Blue Fire

by Amity Thompson

  In response, I stared at a trio of women, sparkles at their ears and throats, their hair woven around their heads.

  “Hey.” Shamino touched my jaw and gently turned my head away. His fingertips were rough, like mine, and warm. “Yes, they’re showing off their wealth, but you’re showing off Adara. And Adara is beautiful, with a heart that outshines any duchess’s.”

  “I…” Melting. I was melting and blushing, and Shamino was touching my face—

  He dropped his hand and nodded to the right. I wrenched my gaze from him to where he indicated. Some women laughed together, and all of them wore breeches, their hair down. “The theater is about relaxing. Most dress nice, and while some use it to brag, the point is to enjoy yourself.”

  “They’re commoners.” I recognized them from the dining hall. One spotted me and waved. Now that I didn’t sit with Tressa, I’d risked some conversations with ‘lesser’ people.

  Shamino smiled as I waved back. “Anyone is welcome, as long as they can afford the tickets. Speaking of which, I’ll be right back.”

  He left my side. I leaned against the wall. Now that Shamino had opened my eyes, I saw that he was right. I wasn’t obviously out of place. With most of the Dragon Mages gone, most of the attendees were commoners, and they dressed reasonably. And yet… of the nobles, the elderly and the Dragon Mage spouses, I was the only one not wearing jewels. Even Shamino, tonight, wore a simple ring with an emerald so dark it matched Raul.

  I haven’t had the gem vision since Thorkel gave me the sapphire.

  Shamino returned carrying two sticks of wood with numbers burned into the surface. “We better find our seats. Since I got our tickets last minute, we have to climb some stairs to the balcony.”

  The rest of the room was breaking up as well. I gripped Shamino’s arm as he wove us through the swirling mass of people.

  “… it can’t be…”

  “Well, I never thought—”

  “Who is she? She’s young. New?”

  “… be a dragon in female form, to capture our Seneschal’s heart…”

  Beside Tressa, I’d been invisible. Beside Shamino, I was Tressa.

  They think we’re courting. He had to know this would happen.

  Shamino’s arm had turned rock-hard with tension. If he was uncomfortable with the gossip, then it must have been because he didn’t like it.

  He called me beautiful.

  Because you were acting like an addled donkey.

  We broke free of the crowd and went up the steps. He led me to two armless wooden seats behind the rail. I could lean over and see the people below—a sea of movement and color.

  “I’m sorry we’re so high up,” Shamino said. “And with uncomfortable seats.”

  “No, it’s glorious. We can see everything.” I leaned back and our arms touched. A strange, fluttery feeling ripped through me. I began to lean to the left, but a middle-aged man took the seat next to me. I pressed against Shamino once more and tried not to blush at the growing flutters.

  “I’m not sure I can manage a Gaze spell…” Shamino frowned at the black curtains below.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Sometimes it’s okay to be normal. We can watch the play with perfectly unmagicked eyes.”

  A small smile and a ‘hmph.’ “That’s what I like about you. You see the world differently. ‘Normal’ means without magic. Father would die if he heard you.”

  Differently. Of course I did. “Do you not get along at all with your father?”

  “No.” By the clipped way he said it, the topic was over.

  Almost all the seats had filled. Lights over the audience began to wink out. One vanished, then a pause, and another winked out. Excitement bubbled higher in my chest with each extinguished Light. The play would start soon.

  “Mother used to take me,” Shamino suddenly said. “Father thinks the theater a waste of time and money, but Mother took me to every performance in Dragonsridge. Rogan wanted to please Father, and Emory didn’t care for it.”

  “Emory?”

  “Younger brother,” Shamino said. “It’s starting.”

  Massive black-velvet curtains parted. Within moments, I realized why the nobles loved the theater so. For a short time, you lost yourself in another person’s problems. I didn’t know if the actors were good, or the story, but it seemed wonderful to me. An Illusionist must have done the scenery, it was so lifelike and beautiful. Even those on the balcony could smell the food and feel the breeze.

  We watched as Ian, an awkward young man, decided that the best way to understand a woman’s heart was to pretend to be a woman himself. He became a lady-in-waiting to Clarisse, the daughter of a duke. I laughed until I cried at the awkward situations ‘Iana’ stumbled into. Then I sobered as Clarisse told her dearest friend of her love for the prince. In that moment, Iana realized his love for Clarisse.

  The curtains closed.

  “What? It’s over?” I grabbed the railing, and the man sitting next to me stood and walked away. “Oh! I’m sorry—”

  Shamino put a hand on my arm so I wouldn’t run after the man. “It’s intermission.” At my confused look, he repeated with a mostly suppressed smile, “Intermission. A break. The play isn’t over yet.”

  “… Oh.” I sank into my seat.

  “I can tell you’re enjoying the story. What do you think of…” Gradually Shamino eased me into talking about the play. My embarrassment lessened as we relived the hilarious parts of the story. All around, people stood, walked, chatted. Yet somehow Shamino and I sat apart in our own little place. I’m sure they whispered, I’m sure they stared, but somehow, I didn’t notice or care.

  “Do you think Ian should tell her?” Shamino asked.

  I bit my lip. I wanted to say yes, but how could he? “Ian has her friendship. And love, in a way.”

  Deep green eyes met mine. Green eyes that matched my dress. I wondered if that had been why I’d wanted it so.

  Shamino spoke, and I could hear his carefulness. “Think of what they could have instead.”

  I focused on the closed curtain. “She may never forgive him. You know. For deceiving her.”

  Silence. People began to return to their seats. Then Shamino whispered, “Ian should take the risk. Clarisse’s love is worth it.”

  No. First One, no.

  The theater grew dimmer. I willed the curtains to open, begged the play to take us away from my life where love was impossible.

  The last Light winked out.

  Curtains parted.

  I sighed in relief. I was safe. Iana stepped onto the stage, I could focus on her problems and not my own for a little longer and—

  Shamino’s hand slid into mine.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My heart stopped. Below, Iana began lamenting her plight, but I didn’t hear. All my senses focused on Shamino’s hand: its warmth, the way his fingers fell into mine like perfection. Then, slowly, my heart began to beat again:

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  “I can’t,” I said in a strangled whisper.

  Shamino tightened his grip.

  Make it through the rest of the performance. Honestly, did I want him to let go? For another Sphere, I could pretend. I could live a romantic story as I watched one, and then…

  Then I’d break his heart.

  And mine.

  In the play, Iana accidentally caught the prince’s eye. One morning, as Clarisse searched behind a sofa for a dropped needle, the prince entered the room with Iana and declared undying love to the dismayed lady-in-waiting. Clarisse stood and accused Iana of betraying her trust. Iana tried to explain, but Clarisse only grew more upset. As Iana turned to flee, Clarisse stepped on her skirts and fabric ripped. The audience laughed at the revealing of Iana’s true gender. A betrayed Clarisse fled as the prince made crude jokes, and my heart bled for poor Ian.

  “See,” I whispered. “It’s over. Ian doesn’t even have her friendship.”

  Shamino care
ssed the back of my hand with his thumb.

  Ian returned home in disgrace and depression. Days passed. A servant boy asked the reason for his master’s melancholy, and Ian told him about his grave mistakes. Ian vowed never to love another, for no woman could match Clarisse’s beauty and spirit. The servant boy sprang forward and kissed him. As Ian cried out, the servant removed his cap. Long, golden hair cascaded down her back, and Clarisse made a vow of love.

  Lights flared, and the audience roared with applause. The fantasy had ended.

  “It worked, in the end,” Shamino said quietly. We sat as everyone stood. He released my hand. It ached with the sudden emptiness, but I flicked my sleeve to hide it.

  I couldn’t look at him. All I wanted to do was cry.

  The training of the past few weeks kicked in, and as we left, I wore my mask of ‘normal’ as best I could. Gossip surrounded us, but it only buzzed unintelligibly like bees. Then we broke free. The stone hallways felt chill after the crowded theater, but Shamino felt as hot as a dragon beside me.

  The Transportation spell whisked us along in silence. Too soon we stopped at my door, completely alone except for the occasional blur of someone passing by. I tried to release his arm, but he held my hand in place.

  “Adara…” I felt him studying me as I stared at his hand on mine. “You said, ‘I can’t.’ What do you mean?”

  “I just—just can’t.” It sounded like a straightforward enough response.

  He took a deep breath. With a tone of dismayed certainty, he declared, “Because of who I am.”

  I looked up in confusion. “Because you’re the Seneschal?”

  Surprise, then a spark of hope. “No. I meant my family.”

  Everything I knew about him floated to the surface. Dragonsridge, highborn, high enough for his older brother to be betrothed to Tressa. Rogan’s death, inheritance gained, inheritance lost. I didn’t know Shamino’s house. It didn’t matter. He could have been as lowborn and poor as Paige and it wouldn’t work.

  “It’s not you,” I said. “It’s me. All me.”

  “Because you’re adopted? Adara, blood doesn’t matter to me.” He freed my hand only to cradle my cheek. “Your past, my past, I don’t care. I—I want the future.” He swallowed. “With you.”

  I closed my eyes. His thumb caressed my cheek and his arm slipped around my waist. I remembered Shamino’s laughter, and I remembered his tears at the dragons’ deaths. I remembered him sweaty and dirty as he worked, an expression of satisfaction on his face.

  When I opened my eyes, his were inches from mine. He was leaning forward—

  “I can’t,” I said. I shoved him away and stepped back.

  He stood with his arms open. The pain on his face was akin to when a dragon died, except worse.

  “I’m so sorry, I just—” If I repeated that phrase again, I’d slap myself. I hugged my chest. “Really, it’s not you, it’s complicated—”

  “Someone else?” he choked out.

  “What? No! No, you’re everything—” I clamped my mouth shut. I couldn’t let him keep that hope.

  He scraped the floor with his toe, ran a hand through his hair. He stepped forward, and when I stepped away again, he held up his hands. “Tell me one thing.”

  I waited with dread.

  “Adara, look. Me. In. The. Eye.” I wrenched my gaze upward, and the hope and fear I saw in his face made me ill. “If it weren’t for this ‘complication,’ would you have let me kiss you goodnight?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. My treacherous face told him that yes, I had very much wanted that kiss.

  Shamino blew out a slow breath. “Good. I’ll wait for you.”

  He turned to leave. I lunged and barely grabbed his arm in time. “No. Shamino, don’t—my problems are not going to go away. Ever.”

  “Your magic? That’s what’s wrong? I don’t care if you never light a candle—”

  “Shamino, please,” I begged. I wanted to tell him; shouldn’t I tell him? If anyone understood, it’d be the man whom the dragons chose because he wasn’t like the other nobles…

  I hate lies, he’d told me the day Merram had assigned me to the Dragon Quarters. Shamino had meant it. What was our everything, if not based on lies?

  When I didn’t continue, Shamino’s expression turned scarily similar to the one he wore around Maolmuire: grim and determined. Quick as lightning, he leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I thought I’d never care about anyone again, and then Merram forced you into my life. Now he’s threatening to take you away, and I just couldn’t—Adara, you are more amazing than any woman I have ever met, and I think your love is worth it. So. I’ll wait.”

  With that, he kissed my cheek and the Transportation spell took him away.

  I burst into my rooms, rushing through them without seeing. The pain in Shamino’s eyes before he left—the pain in my heart—I wanted, but I couldn’t see a way…

  The wardrobe. I’d wandered blindly through my rooms and ended up in front of my wardrobe.

  My hand trembled as I opened the door and pulled out a boot.

  Thorkel promised me magic. With a Gift, I could stay at the Kyer. I could stay with Shamino. Courtship would always be impossible, but the point was, I would stay. I’d bond. I’d have a chance to confront Merram, and maybe by some miracle his words would…

  Hope faltered. Solve one problem first. Everything hinges on the magic. Nothing is possible without it.

  I emptied the boot and took the contents to my bedroom, the deepest part of my apartment. Cross-legged on my quilt, I smoothed open the instructions.

  Without focus, magic ripples outward like rings in a pool. Most spells will not work in such circumstances, and those that do are highly inefficient. For example, your manifestation. According to reports, Fire appeared not in a centralized location but dispersed, and most of the damage to the hut occurred after the spell transitioned to normal flame. I believe the reason you ‘manifested’ was because of your Gift’s strength: Enough magic managed to collect in one location for a noticeable effect.

  A noble’s manifestation, however, always occurs in one location. A noble instantly learns the feel of magic, and he can cast spells at will thereafter. This is because a noble possesses that which you do not: jewelry.

  I’d never seen a noble without a bracelet or a ring or a necklace—even the men wore rings. In fact, the only man I’d seen regularly without one was Shamino. But at sixteen, as the heir, he would have been wearing a signet ring when he healed his first dragon.

  A coming of age gift at thirteen is often a necklace or a ring. By manifestation, the item is commonplace and sure to be nearby—if not during the manifestation itself, during an early lesson. The structure of a gemstone collects magic—just for a brief instant—but an instant is the chance a noble needs to learn the feel of power outside her body.

  Think. Where has your teacher told you to focus your magic? In your hands? At your chest? Perhaps near your head? This method does not work for you because not enough Gift is amassing for you to sense. I promise, after a single analysis of your Gift, you will forever notice even the smallest speck of your magic outside your body.

  Put on the sapphire. Gather your Gift to your heart. Observe, and cast.

  I fastened the necklace around my neck and searched the room. In the corner, I found an outfit too full of holes to be of much use. I took it to the bathroom and tossed it into the tub.

  My stomach churned with nerves and emotion. In a few minutes, I could be a blue mage. An honest, powerful, blue mage worthy of… I needed not to think of Shamino, but of the Kyer’s lake, calm and deep. As I slipped into serenity, my Gift swelled inside. I willed it to rise. I willed it out to the sapphire.

  I gasped. A mirror hung above the tub. In it, I saw only myself wearing a necklace, but in my mind, I sensed just outside my chest a glow, or a light, or an energy. I couldn’t explain it. No one had ever been able to explain it to me, and I couldn’t put it into words now
, but First One, I feel it!

  The power had seeped away as I marveled, but I renewed it. The second I felt it outside my body again, I breathed out, visualizing the power rushing from the sapphire to my clothes. In my mind’s eye, I saw it arc. Imagination and reality combined as flame, intense and instant, lashing hot as dragonfire.

  Incineration.

  With a flash of blinding blue-white, the clothing turned to ash.

  “I did it,” I breathed. Incineration. The last spell in my Fire text. Frantically, I unclasped the sapphire and tossed it out of the room. I raised a hand and formed the image I had created over and over thousands of times.

  Innocent blue flames swirled in a globe as if I’d been casting Light for weeks.

  I sank to the tile, dizzy with euphoria. Dizzy with possibilities. I was a mage. A blue mage. All it had taken was a gem—

  And the words of my enemy.

  I gathered myself from the floor and found the sapphire where I’d tossed it in the bedroom. Once more I climbed upon the bed, and I finished reading Thorkel’s words.

  True brilliance lies in noticing the ordinary. All those nobles, overlooking the greatest tools on their very hands. Gemstones, you see, do not merely collect power. I’ll let your intelligence and imagination pursue that tidbit of knowledge.

  This should demonstrate my goodwill. You may thank me, in person, after you bond.

  “‘Do not merely collect power’…” I murmured. I held up the chain so the stone glittered. Shards of light danced on the walls, reminiscent of a sickroom’s dancing rainbows. Rainbows created by…

  Crystals. They split light. Made tiny rainbows. But that wasn’t all they could do. Crystals could make light brighter by focusing it, concentrating it to a pinpoint and using every scrap…

  An Illusion spell large enough to hide not one, but many, dragons.

  Thorkel, a mere red, could best any mage.