Of Ice and Shadows

by Audrey Coulthurst

  I turned back to the light and flicked it on and off again, trying not to let her see how much her anxiousness about magic stung me. It wasn’t her fault, especially after someone had nearly killed her with their powers tonight. Still, every time I saw the worry in her eyes, it felt like rejection. Somehow, I needed to reassure her—and myself—that things would be all right.

  “Do you think being here is a terrible mistake?” She unbuttoned her jacket and leaned back against the chaise.

  I shook my head. “Your kingdom needs you.” I stepped in front of Mare, letting my hands alight on her shoulders. I climbed my fingers up to the nape of her neck as she exhaled, then pulled out her braid, burying my hands in her chestnut hair. “I need you.”

  She reached for me, beckoning me closer. When I sat down beside her, she put her lips on my cheek, brushing a tingling line to my mouth. No matter how many times we kissed, it felt like an impossible gift. The curves of her body were a source of endless magic—a territory that I wanted to spend my whole life mapping.

  Our lips met and parted, exploring each other as jolts of desire sang through my body. She lay back and pulled me on top of her, slipping her hands under my shirt to run them up my back. Her smile against my neck made me weak. Then she bit lightly. A shock ran down to my shoulder, raising goose bumps in its wake.

  I wanted her to touch me everywhere she could reach, and some places she couldn’t without our clothes coming off. Our kisses deepened and she raised her thigh between my legs in a way that sent sparks racing through me. My magic surged with my emotions, consuming me with energy. I no longer had a body; I was only sensation, pulsing, sparkling, the glow of feeling obliterating everything.

  I pulled her up so we were both upright, then skimmed my fingers under her shirt, down her ribs, and over the soft curve of her waist. Pressure built, and my magic uncoiled like an animal waking from sleep. Mare pulled the shoulder of my shirt aside and pressed her mouth into the soft hollow above my collarbone, teasing me with her teeth. My arms tingled and sparked, and a rushing sound filled my ears.

  The lights in the room flickered all at once and then burst in a storm of shattering glass.

  Mare and I jerked apart. The light from the hearth was all that remained.

  “Ouch,” Mare said, standing up and brushing a few shards of glass off her pants. “I think a piece of glass might have gotten me.”

  “Oh gods.” I scrambled to my feet. “Let me look and see.”

  “No, wait—first, what in the Sixth Hell just happened?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, but the way my magic felt quiet again made my stomach sink.

  She stood up, wincing and putting a hand to her side. “Did you feel anything magical happen? Do you think the peaceroot is losing its effectiveness?”

  I hung my head. “I didn’t take it tonight.”

  “Denna.” Her eyes grew large and worried. “Why?”

  “The headaches were getting bad. It’s been nearly a week. We’re finally in Kartasha. . . . I just thought . . .” I trailed off, not sure how to explain to her how much I needed to feel like myself again when everything else about my life had changed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice softer. “Do you think your magic was the cause of this?”

  “I wasn’t trying to use it just now, but I felt some sort of energy, and then everything exploded.” Guilt weighed me down. If it wasn’t me, what else could it have been? It figured that before my powers were even fully back, they’d already be out of control.

  Then Mare smiled a little. “Honestly, if you hadn’t felt anything while we were kissing like that, I’d be worried.”

  “What if I blow out the lights every time we . . . do something?” And what if I did something worse? Mare had no way to protect herself from my magic. If I hadn’t fallen so selfishly in love with her, she could have had a normal life with someone who didn’t have uncontrollable magic. I felt guilty for stealing that future from her.

  “That seems unlikely,” Mare said, pressing another quick kiss to my lips. “It never happened before.”

  Her words comforted me in spite of my misgivings. Maybe she could have a normal life with someone else, but I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I went to put my arms around her waist, but she flinched.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Whatever got me in the side hurts.”

  “We need to find better light so I can take a look,” I said.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice said from the other side of the door.

  We stood up, stumbling in the near dark and smoothing our clothing back into some appearance of normalcy.

  “Come in,” Mare called.

  The building attendant appeared in the doorway. She carried a lantern that cast long shadows, accentuating her narrow features and deep-set eyes. “Everyone all right in here?”

  “Yes, we’re all right,” Mare answered.

  I hung back in the shadows, playing the part of demure maid.

  “The lights have failed in the building,” the attendant said. “Please don’t leave this floor until we find the source of the problem. Take this lantern to see by for now. And mind the glass.”

  “Is this unusual?” Mare asked. “Should we be concerned?”

  “No, no, we’ll get to the bottom of it quickly,” the woman said. “We’ve called for Guardian Laurenna. She’ll be here as soon as she can.”

  “Do guardians usually come by to investigate blown-out lights?” Mare asked incredulously.

  The attendant nodded vigorously. “Guardian Laurenna’s water Affinity allows her to trace magical disturbances back to their source.”

  I swallowed hard. This was my fault, and Mare was going to end up suffering for it. My magic was most likely the source of the problem, and no doubt it would take Laurenna only moments to figure that out.

  As soon as the attendant left, my worries came flooding out. “Oh gods, I’m going to ruin everything for you,” I said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “No, you won’t,” Mare said. “I did a fine enough job of ruining this evening already.”

  I wrung my hands, not convinced. Political missteps were one thing. Blowing out the infrastructure of a building with magic was entirely another.

  “Can you take a look at my side?” Mare lifted her shirt just above her waist.

  I picked up the lantern and held it aloft, then nearly dropped it when I saw Mare’s waist.

  “What is it?” she asked, frowning and craning her neck to try to see around the fabric. She pulled her shirt farther to the side, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the vanity. I knew the moment she saw what I had, because she froze in place.

  Blisters were rising on her skin in the shape of a small red handprint.

  I backed away from her, the lantern light cast on her injury dimming as I retreated. “I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice shaking. But it was so much more than that. My every fear had just come to fruition, and after only one missed dose of peaceroot. For the first time, I wondered if the Mynarians were right—maybe I was too dangerous to live.

  “It’s not your fault,” Mare said, dropping her shirt and stepping closer.

  I shied away again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” She caught my hand and held it. “I’ll be fine. It’s like a little sunburn.” She kept her tone light, but I could see in her eyes that she was trying to mask the pain.

  “You need a medic,” I said frantically. The lantern rocked in my hand as I turned quickly toward the door. There had to be something I could do to help her, even if it was never enough to atone for the damage I’d done.

  “No, I’m all right.” Mare caught my arm to stop me. “The attendant told us not to leave. She’ll be back any moment with Laurenna.”

  As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door.

  “Permission to enter?” the attendant’s voice said tentatively from the hall.

  Mare opened the door while I retreated and
tried to gather my shattered nerves. Beside the building attendant stood a tall, middle-aged woman. The attendant’s lantern cast a cold glow on the sharp angles of her nose and jaw. Ash-brown hair streaked with gray hung straight to just above her shoulders, and her dark eyes were already scrutinizing us. Sensible gray trousers and a pale blue shirt that crisscrossed in the front hugged her lean frame, her outfit surprising me with its simplicity. Her expression was sharp and unreadable, while the attendant looked as though she were about to have a nervous episode of some kind.

  “Please be welcome,” Mare said, then introduced us both and gestured for them to enter.

  The attendant, seeming to remember that she should introduce Laurenna, said, “I present to you Guardian Laurenna, born of Kartasha, final apprentice of legendary Guardian Nalon, and most powerful water user of the—”

  “Enough.” Laurenna cut off the attendant and strode into the room, stepping over to examine one of the shattered lights.

  To my surprise, a girl about twelve or thirteen years old followed on Laurenna’s heels, wearing a mischievous expression that suggested she was nothing but trouble. In spite of her rounder face, curly hair, and darker complexion, there was no mistaking that the girl’s eyes and high cheekbones mirrored Laurenna’s. A pendant shaped like a seven-pointed star glittered around her neck.

  “I’m Fadeyka,” she said, and extended her hand to Mare the way I’d seen many Zumordans greet each other.

  Mare introduced herself.

  “Oh, are you the princess from Mynaria?” Fadeyka’s expression grew abruptly cunning. “Do you know how to ride?”

  “Faye, that’s enough,” Laurenna said, glancing back at her daughter.

  Fadeyka pouted, then rolled her eyes once Laurenna’s back was turned.

  “It appears there was a magical surge in the building that destabilized the enchanted lights. And it seems to have originated in this room.” She looked curiously at me and came a few paces closer. “May I touch your hand?” she asked.

  “Of course, my lady,” I said, even as a tingle of fear crept down the back of my neck.

  Laurenna gently took my hand the way she might have if she’d been planning to raise it to her lips for a kiss, but instead pressed her thumb on my knuckles. Sharp tingles raced through my arm, as if my magic were being tugged toward my fingertips.

  “Oh!” I gasped, pulling away and taking a step back. My arm still smarted, and I felt telltale warmth blooming in my palm. I clenched my fist tightly and forced the magic away.

  “Well,” Laurenna said, her gaze frightfully keen. “That question is answered. Lia, you are much more than you seem.”

  Goose bumps rose on my skin. I stared at the floor, wishing I could disappear and frightened of what she’d sensed.

  “How can you tell that by touching her?” Mare asked, her expression frightened.

  “Some of us have strong Sight, and some have other ways of seeing magic,” Laurenna said. “My ability to sense magic works best when I am close enough to feel the movement of a person’s blood, and it is not bound by the limitations of Sight.”

  Mare’s expression clearly showed that she was sorry to have asked. Guilt washed over me again. All this was my fault. I’d broken things. I’d scared Mare. I’d brought Laurenna to us under all the wrong circumstances.

  “I’ll need to question your maidservant,” Laurenna said to Mare.

  A chill ran through me.

  “Of course,” Mare agreed, casting a worried look at me.

  “The mage lights are easy enough to replace, but we need to confirm that the power in this area is stable and that the source is identified,” Laurenna said. “Lia, you’ll come with me. And Princess Amaranthine, you are welcome to rest in my study while we clean up and investigate further.”

  “Thank you, Guardian,” Mare said.

  “Take Princess Amaranthine to the study.” Laurenna gestured to the building attendant, who looked relieved to have a task and somewhere else to be. “Fadeyka, you go with them.”

  The girl looked back and forth between us and her mother, seemingly torn between wanting to know more about what the magical problem in the building was and wanting to pepper Mare with more questions about horses and gods knew what else.

  My fear rose at the thought of being separated from Mare. I hadn’t even had a chance to attend to her injury, and I didn’t know what kind of coercion techniques they might use on me to get me to talk about my history and my magic.

  For Mare’s sake, all I could do was try to stay strong and make sure she came out of this looking better than I did.

  NINE

  Amaranthine

  I FOLLOWED THE ATTENDANT THROUGH SEVERAL PASSAGES and across a second-story outdoor bridge into an adjacent building. With every step, the handprint on my waist burned, but I didn’t dare say anything. Honestly, I didn’t even want to think about it. I couldn’t bear the idea of Denna feeling guilty over accidentally hurting me any more than I could hide how much it frightened me that she had. Eventually we arrived at a room lined from floor to ceiling with books, most of which seemed to be about natural history and agriculture. Fadeyka immediately darted over to the shelves.

  “Please stay here until we return for you,” the building attendant said.

  “We will,” I reassured her, and she dashed off to her next task, which was probably to continue hovering around Laurenna.

  I turned to find somewhere to sit, only to see Fadeyka clinging precariously to a bookshelf several feet above the floor.

  “Six Hells, what are you doing?” Letting a guardian’s daughter fall and crack her head open didn’t seem likely to help me earn good standing at the Winter Court. I dashed over to where Fadeyka was and held up my arms to catch her. The pain in my side flared in protest, and I bit back a cry. She ignored my question, continuing to rummage around behind the books, the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration.

  “Got them,” she finally said. “Here, catch.” She tossed a bag down to me that I barely managed to grab before it hit the floor. Seconds later she had both feet on the ground and took it back.

  “What is that?” I asked, my heart rate finally slowing now that she was safely back on the ground.

  “Cookies,” she said matter-of-factly. “The court cook gave them to me. Want one?” She pulled out an oddly shaped cookie that looked more like a narrow piece of toast filled with nuts and shoved it into her mouth. The crunching was loud enough to spook a dead horse back to life.

  “All right,” I said, taking the cookie she offered and holding it to my nose to sniff. It had a sharp smell, both earthy and herbal.

  “It’s anise,” Fadeyka explained around a mouthful of cookie, then shoved a second one into her mouth before she’d finished swallowing the last of the first.

  I bit into it, surprised when it didn’t just crunch but actually shattered between my teeth. It was like no cookie I’d ever tasted—nuttier, more brittle, and ending with a burst of flavor that stopped me cold. I gagged.

  “What in the Sixth Hell is that horrific taste?” I asked.

  “Maybe the anise?” Fadeyka continued to crunch happily.

  “It . . . it tastes like death. Like sadness. Like something that in any other form would have the texture of a deceased bat.” I wanted to spit the rest of the cookie into one of the ornamental pots and scrape my tongue.

  Fadeyka giggled. “More for me!” She held out her hand for the rest of my cookie.

  “Gods. I wouldn’t even feed that to my horse,” I said. At least the flavor had been foul enough to provide a temporary distraction from my burning side.

  Fadeyka stopped chewing abruptly. “Does that Mynarian war steed in the visitors’ stables belong to you?”

  “Yes. That’s Flicker,” I said, still grimacing over the foul taste of Fadeyka’s “cookie.”

  Fadeyka’s eyes got big as saucers. “Can you teach me how to ride like a Mynarian warrior?” she asked. “Mother hasn’t let me learn. She says rid
ing’s only useful in southern Zumorda, and she expects me to go to Corovja for my studies when I’m older.”

  “Maybe it’s not that useful in Corovja, but what if you want to go somewhere else?” I asked.

  “Exactly!” Fadeyka bounced on her toes. “I need to know how to do everything. I want to learn to ride.” She said it with the confidence of someone who hadn’t yet found many things she couldn’t do.

  Nostalgia swept through me. I used to give riding lessons back in Mynaria. If not for that, Denna and I never would have become friends, or lovers.

  “Will your mother allow it?” I asked.

  Fadeyka snorted. “She doesn’t care what I do as long as I do well at my studies.”

  “And do you do well at your studies?” I asked.

  “Obviously,” she said, with a roll of her eyes, then launched into a monologue about some book she was currently reading as part of her geography lessons. It involved a bunch of incomprehensible nonsense about alpine farming techniques that made my eyes cross almost immediately. I slumped into a chair and let Fadeyka continue to talk my ear off. She didn’t require much prompting—just the occasional nod or grunt of acknowledgment.

  “. . . it’s just maddening that I’m not even allowed to study magic yet beyond the basics, and now it’s pointless to ask for anything else because Mother is so grumpy thanks to Alek showing up.” Fadeyka paused to crunch on another cookie.

  I sat up straighter. “I heard your mother and Alek don’t get along. Do you know why?” I could think of plenty of reasons not to like Alek, but there seemed to be some particularly bitter history between him and Laurenna that I might be able to find a use for—especially if it was somehow tied to why the Sonnenbornes had been so friendly to him.

  “Well, according to my mother, he was too weak to make the hard choices required to finish guardian training,” Fadeyka said.

  “As in, his magic was too weak?” I asked.

  “No, the opposite.” Fadeyka set down the cookie bag and flopped onto a nearby chaise, putting her boots up on the arm in a way I had a feeling her mother wouldn’t like. “Alek’s weakness was that as an apprentice, he initially refused to use his gift on behalf of his kingdom when his mentor asked him to. Not long after that, he broke his apprenticeship. No one does that, especially not someone who’s training to be a guardian.”