But why? Why wouldn’t they have removed any physical sign of connection to gods they didn’t worship? And why did so many Zumordans come to the High Adytum in Havemont every summer to do their magical workings if they had a temple here that could be equally grand if they restored it? My parents had always told me the Zumordans traveled to Spire City because the High Adytum had special properties that made it a powerful place to work magic. But in a kingdom where magic ruled and the gods were no longer worshipped, why not rebuild their old temple for the same purpose instead of traveling all the way to our kingdom? Rebuilding it would have solved so many of the tensions among Zumorda, Havemont, and Mynaria. Mynarians didn’t like Havemontians allowing Zumordans to visit the High Adytum, since the Zumordans would then in theory be able to cross into Mynaria from the Havemont side with less trouble—at least if they managed to pass themselves off as Havemontian. If Zumordans had their own temple, they could pilgrimage to Corovja instead of Spire City.
But there had to be a reason the queen hadn’t had it restored. What was it?
I stood up and brushed the dust from my clothes. My powers had always felt calmer in sacred spaces. Perhaps it was that I’d been raised with the ritual and comfort of religion rather than a belief only in the power of myself and my magic. I wanted to test and see if the ruins of the Grand Temple provided me the control I couldn’t seem to find elsewhere, and I wanted to look for evidence of the strange seven-pointed star symbol I’d seen in the religious texts. There was still time to get down there before the day’s lessons if I hurried.
Back at my room, I bundled up heavily and then slipped out through a side door I’d noticed the servants using. The maze of the castle gardens didn’t take too long to navigate, and soon I was crossing the long bridge over to the temple. I stopped as soon as I passed through the broken sides of the wall. Instantly after crossing the threshold, I felt a little calmer. It didn’t have the same feel as being inside the High Adytum, but there was something familiar about it nonetheless. I exhaled deeply and sketched the symbol of the fire god, and was rewarded with a soothing heat that spread through my body like warm honey. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine I was home in Havemont, where my magic had never felt so wild or dangerous and where I’d known exactly what my path forward in life was.
“Mind the edge. It’s crumbling,” a voice said beside me.
I jumped, barely stifling a scream.
Tristan sat slumped just inside one of the walls of the ruin, his dark clothes making him stand out like a raven against the snow.
“Six Hells, you startled me,” I said.
“Sorry,” he said. “It happens a lot.” He stood up, brushing the snow from his backside. He ran a hand through the dark shoulder-length waves of his hair.
“I didn’t know this was your place. I can leave,” I said.
He laughed. “It’s as much mine as the sky or the snow. Spend all the time you want.”
I eyed him mistrustfully.
“I’m not going to push you off the edge or anything,” he said.
“That would be one way to get an advantage for the Revel,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my tone.
“Is that what you were trying to do on the first day of training when you nearly incinerated the place?” He looked more amused than upset about it.
“Of course not,” I said. “And so you know, all I want is to learn to control my magic. I don’t care about winning competitions or putting on shows. I didn’t sign up for the Revel. I didn’t even know it was happening. I thought this was going to be an opportunity to learn from each other, to study.”
“Huh. Evie said she thought you were different. I guess she was right.”
“Not Zumordan, no manifest, no idea what’s happening here,” I said. Exhaustion had done some serious damage to my diplomacy skills.
“That’s not what I meant,” Tristan said. “Besides, I’m not Zumordan, either.”
“You’re not?” I looked at him more critically. He spoke perfect Zumordan, and his Tradespeech was just as good. “Then where are you from?”
“Havemont,” he said. “Just across the border. It’s rather ironic that I had to journey all the way to Kartasha only to end up this close to home in the end.”
My heart skipped a beat. He was from my homeland, and for some reason, knowing that made a pang of longing for my family grip me.
“I thought everyone here was Zumordan.”
“Maybe by blood if not homeland,” Tristan said. “Ikrie’s the only one originally from Corovja, though—her parents are nobles. I’m pretty sure Aela’s family runs a cartel of some kind out of Kartasha. She’s awfully cagey about what it is they actually do.”
“Your Zumordan is quite good,” I said. “How did you learn?”
“Hard to avoid it living in a border town. Besides, my parents are Zumordan, so we spoke it at home.” He shrugged.
“And they taught you to use your Affinity?” I asked.
He nodded. “What happened with yours?”
“My parents didn’t know anything of magic,” I said. He didn’t need to know that I’d spent most of my life training to become a queen, or that I’d been betrothed to a prince whose kingdom reviled magic. Those pieces of my history were so distant now that they felt as if they belonged to someone else—certainly not to Lia, the innocent servant girl from Mynaria.
“Ah. That must have been difficult,” he said.
He had no idea.
I paced around the half-moon of remaining floor, staying clear of the edge that plunged to the valley below. Tristan followed me, quiet as a shadow. Curious, I kicked away the snow and dug in with the toe of my boot until I found patterned tile underneath. It was worn and faded from years of exposure to the elements, but the red was unmistakable. Farther along were spans of tile in blue, white, black, yellow, and green. The order of the colors was different from those in the High Adytum, but they were the same as those of the gods we worshipped. I looked for any sign of the seven-pointed star I’d seen in the library books, but there was nothing of the kind left in the ruins. The only unexplained design elements in the ruins were the silvery threads of mirror woven amidst the other colors to tie everything together. The books had speculated that the symbol represented the gods working together. Maybe the mirrors formed a larger pattern I couldn’t see because of all the snow.
“The gods must have once been worshipped here,” I mused. I’d thought I would come to Zumorda to find answers, but instead, I was finding only more questions. “But when did the people of Zumorda stop?”
“When the dragon queen took her throne,” Tristan answered.
I looked up, startled. The question had been rhetorical—I hadn’t expected an answer.
“What do you know about it?” I asked.
“My mother told me the story.” He smiled a little, as though at a fond memory.
“So how did the start of the queen’s reign affect the worship of the gods?” I asked. “I thought the throne was always taken the same way, through combat.” I started walking back toward the bridge to the castle, moving to stay warm. Even with the calming presence the ruins seemed to provide, I didn’t trust myself to use my magic again with another person nearby.
“It is, and that hasn’t changed,” Tristan said. “What changed was the distribution of power. Before the dragon queen’s rise to the throne, the monarch was the only person in Zumorda capable of using magic. That magic was granted to the monarch through a bond with the gods. Common people could still take manifests, but it was done by aligning oneself with a god and performing a bonding ritual rather than the blood ritual that is most commonly used now.”
“Is the blood ritual how you gained your manifest?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t overstepping with the question.
“No, my mother showed me a more passive way to do it,” he said. “When the queen took her manifest, she did it through a blood rite and therefore had no bond to a god. She broke the rules and gain
ed her own magic in the process. So when she challenged the boar king for his throne and won, the gods deserted Zumorda.”
“If the gods were the source of magic and they deserted Zumorda, why didn’t it become a wasteland like Sonnenborne?” I asked.
Tristan shrugged. “Because the magic is in the people, I suppose.”
“Why is Sonnenborne the way it is?” I wondered. I’d never thought to ask the question before, but Tristan’s story had my mind racing at top speed. Had they once angered the gods, too? Was that what had brought about the fractures between all our kingdoms?
“I don’t know much about Sonnenborne,” Tristan said.
“No one really does.” For the first time, I realized Sonnenborne was in many ways even more mysterious than Zumorda. No one really went there, but why would they, when it was no more than a wasteland? An even larger question loomed in my mind now. If the gods had something to do with Sonnenborne becoming a desert, did that mean there was a way to restore the kingdom? And if we could do so, might it stop them from attacking us?
SEVENTEEN
Amaranthine
WITH THE NEW INSIGHT I HAD GAINED FROM KERRICK, Shazi, and Harian, over the next week I turned my focus to finding out more about the disappearances of magic users. I hoped it might give me some indication of what the Sonnenbornes were truly plotting and why they’d abducted the children in Duvey. It didn’t hurt that this would also provide an excellent opportunity to one-up Alek if I could get to the information before he did. The easiest way to do that was of course to start with the last person he’d ever deign to talk to—Laurenna. The only downside was having to attend a court function, because trying to get a proper audience would have taken days. I talked myself into it grudgingly, reminding myself that it was the best way to get the information I needed, and that it was far past time I stopped shirking my duties to my brother and Mynaria.
I chose an unassuming luncheon—a celebration meant to honor a prominent Kartashan horse trader. At least horses were one thing I knew something about, and therefore it wouldn’t seem suspicious for me to attend. It also meant the gathering was small and there were several Sonnenbornes in attendance, including Eronit and Varian.
To my surprise, the luncheon was held out on an open balcony high in the Winter Court’s tower. I expected it to be cold, but the temperature didn’t change as I stepped outside. When I looked more closely, I could see a faint, shimmering barrier between the balcony and the outside air, and that was what made me shiver. Magic everywhere, as usual. Buffet tables laden with heavy platters of food overlooked the city, and servants moved purposefully through the room with additional trays of small bites to tempt the guests.
I reached for a wafer smeared with cheese and topped with thin-sliced pickled vegetables, and was surprised when a familiar pair of brown eyes appeared on the other side of the servant’s tray.
“What are you doing here?” Fadeyka asked.
“I got hungry,” I said, popping the bite into my mouth. The crunch of the vegetables and crispness of the cracker were the perfect contrast to the creamy cheese. As much as I hated making small talk and being surrounded by toadying, I had to admit I’d missed the food that came along with life in court.
“Then make sure to get some pears before they’re gone. The custard is brandied.” Fadeyka pointed to a platter on one of the tables. Halved pears with rich purple skin glistened atop pastry shells made of countless layers. Tiny crystal pitchers sat in neat rows beside them, kept warm on some kind of magical tray.
“Isn’t that dessert?” I asked. No one else had touched the platter yet.
She smiled rather evilly. “Dessert . . . appetizer . . . it’s open to interpretation.”
“Lead on,” I said, and followed her to the pears. If someone saw me eating the wrong thing, it wouldn’t seem like a surprise that I’d broken protocol, given how little they all seemed to think of Mynarians anyway.
I cast my eyes around the room, spotting Laurenna with a flute of sparkling wine in one hand. A glacier-blue dress hugged her willowy frame, cascading down to her feet in heavy waves. As I got closer, I saw it wasn’t as simple as it appeared; impossibly small glass beads were sewn onto the fabric in intricate patterns that swirled like water when she moved.
“Your Highness,” she said as I approached. “How thoughtful of you to join us today.”
Fadeyka hid behind me, shoveling the remaining half of her pear into her mouth.
“I wouldn’t have wanted to miss the opportunity to congratulate Lord Olivieri on a successful trade season,” I said, hoping I’d gotten his name right.
Laurenna set her glass on a nearby table and smiled. “I suppose horses are always of interest to the Mynarians.” She grabbed Fadeyka by the wrist as the girl reached for a glass of sparkling wine.
“Just one,” Fadeyka said, whining.
“No,” Laurenna said firmly. “You’re not allowed to drink at parties. Besides, don’t you remember what Zhari said?”
“That I shouldn’t eat or drink anything that might interfere with my magic until we know what’s going on,” Fadeyka recited, punctuating her words with a melodramatic eye roll.
“Speaking of Zhari and young magic users,” I said, “I heard she has a program that helps find apprenticeships for those of lesser means.”
Laurenna nodded. “It’s been quite successful so far. The very enchantment that keeps us warm right now was cast by a young man discovered in the program.”
“A lot of magic users came here recently to try to get a place with the queen or to sign up for Zhari’s program, didn’t they?” I said, treading carefully. “I’ve heard rumors that some people who signed up for those programs have since vanished.”
“That seems unlikely.” Laurenna frowned, taking a small salad from a passing server and handing it to Fadeyka. “Eat your vegetables,” she told her daughter.
Fadeyka made a face, earning herself an even sterner look from her mother.
“What makes you say it’s unlikely anyone is disappearing?” I asked. They couldn’t possibly be in such denial about what was going on in their part of the kingdom.
“I didn’t say it was unlikely that people were disappearing,” Laurenna said. “It’s only unlikely that people would be disappearing who had signed up for Zhari’s program. Anyone who signs up is documented in official court records. The list is kept safe and secure with court clerks.”
“How accessible are those records?” I asked.
“Not especially,” Laurenna said. “They’re restricted to members of the court. As an ambassador, you are entitled to view them, but it’s not as if anyone can walk in off the street to look. Some of the people who sign up for the program are looking to escape dark pasts that would all too easily follow them.”
“That makes sense,” I said, the gears already turning in my mind. If the list was being used to target people, that meant that someone inside the court had to be leaking the information.
“If you talk to the records master, just don’t bring up ice fishing,” Fadeyka warned me.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you’ll die in that records room listening to him talk about it,” she said.
On the other side of the balcony, Eronit and Varian were helping themselves to soup served in tiny hollowed-out gourds. My eyes narrowed. They’d said they were scholars, but they were also serving as ambassadors of sorts, which meant they had access to the records. Given that Denna and I had seen a boy abducted by Sonnenbornes right before our eyes, it made sense that they might somehow be involved.
“Is it just a list of names, or is there personal information on the list as well?” I asked.
“Their names, ages, Affinities, and where they’re staying in town so we know how to reach them if they’re chosen,” Laurenna said. “If you know of someone specific who went missing, the clerks can check the list for their name. And please do report any such disappearances to Zhari—she’s very proud of the program and cares
very much about its success.”
In spite of the false warmth created by the enchantment on the balcony, a chill crept over me. The information Laurenna said was cataloged on the list was more than enough to find people to target for abduction.
“If the lists are kept secure, it sounds like people are just making up rumors.” I didn’t want her to know that I had any further plans to investigate or that I suspected the Sonnenbornes might be involved. It would be much better to come to her once I had evidence in hand.
“There is always a great deal of talk that goes on at court,” Laurenna acknowledged.
“As there was back home,” I said, deciding to omit the fact that as often as not, the gossip had been about me and whatever inappropriate nonsense the courtiers thought I’d been up to. Most of the time it had been only half as bad as reality. I wondered what they said about me now, or if I’d been forgotten now that I was a kingdom away. Did they remember the princess who’d spent all her time in the barn? Or had more recent scandals overwritten memories of things like the feast night before Denna’s wedding, when I’d kissed her on my way out the door, telling her it would be something to remember me by?
My heart clenched at the thought of her. That night I’d been prepared to give her up—it had been my choice, and the only path to follow, since I couldn’t bear to watch her marry my brother. But now she was gone on her terms, and I hadn’t even had a chance to talk her out of it. She hadn’t even kissed me good-bye.
“Let’s go get more food,” Fadeyka said, tugging me away from her mother and breaking my reverie. The ache stayed in my chest as she led me along the buffet. I let her help stack my plate with anything she thought I should try. Tiny fried fish with flecks of gold sparkling in the breading. Apples sliced to nearly transparent thinness, mixed with herbs and a rich, creamy sauce and delicately spiced. Saddle of venison laden with dark purple berries I didn’t recognize. A scoop of potatoes whipped with garlic and local cheese.
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