Authors: Elana Johnson
“Surely.” He held up his hand before I could speak. “I already know who you want, and I’d like to give you both Matu and Castillo.”
I held my breath, surprised that he had guessed my wants, anticipated my needs. He exhaled as he examined the horizon. “You may only have one of them. Though I wish to provide you with the best personal guards—and Castillo
is
the best—he is committed to duties here in Umon.”
I shot him a glance through the gathering darkness, wondering when he’d started troubling himself with my guards. “Matu is a very good guard.”
“I’ll find you another who can equal Castillo’s skill.” His tender voice testified that he truly cared about me, that my personal safety meant a great deal to him. “My brother has much to do here, but he’ll come to Nyth as soon as he’s able.”
“Thank you, Cris.”
He slipped his fingers through mine, the corners of his mouth lifting the slightest bit. Perhaps I should tell Cris of my bond with Castillo. But I couldn’t without discussing it with Castillo first. “I wish to discuss your guards also.”
“Go on.”
I didn’t like the edge in his voice, but I carried on undaunted. “Bo and Gibson terrify me. I don’t wish to be around them day after day. I don’t know how you stand it.”
“They are most loyal.”
“To your father.”
He whipped his gaze to mine as he stopped. The river raged beside us, a dull roar compared to the frustration Cris harbored in his gaze.
“You know I’m right.” I spoke as gently as possible. “They don’t live and die for you; only for him. We must cut them loose before we leave for Nyth. Here in Umon.”
The scared little boy Cris hid so carefully came forward. Naked fear shone in his eyes. “They won’t go quietly.”
“As long as they go.”
“They’ve done things for me,” he said. “Things I’m not proud of.”
My stomach twisted. “Such as?”
“I would rather not discuss it,” he said. “To dismiss them, it is very likely that we’ll have to involve my father.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, Cris, this is exactly where you need to exercise your authority. Why should your father get to decide who your personal guards are? They’re
your
guards!” I squeezed his hand and calmed my rising temper. “No.
We
will make this decision, and we will handle it. We are the future king and queen.”
Cris stared at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging down. “I will be the King.”
“
You
will be the King!” I said. “
You
will decide. Not your father. Not anymore. This is the first step in regaining a measure of your power.”
“The first step,” he repeated.
“I’d like Castillo to be present,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t ask why.
Cris nodded, still living inside his scared-child skin. Dismissing Bo and Gibson would greatly displease the High King of Nyth—and neither Cris nor I knew if we could shoulder the consequences.
#
The next morning, Bo and Gibson arrived at the suite before the sun—before Castillo. I’d requested him to arrive at seven. I’d been up for an hour and wore my traveling clothes when I answered the door. “Oh, good morning.”
“Is His Majesty ready?” Bo growled.
“No,” I said. “We’ve decided to leave closer to noon. Cris had some business to conduct this morning.” The lie sounded convincing enough. “But while you’re here, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
The two men crossed their arms as if they were one person, their movement identical. Though they stood apart, their quiet dislike evident, they were also united. Their bond strengthened them, and I had no doubt they would use their combined power against me. They glowered at me, and I felt as though my skin might burst into flames from the hatred in their eyes.
“Your services are no longer needed,” I said as calmly as I could, which meant my voice wavered ever so slightly. I forged ahead. “His Majesty has selected new personal guards. Your new appointments are waiting in the High Secretary’s office.”
I started to swing the door closed, but Bo’s foot shot out and prevented me from doing so. “Our new appointments? Who do you think you are? You cannot dismiss us!”
“
I
didn’t dismiss you,” I said. “You still have jobs. They’re just not with the Prince.”
“Has the High King approved this?” Gibson asked.
I leveled my gaze at him, feeling the first inklings of magic shooting up my arms. “This is not his decision.”
Before I could do or say anything else, Bo shoved the door with his meaty hands, knocking me backward into the suite. I screamed out of anger, but the air was pressed from my lungs by one very large knee.
I morphed my scream into a high-pitched note. Immediately, an electric current sparked from my body and the pressure left my chest. I coughed and gasped for breath, trying to regain my footing. A heavy blow landed on my shoulder blades, sending me back to the ground.
I flipped over, catching a glimpse of the red-faced fury of Gibson before he unleashed a spell on me. A puff of black smoke rose from his hand, a sign of sorcery. Fear blasted into terror and then pain as his shattering spell ricocheted through my body.
Only lightning existed, in my head, behind my eyes. I’d never felt such pain in all my life. Not when I’d found Olive in her dreadful living conditions; not when Grandmother died; not when I’d stepped in the beaver trap and almost lost my right foot when I was seven years old.
I heard a bellow of outrage, followed by knocking and slamming and yelling. I hummed to myself in an attempt to chase the wicked song-magic out of my system and stitch my insides back together. It worked, though my voice seemed to come from outside my body. The sharpness in my back faded, and the fire in my veins cooled.
I stood up, taking in the scene in snatches.
Bo lay slumped against the door. A black char mark disfigured his throat and jaw.
Cris sat on the floor, bleeding from the head. Bleeding. Bleeding.
Gibson wiped his mouth, and his hand came away red. All I could see was his sneer, that redness, Cris’s blood.
“You won’t leave here without me,” he said, taking a step toward me.
“Don’t come any closer.” I held my hand out as if I alone could stop him. I prayed Castillo would feel the panic in my magic and arrive to assist me.
Gibson laughed and mimicked me with his hand movements. “I can do magic, too, girlie.”
My body already knew that much. It screamed at me to put distance between Gibson and myself. But I stood rooted to the spot, the magic roaring through me. I didn’t know if I could overpower him. Dark magic carried a weight all its own, and he’d been training for much longer than me.
I started a guttural rumble in the back of my throat to weave a protective spell around myself. I wished I stood closer to Cris so I could envelop him in the shield too, but he’d fallen closer to Gibson.
Gibson lunged forward with a maniacal cry, thrusting both hands toward me. I opened my mouth and sang.
A rush of magic swept past me from behind, gaining strength as it flowed by. I hurled every ounce of energy I possessed into the song, which should cause extreme discomfort to Gibson’s ears. His magic sizzled against my protective shield, which exploded into a cloud of dark mist. When it cleared, I found Gibson doubled over with his hands covering his ears. Behind him, Castillo stood in the doorway, his eyes hooded and his jaw clenched.
I dared not stop singing to instruct him. I waved my hands in the air and switched the song to a chant just as Castillo lifted his voice to fill the empty spaces. Combined, our magic would make Gibson nauseous. If Castillo continued to sing, we could rupture his intestines with such a spell.
Gibson screamed in agony, one hand still cradling his head and the other moving to grip his abdomen.
The power coursed through me now, flowing out and up and down. Oake had taught me to allow the magic to work through me.
Let it guide your chants, direct your hands, free your voice.
The colors in the room brightened. My hair whipped around my shoulders. My hands moved. My soprano voice rose and fell in melodies and motifs, creating the most terrifyingly beautiful music. I heard the empty spaces for split seconds before Castillo’s voice knitted into harmonies.
Gibson writhed on the floor. He screamed. He progressively clutched different parts of his body as the magic assaulted him. He begged for a release, and by the time I ended the spell, he lay on the floor absolutely still. A trickle of blood edged out of his ear, crawled over his cheek, and dripped onto the floor.
My voice faded to silence and I dropped to my knees, unable to stand. I blinked and a dark ring stuck to the perimeter of my sight, blocking Castillo’s concerned expression. The blackness crept further in, obscuring more of the room. It covered Bo’s unconscious form and blocked out Cris’s bleeding face.
“Shattering spell,” I managed to whisper. I blinked again, and this time the ring of darkness haloed Castillo’s panicked face. His mouth moved, but I heard only static. I willed the blackness to smother Gibson’s dead body. I did not wish to accomplish my plans through murder, and my heart twisted at what I’d done. Even Castillo’s gentle ministering and angelic voice didn’t ease the horror coursing through me at having killed a man. When the darkness finally took me, I gratefully sank into it.
Castillo’s magic woke me long before anything else. It curled into ribbons around my face, whispering softly against my skin. It healed me with its songs and chants, and wrapped me in a protective layer.
I sensed a parade of people coming and going, but after weaving me a magical blanket, Castillo had disappeared. Cris came and stayed for hours. He’d been fully healed, for which I was grateful.
Sometimes he read in the chair next to my bed, and often he told me the stories from his books. I liked that. It helped pass the time where I thought I was awake but everyone else believed differently.
Finally, the glow from the magic dimmed, and I opened my eyes as Cris read a tale about the ancients and how they’d sent ships across the waters to discover new lands.
“The ships didn’t return.” Cris’s voice reminded me of his father’s, full of tonalities that could produce beautiful music. “Kings were commissioned, and the new lands flourished. The ancients—” Cris glanced up, saw me awake, and stopped reading.
He abandoned his book in favor of kneeling at my bedside. His face shone with admiration and what I could only guess was love. “You’re awake.”
“I’ve been awake for a long time,” I said. “No one seemed to notice.”
The lines around his mouth tightened. “Really?”
“I think so.” My joints felt rusty and my muscles misused. “Have I had any medicine? I didn’t notice anyone bring me anything for a few hours.”
“You have really been awake.”
“Yes.” I tried to push myself into a sitting position, and my muscles protested with a sharp twinge of pain. “And I hurt.”
“I’ll get Lucia to bring you a tonic,” he said, rising. “I’ll be right back. Don’t fall asleep.”
I groaned in response as my head began to throb. Cris returned moments later, and Lucia followed with a steaming cup soon after.
They watched me with solemn eyes as I drank. Whatever medicine swam in the tea, it worked. My muscles relaxed and the pounding behind my eyes faded. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Just over twenty-four hours.”
“Are we still in Umon?”
“We couldn’t travel.”
I didn’t like the cautious tone in his voice. I cupped my hands around the warm mug and waited for him to continue.
“Heona, it turns out, is not fond of our union,” he said. “They’ve sent an army to voice their displeasure.”
“But you said the queen had given her approval.”
“She had,” he said. “Before.”
“Before what?”
“Before she learned of Helena’s prophecy that Umon would produce someone that could overthrow Nyth,” he said. “She’s now worried that if you rise to power, it will unseat her authority as well. She wished to meet with you, but as you were incapacitated, I went in your stead.”
“And?”
He clasped his hands in his princely posture. “She has agreed to call back her arms until she can meet with you. I put her off, claiming we had to return to Nyth.” He sighed. “But she’s cunning, and she insists you meet with her before the first snows fall.”
He had been busy while I had been recovering. Meeting and satisfying queens sounded like such a kingly thing to do, and flash of pride stole through me. “Thank you.”
A frown creased his forehead. “For what?”
“For buying us more time.” I took a sip of my tea. “Surely we could use Queen Bargout and her displeasure with your father at some point.”
A half smile graced his mouth. “I’m counting on it.”
“So when I meet with her, I’m allowed to say whatever comes into my mind?”
He glanced away, trying—and failing—to contain a chuckle. “Maybe not whatever comes into your mind.” He sobered quickly. “And Queen Bargout is not one to be trifled with. If I can postpone your meeting with her until spring, I will.”
“She would hurt me?”
“Not if I have any say in the matter.” He looked fierce, protective, and I realized he actually felt that way about me. I also appreciated that he stood before me, involving me in the affairs of his country, creating a place for me inside his life.
I gave him a small smile. “So we’re to go to Nyth, and hope for an early snowstorm.”
“Yes,” he said. “A convoy leaves at dawn tomorrow, with the royal coach in it.”
“A decoy?”
“Yes. Everything’s prepared.” His eyes softened. “I wish we could’ve left as scheduled.”
A bitter twinge coated my tongue. “Is Bo . . . ?”
“He survived,” Cris said. “He’s been removed from the compound, and will accompany the army back to Heona.”
“Is that wise? Sending him to our enemies? What if he reports to your father?”
Cris took my hands in his. “Echo, he’s blind and dumb. In my latest correspondence with the High King, I reported that both Bo and Gibson revolted and were killed. I’ve charged Helena as Bo’s watchman.”