Sarika shrugged. “We don’t know. Maybe the soldiers Wymund sent after them will come back with answers. Hopefully they’ll at least come back with the children.”
I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered.
“Let’s get you into some dry clothes,” Sarika said. She gestured in the direction of our packs. “May I?”
I nodded. Unless Sarika wanted to steal dirty clothes, she wasn’t going to find much in there. Mare would have her coin purse on her. Sarika brought me the chamber pot and helped me change out of my soaked garments, then settled me near the hearth. The familiarity of having someone dress me was soothing. It gave me a pang of nostalgia for my life as a princess, a time when I’d known my purpose. Things had been so much less complicated then.
I stared into the flames. The worry and dread in the pit of my stomach kept me feeling cold in spite of the fire’s heat. I wanted Mare to come back so I’d feel a little less unmoored, and so we could talk about where we were going next and how quickly we could leave.
“How long have I been here?” I asked.
“You slept all night and most of today,” Sarika said, using a long hook to hang a kettle in the hearth. “I could have woken you sooner, but your body needed the time to heal. I’m brewing some tea that will help keep your magic under control. Do you think you can hold anything down right now?”
“I don’t know,” I said. My head felt fuzzy and my limbs held down by invisible weights. As I got warmer, the spots on my arms that had hurt so much when I first called on my magic danced with pins and needles that wouldn’t ease. I wished the feeling would stop. The last thing I wanted was another physical reminder of my magic. Sometimes my gift made me feel possessed by an evil spirit. That was one of the Mynarian theories about magic—one I’d tried not to believe in too much. But maybe there was something to it if I could hurt people without meaning to.
I tried to push the dark thoughts away while Sarika prepared my tea. She moved with purposeful confidence that reminded me of Ryka, the captain of the guard back home in Mynaria.
Home.
Was that how I thought of Mynaria now? I shouldn’t let myself think of it that way, given that thanks to my Affinity, I might never be able to return. All I’d ever wanted, or thought I’d wanted, was to become queen of Mynaria, just like I’d been trained to. I thought I’d marry the prince and ascend the throne and use my power as a monarch to help the people of both our kingdoms. But that dream had gone up in smoke the day Thandi found out I was “dead.” Or, if I was being honest with myself, the day I finally understood that my feelings for Mare ran far deeper than friendship.
Somehow, I had to find new dreams, but I had no idea where to start.
Sarika held out a steaming mug of tea.
“What is it?” I took the mug.
“Willow bark and peaceroot,” she said. “Have you had peaceroot before?”
“No.” I shook my head, feeling sick all over again. Karov, a Zumordan I’d met in Mynaria, had told me about peaceroot—an herb used to quell Affinities. He’d told me the side effects of long-term use were awful: blinding headaches, and numbness in the hands and feet that would eventually make flesh necrotic.
“I see you know what it is,” she said, deftly reading my expression. “You don’t have to drink it, but it’s the safest way to temporarily stop you from losing control of your gift. And it will keep you from being so easy to detect.”
“Easy to detect?” I asked, confused.
“You haven’t been shielding yourself, so every time you use your magic, it’s like shooting off a beacon that most people with Affinities can feel from a hundred leagues away. Someone needs to teach you to rein in your powers—for your safety and everyone else’s.”
I swallowed hard. “What happens if no one does?”
“You could cause a catastrophic accident. Or lose control to the point where the magic consumes you from the inside out. And if the wrong people get their hands on you . . . they’ll twist you into whatever shape they choose and use you as a weapon.”
Dread sank deep into my bones. Sarika’s tone was so matter-of-fact, as if she weren’t talking about my life. Like I was a thing and not a person—a dangerous thing. Who might use me? How would they do it? How many people existed who might be powerful enough to do that, and how could I defend myself against them? It made my head spin trying to see around all the corners ahead.
I raised the mug to my nose. Coils of steam rose from it, astringent and herbal.
Sarika raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve decided?”
“I don’t see how I have any choice,” I said bitterly. “I set my own cot on fire without even realizing it. I hurt people on the good side of a battle, and I killed people without meaning to. How can anyone feel safe around me if this magic isn’t under control?” There wasn’t any point in indulging my fears about the peaceroot or wondering what would happen if I needed my magic and couldn’t call on it. The possibility of hurting Mare felt like a greater risk every day, and if that happened, I would never be able to forgive myself.
I took a sip. The bitter tea wasn’t pleasant going down, but I was thirsty enough that it wasn’t so bad.
“This is the safest way for now,” Sarika said, her voice more gentle. “I’ll leave you a supply of peaceroot that should last a week or two. I don’t recommend you take it longer than that.”
“Can you teach me how to shield?” I asked Sarika. The sooner I learned the basics, the safer it would be for everyone—especially Mare.
She hesitated before answering, her sharp gaze falling away for a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” My heart dropped even further.
“Your Affinity is not like mine,” she said. “Someone much more powerful is going to have to train you, preferably someone with a fire Affinity like yours.”
“But if shielding is a basic skill—” I started.
“No.” Sarika’s tone was firm, and I knew it would be futile to argue. “My magic is not nearly strong enough to hold yours back if something went wrong.”
Her rejection stung, even if her reasons were sound. All I wanted was to learn, and no one had ever deprived me of that in my old life. After finishing my tea, I lay down on the cushions in front of the fire and closed my eyes. Numbness filled in the places inside me scorched raw by magic, and my gift receded into the distance. Not being able to sense it brought an uneasy peace. I was grateful for the calm, but all too aware of its falsity.
What a waste to have a gift I couldn’t even use. I felt like I was drowning in it sometimes, like the magic was slowly rising into a tsunami. It didn’t matter how far or how fast I ran, because the wave continued to grow, to loom, to tower over me until it blocked out the rest of the world and I was faced with something I could never fight back.
The only thing still keeping me afloat was Mare’s love.
FIVE
Amaranthine
THE DINING HALL AT DUVEY KEEP WAS MORE LIKE what we had for the liegemen’s barracks in Mynaria than a proper feast room in a castle. My stomach lurched when I saw the trestle tables stretching the length of the hall, all with hard, backless benches instead of chairs. I used to sit at tables like these with my best friend, Nils, play games of dice or cards, hear the people gossip and tease each other about their latest conquests and failures in training and in the bedroom. Now Nils was dead, and the memories ached inside me. Pieces of melodies from the mourning songs echoing through the keep earlier in the day still resonated in my mind, making me think of him and everyone else I’d lost back in Mynaria.
I wove between the tables following my escort, a short but sturdy-looking swordswoman with a battered sheath belted around her waist. A few people were already seated, partaking of cheese, cured meats, and crackers laid out on trenchers. The only people at the keep who weren’t dressed in wool clothes or leather armor were a couple of late-season trade families, and the fact that their formal garments looked worn or slightly
outdated spoke volumes.
“Your seat, my lady,” the swordswoman said in roughly accented Tradespeech, leading me up onto a dais at one end of the room and gesturing to a bench at the lone table there. Assuming Zumordan protocol was similar to Mynaria’s, Lord Wymund had seated me as an honored guest.
“Thank you,” I said, and took my seat. I should have been planning my next move as ambassador, introducing myself to anyone who seemed of suitably high rank, but instead I fidgeted, consumed with worry about Denna and wondering how long the meal would take. Even though Sarika had assured me after her first examination that Denna’s condition was stable, I couldn’t help worrying that something would change while I was away. Every time I’d had to step out to check on Flicker or use the bathroom, I felt like something terrible might happen. This meal was no exception.
Raucous laughter filled the hall as soldiers poured into the room. People seated themselves with no order I could discern, their sorrow from earlier chased away by the promise of celebrating the successful defense of the keep. The meats, cheeses, and crackers barely lasted three minutes, and then the volume of the conversations in the hall quickly began to rise.
I craned my neck to watch the largest entrance in hopes that Wymund would show up soon and set the servers into motion. But instead of a man, an enormous mountain cat stalked into the dining hall. It walked with its head low, amber eyes intent on the table where I was sitting. My eyes skittered across the room in search of some cue about how to react, but no one seemed to take notice at all. I was half up from the bench, about to bolt for the door, when the animal sinuously stretched and warped before my eyes. Seconds later, the towering, bearded figure of Lord Wymund himself stood before me in place of the cat.
I felt faint. Though I’d seen that female soldier turn into a fox the night before, it hadn’t prepared me for this.
“Your Highness!” he bellowed in Tradespeech. “So glad you could join us for dinner tonight.”
Servants hurried to serve the first course—a gamy-smelling soup.
“Thank you for your invitation, my lord.” I sat down, gathering my wits. Even without the shock of Wymund’s appearance, etiquette had never been my strength. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that in Zumorda, seeing a gigantic mountain cat turn into a man was apparently perfectly ordinary.
Wymund settled in at the table, his entourage following suit until soldiers surrounded me on all sides. They wore heavy leathers lined with wool, giving the whole dining room the faint reek of wet sheep.
“How’s your maidservant doing? Better, I hope?” Wymund asked, raising his dark, bushy eyebrows. Before I answered, he proceeded to shovel some soup into his mouth. I grimaced as a sizeable amount of the watery broth ended up in his beard.
“Still resting.” I tried to smile, but the look I got from the woman sitting across from me seemed to indicate that I hadn’t succeeded.
“Perhaps you’d like some help coordinating somewhere safe for her to recover?” Wymund asked. “There are some more remote places we could send her until she is healed and ready to apprentice to someone who can help her master her gift.”
“I’m sure we could find you a new servant,” the woman across from me added. Her voice was low and soft, much like the hoot of an owl. “There are young women here who would be honored to have the opportunity.”
“Fewer than there were before the Sonnenbornes attacked,” another soldier said bitterly.
The man next to him laid his hand on the soldier’s arm. “The scouts will find your sister. Knowing her, she’s already fighting back.”
“How can she, if they dosed her with peaceroot?” The soldier shook off his comrade’s touch.
“We’re doing all we can to find them,” Lord Wymund said, his tone stern. The table hushed as he made eye contact with everyone sitting around him. Then he turned back to me. “As Periline said, if you’re willing to take on another maidservant, we could help get Lia the safety and training she needs. It’s the least we can do after you helped us defend the keep.”
Periline’s cool gaze met mine, challenging me to go against her lord’s suggestion. I tore my eyes away and surveyed the table, noticing that everyone was suddenly quite occupied with their food or wine. The silence held palpable tension, and I knew exactly what it meant—they wanted Denna gone.
“Your offer is so kind,” I said, rattled. “But my kingdom is counting on me to speak with the queen as soon as possible. Hopefully Lia will wake soon so we can be on our way in the next day or two.” Even if they hadn’t been eager to get rid of Denna, with the news from my brother, it was more important than ever that we keep moving. “Are any trade or military caravans heading north from here?”
“Not this year,” Wymund said, dashing my hopes. “We had some autumn flooding, and the north roads are already closed. Have been since just after harvest.”
“That’s terrible.” My mind raced with worries. How were we going to get to the queen if the roads were closed? Taking a roundabout way could add so much time to our journey that winter would make the roads farther north impassable on horseback.
“Yes, but we have plenty of soldiers. No better crew to move heavy rocks and resurface roads as long as the weather allows,” Wymund said. “And we have Periline.” He gestured to the woman across from me. “Her manifest is a snowy owl. She can check on the nearby farms, make sure everyone has what they need.”
Then I put the pieces together. Tavi, the soldier who’d fetched Sarika, had been able to change to and from a fox. Wymund could take the form of a mountain cat. Periline apparently had the ability to become a snowy owl. Denna had told me that Karov, the Zumordan who had introduced himself to us in Mynaria, could change into a mountain bluebird. That meant manifests were the animal forms Zumordans could take. I swallowed a large mouthful of soup, scalding my tongue in an attempt to hide my discomfort with the strangeness of it all.
“So if we can’t head north directly, what is the best way to get to Corovja?” I asked. “Our news for the queen is urgent.”
“If you hurry, you might not need to travel all the way to Corovja to meet with her,” Wymund said. “Recruitment for her elite training program began a few weeks ago, and she’s likely to be in Kartasha a little while longer.”
“Wait—the queen is in Kartasha now?” I had assumed that like my brother, and my father before him, she would rarely leave the crown city. If she were in the southern city of Kartasha, only a week’s ride away, I could be done with my duties in no time and free to focus on getting Denna the training she needed.
Wymund nodded. “She visits Kartasha for a week or so each year, usually traveling south with the nobles when they move to the Winter Court. This is a longer trip than her usual visit, thanks to its being a selection year for her training program.”
“The Winter Court?” I asked, cursing my kingdom’s lack of knowledge about Zumordan politics.
“It’s where the nobles spend the winter,” Periline said. “The seat of power switches between Corovja and Kartasha seasonally, though Queen Invasya usually remains in Corovja for most of the year. In the winter, the grand vizier serves as the queen’s proxy at the Winter Court.” She regarded me neutrally, waiting to see what I did with this information.
My mind reeled. I hadn’t known there were two courts. How was I supposed to broker an alliance with the queen in one place and her court in another? The only answer seemed to be to catch her while she was still in Kartasha.
“What exactly is the queen’s training program?” I asked.
“The same one I tried out for years ago,” Wymund said. “I didn’t get in, but I did get this scar in a bar fight in Kartasha.” He pointed proudly to a gash that ran down the front of his neck and under the breastplate of his armor. “Every five years or so the queen selects a group of magic users to train with her personally before moving on to their apprenticeships. The selections are held in Kartasha in autumn, since it’s the biggest city in Zumorda. Most of the queen
’s trainees will end up apprenticed to guardians and will follow in our footsteps.”
“It is a great honor to be chosen,” Periline said.
“And a rare one,” Wymund said. “My gift wasn’t strong enough to interest the queen, so I worked my way up to guardianship. Turns out a military strategist was more useful along this part of the border than a strong Affinity anyway.” He tore a chunk of bread off the loaf in front of him and used it to mop up the last of his soup.
“How much longer will the queen be in Kartasha?” I asked, already itching to get on the road.
“The fighters we sent there for auxiliary security detail should be heading back sometime in the next two weeks, so I doubt she’ll be there any longer than that,” he said.
“How many soldiers did you send?” I frowned.
“Fifty of our best.” He smiled, and even though sadness lingered in his expression, crow’s-feet appeared at the corners of his eyes.
I sat back a little. No wonder the keep had been such an easy target for the Sonnenbornes. Fifty fighters had to be nearly 20 percent of their overall numbers, and if they’d sent their best to the queen . . . well. They’d been asking for an attack. The only question was how the Sonnenbornes had gotten word of their vulnerability—and what they’d ultimately been after.
“Lia and I will have to leave as soon as she’s able,” I said.
“Well, if I can’t offer your maid any help or convince you to stay, is there anything else I can do to express our gratitude for your help protecting Duvey?”
I opened my mouth to tell him we didn’t need anything, only to realize he’d given me an excellent opportunity. “Perhaps there’s someone you could spare to guide us to Kartasha?” I asked. Traveling with a Zumordan would help us be more accepted by others on our journey and would give us a chance to prepare ourselves for our arrival in a bigger city. Learning more about Zumorda would hopefully prevent us from making any major social faux pas when we arrived at the Winter Court. My heart squeezed painfully at the thought of Denna back in our room. I was thinking like her. She’d be proud of me if she knew.
Of Ice and Shadows Page 4