by Cora Carmack
She took a deep, almost ominous breath and said, “I was supposed to be married.”
He was standing and halfway across the room before he’d even realized it. He made himself stop. His heart was hammering, the sound in his ears rivaling any storm he had ever faced.
“Married? To whom?” A tangle of emotions rose in his chest—anger and jealousy and fear. And then … horrified realization. The pieces began sliding into place. She was educated, very educated. She always spoke with such surety and command. She’d been so secretive about her life in Pavan. She wanted to come back for her mother. Everything in him slowed, as if he were trying to claw himself free of time so that he could stop the words from leaving her mouth.
“I was supposed to marry Cassius Locke.”
He recoiled. He’d lived with the name Locke himself for so long, but now he thought he might vomit if he even thought it again. He took one step back, then another. Then he made himself look at her. One glimpse of her skyfire-white hair, and he wondered how he had not seen it before. He felt stupid and sick to his bones.
“Say something,” Aurora whispered.
“What am I supposed to say?” His voice was gravel, stripped down to stone, and the hurt in her expression immediately showered him with guilt. But he could not apologize. He was too busy desperately drawing on every ounce of control he had to stop from losing his mind.
Royalty. She was bleeding royalty.
He turned toward the door, suddenly desperate for space. His mind was calling up every suspicious word or moment in their history, seeing them in a new light, and he needed it to stop. Everything was unraveling—both the past they’d shared and the future he had envisioned.
She was royalty. He was, for all intents and purposes, a criminal.
“Where are you going?”
He did not answer, and as he reached the door, he felt her hands on his back.
“Wait, please. Let me explain.”
He kept his eyes fixed on the wooden door in front of him, tracing the grain to keep from looking back at her. “I understand, perfectly.”
“No! You don’t.” She slammed a hand on his back, none too gently. “Look at me.”
“I can’t,” he breathed, pressing his eyes closed. He’d said he wanted to be good for her. And somehow she had looked him in the eyes without laughing. In what world would an orphaned renegade be good for a future queen?
She slipped around him, sliding between his body and the door. “I am still me.”
“Are you? Nothing I know about you is true.”
Everything was a lie. From the moment they had met in the Eye, everything he thought he knew—all false.
She took his hand, holding it between both of hers and pressing it close to her chest. “We are true. I did not lie about any of that.”
He did not think she did. That was part of what made this so scorching hard. He loved her. She loved him. But it would not matter, not in this world.
Unless …
He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “We could leave,” he said. “Go anywhere on the continent. We’ll make a new life.”
That he could do. He might not be able to give her a palace, but the riskiest hunters could name their price. He’d get her as close to a palace as was possible in the wildlands. Skies, the two of them together, they could carve out their own territory to protect. Who needed Stormlings at all?
She was already shaking her head. “I cannot do that. Look at what’s happened in my absence. My mother is ill, the city is under attack, and a ruthless family has taken over my kingdom.”
The words hung in silence between them. Her kingdom. He had simply been a reprieve from this life, this place. He had been a pause, the same as she had asked for tonight.
“And how, exactly, do you plan on regaining your kingdom?” he asked, his stomach lurching painfully. “Will you marry the prince?”
“No,” she insisted, horrified.
“You should,” he answered, bile rising in his throat. “It’s the simplest way to make things right.”
“If I cared about simple, I would not have staged my own kidnapping and run away with you.”
Skies above, he had forgotten that part of the princess’s story completely. The soldiers they had encountered in the wildlands had said she was kidnapped. What would have happened to his crew if she had been discovered then? What would happen to them if she was discovered now?
He pulled away from her, crossing the room to put distance between them as his temper flared to life. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’ve brought on the rest of us? I told you what the Lockes did to my sister. They took a child to the gallows for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What do you think they will do to the people who took away the prince’s intended bride?”
Her bright blue eyes were covered in a sheen of tears as she answered, “You did not take me away. I took myself.”
“That won’t matter much when there’s a noose around our necks.”
This was his fault. It was his responsibility to protect his crew. Sly had told him, told everyone that there was something not right about Roar’s story. But he’d been too blinded by what he felt for her.
“I know,” she whispered, a single broken sob cracking through. “I know how selfish I have been. But I promise I would never let that happen.”
“Are you paying attention, Aurora? This isn’t the home you left. Things have changed. You can’t just waltz back in and demand your crown back, not unless you plan to marry to do it.”
“There are other ways. Yesterday, I saw an old member of my personal guard. I followed him.”
“You did what? Bleeding skies. What if he saw you?” Gods, even now there could be soldiers out there looking for her. He turned back toward the bed, his mind already turning toward packing up, deciding they should move locations to be safe.
Aurora’s voice stopped him. “He did see me. Jinx and I followed him, and he ended up leading us to a secret hideout for members of a rebellion. They can help me find out what happened and fight to undo it.”
Kiran pressed his hands against his head, trying to soothe a brutal ache that had started down the center of his forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m supposed to meet him again in the morning,” she said. “I had hoped you would go with me.”
“Not that,” he snapped. “You left this place, left everyone in it. You were so desperate to leave that you followed strangers into one of the most dangerous situations imaginable. And now you want to fight and possibly die in some revolution for this place?” His voice was growing louder, his frustration harder to tame. “Even if you win, there’s a madman outside those gates somewhere probably planning to level this city into nothing but dust and ash like he did the last one. We could be back in the wildlands tomorrow, back to hunting storms and living however we want to live.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and Kiran hated how vulnerable she looked. “You want me to run away?”
“Yes!” he cried. “You did it once before, what’s the difference?”
“I never planned to stay away,” she yelled, her breath coming in heaving pants.
He stared at her, and for just a moment, he hated her. His life had been so simple before she came along. He fought storms, made money, and lived each day however he wanted, as if it might be his last, as if it should be his last. Then she had cracked him open, and made him feel and want things he had never let himself want. He began to think of what it might be like to plan past the present, to dream of a future. And now he knew that was all a lie. There was no future here. Not between them. She was a Stormling. He was nothing.
“Kiran,” she murmured, stepping toward him.
He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
He did not know what he might do if she did. He would never hurt her, not on purpose. But he had never felt this many emotions at the same time. He did not know if he wanted to cry or yell or beg
her to leave with him. And he hated feeling so out of control.
He needed to leave. Now. He crossed to the bed and jammed his feet into his boots. From a chair in the corner, he pulled on his supply belt and a coat.
“Kiran, please. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
“What was your intention then?”
She shrugged, her eyes glistening with tears. “I wanted to be happy. I wanted to choose my own life, rather than having it chosen for me.”
“Is that not what is happening now? You feel guilty because you left, and now you are going to get yourself killed for it. If you go against the Lockes, they won’t care who you are. Princess or peasant child—they will cut down anyone in their way.”
“I left so I could become the woman I needed to be in order to protect my kingdom. And now it’s time for me to do that.”
“You’re a Stormling. What more did you need?”
She touched a hand to her heart, where Kiran could see the furious flashing of the skyfire storm in her breast through the fabric of her shirt, and the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
“You needed magic,” he said.
She nodded. “Mine never manifested, at least that’s what we all believed. It’s why I was supposed to marry Cassius. He was powerful enough to make up for my … flaws. But then I met you, and everything changed. I realized that I did not have to remain helpless.”
So they had always been a stepping stone for her. A means to an end. She would have used them to gain power and then left them to return home, the conquering Stormling.
“I see.”
“You saved my life that day, Kiran. You kept me from making what would have been the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Did I? Sounds to me like I was the mistake. If you never met me, the city would not be in upheaval, you would still have your crown, and you would be with your mother and your friends where you belong.”
“I belong with you.” She sounded so earnest, so sweet. And it only made him want to run, far and fast.
“But I don’t belong here, Princess.” His lips curled into a bitterly sad smile. “I never will.”
Then he opened the door, and he left.
* * *
Aurora stayed at the inn as long as she could the next morning, waiting for Kiran to come back. Jinx was with her, and the two had barely spoken. They did not need to. Aurora and Kiran had woken most of the inn with their argument. And while the others had no idea what had caused all the yelling, Jinx knew without having to be told.
Finally, when she could wait no more, Aurora said, “You don’t have to come. This is my mess. I won’t drag the rest of you into it.”
She met the witch’s eyes, and flinched at the wary look she found there. Jinx might be here, but it was clear she had misgivings.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Aurora shrugged helplessly. “My whole life, my mother drilled into me that I could not trust anyone but myself. Secrets are what I know. Besides, it was difficult enough to get Kiran to agree to let me join the crew. If he’d had any inkling of who I was, he never would have allowed it.”
“That was then. In all the weeks that followed, did we not do enough to earn your trust?”
A stone sunk in Aurora’s middle. For a girl made of flesh and bones, she felt like she had wreaked more havoc than one person should be capable of.
“Of course you did. But by then, it was too dangerous. Soldiers were looking for me, and my magic was out of control. Truth be told, there were days I thought about being Roar forever.”
“I think that’s the problem. All of us are loners in some way. We don’t form attachments easily. But you were one of us. Nothing matters more in a crew than trust. We would all be dead a hundred times over if we didn’t have it. We invited you into the closest thing we all have to family, and for you it was temporary. How are any of us supposed to react to that?”
“I don’t know,” Aurora answered, her insides feeling shredded. “It is not as if I could have anticipated any of this. I did not know I would fall in love with Kiran. I did not know how much I would love you all.”
“But once you did, you still kept your secret. You never let us in the way we did for you.”
“I made a mistake. If I could go back and change it, I would. Because I’ve never been happier than the time I spent on this crew. But how could I live with myself if I turned my back on these people now? I would die a little every day knowing what fate I had left them to. I’m dying now knowing there are remnants vulnerable and suffering outside these gates. I know that Stormlings are not known for their compassion, but that’s something I would like to change. Something I will change.”
Jinx shook her head. “You even sound like a princess.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
Jinx reached out and took Aurora’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “No. Everybody wishes they could change the world. You actually can. I hope you do everything you want to do and more. I genuinely believe you can. But if you do this … you have to put those people above everything else—your own needs and wants and fears. It won’t work any other way. And that’s what Kiran knows. He knows you will belong to your people more than you ever will to him.”
Aurora nodded, hearing his final words from their argument during the night.
I don’t belong here.
Strangely enough, she had felt the same way her entire life. Even now … she would never be a normal Stormling. But she loved her home, and she believed it could be better.
“Just give him some time. It is a lot to process for all of us, Your Highness,” Jinx gave a teasing half-bow.
Aurora groaned. “Please don’t start that. It’s been so nice to be treated like a normal person.”
Jinx tapped her finger on her chin. “I loathe to be the one to break it to you, but you are far from normal.”
“Says the woman who waged a full-on battle with vines she conjured from nowhere.”
“That was incredibly impressive, true.”
“It was,” Aurora said with a smile. “You always are.”
Jinx groaned and waved her hand in the air dramatically. “Enough with the mushy talk. I don’t want to catch your emotions.” She covered her mouth as though the weepy feeling in Aurora’s throat was contagious.
Feeling a spark of lightness for the first time all morning, Aurora threw her arms around Jinx for a hug. The witch protested loudly enough for the neighbors to hear, but her arms folded around Aurora without hesitation.
Aurora had not realized how close she’d been to breaking until the hug eased her back from the brink.
“You might be a princess,” Jinx whispered, “But you’re still a novie to me, novie.” Jinx pushed her back, dusting herself off as though the hug had left behind residue. “We’re going to be late to your meeting.”
“We?” Aurora asked.
“Of course. Like I would let you have all the fun.”
The sun had already broken past the horizon. Taven would be wondering where she was. If she did not get there soon, he would start searching for her. She pulled up her hood, and together she and Jinx set out at a clipped pace.
The streets were busier today already. The damage from yesterday’s firestorm appeared extensive. And with the sun’s rise, people had risen too to repair their homes and comb through the wreckage. As badly as she was hurting, the sight of all this destruction only made her feel more certain that she was making the right decision. She would not let Pavan become like Calibah—nothing but stories and myths left to haunt the ruins. She had read the story of Calibah’s siege and Finneus Wolfram’s last desperate attempts to save his people more times than she could count in her childhood. She had seen herself in the outsider that was Finneus—a noble Stormling by birth, but an adventurer and sailor by calling. He had not been what society expected of a noble lord, but in the end it was he who rose up in the city’s darkest moments.
It was Aurora’s turn to do tha
t now. She had not been a particularly good princess. But she belonged to Pavan, and Pavan to her, and she would fight for it until her dying breath, as her childhood hero had done upon the seas.
When they reached the location of the rebellion’s hidden shelter, Taven was waiting for her, visibly distressed.
“Thank the goddess,” he said. And then he bowed to her right there in the street.
“Stand up,” she hissed. “Someone could see.”
Jinx only snickered behind Aurora.
“I do not care,” Taven answered. “You are alive. Better if the people know. They’ll be more inclined to fight back.”
It was not like Taven to be so careless, or so emotional. But of course, she had no idea what he had been through these months. She was about to find out though, and her stomach tossed with dread.
“Let’s get inside. There’s a great deal to talk about before we get to that point.”
He removed the fake plants covering the door, and gestured for the girls to go first. Then he followed down after, pulling the camouflage back in place as he closed the door.
Today, there was a lantern already waiting in the first room. Taven picked it up and led them to the door on the right side of the room. The door, it appeared, was kept locked, for he knocked—three times in rapid succession, followed by a pause, and two more slower knocks. Aurora heard a lock slide, and then the door opened, revealing a man standing guard, armed with a wickedly curved blade. Beyond him lay a shockingly long corridor lit by skyfire lanterns. There were a few rooms off to each side; most appeared to be stockpiled with supplies. Taven continued past them all to a closed door at the end. This time there was no secret knock, merely a few quick hard raps.
Aurora heard deep, throaty laughter inside that could only be Zephyr—the water witch. Aurora barely had time to process the news in all the ensuing fallout. Of course, Jinx had told her that witches of numerous powers existed, but Aurora had been taught for so long that witches were extinct that it still stunned her anew every time those lessons were proven wrong.
The laughter moved closer, and then the door swung open just in time for them to catch the show of Zephyr’s head slung backward in mirth—her wild hair as dark as the space that stretched between stars.