Untethered

by KayLynn Flanders

  Chiara flipped through the pages to find a loose leaf.

  “It’s still empty,” I said, nodding to the book. I wasn’t sure how it had gotten to be empty, though. It’d had writing in it when I gave it to Jenna.

  She snapped the book closed and tucked it away again, keeping her gaze down. “I’m…working on it.”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep from tilting her chin up. Seeing her staring at the ground, like she was trying to hide from the world, didn’t feel right.

  Aleksa came back to us. “We must hurry if we want to make it into Riiga before the sun sets.”

  Into Riiga today? We were closer than I thought. Chiara unfolded the page, and the illustration of the Turian ring glared up at me. “I’ve seen this before,” I said.

  “Yes, but the clue is here, on the back.” She flipped the paper over and held it for both Aleksa and me to read.

  Three keys to find the library black:

  one in snow, the heart of attack.

  Another within the heart,

  and surrounding it, too,

  a ring of flax, of brown and blue.

  “But the real clue,” Chiara continued before I’d finished reading, “is here.” She rotated the paper. In the margin, I could barely make out the words vineyards that touch the sky. “This is what made Yesilia think the…treasure is in Riiga.”

  Aleksa was nodding. “There are vineyards like this between Vera, the capital, and Elpa, to the northeast.”

  The Medallion warmed against me, a circle of heat against the windblown cold. Truth. It wasn’t just a treasure, though. It had something to do with the Black Library. Which meant the mages, and possibly Janiis, could be very interested.

  We’d have to be careful.

  Chiara and I followed Aleksa east, trudging along with the moaning wind. When she stopped, I looked up from the animal holes I’d been dodging. Two huge pines rose in front of us, their trunks twisted against years of storms battering them.

  Beyond, at the end of a field of tiny white wildflowers, lay the edge of the Plateau. Two piles of rocks, stacked neatly into peaks, marked the path. Twin pines, twin peaks.

  Wind whipped straight through my skin here at the top of the cliff. It pressed against me, urging me to step back, to stay away, only to change directions and tug me closer to the edge.

  As I approached the cliff, the vast water of the Many Seas stretched to the horizon. Between the rock piles, craggy steps descended. I leaned forward, trying to mark the path. The earth below bloomed in front of me, white waves crashing into the land. A tiny strip of beach was all that lay at the bottom of the cliff.

  Beyond the flat land, the gray water stretched until I lost sight of its edge. A dark wall of clouds sat on the horizon, churning and blowing ever closer.

  A snap of wind tugged at me, urging me even closer to the edge. A hand grabbed my tunic and pulled me back.

  “Don’t get so close,” Chiara said, releasing me and stepping back.

  “How did you know about this, again?” I asked Aleksa. I scanned our surroundings, wary of being so exposed. No road as an excuse for traveling, no trees to hide among. Only endless rocks. And hunger. My stomach grumbled, and Chiara’s responded. She smirked at me, and I snorted. I never thought she’d be the type to joke around.

  “Only a few Riigans knew about it. When the soldiers started arresting anyone who tried to leave, word spread among the enemies of Janiis and his advisor. But,” Aleksa said slowly, “there may be another way for you to keep your treasure and find your father.”

  Chiara folded her arms, tucking her hands in her armpits to keep them warm. A strange instinct rose up—to take her hands in mine. Warm them. But she didn’t want that from me. She needed my sword and my magic to help find her father. That was it.

  “I have friends in Riiga,” Aleksa said. “Friends who work in the palace, friends who work in noble houses. I could see if anyone has heard of Janiis taking a prisoner. He is vain enough to have boasted to someone about it, if he does have your father.”

  “So you’ll help us?” Chiara asked, wind blowing tendrils of hair across her cheek. Us. Could we really do this? With Aleksa’s help, and her friends’…

  I paced away, then back again. “There are Turians loyal to Marko in Riiga. Could you find them?”

  Chiara’s mouth dropped open. “Luc! I’d forgotten—”

  “Yes,” Aleksa said. “I could find them.” She spoke with such certainty. More certainty than I expected. “If we want to make it down the cliff before that storm arrives, we need to start now.” Chiara bent to pull her cloak out of the bag she carried, but Aleksa stopped her. “No cloaks. Too easy to snag and lose your balance. If you fall, you fall for a very long time.”

  Chiara shoved her cloak back into her bag, which she strapped across her shoulder, the grim look of a soldier going into battle.

  Only half my foot could fit on a stair. But another step, slightly larger, waited farther down. An old, frayed rope had been nailed into the face of the cliff, dark brown spikes sticking out every few feet.

  “Go slow,” Aleksa said quietly, reverently. “Sit down if you need to, and make sure your footing is solid before trusting your weight to it. The ropes on the wall might hold you, they might not. Trust your feet, not your hands.”

  Chiara and I nodded, and Aleksa crouched down, stepping onto the first step. Then the second.

  Chiara looked up at me. “Me next?” she asked. “Or you?”

  I didn’t want her anywhere near this cliff. But I bit my tongue and said, “Me. If I fall, I won’t take you down with me.” And if she fell, there was a chance I could catch her.

  She stepped to the side to let me by but then put a hand to my chest to stop me. A flurry swirled from her fingertips into me. She pulled her hand away. “Don’t. Fall.”

  I smiled ruefully. Assassins had failed. Mercenaries had failed. But maybe the wind would succeed. “It might be better for Hálendi if I did,” I muttered.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, what?”

  I’d said that louder than intended. “I won’t fall.” I shrugged like I’d been joking. Like it was nothing. But her stare drilled into me.

  I stepped off carefully, calling on every lesson in balance Master Hafa had drilled into me. I made it to the third step down, then turned to help Chiara. She was right behind me, one hand holding her tattered, muddy skirt, the other pressing against the cliff.

  And so we continued, the wind tugging, the steps crumbling, the rope at the side fraying. I stepped where Aleksa stepped, and I braced myself every time I heard Chiara’s breath hitch.

  Partway down, the path shifted directions, switching back. Rusted spikes stuck out of the face, but only threads remained of the rope. And this step was the longest yet. I eased down slowly, following Aleksa’s directions, then turned to help Chiara. She slipped her ice-cold hand into mine and wedged herself next to me on the step, our backs pressed into the cliff.

  “This marks a quarter of the way,” Aleksa said from the step below as she continued on.

  Next to me, Chiara blew out a long, slow breath. A quarter down. “Give me your other hand,” I murmured. She stared at me like I had ice for brains, so I took her hand in mine, and pulled a thread of magic out, focusing on her hands to warm them.

  She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes just as mine opened again. A tiny drop of rain landed on her cheek, and below us, Aleksa cursed.

  “We must hurry. We cannot be on the cliff when the storm hits.”

  I released Chiara’s hands after only a moment’s hesitation, then crouched down, easing myself onto the lower step. Tiny pebbles came loose and bounced away, pinging down, down, down.

  “Here,” I said, reaching toward Chiara. “Let me help you down.”

  I was helping her to keep her safe. Warm
ing her hands so they stayed strong as we climbed. But a tiny part of me just wanted to be near her. I wasn’t quite sure why—she was beautiful, if quiet, but more than that, her fierce dedication in going after her father…I admired that. Would anyone traipse over the entire Plateau to find me?

  She clutched me tighter as I eased her down the long step. My other hand slipped around her waist. These steps were cut perpendicular to the face of the cliff, so I tucked her against the rock as she settled onto the step, pressed between me and the rock. I looked down at her for a long moment, our chests moving in rhythm with each other’s.

  She licked her lips and started to shrug, but stopped halfway like her tutors were still trying to break that habit. “At least if I fall, you can heal me, right?” she said, trying to lighten the moment.

  It hit me—all of it. Our precarious position. The chances of succeeding in Riiga against King Janiis. How would I manage to protect her? Protect them both? “I…my magic isn’t limitless,” I said, my voice hushed. More raindrops splattered against the stone stairs. “If I’m too tired, or if the wound is too serious, there’s nothing I can do.”

  It had happened before. Their faces were always with me—the ones I hadn’t been able to save. Chiara’s brother had almost been one. And Jenna wasn’t with me now to lend her magic if something happened.

  Chiara’s brows furrowed and her fingers tightened around my arms. Like she could see the faces of those I’d lost right along with me.

  “Ren?” Aleksa called out.

  “Coming,” I said, dragging my eyes from Chiara and taking the next step down.

  The descent was agonizing, both in length and in the physical toll it exacted on us. I hadn’t eaten enough, hadn’t recovered from healing Ilma. Yet every time I cut a finger on a rock, my magic swirled to life. It seeped into my tired calves, into my back and shoulders. I wasn’t sure how Aleksa and Chiara were faring, but neither complained.

  When we stepped off the last stair—a small jump into long, soft grass—I fell to my hands and knees next to Aleksa. Completely spent. Chiara jumped down next to me. We rolled onto our backs and stared at the churning clouds as the wind whipped around us.

  We lay there like that until Chiara chuckled.

  “How is this funny?” Aleksa asked, one arm over her eyes.

  More laughter bubbled up. “We did it,” Chiara said. “We climbed down the cliffs and snuck into Riiga!” She snorted at the end.

  Snorted. I tried to turn my laugh into a cough, but I don’t think I succeeded. “We did do it, didn’t we?”

  A handful of rocks and dust bounced down the cliff, pinging against the stone and landing in the grass. The Medallion warmed a fraction. We all looked up, laughter forgotten. Black clouds pressed against the cliffs, and wind nearly flattened the grass. Rain pelted down, sharp, cold, fast.

  “Let’s go,” Aleksa said, the lines on her face deeper than ever.

  Chiara sprang up and I followed. I couldn’t help but wish I felt a fraction of her excitement. While we were closer to finding her father, we were also in a kingdom whose fabric was fraying. Would we be caught in the chaos when everything snapped?

  Three days until the wedding. Three days to find Marko, find whatever the clue Chiara had uncovered led to, and get out.

  Enzo

  I knocked on my mother’s door like I had every day for the past twelve days. But my hands hadn’t shaken like this before. I should have told her about Chiara leaving.

  “Enter,” she called. At least she sat by a window today, with the curtains drawn aside. One of my father’s stockings lay on her lap, the needle and thread forgotten in her hand. “Enzo.” A small smile lit her face, then faded when I didn’t smile back.

  The message in my fist crumpled. But I had to tell her. It had to be from me. I swallowed. “Mother.” I swallowed again. Clasped my hands behind my back.

  What little color she had in her cheeks drained. “Is it your father?” she whispered.

  I shook my head and licked my lips, trying to find the words. “It’s…it’s Mari.”

  “Mari?” Her brows tipped down.

  I knelt by her chair, slipping my hand into hers. Not because she needed my strength. But because I needed hers. “She’s gone. Everyone has searched, but she’s not in the palace. Not on the grounds. Jenna says”—I swallowed as my insides twisted around each other in knots—“Jenna says her tether is distant. That she’s run away.”

  Mother’s eyes closed and lines appeared on her forehead. I continued before she could speak.

  “There’s more. I’ve had a message from Yesilia. She’s”—oh, how I wished I’d told Mother right when it was discovered they were missing—“she’s in Cozzare. She and Chiara decided to try to recover Father on their own, and—”

  “Mari and Chiara?” Mother whispered. “And Yesilia?”

  I nodded. “Yesilia says the state of Riiga is worse than we feared. She says Ren caught up with them, and that they’re safe. Mari hasn’t been gone long, we don’t think.” I squeezed her hand. “Jenna will go after her.”

  Mother tilted her head. “Do you want her to?”

  I pressed my lips together and studied the delicate skin of my mother’s hands. How it had changed. Aged. “No. But she will go. I know she will. I can’t force her to stay, yet the thought of her out there alone—”

  “What does your heart tell you?” My mother’s other hand covered mine.

  I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against her knee. “I know I can’t fight mages and that Jenna can take care of herself. But I don’t want her to have to do it alone. Not again. I should be the one going after Mari. After all of them. But I can’t.”

  My mother brushed her hand through my hair like she had when I was little. “You’re grown now, Enzo. It’s time to make your own decisions.” I jerked my head up to see her smiling at me. She looked more peaceful than she’d been in days. “I can handle things here. Help Jenna find Mari.”

  I launched up and threw my arms around her. “Thank you,” I whispered into her hair.

  I wouldn’t let a mage separate my family. Not again.

  Chiara

  Small alcoves pocked the cliff’s face along the shore, some open to the wind and sea, others covered with vines and bushes. Aleksa had searched until she found us a very specific one to hide in. One with a box made of stone submerged in the white sand, which was filled with circular flat bread, dried fish, and water in a glass jug for anyone trying to escape.

  Then she’d tucked Ren and me into the tiny cave and left.

  I’d tried to talk her into waiting out the storm, but she’d said the weather would keep Janiis’s guards off the streets so she could ask her questions in peace.

  “There are still a few hours before the soldiers begin patrolling,” she’d said, crouching under the low ceiling and looking out into the rain. “I will ask for news, see if your friend can help. Find out what new terror Janiis has unlocked. Vera is a half hour’s walk from here around the bend. I’ll be back before dawn.”

  Ren had nodded and settled back against the wall.

  Aleksa gaped at him. “Just like that?”

  Ren looked at me, then at Aleksa. “Just like what?”

  I shook out the dried mud from my skirt the best I could. “She’s surprised you accepted what she said.”

  Ren wrapped his coat tighter around him. “Why wouldn’t I accept it? I’ve never been here; you’re Riigan—you lived here.” He paused. “And Chiara trusts you.”

  Which meant he trusted me. With the unexpected warmth that bloomed in my chest, like dawn’s first rays or a warm blanket by the fire, came a sense of responsibility as well. Was I sure about Aleksa? She said she was helping us because we’d helped her sister. But was there more? Was I leading us into more trouble than we could handle?

  “If I’m u
nable to return, meet my friend Edgars in Vera’s main market. He can help you,” Aleksa said. And then she’d ducked out into the storm.

  I’d settled next to Ren—not too close, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from him and wishing he’d take my hands and warm them again. I swallowed back the memory of us on the cliffs. Of his rough hands gripping mine. The calluses had surprised me, though they shouldn’t have. He was a man who wielded a sword more often than he danced. And though I’d danced with many men, most of them had soft hands, smooth skin.

  And now we sat scrunched in a tiny cave in Riiga as the sun set behind the storm raging against the cliffs.

  I’d never been this close to a man I wasn’t dancing with before. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, where to look, what to say without the music guiding me.

  “Tell me more about the clue,” Ren said.

  I’d been staring at his hands. My eyes jumped up to his. There was barely enough light to see by. His usual smile was nowhere to be seen; he didn’t laugh or joke or tease. He sat, his legs tucked up, arms resting on his knees. Head resting against the freezing rock behind us.

  He looked…tired.

  I grabbed my cloak out of my bag and huddled under it, glad it was still dry. “Three keys: ‘one in snow, the heart of attack.’ That’s Hálendi’s key.” I stared at his chest. “You have it, don’t you.” It was a question, but it wasn’t.

  He tugged at the chain and pulled the Medallion out, cradling it in his hands and frowning at it. I leaned closer, asking silent permission to touch it. He held it out to me, and I ran my fingers over its surface. The runes were so intricate. It was strange to think how this piece of stone wasn’t just stone.

  “How does it work?” I asked. I looked up, and our faces were close. All the air solidified in my lungs. Ren pulled away, expression unreadable, tucking the Medallion back into his tunic.

  “It resonates with the land’s magic. Gives warnings, but not always. I’m still…I’m still figuring out how to use it.”