Echoes of Silence (32 page)

The vision faded, and I sucked at the air much the same way Cris had.

But the rebound didn’t end. One last image came into focus, this time without sound, as Cris stood next to Castillo, his mouth open in a spell-song. He pressed his lips together and turned to his brother with tears in his eyes. He shook his head, and Castillo pulled him into a tight embrace.

I pushed the rebound out of my head. I couldn’t stand another second of this agony, of seeing Cris full of power, and magic, and light, and then watching him fail at a simple spell-song.

I looked down at him, slumbering through my magical invasion. I saw him as a once-great magician, as Castillo’s first bond. I saw the greatness he could become as High King.

He’d paid a price, certainly. His magic, for his life.

His magic, to spare his brother from facing their father alone.

#

The next day came, because even magic couldn’t force time to slow for long. I didn’t wish to get up and attend the council meeting with the High King, but I had a part to play. I readied myself in Cris’s suite, sending Solis to my rooms to request a proper dress.

Mari and Olive arrived with burgundy silks. As my sister buttoned me into the dress, I asked her, “Are you sure you’re well?”

She caught my eye, and I saw the fear therein. “I’m better than if I had ignored the summons from the High King.”

I nodded, puzzling through the riddles of her answer. I concluded that she was still alive, that was all.

“What did you do before I arrived?” I cut a glance at Mari, who stood at the bureau preparing the makeup pots.

Olive brushed something invisible from my sleeve. “He wanted me to train with his royal militia; his magical militia. He was most displeased when he discovered I possess very little talent.” She spoke in a whisper, the words tumbling out so fast I could scarcely make sense of them.

“The dungeons are dark and cold,” she continued. “I’m glad to be out of there.”

“Olive,” I started but cut off when her eyes widened at something behind me. I turned, and found Mari’s gaze heavy on our hushed conversation. She raised her eyebrows and continued her work.

I swung my attention back to Olive. “What can I do?”

She adjusted the neckline of my dress, unable or unwilling to look at me. “He wants power, and you have more of that than anyone. You can protect me.”

Understanding dawned, and I fell back a step even as I nodded. “Of course, Olive.” The High King had summoned Olive to Nyth as a way to threaten me. He’d use her to keep me in line, knowing that I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger. I gripped her hand. “Of course I will protect you.”

“Echo?” Mari spoke, and Olive looked me up and down, smiled hesitantly, and retreated. Mari watched her every move, and I realized she was here to spy on Olive, not me.

#

The council chambers were situated in the heart of the castle, in an area most impenetrable. The room connected to the High King’s personal living quarters, with guards stationed at every corner.

Cris and I arrived together and mingled with the others who had the courtesy to be on time. Cris kept a running commentary of which dignitaries were in attendance, and what they did in Nyth. Agriculture, weaponry, surveillance, water distribution, blacksmithing; the list went on and on.

After fifteen minutes, the High King appeared, adjusting his cloak. He speared me with a glance as he took his place at the head of the table. Cris and I moved to join him, as did everyone else.

“The situation in Umon has hardly improved,” he began. Talk of village uprisings, Nythinian policies for war, and Heona’s agreements and supply issues filled the next hour. I had no idea why I had to be present. Cris barely supplied any opinions, though I knew he had strategies of his own, plans that included keeping the situation with Umon at its most perilous.

I tuned out of the discussion until Cris spoke my name.

“I’m sorry. What was that?”

Every dignitary in the room studied me. Some watched me with weariness in their eyes, others with fire.

“I have heard you hail from a long line of magicians,” he said. “Stemming from the ancients of Relina, if I’m not mistaken.”

I had admitted as much to him previously, so I couldn’t deny it now. “I am.” I was unsure where Cris wanted this conversation to go.

The High King flicked his eyes from Cris to me. “My father has a militia of men who need training.”

I frowned, remembering Olive’s hushed words. “I cannot wield a sword.”

“My master magician-at-arms has fallen ill.” The High King glanced at another man, and I doubted very much that the man of whom he spoke was still alive. “I would teach them myself, but with my time tied up with the diplomats from Heona and dealing with the uprisings in Umon, I cannot do it. I need someone who can teach my magicians to sing.”

“I can barely carry a tune,” I lied, sure Gibson’s reports had claimed quite the opposite.

Cris watched me, his fingers twined tightly together. “Father, Echo can do it. I watched her heal a man who was very nearly dead.”

I felt like he had slapped me. My eyebrows rose, but his expression didn’t change.

“She can achieve elemental spells as well,” the High King said. “My hunters have testified of it.”

“That was an accident,” I argued. “In situations of intense fear, sometimes—”

“She can pull magic from the earth,” he continued, speaking to the room instead of to me. He wouldn’t look away from me, and I found challenge in his eyes. I returned it, though my heartbeat rippled through my chest. I’d pulled magic from the earth to direct myself after the carriage fire—but I thought I’d been alone in that instance.

I squinted at the High King, wishing the gas lamps lit his face more fully. I wondered who had seen me use magic during that tragedy. Him? Or yet another spy?

“Defenses,” I said. “Not offense. I cannot train your militia in magical warfare.”

Cris smiled as though he’d been waiting for me to say those words. “Defensive spell-songs would be fine. Right, Father?”

I shook my head. “I cannot train your magicians.”

The High King stood as if the council was over. “Echo can begin tomorrow morning.”

Cris rose too, casting me one smug look before he followed his father past the guards and into the High King’s personal chambers. I had no idea what had just happened. Cris obviously wanted me to train the magical militia, though I couldn’t fathom why.

Matu returned me to my tower, where I spent the afternoon hours gazing at the sky, thinking of Castillo. Loneliness enveloped me, the same way it had the night Grandmother died. The separation of bonds wasn’t healthy, and the magical withdrawal from Castillo and his calm energy washed over me in waves.

Cris returned at nightfall, his face hollow. He leaned against the closed door, exhaling heavily as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Echo,” he said. “I should’ve discussed the council meeting with you prior.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I wanted your reaction to be as real as possible.” He moved further into the room, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Why do you wish me to train the militia?”

He stepped closer still, strength and intensity burning in his expression. “Please, Echo. Think of it as a favor for me, not as a favor for my father.”

“It’s both; no matter how you twist it.”

“You can control what they learn,” he countered. “Teach them only the better part. Weed out the wickedness in them. Replace the evil with good.”

I didn’t know why he was so desperate for me to train the High King’s magicians, but when he spoke of overriding the evil with the good, my magic burst inside me.

“You say it will help our cause?”

“Very much,” he said. “Just think of it. You’ll have access to every magician he wishes to control, and
you
can influence them.”

“I can influence them,” I repeated, thinking of rooting out those most loyal to the High King and teaching the rest song-magic that could dethrone him.

He reached me and brushed one of my curls away from my face. “You’re radiant when you speak of magic.”

He kissed me, holding me tight as if he really wanted me near. I felt something new in the way his lips moved against mine; in the way he stroked his fingers along my lower back. “I’m in love with you,” he murmured against my mouth. He kissed me like he meant his words, and I’d never been kissed like that before.

“I—” I swallowed back the desire to say it now just to make him happy. Serving someone brought feelings of love, and if Cris and I continued relying on each other, the day would come when I could tell him I loved him, and mean it.

Cris watched me, a mixture of sadness and acceptance in his eyes. “I understand.”

I didn’t know what time training began. I lounged in bed while Cris scratched his quill against a thick piece of parchment at a desk across the suite. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and until I bolted to a sitting position, he didn’t pay me any attention.

“What is it?” he asked.

I cocked my head to the side and closed my eyes. I hadn’t felt magic like this since leaving Castillo. This energy sang to me, though my ears heard no sound. I heard Castillo’s rich baritone singing that binding spell. My magic surged through me the way it had when we’d bonded.

“Castillo is here,” I said, though I didn’t wish to explain how I knew such a thing.

“Impossible,” Cris said. “It hasn’t been long enough to achieve our plans.”

I flung off the blankets and stood up. “Come, we must get ready to receive him.”

Before Cris could move, a booming knock sounded on the door. We exchanged a glance before he went to answer it. Once again, I found myself wishing I had Matu’s magic and could sense who stood in the hall.

“Open the door!” Fury pitched the High King’s voice into hysteria. Cris murmured something placating in response.

The High King’s face purpled in his rage, yet Cris stood strong against him, not allowing him entrance. Castillo’s magic lingered close, so close. I used every ounce of willpower to keep from running into the hallway and demanding to see him.

I moved closer so as not to miss any more of the exchange. As I did, Cris increased the volume of his voice so I could hear better. “Father, I don’t care anymore. The price is too high.”

I wasn’t sure what old argument this was, but the tension in Cris’s shoulders bled into me.

“For us to control the chaos, some have to die.” The High King’s eyes deepened in color and that flicker of orange fire breathed life into his face.

“No,” Cris said. “I don’t want to control the magic that way. It’s too dangerous.”

I muscled my way next to Cris. “That is what this is about?” I couldn’t stop the surge of magic as it painted my voice. Castillo was so close. If he were to speak, I wouldn’t be able to stop my voice from joining his. “Power over me? Over others? More magic? Is that what you promised my sister to get her to come here?”

The High King switched his sharp gaze to mine, his lip curling into a sneer. “Your sister acts on her own accord.”

“What did you do to her?”

“I did nothing.” The High King leaned away from me.

Cris slid his arm along my waist and murmured in my ear, “Don’t listen to him, dearest. His voice has a way of muddling the mind.”

“So does mine,” I whispered back. I returned my attention to the High King and his entourage in the hall. “I must beg for one more day. I’m not feeling well enough to begin the training today.”

Cris started to bring the door closed, and I tore my gaze from the High King’s to look for Castillo’s face among the crowd. His magic called to me, sang notes in my head. I took a step back into the bedroom to keep from rushing into the hall and calling his name.

“One day,” the High King threatened when only a slit remained in the door.

Cris returned to his paperwork. He labored nonstop, but I had nothing to fill my time. I longed for the days in the compound, when Lucia and I would scurry into the sewing room. My chest tightened at the memory of her friendship and the knowledge that I’d never see her again.

I retreated to my suite and sang a protective ward on the door so I wouldn’t be interrupted. I hummed a location spell, weaving my sister’s image into the notes. The rebound came quickly, and showed Olive arranging Nythinian blossoms. Her attention to detail remained unmatched, and she looked as content as I’d ever seen her.

Still, I didn’t trust that the High King hadn’t poisoned her, somehow, and I promised myself to find out all I could about why he’d really brought her here.

#

That afternoon, after I’d finished cleaning up, I went to Cris’s side of the tower. He stood to greet me, a smile spreading across his face. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “I would like to discuss Mari with you.”

Cris remained impassive. “Oh?”

“I don’t wish her to be my assistant.”

He blinked several times. “Who would you like for an assistant? I don’t think we can trust anyone in my father’s house.”

“She
is
in your father’s house.” I sighed. “I think the best way to get rid of her would be to claim I don’t need her.”

Cris looked at me a moment before glancing toward the door. “Meaning?”

“I don’t desire an assistant.” I crossed to him and slid my arms around his waist. “I know how to dress myself. I did it for many years. I can manage my own hair. Now, as for the makeup, I’m not skilled with a brush the way Greta is.”

“I don’t like much makeup anyway.” He smiled down at me, and a fluttering started behind my ribs. “I love you,” he said, the smile fading into seriousness.

It felt like the moment to say it back. But I wanted to mean it when I said it. Did I mean it? When looking at Cris, what wasn’t to like? His kindness? His compassion? His good looks?

I loved the way he protected me. I loved that he counseled with me, included me in decisions, and made me feel his equal. I loved that he paid attention to what I liked, knew what I wanted, and went to great lengths to provide me with what he could.

Cris watched me, waiting for me to say something. “I’m dangerously close to loving you,” I said, hoping it would be enough for now.