“Father is afraid of people without magic,” Bevyn said. “Mother told me that once. I don’t know all of his secrets, but he hates us for not being powerful like he is. Of course, now, it turns out you are. Have you been hiding it all this time?”
She nodded.
“You are very talented,” he said. “Regardless of your power, your ability to hide is remarkable.”
She wasn’t sure whether to thank him. The water goblet was gone now, and all she could think about was wanting more. Where had it gone?
“Will you stay if they let us go?” she asked. “If they ever let us out of this room?”
He smiled. “Everything they value is in here.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t kill us to get to it.”
She was growing tired again, and she allowed herself to lay down on the floor.
“You’ll have to be strong,” he said. “Can you do that? Can you be strong for a little while longer?”
She didn’t know. And as her eyes fluttered shut again, she could hear his voice as though he were far away.
“Just a little while longer.”
* * *
She awoke and found herself in an unexpected place. She was still in the vault, but everything was gone, everything but her.
How had they done it? And where was Bevyn?
Maybe it’s all in your mind.
It was possible. She considered the idea that it was highly unlikely they would’ve come and taken everything out without killing her first. For one thing, how had they kept her asleep?
She looked around and realized they had left one thing behind. A goblet, the same one she’d had the first time, was waiting by the door, and it was full of water.
She dashed across the room, but she was careful when she picked it up, not wanting to spill a single drop. As she drank, she tried to decide what to do next. There was no sign of them, of anyone.
She finished the water and put the goblet back down on the floor. As she’d done before, she pressed her ear against the wall, searching for a way out. That had been Father’s voice earlier, hadn’t it? And he had sounded almost scared. Was that possible?
It didn’t matter to her. She wanted him dead; frightened or not, he had it coming.
She found the same section of wall where she’d escaped before. She pulsed it with her power until it cracked open, leading her into the master bedroom.
It was empty. Everything was in perfect order. The bed was made, the curtains were drawn, but no fire burned in the hearth, and a chill went through her.
She had no weapons, but she couldn’t stay where she was.
She began to wander. Down each corridor, she walked through the darkness. No torches were lit, and so she breathed fire into her hands to light up the space as she walked silently through the castle.
They have to be here somewhere.
“Come out!” she yelled. “Fight me like men!”
But the house stayed silent.
She walked down to the kitchens, but they were abandoned just like the rest. They’d cleared everyone out, including, it seemed, themselves.
Was she that powerful? That frightening? This idea felt odd. Untrue. Impossible.
But maybe Bevyn had been right; maybe she was the most powerful of all.
She shook her head as she walked through the halls, refusing to believe it. But after twenty minutes of searching, she found herself back in her pink room, completely alone.
She gathered the few things she’d amassed over the years. From within the closet, she removed the ancient painting, the portrait she’d once wondered about, wondered if it had been her father and her depicted. She knew now that was impossible. He’d hated her from the beginning.
She unrolled the canvas and spread it across the bed. It had been nothing but a dream, and yet she’d treasured this picture, this proof of the possibility of love, even if it didn’t exist within her own family. She briefly considered trying to take it with her, but she had nothing with which to carry it.
She crossed the room and looked through the small stained glass and out at the sea beyond. Tears came to her eyes as she remembered the night she’d nearly died. She still had no memory of how she’d survived or why, but one memory that would stay with her forever was the look on her mother’s face before she fell to her death.
Riona had betrayed her, and while Gwyn didn’t hate her for it, she was deeply hurt by it. She, the youngest, was left alone to fend for herself.
As she looked around the room again, she realized she didn’t need anything from within it. She had the stones in her pockets, and that would be enough.
Run
As she walked away from the pink room, she heard something unexpected: her father’s voice.
“Come outside,” it said, impossibly loud as it echoed through the hallway, amplified. “We’re ready for you.”
She’d barely had a chance to practice with the stones, but over the years in her secret room, she’d taught herself a few things. She could disarm someone, put them to sleep if she was close enough. She could send a bolt of lightning from her hands and destroy whatever that lightning struck. She could burn, as evidenced by her work on Torin’s wrists. And she could hide behind the makeup her mother had provided. She’d only ever used it to restore her beauty, but now she realized it would be, could be, much more useful than just that.
She slipped inside her bedroom as Torin’s voice grew louder.
“Gwyn,” he said. “Don’t keep us waiting much longer, or we might change our minds.”
Change their minds about what?
She went to the vanity and found the makeup. Short of the many weapons that had been removed from the vault, this was the only thing she could think of that she could need in the future.
Because she was getting out of this life, one way or another.
She stood in front of the mirror, long since replaced, and regarded herself. Her dress was still damp, ripped in a few places, but she had no desire to change. Her face was her own, scarred and tender from years of slashes and hot irons. She turned her head and looked at the untouched side of her face. Her cheek was clean and soft.
But it wasn’t the truth.
She turned back to view her true self, both beautiful and terrifying at once.
She was ready.
As she made her way to the front of the castle, she heard her father’s voice in the background. She couldn’t understand the words, though, because the beating of her heart was so loud in her head that it drowned everything else out.
Finally, she reached the door, stopping at it for a moment to catch her breath.
This is it: one way or another.
She opened the doors and went out to meet the fight.
Her sawed-off heels clicked upon the cobblestone, and as she came out into the open, she found her brothers and father awaiting her.
“Where’s Bevyn?” she called.
Her father looked confused, and then he smiled and stared back and forth between Phalen and Varik.
“I know not where your brother is,” he said, his voice amplified across the square. “He has left us. My only regret is we didn’t kill him first.”
Her stomach turned to knots. She’d been afraid of this, afraid that her conversation with Bevyn had been false, imagined.
What else had she imagined? Was it possible that she could sit down right here and have no part in whatever was to come?
No. Because, imagined or real, what was about to happen would not be pleasant. She couldn’t simply stay off to one side; they wouldn’t let her.
She balled her hands into fists and approached them.
“I’ve been waiting to see you, daughter,” Torin said. He lifted up his hands and showed her his wrists. “I’ve been magically healed, you see. Your little trick had no lasting effects.”
She kept walking, but she paused in her mind.
Who had healed him? How?
“It will last inside your mind,” she calle
d. “You will have the memory of your daughter, devoid of magic, nearly killing you. That seems sufficient.”
Torin’s smile faltered, and he raised a staff before him, a foot taller than he was. He pointed in her direction, and at his movement, her brothers mimicked him.
Still, she didn’t stop. And when they let their fire loose from their magical tools, she was ready for them.
All three men at the same time released their magic, aiming to kill, but all she needed to do was hold up her hands to prevent it. The bolts of magic did not reach her, did not even touch her fingertips, and with a flick of her hands, they rebounded upon them.
Surprised, they fell to the ground in an effort to evade her counterstrike.
But she didn’t stop. She shot bolt after bolt at them, taking turns between them, and each of them struggled to avoid direct contact.
She was getting closer now, and soon she’d be face to face with them. Volleys of power shot back and forth between them, but they were evenly matched, and nobody fell again.
The boys climbed to their feet, and they advanced upon her, leaving their father behind.
Once again, Torin showed his cowardice. She tilted her head, surprised. She’d known he was not a brave man, but she hadn’t considered the idea that he would be so easily frightened.
If only she’d tried all of this years ago.
She thought about her scars, the years of abuse, the feeling of blood trickling down her face, sticky in her hair, and her power came easily to her. She didn’t know what drove her brothers, where their power originated from, but she felt certain hers had grown stronger through the years.
She abandoned her attacks upon Torin and focused on the boys. For each shot they took, she took two. They tried to defend themselves, striking her again and again with their staffs, but they were no match.
She knew her father would advance upon her soon, knew that she didn’t have much time, so she strengthened her attack, and soon Phalen and Varik found themselves on the ground. They didn’t move again.
She focused her eyes on the one man who remained. She was not afraid, only resolved, eager. She ran at him, both hands out, magic flying as he tried to defend himself. But she was getting through. Her burning fire reached through his defenses and burned him wherever he had skin exposed. Soon, half his face was destroyed, and she mused that now, finally, they looked related.
His hands covered his face as he hit the ground, though she wasn’t sure why; was it vanity or pain? He’d somehow managed to heal his wrists, though she had no idea how. An elixir, maybe. Her brothers, unlikely.
Maybe he had some makeup of his own.
Soon, she was only ten feet away, then eight, six. And she was upon him. She radiated fire, and she put one boot up against his neck.
For a moment, she thought to ask him why. Why had he abused them? What had been the point? But then, she realized she didn’t need to know the answer. All she needed was for him to die.
She stepped harder onto his neck, and soon he was choking, gasping. But then, just as she thought she had him, he smiled.
“You cannot kill me,” he whispered. “You will fail every time.”
She sent lightning through her fingertips, dying to burn his face until there was nothing left. And while he screamed in agony, she noticed that her power over him was waning. It seemed she was unable to hurt him any further than she already had, and she wondered about what he’d said.
Was it possible? Was he impossible to kill?
He put his hands upon her boot, still grasping, trying to come up for air, but not a few seconds had passed before he finally gave in and passed out.
His defenses were down. He was near death. And yet, she still couldn’t kill him. She threw everything she had at him, finally falling to the ground on top of him and attempting to strangle what was left of the life out of him.
And yet, he still breathed.
She sat up, sweating and tired, some of the adrenaline leaving her. She didn’t know why, but he wouldn’t die. She looked longingly at the road that led away from the castle. That was the road Derric had traveled with his king not long ago. She couldn’t remember which kingdom they were from, but remembering his kindness, she knew there must be somewhere in the world for her.
But she couldn’t leave Torin behind.
She looked around for her brothers, but they’d vanished. Maybe they were waiting in the wings, ready to strike. Or maybe, like cowards, like their father, they were hiding.
She was banking on the latter.
She stepped away from her father’s body and reached down to grab him by his long hair. She dragged him across the square until she reached the front door, and through it, they went.
She wondered again where everyone had gone. Had he released the servants from their bonds, or had they finally become so terrified that they’d fled? Through the empty hallways, they went until she finally reached the vault. She pulled him inside and dragged him close to where she’d spent the past few days on the floor.
She took one last look down at him, puzzled by her inability to kill him, wondering why. Then, she was surprised when he opened his eyes. He grabbed her ankle and struggled to speak one last time.
“I will find you,” he said.
* * *
She opened the doors wide and stepped outside, closing them behind her. She had no intention of ever going back inside those walls again. The sky above was stormy, and as she walked away from the only home she’d ever known, it began to rain.
When she reached the edge of the castle where the road met the square, she didn’t look back. Maybe her brothers were back there getting ready to strike. Maybe Torin had found his way out of the vault already and was right behind her. She imagined she could feel them breathing down her neck as if they were walking beside her, but she refused to turn. She could not spend the rest of her days looking over her shoulder, could not spend the rest of her days in fear.
She wouldn’t.
And so, with pockets full of treasure, she looked to the horizon. Maybe she would find the sun somewhere in the distance. She couldn’t be sure. But with the sound of ocean waves lodged permanently in her memory, she left the Opal Kingdom and began the long journey away from her childhood and into her future.
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