Of Fire and Stars

by Audrey Coulthurst

  “But that’s already how I feel,” I blurted out. “I’ve spent so much time being groomed for this that I have no idea what I want. And no one but you lets me do anything useful anyway. But learning to ride—doing something so new and different—makes me feel more alive than I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe forever.” And so did sitting with her, a fact that made me more nervous by the moment. It frightened me how important it had become to me to win her over.

  Amaranthine looked at me appraisingly. “And do you like riding?”

  “I like it for what it is teaching me. And I’m getting to like the horses better now that they don’t seem to have as much of an appetite for my fingers.” I smiled.

  Amaranthine laughed. “I think it’s more that you’ve learned how not to feed your fingers to them.”

  “So . . . why didn’t you come to the questioning today?” I finally asked.

  “Having all those idiots in one room was the perfect chance to escape, of course,” she said.

  “You were outside the walls?” I couldn’t believe the audacity of it. If I wasn’t safe on the trails within the castle walls, how could she expect to be safe wandering the city streets?

  “Yes,” she said. “If you tell me about the questioning, I’ll tell you what I saw.”

  I told her about the archer’s admission of responsibility for Casmiel, and about her husband who had died. “But I don’t think she was responsible for the attempt on the king. She didn’t have any information on the weapon or know anything about the magic used that day.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure the Recusants are exactly what we’ve been told,” she said. “Yes, they’re opposed to the alliance, but I overheard them talking about the archer. Apparently she was an extremist, acting alone when she came after you. She and her husband had taken money from someone they referred to only as ‘the shadow man.’ The rest of them seem to have some other agenda, talking about a bunch of magic nonsense I didn’t understand. Something about building a siphon because the ambient magic in Mynaria is too volatile.”

  I almost dropped my teacup. No wonder my gift had been constantly out of control. That was the missing piece. Something about Mynaria itself was fueling the volatility in my power. More important, there were people out there who knew about magic—people who could actually control it. Maybe they could tell me how to shut mine off, or protect myself. If they could siphon magic from a kingdom, surely they could remove it from a person. If I could get out of the castle, I could ask.

  “I’ll keep looking for answers about the knife,” I said. It felt like so little in the face of what she’d done.

  “So are you going to show me this silly instrument or what?” She gestured to my harp, which stood ready in the corner, the inlaid spruce warm and inviting in the evening light. Its presence offered the comfort of home, the strings so familiar that I couldn’t remember not knowing how to play.

  “I suppose I could,” I said, feeling a rush of nerves. All the music I knew from memory seemed too trite and courtly for Amaranthine. I opened the trunk at the foot of my bed and rummaged through my music until my hands fell on an unusual piece I hadn’t played in several years.

  “I think we’ll start with this,” I said, and handed the music to her so I could put the rest away. Our fingers brushed, sending my thoughts scattering like a flock of birds. Magic hummed in my fingertips, and I feared she could feel the heat of it when I touched her.

  I sat at my harp, took a deep breath, then fell to playing and quickly forgot Amaranthine’s presence. The piece began with unusual rhythms, paced deliberately, and then blossomed into increasing complexities. My fingers rose and fell with the changing tempos, weaving melody and countermelody into notes that hung in the air like stars. The music washed away my nervousness, filling me with tranquillity and purpose. Eventually the melodies departed as they had come, intricately finding their way out from the rhythms and back into a simple and haunting tune that came to a dark conclusion.

  I let the final notes ring in the air and looked up at Amaranthine. She stared back at me with a soft expression I had never seen on her before. My face warmed. Her appreciation for my playing sent a heady rush of pleasure through me—one I had never received from any other audience.

  “I don’t think you needed the music,” she said. “Your eyes were closed for at least the last twenty bars of that. It was stunning.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” I said, though the compliment set off sparks inside me.

  “I’d love to hear something else.” She leaned forward.

  “What do you want to hear?” I asked.

  “Anything,” she replied.

  My mind rushed through the options before settling on something I was certain she would know: “The Soldier’s Cup.” It was a Mynarian tune that had originated as a drinking song but became so popular that even the smallest child could sing the refrain. I smiled at Amaranthine and began to play. She laughed as she recognized the melody, and as I progressed through the simple song, she hummed along. I hoped for her to sing, but she never went beyond humming the chorus.

  I leaped into another song without pausing to ask for a request. She didn’t even hum that one, so I skipped the bridge and cut to another. It wasn’t until I played a slow, sweet ballad that she finally sang along. The words were so soft at first that I could barely make them out, but as her confidence grew, her voice strengthened into a rich alto that rose and fell with the melody, smooth and dark as Havemont velvet. I picked up a descant above her, letting her carry the melody as I added another dimension to the music. The song had several verses, and with each one we sounded better. She startled me by picking up a low harmony when I dropped back to the melody, finding her way to the notes like a trained musician.

  “I haven’t sung in forever,” she said when we finished, her cheeks flushed.

  “You should never stop,” I said without thinking.

  She didn’t respond, but blushed and turned her head to the side. This Amaranthine was not the prickly girl I knew from my riding lessons or the troublemaker always outside the castle walls. She was something else, something more—a person who could fall into the music with me and leave us both breathless.

  I started another song that would suit her voice, and she picked up again. We played for many sunlengths beyond the time for a polite visit, and finally stopped when my fingers cramped and the remains of the tea had long ago grown cold. Deep in the night, with tired fingers and a weary voice, I felt like myself for the first time since arriving in Mynaria.

  When it came time for her to go, I walked her to the door, both of us dragging our feet as if it would slow time itself.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go.” The words fell out of my mouth, and I blushed.

  “Well, I can’t exactly sleep on the floor in front of your hearth like a pet,” she replied with a smile.

  “I know you can’t, but I had so much fun tonight. This is the best time I’ve had with anyone since I got here.”

  “Don’t tell my brother. He’s bound to be jealous.” Her eyes glowed in the low light of the room, her gray irises darkening into pools that threatened to swallow me whole. “I had a wonderful time too. Thank you.” She reached out.

  Something welled up in me, a desire for her to touch me. My whole world narrowed to the two of us and her outstretched arm, followed by a rush of disappointment when she dropped it back to her side.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she finally said. “Good night, Denna.” The nickname warmed me like an embrace.

  “Good night, Mare,” I said, but she was already out the door and down the hall. I craned my head around the liegeman outside my door until she disappeared around the corner, and then I reentered my rooms with a sigh. Her absence left my chambers colder.

  I took the swordsmithing book to bed with me and read by the light of the oil lamp, filled with humming magic that wouldn’t let me sleep. Just when my eyes grew almost too heavy to stay open, I stumbled over something i
nteresting in the chapter on regional differences in forging techniques. The book stated that steel forged by easterners had an unusual rippled appearance thanks to the extra folding of the steel. If I remembered correctly, the dagger used in the assassination attempt had been bright and shiny.

  If that was true, there was no way the blade could be Zumordan.

  EIGHTEEN

  Mare

  I SADDLED FLICKER BARELY A SUNLENGTH PAST DAWN and joined Captain Ryka and the liegemen trainees for a session of mounted archery. It felt more necessary than ever after Denna’s close call out on the trails. A sweet melody still played through my mind from my evening with her, filling me with excess energy. It took more effort than usual to get Flicker into our familiar rhythm, the beat of his canter easing the tension in us both until we rode balanced and steady, the snorts of his breath as regular as a metronome. When we queued up to shoot, I boldly lined up right behind the captain, a spot no one ever wanted because she was impossible to outdo. Her leather jerkin fitted her like a calfskin riding glove, simple and scarred as those worn by her liegemen. Behind me, the trainees muttered challenges to one another out of Captain Ryka’s earshot.

  “A pitcher of ale for the best score,” one man suggested.

  “And a round for his or her friends, too!”

  “Forget ale. I want the first shot when we go out to round up more Recusants,” another said. “Filthy heretics.”

  “An even better prize!” another trainee agreed.

  Trainees tended to be overzealous due to inexperience, but it bothered me how pervasive the hatred of the Recusants had become. It crept into every conversation like poison.

  Ryka moved like an extension of her chestnut mare as she nudged the horse up into a canter from the line. She nocked and shot with precision and efficiency, her arrows flying swift and true at the exact peak of her horse’s canter strides. There was no ego or showmanship in it—only the practiced motions of someone who had spent years doing little else.

  I pulled together my energy and tried to imitate Ryka’s stony calm. By the time it was my turn to shoot, Flicker and I moved as one. My three shots departed with the elegance of a math equation, each arrow striking the heart of the target. The trainees gaped after my second round of bull’s-eyes alongside the captain’s, asking what I’d had for breakfast and where they could get some.

  Though the archery had been taxing on both my mind and my body, I stayed lively as I curried Flicker afterward. Knowing more about the Recusants gave me a sense of purpose, as did knowing I had Denna on my side.

  “Mare!”

  I looked up to see Denna herself hurrying toward me.

  “Mare, I found something,” she said breathlessly, her flushed cheeks the same shade of rose pink as the dress she wore.

  “What is it?”

  She came closer and whispered urgently. “The knife. I think I found out something that might help us with the knife.” Her green eyes shone as she gave Flicker a pat on the shoulder in greeting.

  “You did?” Hope surged in me.

  She nodded emphatically, running her hand down Flicker’s burnished neck.

  “Let me put Flicker out. We can talk outside,” I said. The barn bustled with activity, and I didn’t want anyone to overhear. After one last brush of Flicker’s coat, I led him to the pasture, Denna following behind. With the wind at our backs, the scent of her rose perfume wafted over me, making me wish she were closer. My preoccupation with her since last night was starting to scare me a little. Singing with her had unlocked something between us, and now I couldn’t turn back.

  Flicker took off into his paddock with the usual fanfare. I stepped upwind of Denna and pushed my silly thoughts away as I hung Flicker’s halter on the fence.

  “What did you find out?” I asked.

  “I think the knife is a fake,” she said. “It’s forged in the style of a Zumordan blade, but the metal is wrong. I remember it being very shiny, which could mean that the steel wasn’t forged correctly.”

  “How in the Sixth Hell can you tell that?” I peered at her.

  “I found a section in this book on swordsmithing that I’ve been reading. If the blade were Zumordan, there would be a grain-like pattern in the steel. I should have found the information sooner, but the book is at least eight hundred pages and I’m only halfway through.”

  “You’re amazing,” I said. She had found the key we needed. If the blade was fake, it could point to an enemy other than Zumorda. Then we could figure out where the forgery had come from.

  “Oh no, not at all. You could have found it yourself if you’d been the one doing the reading.” She favored me with a demure smile, filling me with warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. I liked it when she smiled at me like that, which made me uncomfortable. I shouldn’t allow myself to be so captivated by someone betrothed to my brother.

  Her eyes sparked with excitement. “Perhaps someone else in the cresthaven might know more. That time you came through my window, you said you’d been in the city. Is there a contact you might be able to use to find out where a replica of a weapon could be acquired? I have one idea, but it’s not anyone I know well enough to be a trustworthy source.”

  “Contacts in the city I can help with. So can Nils. But how are we going to verify the blade when Captain Ryka has it?”

  “We’ll simply have to steal it.” She stood straighter, taking on a stubborn air.

  “Taking something from the captain’s ready room is an invitation for multiple stab wounds. I could never do it alone,” I said. Even as I spoke the words, a plan formed in my mind. The patrols rotated regularly, and I could get the schedule from Nils, and it wouldn’t take much practice to remind my fingers how to pick a lock with a bent hairpin. . . .

  “I’ll help you,” Denna said.

  My thought process ground to a halt. “Not a chance. If you get injured or caught sneaking around in the middle of the night . . . I don’t even want to think about the repercussions.” While trouble was no stranger to me, Denna couldn’t risk getting involved.

  “You’re the one who got me tangled up in this.” She set her jaw stubbornly, determination flashing in her eyes. “You can’t ask for my help and then expect me to bow out as soon as it gets hard. Besides, I could be a distraction. I don’t have to actually do anything that would result in stab wounds.”

  I didn’t like the direction the conversation was going.

  “Make me a deal,” she said. “I’ll help you get the knife back. If our suspicions are correct, you handle telling the king, and I’ll stay out of that. In return, you take me outside the walls when you go searching for more information.”

  “You’re joking.” If having her help me get the knife back was a bad idea, taking her into the city where she could be injured, kidnapped, or killed was a thousand times worse. Getting drunk and swimming naked in the horse pasture pond in broad daylight had less potential for disaster.

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “But why?”

  “If I’m to be queen someday, I should see the city from the perspective of its people. I should try to understand them so that I may rule more wisely.”

  Her reasoning sounded questionable to me. But damn it all, I needed to find out who had tried to kill my father.

  “It’s not safe. What if someone recognizes you?”

  “How could they?” she countered. “I haven’t left the palace grounds since Casmiel’s death. We didn’t do a cresthaven tour or even a formal introduction due to the safety concerns. There’s no way the king would let me out of here.”

  “Which also makes it even more difficult to sneak you out.”

  “We’ll come up with a disguise of some sort. Please? I’ll do anything you want,” she begged.

  “Let me think about it,” I said.

  “There’s no time to think about it,” she said. “This is the first lead we have. It should be pursued right away.”

  She was right. But sneaking her into town
was a terrible idea. Still, I was a tiny bit intrigued by the challenge of getting her outside the walls.

  “All right. We can talk through the details after your riding lesson this afternoon. I have to get back to my rooms for a fitting.” I made a face.

  “Yes!” She clasped her hands together and bounced on her toes with a brilliant smile.

  No one else’s happiness had ever been so contagious to me. Like the night before, I wanted to reach out and touch her, to somehow acknowledge the energy that crackled between us like lightning. But I didn’t dare. Instead I stood there smiling back, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

  NINETEEN

  Dennaleia

  AFTER MY DISCOVERY IN THE SWORDSMITHING BOOK, I thought nothing could bring down my high spirits. But as Ellaeni and I enjoyed lunch in the queen’s bower where my bazaar had been held, thunder growled and rain began to splatter on the stone pathways of the garden outside. The wind turned cool, gusting into the room as lightning danced across the sky. Servants rushed to pull wooden shutters into place to close off the indoor portion of the bower from the garden, and raindrops knocked on the wood slats until they pounded down in a rush, a song of taps and drips.

  “Late-summer storms are always the strongest,” Ellaeni remarked.

  “So much for my riding lesson,” I said, disappointed, jabbing my fork into a thick slice of yellow-and-purple tomato in my salad. Since my talk with Mare about the knife in the morning, the next step in our plans had been constantly on my mind.

  “Are you enjoying riding?” Ellaeni asked with a smile. “Amaranthine seems to have a strong personality.”

  “That’s one way to put it. But there is more to her than people realize.” Like the way she could sing.

  “I would like to know her better,” Ellaeni said. “She reminds me of someone back home. Someone I miss dearly.” Ellaeni glanced out a rain-blurred window, her expression wistful.