“Voice . . .” Cali stared at her hands, picking at her nails. “Amee looked different than most Traborians because she was foreign, right? Do you think she came from this . . . Sjadia.”
“It’s possible, though I find it interesting you are pondering it. Why all of the countries out there would you think Amee is from Sjadia?”
Cali jerked her head up and squinted at Voice. Is she serious? “Because Tera thinks I’m Sjadian, or half, at least.”
A few seconds passed before Voice replied, “What do Tera’s thoughts on your appearance have to do with Amee?”
Voice’s confusion annoyed Cali and she flung her hands in the air. “Because Amee is my mother so if I’m half-Sjadian than one of my parents must be full Sjadian.”
“You think Amee is your mother?” Voice asked incredulously.
“Of course she’s my mother. You’re telling me her story for a reason. She has my dark hair, which I couldn’t have gotten from a Traborian, and somehow she won Falan—though I don’t know why she’d want him—and that’s where I get my blue eyes and why I’m the princess of Trabor, which must’ve made Raina furious and she got in a magical fight with Amee and somehow I ended up in a country covered in snow with no people or past.” She stopped waving her arms and dropped to the ground spent.
Voice sunk to hover beside her. “Princess, I am so sorry. I—I had no idea you were thinking all of that, but Amee wasn’t your mother.”
Cali’s head jerked up. “Sure she is. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“No, Princess. There’s much to the story you do not yet know. The answers will come in time, but it is not Amee who is your mother. Raina and Falan are your parents. You are the babe in the story.”
Tears burned Cali’s eyes and she fought to bury her emotions.
“I’ve always imagined what my parents would be like. I pictured them as wonderful people without flaws. Instead my father was a terrible friend and a shallow person and my mother . . .” Cali struggled to keep back the tears. “She treated Amee like she wasn’t important enough to clean her boots.” Cali clamped her lips together, afraid that if she said anymore, she would dissolve into hysteria.
Voice’s tone was soft when she answered. “Oh, Princess, no one is perfect. We are all flawed, humans and orbs alike. To expect your parents to be without fault is putting expectations on them that no one can live up to.”
“But Falan’s treatment of Amee was . . . unforgiveable.”
“No, Princess, it seems that way at first. Emotion and hurt, they cloud judgment. Amee was hurt that Falan didn’t return her affection and then forgot her. That hurt compounded when Falan and Raina humiliated her. What Falan did was wrong, and it showed his failings.”
Cali pulled her knees up and hugged them. “So you’re saying that what he did wasn’t right, but it didn’t make him irrevocably evil.”
“Correct.”
“It still hurts. Amee was like me, she didn’t have friends and she was out of place. I kept thinking that we’d understand each other, that if things hadn’t gone wrong, however they went wrong, that we would’ve been close.”
“Unfortunately, Princess, people do not get to choose who gives birth to them. I am sorry that my story has caused you pain. I should’ve seen the connection you would make between Amee and yourself.”
“Maybe what happened was for the best.” Cali looked away and whispered, “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to be raised by such ugly people. If Traborian perfection means radiant on the outside and twisted and evil within, than I’m glad I never attained that.”
She stood and walked to where Tera and Angel sat. Her eyes were probably rimmed with red, but she didn’t care. The last thing she wanted to think about was what had brought them on. I forgot to ask why my hair is black. Must be some sort of spell Amee cast to mock my parents. She settled next to Angel and accepted a hot bowl of the strange-smelling food from Tera. She cautiously filled her spoon and lifted it to her mouth. Her eyes widened in appreciation, and she started consuming the rest of the contents. “What is this?”
“It is stew. Do they not have it in Trabor?” Tera asked.
Voice answered, “Cali has never eaten any meat before. There was not an easy way to add it to her diet.”
“It’s delicious,” Cali said, reaching for a handful of nuts. “I’ve read about meat, but I never imagined it was this good.” She leaned back and propped herself against one of the pillows that were scattered around the fire. “I know it’s late, but I’m wide awake after all of the sleeping I’ve done. Would you be willing to tell us your story?”
Tera stared into the flames, as if they were speaking to her. “Yes, now is as good a time as any.” She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“It was many centuries ago that a band of my countrymen came to Shayal. What they were escaping—”She shrugged“—I never knew. I was the first to be born here, and my recollections of my early years are . . . vague. Things were difficult. We were outsiders trying to find our place. When it was discovered that we had magic . . .” A tear slipped down her face. “We were hunted and killed even though our magic was benign and we’d never used it for violence. They killed us faster than we adapted. We lived like rats, scurrying from one hiding place to another. Not daring to live anywhere too long.”
The fierce, towering guardian she had met was gone. In her place was a defeated, lonely woman.
Tera’s tale continued, full of hiding and death, until she and her parents were alone. As their hunters closed around them, they made a final desperate move. Using the ancient magic of their people, Tera’s parents transferred their powers into her, risking failure that would’ve left them catatonic. Afterwards, they led their pursuers as far from their daughter as they could.
“They wanted to give me—”Tears fell freely from Tera’s eyes“—my best chance for survival. They left themselves vulnerable and lured those animals away from me. I took on the guise of a street urchin, listening for any word of my parents. It was not long before the kingdom was celebrating their death.”
“Didn’t they know about you?” Cali asked.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps they did, but figured a child who was the last of her kind was no threat. I secluded myself here and, with time, my people were forgotten.” Tera swiped at her tears, leaving streaks across her face. “However, I never forgot and was determined not to let my parent’s sacrifice be in vain. There’s a black market in Rokuhai where I purchased magic books. I expanded my skills and learned offensive magic. I am the last, but I am not powerless.”
Tera stood, a flash of righteous indignation in her eyes. The powerful guardian was back, the weeping woman but a memory. Pacing, she continued her history.
“Centuries passed and I was safe. Then fate decided to toy with me, and led a handsome stranger into my wood. I fell in love with him and believed him in love with me. I let my guard down, left this place, and gave up my notions of hermitage.” She waved her hand dismissively in the air. “I do not wish to go into detail on this. Suffice it to say, I was a fool. Once he discovered I had magic, he planned to use me in his rise to power.”
Her voice took on a defensive tone, as she admitted, “Indeed, I did help him, though not as far as he wished. I realized he was using me and my eyes opened to his true self. I returned here, and thankfully, have been left alone. Bludgaard has no wish to try my tolerance and forbade all from entering here. It is the only good thing that came out of our relationship.”
Angel gasped and leapt to her feet. “Bludgaard, he was your stranger?”
Chapter 10
Kota rode ahead of her men as they continued their eastward trek. The Tónghuà Forest lay to their right, a constant reminder of their thwarted pursuit. Tension lurked over their heads, brought on by Kota’s ominous mood.
A light breeze tickled the back of her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She tried in vain to ignore the memories assaulting her. Every attempt to bury them was ru
ined by the presence of the forest. The sight, the sound, the smell, all of it whispered to her, teasing her with the knowledge that magic had obstructed her again.
Finally, she ceased her fruitless attempts and gave herself over to the memories. It’d been so long ago, close to two hundred years. She’d been on the cusp of adulthood, her last year as an adolescent. At the age of one hundred and nineteen, it was expected that she would use her final year to get into all sorts of mischief. She never expected to go as far as she did.
❄❄❄
Sjadia was a powerful country, surrounded by barriers, both magical and physical. Those who dared enter, intent on conquest, were swiftly crushed.
Sjadians were split into three classes: the Shumin, peasants; the ruling class of Moshu, composed of magic wielders; and the Daifu, who, like the Shumin, had no magical tendencies, but were able to elevate their station in life to become landowners and merchants.
Kota had seen little of the powerful magicks, most of her caste, the Daifu, kept their heads down. There were rumors aplenty of what the Moshu could do and the rare show of might in a distant village. Millennia of suppression and undeniable superiority had solidified the control of the Moshu and examples were rarely needed.
Her mother, Halona, was a talented dressmaker, her creations admired by the socialite Moshu. Kota had little interest in following Halona’s path. Her father had died thirty years before and as the only child, Kota found herself pressed into helping her mother.
After several incidents where Kota had ruined a debutante’s gown, she was assigned to more menial tasks. She ran errands for a few years—delivering goods, picking up shipments of material, and doing odd jobs for the seamstresses—until she discovered a talent for bookkeeping. Halona was quick to notice and allowed her free reign in financial matters. Under Kota’s guidance, their tailoring business soared to new heights.
Everything was going smoothly . . . until the night of the Empress’s Ball.
They had received their largest order ever, from none other than the empress herself. Kota was kept busy ordering fabrics of every material and color. Not only were they to outfit the empress, but also her son, Prince Damian, heir to the Sjadian throne. Halona was commanded to journey to the palace for the entirety of the wardrobe creation.
Not wanting to be parted for the months this job would require, Halona brought Kota with her.
After two months of watching her mother and a host of apprentices measure, cut, sew, and embellish an extravagant amount of clothing, Kota was bored.
One warm evening, she snuck out of their assigned quarters and slipped outside. Treading silently, Kota disappeared into the expansive garden, which filled the castle grounds. Once she was sure she was out of range of any patrolling guards, Kota began to relax.
The garden was beautiful, a place of tranquility and wonder. Kota found herself strolling under cherry trees whose flowers clung with fragile determination to their boughs. Pink petals scattered underfoot, their smell drifting up to tantalize Kota’s nose.
Reaching the end of the blossoming trees, Kota gasped in wonder. Before her lay a grove filled with trees covered in white. Their branches trailed towards the ground, layered with delicate creamy flowers. Her hand trembling, Kota lifted a finger to touch the silken petals. She twirled in delight, hands raised as the flowers settled into her dark hair.
Never before had she seen anything so lovely and pure. Then it hit her, these must be the mythical snow fountains.
Legend told of a secret grove, hidden from all but the royal family. A place where all imperial tears were shed. Each tear became a snow fountain and that sanctuary was the only place they grew. Folk said that was why no one had ever seen a member of the imperial family cry. In this way, they kept their pain and their precious snow fountains to themselves.
Kota had never paid much mind to the stories. Up until that moment, she had wondered what was so intriguing about a bunch of trees. Now, though, she saw beauty that no tale could do justice to.
Before she could contemplate the validity of the legend, she heard voices. Desperately she scanned the area, looking for a place to hide. She couldn’t be found, surely she was not allowed to be here. Struggling to keep her head, Kota spotted a pond with a wooden bridge spanning its length. With the voices getting closer and nowhere else to hide, Kota scrambled under the bridge. Tepid water soaked her tunic and trousers as she crouched down. She held her breath, not daring to move.
She could now make out two individual voices. The first sent ice straight to her heart, chilling her to the core. The empress! Kota had heard her enough in the past few months to instantly recognize her voice.
The second voice was that of a young woman, slightly older than Kota if she had to guess. Kota couldn’t place the voice, but it carried a distinctive note of authority.
“This is the last time I’ll ask for your help, Mother.”
Kota trembled in fear as realization flooded her. The missing princess. Could it be? Ten years ago, the twenty-three-year-old princess, a child by Sjadian standards, had disappeared without a trace. No announcement was made by the royal family, but the absence was noted by the nobles and the castle staff. At first, the empress had tried to stifle the news, but that only caused word to spread faster. Finally she resorted to making examples of those who were caught whispering tales. In time, fear did what it always did: silenced those who would speak out.
“You were not supposed to return. There was an uncivilized commotion among the people when you left. If you were discovered here now, it would spark the rumors all over again.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I fear for my daughter’s life and my magic can barely support my glamour.”
A note of disdain entered the empress’s tone. “Yes, your magic is pitiful. I do not see what this has to do with me. I am not to blame for your inadequacy.”
Footsteps on the bridge made her close her eyes and clench her fists. This was obviously a conversation that would mean her death if she was discovered.
“Please, Mother. I beg you. I left Sjadia as you wished an—”
“Of course I wished it. You made this family vulnerable. You should never have been born.”
Silence fell, stretching until Kota was sure they had detected her.
“Don’t you think I know all of that?” The princess’s voice broke as she whispered, “You told me enough times how I’m the unfortunate result of your first marriage to a man who concealed his limited magical abilities.”
Kota’s mouth dropped open. It was an act of treason to be dishonest about your magic when being considered for marriage into the imperial line. All future consorts must be powerful enough to produce heirs capable of holding the throne. Only those who claimed potent magic were even contemplated for the honor.
“Yes, he lied,” the empress spat. “When you were born that lie was discovered. He paid the price for his treachery, but until another heir was conceived, you were all I had.”
“Then why didn’t you just kill me once Damian was born!”
“Because you still had a use, protection for my son.” Disgust dripped from the empress’s every word. “If anyone ever tried to assassinate one of the imperial children, who do you think they would target?”
The princess’s voice quavered. “Me, I was the heir.”
“Now if we are finished with all of this droll talk, I would like you to leave.”
The princess took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what came next.
“No, not until you help me. Help me this once and your secret leaves with me.”
“What’s to stop me from killing you?” The empress laughed.
“I have linked a message spell to my life force. If I die, or don’t deactivate it in time, it will send a message to each of the major Sjadian cities. There are several secrets concerning the imperial family that could cause quite a stir.”
The water in the pond began to bubble and the sky darkened. Kota cou
ld hear the wind whipping through the snow fountains as the water grew fierce. The empress’s rage was tangible, and Kota waited for her to strike the princess down.
“You have nothing to lose by helping me, Mother. All I want is a charm.” The princess’s voice could scarcely be heard over the pounding waves and crackling lightning.
Gradually the tempest calmed and the water smoothed out. Kota was now thoroughly drenched and all sense of reason had fled from her mind. If terror hadn’t rooted her under the bridge, she surely would’ve ran, only to be smitten in the middle of that horrible place.
“This will be the last thing you shall ever receive from me. Speak quickly, before I change my mind.”
The princess spoke hastily, “There is a darkness in my land—a sorceress—who grows more powerful by the day. I had hoped she wasn’t bent on causing us harm. But three months ago she made her move. This woman looks Sjadian, and her magic is powerful. She said in four months she would return and take everything from us.”
“I do not need to know the details. What is it that you want?” The impatient note was back in the empress’s tone.
“A protection spell. I want to know that if the worst happens, my daughter will be safe.”
Kota’s fear receded a little and she found herself curious. Protection spells were way outside of her magical knowledge, which wasn’t saying much.
“You ask for a protection spell as if they are easy to create. The cost of enacting one could have dire consequences in your new land. You know the basic elements of protection spells, they’re unpredictable. They’re almost sentient and their idea of protection is deeper than ours.”
“I know, but if there’s a chance my daughter will survive, I don’t care.”
For the first time, Kota sensed the empress was also intrigued. “What about your husband?”
“He was a means to an end. I needed him to ascend to the throne in his land. He is of no more use. My daughter will rule, even if I do not survive.”
They are the same. The princess is just as cold as her mother.
Heart of the Winterland Page 10