Threats of Sky and Sea

by Jennifer Ellision

  I push open the door of the room where I’m meant to be meeting Tutor Larsden and shiver. Whether or not Da’s cell is dark, this place is. And cold, too. Colder than I’ve been since my journey south. I sneeze.

  “Hello?” I call. “Tutor Larsden?”

  A scuffling sound comes from below me as I descend the stairs. It’s dark as pitch in here, the stairs swallowed up by cavernous blackness. I trace my hand along the wall as I feel tentatively for the step below me. The ground evens out.

  What is this? I wonder. I rub at my arms to ward off a sudden chill. I hadn’t been sure until this moment that it could even get cold in the South.

  “This is hardly an effective teaching method,” I say, determined not to sound as unnerved as I feel.

  “I disagree.”

  I whirl. The voice is a vapor, surrounding me and disappearing again. It echoes, and I can’t pinpoint its location.

  There’s someone in the room with me. “Tutor Larsden?” I ask again. “Is that you?” I’ve never met the man and can’t recognize the voice on sound alone.

  Tutor Larsden—I assume that it’s him, anyway—ignores this. “A shame you can’t see down here, isn’t it? To know for sure?”

  “Yes. It is,” I say, annoyed.

  There’s a hint of a giggle in his voice. “It’s cold, too.”

  I sneeze again, wrapping my arms around myself, longing for Da’s bear-like coat. “Quite cold, yes.”

  “Why don’t you light a torch?”

  “I haven’t a flint. Why don’t you?” I ask pointedly.

  “Light one anyway.”

  What? This man is insane. No wonder the king enjoys working with him; they’re kindred spirits.

  It slowly dawns on me what he’s suggesting. Light one anyway. The only people who can do that are Fire Elementals. “I’m not a Torcher, sir.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not.” I snap at him this time. Will people never stop assigning unwanted and, moreover, unrealistic labels to me?

  “But you could be.”

  “No, I couldn’t. Look, would you kindly light a torch?” I ask, exasperated. “It’s disconcerting to address the shadows this way.”

  A small flame flares to life ahead of me, igniting over a lantern. I shuffle toward the source of light. A shadowy figure walks toward a wall and draws a pulley. Light floods into the room as a curtain flies upward.

  Tutor Larsden stands before the window. He’s not a large man. In fact, he looks rather frail. His olive skin is wrinkled, hanging off of his bones in a way that suggests his age. It flops at his arms as he lights the candle. My impression of him clears as my eyes adjust to the sudden influx of light. His eyes are a ruddy brown, emphasized by the bloodshot quality to them.

  “His Majesty has asked me to see to your studies.”

  “Yes, I gathered that,” I say. The note said as much. I find a chair and settle into it. Exactly what these studies are to entail, I’ve yet to figure out, but I’m beginning to doubt I’ll be learning arithmetic.

  “Have you ever Torched, Lady Breena?” Larsden circles a table and leans against it, studying me.

  “This again?” I swear, it’s like speaking to a child. And as if I am explaining something to a small child, I speak distinctly, enunciating every word. “It’s as I told Lady Katerine when she retrieved us weeks ago. I’m not yet seventeen. Even if I was an Elemental, I wouldn’t know. My birthday and Reveal haven’t arrived.”

  “That is, by and large, the popular school of thought.” he agrees somewhat cryptically. “But I do wonder. How could an ability as powerful as that of an Adept hide within someone for so long without any hint of what’s to come?”

  What in Egria’s green pastures does he mean? That’s just the way things are. It’s the natural order of things. Elementals aren’t Elementals until at least their seventeenth birthday. Until then, they’re just like the rest of us. Even common folk like me know that.

  “My…shall we say, ‘flexible’ way of thinking is why His Majesty has asked me to work with you. Torchers are the most common of the Adepts in Egria. We’ll begin by assessing your affinity to the flames.”

  At this, alarm stirs in me. “And just how do you intend to do that?”

  He sighs, the points of his shoulders descending as he exhales. “I had hoped it would be easier than you’re making it. I thought that perhaps if it was colder than you liked or darker maybe. I had hoped that if I simply unnerved you enough, the ability would light around you.”

  “But it didn’t,” I finish. My voice is flat. It doesn’t betray how wary I feel, the degree to which I really am unnerved. “So what will you do now?”

  His teeth are blindingly white as his lips spread in a grin. He holds up a candle.

  “Well, that’s simple, really, Lady Breena. We have to see how you burn.”

  Nineteen

  The door bangs behind me as I flee.

  Have the lessons or face difficulties is it? I’ll handle his difficulties, then. I let rage envelop me. Fear will soon encroach if I don’t. Whether or not it was a part of our bargain, I’ll not allow the king’s mad “tutor” to burn me in the name of science. They’re playing a sickening game. I wonder if I’m the first they’ve played it with, and the thought makes me ill.

  No one knows if the Elemental gift is passed from person to person or at random. The heredity is sometimes thinly linked through families, but not always. I feel queasy thinking of other “lessons” that may have taken place in that cellar or elsewhere in the realm with people who weren’t able to flee as quickly as I had at the intimation of torture.

  My thoughts pause in their restless circling as I wonder why they’d want to begin with Torching for me anyway. In the case that the ability is inherited, testing me for an affinity to fire would be useless, wouldn’t it? Why should I be able to Torch if Da’s an Air Elemental? Shouldn’t their hypothesis be that I’m a Rider?

  Maybe my ma had been a Torcher? Da never said. I add it to the list of questions I’ll ask Da if and when the meeting that the king said he’d arrange ever happens.

  I’m still storming through the castle under a cloud of anger, climbing staircases and turning corners at random, when I hear footsteps heading my way. I’m not in the mood to curtsy and pretend at politeness if I happen upon someone. My steps slow as I realize the hallway surrounding me is unrecognizable. I barely resist the urge to scream. Without my ladies to guide me, I’ve gotten myself well and truly lost.

  I slump against the wall. What a disjointed place this palace is. I’d fled stone corridors, dark with dangerous intent, but now find myself standing on marble floors, bright and polished. This must be a newer addition to the castle. Do the royals just add rooms on when they get bored?

  “Enough!”

  I straighten, startled by the nearby shout and subsequent crash that follows. Was that the king? Have I really wandered so far from my rooms as to find the advisory hall?

  “I tire of the excuses, Adept Tregle,” the monarch of Egria says menacingly.

  Tregle? Creeping closer to the open doorway where the voice came from, I flatten myself to the wall. Pacing footsteps echo in the room I hover outside. Tregle’s been gone since the day I arrived. I haven’t seen even a hint of him or Baunnid since Tregle left us in the dungeons with that cryptic statement.

  They’re going to kill us anyway.

  I doubt that very much.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m merely stating the facts as my commanding officer has given them to me to deliver unto you. We are still unable to take Nereidium by force.”

  There’s a clatter, the distinctive sound of a metal bowl as it crashes to the ground and spins around and around. I wince. A result of the king’s temper, no doubt. Tregle’s lucky it wasn’t thrown at his head.

  The name “Nereidium” plucks a chord in my memory. That’s Aleta’s kingdom, isn’t it? What does the king want with it? Why would he need to take it by force when he has a pr
esumable marriage contract with Aleta and Caden’s pending nuptials? Why would he waste the military resources?

  “As it was last time, it’s their navy, Your Majesty. It’s too formidable. Their Throwers number too many, and as they’re an island nation, we cannot take such forces on without control over the waters. Egria’s scouting ship was destroyed. Again.”

  A chair’s legs squeal along the floor, followed by a wuft of air as someone sits down.

  “If we were able to arrive at their shores, this wouldn’t be the issue that it is. My Torchers and Riders would trounce them.”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty,” Tregle says tiredly. I take a guess that he’s heard these disgruntled rantings before.

  “If I had a damned Thrower—” The king stops. There’s only silence. And then: “What of the girl?”

  “Her maids report that she’s done as you ask. They’ve kept her busy with etiquette, and she’s with Larsden now.”

  “Do we trust the maids? Or is it your belief that they’d benefit from a little…incentive?” The king’s voice trails off suggestively.

  Tregle takes a beat to answer. “As far as we can tell, they’re Egrian loyals.”

  My pulse pounds in my throat as they pause. Why all of this talk about my maids?

  “Dismissed, Adept Tregle.”

  They’re finished talking, and I press myself beside a tapestry of the first Elementals, heart pounding. Should I run before the king realizes he’s been overheard? This scene is too familiar. I’ve stumbled upon hearing something I shouldn’t have again. If the king sees me… I relax when Tregle leaves the room at a soft clip, alone.

  His tall figure retreats down the hallway. I bite my lip indecisively and then, cursing my curiosity, follow him past the open door. I chance a glance inside and am thankful to see that the king’s back is to me.

  He studies something on the table. I’m dying to get a look at whatever it is, but all I can see is the curled corner of a paper around his side. I decide not to press my luck and slip by, praying that the king is too preoccupied with his papers to notice, to hurry after Tregle.

  “Tregle!” I hiss, feeling foolish. I don’t dare raise my voice any louder. The marble in the hall echoes, and the last thing I want is for the king to hear me milling about, where he’ll surely reach the conclusion that I’ve been eavesdropping.

  The long black robe that marks Tregle as an Adept catches on a windowsill as he turns.

  “Lady Breena,” he says, voice surprised. “Good day.”

  “I am begging you,” I say, skipping all greetings. “Please call me Bree. I’m going mad in here with all of the ‘ladies’ and ‘lords’ and ‘pleases’ and ‘how do you dos.’”

  His mouth twitches. “Lady Bree, then. I can’t overstep any more than that. If someone overhears me, I’ll be in a heap of trouble”

  “It’ll do.” I’ll take what I can get. I fall into step beside him, hoping he’ll lead me out of this maze. The last time we walked together, I’d been bound up and trying to keep pace with him.

  We’re quiet. The only sounds are our footsteps as I struggle over how to bring up the conversation that I heard. I don’t know how to bridge the silence or where he stands in the king’s good graces. Tregle’s loyal to the king—at least, moreso than I am. He gave Tregle a better life than he’d had when they found him. I’m not sure he’ll be forthcoming with me about the details of the conversation.

  When it comes right down to it, I barely know him. We only travelled together for a few weeks. I wonder: are things better for him here? Now that he has some measure of control over his abilities and all. Does he have friends? Do they go into the city and lark about from time to time?

  I envy my imagination’s version of Tregle, even without knowing the answer. I miss joking around with people without having to worry about saying the wrong thing.

  “Haven’t seen you about,” I say finally.

  “Yes. His Majesty sent Baunnid and I to confer with the navy. They were off on an exploratory mission toward Nereidium.”

  “Then Baunnid’s back, too?”

  “No,” he says. “He went along for the ride.” He’s struggling to keep a serious face but obviously happy about being rid of him. The king said that his navy can’t take on Nereidium’s, I remember. And I wonder if Baunnid will be coming back.

  I decide I don’t care. He didn’t show even a hint of remorse for everything he put me and Da through, and he probably tortured Tregle more than what I saw. I’d just as soon put him out of my mind.

  “I’m glad to see you looking well,” Tregle says.

  “You seemed so certain I would be.” Again, I remember the way he’d left me and Da, how he’d said that he didn’t think the king would kill us.

  He shrugs. “I didn’t think the king would slay you or your father without trying to get information from him first. Besides, I heard the guards whispering about His Highness being retrieved. He tries to intervene where he can with his father, so I thought...”

  Caden works against his father then? And so overtly that even the Adepts are aware of it?

  Tregle rubs at the knuckle of his pointer finger absentmindedly.

  “Well, you were right.” I spread my arms sarcastically and drop them at my sides. “Here I am, as much good as it does me.”

  “Don’t be so glum, Lady Bree. Better alive than dead. Better trapped in the castle than in a cell.”

  “Better even than being experimented on?”

  “Experimented on?” Tregle missteps as he swivels to look at me. His mouth is open, and his eyebrows shoot up into his forehead.

  “His Majesty has commanded me to ‘work’ with Tutor Larsden,” I say bitterly. “He seems certain that I should be able to manipulate an Element, never mind that I’m not even old enough. They have theories on how to test it.”

  Tregle hesitates, his face frozen in an expression like he has something to say, but he’s thought the better of it.

  “Say it,” I say, feeling exhausted. I’m emotionally wrung out today, and it’s not even time for dinner. “I can tell you want to. Go on then. Put it out there.”

  He hesitates. “You won’t thank me for it.”

  “Say it anyway. Really.”

  Tregle looks away. “Let him.”

  “Let him—let him?” My voice climbs the octaves into something rather like a shriek. Whatever work Tregle’s been doing involving Nereidium, it’s clearly addled his brain.

  He winces, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “It sounds awful, I know. But if you want to do yourself the smallest of favors, you’ll take my advice. They’re going to test you one way or another. If you appear compliant, they’re much more likely to relax the watch on you.”

  My breath catches. “What watch on me?”

  Tregle winces again. “I shouldn’t have said—”

  “What watch on me, Tregle?”

  “Your lady’s maids,” he says in rush before he thinks the better of it. “They have to report to the king’s advisors when you exhibit unusual behaviors throughout the day. Who you see, who you talk to, what you do… Actually, I’m surprised they’re not with you now.”

  There it is. I’m a void of emotion. I can’t even bring myself to feel surprised, but I’d dared to hope the reports the king asked Tregle about were the vague sort. I should have known. I remember how they inched closer when Caden and I spoke during our ride in the pasture. The few people that I’ve begun to think of as my allies in this are nothing more than the king’s spies.

  And Tregle knew about it. “If they report to the king’s advisors, what does that make you?”

  “I work for Lady Katerine. She’s his right hand.” Quietly, he adds, “The maids may be in trouble for letting you wander about.”

  “They were meant to retrieve me after my ‘lessons,’” I say dully. My eyes are curiously dry, like their moisture’s been drained away along with any hopes I had of forming real friendships here. “I left early.”

/>   The hallways change again. The marble disappears as it gives way to a more populated wing of the palace, where girls in dresses that consume doorways are busy leaving sewing circles and dance lessons. The doors are framed in mahogany wood, and I blink, stopping short as Caden exits through one of them.

  “Ah, Adept Tregle!” he says with every appearance of delight when he spots us. “And the Lady Breena.” He executes a sweeping bow as people maneuver around us.

  I’m mute. I’ve barely spoken to him lately, and I’m not sure I ought to now after everything I’ve learned today. I think of my ladies. I’d been so sure we were becoming friends—or something like it anyway. If they have ulterior motives, isn’t it likely that the prince of the realm does? Whether he opposes his father or not.

  Stuck on the idea, I fumble a curtsy at him while Tregle gives a perfunctory bow beside me. I try for a smile, but it wavers and falls instantly. Caden takes in our expressions, the pair of us wearing deep frowns, and his grin fades, gray eyes flicking between the two of us. “What’s happened?”

  “Not here,” Tregle says. He jerks his head down a separate corridor, and Caden shakes his head briefly, his brown hair swinging with the movement.

  “Too easy for someone to overhear us. Perhaps we should…”

  “Yes,” Tregle says immediately, catching his drift. “I think that that would be best.”

  They’re so familiar with each other. I look back and forth between the two of them. A prince and a peasant Elemental. What ties can they possibly have? And both of them are too preoccupied with whatever it is that they’re saying without really saying anything to bother informing me what it is.

  “Yes,” I mock, frustrated when I find my voice. “Of course that would be best. Why didn’t I think of that?” I lift my skirts—the better to stomp away—but Caden catches the crook of my arm.

  A rush floods through me, making me lose my breath. He drops my elbow like he’s touched a hot pot, just as I jerk it from his hold. Caden shifts his weight to his other foot, clears his throat, and steps away. Tregle’s knuckle goes to his lips thoughtfully as he considers the prince.