by Wendy Wang
“I—uh…” Her mouth gaped. Was he toying with her or did he really not recognize her?
He gave her a smug grin. “None of this would be an issue if you had your security warden with you, Your Highness. He would carry your papers for you.”
Neala sighed, her shoulders slumping with defeat. Caught. And she hadn’t even made it to the town limits. “Are you going to turn me in to my mother?”
“You know I should.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s dangerous for you to be out alone, especially in this political climate. There are a lot of Kaels who don’t have any use for the monarchy.”
“I’m quite aware of how people feel about the monarchy” She pursed her lips together to keep from saying something she might regret. Her father’s death was a constant reminder of how some people felt about her family’s position. “And just so you know, I can take care of myself, if need be.”
“I bet you can.” The corners of his mouth twitched, hinting at a smile.
“Now will you please just let me pass?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No,” he said. “I think I would be remiss in my duties to let you out of my sight.”
“And I think you’re full of piffle,” she snapped, balling her hands into fists.
“I bet your mother would be very interested to know her youngest daughter had circumvented her security officer and put herself in danger of being kidnapped. Or worse.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a thin piece of jute. A binding rope. It was the newest piece of warden hardware – supposedly inescapable, regardless of the wearer’s affinity for an element. “Are you going to go quietly?”
“No, wait,” she said. “Don’t do that.” She imagined her mother’s beautiful face, and how her eyes always seemed so distant now, so lost in her grief. The thought of disappointing her mother with her own selfishness made Neala’s heart ache. “If you drag me home wearing that thing it will just upset her. If you have a heart at all –”
Peter blinked at her and the smile threatening to erupt a few moments ago disappeared. He opened his mouth, then closed it. His brows tugged together, and a deep line formed between them. “I suppose I don’t have to say anything.” he said, shoving the rope back into his pocket. “But –”
“But?” She tipped her chin, suspicious of him despite the sympathy she saw on his face.
“I do have to act as your security officer as long as you’re out of the palace alone.”
“No, really, that’s unnecessary.” She shook her head.
“It’s absolutely necessary. You don’t want to get me in trouble, do you? If my brother found out that I’d discovered you walking alone and did nothing about it…” He shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about the consequences.”
“I know your brother and we definitely have our differences, but I don’t believe for one moment he would ever harm you.” She cocked her head and gave him a half-smile.
“Depends on your definition of harm.” He chuckled and flashed the reckless grin that made her feel fevered and chilled at the same time. “My brother loves to make an example,” Peter said. “And he would never go easy on me.”
“No, I suppose he wouldn’t favor you. That would be unfair,” she said, thinking of all the times Caius Declan had caught her breaking the rules—whether it was ‘accidentally’ losing her security, the time she stole a scarf from one of the shops on a dare from her older sister or the time she broke into the city’s library after hours. Cai always seemed to know about her transgressions. He could have turned his head because she was the Queen’s daughter, but he didn’t. When he caught her stealing at fourteen, he had marched her home, told her parents what she had done and asked to punish her like any other thief. Because of her affinity for metal, no jail could hold her so she was made to work for the old woman in her shop until she paid for the scarf. She had hated him at the time for embarrassing her and making her father look at her like a criminal.
“So, what do you think? Shall I escort you home now? Or –”
“Or?”
“Shall I act as your security officer for the day? We can go wherever you want.”
“Wherever I want? You sure about that?”
“I am.”
“What if I tell you I want to go to Cariuel Falls?”
“I’d say it’s a little cold and icy to go that far. What if we hiked up to Brythrin’s Ridge. There’s something there you should see.”
“I’ve been to the ruins plenty of times.” She shook her head. “Before my father—” She stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Awkwardness filled the space between them and the worst part was his eyes, so full of pity she could hardly stand it. She crossed her arms, pulling them tightly around her waist.
“We should go there,” he finally said. “There really is something there you should see. Something…amazing.”
“Something amazing?” She called up a smile and shrugged one shoulder. “I think I could stand a little amazing today.”
“It’s settled, then.” He grinned and it chased away the tension between them. “This is going to be great, Princess, just wait and see.”
“You shouldn’t call me that,” she scolded him, but only half-heartedly.
“You are indeed a princess, aren’t you?” he goaded her.
“Yes, but there are protocols, even for cocky lieutenants like yourself.”
“Cocky, huh?” His eyes glinted with humor and he shook his head. “I think we should make our own protocols. And mine is to call you Princess.” He jutted his chin in his act of defiance and waggled his eyebrows, making her laugh.
“All right. As you wish.” She grinned and when he returned her smile, this time it did not overwhelm her or make her blush. He stepped back, allowing her to pass. As they walked together towards the edge of town, to where the trails into the surrounding mountains began, the lightness returned to her heart and she couldn’t wait to see the ruins again.
Two
Moving up the trails took longer than she expected. They had to stop every fifty yards to clear snow from their path where it was too deep to trudge through it. Finally, they came to a clearing halfway to the ridge.
“We should stop,” he said. “Drink some water and rest.”
“I’m not tired,” she said.
“Maybe not, Princess, but still let’s just break here for a few minutes. We can take in the view.” He pointed to a large outcropping of blue granite.
The sky had cleared of any sign of winter’s gray and though the air was still cold, the sun warmed her face. It had been too long. The rocks beckoned and Neala climbed out to the furthest point, taking a seat and dangling her legs over the edge. The last of the morning mist evaporated and the city of Tamarik, nestled between three mountains, gleamed as the sun made its way overhead. Peter sat beside her as she opened her coat, tugged off her gloves and pulled an apple from her bag.
“Want half?” She held up the shiny, red and green fruit.
His eyes darted towards the dagger strapped to her thigh. “That’s a nice blade.”
“Thank you. I made it myself.” She shrugged and placed her hand on the leather-bound hilt. “For my rites of Bandahl.” With her thumb, she removed the metal piece holding the blade in place and slid it from its scabbard. A quick toss in the air and she caught it by the blade and offered it to him to look at.
“That’s a good way to cut off your fingers, Princess. Unless it’s just for show.” He took the dagger and inspected it, felt the weight of it and handed it back to her.
“Oh, it’s plenty sharp. It could slice you in half, bone and all if I commanded it to, but it knows better than to cut me.”
“Does it? You factored that in when you made it?”
“‘Course I did.” She grinned, proud of her creation. She had spent weeks thinking about everything she wanted the blade to do or not do before she set her intention for the metal and made it submit to her command.
The blade slid through the skin of the apple with no resistance and she sliced it into two halves, offering him one. He took it and chomped it, letting the juices dribble down the sides of his chin.
She giggled at his silliness. “Only when it counts, I think.”
He nodded and a dark shadow flitted across his eyes.
“What about you?”
“Me? You haven’t heard about me?” His voice was full of humor but there was an undertone of bitterness, too. “I’m the chief’s reckless baby brother. More trouble than I’m worth.”
“Yes, I had heard that,” she said, letting her lips curve into a smile. It had been so long since she had teased or joked with anyone and she liked the quick banter between them.
“Good. I’m glad you’re keeping up with the town gossip.”
“A girl’s got to have interests.” She chuckled and took a bite of apple. It tasted crisp and sweet against her tongue.
“Indeed.” He nodded. He took another bite from his apple and threw it into the woods. It landed deep in a drift of snow leaning against a tall cedar tree. He sighed. “I see why you like it here. It’s peaceful.”
“It is.” She folded her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. The air smelled sweet and clean.
“So you’re to be matched soon, I suppose?” he said. Her eyes flew open and she turned her head towards him, surprised to find his expression serious.
“I am,” she said cautiously. “In three months.”
“I bet you already have a long list of suitors.” He gave her a sideways glance.
“Only ten will be selected. If you’re interested, you’d best get your application in now.” She laughed, trying to wipe the solemn look from his face, then took another bite .
“I just might do that.” His grin returned. “That would certainly shake our parents’ worlds, wouldn’t it? For us to be matched.”
“Indeed, it would.” Neala nearly choked on a piece of apple, unable to stop the heat from rushing into her cheeks. She coughed and laughed, spitting the offending piece of fruit into the snow.
“Something funny?” He didn’t sound amused. “You think I wouldn’t have a chance if I put my name in?”
“No, I didn’t mean—” Neala stopped talking and felt her jaw tighten. She sighed. “You’d have just as good a chance as anyone else. I only laughed ‘cause — ‘cause the way you said it made me nervous.”
“Oh,” he said. “I made you nervous.”
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
“We’re even then, I suppose.” His eyes locked on hers, making her breath catch in her throat.
“Well that’s just ridiculous,” she scoffed. “How could I make you nervous?”
“Look at you — you’re smart and beautiful. Probably the most eligible woman in all the realms.”
“I think my sister Francie might have something to say about that – she is heir, after all.”
“Yes, but her match will be all about politics.”
“Aren’t all matches really about politics?” She shook her head. “After all, every suitor will have been hand-picked by my mother and the circle of governors.”
“What about love?” he said, sounding wistful, and it surprised her that he might be so romantic.
“Just because you’re matched through a ceremony doesn’t mean there can’t be love. My parent’s love each other very much.”
“Loved,” he said quietly.
Loved. Past tense. The word stabbed through her heart and she couldn’t figure out if he’d said it to purposely hurt her or if he was just unaware of what he’d done. It took a moment for her to recover before she spoke. “Yes, loved.”
The air around them grew heavy and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She took one last bite of her apple and chucked the core into the woods. It hit snow-covered branches on a tall fir tree, causing a mini-storm on the forest floor.
“Well, I don’t care what my mother says. I’m only going to be matched to someone that I can truly love.” Peter pushed himself to his feet and pulled something from his pocket. “Hold out your hand.”
“Why?” Her hand drifted to her throat and she stared at his hand. Was he trying to trick her?
“You showed me yours.” He shrugged and his eyes glinted with mischief. “Now I’m showing you mine.”
Neala raised her left hand slowly, palm out, and her right hand slid over the hilt of her dagger.
Peter unbuttoned the top button of his uniform and reached inside the neck of his shirt. A thick, silver pendant hanging from a thin strip of leather around his neck emerged. He slipped it over his head and pressed his thumb against the back of the pendant. Something landed in his hand and he held it up to the sunlight between his thumb and forefinger, before taking her hand in his and placing it in her palm. It nestled against the meatiest part of her hand.
“What is this made from? Onyx?” she said, rolling it beneath her forefinger. Her nail scraped across its surface and she felt indentations.
“Obsidian,” he said.
“It’s been carved.” Peering at it, the shape of the tiny sculpture became clear. It looked harmless but as it glittered in her fingers, she knew better. “It’s a bear!”
“Very good.” He gave her a half-smile. “It’s also my lifestone.”
“Really?” She pulled it so close to her face it made her cross-eyed. “How is that possible?” The bandahl was an extension of a Kaels power. For most, it acted as a magnifier of the holder’s affinity for an element. But if made well, it could protect or do whatever the holder commanded. Most bandahls she’d seen were fashioned from one of the five elements. She’d never seen one made from a lifestone before. It thrummed against the skin of her hand–full of not just the energy of the element but Peter’s energy, too. It humbled her that he’d let her hold it and a lump formed in her throat. How had she earned such trust so quickly? She handed it back to him, afraid she might drop it.
“It’s a tradition in my family, something that started with my great-grandmother.” He pressed the stone into the pendant and the silver locked protectively around it. He slipped it around his neck and let it slide into his shirt, hidden away again.
“That’s amazing.” she said. “Thank you for showing it to me.”
“Like I said - you showed me yours.”
“Mmm.” She nodded and bunched her lips to one side. He was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. “We should get going if we want to make it by noon.”
“Right,” he said, holding his hand out. She put her hands in his and he pressed her hands together, enveloping them in his. “Your fingers are like ice. Where are your gloves?” The feel of his warm skin against hers enticed her, but it also sent a shiver through her and made her breath sound harsh in her ears. If she wasn’t careful, this attraction could get out of hand and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Not this close to her match.
“Let’s go.” Neala yanked her hands away and shoved them inside her pockets.
“As you command, Princess.” he said, grinning at her like he’d just discovered her deepest secret.
******
They took turns clearing a path through the snow as they hiked—Peter using his warden’s baton and she using her dagger.
“I don’t really have an affinity for water,” he told her as he touched the tip of his baton to the next swath of ice-crusted snow. A wide crack formed and on command the snow parted, pushed to the sides, opening enough space for the two of them to walk side-by-side.
“You seem to be doing fine,” she said.
“It’s not me. It’s the baton.” He stared down at the length of black metal in his hand. “It’s the best part of becoming a warden. I know most people think it’s the uniform, but really, it’s the baton.” He pivoted and stood in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. “You’re mad at me.
”
“What? No, I’m not,” she said.
“Then I embarrassed you. Before.”
“No.” She scowled. “You’re not a very good reader for a Wood Kael.”
“I never said I was a Wood Kael.” He smirked.
“How can that be? You’re from a family of Wood Kaels. Your mother is the governor of Ethavia, the birthplace of Wood Kaels,” Neala said, incredulous.
A dark shadow crossed Peter’s face and his ever-present grin faded. He shrugged. “I’m not a Wood Kael. My primary affinity is for fire.”
Neala crossed her arms and thought over his words. It wasn’t unusual for a Kael to have more than one affinity. Only very few commanded all five as she and her mother and sister did. But she thought it highly unusual that Peter didn’t have at least a trace of his parents’ affinities.
“Do you have any others?” she asked.
“Metal and earth,” he said. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I told you mine…”
Something about his question made her uncomfortable and she shifted her feet. Even though the law had changed, attitudes hadn’t.
“Your choice.” Neala frowned.
“You know there’s a rumor about you,” he said, walking backwards.
“Now who’s gossiping?” She shook her head, trying not to spend too much time looking at him. Who cared how it made her feel when his eyes smoldered in her direction? And what difference did it make how handsome he was or how perfect his lips were when he smiled? None of it. That’s how much. She bit the inside of her cheek hard to keep from saying something she might regret.
“They say that you were never culled.”
“And who is ‘they’?”
“Oh, you know, the ubiquitous they. All knowing.” He grinned. “So, is it true?”
“What difference does it make if it is?”
“A lot, actually. You do know most Kaels can’t command all five elements. I’d wager to say they’re lucky if they can command two.”
“I know that,” Neala said. She didn’t like his condescending tone. “Contrary to what you might think, I have not been locked away in a closet my whole life.”