Palace of Silver

by Hannah West

  “Have you received any correspondences from Erdem recently?” I asked with a forced tone of nonchalance. I spooned some soup, almost too distracted to appreciate its flavors.

  He shook his head. “No. But we do need to reply to Myron’s invitation to visit Perispos during their upcoming religious celebration. We’ve sat on it for weeks.”

  I had grown up knowing Erdem’s neighbors in Perispos practiced the Agrimas religion, but I struggled to believe in something that could not be proven. Here in Nissera, magic itself took the place of religion: it was ancient, revered, coveted, and feared. Instead of prayers, people found comfort in spells and charms.

  Likewise, most Erdemese citizens collectively shrugged at organized religion, much to the chagrin of the nearby Perispi. Many believed that kind deeds would ensure prosperity in the afterlife, but we exalted our lore and family histories more than any moralizing texts.

  “We declined Myron’s last invitation,” Fabian said. “Should I tell him the truth, that you dread sea travel?”

  “No,” I sighed. “We’ll ask to use Valory’s portal box when she returns from answering that distress call.”

  “I can kindly refuse, if you’d like.”

  “But should you?” I asked, searching his slate-gray eyes. The bone structure of his suntanned face was so refined that he seemed chiseled of stone. The physical tasks of seafaring that he so enjoyed had carved lean strength into his frame. For years I’d tried so earnestly to admire his physique the way I’d felt I was meant to.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My mother would have known.”

  I reached over the platters and gripped his hand. “She and your father would both be proud of how we’ve handled ourselves.”

  “No, they would be proud of you, Kadri,” he said. “Of your bravery.”

  Squeezing tighter, I tried to infuse him with confidence that he had been wholly forgiven—by me, by the others, by his parents before they died.

  “I should have been here,” he whispered. “I failed everyone.”

  “You didn’t know,” I assured him, as I had so many times since I’d returned to him.

  Both were true: he had failed, and he hadn’t done so knowingly.

  The rogue wave had been one of the first harbingers of the Moth King’s rise last year. It had crashed ashore during Fabian’s birthday celebration, which took place aboard his anchored ship in the bay. Fabian had acted nobly, intending to sacrifice his life to save others, until a mysterious girl saved his life at the final second.

  If the story had ended there, he would have remained a hero. But when the blight plague assaulted us from the other direction, he failed to understand that it marked the advent of an oppressive darkness. He had caught wind of the sickness that struck his city but underestimated its deadliness—and overestimated the old Realm Alliance’s power to squelch the crisis.

  Instead of taking bold initiative, he’d become infatuated with the girl who saved him and whisked her out to sea to avoid prying eyes. I could hardly blame him. I’d glimpsed her once and seen enchanting blue eyes, a coconut-milk complexion, and hair fairer than frosted glass. She disappeared when she learned Fabian planned to marry me. Later, I learned she was a sea maiden who had helped translate the lost language on the pearlescent tablet Devorian had broken. In exchange, she took a beautiful human form through the combination of Valory’s power and a sea witch’s magic.

  Fabian confided in me that her oddness and childlike demeanor had dashed his hopes for a passionate dalliance. He preferred more worldly-wise women.

  And I preferred he be a bit more discreet about his affairs.

  I hadn’t needed to flaunt his mistakes to rebuke him. His jarring homecoming from the sea had been rebuke enough. Not only did he return to a city in chaos, with both of his parents presumed dead and no Realm Alliance left standing; but I, his betrothed, appeared to have fled to Erdem for the sake of my safety.

  Now he knew the truth: I had nearly died facing down the evil he had failed to recognize as a threat until it was too late.

  Fabian squeezed my hand in return and offered a frail smile. “I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” I said playfully, and reached for a shrimp. “Oh, that’s divine. I think just a bit more cumin, don’t you? And seeing it now, I’d prefer the gold glass plates to the blue ones.”

  “How do you focus on these things?” Fabian asked, shaking his head. “I can’t seem to concentrate on anything constructive. Sometimes I sit in the study for hours, wondering how everything went so wrong and whether it could happen again.”

  A cool breeze rushed over us, tugging at the table linens and streaming my raven hair over my face. “Nissera has to move on,” I said, looking over the jewel-blue sea. “It has to heal. We’re the leaders now. We’re the ones who have to stitch everything together with smiles on our faces, no matter what challenges arise.”

  I resituated my wind-tossed skirt, and the corners of the folded letter pressed against my skin. “Speaking of challenges,” I continued. “I received a letter from Rayed. It contains less-than-ideal news.”

  “When did you start phrasing everything so diplomatically?”

  “When I was crowned queen and had no choice.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, popping a shrimp into his mouth. “What’s the matter?”

  “Our alliance with Erdem is under strain. They look at us and see unmitigated disasters, young and inexperienced leaders. If we don’t start thinking like your mother and father, we could lose the favor of Perispos too. The economic crisis Ambrosine and Mathis Lorenthi caused will be nothing compared to losing trade partners.”

  My tone intensified toward the end. The lenience the Realm Alliance showed Glisette’s sister and uncle had agitated me from the start. A prescient regret had haunted me during their hearings. But I let the others sentence them without speaking up. I stayed silent because Rayed had also made grave errors, which we had informally pardoned. His intentions were far more innocent, and anyone with half a heart could understand why Rayed helped the Calgoranian traitors—they had threatened my life if he refused.

  But one could also argue that Ambrosine and Mathis didn’t mean to cause any harm. In fact, they had argued that for themselves quite deftly. The pursuit of justice so easily became a slick slope into a valley of moral ambiguity.

  Thunderclouds passed through Fabian’s eyes. “So King Agmur does not respect us.”

  “He respects you. He says your claim to Yorth’s throne is the only inarguable one.”

  “It’s insulting,” he said, though he looked a tad relieved. “He should know better than to disregard elicromancers. Does he not know what we can do if our relations sour? Does he not fear us?”

  “Oh, Fabian,” I sighed, molding my hand to his cheek. “After what we’ve endured, can’t you concede that no elicromancer is invincible?”

  “Even Valory?” he asked.

  I swallowed hard and broke our gazes. “Probably even her. Regardless, the Realm Alliance cannot antagonize mortals, even mortals who insult us. We need to repair the relationship as best we can. Promise me you won’t do anything rash until we’ve spoken with the others?”

  He hesitated before nodding. I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. “I promise.”

  Excusing myself, I went inside, crossed the pearlescent and bronze tiles of the banquet hall, and journeyed upstairs to my suite, adjacent to Fabian’s for appearance’s sake. It was large and resplendent, with embroidered silk cushions, sheer fabric dividers, and pierced metal lanterns reminiscent of typical Erdemese décor.

  I glanced to make sure Falima wasn’t there before I approached the jewelry case on my vanity, opened the bottom drawer, and removed the wooden slat concealing a silk-lined compartment.

  My violet-and-blue elicrin stone winked at me from its hiding spot.

  Withdrawing the crystal-like gem by its gold chain, I stuffed the letter from Rayed in its place. Fabian could never learn a
bout the king of Erdem’s invitation.

  I didn’t used to have so many secrets. Just one, which I had never guarded closely. Fabian and I were content to let people see what they wished when they looked at us. Some saw a happy couple in love, yet others surely saw a royal man-boy chasing skirts while his wife suffered in silence. Some believed we were simply willing to share our intense romantic love with others. And some knew the truth: we were friends who had struck a beneficial bargain.

  Our union was an act of diplomacy. The engagement had pleased his parents, and I didn’t mind Fabian’s dalliances with beautiful girls so long as they didn’t jeopardize my status. I would be able to assist my people as queen, and Fabian would not force me to perform any duties I did not wish to. We were each other’s shields from excessive scrutiny, from people trying to dictate our lives and futures. It wasn’t so much a secret or a lie as an innocent omission of the truth.

  But this—accepting an elicrin stone from Valory—was a secret. A heavy one, which I both feared and relished.

  Immortality. Status. Equality. That was what she had given me. She was now the steward of elicrin gifts, and she had confiscated this stone from an elicromancer who had abused her power.

  At first, I had rejected the stone. If she turned one mortal into an elicromancer, where would it stop? How many more mortals would come to her begging for power and eternal life?

  But Valory had insisted it was a simple, small gift: the gift of perfect marksmanship. Compared to others, it was trivial, and she had jested that my marksmanship was near perfect anyway.

  We both knew that the gift would make some things easier and others more complicated. And for that reason, I could not publicize my possession of it yet.

  The elicrin stone was slender, nearly cylindrical, and easier to hide than most. And Valory had taught me a concealing spell, though I wasn’t yet comfortable using it.

  I slipped on the chain and tucked the powerful jewel into my bodice, sheltering its warmth against my skin.

  THREE

  GLISETTE

  THE BRAZOR MOUNTAINS

  THE mountain air tasted of freedom, and the sharp-sweet aroma of pine needles and snow. A chilling breeze snaked up my sleeves and made me shiver with delight.

  When I opened my eyes after materializing from the palace, the late-morning sky over the Brazor Mountains was a canvas of periwinkle and ruby red, streaked with feather-thin clouds. I stood upon a ridge overlooking the vast fortress city of Darmeska, and the iron-and-glass monstrosity of a tower that loomed over it: the Moth King’s lair.

  It was an obscene imprint that a now-deceased oppressor had inflicted upon a graceful landscape—a reminder that one could overthrow evil, yet still reside in its shadow.

  I filled my lungs with the crisp wind and trod through the thawing spring snows toward a ledge. Settling down, I dangled my legs over the yawning chasm below. The danger of it made my blood course like a wild river through my veins, made me feel alive.

  But it wasn’t the only reason I came here. A strange sense of loss had lately carved out a pit between my ribs, and I’d found myself thinking wistfully of my adventures with Valory, Kadri, and Mercer. Before Devorian had unleashed the dormant tyrant on Nissera, I had hardly cared about anything besides my siblings and the luxuries we enjoyed as royalty.

  The quest had changed everything. It had awakened something within me, a sense of higher purpose. And while being queen of Volarre offered me that purpose, I couldn’t shed the trappings of my old life that had begun to chafe. I held court, heard petitions, received foreign dignitaries, signed decrees, and attended every Realm Alliance meeting in Yorth; yet at times, I felt less important to this realm than I had while tromping through the woods in filthy garments.

  “Interesting choice of retreat.”

  The familiar, deep voice made my already pounding heart quicken its cadence. I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw a lean, tall figure with sandy hair loping toward me: Mercer.

  The pang of delight I felt was something of a reflex. I’d fallen a bit in love with him over our journey, and for a month or so after its conclusion, I believed that the emptiness inside me was missing him, the wound of wanting what I could never have. But my feelings had ebbed and blurred, and I realized that the emptiness was something far more frightening than desire. I had discovered my truest, bravest self on that journey. And now I feared losing her.

  That was why I came here.

  As for my pattering heart and whirling butterflies, well…Mercer was just so viciously handsome, damn him. One of his eyes was as white as bone now, with a tiny black dot for a pupil, but somehow it hadn’t diminished his beauty.

  “I followed your materialization trail,” he explained, hunkering down next to me.

  “Then I suppose you arrived at the palace around the time the commotion began,” I said, propping my palms on the cool rock. “I’m surprised you made it inside without my people ripping that off,” I added, jerking my chin toward the dappled, gray-green elicrin stone hanging from a dingy cord around his neck.

  “I found another way in. Are you all right?”

  The question cut straight through my armor of dark humor. “Just a bit rattled,” I said with a slanted smile. “I think the mortals fail to understand that even if we gave up our elicrin stones, Valory would stay the same. She can’t give away what she is, not like we can. It’s better that the rest of us retain our power, in case she…” I trailed off, remembering that I was speaking to her lover.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “She and I have discussed the same thing. We’ve seen what power without accountability looks like. No one is capable of doing much to mitigate…” Now it was his turn to trail off. He sighed. “It’s strange to be back here. I can’t say I care for it.”

  “Why did you come? You would have seen me at the Realm Alliance gathering tomorrow.”

  Mercer looked at me, one eye warm golden brown, one shocking white. “I had a vision last night.”

  “Oh? Dreaming of me, are you?” I teased.

  “It was about your sister.”

  “Perennia?” The protective mother wolf in me raised her hackles in alarm.

  “No. Ambrosine.”

  I relaxed, tipping my head back so the morning sun could splash its warmth over my face. “Does the king of Perispos want to send her back on the fastest ship in his fleet?”

  “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But I’ve seen something more worrisome.”

  I arched a brow.

  He draped his forearms over his knees and gazed at the tower’s soaring height. “At first, I saw Ambrosine in a dim room.” He squinted, as though struggling to recall a fading memory. “There was an enormous mirror. Hours passed, and your sister stared into it without looking away.”

  “That sounds highly typical.”

  “She spoke to it,” he added.

  “To herself, you mean?”

  “She replied to unuttered questions and laughed at silence. It was as though someone was there, but I couldn’t see or hear anyone. I think you should go to Perispos.”

  “You expect me to neglect my crushing list of responsibilities to journey to a place beyond my materializing range because my elder sister won’t stop admiring herself in the mirror? She can do it forever for all I care. At least she’s not making anyone else’s life miserable like she was before.”

  “I know it sounds trivial, but it felt sinister.”

  “Weren’t you just saying a few weeks ago that your visions have been showing you several conflicting possibilities instead of one imminent future?”

  He nodded. “But it didn’t start then. I haven’t told Valory, but it started when she embraced the full power of the Water.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She’s a dynamic, unpredictable force in the world. It’s as if no future is set in stone.”

  “You think she’s that powerful?”

  “Don’t change the subject. My visions may be more confusing th
an ever, but I know without a doubt this one about Ambrosine was a warning.”

  I worried my lip. We had restricted Ambrosine’s use of magic to a brief list of approved spells and enchantments. She could brighten her elicrin stone to see in the dark, test her food and drink for poison, shield herself if someone tried to hurt her. The enchantment we placed on her stone before she departed would alert us if she tried to use it for anything else.

  “Could she defy her probation?” I asked. “Without using unsanctioned magic to remove the restrictions?”

  “You mean…without using dark elicromancy?” Mercer asked. “Do you think she would?”

  “Devorian has already shown a proclivity for forbidden magic. My siblings and I are ‘contumacious and curious,’ as our governess used to say. I wouldn’t be shocked if Ambrosine had found a way to break her probation.”

  “I don’t know.” He pursed his lips. “I wish I could tell you more. My visions don’t always—”

  “Yes, I know, they’re minimally helpful, quite persnickety, and getting worse every day.”

  Mercer grunted out a laugh. “Fair. Do you trust me enough to go merely because I’ve asked?”

  I slid a skeptical glance his way, pretending to consider, before rolling my eyes in resignation. “Yes. Why can’t I use Valory’s portal box?”

  “She hasn’t returned from answering that mysterious call for help. She’s so confident now that she just…left last week without telling me where she was going. I’m beginning to worry.”

  “Worry? About Valory Braiosa?” I asked.

  “Believe it or not,” he admitted.

  “She’ll be back soon. And meanwhile, when I get seasick, I’ll be thinking of you.”

  “As long as I’ve appeased my visions,” he said, rising to his feet.

  “What about the Realm Alliance meeting?” I asked, pushing myself up after him.

  “Send Devorian in your place. He’s wised up since he wreaked havoc on the realm.”

  “But I may need him as a translator. My Perispi is stale.”

  “You’ve bragged before that your Perispi is impeccable.”