Dark Breaks the Dawn

by Sara B. Larson

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  MAP

  EPIGRAPH

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  COPYRIGHT

  This one is for Elisse—my favorite ballet studio owner in the whole

  world. You’ve always supported me, cheered for me, and read for me

  (often more than once) at the drop of a hat and at lightning speed. Chasing

  our dreams together hasn’t always been easy, but it has been worth it.

  An eon of peace, a world of joy,

  Until it was shattered, by one foul boy,

  A youngling at sixteen, Drystan his name,

  For the first blood spilt, came his dark fame.

  Banished he was, with followers in tow,

  Power taken, as the final blow.

  But cursed we were, immortality lost,

  For the deeds he did, this was the cost.

  Take heed, and follow not his path,

  Or curse be restored, and removed, that we hath.

  Peace is required, for life to thrive,

  Those who seek power, from our shores we must drive.

  Balance is required, such a thin knife,

  That binds us all, and gives us life.

  —DRAÍOLON NURSERY RHYME

  THE JEWELED FOREST BLURRED INTO A TAPESTRY OF color as Evelayn sprinted away from the castle. She whipped past the trees and bushes as though she was made from the wind that pushed at her back. The sentries unlucky enough to have been assigned to guard her—or, more accurately, to trail her—on these early morning runs were already falling behind, their harsh breathing cutting across the gray-tinged stillness of dawn.

  Good, she couldn’t help but think, as she kicked up her heels and pushed herself even harder. What she really wanted right now was to be alone, something nearly impossible to achieve. Inside the castle, on the grounds, even with just her sentries, she knew her duty. She knew the part she had to play. The queen had taught her well.

  But she’d jerked awake this morning after yet another nightmare, only to realize that nothing had changed. Evelayn had found it harder than ever to don the mask that she was usually so adept at summoning. The queen must always appear calm, unruffled. Your subjects will look to you; your actions will determine theirs. Her mother’s words, and Evelayn had lived by them her whole life. After all, she would be the queen one day. Hopefully in the very distant future.

  But what kind of queen would she be without her full power?

  Evelayn’s lungs burned hot for a moment, her throat went raw with suppressed emotion. Her sentries were no longer visible—or audible—but still she struggled for control. It was all she knew; it was her only defense against the rising panic.

  Because it was her eighteenth birthday and nothing had changed.

  She hadn’t planned on running today, but after pacing in her room for a few minutes, Evelayn couldn’t stand the silence or the tightness in her belly any longer. She’d pulled her lavender-streaked hair into a ponytail, yanked on her soft, supple running boots, and splashed water on her pale face. Evelayn had tried not to scowl at the dark circles beneath her violet eyes when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Too many sleepless nights, worrying about the war. Worrying about her mother.

  Queen Ilaria had promised she’d return from the warfront for Evelayn’s birthday and the ceremony that was to take place that night. Evelayn could only hope her mother was going to keep that promise. She didn’t want to see another Draíolon, didn’t want to talk to anyone, except her mother.

  Without even realizing it, she’d run north of the castle, skirting the city of Solas, heading for the high ground that would enable her to watch for her mother’s arrival. It was a longer run than normal, and Tyne, her lady-in-waiting, would certainly be concerned, upset even, if she came to Evelayn’s room and found it empty … but certainly she was at least allowed this, wasn’t she? A brief escape as she tried to come to grips with the fact that her full power hadn’t manifested—that something was wrong with her. The future queen of Éadrolan.

  The morning had grown lighter above her when Evelayn glanced up; in fact, she realized that if she squinted, the first rays of the sunrise were beginning to streak across the sky to the east, above the treetops. And then, in the infinitesimal break between one heartbeat and the next, something slammed into her. It felt as though her body had turned to flame, scorching her from within.

  For the first time in her entire life her conduit stone burned in her breastbone.

  Evelayn instinctively skidded to a halt, throwing out her hands to protect herself, expecting only the small burst of light she’d been capable of creating since she was a youngling. But instead, a ball of flame erupted from her right hand and a jet of light from the left. The light tore through the lush earth, leaving behind a black gash, and the fireball exploded against a nearby tree with an earth-shattering boom.

  Evelayn slapped her hands over her ears with a howl of pain and blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the sudden tears from the onslaught of light and color and scent and everything. Until that moment she had existed in a world trapped by the pale, watery shades of dawn and had suddenly been thrust into the light of noon-day sun at Summer Solstice. Slowly the initial heat and shock of it all ebbed away, but the changes remained.

  The blanket she’d always known was there, subduing her senses, had been pulled away. But no matter how many times she’d been taught about the block placed on all younglings’ magic, no matter how often she’d been told what to expect on her eighteenth birthday, nothing could have prepared her for this. This was what Éadrolan truly looked like? Smelled like? Sounded like? She’d known it would be different, but this …

  Evelayn slowly turned in a circle, letting her hands drop to her sides, allowing the sounds—there were so many sounds—to wash over her, to fill her. She inhaled deeply, trying to identify the myriad scents she’d never noticed before. Beneath the acrid smell of the tree she’d burnt, the perfume of the flowers surrounding her was so much headier than she’d ever realized; the musk of the earth beneath her feet was so much denser, more complex … And the colors. Oh, the colors. Details she hadn’t known were physically possible to see until that moment blurred as tears filled her eyes. This time, Evelayn didn’t fight them. She’d never been so overwhelmed in her whole life, except perhaps when her mother had returned from that first battle nearly a decade ago without her father. But that had been a stunned, bone-deep grief. This was … disbelief mingled with indescribable awe.

  An unfamiliar scent—something citrusy and spicy all at once—caught her attention moments bef
ore she realized the soft thumping sounds she could hear were a Draíolon running through the forest. Evelayn spun in dismay just as a male burst through the trees to the north of her, his amber eyes flickering to the still-smoking tree and the black gash in the ground before returning to hers.

  “Where are they? Who did this? Are you hurt?” His rapid succession of questions made her flinch and the concern on his face grew even more pronounced. “I can help you—I’ve just come from the warfront and I know quite a bit about tending to wounds. Where are you injured?”

  Evelayn’s dismay churned into an even darker emotion—mortification. “No,” she managed to get out. She stumbled back when he moved toward her. With her heightened senses she noticed things about him she never would have seen so quickly before. The traces of gold in his amber eyes that matched the hint of gold in his skin, the richness of his bark-brown hair. And the sudden tang on the air that she was fairly certain was coming from him, as it mingled with the citrusy scent she’d already perceived.

  “No? You’re not hurt? Or no, you don’t want my help?” He paused with his arm slightly outstretched.

  Evelayn fought to keep her hands still at her sides, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her wipe her still-damp cheeks. Her blood ran hot with humiliation. He obviously didn’t realize who she was, based on how he’d addressed her—or rather, the lack of propriety in his address. Perhaps she could escape before he discovered her identity and realized this disoriented wreck of a girl was—

  “I must insist on lending my assistance. I’ve seen this many times—you’re in shock. If you will allow me—”

  “I’m not hurt,” Evelayn cut him off, drawing upon every ounce of training to don her most imperious voice and regal expression … despite the mess she certainly must have appeared to be. “Thank you for your offer, but I will bid you a good morning and let you continue on your way.”

  The Draíolon male’s eyes narrowed and she had the suspicion he didn’t believe her for one second. Before he could protest yet again, Evelayn whirled, prepared to dash away, just as she noticed her sentries finally heading toward her, their eyes wide as they took in, first, the destruction and then the strange male. They must have been truly lost to have only found her now, but it couldn’t have been worse timing.

  “Your Highness, what ha—”

  “Let’s head back, shall we?” Evelayn called out loudly the moment her sentry spoke, hoping to drown out his words. But her newly acute hearing didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath behind her.

  Evelayn waited no longer. With a silent prayer that the Draíolon who had errantly attempted to come to her aid would never tell another soul how he’d witnessed the crown princess of Éadrolan lose all control in the forest that morning, she kicked up her heels and sprinted past her sentries yet again.

  It wasn’t until she’d made it back to the castle that she realized she’d never reached the lookout point to see if her mother had kept her promise or not.

  EVELAYN HAD ONLY BEEN BACK IN HER ROOM FOR A FEW moments, trying to compose herself, when she heard the whisper-soft movement of Tyne’s hushed footsteps coming down the hall. Before her lady-in-waiting even opened the door, Evelayn caught the faint scent of roses and the mouthwatering aroma of her breakfast.

  Tyne’s brief knock at her door seemed abnormally loud, making Evelayn jump.

  “Good morning, Princess,” Tyne said as she bustled into the room from the adjoining chamber. There was a glimmer—a depth—to the rose color of her skin that Evelayn had never noticed before. Tyne bore a tray laden with a mug of mint tea, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a berry scone drizzled with honey—Evelayn’s favorite. She gave the princess a quick once-over, her eybrows lifting at Evelayn’s sweat-and-tear-streaked appearance. But all she said was, “How does it feel to come into your full power?”

  Evelayn hesitated for a moment, not sure how to put it into words, then finally said, “Different.”

  Tyne shot her a conspiratorial smile as Evelayn finished unlacing her boots, pulled them off, and padded over to the table by the large eastern-facing window where her lady-in-waiting had set down the tray.

  “You’ll grow accustomed to it soon—then you’ll wonder how you ever lived in such a dulled state before.” Tyne bustled over to pull back the curtains, letting the sunshine stream in. Evelayn flinched at the onslaught of light.

  “If you say so,” she murmured, cutting off a piece of the scone.

  “You’ll notice the difference during training, as well. General Kelwyn said to tell you he’s not giving you the day off.”

  Evelayn groaned as she lifted the cup of tea and took a sip. “Of course not. Because that might be perceived as preferential treatment, correct?”

  Tyne just gave her a look.

  “Fine. I’ll go to training.” She took another small bite of the scone, not looking up from the plate when she quietly asked, “Will I get to see my mother today?”

  There was a long pause and then: “I hope so.”

  Which meant Queen Ilaria still hadn’t returned to the castle from the warfront, just as Evelayn had feared. A flutter of nerves threatened to upset the bit of breakfast she’d already eaten, but she just nodded, still staring down at her food. “Thank you, Tyne. That will be all for now.”

  “But, Your Highness, your dress—”

  “That’s all for now,” Evelayn repeated.

  “Of course. Call for me when you’re ready.”

  Only after she heard the click of the door shutting did Evelayn glance over her shoulder to make sure she was truly alone. And then she stood up and crossed to the other window, the one that faced north, where far away on the border of Éadrolan and Dorjhalon—the Light and Dark kingdoms—war raged. A war that had lasted for over a decade, with heavy casualties on both sides, including Evelayn’s father, the king of Éadrolan.

  She looked out toward the horizon, past the castle grounds, past the Dawn Temple, where the priestesses who weren’t at the border upholding the wards that protected them from invasion lived and trained, past the city that was built to the northwest of the castle, where so many of the royal court and nobles dwelled, to the glimmering forest that stretched all the way to the border. Somewhere out there, her mother was fighting alongside her armies, trying to stop King Bain.

  Evelayn had begged her not to go on the most recent campaign, since her birthday was coming up, but the queen had sworn she’d be back in time to celebrate with her. Her mother had never missed one of her birthdays before, and this was such an important one. The ball honoring Evelayn coming into her full power was to take place that night—it was to be the social event of the year, possibly even the century. It had been longer than that since a true royal had turned eighteen and had a celebration, not since Queen Ilaria’s own, 105 years ago.

  “You promised,” Evelayn whispered to the clear glass that allowed her to watch her people hurrying about their busy lives below, while she stood in her room, fighting back tears, afraid that there could only be one reason her mother would break her word.

  The midday sun was hot enough to make a Dark Draíolon sweat, since they thrived on the cooler weather of fall and winter, but Evelayn welcomed the warmth and the extra boost of power it meant for her and her people, as she walked out to the practice fields where Kelwyn waited with a couple of other Draíolon. When they saw her approaching, they all bowed—which she hated. But every time she told them to stop doing it, Kel would lecture her on proper decorum for someone of her station.

  “Many happy wishes for this special day, my princess,” he said as he and the other two Draíolon straightened.

  She had to squint in the sun, still becoming accustomed to her heightened senses. Evelayn recognized the first Draíolon—a female Light Sentry whose name she believed was Dela; they’d been at a few training sessions together. But when she turned to meet the bemused gaze of the male Draíolon, her heart stuttered in her chest, her pleasant smile nearly slipping from her face. In the full
light of day, his skin was the color of sunshine, and now his hair was tied back from his face, but it was those same inquisitive amber eyes she immediately recognized.The combination of citrus and spice mingled with Kelwyn’s crisp scent of verbena and mint and the female sentry’s lilac.

  What was the Draiolon from the forest doing here at the castle—at her training?

  “Thank you,” Evelayn responded, turning back to Kelwyn, lifting her chin slightly, and adopting the mask she used whenever she wanted to hide what she was truly thinking. Years of practice served her well in that moment, as she could still feel the male Draíolon’s eyes on her. Please let him keep our encounter this morning to himself, she sent up a silent plea before asking, “What will we be working on today?”

  “Have you attempted to access your power yet this morning?” Kel returned her question with one of his own.

  “A little.” Evelayn didn’t dare look at the male when she answered, not wanting to admit to any of them what had happened in the forest at dawn. She hadn’t tried anything since, choosing instead to wait until the last possible moment to call for Tyne to help her pin up her long hair and lace up the back of her training outfit—supple leather pants and boots, a soft, close-fitting white shirt, and an over-vest made of the same leather as the pants. Usually, only Dark Draíolon favored wearing leather and other warmer clothing, while the Light Draíolon mainly stuck to flowing fabrics; but when it came to training they, too, wore leathers to protect their bodies. “What are we going to work on today?” she repeated, trying to move past the subject of how she’d spent her morning.

  Kel studied her for a long moment as she struggled not to squirm beneath his searching gaze. Royalty didn’t squirm—even when being scrutinized by someone as intimidating as Kelwyn. She noticed flecks of brown in his moss-green eyes that she’d never noticed before, the same color of newly tilled earth as his skin and hair. He and her father had trained together as younglings before Kel joined the Light Sentries and Drystan had become king of Éadrolan. Kel had been her father’s closest friend and most trusted sentry, so there was no question who the queen wanted to train her daughter, despite Kel’s wish to remain on the front lines of the war. But she’d insisted, so Kel was at the castle, training the princess for the next few months, while Evelayn’s mother led her troops into battle against King Bain—most likely causing her to miss her daughter’s birthday.