by Coco Ma
It was irritating how easily he had seen through her. “I have control!” she exclaimed. A lie—she still couldn’t summon more than an icicle without the omnistone. Remembering Quinlan’s ease wielding not just fire, but all the elements, left her embarrassed and feeling utterly inadequate. “I don’t need training. As long as I have the omnistone, I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Is that so?” Quinlan asked, his expression cool. “Then let’s blow off some steam, shall we?”
Before she could ask what he meant, he snapped his fingers.
There was a flurry in the air. A dozen arrows spilled into existence above Quinlan’s head, spreading around him like a fleet of ships. He snapped again, and the tips of each arrow burst into flame, ruffling Asterin’s hair with their heat, crackling and blazing as brightly as torches.
“Nock.” Quinlan playfully mimed a bow. “Draw.” The arrows pulled back on invisible strings at his gesture. “Loose.”
Asterin reacted swiftly, the omnistone already in her hand as she leapt up, summoning a cushion of air to maximize her height. Four arrows whizzed beneath her. She twisted midair, cloak flapping and catching the tip of another. It singed the edge with a menacing hiss. Growling, she swiped at the silver clasp at her neck as she landed in a crouch. She let the heavy fabric fall away. It would only slow her down.
Quinlan, unimpressed, let loose the second wave.
Clenching the stone harder, she called on her magic, ready for his next attack. She hurled a blast of wind to deflect each arrow, even managing to extinguish some.
Despite the cool morning air, beads of sweat rolled down her jaw. She thrust her arms this way and that, trying to be everywhere at once, using her anger and frustration to fuel her already fraying concentration. But no matter how many arrows she diverted, or how many she sent back at her opponent, they just kept coming.
There was no way she could last much longer in a defensive position. There were too many arrows to keep track of, too many to dodge.
She spared a glance at Quinlan, expecting to see him at least a little winded, as he often was when they practiced swordplay, but not the slightest sheen of perspiration graced his forehead. He even had the audacity to examine his fingernails like a prim lady.
Finally deciding on a course of action, she lunged forward, arms spread wide. A whirlwind of snow howled around her as she surrounded her body in armor made of ice. The snow snuffed the arrows out before they could hit her, and though the impact of the arrow tips left cracks in her armor, she battled ahead, her palms crackling with the magic she kept trapped inside, waiting for the perfect moment to release it.
Quinlan’s advantage was distance. He could reach her easily with his arrows, but she had a hard time getting anywhere near him. If she could close that distance, he would have less space to maneuver his arrows and she would have a better chance of making a hit.
With a grunt, she unleashed her magic, her blood singing as she let it wash over her in shuddering waves. Ice blasted from her fingertips, the sun glinting off the brilliant, blinding blue surface. She smiled to herself as she caught Quinlan’s eyes widen just a fraction.
Her smile turned into a grimace as she felt an arrow clip her thigh.
Her ice vanished completely when a sudden explosion of fire swallowed her whole. Her armor melted off, water sweeping her off her feet, transforming the ground into a treacherous battlefield of slippery mud.
Asterin panted, her clothes soaked through and her tailbone stinging as she heaved herself to her feet.
“Tiring out already, Princess?” Quinlan drawled.
She caught a glimpse of Luna, inching forward into her peripheral vision, but when Quinlan sent the girl a warning ripple of heat, she hopped backward and sought cover behind a bush, receiving the message loud and clear.
Caked in mud, Asterin hissed, “No,” and barreled forward once more.
This time, she created a pathway of ice, conjuring only patches at a time so that even when Quinlan melted through them as quickly as they appeared, she had already dashed left, then right, zigzagging over the mud.
Higher and higher into the air she forced herself, constructing a crystalline spiral staircase. The arrow wound drilled like a knife into her thigh, her breath coming in uneven gasps.
Asterin made her move.
She vaulted off the edge of the stairs, now over a hundred feet in the air, latching onto a tree branch and swinging like an acrobat, the bark biting into her palms and her gut clenching at the height. She swung up and pulled her torso over the branch, then swung her leg over and hoisted herself the rest of the way, tucking her feet onto the branch behind her for stability.
From her new vantage point, she had a perfect shot at Quinlan. Two spears of ice formed in her hands. He squinted up at her, lips parting in confusion and she hurled the spears with all her strength, commanding them to split and lengthen into a hailstorm of lethal blades.
Suddenly, the dozen arrows she had forgotten shrieked through the air toward her. They were everywhere, slicing through her clothes, descending like a flock of starving buzzards, burning and nipping at every inch of her. She struggled to keep her balance as she blasted ice at random to fight them off, panicking when she missed more arrows than she hit. Smoke filled her lungs and blood filled her mouth. She heard Quinlan curse in pain from her ice spears, but the arrows’ barrage never faltered.
“Yield, Asterin!”
“No!” She yelled back, just as one of the arrows whizzed by her face. She jerked away from it, but her foot slipped. Her heart dropped to her toes as she plummeted out of the treetop, the ground racing up to meet her at an alarming rate. I don’t know how to land, she realized in terror. Dirt erupted at her summons to soften her fall, but it was too little too late. She plowed through the teetering column, mud flying in every direction. The force of her landing knocked the omnistone right out of her hand.
Quinlan stepped over her. He picked the stone up and threw it into the trees. “Yield.” His torn clothing revealed three gashes, but he paid them no heed.
“No,” Asterin gasped, head spinning from the pain.
His eyes bore into hers, cold and hard. “You lost. Even with the stone.”
“Is this what you felt like?” she croaked, voice catching in her throat. “When your father took your stones away?”
“Yes.” An arrow appeared at his shoulder. She flinched as it struck an inch from her knee. “Helpless.” Another arrow fired between her fingers. “Weak.” A third skimmed her cheek. “Like a damsel in distress with her knight dead between the dragon’s teeth, knowing that she was next.”
She bit the inside of her cheek so hard that it began to bleed. “I’m not a damsel—”
“I was talking about me,” he snapped. “But then, I pushed and pushed at my boundaries until I finally broke free. Until I became the dragon.” The arrows disintegrated to ash. His expression softened. “I just want to help you, Asterin.”
Now that her mind had cleared of the anger, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion, she wished she had kicked herself instead of that tree trunk earlier. Quinlan had been kind enough to offer to train her, and all she had done was throw it back in his face. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“It’s okay.” He bent down to help her up, then raised a hand. The omnistone whizzed into his open palm. “Here.”
She took it gingerly, staring at it for a long moment, and then at the blackened trees and waterlogged ground around her. Severed trees limbs dangled from above, jagged and dripping. Mud squelched beneath her. The earth dragged at her, as if wanting to bury her for the damage she had caused. She forgot her own cuts and gashes as she struggled to her feet and brushed a hand on a nearby branch. Chunks of bark crumbled at her touch, charred to ash from Quinlan’s fire, and frost still clung like dust to the edges of the shriveled leaves.
Destruction. To her own trees, her
own soil. Shame filled her. She had done this.
Curling her fingers against the dry, cracked trunk of another tree, she closed her eyes, forehead tipped against the bark in apology. She was no better than the shadow demon, laying waste to life.
For once, she tried to ignore the stone in her other hand, and remembered Rose’s words from Aldville. Your magic is a part of you. Your powers lie within your blood, closer within reach than you think.
Slowly, slowly, the magic inside of her welled up, coiling and swirling through her skin and into the wood, winding its way through the trunk, wriggling higher and higher, until it twisted and turned into every single branch, every single leaf and bud. The blackened areas on the bark began to bleed away. The withered leaves slowly unfurled as they restored to their healthy green, and the spring blossoms swelled with life.
Keeping her hand on the tree, Asterin extended her magic even further, pushing until it connected with the next damaged tree, and the next, setting off a chain reaction. She exhaled, long and unwavering, and with her release of breath came the flourish of life. She gave the earth all the magic she had.
And the more she gave, the more the forest gave back. She inhaled, the air delicious and pure on her tongue. She spread her arms, drawing a flood of water out of the ground. Millions of glassy orbs sprang forth, sparkling and quivering. She clapped her hands above her head and the droplets evaporated into the sky.
Her exhaustion dragged her down, but her every pore tingled with magic as she bent down, scooping up a handful of rich soil and letting it trickle away through her spread fingers, cool and moist.
Quinlan stood with his hands on his hips, staring up at the sunlight filtering through the verdant leaves, dappling the moss and dirt in a dazzling array of gold.
Asterin toyed with the weight of the omnistone in her hands. Closer within reach than you think. She thought of the wyvern at the inn, that vicious yellow-eyed grin. She remembered that feeling of vulnerability, wanting to protect her friends but being powerless and utterly at its mercy. I want to become the dragon, too, she realized. “Quinlan?”
He turned to her, brows raised. “Hm?”
“I—I want to learn how to control my magic without the omnistone,” she said. “I want to train with you, if … if you’ll still have me.”
Quinlan smiled. “Of course I will. But it won’t be easy. I’ll work you harder than anyone else ever has. You’ll probably hate me by the end of it.”
I could never hate you, she thought to herself. Far from it. But she couldn’t find the courage to say it aloud. Instead, she held out the omnistone to him. “So, you’ll keep this safe for me in the meantime?”
Quinlan clasped her hand tightly. She met his eyes, warm and strong and steady. “That, I can do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“By the Immortals, what happened to you two?” Orion snorted from the sofa as Asterin stalked into the living room, throwing her muddy cloak in a pile by the hearth.
“They had a little domestic,” Luna piped in, kicking off her boots. She scanned the room for Eadric, but he must have been busy helping Harry in the kitchen, though the only sounds drifting through the open door were the occasional clang of pots and the tap running.
“About what?” Rose asked, not even bothering to glance up. She sat cross-legged on the living room rug surrounded by maps, her brow crinkled as she made markings with a quill.
“I threw a tantrum,” Asterin answered, sagging against the sofa with a relieved moan. Quinlan gave her a nudge and she scooched over to make space.
Luna grinned and flopped onto her back on the rug beside Rose. “You really did,” Luna said. Rose didn’t seem to mind her there, though she manhandled Luna’s legs to remove the maps pinned underneath to drape them over her stomach instead. That was when Luna caught sight of the rigidity of the Eradorian’s shoulders, the tension in her jaw. “Rose? Is everything all right?”
Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the high whistle of a kettle through the door. Finally, Rose threw down her quill, her eyes flicking to Quinlan, then toward the kitchen. Her cousin nodded in understanding, hurrying through the dining room and into the kitchen. He shut the door behind him, muting the kettle.
“We need to talk,” said Rose.
“About what?” asked Asterin.
“Harry.” Rose hesitated. “There’s something … off about him.”
Orion waved her off. “Yeah, but he’s Harry. He’s been living all alone for who knows how long.”
Rose shook her head. “It’s more than that. Sometimes, when he comes back in the evenings, I swear that the light … shies away from him.”
Orion rolled his eyes. “Right. That makes so much sense.”
“Orion, I’m serious.”
“Well, so am I! Come on, Rose. Don’t be like Eadric.”
Luna shot him a glare, causing the maps to shift under Rose’s hands. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Orion exhaled. “Listen, you were the one who told me I should give people a chance when it comes to trust.”
Rose lowered her head. “I know. And it’s not that I’m saying we shouldn’t trust Harry, but … I just think it’s strange that the demon has never attacked him, while Corinthe—which is pretty damn close to here—was totally wiped out.”
Orion stared at her. “So? Harry has a ton of traps set up around his house. Maybe the demon knows how to avoid them.”
“Maybe …”
“And what do you mean that it’s strange he hasn’t been attacked? Do you want him to get attacked or something?”
“Of course not,” said Rose. “But we still have to take everything into consideration—”
“No, no we don’t!” Orion exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. He sprang off the sofa, pointing an accusatory finger at Rose. “Why do you have to act like everyone has an ulterior motive? Not everyone is trying to stab you in the back! Even if Harry is keeping some sort of secret, what right do you have to call him out on it? You lied to all of us for an entire month about your identity!”
Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Being a queen and a murderer are two entirely different things.”
“I have to agree with Rose,” Asterin admitted softly, glancing up at Orion. “I’m sorry.”
The princess’s Guardian reeled back as if she had slapped him, betrayal and hurt flashing across his face. With a disgruntled snort, he stomped off to the kitchen, letting himself in and slamming the door behind him with a bang that rattled the glass panes.
Luna watched him leave. “Should one of us go after him and make sure he doesn’t say anything stupid?”
Rose sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “Quinlan is still in there, so I think it will be okay. Thanks for siding with me, by the way,” she said to Asterin.
“Don’t thank me.” Asterin propped her elbows on her knees and lowered her voice. “The truth is, a few nights ago, when our team returned late, we saw Harry running away from the cottage, though he didn’t see us. We tried to follow him, but he was too fast. Remember that deer he took down?” At Rose’s nod, Asterin went on. “I didn’t see a puncture wound from one of his crossbow bolts, but the deer did have teeth marks around its neck. Big teeth marks.”
That was news to Luna. She hadn’t noticed, and Asterin hadn’t mentioned anything at the time. “Maybe a bear killed it or something and Harry just found it?”
Asterin shook her head. “I doubt it. But then again, it’s not like Harry has bear teeth, so I didn’t push it.”
Rose sighed and made a mark with her quill. “If only he had more of an alibi.”
“That tickles,” Luna grumbled, shifting beneath the maps. She craned her neck. “What’s all this, anyway?” The three continents—Aspea, Prydell, and Eyvindr—spread across the long scroll of parchment, the nine kingdoms neatly divided within. She rolle
d onto her stomach, tracing her finger along the marks Rose had made at seemingly random locations. “Artica.” The uninhabitable, icy wasteland circling the north above Aspea and Prydell. She dragged her finger down a bold black line connecting Artica to a dot on the coast of Eyvindr. “Volteris.” The capital of Volterra. Her finger continued, crossing into the Asvindr Ocean. Luna frowned. “And … the middle of the ocean.”
“No,” Rose said. “That’s Qris. It’s a tiny island that was colonized by Oprehvar, but very few people live there since it’s basically a living volcano.” She drew a final line, connecting the island back to Artica to form a perfect triangle. “This means something,” she muttered to herself. “It has to.”
Asterin sat up suddenly. “I have an idea.”
Rose’s eyes widened. “You do?”
Asterin waved a hand. “Not about the map.” She rose from the sofa and began pacing.
Luna tilted her head. “Then about what?”
Asterin stopped. “The demon, of course. That thing Orion said earlier. About the demon knowing about the traps.” Asterin resumed her pacing, faster than before. “We should set our own. Without telling Harry.” She hesitated, mouth thinning. “Or Orion. As a precaution.”
“It’s a good idea,” Rose allowed. “And we could set them up like Harry’s net trap so that they can only be triggered by a substantial weight.” She made a face. “But even if we cast invisibility charms to mask the traps, I doubt a net could hold the demon for longer than a few minutes.”
“We don’t need it to hold.” Asterin looked at Luna. “Do you remember that time we played that prank on Eadric? With the dye bomb?”
Luna snickered. “Of course. His hands were blue for a month.”
“What do we need to make the dye again?” Asterin asked.
“Not much,” she replied, skimming through the list in her head. “Carbon black. Egg yolks. Honey. Some other stuff, depending on how long you want the dye to last.”