by Kaylin Lee
“Zel.” My voice sounded pathetic and small in the massive shipping bay. “I brought help. Prince Estevan’s men are here. I mean, they’ll be here soon.”
I’d meant to sound confident and assured of victory, but instead, the words came out shaky and high.
Zel stood beside the blond man and stared blankly ahead, her lifeless visage a stark contrast to the warm, kind woman I’d known since I was a child. I was too late. She was already under his control. Beyond her, the twins’ stricken faces streamed with tears.
One of the men in the red masks grabbed my arm, his grip painfully tight.
Sick with trepidation, I dragged my gaze to the unmasked man beside Zel, and his laugh chilled me. I hated to meet his smiling gray eyes. Dread pressed upon me until I wasn’t sure I could breathe. I knew him. That face. Those features. I’d seen him before. Where?
The man I assumed to be the Blight’s leader laughed again. “Cinderella, Cinderella. Here you are. After all our little shared moments, I’d started to miss you.”
Cold sweat dripped down my forehead and back. The man from my nightmares. But not just my nightmares—the attack. The blood-red face in the door of my classroom. The man who’d waited until I’d seen him before setting off the bomb. He’d wanted me to know him.
A high-pitched noise came from the back of my throat, and the shipping bay swam around me. The daily imaginings and attacks had appeared and disappeared until I’d thought I was losing my mind. I’d been haunted by the feeling that someone was there in the kitchen with me. It was real.
He was real. He was here, unmasked, not five steps away from me. He held a single glass slipper in one hand. And he was smiling. “Call me Flavian. It’s so nice to meet formally, isn’t it? I chose you the day you won the scholarship, and I bided my time. Who knew I had selected such a prize? You led me to your stepmother. I couldn’t have asked for more.”
Zel didn’t even blink.
Flavian waved his hand, and a red ribbon materialized out of thin air in front of my face. It darted through the air and nipped sharply at my face and arms, cutting my skin like a small, sharp knife.
I didn’t recognize the sound of my own sobs.
Then he waved his hand again, and the ribbon dissolved into tiny pieces before my eyes, rematerializing in his hand. “A mover can’t create things out of thin air, darling Cinderella. But we can get awfully close.” He moved toward me, and Zel followed on his heels, like a pet. “I’m glad you’re here. It didn’t seem right to do this without you. You were my muse, after all, Cinderella.” He stepped closer. “What, no response? Tell me I haven’t waited all these years to speak with you, and you’re speechless.”
My guard gave me a shake. “Speak, girl.”
I’d know that gravelly voice anywhere. Silas. The tracker who had destroyed our lives held me with an iron grip. My skin crawled, and I shivered uncontrollably. I forced my mouth open. “I-I don’t …” My voice was tinny. I sounded like someone else. Someone who knew she was about to die. I swallowed. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Flavian’s expression changed from mockingly warm to ice cold in an instant. “You don’t know? How sweet. How innocent.” He loomed over me, his tall body terrifyingly close to mine. “You greedy little commoner.” He grabbed my already-bruised throat and squeezed. “How dare you? I was livid when I read that disgusting article in the Herald. A stinking, grasping kitchen girl, forcing your way into the Royal Academy when you had no right to touch their books, much less attend their classes. To think that a commoner like you might one day work in government and hold power over mages—your superiors, in every possible way?
“Unthinkable. Unacceptable. When I stopped you, you dared to enslave a mage in your own kitchen. A mage! In the kitchen! Serving commoners, as though he were beneath them.”
I struggled in his grip, but Silas held me fast. There was no way to move back. I heard muffled screams from Weslan’s direction, a loud crack, and then silence. “I don’t think he’s beneath them,” I babbled. “I don’t. I just wanted to help him. I wanted to help everyone. I swear it! I want to make it so that mages don’t have to work only for the government or the Procus families, but can be free to choose what they want to do. I want mages to be free! Please, you have to believe—”
He cut off my words along with my breath. “You want mages to be free, hmm? Well, so do I, Cinderella. You filthy, pathetic Fenra have enslaved us long enough. It’s your turn.” He released my throat, and I collapsed against the guard holding me, gasping for breath.
“Imagine my delight when my tracker discovered that the very girl who had vexed me so many years was also harboring the woman who would be the key to our rebellion. The dress, my dear. The faintest of traces. You hid them well, but Silas here’s one of the best. He found traces of a woman with the Touch and two young female mages—one absorbent, one expellant. Hiding, against all odds, in plain sight, smack in the middle of the Merchant Quarter.”
Flavian turned to Zel, who stood docile and silent by his side. He ran one hand slowly down her back, making my skin crawl at the sight, before turning back to me, his smile growing wider. “Delight doesn’t even begin to capture the emotion I felt at his news. And then he found the same traces on a glass slipper left by the foolish girl at Prince Estevan’s selection ball, and the city’s greatest weapon practically fell into my lap. We’re going to kill every Fenra who’s ever held power over a mage in this city, beginning with the crown prince and his Procus lackeys, and we won’t stop until you Fenra are firmly under Kireth boots once more.” He gave me a shallow bow, and I fought to retain control over the anxious, gasping breaths that threatened to overwhelm me. “So thank you, Cinderella, with all my heart.”
Flavian put one hand on his chin and frowned, a look of mock concern coming over his face. “Does it hurt, knowing you’ve singlehandedly brought our rebellion success? Knowing all the suffering we’re about to inflict on this forsaken city could have been stopped if you’d kept to your place in the order of things?” Then he dropped his hand and smiled again. “I thought it might. That’s what makes this whole moment so satisfying. You’ve truly been a wonderful muse.”
He stepped away and then returned to me, as though he’d just remembered something else. “Did you know, Cinderella, that some of the most beautiful things can come from death? I’ve learned that. There was a time, when you were a small, grimy child, that the plague set me free. The mage who held my True Name died, and for two glorious days, the idiots who ran this city forgot to replace him. I tasted freedom, thanks to his death, you see. And once you give an enslaved man the taste of freedom, you can never truly enslave him again.” His smile remained, but his face was like dark ice, cold and hard.
“All it took was planting a few seeds—a well-timed word, here and there, to my new master. That there might be certain exceptions to the ‘do no harm’ command. That I should be able to harm no one except commoners who might occasionally stand in the way of progress. That I should harm no Procus families save those who had enriched themselves through trade, risking the plague all over again with their reckless imports.”
Flavian brushed an imaginary speck from his sleeve. “Of course, I shared my methods with other mages who chafed under the yoke of slavery. When you wormed your way into the Royal Academy, I knew it was time to begin putting a more destructive plan in place. I couldn’t in good conscience allow the slavery of mages to continue, not knowing that one day, a commoner might control their chains.” He reached toward my neck again, and I flinched.
He drew his hand back and tapped his cheek. “I know what we need,” he said. “A little something to get things started.” He looked at Zel, whose beautiful face was calm and blank as she waited beside him. “Rapunzel, my dear, kill her.”
Chapter 25
His words rang in my ears, punctuated by the muffled sobs of Bri and Alba. Weslan must have regained consciousness. He screamed, too, his words too distorted to understand.
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br /> I tried to rip my arm from the guard, but he held me fast. My feet scrabbled against the ground as my terrified body decided to try to run anyway, unwilling to give into its fate. But my mind was locked on Zel as she advanced toward me, her graceful movements so painfully familiar.
I watched her face desperately, hoping against hope. And yet, wasn’t that the whole point of the True Name? To wrap a mage’s will in your own? Flavian controlled her now. There was nothing she could do.
She raised her hand to deliver the killing touch just as Darien and Raven shouted from the hallway behind me. The Sentinels were here. It was too late for me, but not too late for them. I stopped fighting and sagged with relief.
Zel, the twins, and Weslan would be rescued. The Blight would be stopped. Zel would kill me, but she needed a future. I had to make sure she would be able to move on. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.
I stared into her hazel eyes and ignored their blankness. Zel was in there, somewhere. I had to try. “Zel, I forgive you.” I echoed her own words back to her. “I love you like my own mother. No matter what. Never, never forget that.” I forced myself to keep my eyes open as I waited for the end to come. I wouldn’t leave her alone in this. I would show her, right up until the last moment, that I forgave her, that I loved her. That she wasn’t alone.
She froze.
I stared in amazement. Her face was no longer completely blank. There it was—the slightest tightening around her eyes. Was she resisting Flavian’s command?
My enemy must have wondered the same thing. “Rapunzel,” he hissed, and this time I could practically feel the controlling magic that dripped from her True Name. “Kill her. Now!”
But Zel’s hand hovered near my throat. There was a heavy, terrifying pause, as though the whole city was holding its breath at once.
Then she snapped. One second she was in front of me, and the next, she was gripping Flavian’s throat instead of mine. His mouth gaped open as her absorbent Touch took over. Before I took my next breath, his body was gray and parched, utterly drained of life.
Zel dove at the tracker holding me, and then he was gone. She took out the other guards in the same way, moving gracefully and rapidly, like a spider pouncing on her prey before they knew what was happening.
The Blight’s men were lifeless, gray heaps on the ground. Zel stood among them, not even the slightest bit tired.
A shock of silence followed.
“Zel Stone,” Raven called, “by order of the crown prince, you’re under arrest. Come peacefully, or die now.”
Chapter 26
The silence of the bakery unnerved me. I sang to myself to fill the silence as I worked on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. The soft, haunting melody from Alba’s fabulator crystal came unbidden to my mind.
Asylia, the City of Hope,
you never sleep but always dream.
I know you love those who love you,
no matter how hard you may seem.
I sang the words under my breath, off-key, wishing I could hear Alba’s sweet, clear voice instead.
Seven full days had passed since Zel killed the Blight leader. Seven days of scrubbing and cleaning, polishing, packing, and humming to drown out the hurt and loneliness, to fill the emptiness around me.
I’d sold the bakery. I couldn’t keep living here on my own, not when memories of Zel, the girls, and Weslan lurked in every corner of the shop and living quarters. At noon today, I would hand my ring of keys to the new owner and move the few possessions I hadn’t sold into a modest studio apartment over on Thrush Street, several blocks away in the Common Quarter.
After Zel’s arrest, we’d all been shuttled to the palace and hustled into the Sentinels’ offices for debriefing. I’d spent hours pacing alone in a small room, wondering what was happening to everyone else. When a guard finally came for me, I was ready to burst. And then I’d followed him out into the hallway, only to see Zel standing there, unbound, with the twins tucked under her arms and an impossibly wide smile on her face.
They’d rushed forward and hugged me, and we’d rocked back and forth in a tearful, happy, eight-legged mess. Finally, the twins got tired of being mashed between us, and they ducked out of our arms.
I pulled back and looked at Zel’s lively face. “How did you do that? I don’t understand! I thought you were going to—” I stopped speaking as tears filled her eyes.
She swallowed and shook her head. “I almost did. I—” Her voice broke, and she pressed her palms against her eyes.
I rubbed her shoulders. “But you didn’t. Somehow, you didn’t.”
She moved her hands away and smiled at me through her tears. “I thought it was possible—even when I was a little girl locked in that tower—that I might be able to resist my True Name. I always thought that one day, if I was just strong enough, stubborn enough, I’d be able to escape control and never be someone else’s weapon again.”
“But how?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I did my best to practice, even at the bakery. But it’s like training your muscles when you have no weight to lift. I had no idea if I’d ever be able to resist. But I had to try, because I couldn’t go back to that life.”
All those times she’d been cloistered on the rooftop, working quietly in her garden, she must have been practicing. I’d occasionally thought it odd that a powerful absorbent mage like Zel would dedicate so much time and effort to growing plants—it seemed like something more suited to an expellant mage, like a grower or creator. Now, it made sense.
Zel shivered. “And then, when Flavian ordered me to kill you, all my resistance and training meant nothing. My hand moved forward, no matter how I fought it. That’s when I realized I’d been thinking about it all wrong. The key wasn’t to resist, because that channeled all my energy against my True Name. The key was to focus my energy on remembering who I am, to take my True Name and make it my own again.” She smiled gently. “And I know who I am. I’m your mother.”
She folded me into her arms, holding me tight and rocking me for a moment like I was a small child again. Then she pressed me close one more time. “Sell the bakery,” she whispered in my ear.
I pulled back from her, shocked.
The softest hint of sadness touched her eyes. “We’re not coming back with you. Prince Estevan has given me a place at the Mage Division, but because of … well, everything … I’ll be confined to the division.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Still, it’s far better than it could’ve been. Bri and Alba will go to the Mage Academy, and life will be better. I know it.”
Her secretive smile confused me.
I followed her gaze instead. She was right. The girls would love it. They would be so excited to be around their peers. How wonderful it would be for them to have the chance to meet people, to roam free and explore, the way young women should. I forced a shaky smile onto my face. “I’m happy for you, Zel. For all of you.” I didn’t know what I would do without them.
“I owe you an apology, Ella.” Zel swallowed. “I’ve told you how I grew up hidden in a tower in Draicia. Well, as horrible as my life was there, I think I got so used to staying hidden that I ended up doing the same thing to you and the twins. I turned that bakery into a tower. And yes, it kept us safe, but there was a price. You paid the price for us. And I’m so very sorry.”
I shook my head. Why was she apologizing? She’d had no choice. “What else could you have done?”
She took my hands. “I love you, sweetheart. But you can’t stay there anymore. It’s not your prison anymore, got it? Sell the bakery, and the funds will be enough to tide you over for a while until you decide what to do. Find something for yourself. Promise me.”
My throat threatened to close. “I … I’ll try.” I forced out a laugh to ease the tension.
“I’ll take it,” she said.
I said a tearful farewell to the twins, and then my stepmother and stepsisters were led away by Darien, the same guard with the scru
ffy beard who had believed my wild tale.
After that, I met Weslan in Prince Estevan’s small, messy office in the Sentinels’ headquarters. He’d called us in together after Zel left and sentenced us for all our various crimes against the Crown. We had to close the bakery, for now, but he would cancel our fines, leaving us with a tidy sum of profits to divide between us. We had to work off our crimes as laborers in the work of the prince’s choosing.
Prince Estevan smiled when he announced that we would serve our sentences on a research committee to explore reformation of the regulations on mage employment in Asylia. “You had the right idea,” he said. He had significantly more color than when I’d seen him last. “Now do the same thing, but legally this time.” He gave me a sharp look. “And with more test subjects.”
I couldn’t help but grin.
Weslan and I left the prince’s office, and then paused in the hallway when the door shut. His perfect face was now marred with horrible bruising, his once-clean shirt ripped and covered with dried blood. He’d never looked more handsome to me. He stared down at me with a faint smile on his face, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from me, and I had to wonder if he was thinking the same thing about me.
“Shall we …?” I suddenly felt nervous. I’d never lived at the bakery without Zel and the twins there. “Shall we take the trolley back?”
His face shifted into a frown, and he leaned back on his heels. “I’m not going with you, Ella.”
“What?” I felt my heart beat uncomfortably at his words. He wouldn’t—
“I’m going back to the Mage Division. Since Prince Estevan rescinded my expulsion, I have to go see my family, my friends. I can’t stay with you anymore, Ella.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. My throat felt like it was being squeezed in the Blight’s iron grip again. I nodded and then lifted a hand in a small, awkward wave. What was I doing? “Good-bye,” I whispered.
I rushed away, following the guard who waited to lead me through the maze of corridors and out to the palace gates.