by K. A. Linde
A sense of rightness fell over her as she approached the opening. Anticipation shot through her. This was it. This was finally when she would get to walk into the room that had housed the Doma court all those years ago. She’d seen it in her visions for years now. And now, she was finally going to step foot into it.
She crossed the final threshold and then used her fire magic to light the braziers around the perimeter of the room. As it illuminated, she took in the incredible space. The sheer capacity that proved Doma power. This, this right here, was her history.
As the final brazier lit, the dome captured the light from around the room, slid across the rounded ceiling, and then sent the light back down. It was so bright that it might as well have been full daylight out. She was amazed by the incredible engineering of it. Or perhaps…the lasting magic.
But when she looked around the new illuminated room, she frowned. It was…dirty.
It was stupid of her to feel disappointed that it wasn’t as beautiful, spotless, and grandiose as she had seen in her dreams. It was just what she had been expecting. This room had been in disrepair for two thousand years. The floors were covered in dust. The seating was warped around the perimeter. The Domas’ chairs at the head of the room were breaking down. Everything was dingier and more disgusting than she had hoped.
Not that there was a thing she could do about it. The room had belonged to the Doma. It was proof of their power. Proof of her heritage. That was all that mattered.
One day, she swore she would return it to its former glory.
With a tilt of her chin, she stepped into the chamber, her steps echoing off of the ceiling. She moved to the center of the space. Exactly where she had stood when she watched Serafina go through the Doma ceremony.
It was also the place that Sera had told her she had left the diamond. Serafina had told her how to place and withdraw objects from the in-between. Then, Cyrene had spent every spare minute practicing. Not with anything as important as the Domina diamond. She’d started out with a rock. Lost it a couple of times, unfortunately, but she’d kept trying. Only when she had been able to put a rock away and retrieve it again did she feel confident enough that she could do this.
But now that she was standing here, she worried that she’d never be able to get this right. This wasn’t a rock. Something of no consequence. This was the most important magical artifact in the world. It was the diamond that had brought Malysa and Benetta to Emporia in the first place. It had been passed down from Domina to Domina throughout history. Serafina had sacrificed her life for it.
She couldn’t mess this up.
With a slow breath out, Cyrene drew her spirit magic to her. It was always easier when she had Sarielle, but she hadn’t exactly been able to fly her dragon here for this. She had to do it herself. And she would.
She concentrated on the space in front of her. At the evenness of the center and the shape of the air around it. Then she pushed her spirit magic into the core. Felt, more than saw, the center split. She held her hand out in midair toward that fracture that said she had moved from one space to the next. Though she remained standing.
She twisted her hand, letting each finger curl inward one at a time as she turned her palm up to the ceiling. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the exertion as she then opened her hand.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, as if in slow motion, a large diamond hovered in midair above her palm. Cyrene gasped.
“It worked,” she breathed. “Oh Creator, it worked!”
Her hand shook as she held the diamond suspended before her. This diamond, this precious thing, that people had given their lives for. That had proven who the true ruler of the Doma was. And now…she had it.
Cyrene stared at it in awe. It was about the size of an egg and perfectly pristine. Not touched by the two thousand years since it had last appeared in this world. The diamond had so many facets that it glittered multi-rainbows all around the room. Showing off for her.
“Hello there,” she whispered to it. “I went to a lot of trouble for you. Let’s hope it was worth it.”
With a tremble, she lifted her hand and let the diamond settle against her skin.
A bright light burst from the diamond at contact. Cyrene tried to cover her eyes, but she couldn’t move. She was rooted in place.
A moment passed in confusion, as she wondered what she had done wrong to collect it from the in-between, and then her world went dark.
11
The Test
Cyrene awoke in the same place that she had been standing. It felt as if only a moment had passed, but she had no way of telling. Her body had a strange sensation, as if she had been trampled by a horse. All in the blink of an eye.
Her hand was still outstretched, and her gaze landed on the shiny diamond in her palm. What had it done to her?
Slowly, she raised her eyes, and her jaw dropped open. The room had been transformed. It was no longer dirty and neglected but resplendent and restored to its former glory. The floor had been scrubbed clean, and the light reflected off of the incredible artwork around the room. Even the chairs for the court were just as she had seen them in Serafina’s memories.
She didn’t understand how this was possible.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and screamed, jumping away from it.
“It’s all right. It’s just me,” a familiar voice said to her.
She whirled and found Serafina standing in the same blood-red dress she had been in when she sacrificed herself for the diamond.
“Sera, what are you doing here? Am I…on the spiritual plane?”
“No, Cyrene, you’re not.” She smiled like Cyrene had never seen her smile. “You are in the Domina court.”
“The…Domina court?” she whispered in confusion.
And then they appeared. One by one. All women. All dressed in white. All looking down on her with incredible smiles. The seating filled up on the perimeter and then each chair of the court. Until, finally, a white-clothed woman sat in the Domina chair. She held herself like a queen. No…like a Domina.
Serafina turned toward the woman and curtsied. “Domina Selma, I present my choice, Cyrene Strohm.”
“It has been a long time coming, child,” Domina Selma replied.
“Yes. Too long. But she is the one.”
“And you, Cyrene Strohm, do you think that you are the one?”
Cyrene opened her mouth in confusion and then shut it. “Can anyone really know? I do the best that I can.”
“As do we all,” she replied. “I am Selma the First. I believe that you have met my mother, Benetta.”
Cyrene gasped. “She mentioned that you were training the Doma as she had trained you. I didn’t realize that you’d become…the first Domina.”
Selma tipped her head. “I did the best that I could.”
A smile split Cyrene’s features at that.
“We must continue onward, but first”—Selma waved her hand at Serafina—“the white if you please?”
“Oh no,” Serafina whispered. “I do not deserve it. This is my punishment.”
“Child, you believed you were bringing equality between the humans and the Doma. My mother also believed the same thing. It is not easily won, especially with dark forces at work. You were deceived. You did not offer your people up for slaughter. You belong with us. In the white.”
Tears came to Serafina’s eyes. She truly had believed this was all her fault. Taken the weight of it on her shoulders for this whole time. Two thousand years of perpetual agony over it. She had been training to get Cyrene to this moment the last two years, and still, she hadn’t believed or clearly even hoped for a second that she would be able to finally return to the white.
“Thank you,” Serafina whispered. “It’s an honor.”
She waved her hand, and the red dress was replaced with a gorgeous white Domina dress. Finally, two thousand years later, she was returned to her people.
Cyrene couldn’t help
a tear coming to her own eye at it. At how Serafina’s help had brought back all that she thought she had lost.
Serafina briefly touched her shoulder once and then stepped forward to take the lone empty chair on the court. Her eyes were kind and encouraging.
“Now,” Domina Selma said, addressing Cyrene once more, “you have come a long way. We are pleased to see the Doma line restored. But there is one more test.”
Of course there was. Why couldn’t it be as easy as Serafina choosing her and then just making her Domina? Nothing ever was.
“I’m prepared.”
“We shall see,” Domina Selma said.
She gestured before her, and suddenly, a podium appeared. Sitting on the podium was a small book. Déjà vu hit her fresh. She had done this before during the Hymn of Remembrance. Reading from the Doma book that had started it all when Basille Selby gave it to Elea in the Laelish Market. So much had changed since then, but still, it came back to the book.
“Please begin,” Domina Selma said, gesturing toward the book.
Cyrene stepped toward it and saw the swirling, iridescent letters that had unlocked her ability to read the magical book. Then they settled, smoothing into words that she could understand. Even though she had the actual version of this book in her possession back with Sarielle and she had read the thing forward and backward more times than she could count while traveling, she had never seen the words at the top of this page.
“The Hymn of the Domina?” she asked, it coming out more of a question than a statement.
But, when no one said anything, she continued to the next line. And then it hit her. Her magic poured from her body, slamming into the ancient book. It swirled with the letters, becoming a tornado of glowing letters, before shooting up out of the book and bursting onto the ceiling.
They kept coming, sucking pure, raw energy out of her body and transporting it to the book. She was glad that she hadn’t used more energy to get through the castle because she was exhausted from her near-drowning and freezing experience. She wasn’t as clearly bottomless in her powers as she’d thought. And still, the book sapped it out of her. Until the words covered the ceiling, expanding and expanding and expanding. Growing to fit the full dome above her in a glittering, bright mosaic.
Cyrene sank to her knees as the book finally tapered off just before draining her dry. She gasped at the emptiness within her. Not gone completely, but she knew how much food and rest she would need to replenish that. It would be days before she could be of use to anyone. How was she going to get out of here without a drop of magic in her veins?
She didn’t voice the question. Just tipped her head up to the ceiling as if she had been compelled. And then watched in horror as the book revealed the tragedy of her life. She couldn’t look away. Stared and stared and stared at the horrors in front of her.
When Rhea had made Second Class and been torn from her. No one had even wanted Cyrene to give Rhea a proper good-bye. They’d had to steal it in the rain themselves.
Cyrene writhing on the floor of the tunnels underneath Albion. The stab wound from the Braj’s poisoned blade slowly killing her.
Maelia standing on the scaffolding, giving an empowered speech. Betrayal of the deepest kind after she’d killed Dean’s parents. She’d leaned down and put her head on the block. The blade had come down, severing it from her body.
Dean feeding her poison to keep her from her magic. Blaming her for his parents. Secreting her to Kael to get rid of her.
The Byern drought. Edric showing her the garden he had watered for her instead of helping the less fortunate. The way he had railed against her when he found out about her engagement to Dean. The way he’d felt entitled to not only her body, but also her heart.
Kael teaching her to steal magic. To cut into minds. To turn her against everyone else. Using her.
Her parents dead on the floor.
Edric dead beside them.
The blood magic that had turned her into an addict.
Daufina swinging from scaffolding.
Avoca being picked up by the Nokkin on the mountainside in the middle of the Drop Pass. Him tossing her aside. Then, her lying in a coma for months.
Fallon covered in blood.
The face of the dark prince within the House of Shadows. Fordham, who had lured her forward. The call that had sung in her veins.
Serafina’s betrayal when she had worked with Viktor to destroy the Doma.
The moment Ahlvie had been taken by Malysa.
Vera’s confession.
Her friends’ abandonment.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
They rushed over her. Rushed through her.
Remember. Remember. Remember.
Never forget.
They were on a reel, repeating themselves. Showing her every misstep. Every heartache. Every betrayal and death and consequence. Everything she had ever done that had ended in destruction.
This was not the work of the Heir of the Light. This was of darkness. This was her fault.
Tears poured down her face as she replayed not just what had happened, but also all the horrible emotions that had gone along with it. Every pain relived tenfold.
She tightened her grip on the diamond, enduring the agony. Because this only told one half of the story. It didn’t show that she and Rhea had kept in touch. That Rhea was still on her side, even when she had been cast out. That the night she had been stabbed was how she met Orden. That Dean’s betrayal had led to him acquiring his magic and them being reunited on different footing. That she had been so affected by the water shortage because she was no longer the spoiled Affiliate she had been when she first arrived at court. That her parents’ deaths and the subsequent blood magic addiction had brought Edric back to life. Avoca’s coma had brought them closer through the bond and fixed the problems between her and Ahlvie. Vera’s betrayal had finally shown her the truth. Her friends’ abandonment had brought her straight to the diamond.
It was one side of the coin. With the pain came growth. It came with understanding and empathy. It showed her the new way forward. Honed her trust and problem-solving and determination. Made her relentless to get answers. And she was better for it…even if it still hurt with an unparalleled intensity.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the words fell back into the book, and it slammed shut with a thud.
No one spoke for a minute.
They allowed her time to compose herself. Wipe the tears from her face and shakily rise to her feet. The diamond still held tightly in her fist.
“You have all the qualifications,” Selma said calmly. “You can access all four elements and spirit. You would never have been able to be here at this moment without them. But you have also seen the world. You have experienced what the world has to offer. Now, you have a choice.”
Cyrene’s voice was shaky when she responded, “What choice?”
“Whether or not you will proceed.” Selma smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “The way forward binds you to all Doma—past, present, and future. Your duty will be to them above all else. That means, you are no longer free. The Doma come first.”
Cyrene’s stomach tightened at that word. Free. Had she ever really had freedom? From the moment she had become an Affiliate, she had been shackled with the weight of prophecy. And then later, her magic. To hear that she would never have that freedom was daunting.
“We want to be clear with you. This is no trick. There is no further testing. You have seen your past. The suffering that you have endured. The way forward is more suffering. More of the same.” Selma’s eyes were kind and sad.
“And the other option?” Cyrene asked with a gulp.
“The way back means, you give that suffering to another.”
Cyrene shuddered. She would never choose to allow someone else to suffer in her place. Never.
Selma leaned forward. “Another will be called to serve.” She pressed her hands onto the sides of the chair and raised an eyebrow. “It doesn
’t have to be you.”
That was what she had always wanted to hear. It didn’t have to be her. Someone else could step in. Someone else could take her place. She could stop the suffering and the horror. She could leave this for someone else to deal with…just as Serafina had.
And had regretted for two thousand years until she could right her wrong.
As much as Cyrene wanted someone else to take the mantle so that she could live a happy life and not have to figure out all that was to come after this moment, she couldn’t imagine stopping now. Not after how far she had come.
“No,” Cyrene whispered. “It does have to be me.”
“This is not for the faint of heart,” Selma told her. “You have to choose this willingly and selflessly. For there is no going back.”
“There never was,” she told her truthfully. “Not for me.”
“Are you certain?”
Cyrene straightened her spine, tilted her chin, and then grinned. “Yes.”
For a second, all she saw was the relief on Selma’s face and the tears gleaming in Serafina’s eyes. It was as if they were suspended in time. In that moment when she had said yes. When she had chosen her own path instead of the one that had always been chosen for her.
This was what she wanted. This was who she was.
Selma waved her hand, and Cyrene’s clothing melted away into a gown of pure white. Then the diamond was gone from her hand. After a moment of panic, she felt it settle on a chain at her throat.
“Congratulations, Domina Cyrene,” Selma said as everyone cheered for her. “We all believe in you.”
Then the darkness crept, and Cyrene was standing again in the Doma chamber of her present. She was still dressed in pure white with the diamond necklace around her neck. Shadowbreaker still strapped to her back. And, to her surprise, all of her magic was at her fingertips. The well replenished as if she had just slept for days and eaten heartily. A gift as much as the clothes and the necklace.