by D. H. Dawson
‘Since the attack yesterday, I thought I’d brush up on my Underworld studies.’
Matthew bows his head. ‘Of course. Let me find you something. Won’t be a moment.’
I fidget with my hair while I wait, but he returns soon with a large, leatherbound book. ‘Where would you care to read, Princess?’
I indicate a close table. ‘This will do. Thank you for your assistance.’ A thought occurs to me. ‘Has anyone spoken to you about my lessons?’
Matthew takes a step away from the table to allow me to sit, hands folded behind his back. ‘No, Princess?’ Confusion raises his voice.
‘Oh.’ I had thought Mother would have prepared him, or at least told him. ‘My magic lessons with you?’
Surprise lights his green eyes. ‘Um. Forgive me, Your Highness, I’m not certain what you mean. Have I missed something?’
Perhaps yesterday’s events overpowered Mother’s usual organisational skills. ‘Yes, but through no fault of yours. My mother and I would like to name you my magical instructor. Do you accept?’
I watch in silent amusement as his mouth drops open in surprise, then he snaps it closed. ‘Me? I—Your Highness, I’m honoured, but I don’t think—’ He turns, looking for the Head of the Library, an old, grouchy man whose name I’ve forgotten. ‘Perhaps someone of more knowledge?’
‘My Mother saw your abilities, and I know you as a kinder person than’—I pause—‘your superior. I would like you.’ I lower my gaze. I shouldn’t demand he be my instructor. ‘Though, if you decline, that’s your decision, and you’ll face no repercussions.’ I turn to sit at my table, already heavy-hearted. Of course he won’t want to teach me. I can’t even summon a familiar, what use would it be? I lower myself into the seat and flip open the slightly dusty book.
Matthew moves to stand on the other side of the table, hands clasped neatly at his back. ‘Please forgive me. I was surprised. I—I have studied a long time under valuable tutelage. I would be greatly honoured to assist you, Your Highness, if you will still allow me.’
A smile tugs the edge of my mouth. I barely know this young man, but after the frightening morning I’ve had, it swells my heart with gratitude to know I’ll be around a familiar face. ‘Thank you, Matthew. You’ll need to meet with the King to be officially accepted.’
I don’t miss the startled widening of his eyes. Of course he’d be startled by that. Oh, yes, just go and ask the King, why not.
‘Certainly, Your Highness.’ He bows low. ‘Is there anything else I can get for you?’ He indicates the book.
‘No, that will be all.’ I lower my gaze to the book as he takes his leave. The book’s pages smell of ink and papyrus, musty and aged. I turn page after page, careful not to tear them. I don’t know exactly what it is I’m looking for. Something that will reassure me about my dreams—which may or may not be dreams? Something to give me answers about this power I should not have. I glance up and around, but those in the library give me a wide berth. Matthew busies himself by his desk, fielding questions and queries.
I flick through the book as I begin to grow hungry. I glance out the window. Soon I will be expected to arrive at my first lesson with Cristian. I hope he doesn’t shy away from me now. I don’t know how I’ll learn if he does. I purse my lips and glance down at the book. There’s nothing here I don’t already know. It tells us of the divide between the realms, of Underworld and Earth, of Knights and Shadows of the Dead, and Hades who rules them. Gaia, our spirit Mother, who granted us strength and power, and the Tree of Life which powers us.
I sigh and snap the book shut. There’s no special section for a witch who happens to have the power of fire. Perhaps I should look up curses, hexes, plagues? Whichever the case, if I want to break my fast before my lesson, I must leave now. I rise, and leave my table, the book to be put away. As I leave, I catch Matthew’s eye. He smiles at me and nods deeply.
I am glad he wants to be my instructor. If I can control and strengthen my Spirit power, perhaps that will temper this new power. I only hope I don’t use fire magic in his presence instead.
Chapter Five
Carmen
As promised, Isabella is waiting for me with Cristian, though the two are well apart in the field. A nice white table and chairs have been set up for her, and she sits with a maid holding an umbrella over her head, nibbling tiny sandwiches and drinking from a delicate teacup.
‘Good thing you’re never late, Princess.’ Izzy smirks and rises as I approach her first. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been sitting out here for five minutes already.’ She glances over at Cristian. He looks like a dark shadow against the bright morning light, his black hair and clothes stark against the green field. ‘He’s very quiet. Only acknowledged me. Didn’t come over to talk or anything.’ Izzy’s top lip pulls into a sneer.
I nudge her arm. ‘You’re doing it again. Don’t be so attention seeking. Leave him alone. He’s here to train me, not entertain you. Look.’ As we watch, he approaches a wooden stand, filled with weapons set up near him. He takes a short sword, holds it out for some reason, then twirls it about, thrusting it out occasionally, as though to stab at an invisible foe.
‘I don’t see why he can’t hold a sword and talk to me.’ Izzy pouts, and it makes her look like a child. I glance at the maidservant, a patient woman to put up with my friend. ‘What are you wearing?’ Isabella finally pays attention to me. The princess.
‘Something I can move in,’ I sneer back. It’s a relief to be in something like this after yesterday. I wave her away, indicating she sit back down. It’s only as I turn to Cristian that I notice the guards.
‘What are you doing out here?’ I ask Patrick.
Patrick’s orange brow hitches. ‘Princess, it’s my job to keep you safe. This human might be your trainer now, but if anything happens to you, he’ll have me to deal with.’
‘He’s teaching me to fight. I can’t have him too nervous to do so on pain of, well, you. Back up. Don’t look at me like that, no sword can easily hurt me, your princess isn’t as fragile as you may think.’
Patrick bows. ‘No offence intended.’ He nods to his guard, who disperse a little.
I approach Cristian, and he stops his sword-swinging and straightens, then bows. ‘Your Royal Highness.’
If I weren’t a princess, I’d apologise for being late. But I am. I raise my arms a little. ‘I hope this is suitable attire.’
Cristian looks up at me from slightly under his hair, those deep blue eyes appraising me and my outfit. ‘I suppose. If you can move,’ he says stiffly. He beckons me over to the weapons stand. ‘I’ve spoken with the King and have a good idea of what he wants you to learn.’ Cristian indicates the smallest dagger I’ve ever seen and points at it. ‘Please take up this one.’
It’s no longer than my hand. I raise my brow. ‘That could scarcely harm anything.’
Cristian pauses and looks at me. He’s only—damn it. He is a human, and not a Highborn, so what authority does he now have over me? As my instructor, it’s pretty clear he should tell me what to do in regard to training and weaponry, but will he really start from the very basics? ‘Please, Princess.’
Tiberius has fought—well, trained—with better weapons than anything on this stand. I pick up the tiny, useless knife begrudgingly. Cristian’s gaze finds the guards as he looks around nervously. ‘You seem worried,’ I say.
Cristian smiles nervously. ‘If I harm you, I’ll hang.’
I toss the tiny blade away and pick up a slim, full-length sword. ‘I am a witch. Steel won’t easily harm me. And how will I train if you do not fight me?’ Looking down the length of the blade, I remember his injury. Will he be able to fight at all?
Cristian’s lip curves as he watches me. He says nothing, but raises his sword. ‘Have you ever duelled before, Princess?’
‘No. I was not allowed, as I am the heir.’
‘Today, you are allowed. Imagine I am an enemy.’
> I’m about to open my mouth to say that he is not. Not only is he a very fragile human, he is one of my people. I clamp my mouth shut. That is not the point, Carmen. I raise my sword and he slowly moves forward, his own raised. If his injury is impacting him, he doesn’t show it. He touches his sword with mine and bows his head.
‘An enemy would not bow to me.’
Cristian looks up. ‘Habit.’ He raises his sword. ‘I will tell you what I’m about to do, so that you have time to prepare and act accordingly.’
I try not to roll my eyes. I am a Spirit witch, particularly gifted with clairvoyance. I know exactly what he’s going to do, but as a new teacher, I let him do what pleases him. He raises his sword, instructs that he will turn and swing at me, and asks that I block him. He speaks to me as though I’m no older or wiser than my little brother. I hold my sword easily, and as he turns, I barely have to raise it to block his ‘attack’.
‘Good. Remember to keep your feet shoulder-width apart for the best balance and stance.’
Put you in that monster of a dress and test your balance, I think spitefully as I widen my stance.
Cristian nods. ‘Very good, Princess.’ He goes on to explain that he’ll repeat the first move, but then twist, and strike again.
I stifle a yawn. I don’t see what I had to be nervous about. Why isn’t he teaching me to fight? Aside from my power, this is like a test with all the answers set beside me. I’ll learn nothing this way. I move lazily to deflect the blows that wouldn’t hurt a rabbit, and glare at him.
‘Have I done something amiss, Princess?’
‘I dislike this. I am here to learn how to fight. Teach me.’
‘I am, Princess. This is how I learnt how to fight from my father. It takes practice and patience.’
I drop my sword on the ground and reach out and grasp the blade of his.
Cristian gasps, eyes wide. ‘What are you—?’
Patrick and the Helmets step forward, but I raise my other hand, then open the one clamped around the blade. I show Cristian. There is no injury. ‘I am not as weak as you believe, and I’ll thank you not to treat me as such.’
The surprise is wiped from his face, in a flash, replaced by contempt, resentment. ‘Above being harmed, are you, Princess?’
I raise by brows at his daring words. ‘Not entirely, but more so than you.’ I nod to his shoulder. ‘How is your wound?’
Cristian lowers his sword. ‘Healing. No thanks to your clumsy work.’
No one has ever spoken to me this way, but I only smirk. ‘No? Thanks to the healers of the castle, then?’
‘What good is being a princess if you—’
I raise a hand. ‘Be careful.’
His breathing comes fast, raising his chest. ‘If more witches actually fought, us humans wouldn’t have to get hurt and die for you—’
‘How dare you.’
As if realising what he’s said, Cristian takes several steps back, eyes on the ground. ‘I’m sorry, Princess.’
‘I think you believe I’m someone else.’ I raise my skirts a little and walk forward. ‘A witch who’s abandoned humans. Forsaken them. Sent them off to die in battles in faraway realms. That might be someone I know, someone I’m related to, but not myself. I cannot take responsibility for that which I haven’t done, nor had a say in until now.’
I can see by the stubborn set of his jaw that he has much to say, but holds back.
‘I know I didn’t fight well yesterday, but I wanted to. I tried. I refused to hide.’
‘A thoughtful gesture, Princess, but of no actual assistance.’
I expel a breath. ‘I see. Underworld Knights are only vulnerable to Gaia Wood, as are witches. The weapons are destroyed after they are used so that none are left behind. We haven’t had a breach in years. We were not prepared.’
Emotion fills Cristian’s eyes. ‘Then how do you claim to protect us? Do you know how many suffered and died yesterday, while you ran all over the field, needing to be protected?’
Patrick marches over and raises his hand to Cristian.
‘Don’t.’ I set a hand on Patrick’s arm and stare, telling him to move away. ‘Let him speak.’
Cristian glances at Patrick, then at me, and continues. ‘Forty-five humans died yesterday, Princess. Dozens more injured.’
I think of the woman this morning. Her cold, frozen hands. Are there more people in my realm suffering the same?
‘No witches died,’ Cristian added. ‘And barely any witches fought to protect us. If you won’t help us, day by day, as that boundary fails, we will all be killed—if not before then. No other may be brave enough to say this to you, but I owe it to you, as your citizen, to speak the truth. You fail us.’
Patrick steps forward again, and without thinking, I place myself between him and Cristian. ‘How dare you speak to her this way.’ Patrick frowns as he realises what I’ve done.
‘Leave, Patrick,’ I say, my voice low. ‘This instant.’
‘But, Your Highness, he cannot speak to you this way. It’s insolence—’
I raise my hand for quiet. ‘Perhaps. But it is the truth.’ I glance at Cristian, and I swear his shoulders shake. I’m convinced he meant no ill will. ‘Someone should tell me these things. I am not a child anymore.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Go, Patrick. I won’t ask again.’
Patrick steps back, then turns and marches away. He leaves the rest of the guard.
I turn back to Cristian, but he takes several steps away from me. Does he fear I’ll take my own vengeance on him? ‘You’re right,’ I say.
Cristian’s head snaps up.
‘What you said. You were right.’ I pick up the sword I discarded. ‘But I won’t fight with these. They would only harm you. For our next lesson, go the castle dungeon and collect Gaia Wood to forge new weapons.’
‘That—that could kill you.’
‘Well, hopefully my teacher won’t let that happen.’ I try to smile. I’m pleased when he returns the gesture.
‘I am sorry if I offended you,’ Cristian says. ‘You can’t understand what it’s like, as a human. I didn’t mean you did no good yesterday. You tried, and that’s more than I’d ever imagined. You weren’t in the way or needing saving. I wanted to protect you.’ He smiles. ‘As is my job.’
I take a patient breath and glance over at Izzy. She’s holding the teacup halfway to her mouth, forgotten, staring out in shock at all the drama. I take another step, closing the distance between myself and Cristian. I see his feet move automatically to put more space between us. I touch his hand to keep him in place. ‘I may not be a good fighter just yet, but I’m not useless.’ I reach out and touch the bandage peeking out from his shirt. ‘You won’t have trouble with the healers anymore.’
Understanding lights his blue eyes. ‘You—you did that?’
‘I won’t have my people suffer. I knew I didn’t bandage you very well.’
‘That was kind, Princess.’ Cristian backs up. ‘And I never thought you were useless.’ He puts a little distance between us. It’s natural to do so, but he seems more relaxed.
For a first lesson, that’s not quite what I had expected, but I’m glad for it all the same.
As I leave Cristian to pack up the swords we didn’t really use, Isabella meets me and clasps my hands. ‘Gaia!’ Her eyes are wide. ‘What was all that about?’
The maidservant with the umbrella follows as we walk, the remaining guards behind her. I glance over my shoulder at Cristian, the human. ‘I think there are more lessons for me to learn than I had imagined.’
‘Why did Patrick look like he would strike your instructor?’ Isabella’s hands are aflutter at her sides with excitement and intrigue. To Izzy, there’s nothing more exciting than a handsome man, or gossip. Or both.
‘Cristian was… honest with me about some things.’ I try to say it in a way that doesn’t make him out as rude, but it’s tricky. Almost anyone who talks back to a royal
is rude, no matter the context.
I watch Isabella’s fine features crinkle as she scrunches up her nose in distaste. ‘About what?’
Cristian packs everything up by himself as we slowly walk the grounds. He carries the swords, rolled up in sheaths, on his back, as well as the stand. He doesn’t see me looking at him, and now, with his guard down, I can see him strain against the pain of his wound.
‘What it’s like to be a human, ruled by witches.’
Izzy scoffs. ‘We protect them.’
I shake my head. ‘Not really. Not well enough. Many died yesterday. Barely a single witch raised a hand to help them.’
Izzy grabs my wrist and stops me, turning me to face her. ‘They ought to be lucky they’re treated as well as they are. They’re weak. We are strong, Carmen, and you and your family rule justly. Don’t let anyone tell you different. He’s a good-looking man, but that makes no difference if he doesn’t treat you with respect.’ Her voice is unusually stern.
I wait for her to collect herself, and she removes her grip from my wrist. The two closest guards stepped forward, ready to come to my aid. As one meets my gaze, I shake my head, and they back off. I meet Isabella’s gaze. ‘I value your companionship and company, but don’t touch me like that again.’
Izzy’s back straightens. Her lips are pressed together in a thin line. She’s too proud to apologise, at least in this moment, but she inclines her head and turns to continue walking. In my moment of anger, I think I held it together well; I was equally angry that she would act out of turn, and because of how she spoke about Cristian—well, all humans. I clench my fists together and happen to glance down at them. And yelp. Smoke trails from my closed hands. I open them, and there is no fire, no marks that would prove it.
The maidservant approaches, concern in her kind eyes. ‘Your Highness?’ She says quietly. ‘Are you alright?’ She looks down to where I stare at my hands. ‘Did a branch catch at you?’