Cast in Firelight

by Dana Swift

  Night begins to drain the sky of its color, but the sun fights back, staining the heavy clouds with orange. It’s peaceful as people gather in the streets, each holding a candle against the dark. It takes a moment to fathom that each little spot of light is a citizen. Belwarians to my right; Naupurians to my left. Once, seeing all that life, for which I’m responsible, would have driven uneasiness into my gut. Now, all I can feel is gratitude that so many little fires light up the coming darkness.

  One day soon, my uncle will pay for the one hundred twenty-nine people who make it darker. Who, days ago, would have used the brighter and more reliable firelight instead of inferior candles.

  I’m so distracted by the thought I don’t spot Adraa until she lands next to me, the wind snapping at her skirt. We stare at each other until she pulls out my letter and the potion I made for her. “You know in any normal situation this is a weird birthday gift,” she says with a smile.

  Happiness engulfs me. I had thought with everything she might…I didn’t know what to think. Only that she didn’t want to see me. “I’ll do better next year.”

  She laughs. “The fact that you even know my schedule…” She holds up my letter. “Though I think I’ve learned something even more interesting today.”

  I step toward her, closing the distance between us. “What’s that?” I ask.

  “All these years I thought you were trying to be corny when you sent me those love letters. But you are that corny.” She looks down and reads. “Though ‘punched me to my senses’ sounds a little harsh. Can we finally acknowledge it was a slap at best?”

  I shrug. “Punched makes a better story, and I had to go with tradition or you might not have believed the letter was from me.”

  I like this. I like that we can be ourselves once more, as if nothing has changed. But then again, everything has changed. We stand on a wasteland. I take another step forward. “But the corny part probably proves I always knew I loved you.”

  She waves the paper and her smile fades. “Are you sure you should?”

  In the dawning light I see it. I had expected burns, but it’s…it’s her Touch. Fresh bloodred swirls swarm over her neck. Instead of a net of flowers and circles like most Touches, these lash out, swerving and weaving within themselves. It’s beautiful.

  I step closer and brush my fingers across the designs. “That’s intimidating. But I think my ego can handle you being more powerful than I am. Pretty sure you always have been.”

  She leans into my hand, choking on a sound that’s half laugh, half sob. “That’s not what I was referring to.”

  “What, then? Moolek’s lies? The royal ceremony?”

  She pulls back. “Yes, all of that. The people still see you as you are—good.” She gestures to the mass of candlelit mourners. “War is upon us, Jatin, and it might be better for Naupure if you weren’t seen with me. If you”—she breathes in—“marry someone else.”

  My body reacts like I’m losing her all over again. Cold sweat. Hammering heart. But now it’s accompanied by gruff irritation. She can’t mean it.

  “But I was hoping that we could still be partners.” She holds out her left forearm, as if pressing my arm against it could erase our feelings for each other.

  I contemplate her with a frown. Her eyes are wet. Her hand clenches my letter. She doesn’t mean it.

  “I’m not marrying anyone else.” I swing forward and wrap my hand around her right elbow and yank her close. She tumbles into me, body against body. I lean forward. “You think we could ever just be partners?”

  I stop, a breath away from her lips. I slacken my grip and make the choice clear. Push me away or kiss me. I can’t live in a middle ground where we work together, but I can’t touch her.

  We stare at each other. I know she gets it. We are meant to be together not because we were forced into it. We chose. I need her to choose.

  “You’re right,” she whispers.

  “I normally am.”

  “Let’s not get too carried away.” And with that she grabs my kurta and tugs me the few centimeters separating us. Her mouth connects with mine. I greet her eagerly. One arm wraps around her to pull her even closer, the other exploring the new Touch on her neck. It’s like coming home and setting off on an adventure at the same time. Warmth radiates through my body. Thank the gods she listened to me. With her in my arms I feel like I can conquer anything.

  Something lights up the sky behind my eyelids.

  Adraa jerks to attention, turning to stare at a fierce pink light shooting into the sky. Even I startle, my fears flashing to the red blaze of Mount Gandhak invading the skyline. But it takes me only a second to understand. Oh Gods, it works. It actually works!

  “Jatin, what—”

  I spin back to Adraa. “I’ve been working on something. It’s a signal. For everyone, but especially Untouched.” I’m more than excited. A smile spreads across my face as I fish for my still-unnamed invention deep within my pocket. “You inspired it,” I say as I pull out a cylinder with a small orb on top. Frost crystals glisten across the handle, but the orb shines red with Adraa’s firelight. Repurposed.

  “You bottled up your magic?” she asks, reaching for it.

  “Better that than sitting in orbs around my room.” I squeeze her hand. She hasn’t realized yet. “But it’s yours too, Adraa. It’s firelight. I’ve gotten reports of people trying to destroy any orb they could find. Moolek’s men were going around taking it too, so I sent all my guards to collect it. Kalyan, in particular, was adamant about the search.”

  She stares at the stream of light. Not pink, exactly. White and red wound together, streaking into the sky.

  “And what does it signal?” she asks.

  “That we’re needed.” I unlatch my second skyglider, and with a blast of white smoke it extends. “I could use my partner.”

  My whole life I fought to be good at magic. I worked hard for my success, and in the end, I failed. But that does not mean I will keep failing. I will not fail my country in the long term. For it is still my country, even if I will never rule over it as a rani.

  I am alive. I am still here. And one day that will be Moolek’s greatest failure.

  I look at Jatin, whose face is masked in a white glow. “Ready?” he asks.

  What a pair we are, the hero and the villain of Belwar standing at the spot that not days ago tried to kill us both. And nonetheless we choose to stand up and be together. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t have a destiny, a predesigned path mapped by the gods. But I will rise again. Jatin and I, partnering as masked white and red vigilantes—we will rise again.

  My magic gushes from my hands, and the red mask swirls into place. “Ready.”

  Author’s Note

  I can’t pinpoint the exact moment my inspiration for Cast in Firelight hit. It was a mix of old and new ideas fused together. But I can tell you the world of the story came from my husband and our conversations about culture, children, and what it means to be an interracial couple.

  I know some readers may be disappointed that this story isn’t #OwnVoices. You may look me up and see my pale skin (and one of the most English names in existence) and wonder why I tried to craft a fantasy in which none of the main characters look like me. And for me the answer is simple: because these characters will look like my children.

  I was honored to be accepted by my husband’s family. And as a result of their generosity in teaching me about their culture and incorporating them into their family, I began, as fantasy writers tend to do, imagining a world that encapsulated my experience. Thus, Cast in Firelight was born as a blend of both my worlds (with a heavy dose of imagination stirred in, of course).

  Thank you for reading Cast in Firelight. I am eternally thankful to those of you who allowed me to share the idea that anyone can be the hero of a story, especially those like Adraa,
who may doubt their worthiness, who may fail…but who never give up.

  Acknowledgments

  As any author will tell you, writing a book is hard, really hard. I like to imagine it as a witch’s brew. It calls for a pinch of talent, lots of determination, a heavy dose of luck, and most importantly, the affirmations and commitment of a team of supportive people. So without further ado, I now get to thank everyone who helped me, and try to fit it into two pages. For an overwriter like me, this may be the hardest part yet.

  First, thank you to my agent, Amy Brewer, and the Metamorphosis Literary Agency. You took a chance on me when no one else did, and I still can’t believe how far I’ve come because of you.

  Thank you to my wonderful editor, Monica Jean, for advocating for me and letting me be a part of the amazing and brilliant Delacorte Press family. You truly made this book shine.

  And to everyone on the Random House team who had a hand in making Cast in Firelight the book it is today—thank you! I couldn’t have done any of this without you: Cathy Bobak, Lili Feinberg, Drew Fulton, Erica Henegen, Alex Hightower, Audrey Ingerson, Jenn Innzeta, Nathan Kinney, Kelly McGauley, Carol Monteiro, Dani Perez, and Tamar Schwartz. Special thanks to my copyeditors, Heather Lockwood Hughes and Colleen Fellingham, who made sure all my sentences made sense.

  Casey Moses, thank you for your brilliant cover design. Virginia Norey, thank you for the beautiful map illustration. And to Charlie Bowater, who illustrated my extraordinary cover: I cried when I found out you would be bringing my characters to life and since that faithful day never doubted my book’s outer aesthetic. We can all see for ourselves why I never had to worry.

  DFW Writers’ Workshop—to all of you, thank you. I try to communicate constantly how this organization changed my writing, brought me a slew of mentors and friends, and gave me a family. Most of you actually had a hand in helping me rewrite this book and craft the query letter, and then introducing me to my agent. So let the name-dropping commence: A. Lee. Martinez and Sally Hamilton—thank you for your humor, your wisdom, and your publishing advice. Rosemary Moore, I’m so happy we are Delacorte siblings. Thank you for answering my every publishing question. Leslie Lutz, Brooke Fossey, John Bartell, Sarah Terentiev, Jenny Martin, and Taylor Koleber, thank you for not letting me slip into the dread and doubt of drafting, as well as for always being interested in my work. It means more than you know. Last but not least, Katie Bernet, every day I think about how lucky I was to sit next to you at my first DFW Writers’ Conference. You’re the world’s greatest critique partner and the truest of friends.

  Thank you to all my beta readers, especially Leah Hudson and Rachel Griffin, who encouraged me and reminded me on my worst days that this book was good enough, and subsequently I was. Also to Priya Kavina—thank you for saving me from loneliness after I moved across the country and then for rescuing every spell in this book from complete catastrophe. You are magic. Persephone Jayne and Sage Magee, thank you for creating a home in California and being the best “monster readers” a girl could ask for.

  Thank you to my fellow #Roaring20sDebuts for your advice, inspiration, and encouragement. Thank you to Half Price Books and all my fellow book-selling colleagues who read my work and cheered me on!

  Thank you to all my family for their love and support. Steve, I hope you know I couldn’t have done this without you. You have defined what it means to be a supportive parent. Mom, thank you for encouraging my reading habits, letting me stay up late with a book, and nurturing the seeds of creativity. Though you might have done it too well. I believe I have been overwatered, and I think we should blame you. Love you guys.

  And Rae and Dad, thank you for letting me hang out and travel with you as I began writing this book. I’m sorry I blew off our Downton Abbey marathons a few times, but as you can see, I had a world to build. I hope you will think it worth the sacrifice.

  To in my in-laws, Gokul and Nanda Bysani, thank you for inspiring me and for modeling the strength we see in each and every character. This world was born because of your openness and willingness to include me in Indian tradition and customs. Finding Kaethan was lucky, but you guys are my own sort of jackpot.

  I went funny in the dedication, but let me be sincere now. To my husband, Kaethan Bysani, thank you for inspiring me and supporting me through this book. No one had to deal with my emotions as you did, and you carried me through them all. I can always rely on you—especially, as you like to remind me, for your witty banter. (Of course, I will continue to argue that it’s not as witty as mine, but I digress.)

  Finally, to my readers, I hope this book entertained you above all else. Thank you for picking it up and giving it a chance, which allows me to live my dream.

  About the Author

  Dana graduated from the University of Texas at Austin and is an active member of the DFW Writers’ Workshop. She lives in Miami, Florida, with her husband. Cast in Firelight is her debut novel.

  danaswiftbooks.com

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