by Paris Hansch
Ryuko shook his head, walking away. “You won’t need to know.”
Adelia clutched her chest, sinking back against the wall. Underneath all of that hostility, she felt agony. She couldn’t tell which one of them it came from, but what she felt only scratched the surface. She took several shuddering breaths as the pain began to subside. Clearly, physical distance from them helped to reduce the feeling’s intensity.
Although they hadn’t exactly been discreet, it wasn’t ladylike to eavesdrop. But there was no way that she could ignore what she’d heard—and felt. Adelia clenched her fist. Maybe she could help them. She hurried back to her room.
When she arrived, her door was slightly ajar. She hesitated but gave the door a massive push. There didn’t seem to be anyone in her room. There was, however, something on her desk.
She tentatively stepped in, scanning the room for any obvious danger before approaching her desk. There was a small bundle of parchment that had clearly been ripped from their source and rebound, and a note stuck out of the side of the bundle. Adelia paled. She knew exactly what this was. The parchment had the distinct dragon script all over it. She pulled out her tome, opening it to the missing pages. That had to be it. Adelia picked up the note, which was written in common tongue, and her blood went cold.
It’s time you knew the truth. Don’t show Hanabi. —M.
20
Chapter Twenty
Anton
Anton leaned over the edge of the balcony, watching the people go about their business. His sister was doing a pretty good job, not that he expected anything less. Him, on the other hand—not so much. The pressure just scrambled his mind and made his heart race, and there were far too many people looking at him at once, so he fled. He could see now why Alexander hadn’t wanted to put him in charge of anything; he knew that he couldn’t handle it.
He wasn’t even fit to be the spare. If his brother died, there was no way that he could take his place. Perhaps he was simply fated to be useless—Lord Anton, the one that historians wouldn’t bother to include in the books. He sighed, letting his fingers run along the stone. He didn’t care so much about being remembered, but it was embarrassing, all the same. He couldn’t fight like Alexander, lead like Adelia or even clean like a servant. There wasn’t a single thing he could do to help, except stay out of everyone’s way.
He was just as hopeless as that servant girl—no, princess. Anton clenched his fist. That princess, who had turned out to be as unreliable as anyone else. She’d raised their hopes and then left. Not that he was hopeful or anything; he’d just expected that a princess with the power of a god would have been more helpful. Anton slapped his forehead, and little bits of wet frost dripped down his face.
He couldn’t understand why he was so upset about her leaving. Adelia had every right to be, as did Alexander. But he had wanted her gone more than anything. For their own safety, of course.
No, that wasn’t it.
Anton sank his head into his hand. The princess had been irritating, yes, but she had also saved his little sister’s life when he couldn’t—in more ways than one. And there was nothing in the world that could repay that debt. The longer he searched his mind, the more he failed to come up with any wrong she’d done to him. But he could never forget those piercing eyes that stared deep into his spirit.
Remember, I’m your friend.
Why had she said that? It wasn’t like they were friends in the slightest. And for some reason, there was a burning urge to find out the answer.
Out of the corner of his eye, a girl rushed down the hall. Anton jerked his head back. Was that her? She was wearing white and red robes with a large bow tied at the back and looked like she was about to punch a wall. No, it wasn’t her; this girl was too short. There was a book, just like Adelia’s, situated in a pouch on her hip. He let out a breath. It must be that girl—Hanabi—his brother had gone off to rescue, which meant that they’d returned.
Hanabi stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned toward him. Her face was scrunched up in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
Anton self-consciously glanced down at himself. Nope, everything seemed to be in order.
“You...” Hanabi approached him in the same way a foxen would when it was deciding if you were friendly or not. “You’re like Adelia.”
He frowned. “She’s my sister.”
Hanabi shook her head, her curious gaze sharpening to suspicion. “No, Alexander is her brother, but not in the same way you claim to be.” She began to circle him. “Impossible.”
Anton scoffed. “I’m not claiming anything. It’s a fact. Alexander is my brother, and Adelia is my sister.”
“Are you sure you were born a man?”
This woman was insane. “Excuse me?”
With lightning speed, Hanabi grabbed between his legs. Anton recoiled, shoving her away, and she lost her footing, tripping backward onto the ground.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. His arms wrapped reflexively around his body, and his heart was flailing inside his chest. He couldn’t stand being touched, much less where she’d just grabbed him.
Hanabi got up, dusting herself off. “Sorry, I had to make sure. The truth is, you shouldn’t exist.”
“Explain,” he snapped. He didn’t need another person confirming that his birth was a mistake, but he was going to get an explanation from her, whether she liked it or not.
She took a deep breath. “I’m Hanabi, the Head Priestess of the Imperial Dragon Temple. I knew about Lord Alexander’s gifts, as they are of his bloodline, and I assumed Lady Adelia was born of another means and adopted. But you two have the same energy.”
Anton shook his head. “Explain better.”
“Your sister is a priestess, like me. That much is a fact. The other fact is that priestess blood can only be passed on from another priestess. Therefore, her mother had to have been a priestess. And because I thought I was the only one left, I thought Adelia and I must be related somehow.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you,” said Hanabi. “The third, irrefutable fact is that a priestess can only bear female children. If you were Alexander’s brother, it would make sense, but your aura is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” She stared at him with wide eyes. “Yet, you’re the son of a priestess, and her blood flows through your veins.”
Anton threw up his hands. “I don’t know what kind of nonsense you’re spitting out, but just stay away from me. And from Adelia, too.” He walked past her.
“You can see the lights, can’t you?”
Anton stopped in his tracks, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want to turn around, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. She obviously knew something.
“I’ll be blunt, since you clearly don’t want the long version,” said Hanabi. “They’re spirits. You’re looking at elemental spirits with your spirit sight, and if my intuition is correct, you can see all of them. As far as I’m aware, you’re the only one who can, besides the dragon gods, of course.” She held up her hands. “But I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll give you a tip, though, because I can tell that the spirits bother you. Talk to Sara. She’s out on the far end of the western grounds with Scarlet. She can help you.”
Certain that she wasn’t going to say any more, Anton stormed away. He couldn’t believe that he’d almost mistaken Hanabi for the princess, who would have never done something like that. Hanabi acted like a spoiled brat who got everything she ever wanted, which was probably the case if she was the only priestess in the temple. He exhaled. Not only that, but what in dragons name had she just dropped on him?
His sister being a priestess was, more or less, not that surprising, though he didn’t really know what the big deal was. And his brother had always been talented, so what was an extra talent to him? But the fact that she’d insinuated that the three of them weren’t siblings because of some stupid rule that he shouldn’t exist? Ridiculous. As if he needed an
other reason not to exist, anyway. All of this bloodline nonsense was going right over his head. He wanted answers, but not from her.
Anton headed to the western grounds, stomping his feet in the thick snow as he went. When he finally looked up, he paused. In the distance, there was the little girl, Scarlet, dancing near Doll’s grave. Fire trailed from her hands like a dancer’s ribbon, twirling and twisting in gentle shapes. It glowed bright orange, and the little lights glided through the fire. Sara stood nearby, watching her and tending to a small fire. The flames were getting dangerously close to Doll’s tree.
“Hey!” he shouted, breaking into a sprint.
They glanced at him, and a piece of the girl’s flaming ribbons seemed to break away. It caught on the uppermost branches, and the silverlight wood began to burn.
Anton ran, his lungs bursting. “No!” He pointed wildly behind them.
The girls turned toward the tree in surprise. With incredible speed, Sara threw something at the branches, and the top of the tree broke off. An unnatural breeze blew the branches to the ground, and the fire died in a matter of seconds after it hit the snow. Anton finally reached them, panting, his hands resting against his knees.
“I’m sorry,” cried Scarlet. She backed away from the tree into the open grounds.
Anton paced around Doll’s grave, his eyes darting over the tree and her little stone. He let out a sigh of relief. Other than the burnt branches, everything seemed to be unharmed.
“I apologize,” said Sara. “I didn’t realize this was something important. We were trying to get distance from all the people.”
Anton shook his head. He was annoyed, but something else nagged at him. He pointed to the charred wood; the once translucent beauty was now blackened with ash.
“How did you do that?”
Sara unhooked a circular object from one of the pouches by her waist. “I used my chakram. It’s made from silverlight, so it’s virtually invisible in the air—one of my father’s brilliant ideas.”
He took a closer look. It was indeed made from silverlight, and the outside edge was razor-sharp, while the inside concealed a sturdy handle. As he studied it, he realized that it was the same object pictured on the outside of the Lysanthian emblem—a throwing weapon that could be deadly in the right hands.
Anton looked over Sara more closely. She was taller than him, and her lithe figure was covered in strange leather clothing. Her skin well-touched by the sun, her hair was pulled back and she wore glasses on her pointed nose, which was uncommon since glass that fine was more of a luxury. She carried an array of objects with her, but he could only see one chakram amongst the pouches. He frowned.
“Aren’t you meant to have more of those?” It was like having only one arrow; unless you wanted to get close to the action, you couldn’t get it back very easily.
Sara turned to face a different part of the forest and threw it at another tree ahead of her. It whizzed off, then disappeared. The little silver lights appeared in his vision, carrying her chakram in an entirely different direction. A branch snapped to her left, falling to the ground, and the chakram flew back into her hand. It was a clean cut.
“Normally, yes. But I’m manipulating the air currents to affect the direction I want it to go.”
Anton raised his brows. That was the first time he’d ever seen the little lights move like that—or spirits, as that annoying priestess called them.
“I think I saw,” he murmured. Although he didn’t like Hanabi, there was a certain peace that came with the knowledge that he wasn’t going insane. The lights he’d seen all of his life meant something.
“You saw?” asked Sara, rubbing her chin. “Oh, Hanabi must have sent you. You have an air affinity, correct?”
Anton shrugged. “She dumped a barrage of information on me. I’m just here to find out what all these lights are.” He kicked the snow. “And to get away from her,” he muttered. “There was also something about being a non-existent priestess’ son and how I’m unrelated to my siblings and have good sight or something.”
Sara grimaced. “Ah. Yes, she can be a little… abrasive. Unfortunately, her talents as a priestess are unmatched. Anyway, I’m trying to teach Scarlet how to control her fire. We’re starting from the basics. Do you want to join us?” She took a few steps toward Scarlet, who was keeping her distance from the forest.
Anton let out a breath that turned to mist in the air. It would take his mind off of things, at least, and he had nothing better to do.
He trained with them for a while, listening to Sara’s teachings. The spirit arts were less about bending an element to your will and more about connecting with the element itself. When a spirits arts user was practicing, what they were really doing was asking, not commanding, and they always gave something in return, most often energy. It was a natural give and take, the original state of this world. Balance was key, like the unchanging cycles of day and night, dark and light. People were always meant to be one with nature, and nature one with them.
Scarlet was a natural at all this of course since she was a spirit herself, albeit she was a little afraid. Spirit sight, as he learned, allowed him to see into the spirit realm and manipulate the elements. That is, theoretically; he just had to get it to work.
Anton closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves. Still, nothing. This was ridiculous. The one time he actually tried to see those damn lights on purpose, they wouldn’t appear. He was literally surrounded by the elements but blind as an oyfish, which had no eyes at all.
“Why can’t I do it?” he said, stomping his foot in the snow.
“Sometimes, even the first step is a difficult one,” said Sara gently. “Where have you been when you’ve seen the spirits before?”
“Alone,” Anton snapped. “More often than not.”
“Perhaps you need to get some space for a bit, then. Being frustrated isn’t going to help you at all.”
“This is where I get space.”
Sara adjusted her glasses. “Talk a walk, Anton. You’ll feel better.”
“Fine.” Anton began to walk, then he paused. “Can I ask you something? Both of you.” They nodded. “Why are you still here? You know a war is coming, and there’s still time to leave.”
“Because our princess asked us to stay,” said Sara.
Scarlet shrugged. “And she said for me to stay with them.”
“And you just do what she says, even after she left you all here with a slim chance of surviving the war?”
Sara nodded. “Mina never does anything without a reason, and I trust her with my life.”
“My spirit says to trust her,” said Scarlet, glancing down. Her red hair fell over her face, reminiscent of his own familiar movement. “But I don’t know.”
Anton waited for them to say more, but they didn’t. “I see.” Their answers didn’t satisfy him or help clear up the doubt in his mind, but he was sure that that was all they would give him. “All right, I’ll take my leave now.” They nodded, and he wandered back toward the castle.
What a day this was turning out to be. The other areas of the grounds were packed with Anadese people, and the castle was stuffed to the brim with nobles and the like. The only place he could think to go that was quiet, other than his room, was the library. While it might not be the best place to practice his spirit sight, perhaps he could find a book on the subject.
The library was darker than he’d imagined and smelled a little like mold. The maids evidently didn’t visit this room as much as they should, though he was rarely in here himself. The ceilings were as high as the great hall and packed tight with books, the rows only a few feet apart. He could imagine his little sister climbing up and down the ladders all day long to retrieve the tomes at the very top of the shelves, and of course, she’d be one to put them back exactly as she found them. If she returned them, that was.
He, on the other hand, had no idea where to start, and there was no one around to help. He browsed one row after another, but the book
s didn’t seem to be organized in any logical manner—not by name, title or subject. The books near the entrance were all concerned with Anadrieth, followed by the empire, the other regions and combat, but the rest was a complete mess, and he didn’t see anything on the spirit arts at all. Whoever arranged them must have had their priorities confused. Maybe if there were a few more windows in here, it would be easier to find something.
A soft beam of light illuminated the row to his left, and he turned down it, following the light. As he reached the end of the row, his breath caught in his throat. Sitting at a table amongst several open volumes was Cynric, busily pouring over a notebook. The thin frames of his glasses sat delicately on the bridge of his nose, his gaze keenly focused on his work. His hand danced across the page, the neat sloping handwriting accompanying several complicated diagrams. Anton edged closer until he was practically hovering over his shoulder.
Chapter Six — Managing internal wounds in the field.
Anton absent-mindedly touched his palm. So, he was a medic. No wonder he knew how to heal his burn. The content seemed far more advanced than what he’d done, though, and didn’t mention anything about using water for miraculous healing. On the contrary, it appeared rather technical and mundane.
“Yes?”
Anton jerked back and found Cynric’s turquoise eyes staring at him. He fought the color rising in his cheeks and turned his nose up. He felt like he’d seen those eyes before, but he brushed it off.
“I was just looking for a book and thought I’d ask if you knew where anything was.”
“It’s my first time here.”
Anton swallowed. “Right. I knew that.” He cleared his throat. “You’re interested in medicine, I see.”
“I am.”
“It’s just that men aren’t brought up to be in that… profession.”
Cynric blinked. “Do I have to follow what everyone else does?”
Anton paused. It certainly wasn’t traditional, and traditions were there to follow. If you didn’t, you’d be an outcast. He didn’t look like an outcast. Cynric didn’t seem to want to talk about it so he decided not to press the subject. “Are you writing a book?”