by Wendy Wang
“You catch the trees on fire,” Cai laughed. “A better idea might be to learn to extinguish it.”
“All right,” she said.
“Close your fingers around it and in your mind, tell it to return from whence it came,” he said. Neala nodded. It amazed her how solid the orb felt as her hand closed into a fist. The flame grew smaller until it disappeared, leaving only a slight trail of white smoke. A smile tugged at her lips.
“Now what?”
“Now practice that about a hundred times a day.”
“Are you joking?”
“Not remotely,” he chuckled. “That is what junior wardens do. Once they’ve mastered creation and suppression, they’re allowed to take aim.”
“Sounds slow.”
Cai took a bite of his peach and nodded. “Indeed. It takes a long time to become a warden for a reason. We wield a tremendous power, especially as wardens. It is never to be rushed or taken lightly.”
“Are you planning on this training lasting for the next eight years?” she said.
“Perhaps—” His eyes glinted with mischief and he smirked. Cai waggled his eyebrows. “But only if it lets me spend my mornings climbing the hills with you.”
Neala’s cheeks heated and she laughed out loud. Her elbow connected with his and she pushed against him. “You said you would train me to protect myself.”
“I’m training you—and when I’m done, you will definitely be able to protect yourself,” he said. He finished his peach and tossed the pit into the trees. “Are you ready?” Neala nodded and they headed back down the mountain, done with the first day’s training. Randomly, Neala stopped and pulled a flaming orb into her palm then squelched it.
“The real trick,” Cai told her as they approached the town limits. “Is to get to a point where the connection between your heart, your mind and the energy living inside you is continuously flowing. Then you’ll be able to open your hand and a flame will appear with one single thought.”
“So wardens always have this energy flowing through them?”
Cai nodded. “Yes.”
“It is amazing the warden complex has not burned to the ground,” she teased and shook her head. “All those boys and girls able to pull flames with their hands.”
“Well, it is made of stone for a reason.” Cai winked. “The second lesson young wardens learn is self-control.”
“A very big order, for very young boys and girls,” Neala said.
“Indeed,” Cai said as he signaled to the warden in the guard shack to open the palace gate. “You just keep practicing, Highness. It will become second nature for you, too.”
Neala grinned, opened her palm and watched as a fireball formed. “I cannot wait.”
Eleven
“Warm milk?” Her mother peeked into the family’s breakfast room. “I don’t think I’ve seen you drink that since you were a child.”
“It worked magic on me then. Maybe it’ll do the same now,” Neala said as she brought the cup to her mouth and sipped. She sat at the long table where her family gathered for breakfast and informal suppers.
“Still having trouble falling asleep?” Her mother went to the sideboard. A bowl of fruit, a glass dome over various cheeses and a bread basket all were available as snacks at any time. An iron stand next to the sideboard held a cast iron kettle. A flame burned beneath it as long as the kettle had water inside it. The Queen took a quilted pad and picked up the kettle, tipping the spout until steaming water filled a china cup. In the cabinet she found several tins of tea leaves. She popped the top from one, took a big pinch of leaves and put it in her cup before putting the top back on the tin.
“Falling asleep, staying asleep—take your pick.”
Her mother brushed her hand over Neala’s hair and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Nightmares? Eustacia told me that it can take a long time for them to go away. Especially when they’re caused by trauma.”
“I’m fine, Mother. I’ve always had a hard time falling asleep.” Neala took another sip of her milk, wishing she’d put some cinnamon in it.
“Yes, you have. I remember it got worse, right after your father died. I’m not surprised it’s worsened yet again.” Her mother poured a spoonful of honey into her tea and stirred it. Two taps against the lip of the china signaled her mother’s tea was perfect.
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are fine,” her mother said, taking a seat next to Neala.
“Mother—”
“You can protest all day long, but I see the shadows beneath your eyes, and the grayness of your skin. You’re haunted, my love.” Her mother sipped her tea.
“I am not haunted,” Neala protested. “I’m fine. Truly.”
“Mm-hmm. So you keep saying.” Her mother fiddled with her spoon. “I understand you’ve begun your training with the chief.”
“Yes.” Neala nodded.
“I had hoped it would tire you out.”
“It does tire me out.”
“Evidently not enough.” Her mother tipped her head towards Neala’s glass of milk. “How much of this training is physical?”
“I don’t know. Mostly, it’s mental. Creating a constant flow of energy. Connecting to my affinities on a deeper level. I can even read another now without giving myself away.”
“I see.” Her mother pursed her lips. Neala knew that tone well. The that’s-all-fine-and-good-but-I-know-better tone. Neala held her breath and waited. “You know what I think?” And there it was. Neala let out her breath and grinned into her milk.
“No, Mother. What do you think?” Neala said, trying not to laugh.
“I think you need a little physical training. You used to spend so much time walking and hiking and you’ve done so little of that since—” Her mother paused and put her spoon flat on the table. “Well, since you’ve gotten home.”
“I’m walking again. Cai and I walk at least an hour a day.”
“Yes, but obviously that’s not enough.”
“Obviously.” Neala rolled her eyes.
“Just for that, young lady, I order you to meet me in the north tower tomorrow morning.” Her mother looked down her nose but her mouth had curved into a half-smile. She raised her cup to her lips and took one last sip of her tea. “I’ll show you what real training looks like.”
“Is that an order from my Queen?”
Her mother stood and kissed the top of Neala’s head “No. That’s an order from your mother, which far outweighs any order your Queen may give you. Now go to bed and try to sleep.”
“Much easier said than done,” Neala said. Her mother frowned and went to the sideboard. She retrieved a green tin with gold writing on the side that simply read—For what ails you. She put the tin on the table in front of Neala.
“Drink a cup of this. It’ll help you sleep,” her mother said.
“What is it?” Neala eyed the tin, wary of anything with such and announcement.
“It’s only chamomile with a hint of valerian root grated into it,” her mother said. “It’ll quiet your mind and help you relax.”
“I’m sure that’s exactly what they said about the mandrake they gave me.” Neala grumbled under her breath. Her mother touched her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Just try it,” Impatience edged into her mother’s tone. “Like the tin says, it’s for what ails you.”
“Fine. I’ll try it.” Neala relented and picked up the tin.
“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Mother.” Neala watched as her mother disappeared through the door. Scrunching her lips together, she popped off the top of the tin and brought it to her nose. The sweet, minty fumes of the leaves and petals filled her senses and the tightness in her shoulders slackened a little. Maybe it would help. She gathered a good pinch and placed it in a clean tea cup. Steam rose as she poured water from the perpetually hot kettle over the leaves. The water turned a pale yellow-green and she brought her nose close
to the cup, letting the soft, sweet steam bathe her nose. Tiny prickles danced across her scalp, releasing pressure points she wasn’t even aware of and she suspected there was more to the tea than just chamomile and valerian. She almost didn’t drink it, but the temptation of lying prone on her bed with every muscle relaxed was too strong to pass up. Even if she didn’t sleep, it would be worth it not to feel like the strings of a fiddle that had been strung too tightly. She hated that she was startled at the smallest noise or touch. It made her feel damaged, and worse, as if she would never be normal again.
After doctoring the tea with a teaspoon of honey, she gave it a quick stir and blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip. The tea cooled her mouth and throat and she closed her eyes. Her body relaxed almost immediately, traveling from her feet to her head in just a few more sips. This is what it must feel like to be a marionette whose strings have been clipped, she thought and a giggle bubbled in her throat. Her arms flopped at her sides and she had to work to get the cup to her mouth for another sip. It became too tedious to try anymore and she left the half-empty cup on the table and padded back to her bedroom. As she fell onto her bed, her body splayed across the down-filled blanket. Her lids grew heavier and her mind wandered back through the day’s events. The last thought that flitted through her head just before sleep overcame her was of Cai—his dark, wavy hair, pale blue eyes and his beautiful, shiny white teeth when he smiled. Thoughts of his smile led to thoughts of his lips and just as she drifted into a dreamless sleep, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
******
Neala squinted over a stack of books in the breakfast room. The books were usually issued to first year junior wardens and Cai had insisted she at least read through them, even if she never applied the concepts. Some of the information she knew from her own education, but the entries regarding mindset fascinated her. Junior wardens couldn’t advance to higher levels if they couldn’t master the warden mindset early. The halo of light and protection that Cai had forced her to create the day that he walked her out of the palace was the first thing junior wardens learned. Every day, they had to practice calling up the halo to connect to their own affinities on a different level than an ordinary Kael. They had to learn to walk around in a constant halo—letting nothing deter it. It took months of practice to master it. The halo would later transform into a sort of armor both mental and physical. The halo made killing a warden almost as difficult as killing the Queen. She called up the halo several times a day to practice, but found it exhausting to walk around in a constant state of connection. How would she ever get to the point of transformation?
Isolde walked into the breakfast room, stood in front of Neala and cleared her throat. “Ahem.”
Neala frowned and looked up. “What is it, Isolde?”
“You are late. Again.”
“Late for what?”
“You have an appointment with your mother in the north tower.”
“No, I don’t.” Neala said. Something niggled at her. “Wait. Yes, I do. Ah. Jerugia’s crown, she hates that.”
“Indeed she does, so you’d best get going.” Isolde folded her arms. “She also wanted me to let you know that she dismissed Linka this morning.” Isolde’s eyebrows arched up and her lips pursed.
“What?” Neala slammed the book in front of her shut. “Why?”
Isolde shook her head. “You’ll have to ask her. She wouldn’t tell me.”
Neala pushed away from the table and stood. Anger flashed through her. How dare her mother interfere? And without consulting her? She gathered her books and put them into Isolde’s arms. “Please take these to my room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Isolde said.
Neala rushed towards the north tower, tucking the tail of her pale green blouse into her pants as she made her way through the corridors of the family’s apartment. Her boots clacked on the fine marble floor of the gallery as she walked across the grand hall towards the oldest part of the palace. The tower was part of the original palace built when the Kaels first moved down from the mountain. It stood as a stronghold against invaders from other realms and from the top, the whole town could be seen, along with the valley stretching in every direction.
The wall to the tower had no door, only four alcoves with a stone gargoyle perching on the end of it. Twice a day, the gargoyles left their perches, climbed along the wide granite blocks and fought with each other. The conquering gargoyle would have his choice of perches over the alcoves. Whichever perch he chose opened to a secret passage, leading to the stairs inside the tower. If she didn’t choose the victorious gargoyle, the other gargoyles would swarm her. They were vicious little creatures, created by one of her ancestors, and they would not respond to anyone’s orders but the Queen’s. Neala still had a scar on her shoulder from a nasty altercation with them when she was twelve. She walked from alcove to alcove, staring into their ugly, stony faces, looking for some sign of this morning’s victor. The gargoyle on the far left had his back to her—not exactly a victory stance – and she dismissed him right away. The next statue rested his chin on the knuckles of his claw, his lips frozen in a snarl. The third leaned forward on his front claws, his fangs bared. She glanced at the fourth beast and from the corner of her eye she thought she saw the fanged gargoyle waggle his back end, like a cat ready to strike. Clearly a sign he’d lost this morning’s battle. The fourth gargoyle squatted with his head high and his eyes watchful. The way his lips curved around his protruding teeth looked almost like a gloating smirk. She took a deep breath and touched her dagger to his chin.
“Let me pass.” She used her most commanding voice. Something moved to her left. Her right hand tightened around her dagger and she was suddenly aware of heat in her left. Her breath rasped as she raised her left palm. A fireball barely the size of a walnut hovered above her fingers, radiating heat and light.
A loud click and the drag of stone drew her attention back to the tower. She closed her fist around the fireball and it disappeared. The interior wall of the alcove slid inward, with just enough room for her to turn sideways and pass through.
Once inside, the stone door shut behind her. Flames lit the narrow passageway from a stone trough that ran along the wall next to the winding staircase. The steps sloped in the center, slick from age and use. The last time she’d been to the training room was nearly four years ago. She’d used it to practice for her last elements test. She wondered when her mother had started using it again. Neala started to climb.
The clink of metal echoed down the stairs. Swords? Or perhaps spears or staffs? Neala moved faster to get a peek at her mother in action. The heavy oak door hung ajar and a slice of white light spilled onto the landing. Neala stood in the shadows, watching as her mother flipped an opponent over her back onto the floor. Her mother bellowed, lifting the broad sword with both hands above her head before plunging it into his body. The opponent shrieked and vaporized into a watery, black mist. Most Kaels had no idea what a fierce warrior their Queen could be. Her mother pushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and then glanced at the door.
“I can hear you breathing, Neala,” her mother called. She moved towards a table against the wall. She grabbed a small, clean cloth and wiped her sweaty face. “Come in and close the door, please.”
“Is that all you could hear?” Neala moved into the room and folded her arms across her chest.
“I wasn’t listening for your thoughts, if that’s what you mean.” Her mother walked to the back wall and placed the spear into its holder. An array of different weapons lined stone wall—spears, swords of different lengths, various knives, and axes. All metal. All made by one of her ancestors.
“Why did you dismiss Linka?” Neala said. “You didn’t even discuss it with me.”
“No. I didn’t.” Her mother reached into the pocket of her black pants and pulled out a small, milky green orb. Neala took it in her palm and it rolled around until a dark green dot appeared. Her mother pressed a finger to the dot
and Neala almost dropped the orb as the image of her and Francie sitting on Neala’s bed as Francie braided Neala’s hair appeared. They were translucent, like ghosts caught between worlds. Neala reached out to touch Francie’s head and her hand passed through it. When Francie began to speak, Neala thought she might be sick. They talked about nothing important, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was somehow this device was keeping record of what was going on in her room. How long had it been there? And why was it in Neala’s room? “She’s been spying on you. The chief took her into custody a little while ago.”
“Where did this come from?” Neala’s hand floated to her neck.
“Isolde told me Linka had been acting a little strange since you started training with Cai. I asked her to keep her eyes open, and this morning she found Linka trying to smuggle this out of the palace,” her mother said.
“To what end? Who would want to see me in my bedroom?” Neala said, her voice flat and irritated. Peter’s face popped into her head. Would he go as far as spying on her?
“I don’t know. It’s in Cai’s hands now. He’s having wardens sweep the family quarters and my offices in case there are more. Cai is also looking into the backgrounds of all palace employees, regardless of how long they’ve been with the family.” Her mother’s mouth twisted as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I thought Braedin looked into all that for you,” Neala said. Braedin had been the butler and manager of the royal household when her grandmother was Queen.
“Even Braedin’s reach is sometimes limited. Cai has different resources at his disposal.” Her mother touched the top of her arm and squared her gaze on Neala. “I don’t want you to worry about any of this, all right? Cai thinks it may be Nydian.”
Peter. It always came back to Peter. “Why?”
“Because they specialize in new technologies. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to go to war with them.”
“You could have granted them sovereignty,” Neala said quietly.