1.
Zain
Lady of Andith
My mother was a stone portrait on the garden wall, hidden behind a curtain of ivy. Every time I peeled it back, I saw glossy stone, carved to perfection, but well-worn by decades of rainy seasons.
It was dusk as I sat in a patch of grass near the wall, staring at her. Pink and purple petals lay scattered at my knees. The petals matched the colors of the sky that drenched the garden in a lilac sunset. Before me, the lady of Andith looked radiant and regal. Her chin tilted high. The tops of her shoulders delicately appointed.
“Mother, do you hear me?” My voice was steady, but I felt a lump in the bottom of my throat rise without consent. If only I had her hand to hold. To comfort me.
“I can’t do this alone.”
I fidgeted anxiously with the hem of my gray dress and looked down at the tiny scroll still in my lap. A red velvet string kept the scroll bound.
What did it mean when a delicate little thing held so much power?
I pulled the end of the string, unfolding the scroll so that its stiff parchment curled out between my hands.
I straightened my back as I began to read.
Dear Lady Zain Furie,
It is with regret that I, Lord Stonewood, withdraw my proposal for your hand.
I hope you find compatibility with a future suitor, and a hand that I could not offer.
I remain your loyal friend and ally.
Aster Stonewood
Lord of Cumberan
I let the scroll drop back into my lap as tears fell down my face. A sob clamored up from my throat as I covered my mouth in embarrassment. Though, there wasn’t anyone around to see my shame.
“I’m ruined,” I whispered.
It had not been two days since arriving back in Andith from our proposal ball—an event that was meant to solidify the bond between Andith and Cumberan. I had barely unpacked a thing. Upon returning home and opening my travel chest, the yellow gown I wore to the ball sat on top, burning a hole through all my other garments. I blinked as I recalled, with so little effort, with so little defense, the image of Aster Stonewood, the Lord of Cumberan, standing over me with shadows drowning out his face. No matter how close I had been to him the evening of the ball, how eager I was to watch him and remember every single detail on his face, still I could not remember what he looked like. His face was a shadow. However, his tall, and imposing form was etched into my mind’s eye.
I shut my eyes, trying to forget the image and focus on the why.
The reason could only be the one thing that I had feared the most. My scar. The Lord of Cumberan had rejected me because he had finally seen my scar in person. I was not a drawing, not a letter written in ink, no, I was exactly who I had been. A woman with a long scar along the top of my temple and down my cheek. Hard, pink tissue raised on the left side of my face.
Dreadful.
A hot tear slid down that scar. My hand involuntarily clenched, crumpling the parchment on my lap.
I looked up again, eyes blurred. My mother’s portrait on the pebbled wall remained stoic, her expression unchanged. Her hollow eyes looking outward, into the distance. For a moment, I wish she would turn. I wish she would look at me. Perhaps if I stared hard enough, those carved eyes would blink and she would come back to life.
“I‘ll be twenty-five in a few days,” I said to her. “Twenty-five with no prospects.”
I could almost laugh at the irony. My mother was near the same age in the likeness I now cried to. Except, she was married at this age. A married lady with me, a babe, at her breast.
I shivered, but not from the cold. I thought of Thatcher and what he would do once he found out that I had been rejected. He was likely to be furious with this news. My steward was not shy with discipline. No other in this castle desired my nuptials more than him and when he did not get what he wanted, he made sure those around him suffered for it.
“What should I do?”
I needed a real answer. Should I hide? Or should I face him, accepting whatever punishment he had decided to dispense? Perhaps I could convince him that there would be other suitors.
My fingertips glazed over my cheek, feeling the rough skin on my left side. I was a fool to think there would be others.
“Lady Zain,” a pensive voice came from behind me. I knew who it was before I turned. I could only imagine what my puffy face and red eyes said as they were revealed.
“Yardem.” I acknowledged him in a tight voice, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.
Yardem was my personal guard. He was barely twenty and fairly thin for a guard, but he was healthy and strong. He also had a nice face to look upon. Straight brows drew together over his soft eyes. His long, brown hair was tied at the back of his neck, but a few pieces had fallen out, framing his narrow face.
“Lord Corys has summoned you.”
My steward, Thatcher. At least, until I was married and produced an heir. He was my only guardian growing up. Sure, I had handmaidens and a governess, and a grumpy blacksmith who became familiar with my questions and curiosity. But I had never felt a mother’s touch or heard a father’s laugh. I had no idea what either of them looked like, apart from this piece of carved stone.
Thatcher made sure that I was kept in the dark about my parents—where they had gone and what happened to them. I didn’t even know if they were alive or dead. I presumed dead.
I didn’t even know if my mother’s eyes were same copper shade as mine, or if her skin was as richly brown as mine is.
I inhaled a trembling breath and turned back to my mother’s memorial.
“Save me. Please,” was all I could say as I squeezed my eyes shut.
Thatcher’s study was in the northwest corner of the castle. The hallways in this wing were drafty and unkempt. He rarely allowed anyone to walk between the walls here, not even the servants. The hardwood floor creaked as I approached the door and tapped my knuckles against it three times. I heard his raspy voice from within, calling me to enter. Yardem stayed behind, standing in the hallway as I went in cautiously.
This used to be my father’s study.
The fireplace was lit at the opposite end of the room, filling the space with the scent of spirits and charred timber. Thatcher’s desk faced the hearth. Both walls were lined with bookshelves. Two velvet couches faced each other in the center of the room, but Thatcher sat behind the desk near the door, hunched over a stack of scattered parchment. The quill in his hand furiously swishing against one of them. A short glass and a decanter of amber liquid were at the top corner, leaving wet marks on the wood, as though he had already made several sloppy pours. His gray hair had recently been cut above his wide ears. His silver brows furrowed as he focused on his task.
I gave him a modest curtsy and stood near the door, waiting for him to speak.
“You disappoint me, Zain,” Thatcher said as he laid the quill down, his words slightly askew. The room was quiet apart from the crackling fire. His icy blue eyes rose to mine. The red veins encasing them were more prominent than ever. I know he hasn’t been crying, but it looks like he has.
I lowered my eyes. My hands clutching the folds of my skirts.
He assessed me from head to toe, the corner of his thin mouth curled up, his pointed mustache moving with it. The corners of his eyes withered with saggy, pale skin and wrinkles.
“Your hideousness has cost me a bride-price,” he said slowly. The disdain in his tone made my eyes well up.
A hand reached into his black vest pocket, pulling out a tarnished, gold pocket watch. With his thumb, he flicked open the cover to reveal the time beneath. When he finished, he pressed the cover back until it clicked into place. He unfurled from his velvet chair, and I held my breath as he moved toward me, like a poisonous snake writhing on the forest floor.
As he got closer, the stench of his drink and his body sweat filled my nose. I resisted the urge to pull back, knowing he would beat me for such a thing. Instead, I gritted my teeth and held my breath.
His alabaster hand reached up to my face. He gathered a lock of my tightly coiled hair and pushed it back behind my ear gingerly, like a gentle lover, revealing the scar fully. A calloused thumb ran down my scar.
“You’re fortunate to have two sides,” he slurred, appraising the other side of my face. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t even be fit for a brothel.”
I swallowed. His hot breath and scathing words were acid on my skin.
“Perhaps I should match the right with the left.” He pulled a short dagger from the ankle of his boot, so quickly that I had no time to react. He pushed me against the door, his forearm like steel across my chest, pressing my back into the doorknob. I grimaced, sucking in a breath of pain. My hands clutched the front of his leather tunic, elbows mashed together as his entire body leaned into mine so that I couldn’t move. He reached down between his legs and readjusted himself so he lined up with my center and pushed against me again.
I gasped as the initial pain shocked me down to my toes. My heart quickened at his threat. Every part of him is rock-solid against me and I’m grateful for the layers of material between us.
I think of Yardem and if it would be worth calling out for him, but he has never intervened with Thatcher before. Not once. The idea that he might now was a sign of my desperation.
“Please don’t,” I pleaded. My voice is bound by the weight of his body against my diaphragm.
The tip of the blade dug underneath my chin. I raised it, wincing, my eyes stuck on the ceiling as I feel warm blood drip down my neck.
I could hear the smile in Thatcher’s voice as he spoke. “How I long to end this decade of quarrel over your body,” he said with what I can only assume is regret as his gaze flicks down, moving to and fro over my curves. “Soon, this battle will be over.”
He released me, retreating slowly back to his desk. My chest rose as I drew in my next breath, feeling the freedom sing between my rib bones. But the thrill of survival was short-lived.
Thatcher lifted an unbound scroll in his right hand. A vile grin stretched on his face.
“In a fortnight, you shall be married.”
Confusion twists my expression. My mouth turned dry as my heart continues to thunder, as if it knows it is not yet safe. “But I thought Lord Aster—”
“Not him, you foolish cunt.”
I licked the dryness from my lips and lowered my eyes in compliance. “Forgive me. I just thought that—”
“Lord Aster is a decent man. No decent man will ever marry you.”
A bellied tear fell, taking its time to navigate the length of my scarred cheek.
“Your new suitor is nothing like him,” Thatcher admitted proudly. Dull, grey teeth leered back at me.
“They call him the Demon Prince.” His head tipped back with bitter laughter. “How fitting. A monster and his beastly bride.”
2.
Zain
Lady of Andith
“Are you all right, Lady Zain?
I found brown eyes staring down at me. A pale, gentle hand gripped my elbow, and I could feel the calloused fingers tightening on me as I was pulled up straight.
I swallowed. Taking in my surroundings with open eyes. There was green all around. Thickets, weeds, and bushes that came up to my knees, cloaking the ground I stood upon. All but a narrow, worn path was thickly covered with trees that shuddered in the soft breeze. It was a path that I recognized immediately as the route down the cliffside to a small cove of the Andianes Sea.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Yardem,” I said, absently. “I must have been daydreaming.”
The last thing I could recall was smoke billowing in all directions. White ash stuck in the thick coils of my hair. Not a very nice daydream, at that.
“You nearly fell.” The concern in his voice led my gaze back to him. His brown eyes were wide with concern.
I looked down at his hand on my arm again. My cheeks warmed at the prolonged touch. The awkward silence shifted his expression from concern to embarrassment as he let me go.
“I’m fine. See? You practically saved my life.” I tilted my head to indicate the brush that cloaked the edge of the trail.
He took a small step back and bowed his head to me in a sign of respect.
I wasn’t offended by his touch. Descending the cliff was treacherous on a good day. Last night, we had a storm that must have been sent by the gods. Dirt turned to steep mud. Rocks loosened from the earth. Slipping off the side and tumbling through bramble all the way to the beach would be an easy mistake.
Another’s arm swooped in between us, disrupting the awkward tension.
“Come, Lady Zain, I’ll hold you, so you don’t fall,” said Veran, one of my handmaidens. In her other arm, she held a bundle of linens for us to dry off with at the end of our swim. Her green eyes sparkled at me as she smiled coyly. She wore a cotton bonnet, as was her custom, but I could see the edges of her auburn hair peeking out. Her plain gray dress swished at her ankles, and her hips swayed as we continued walking. She had curves and a bosom that all the castle guards gossiped about.
Veran had been my handmaiden since I was six years old, which made her ten years my senior. She never married or left the Andith estate. She was under contract with my steward to stay until I was wed, or, in case she wed—neither of which had happened.
Veran pulled me forward until we were out of Yardem’s earshot.
“You really shouldn’t give that boy a reason to kneel for you,” she mused in low voice. “He’ll roll right off this cliff.”
I held back a giggle. Veran gave me a serious look. Her lips pressed together in a firm line. But the humor in her eyes betrayed her and we fell out in earnest laughter together.
Although amused, I didn’t doubt her. Yardem’s pale skin often led to rosy cheeks whenever we spoke to one another. From time to time, I felt his eyes linger on me, like a magnet pulling my attention from everything else.
“That boy is going to fall on his sword for you one day,” Veran said. I knew she intended it as a joke, but the thought of that stirred a terrible image in my mind. I shivered and tried to blink it away.
My other handmaiden, Hilgis, was only a few steps ahead of us, crouched low to the ground as she made her descent carefully. Her dusty brown hair tied back into a leather-woven braid at her neck, as was customary of girls enslaved in the Dire East. When I was a child, Thatcher bought her from a slave market when she was barely thirteen, along with her mother, who now sells vegetables from her small garden in the village.
As I watched her before me, I see the frame of her body is still slight, frail. The same as we had found her. No matter how well protected and well fed she now was, she seemed to not have fully recovered from what she endured.
“Are you feeling all right, Zain?” Veran asked. “You still seem…”
“In shock?”
She paused, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Is this about the Lord? Or is it about the new suitor?”
I didn’t look her in the eye, I couldn’t. I shook my head once, tentatively. Twice fervently. “I don’t wish to speak of any of that.”
She paused in her step. “Zain, you know I’m here for you. If you do wish to speak—”
“I’m fine,” I said in a hurry to change the subject. “I just…I’ve been having these strange dreams lately. I wake feeling disoriented and confused.”
“Dreams?”
“Yes, but not just when I’m sleeping. I have them when I’m awake. In the middle of the day, when I’m doing things like riding, journaling, and target practice with Shesh. He’s even dismissed me a couple of times, scolding me for being unfocused. But I can’t help it.”
We helped each other through the end of the path, where the incline was sharpest. Hilgis had already made it down to the beach and was waiting for us at the bottom, watching us descend.
Behind us, Yardem followed. He wore a sword, peace-tied at his waist, black pants, and leather boots laced up to the knee. It seemed unfair that he had to accompany us and yet couldn’t enjoy the beach in the same way we could.
To be fair, it was a private part of the beach that even townsfolk didn’t frequent. It was a dangerous trek to the water. Not to mention, rumors of frequent pirate raids that kept the townspeople from making the trip. But I had never felt unsafe in this part of the beach. I had learned how to make the trek down the bluff at a very young age, sometimes doing so on horseback.
“Your mother had such dreams when she was your age, younger I think.” Veran snapped me out of my thoughts.
She had never mentioned my mother before. I held my breath, not knowing what to say next, lest she decide not to say another word about her. I had heard rumors that Veran was a handmaiden to my late mother, but she never spoke of her, and I never asked. Not because I wasn’t curious, but because we were both forbidden from speaking of my parents.
“Is it true then? You knew my mother,” I said quietly.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a deep sigh. “I know I shouldn’t say more. I don’t know why I brought it up now, except that…well, you’re to be wed soon. What can Thatcher do to us now that you’ll be under the protection of another lord?”
I blinked. My brows furrowed at her words. Would I be wed soon? Or would I be rejected again, like with Aster. Guilt weighed heavily on me. As much as I knew I should tell Veran about what happened at Cumberan, I was too desperate to hear about my mother.
Thatcher had been my only guardian growing up. Sure, I had handmaidens and a governess, and a grumpy blacksmith who became familiar with my questions and curiosity. But there was no one else to tend to my childlike hopes and whims. I had never felt a mother’s touch or heard a father’s laugh. I had no idea what either of them looked like, apart from my mother’s stone portrait in the garden.
Thatcher made sure that I was kept in the dark about them both—where they had gone and what happened to them. I didn’t even know if they were alive or dead.
I presumed dead.
I drew in a deep, shaky breath and glanced at Veran whose eyes filled with tears. Mine felt full as well. With a deep breath, I patted her hand and continued walking through the sand, toward the beach.
“I didn’t know her very long,” she warned. “So I don’t know that much about her.”
“Tell me,” I said eagerly.
She smiled gently. “I was young when I became her handmaiden. Fifteen, I think.”
“What was she like?”
Her eyes brightened. “Absolutely magnificent. She was strong, obstinate. Maxis was practically a captive in the marriage.”
I smiled at the image she painted of her.
I had heard my father’s name murmured in the halls over the years, only among the older servants. Lord Maxis, they would whisper. His name was like an invocation of some legendary specter meant to haunt me.
That Zain, they said to one another, assuming I can’t hear them. Where is Lord Maxis to discipline her?
If he could see her now, they’d scoff.
“From what I’ve heard,” I cut in. “He was just as obstinate as she was.”
“They had their moments,” Veran recalled. “But he always bent to her. She was so beautiful. So…imposing. Her dark hair was full, velvety, and long. Down to her elbows, like yours. Bright, earthy eyes,” she looked up at me, appraising. “Just like yours.”
I felt a tear fall to my lips. The salty taste reminded me of the beach, and I recalled an image of playing in the sand with her. I could never conjure her completely though, so I don’t know if it was a true memory or a dream I had made up over the years. But the feeling it gave me every time was as delightful as it was dreadfully nostalgic.
“She often dreamt of the sea. She’d hear voices across the water, singing to her, like some sort of call luring her into the deep.”
I blinked back tears as I tried to memorize every single word she said. “Voices? What did they sing?”
She took in a deep breath, and I could feel her relax as she recovered the memory. “Of castles under the surface. Magics in the water. Creatures, queens, and sorcerers, all in the deep.”
I sighed. “Do we all dream of underwater castles and mermaids?”
Veran looked at me funny, but my question was purely rhetorical.
Or was it? I fell into silence, pondering my words.
As we reached the bottom of the path, we kicked off our flat shoes and peeled off our stockings. The warm sand sinking beneath our feet as we made our way toward the water. I looked around the empty beach, listening to the crash of each wave against the shore. There was nothing else for isles. Just deep, clear water and the sun beaming down on us.
“It is no wonder she dreamed of fantastical things,” I said finally. “Impossible things…here in this quiet place. A place where nothing of note ever happens.”
I could feel Veran’s dejected eyes on me as we came upon Hilgis on the edge of the water, laying out blankets and two baskets of food in the dry sand.
I leaned in toward Veran, planting a light kiss on her cheek as a thank you.
“You’ll tell me more tonight?” I whispered so that Hilgis could not hear. “After everyone’s asleep?”
It was hardly a question. I knew Veran could see my curiosity was stoked and I would hear every bit of what she could remember about my mother.
She rolled her eyes playfully.
“Go, Zain,” she said, nudging me away. “Go swim.”
I nodded, my mouth curling into a grateful smile. I broke away and strode out to where my toes met the water.
I looked out across the horizon, not a cloud in the sky. The sun traced down my skin like hot coals, and I almost couldn’t take the heat. The waves lapped at my feet as white birds sang overhead.
My hands came up to the cloak ties at my collar and without another thought, I unbound them and let the cloak fall to my feet. I ran into the water, my thin gown clinging to my skin. The icy waves broke against my body. I could smell the kelp twirling at my ankles as I paddled out further into the sea. Excitement clapped in my chest as the water pushed and pulled me out with the tide.
Despite all that happened at Cumberan the day before, I felt renewed at the recounting of my mother’s memory. I had wished for so long to know what kind of person she was and now I had a glimpse.
Strong. Obstinate.
If I could be either of those things, perhaps I would be closer to her in some way. I would truly be her daughter. Time and distance would be strange bedfellows to my mother’s legacy—if I were either of those things. But of all the qualities I could possess at this very moment, I wasn’t even one of those things.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Hilgis remove her cloak at the beach and begin to tread the water as well. She didn’t follow me directly, which I was grateful for. But she kept herself within eyesight.
The rush of water in the next wave takes me by surprise. Rushing undulations drowned out the sounds of the birds cawing above me. I dipped my head fully in the water, drenching my thick hair. Water inevitably flooded my ears as I did so, momentarily muddling my hearing.
I heard my name in a whisper across the churning waves. So distinct, it made my heart flutter as I snapped my head toward the sound—out beyond the shore and into the deep sea. But it couldn’t be. It was likely someone on the beach calling my name and the water carried the sound in strange directions. Perhaps Yardem, who didn’t know how to swim, and whose aversion to the water was well known, had called me. He never liked when I went deep into the water, as if I would simply disappear into it, without a trace.
I looked back to the beach. My eyes locked on Yardem quickly. He sat well behind the spread of blankets and baskets set out by Hilgis, leaning back on one hand. He looked relaxed with his legs stretched out before him and the sword now unbuckled and laying in the sand at his side.
His eyes were intensely focused on me though, as if I were the sea itself. I pulled my thick hair back from my face and gave a reassuring smile. If he could see it on my face, he gave no indication. But if he hadn’t called my name…
I looked over to Hilgis. She was floating on her back a good distance from me. Unbothered.
Then I looked at Veran. She paced the beach, eyes on the sand, toes dipping into each wave.
Zain.
I snapped my head around. Back to the deep sea.
My eyes searched the horizon. With the clear waters, I was confident nothing was there. Just the crystal blue as far out as I could see.
Zain.
It was a sing-song voice with a deep scratch that sent chills along my skin.
I moved my body in tune with the next wave, which seemed to be stronger than usual. I let it wrench me in closer to the deep. I waited to hear my name again but all I could hear was the push and pull of the water.
I must have imagined it. Could have been the wind or the waves, or both. I smiled cautiously. Or maybe oceans could speak to us like people. I laughed at the idea.
I caught Hilgis staring into the sky, still floating peacefully on her back. I smiled at the simple joy of it, and turned over onto my back, holding my breath as I floated. The sun felt so lovely on my face. I closed my eyes against the light and basked there. Birds chirping as they flew overhead. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance.
Gods, this was peaceful. Perhaps I could stay floating out here, like driftwood. Out here where Thatcher can’t get me. Where scars and betrothals don’t matter.
A dark shadow dimmed the sunlight.
A chill fell over my body as a crack boomed from above. My eyes fluttered open to see what could possibly block out the sun in such a way.
The sky was rapidly bursting with gray and black clouds. A flicker of yellow flashed behind them, and clap of thunder trailed behind it. I winced as a gasp came from behind me. When I looked back, my ladies were quite a distance from me now. The shore was far enough that Yardem was as small as my finger.
Had I drifted that far?
Then I panned over to search the water for Hilgis. We had maybe seconds before the storm began and we were deep enough where that would become problematic for our safe return to the beach.
Shouts began to come from Veran and Yardem behind me.
I found Hilgis to be a concerning distance from me, forty…no, fifty feet? But my heart dropped as I looked just beyond her. The crystal blue waters churned, frothing with white for a few seconds, and then turning pitch black.
These dark, inky waters spread out towards Hilgis, gaining on her quickly.
For a moment, I was frozen, paralyzed with disbelief and perhaps fear. As the black water gained on her, a wave pushed against my back like a nudge, propelling me forward, breaking me from my inaction.
I began to paddle my arms toward her furiously.
“Hilgis! Look out!” I shouted.
Her head popped up from the water, and it took her only seconds to look from me to the black waters approaching her.
She screamed in a way that I didn’t think possible. I had never heard her speak much louder than a whisper, but her scream came out as a raspy shriek.
Despite her terror, she didn’t move. Her fear kept her locked in place.
The dark water seemed to be aiming for her, only her.
Veran called out to her, pleading with her to return to the beach.
When I looked back at the sand, I saw Yardem slowing rising to his feet in confusion. But he was much too far to do anything.
It dawned on me that I was the closest to her. I didn’t know what was or wasn’t in the blackness pushing towards her, but there was no time to speculate. I dived under the water, which was still crystal clear where I was wading, and began to swim towards her. Arm over shoulder, left to right, right to left, I kicked my feet, trying as hard as I could to go as fast as possible.
Every time I came up for a breath, I heard another shriek from Hilgis.
I lifted my head up for a moment and saw that the darkness was gaining on her faster than I could. Inevitably, it would reach her first.
More shouts sounded from the beach. Veran must have gotten out of the water. At least she was safe.
Another flash of light. Thunder exploded above me and then the downpour began. With the darkened skies and sheets of rain pelting the waves, I could hardly see her anymore.
I pushed my body to go faster. Pumping my arms harder. I hope I had not changed direction. That I could get to her if I just swam faster. I blinked heavily to protect my eyes from the backlash of water striking my face from above as well as below.
A delicate hand flailed before me, and she cried out again. She was within arm’s reach. I pointed my fingers out as far as they could stretch. Still kicking my feet to push me forward.
Her left arm shot out for me. “Zain!”
“Hilgis!” I screamed in a voice I didn’t recognize.
Our fingers barely touched. The slickness of the water preventing any grip. She slipped right through my hand. Something with force and weight yanked her underneath the surface, as though she weighed nothing, muffling her final scream.
I swallowed saltwater. My throat burned as I tried to call for her again.
Black, frothy water bubbled where she had disappeared and I dived once more, hoping to find her underneath the waves.
My eyes burned as I tried to open them. All I could see was her thrashing body being tugged back into the blackness of the water, where I could no longer see anything. I couldn’t even recognize my own body in the darkness. I was surrounded by it.
All I wanted was Hilgis. To see her.
I need to clear the water.
I need to push it all away.
The backside of my hands came together in front of me. I meant to push them apart, to swim forward. But instead of my body moving forward with this motion, the water seemed to move around my hands.
The black water parted.
The current that was meant to sway over me, retreated from me as a tunnel of air sucked it back.
In the chaos, I could finally see Hilgis. Just her upper body. Her eyes were bloodshot with terror, and her hair was plastered to her neck and shoulders. Her nostrils flared but it seemed like she could no longer scream. Her hands reached for me. Desperate.
I grabbed her forearms with both hands and with all my strength, pulled her body to mine. She clung to me, but something held her back at the ankles. I couldn’t see it through the dark water, but it was there. And it was strong. Much stronger than me and Hilgis.
I turned, trying to leverage my mobility to drag her with me. But we made no progress. The water began to close in on us. I couldn’t keep my chin above water.
We were going to drown.
That thing had to let her go or we would die.
Without a thought, and Hilgis clinging to my torso, I turned my shoulder, looking back at the blackness. I extended my arm out to the water. My mind only focused on pushing this strong entity away.
“Let. Her. Go!”
A wave of water exploded away from us, shooting up into the air. Saltwater spraying in every direction. The tension drawing on Hilgis ceased. She was now light as a feather in my arms. I didn’t hesitate. I began to drive us towards the beach frantically, unhindered. My heart thundered in my ears as the sound of waves furiously sloshed around us.
Free.
We were free.
I could see the beach as bright as morning. The sun was shining there. No rain sleeting against the sand and trees. I don’t know why or how, but something compelled me to look back. I had to see. To catch a glimpse of what that was.
But when I turned, the rain stopped. Thunder shook the skies and the dark clouds drifted away like they had never been. The black water retreated as quickly as it had come.
In the middle of it all, bare shoulders the tint of deep earth and a head of dark, thick hair, at such a distance where I could still see its face as plainly as if I were looking in a mirror.
Because the face was me.
Thick eyebrows, full lips parted and pursed as though she were whistling or singing. High cheekbones and a round face, with almond eyes. Eyes that stared back at me. Bright and savage. She smiled, almost affectionately, before she began to scream.
Her high-pitched screech made me recoil, and I broke from her gaze as a wave came and forced us away toward the beach. When it hit us, I gasped, swallowing water. I nearly choked before turning and kicking again. I pumped my free arm and legs as hard as I could. My muscles strained from the weight of Hilgis limp in my right arm. I didn’t have to go for long before I was grabbed by the shoulders and pulled from the water. Clumps of sand dragged down my back as we were tugged farther back on the beach.
My knees buckled a few times as I backpedaled, but we made it out of the water. Our feet no longer touching the wet sand. I gasped for life. Water had flooded into my mouth so much that my throat burned when real air came through it. Then I realized it was Yardem holding me. Us. He had us both in his arms.
“What the hell was that?” Yardem hissed.
“Hilg—” I coughed but tried to rub her back to see if she was breathing all right.
Hilgis choked and heaved, water ejecting from her mouth.
With one hand clutched to my neck, and the other a death grip on Hilgis, I looked out to the horizon. There was no trace of the dark water or the woman I had seen. Almost like it had never been there.
Yardem followed my look.
“It knew,” was all I could voice before coughing in earnest. I turned away, releasing Hilgis and crawled to my knees. Then I proceeded to vomit the remains of my morning breakfast over the sand.
“What? Zain, what?” Yardem pulled at my shoulder as I wiped my mouth with my sopping sleeve.
My stomach rolled again, making my eyes water. I coughed once more, clearing the lump lodged in my throat. I sat back on my heels, my thin gown clinging to my body. Water dripping down my shoulders.
“Whatever it was…” I gasped, eyes still roving the sea’s surface. A chill crawling down my body as I recalled the way the voice lilted as it whispered to me through the water.
“It knew my name.”
But more than that, it had my face.
3.
Severyd
Second to the Prince
Across from me, the stench of my opponent’s sweat sent me into fervor. I reared up, teeth bared like an animal. A resounding roar and blistering heat expelled from my lungs. Smoke billowed around me as I shot flames across the air.
Dust and dirt blasted from the ground, blanketing the training yard as well as my opponent who blocked the onslaught with both forearms, sliding back in his boots, his smaller shoulders closing inward to protect himself. Some of my fire singed his hands. He gasped with the pain and fell to one knee.
“Are you insane?” Nin asked from the ground, scanning his hands, looking for permanent damage.
I shrugged toward nonchalance, but I saw him anew. His hair was trimmed just below his ears and shorn on one side. Two jeweled earrings sparkled in his locs as his head turned. He was just like his brother. Except for his dark brown eyes that now refocused on my position. On the cusp of puberty, Nin would soon be called to complete his bloodright trials. A rite of passage that each dragonson of age must face and overcome in exchange for the first shift. A ritual bestowal of draak abilities.
“Watch it.” He shook off the pain, flexing his hands with uncertainty. “You’re not supposed to use fire.”
“You have to be quicker, or you’ll be ash and bones,” I spat. I wasn’t angry at him, but as his teacher, guilt often weighed on me when Nin failed to protect himself. If I couldn’t teach him how to be invincible on a battlefield, then his blood was bound to be on my hands.
Except, was it too late now? Soon he will reach his own without me. Without his siblings or his parents. Soon he would be forever who he was meant to be and the rest of us so invested in him would have no more say.
I looked around the training yard of the Inner Sanctum, flanked by horse stalls, sullen with dust. In the southwestern corner was the smithy, hard at work in the forge, grinding out steel for the crown. Next to him, the archery, where wood was carved into weapons every single day.
I looked back at Nin who dragged himself back to two feet. Perhaps he wasn’t the only thing I worried about losing.
I stepped forward, my right shoulder leading as I lifted the sword in my left hand. Sweeping to the right, my blade sliced through the air. Nin countered it with his short sword, gritting his teeth as our steel made contact. The thwack of our blades clamored, ringing out in the yard. My height over him gave me an advantage he couldn’t possibly win back. He retreated and circled me, clearly annoyed.
“Your enemy will not hold back. If he has fire, he will use it.”
Nin narrowed his eyes, his sword held between both hands. His knees were bent as he leaned in and rushed me. Surprised by his sudden return of strength, I stumbled back and laughed.
Nin shook his head, dropping his sword to the ground. “I’m done here. Your mind is already elsewhere.”
He swung back to face the gates of the training field and stalked toward it, dropping his leather wrist and arm guards to puddle at his feet.
“Elsewhere?” I was incredulous at the accusation and still stunned by his boldness. Perhaps I hadn’t failed him yet. “Tonight, we leave for Andith. A serious journey and a choice I haven’t taken lightly. If my mind is elsewhere, it is because it’s on you. On your training. Your bloodright trials. Everything.”
He swiveled, his face crestfallen. “Yesterday I had two strong warriors that I called brothers. After today, they will both be gone.”
I reached for him, but he shrank back.
“We will return,” I said in a soft tenor.
“I think what you’re doing is foolish,” Nin said as he looked up at me, his body still. “You shouldn’t leave. Not now, not with what’s happening in the Grimlands.”
He was right, of course. With unrest came uncertainty. Anyone, young or old, in line for succession should worry when there is uncertainty.
I nodded to him, feeling the guilt rise again. “I shouldn’t. But I promised. We are nothing without our word. Someday I hope you learn as much.”
He folded his arms, looking away. “Your lessons are meaningless.”
I nodded, pursing my lips. “Are they now?”
“This serious journey you embark on is built on a lie—”
I pressed my hand to the back of his neck. “Let me worry about that.”
“I hate grownups,” he stated, begrudgingly, shrugging my hand off. “They always contradict what they say. ‘Do not as I do, but as I say.’ It makes no sense.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I had no other words to assuage him. “You will understand someday.”
He sighed, rolling back his shoulders. “No. Someday I will discover all the ways you lied to get your way and everyone you hurt in the process.”
“Nin.”
A horn sounded from the north side of the yard, calling the attention of everyone in the stalls and stables. Even the blacksmith appeared from his forge. At the stone steps leading up to Society House, a procession of royal soldiers descended, marching in an orderly fashion to the other side of the yard. In unison, they halted at the iron gate to the Outer Sanctum, pivoted on their heels to face the training yard, and stood at ease. Behind them, the Royal Nine of Kalara, the royal guard to the prince walked with the crown between them and stopped before the gate. I leaned a bit to the left and saw a silver crown atop yellow-gold hair that dropped down into one braid. It was a sharp contrast to the heavy black cloak and black armor he wore. The crown and the hair together made him stick out like a gold thumb. Though I couldn’t hear any words spoken, I saw his lips moving and the royal guard around him began to pick at his armor and cloak like it was his costume and he was on stage.
Nin, watching this all transpire with me, sheathed his sword and flicked his eyes up at me cautiously.
“Starting tomorrow or whenever you return, he’ll be even more ridiculous than you are now.”
I sighed deeply and dropped a hand on the top of his head. “I imagine that he’ll be insufferable. But so will you.” I smiled ruefully, without meaning to. “You’ve come into your own. Nin, I’m proud of you.”
When his eyes met mine, they were glossed over. I pulled Nin to my chest. Silent tears poured from him. I didn’t let up. I meant to absorb every drop, if I could.
“You’ll make a decent prince someday.” My thoughts carried me off. “If your brother fails the crown, then you will no doubt take up the mantle.”
“I’m not ready,” Nin whispered harshly.
Of course, what he meant to say was: I’m not ready to ascend.
If the High Prince Gavriel Enderlin did not return here to Ceider Palace, Nin would be next in line for the Kalaran throne. I understood his concern very well. Over many arduous prayers I had begged whoever could hear me to spare me from all responsibility and any path to becoming draak, a fully shifted dragon. It was great power, and with it came great respect. But the heaviness of the responsibility was more than most could bear.
One of the Royal Nine clicked his tongue and waved a hand to me. It was time. The prince was saddled and the rest of our provisions had been strapped to our saddlebags. My own horse waited for me at the gate.
“I better go,” I resigned. “We’ll be back within a month. While we’re gone, look out for Tyse.”
Nin’s head fell back. He stared at the sky in a moment of frustration. “You want me to babysit?
“Looking after your little sister is not babysitting.” I warned. “You’re a protector. Just like the Nine. It’s the duty of all protectors to look out for those most vulnerable, and it is a personal war for each man to wage.”
“She’s in the safest place she could ever be,” he complained. “Especially within Sanctum walls.”
“Not with Prince Nas.” I made my expression grave so he could appreciate the severity of my words. “I don’t trust him.”
“Yes, I knew that except you never explained why.”
I blinked at him. An image of smoke, ash, and blood arose behind my eyes. The pressure threatening to consume me whole. I lowered my gaze to my feet, trying to mentally fold the image like a small piece of parchment and tuck it away. When I looked up, Nin was watching me carefully, in silence.
Clever kid never missed a thing.
“Yes, well, you’ll be of age soon,” I recovered. “Perhaps after your trials, we’ll discuss it.”
Every dragonson endured trials when they hit puberty, which was at the age of one hundred and twelve. For Nin, it would take place on his next birthday. The trials were a series of tests to survey his strength, his abilities, and his soundness of mind. If he passed, he would be declared an adult, given the title of Prince Enderlin, same as his brother.
“Unless you die,” he said sardonically. “And then I’ll never know what it is about Uncle that pits you against him.”
“You’re right, Nin,” I replied to his surprise. I wasn’t yet ready to tell him everything, it wasn’t the right setting, and I had no time for it anyway. I chose my next words carefully. “I will tell you this, Prince Nas seeks power. The closest to his hand is your father’s throne.”
“But he always said he wants nothing to do with Ceider or court. He hates coming here. The Kalaran throne is the last thing he’d want.”
“So he claims,” I agreed. “But when in battle, where do we keep our focus?”
“On our opponent, of course.”
“Where on our opponent?
He was quick to specify, “The eyes.”
“In the same way, it’s not just a person’s words that we need to heed. Their eyes betray everything.”
Nin schooled his expression into focus. I could see that he was trying to understand, working through the lesson and imprinting it in his head, much like he did when we trained.
“Watch his eyes, Nin. And for draak’s sake, watch your sister.”
I turned to leave the yard, but his next question stopped me.
“But what could he possibly want with Tyse?”
“She’s the youngest.” I said over my shoulder as I mounted my horse. The royal entourage had already begun to file out the gate. “He will prey on that before long.”
After nodding to him in goodbye, my horse began to follow the others.
I left Nin standing alone, his hand tight on the hilt of his sword.
j. r. wallington 