by Kaylin Lee
“But alchemy is an aberration.” Chloe’s jaw tightened. “Stealing the will and life from one person to create magic strong enough to control the will and life of another person? It’s a violation of nature.
“Since that’s not what magic does naturally … well, I wondered what the magic itself felt about alchemy, if indeed it could feel anything. If, given the choice, it would simply go along with the work of alchemy, like water flowing through a channel, or if it would oppose alchemy, like oil separating from water. And I decided it was worth the risk to find out. I didn’t know what would happen. I simply worried that if the continent was on the verge of extermination at the moment the storm was stopped, we might not ever recover.” She met my eyes, her posture slumped but her jaw stubbornly tight. “I gave it the simplest instruction I could think of—to undo the work of alchemy.”
I shivered. The party in the parlor, hallway, and street in front of our villa was loud and boisterous, but the kitchen descended into a long, thoughtful silence.
“You look like you want to say something, Bri.” Mom nudged me after several moments. “What is it?”
“Just wondering.”
“Wondering?”
“Did the magic from the eruption cross the ocean? Will it undo the work of the plague the Masters sent to the West?”
Chloe shook her head. “If Theros is the only continent to contain an excess of magic in the air, then I don’t think the eruption will go beyond our shores, Bri. I’m sorry.”
“So the West won’t be healed.”
“They’re already dead, aren’t they?” Ruby scrubbed her face. “I doubt there’s anyone left to save. It’s been almost two decades since the plague began. And it travels so easily from person to person, and they’ve had no purifier mages to remove the curse like we have.”
“I know. Just wondering, like I said.”
Ruby nodded, then took a long gulp of her chrysos and set the glass down. She raised one brow and speared Chloe with a pointed look. “That was a little bit reckless, dear friend.”
“Believe it or not, I’m actually quite averse to risk.” Chloe tossed her hair. “But I’m getting tired of safety these days. In fact, I think I’m officially done with it.”
“Oh, yes. Good.” Ruby seemed to suppress a smile. “Erik’s in the parlor, you know. I just saw him come in the front, and he seems to be looking for someone.”
“Hmm? Not sure why I’d care.” But Chloe whipped out her lipstick and touched up the red, glossy color on her lips, then arranged her dark hair around her shoulders.
“Go on.” Ella nudged her. “Go be reckless! You already saved the continent. This will be easy.”
Chapter 47
“Ladies, in the kitchen, look at me! Say … Victory!” A dark-haired man with a notebook stood in the doorway between kitchen and parlor.
“Seth!” Ruby stood abruptly, her hand on her hips, and smiled. “What are you doing here?”
He waved, oddly sheepish. “Your grandmother sent me out for an article on Victory Day for tomorrow’s paper. Said she thought you’d be here. Happy Victory Day, right?”
Ruby crossed the room and embraced him, then stood back and shook her head, softening the motion with a warm smile. “I don’t think so, Seth. Perhaps you can interview at another victory party, as it sounds like everyone in the city is currently hosting one.” She squinted. “What is that thing you were waving around?”
“It’s called a captura.” Seth held up a fist-sized, navy crystal, flat on one side, sharpened into a point on the other. “New invention. The magic sends out light wherever you aim it and captures an imprint of the scene in here. Saves it, I mean. Nothing violent or dangerous, I promise.” He tapped the flat side. “Then we’re supposed to pull the scene out back at headquarters and put the imprint in the newspaper, beside the story. So our readers can better envision the setting.”
“It actually works?” Ella wrinkled her forehead. “I thought that invention failed a few years ago.”
He shrugged. “The inventor hadn’t given up, apparently. It’s only now, with all the magic in the air, that it’s finally working.”
Belle cocked her head, her eyes narrowed. “Who’s the inventor? Is he alone or working for a mage-craft shop? Does he have any financial—”
“Well, I don’t want to be captured by that thingy.” Chloe was back in the kitchen, her lipstick looking a bit smudged. She poured herself another glass of chrysos. “I’m having the best day of my life, no magic needed, and I’ve already been captured by someone else.” She winked at Ella, looking quite smug.
Ella squealed and winked back. Then she held out a tray for the bewildered-looking reporter. “You can capture our Victory Day pastries for the Herald,” she said helpfully. “We cut the crust in the shape of Asylia’s city walls.”
“I’m supposed to be capturing people celebrating.” He pointed the device at Chloe. “You’re the one who created the curses that got our teams to the crater, aren’t you?
“I said I don’t want to deal with magic right now,” Chloe said, her playful tone gaining an edge of annoyance. “Put that thing away.”
“It’s not that kind of magic!” Seth sounded exasperated. He shifted the device, pointing it toward me, Alba, and Ruby at the table. “Just smile and say ‘victory!’”
“Yes!” Alba fluffed her hair and beamed at him, but then she shook her head. “Actually, I don’t want to be captured right now. You should have come hours ago, when my hair and makeup were fresh.”
“Seth …” Ruby patted his shoulder. “Just go try it somewhere else.”
“I’ve already tried it at several victory parties tonight, and everyone else loved it.”
“Well, not us,” Ruby said kindly. “Truly.”
“I don’t understand.” The reporter heaved a sigh, then delicately set the crystal into a pouch at his side. “It’s like you don’t want to be in the newspaper.”
“We don’t want to be in the newspaper.” Chloe crossed her arms.
“Right. Honestly, none of us do.” Ella smoothed her dress over her belly. “Sorry. Maybe you can find someone who wants to be famous.”
He scratched his jaw. “You’re all already famous.”
“There are dozens of heroic Sentinels in the next room eating all our food,” Mom said, having re-entered the kitchen with a collection of empty trays. “I’m sure they’d love to try out your cap-thingy and be in the newspaper.”
“I already asked them,” Seth grumbled. “They said Sentinels don’t trust magic. Not sure why they’re all at the same party as you lot, since half of you are powerful mages—”
“Why, indeed.” Mom laughed and set the serving trays on the counter, then poured a fresh glass of chrysos and handed it to Seth. “Happy Victory Day!” she said, smiling sweetly, a glint of humor in her eyes as he took it from her gingerly, careful not to touch her skin. “Here, I’ll walk you to the door.” She led him to the front hallway, keeping just close enough to make him walk quickly. “Take your chrysos with you. No need to return the glass.”
When Mom returned, the bespectacled girl from Draicia followed her to the doorway. But she didn’t enter the kitchen. Mom waved to her as she hovered in the door to the parlor. “Astrid, isn’t it? You’re visiting Asylia with Ruby and Lucien Patras, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Astrid said stiffly. “Thank you for having me.”
“Call me Zel.” Mom went to the oven and helped Ella move a new batch of freshly baked pastries from the pan to the empty serving trays.
Astrid twisted the ends of her long hair around her finger, lurking nervously at the edge of the kitchen as if she was afraid to enter, despite my mother’s welcome.
I looked around the warm, gold-drenched kitchen, imagining how it might look to Astrid.
There was Belle, the Princess of Asylia, stunningly beautiful and whip smart. Free of any royal airs, Belle leaned against the counter like a commoner, chatting with Ella as they arranged the pastri
es in perfect pyramids.
The two women were petite and dark-haired, but Ella’s green eyes and the scar that sliced down one side of her face, from temple to jaw, set her apart.
Together, they had helped stop the Crimson Blight and set mages free from True Name-based slavery.
And Ruby, Astrid’s mentor, had been the first ever journalist to go undercover with Draicia’s ruthless Wolf clan. She’d faced the Masters alone, when no one else on the continent even knew they existed, and she had warned us about aurae in time to stop the Masters from taking over Asylia.
And then there was my mother. She caught me studying her and blew a kiss as she passed me on her way to the parlor with the fresh pastries. “You look beautiful, hon,” she said. “Glad we found that dress.”
I managed to smile in response, though my chest suddenly tightened with an intense, breath-stealing surge of pride. No one had survived more than my mother. A brutal childhood spent locked in a Draician tower, followed by the work of keeping her three daughters safe and alive for over a decade in hiding. She had defeated the Crimson Blight by the sheer strength of her stubborn will, only to be captured and tortured by the Masters five years later when she’d helped rescue me.
“More chrysos?” Alba shook my arm. “You’re looking too contemplative for a victory party.” I nodded distractedly.
My sister. My sister.
I wanted to squeeze her in a tearful embrace right then and there, but I settled for taking the chrysos she handed me instead, the liquid sloshing up the sides in my unsteady grip. Alba had saved me from the Masters by orchestrating that rescue mission, and by discovering sorbus in the Hollow, my bubbly, warm-hearted sister had made it possible to truly, fully defeat the Masters forever.
Yet Astrid seemed to be watching me.
“You’re a heroine of hers, you know,” Ruby whispered, leaning toward me. “She’s thirteen. Probably overwhelmed by your heroic presence in the kitchen.”
“I’m overwhelmed myself,” I mumbled.
Ruby went back to her conversation as I met Astrid’s gaze. She looked away quickly, but I got the sense that she listened to every word we said, even as she took excruciating care to appear confident and disinterested.
Thirteen?
I’d been that same age when I discovered the Masters in the crater. For the first time, I understood why people kept insisting I’d been only a child when I was cursed.
It was true that I’d made terrible decisions—to run away instead of trusting my father, to approach the Masters instead of fleeing and hiding like I should have. I’d been alone, isolated. Stuck in my own dark thoughts. I never would have guessed my angry, instinctive choices would lead to such pain, but I was still responsible for those choices and their consequences—still guilty.
Guilty, but also forgiven. Not one person in my family held the past five years against me, and Tavar had completely forgiven our fight in the cave and the horrible words I’d spoken to him. His devotion was so steady, so complete, it was like that awful moment had never happened.
I sipped my chrysos, my stomach lurching with a giddy chaos of excitement and relief. What a strange feeling, to be deserving of condemnation yet utterly uncondemned. How could I be so guilty, and yet so loved, all at once?
And what would happen to all the people out there who were like I had once been—isolated, lonely, and trapped in their pain?
At the end, they had their lives, and they had each other, Tavar had once told me, one cold, sunny afternoon as we sat at his kitchen table arguing about the ancient Western poem. It was enough.
People needed other people. People needed love. And maybe, some people needed me.
“Astrid, come sit with us!” I blurted out.
She started. “Me?”
“Here.” I yanked a chair back from the table. “You can sit next to me.”
Chapter 48
The new climbing hall in the Sentinels compound was enormous but blessedly empty, save for me and Dad. In the three months since Victory Day, I’d avoided the Sentinel compound during crowded hours, preferring to train alone or with Dad or Tavar if I could.
We climbed together, far enough apart that we wouldn’t run into each other but still close enough for conversation.
“I gave Tavar the … ah … tower talk. Hope you don’t mind.”
I reached for a new handhold, enjoying the stretch in my shoulders as I transferred my weight. “The tower what?” Why did he sound so uncomfortable?
“You know …” Dad cleared his throat. “I married your mom in the tower, in Draicia. Then …” He swung up to a higher hold. “Events so transpired that she spent the next thirteen years raising twins alone.”
I nodded slowly, searching the wall above me for a new hold. “But what’s the tower talk?”
“Just because you want to get married, doesn’t mean it’s exactly the right time.” Dad stretched for a too-far hold, gave up, and returned to his original position. “Not saying it isn’t. But just exercise a bit of wisdom, will you? You’ve both been through a lot. And we’ve won. The fight is over. There’s no sense in rushing.”
“Ah. The tower talk.” I couldn’t help smiling as I reached for a new handhold.
“You aren’t mad? Alba was furious when I gave it to Si.”
“Alba, furious? I can’t imagine.”
Dad laughed. “You truly can’t. I think we reached new heights with that conversation.”
“I’m not mad.” I wiped my sweaty brow on my shoulder, and then I leapt for a new position, swinging into place with a satisfying stretch. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t the right time, though. But I want to wait, actually. There’s something I’d like to do, but I’m not sure if it makes sense. And if he would—” I grimaced. “I mean, thanks, Dad.” I glanced over to where he clung to his own spot on the wall. He looked bemused. “Thanks for looking out for us. It means a lot.”
He grunted. “Always will, kid.”
“I’m not a kid anymore,” I said tentatively. “I mean, I was a Sentinel—”
“You’re still a Sentinel!” Dad gave up trying for his next hold and dropped to the ground with a thud. “Anytime you’re ready to come back, the door is open. The continent’s changing fast, what with magic in the land again, and the cities are opening settlements in the Badlands. We could use a Sentinel like you on our teams. And I know the others miss you. I miss you.”
I dropped as well, landing smoothly beside him, then reached for my canteen from the floor and took a long, cold drink of water. “I don’t know.”
“Why?” He rubbed his shoulder. “Is it … the memories? All that time training with us while you were under the curse?”
I stretched my forearms and studied the wall, wondering how much I wanted to share. “I’m tired of fighting,” I said at last. “Ready to do something else.” As soon as the words passed my lips, I regretted them. I’d been training to be a Sentinel for so long, perhaps it was ridiculous to be dreaming of doing something so different. And so big.
Dad’s arm came around my shoulders, jolting me out of my spiraling thoughts. He pulled me to his side, all sweaty, warm, familiar strength. “You fought for five years,” he said gruffly. “Guess you’re due for a break.”
~
“Still having nightmares?” Chloe raised her crossbow and sighted it, then fired. The bolt twanged into the distant target, just right of center.
The summer sun beat down on us in the long-distance training yard, and the bright, blue sky made my tired head hurt. I’d only been half-focused on our contest all morning. An idea had taken root in my mind, and it was growing wildly now, branching out, pulling new thoughts in, and taking over every other part of me like a vine on a trellis. What if I was still a Sentinel, but one with a different—very different—mission?
“Sometimes.” I fired on my own target, even further away than hers. Dead center. “Almost every night, I guess.”
Chloe squinted at my target, pursed her lips, and reloaded.
“Some things can’t be healed.” She fired on her own target, hitting the center at last, then turned to me. “Not right away. Maybe not ever. I’ve learned that firsthand.”
“It’s been three months since we beat them, Chloe. I’ve been free from the curse, awake and free, for three months. Yet I still hear her voice in my head.” A lump in my throat made my words thick. “Everyone’s celebrating, and I’m happy—I am—but it’s like I’m still on the outside, looking in. Every time I smile, I feel like something’s wrong with my face. How do we get better? How do we fix it—fix ourselves?”
“Do you think you’re broken?” Chloe narrowed her eyes when I didn’t respond. “Look me in the eye and tell me you think you’re broken.”
“If not, then what—”
“We’ve seen evil, Bri. Face-to-face. We’ve fought it and lost. We’ll never be the same. But we’ve also fought it and won. That changed us, too. Made us stronger, perhaps stronger than we ever would have been on our own.”
“Maybe I wish I wasn’t so strong.” I loaded my next bolt and fired, this one sloppy and wide. I set my crossbow down, feeling disgusted.
“You truly mean that?”
“Yes! Well … I don’t know. There’s something I want to do.” I chanced a glance up, my discomfort soothed by Chloe’s hint of a smile. “An idea I’ve had. I don’t know if I can do it, if it’s even possible, if it’s anything other than madness to even consider trying. But—”
“Knowing what you’ve already done, if anyone can do it, it’s you?”
I laughed, startled. “Something like that,” I managed. “I know I’m not making any sense. One moment, I think I’ll never sleep again because the nightmares are so awful. The next, I think I’m invincible. Must be all the extra magic.”
“There’s a Western proverb the professor loves. He’s always repeating it to me. Something about the dawn being appreciated, or prettiest when—”
“‘The dawn shines brightest on the mortally wounded man.’ I’ve read it before.” My arms prickled with a sudden chill. “‘For it bestows on him yet one more day of beauty.’”