moolek isn’t the one behind the firelight shortage and start to suspect me.” He pauses. “And persuade you to accept his marriage proposal as well.”

  Adraa clutches her head. “Gods, I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  More easily convinced to accept his— “Did you? Adraa, did you agree to marry him?”

  “I…I refused. He was upset about that, but I was able to say no.”

  My whole body relaxes. I knew it. Thank the gods. She’s stronger than him.

  “Well, the spell doesn’t control people,” my father clarifies. “Understanding and knowing it was placed on you will make it easier.”

  Adraa finally turns to me. “We should talk.”

  A mix of relief and dread churn my stomach. I think the next five minutes will define my life and my happiness.

  * * *

  I lead Adraa to my room. As soon as the door closes, I hold out my hands in surrender. “Listen—”

  She interrupts before I can say more. “I just want to know one thing. Were you trying to be my friend this whole time? Or was all this another way for you to mess with me?”

  “Yes. I mean no, of course not.” The words twist on my tongue. For saying she only wanted to know one thing it sure sounded like two questions with very different answers. Blood, this wasn’t how my confession was supposed to go. “I was never messing with you.”

  The questions I asked after my discovery flit back into my memory. Every time we teased one another. So tell me, what do you think of Jatin Naupure? Does that count?

  She doesn’t believe me. I can see it in her face. Maybe those questions do count. I’m a complete idiot. I open my mouth to say so.

  “You should be happy knowing you’ve won,” she scoffs, and then heads for the door.

  I panic, my body racing with energy. Gods, she’s so wrong. If she isn’t in my life I’m losing, losing everything. She can’t run away without me at least explaining my motives and why I lied.

  “Bhitti Himadloc!” I yell in panic. As the spell unleashes from my hands, I already know it’s a mistake. White condenses to ice in front of Adraa and crackles as it springs up and envelops my door. It’s wrong to trap her like this, but a small part of me yelps at the victory. I got her to stop; maybe she’ll listen now.

  “Are you serious?” she asks, wheeling around.

  “Please, talk to me.”

  “I won’t while I’m imprisoned. Gharmaerif!” she yells. A slash of red light dances up my ice wall. For a moment I’m startled into amusement. Is she really going to try to melt it?

  “Why are
you such a bloody jerk?” she hollers.

  “I don’t think I should answer that.”

  She responds with another fire spell. Melting ice drips to the floor.

  “You’re only saying that after knowing who I am, aren’t you?” Her Don’t touch me still rings in my ears. After all this time I haven’t changed her perception of me. I’m still the senseless nine-year-old who was too competitive and full of himself. I was a fool to think Adraa Belwar could ever love me. “This, this is why I lied. I wanted you to get to know the real me, as I wanted to get to know the real you. At least before one of us punched the other in the face.”

  She stills, dropping her gaze, stopping her casting. She doesn’t turn away.

  “Please, remember you lied too. When we met you were Jaya Smoke, not Adraa Belwar.”

  That gets her attention. “I’m both,” she says, her eyes finding mine. “And if you can’t see that—”

  “Yes, you are both and yet conveniently you never told me you were royalty. You led me to believe you were just another Belwar citizen, Adraa’s servant, in fact.”

  “And you led me to believe you were a guard, Jatin’s guard.”

  We both pause, staring at each other.

  “I guess we’re equal, then,” I relent.

  The hard lines of her anger dissolve somewhat. “What did you say?”

  “That we are equal. We both—”

  She peers past me to the shelves of tattered books and my orbs of magic, their light bouncing off the new reflective ice door. “You truly believe that? You, who on day one claimed I was not even a witch?”

  Of course, she would bring that up. It all comes back to that. “Adraa, I was nine. I regret that more than you can possibly know. You think I don’t know how powerful you are?”

  I can’t read her expression. Confusion maybe? “Gharmaerif!” she yells, and red brightens the entire room.

  I reach out and stop her arm before she bathes my room in water. “Adraa, stop. You need to break the ice with white magic. You can’t just heat it up. Or, well, I guess you can. But it’s going to take you all day.”