by Lindsey Duga
The figure signaled, and my heart fluttered with relief. Not only was Zach safe—he had found shelter.
…
We had to pass through a waterfall to get to the small cave, but it didn’t matter, since we were soaked anyway. The cliff the waterfall came from wasn’t very high, but it made me anxious all the same. The Wu-Hyll Mountains were getting closer, which meant the egg was, too.
Zach had already explored most of the cave, but he stuck close by me, ready to respond if I felt the presence of the Forces. But I felt nothing, only damp and chill from the freezing rain.
After we started a fire, we took turns using the dark depth of the cave to change out of our soaked clothes into semi-dry ones from our bags. Then we ate and settled by the flames. I offered to take the first watch, and almost as soon as our shifts were decided, Bromley fell asleep.
Zach sat next to me this time, both our bodies facing the cave’s entrance where the horses huddled under the mouth, away from the waterfall. I was much more aware of his presence than the last few times we sat around the fire. No, rather, I was just as aware as before, but the feeling was different. I was…nervous? Anxious? No, neither of those, although similar. It was something I couldn’t name or explain.
“Thank you,” I said at last.
“For what?” he asked, laying out his knives and cleaning them of the vipers’ blood.
“For scouting instead of Bromley.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want him out there alone, either.”
I sighed. “He was angry at me. He said you should’ve stayed with me, that you could protect me and he couldn’t.”
“Ivy, don’t do this. Bromley was just a little shaken from the attack, that’s all. He’s worried about you.”
“Yes, the vipers scared him, and without that mage, things could’ve been much worse.”
Zach stopped cleaning his dagger and focused on the fire. “Who was she?”
“I have no idea. She’s never been to Myria before, that’s for sure.”
“She seems skilled.”
“Especially for one so young.” My nerves slid away as we fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. “Usually it takes many, many years for mages to perfect elemental magic like that. Even more strange, she’s wandering about without a master.”
Zach went back to cleaning. “She said her master was close by.”
“Even if that were true—which I’m not convinced it was—she still shouldn’t be able to exert that level of control over her magic.”
“Why not?”
“Mages are different from Royals in that they don’t need a trigger for their magic. And, also unlike Royals, their magic doesn’t specifically repel the Darkness. They’re born with only the ability to control the elements.”
“I knew that,” he muttered.
“There are three Master Mages for each kingdom, and they advise the Royal Council of kings and queens,” I continued, ignoring his interruption. “Each Master Mage takes on at least one apprentice mage every five years. Because it’s difficult to control their own power, they need a master to learn from and to keep their abilities in check. But she was able to perform that fire magic on her own, with no master in sight.”
Zach’s brow furrowed. “Then you think she’s dangerous?”
“Not necessarily. She must be very skilled to control fire like that—to have it burn in a perfect circle. So I doubt she’ll be accidentally burning down villages any time soon.”
Zach snapped his fingers. “That’s why you asked her to burn the rowan deer. Because you knew she had enough control for the fire not to spread.”
“That, and I couldn’t stand the idea of those poor creatures being…” My voice trailed off, lost in the sounds of the pounding water and crackling fire.
“I understand.” Zach’s voice was low, somber, but still comforting somehow. He put away his daggers and picked up his sword next.
I remembered the griffin knocking that same sword out of his hand, and how, without a weapon, Zach had stood up against the griffin’s talons to save me. Then the golden light…
“Do you think that mage has been following us?”
Zach paused his cleaning and pursed his lips.
“Maybe she was the one who killed the griffin. It had to have been vanquished by magic. There’s no other explanation.”
He frowned, staring at the sword, and remained silent.
“But then again, that certainly wasn’t elemental magic. I’ve never—”
“You just said it’s odd for a mage as young as she is to be so powerful,” he said. “Maybe she has a different kind of magic, as well.”
I wrung out my wet hair. “Maybe.” But even that didn’t add up. Mage magic was elemental. It had always been that way. There was also the fact that the mage had been in the forest with us, and none of us noticed she was there. Yes, she’d been stealthy in the trees during the viper attack, but it still seemed unlikely.
I studied Zach. The tightness in his jaw made it clear he wasn’t eager to discuss the idea anymore, so I switched topics. “Look, back there with the vipers…”
He sighed, and the tension in the cave grew. He suspected I was going to say that we wouldn’t have needed the mage’s help if he would’ve just Kissed me.
I remembered what Brom said, that Zach and I seemed different around each other today. More civil. Closer, even. I couldn’t ruin that.
“Yes?” Zach asked.
Shocking even myself, I reached over and touched his hand, my fingers brushing his inner wrist. I swore I felt his pulse speed up, but I couldn’t be sure.
“You saved me quite a few times back there. Thank you.” Our hands felt too hot, and I wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the proximity of the fire. It was a different kind of heat.
Zach twisted his wrist and caught my fingers in his palm and gripped them. “You’re welcome.”
I couldn’t move my hand away, and it wasn’t because he was holding it tightly. After a few moments, he let go and began tracing his fingertips along my palm. I was entranced with the feeling. His fingers, though callused, seemed so gentle against my skin as he trailed them down my wrist and back up to my knuckles. The garlands of my mark bent and twisted in movement with his hand as a tingling feeling spread up my arm, into my throat, and down my chest. I wasn’t sure what he was doing or what his purpose was, but I didn’t want him to stop the strange rushing sensation flowing through me. His index finger stopped over my pounding pulse, and his eyes locked onto mine.
His fingers pressed just a little harder into my skin, as if he were tugging me into him. I drew close, curious of the sensation that was spreading from my arm to my whole body.
Then a loud snore echoed off the cave’s walls, and Zach and I both jumped, our hands breaking apart, breaths sharp and quick.
We glanced behind us to find Brom snoring, softer now.
But the…whatever it was…was gone, and Zach packed up his knives and sheathed his sword without another word, then settled in for sleep.
My curiosity fled, replaced by familiar logic. That feeling between us was too intoxicating, too addictive. Dangerous. I had the sudden urge to stick my arm in the chilling waterfall in hopes of getting rid of Zach’s fiery warmth in my hand.
PART TWO
The Queen and Her Descendants
Born under holly
Born under thistle
Nestled in blankets of snow
A girl of the moon
A girl of the sun
Together they play and they grow
Deep in the forests
And in golden fields
A brave young hunter is met
A maiden of love
A maiden of hate
Three can never sing a duet
Excerpt from a Romantica ballad
Chapter
Eighteen
The Romantica’s Tale
When the clouds finally dispersed midafternoon the next day, we set out moving
west to get back to our main trail. Zach led us through the trees and brush with ease, barely glancing at the marks he had made. It was as if he already knew this forest like the back of his hand.
As we traveled we could see the devastation from last night’s storm. Ice in one form or another seemed to be everywhere—sheets of it on the bark, icicles hanging from branches—and huge cracks where the ground had split apart, showing frozen roots, so we had to go out of our way several times. I just hoped the storm had stayed in the forest and not moved on to any nearby villages.
“I’m really getting sick of these trees,” I muttered, brushing aside a branch. “How much more of this forest, you think?”
Brom plucked our map from one of his saddlebags. He unfurled it and sighed. “At least another day.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll come across one of the cleared areas by nightfall,” Zach said without looking back.
Brom handed the map to me so I could double-check, and with just a glance, I saw he was right. The forest we were in took up a large portion of the middle of the map, stretching from east to west with tidy illustrated trees to show the wooded areas. There were small patches of the forest without the tree drawings—small but definitely there. “Yes, there’re a few ahead.” I traced my finger across the map and paused at a small cluster of houses. “Those must be the areas this village uses for lumber.”
As I leaned over to tuck the map back into Brom’s saddlebag, I muttered to him, “I’m surprised he remembers that from our meeting with Commander Weldan. He was hardly paying attention.”
“I heard that,” he called back.
Brom and I laughed.
Zach tilted his head to the sky. “With no trees overhead, it looks like we’ll get to see the stars tonight.”
Clear skies at last—perhaps even a sliver of the new moon. Though my enthusiasm for the vast night sky made the day and our travels just grow longer. I felt my mind drift several times as we passed tree after tree.
“Where do you think she came from? What kingdom, I mean?” I asked Brom when we had stopped to give the horses a chance to drink from the nearby stream. It was early evening, and the trees were at last beginning to thin.
“The mage? I’ve never seen her in Myria.” Brom shrugged. “I haven’t heard any rumors about a young female mage, either.”
“She’s definitely been west,” Zach piped in, washing his hands in the stream and splashing water onto his face. He winced. “That’s freezing.”
“The streams come from the mountains, so they’re practically all melted snow.” I went over to him with a clean cloth and brushed it against his face as he reached for it. Our hands touched, and we both flinched—the memory from last night on my mind, at least.
“Why do you think she’s from Saevall?” I asked, pushing past the awkward moment.
“I didn’t say she’s from there. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s from Raed.”
My mother had just come from Raed with news that the Wicked Queen had last been sighted there. Maybe the mage knew something about the Sable Dragon, which was why she was so far north. But that was unlikely. Few people could decipher omens from regular dark activity, let alone understand what those signs meant.
“She’s been west, at least, because she’s heard of me,” Zach said.
Brom filled up his flask and tilted his chin in thought. “But many people from across the kingdoms have heard of the Swordsman Prince.”
“Yes, but few know that I fight without a partner. That’s a rare piece of information that’s often rumored but never confirmed.”
“Why? Do you not want people to know of your one-man crusade for True Love?” I asked.
He chuckled. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Weldan’s.” Zach handed me back the now-damp cloth. “Weldan fought for me at the Saevallan Council to allow me into their Legion. They weren’t pleased about it, especially when they learned I was the son of a Romantica. They didn’t trust me, but Weldan argued on my behalf.”
“Did he know that you were…?” I asked.
“A Romantica? I never told him outright, but I think he suspected. Even so…Weldan cares more about killing monsters than bloodlines. He saw I could fight and wanted me in the Legion. Somewhere down the line, I think we became friends. Hard to believe, right?” he said with a crooked grin.
I recalled the conflicting way Weldan treated Zach—in front of his men, harsh and irritated, but alone with me, he’d spoken of Zach with reverence and confidence. I could sympathize with Weldan’s plight. He couldn’t show favoritism to friends, especially if those friends excelled above all others and were heretics.
“Not so hard to believe,” I said with a wink.
Zach raised his eyebrows and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, once I proved myself on the battlefield, the Council didn’t need any more convincing. Of course, when they found out I wouldn’t take a partner, they almost threw me out. But Weldan said I should at least be allowed access to the information about the Forces provided by the Legion’s sources, with the stipulation that I keep quiet about my…opinions.”
“Does Weldan share your opinions?”
Zach stared off into the trees thoughtfully. “No, but he does respect them.”
Only a few days ago the jab would’ve ruffled my feathers, but now I could tell he didn’t mean it to be offensive. Strange, that we could talk about this topic without either of us getting irrationally angry.
Him, because he believed he’d won the argument.
And me, because I knew it to be only a temporary truce. I still planned to get his Kiss.
…
By dusk we had come across several tree stumps, evidence of the nearby village. It made our pace faster, but mostly it was just a relief to travel without branches brushing my arms, legs, and head.
It was when the sun was finally shining its last rays—great streaks of yellow and orange across the sky—that Zach stopped and raised his arm, pointing toward the horizon. “Smoke. There. Do you see it?”
It was faint. A subtle white haze drifting above the trees. It wasn’t too far away, either, perhaps a little over a mile.
“A village?” I asked.
He squinted at the smoke. “Looks like it’s coming from a large open fire, maybe even a bonfire. Unusual for a village. The mage again? She could’ve looped ahead of us…outrun the storm.”
“Don’t think so. Mage fire smoke usually gives off a coppery tint,” I said.
“Troll’s breath,” Zach cursed, dropping his gaze from the smoke to the sparse woods around us. “It’s directly in our path. If we go around it, it could add another two hours out of the way, and we need to stop for the night.” He looked to Brom and me. “It’s probably nothing I can’t handle.”
“Could be bandits,” I pointed out.
Zach smirked. “Like I said, nothing I can’t handle.”
Remembering his complete and total victory over Amias, I couldn’t argue with him. I rolled my eyes anyway. “What a pompous prince.”
Zach laughed loudly, and a buzz of happiness went through me.
The smoke grew as we traveled, as if its masters were feeding the flames with triple the amount of wood it had started with. The sweet burning smell tickled my nose, and in its fragrance I could detect the aroma of pork and wild pheasant. My mouth watered. It had been a while since we’d stayed at the village with Patrice’s delicious stew.
Once we heard voices, the crackle of the fire, and faint music, Zach made us stop, and we dismounted. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
I grasped his wrist. “Be careful, they could—”
Zach placed two fingers on my lips. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but I’ll be fine.”
I pushed his hand away. “Get on, then,” I snapped, ignoring the way my pulse had quickened. “I’m starving.”
Zach disappeared into the gloom of the trees, and Bromley and I barely waited for more than five minutes before Zach came back, not nearly as surr
eptitiously as before.
“It’s a band of entertainers—perfectly harmless.”
“Entertainers…” I threw my arm out in front of Brom as he stepped forward. Narrowing my eyes at Zach, I said quietly, “You mean Romantica.”
No response. Neither of us moved. With a sigh, Zach finally said, “They’re good people, Ivy. We don’t need to tell them we’re Royals.”
“You mean one of us is a Royal,” I shot back.
Zach’s jaw tightened. “They’re good people.”
The story about his mother came back to me. The pain in his eyes when he’d talked of his past and his people. They certainly weren’t evil. Just misguided. But I wasn’t going to make the mistake of insulting Zach again.
“I never said they weren’t. I’m just… They’re different. How do I even go about talking to them?”
Zach took my hand. “Like you’re talking to me, only less snooty.”
I broke into a grin. “I can’t promise anything if they’re even half as obnoxious as you.”
Zach laughed and unfastened my cloak, turning it inside out so the Legion crest was no longer visible, and then he tugged me along. Bromley trailed after us with the horses.
We came to the edge of the woods, and I had to stifle my gasp at the scene before me. Instead of a simple campsite, it was practically a festival, complete with tables piled high with food freshly cooked over their glorious fire, musicians playing on flutes and fiddles and beating on stretched skins, and colorfully dressed characters chatting, eating, and dancing. Their canopied wagons of blue, red, and purple were parked in a circle around the fire, and their horses—even a few goats—were tethered in a grassier area, grazing.
Looking at the festive scene, the devout Royal in me prayed the priests would never find out about this. They would want me to perform a dozen rites to rid myself of their heretic germs.