by Jaymin Eve
I emerge and call the elves to me, marveling at how fresh they look despite awakening before dawn. My own eyes are still half closed. We navigate the corridors until we reach the clearing leading out to the river.
There’s a scenic path along the river that Sebastian ran along the last time the House of Splendor visited the city. For the most part, the major Houses occupy their own lands throughout Erawind and only visit the city on formal occasions. Members of the minor Houses don’t own their own land, but work on the land of major Houses. I hate the social division although I’m painfully aware that I never would have been friends with Baelen if my mother didn’t work in the House of Rath.
Now, I pause with the river on my left until I sense movement a short distance behind us. Perfect timing.
“Run.” My command is quiet in the stillness and my ladies move, fluid and graceful around me. “Three file, please. Jordan to my outer right.”
My guards split into three lines, with me in the middle of the central one. It’s easy for them to reform the protective circle if they need to. Each pace-keeper at the front will move to the back of the line after five minutes, sharing the responsibility for keeping us in unison.
I don’t look at her, but I sense Jordan’s eyes on me for a moment as she obeys me and moves to the line on my right, closest to the grass at the edge of the path. If the male elves want to pass us, they will have to move right by her.
For a minute, I sink into the rhythm of movement, the river sparkling to our left, the grassy slopes glittering with dew.
A moment later, the heavier footsteps of male elves reach us. While we run with quiet stealth, they sing as they run, making their presence known. I close my eyes for a moment because there’s nothing quite so gorgeous as the unguarded harmony of male elves singing. While the House of Reverie is known for its ability to cultivate plants, the House of Splendor is known for its voices.
“Spin gold, shelter silver,” they sing. It’s a warrior’s song that can adapt to any context. Right now, spinning gold is about welcoming the rising sun, and sheltering silver is a tribute to the waning moon. In battle, the meaning is far more gruesome: spill blood and bury the enemy.
They veer out from behind us onto the grass. Our identities are concealed in the dim light but our silhouettes make it clear we’re female.
As they draw level with us, their harmony becomes respectful of our gender. “Welcome the light, and honor the life-giver.”
The House of Splendor is also known for being more progressive than the other Houses, encouraging its females to take up positions traditionally reserved for males. It’s particularly prosperous as a result. I can’t help but smile as the males speed up to draw level with us and then slow to match our pace. The expanse beside the river is wide enough to accommodate multiple jogging groups.
One of the males breaks off from his group, jogging closer to Jordan. It’s hard to see, but elves in the House of Splendor have very pale eyes, reflective like a cat’s, and I’m sure I recognize the unusual silver-green of Sebastian Splendor’s.
I know it’s him when Jordan tilts her head and gives him a formal nod. He does the same and settles into stride with her. The male elves sing about gold and silver again, but Sebastian’s voice is louder than the others when he sings the next verse. “She is worth more than both.”
They may not be able to speak to each other, but he found a way to tell her he still loves her. For the first time in days, my heart swells. There’s not a lot I can do to control my own destiny, but I’m determined that my friend will find happiness.
We run together for the next thirty minutes until the sun breaks across the horizon. In this formation—and because my Storm Command rotates on and off duty—it’s easy for the males to assume that I’m not with them. Now that the sun is rising, that illusion will be hard to maintain.
I don’t need to signal Jordan for her to know this. As soon as the sky brightens, she calls for the Storm Command to break away from the males, turning as a group and cutting across the slope to take the shortcut back to my quarters.
As I turn away from the sun, a shadow passes across it. I squint back to identify it. I shake my head. Just a bird.
Once we’re back on the main path, the elves form a protective circle around me again.
“I’m not as fit as I thought I was,” I say, raising some eyebrows. “I think we should start the day with a run tomorrow too.”
Jordan smiles. “Thank you, Princess.”
I shake my head at her. “I wish you’d call me by my name.”
She grins. “One day, Princess.”
When we reach the War Room to begin my training, Elise is waiting for us. She’s the only thing I recognize in the room. The members of my Storm Command who stayed behind from the morning run have been busy transforming the space into a training center. My jaw drops at what they’ve achieved. Shelves full of wooden weapons rest against the walls. There are mats everywhere, climbing equipment, and archery targets.
Elise steps forward.
“Anything?” I ask her, hoping she’ll understand that I’m asking whether she’s found out anything about the curse.
“Not yet. But I found an answer to the problem of touching you while you train. I’ve cast a shielding spell over each member of your Storm Command. It cloaks their skin and places an invisible barrier between you. They will be able to touch you without making any real contact.”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“It’s not easy to conjure and it wears off. You have three hours at most, but I suggest you keep it to two hours just to be safe.”
I turn to Jordan. “Is that long enough?”
“It’s probably for the best. You can’t be too tired to face the Storm this afternoon.”
I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot of training to catch up on. The last time I fired an arrow was, well, far too long ago.
When I argue, Elise steps in. “You can’t take any chances today.”
Her words are pointed. I haven’t forgotten the storm’s power yesterday. It feels like a lifetime ago that the storm spoke to me. So much has happened since. But I can’t forget that the storm is getting stronger.
Jordan’s posture changes. She transforms into relentless trainer mode right before my eyes. “Are you ready, Princess?”
I say, “More than ready.”
5
The barrier between my skin and theirs works a little too well.
Fighting my Storm Command feels the same as fighting pieces of wood. It’s not like touching living, breathing creatures. On the positive side, I stop seeing my ladies as elves. I stop worrying about hurting them the way I’ve been trained to fear hurting others ever since I became the Princess.
By the end of the week, one day before the Heartstone Ceremony, Jordan has beaten any remaining fear or uncertainty out of me. I’ve also discovered my weapon of choice.
As ten female elves surround me, I see only targets.
The blows come lightning fast, but I feint left, right, duck and slide, retrieving my wooden staff from the ground several feet away. I return to my feet, swinging my weapon at foot level while I’m down.
As the wooden staff sweeps the ground, two of my Storm Command are swept from their feet with it. I quickly follow up with whip-like blows to both their torsos, forcing them down as I leap upward. Three more are upon me but I shove the weapon at one, hearing the air leave her lungs, as I quickly withdraw it and swing it left at the other, connecting with a crack against her ribs. I kick out at the one approaching from my right, losing myself to the rhythm of the fight.
I leap and spin to avoid the next dagger, the next sword, using the staff to disarm and attack at the same time. I love how much distance it gives me, keeping my attackers at bay and if they get too close, I use my legs to force them backward.
One of them decides to fight fire with fire, coming at me with her own wooden staff. The two weapons thud and crack against each other, back and
forth as we continue to avoid each other’s attacks. An arrow whistles in from the side and I deflect it, vaguely aware that there are only two other females still standing. I jab the staff left, but don’t give it everything. The female avoids my attack by feinting right but I’m too quick for her, casting my weapon in that direction before she can adjust. It connects with her shoulder with a savage thud and she stumbles backward.
The final two females race at me at once, swords in hand, one ducking under the staff, the other flying upward. I rotate left, my weapon passing between them, but I’m already spinning it. It catches the leaping elf across her legs, knocking her off course and the second across her cheek, cracking against her head so loudly it jars me back to the present.
I drop my weapon and race to her. “Are you okay?”
Every one of my ten Storm Commanders lies on the ground. They alternate between wincing and grinning at me. Laughter and clapping follow from the ones who have found it as far up as their knees.
The one I clobbered in the head rubs her scalp, but she’s smiling. “Nothing a bit of ice won’t fix, Princess. It’s an honor to have fought you.”
I spin to Elise, still concerned, but she nods. “The cloaking spell protects them from wounds as well as touch. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”
I exhale and help the female to her feet. “I think I’ve gotten a bit too strong.”
Jordan jumps to her feet from where she stood on the sidelines. She wears a giant grin. “There’s no such thing as too strong. Well done, Princess. We’ll train again after the Heartstone Ceremony, but only when you’re not needed for the protocols.”
I bite my tongue before I tell her that I won’t be able to train again at all. “Thank you for helping me regain my skills.”
I help pack up the weapons. Then I have time to visit Mai at the healing center one last time before I have to head to the Storm Vault. The good news is that she’s doing much better. A golden sphere rests on her stomach: the spellcasters devised it as a way to capture the Storm’s remnant energy and draw it safely out of her. They promise me she will be better in a week but she won’t be able to attend the ceremony tomorrow.
On the way out of the healing center, Elise creates a sound barrier around her and me. She’s grown more and more subdued as the week progressed and I expect her to tell me that she has no new information—more than anything I want her to tell me that a curse isn’t even possible. All of me hopes that’s true.
She gestures at the sky. “The magic that holds our home together is deep magic; the kind that existed at the beginning of time. The ecosystem around us isn’t created by spells made up of words and spellcasting, but by the ancient magic of creation. It’s only through the deepest magic that our world can exist between layers of the Earth.”
She studies the sky for so long that I prompt her. “What is it Elise? I doubt you intend to give me a history lesson right now.”
She wraps her hair behind her ear. “I made a mistake, Princess. When I was searching for a curse, I looked in the spell books—even in the Heartstone Protocols—and I found nothing. I convinced myself it wasn’t possible. I didn’t want to believe that the curse could be something far worse.”
“Now you’re scaring me.”
“A curse shouldn’t be possible because the Heartstone Protocols can’t be breached. As soon as a champion hands you his family’s heartstone, the protective spells wipe clean any previous spells cast over him and prevent any new ones being placed. It’s created that way so that a champion can’t win by casting spells over himself. But… the protocols don’t protect against deep magic. They can’t.”
My heart sinks. “You’re telling me the curse is made from deep magic? But deep magic can’t be countered.”
She nods. “It would be like trying to stop the sun from shining. The curse may as well be sunlight—”
“More like death-light…”
“—shining around the champions. When the final protocol is complete and your husband is chosen, the curse will activate in the same way that our sun rises.”
“Then nothing can stop it.”
“Only you can,” she says.
I miss a step. “How?”
“You have to kill him before he kills you.”
If there was any lingering doubt in my mind about fighting for myself, it disappears with those words. Now more than ever, I’m determined that no male will claim me.
“Wake up, Princess.” Jordan whispers to me from the far side of the bed. She’s already opened the skylight.
I untangle myself from the sheets as I squint at her.
I bolt upright. Today is the Heartstone Ceremony.
Before I give in to the panic rising inside me, Jordan leans forward, grinning like an elven cat. “We have a surprise for you.”
I slide out of bed, my dressing gown trailing behind me but she gestures for me to stop in the middle of the room.
“Close your eyes.”
I lift an eyebrow, but I trust her. I place both hands over my eyes. There’s a click as the door opens. I sense footsteps, light, female, at least five… no, more than ten. There’s a dragging sound too, like something being pushed across the floor.
All sounds stop. “Can I open my eyes now?”
There’s a pause. Then, “Yes.”
I open my eyes to find that all of my Storm Command has squeezed into the space around me. Some of them sit on the bed and others stand in the doorway to the bathing room to make room for all twenty to fit into my room.
I catch my breath at the object they’ve pushed in front of me. It’s a dummy like the ones from the War Room… and it’s covered in armor.
I take a step forward, running my hand over it. Fine gold-colored plates are connected together in an intricate pattern to form a chest plate that wraps around the dummy from neck to groin. Plates have also been fashioned to cover the outer thighs and shoulders. Beneath it, a full body suit of silvery-blue material shimmers from beneath the dummy’s chin down to its toes.
I spin to Jordan. “Are those Shimmer Beetle husks? And the suit under the armor—is it made from Elyria spider web?”
She hasn’t stopped grinning. “Yes and yes. It’s for you. We’ve been constructing it for the last seven years. It took that long to source enough of the web and husks.”
The suit under the outer layer is spun from the web of the Elyria spider, whose web is unbreakable even by the sharpest sword, and the plates are fashioned from the golden husks that the shimmer beetle sheds only once each year. The husks are as tough as iron but light as feathers.
I don’t even bother trying to hide my tears. They drip down my cheeks in fat rivers. “It’s not metal so it won’t interact with the storm. I can wear it even when I’ve come from the Vault.”
I’m surprised it only took them seven years to make the armor because both animals are extremely rare and only live in the highest peaks behind the…
I freeze.
“But they only live on Rath land. You can’t take anything from another House’s land unless you pay or trade for it.”
Jordan shifts uncomfortably beside me. “We didn’t have to pay. We had permission. In fact… it was an order.”
“From whom?”
“From the late Commander Rath. Baelen Rath’s father.”
So much shock slams into me that it’s like a physical force. I teeter backward to sit on the bed while the Storm Command rushes to make room for me.
“Rordan Rath ordered you to make this? Why?”
I shake my head in disbelief. Baelen Rath’s father avoided me, never spoke to me, hated me as far as I knew.
“He came here a month after you were officially announced as Princess. He stood outside your door, sort of just staring at it. I wasn’t sure what to do but he finally asked how you were. I told him the truth: that you were still recovering, that you hadn’t said much, and…”
She glances at me and there’s sympathy in her eyes before she goes on. “I to
ld him you were still having nightmares.”
I shudder, take a deep breath. “And?”
“He said he knew he could give me orders, but that he was only going to give me one. He said that I was to send the Storm Command every fall and spring to collect the abandoned Shimmer husks and Elyria webs from the highest peaks on Rath land and that I was to fashion them into a suit of armor for you to wear.”
I swipe at the tears still swimming in my eyes. “I don’t understand why.”
She drops to her knees on the floor in front of me while the Storm Command watches on. “He said one last thing that might shed light on his actions: he said his son’s sacrifice had to be for something and he was damned if he wasn’t going to do everything he could to protect you.”
I drop my head into my hands. Tears stream between the cracks in my fingers. Baelen Rath’s father had forgiven me. I’d never expected such mercy.
I make a decision. I’m pretty sure it’s a rash one, but it feels like the right thing to do.
I speak into the quiet room. “Baelen Rath is going to offer me his family’s heartstone today. If his life is threatened at any time during the trials, I order you to protect him in the same way you would protect me.”
My announcement is met with shocked silence. Nobody moves.
Jordan remains kneeling in front of me. She jolts back on her hands like I just struck her. “But Princess…”
“I know what I’m saying, Jordan.”
I hold my hand up to stifle any argument. Then I stand, smoothing down my dress. “You all need to be on full alert. These won’t be ordinary trials.”
I close the gap to the armor. “You’ve made me proud, each and every one of you. Thank you all for this gift.”
I smile at the glimmering suit. I’m about to put it to good use.
6