Ignite

  “To guard you or to offer counsel?” Eljin asked.

  “Possibly both,” Damian responded.

  Rylan glanced at me, then back at the king. “Sire, I know you value Alexa’s opinion and her expertise, but she was up all night and barely slept —”

  Damian cut Rylan off. “Oh yes. I apologize for forgetting.” He finally looked me directly in the eyes, his expression guarded. “I will take Rylan and Eljin with me, then, and you may go to your room to rest.”

  “I’m fine, Sire. I will accompany you.”

  Damian paused momentarily, as if considering, then shook his head. “No, you need to sleep. I still require your service tonight at dinner, though. I’ll have someone fill you in on any new developments when you wake up.”

  “Sire, I —” I started to argue, but he silenced me with a cold glare.

  “That is all, Alexa. You may go.”

  I swallowed my angry retort, all too aware of everyone’s eyes on us. First, he intervened in a fight, making me look weak in front of the other guards. Now, he was actually sending me to my room. I lifted my bloody sword up in front of my face and bowed slightly in salute. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” I said, teeth gritted, then stormed to the door, stepping carefully to avoid the bodies and pools of blood on the once spotless floor. I didn’t need to sleep; I needed to help Damian — to keep him from further danger, to figure out what was going on.

  I reached to yank open the door right as someone from the other side pushed it open, nearly hitting me in the face with it. I jumped back just in time. Tanoori started to rush into the room but paused when she realized I was standing there. Lisbet was right behind her. She nodded at me and hurried past Tanoori. When Lisbet saw the bodies littering the ground, her steps faltered and I heard her gasp.

  “Jax, you stay in the hallway,” she called over her shoulder, and I looked past Tanoori to see the young boy — Damian’s half brother — standing just outside the door. His eyes, the same startling blue as his brother’s, were as round as the moon when it was full to bursting. His face had gone pale beneath the natural olive tones he’d inherited from Lisbet.

  “What happened?” Tanoori breathed.

  “We were attacked.”

  She looked past me, and when she saw Eljin, she rushed to his side without another word. I couldn’t hear what she asked him; I could only see the grim shake of his head in response.

  I made myself turn away and walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me to hide the carnage from Jax, who still stood there frozen. In shock, or fear, or fascination — I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe all three.

  “Come on, Jax. We’ve been sent away. Let’s go.” I sheathed my sword, even though I knew that meant I’d have to clean my scabbard later, but it freed up my hand so I could hold it out for him. Just in case.

  He waited a moment, as though debating — probably wondering if it would be too babyish. But finally, he shrugged his shoulders and took my hand in a surprisingly strong grip.

  “Why are they sending us away?”

  “Because sometimes we are needed to stay, and sometimes it’s better if we go somewhere else.”

  “Because I’m too young,” he said in a singsongy voice that nearly made me burst out laughing — though there was very little humor in the current situation. “But why would they send you away?” he continued. “You’re the best fighter Damian — I mean, the king — has!”

  “Well, we can’t all do the same job. And we have to follow orders when we’re given them.” I was leading him back to Lisbet’s chambers, on the floor below Damian’s, where she and Jax lived now. A vast improvement over the tiny, dark room in which they’d hidden for years in the old wing of the palace during Hector’s — and Iker’s — reign.

  As we walked down the hallway to the stairs, a small group of girls turned a corner and headed toward us, dressed in the vibrant colors so popular in court. There were two taller girls, probably close to my age, and a younger one, holding herself up as high as she could, trying to look older than she was. The one in the lead pulled out her fan and opened it when she saw us, using it to cover her mouth and nose, and the others followed suit. The first one ignored me and Jax, lifting her chin as she paraded down the hall. But the other two looked straight at me. Their lips were covered, but I could still hear their words as they got closer.

  The one who looked a bit younger than her companions whispered loudly, her eyes wide, “That’s the girl who fought —”

  “Ssh.” The other one cut her off, her gaze fixed on my scars with a cold haughtiness. “Mother says it’s vulgar for a girl to speak of such things, let alone do them. It’s not proper for a girl to do a man’s job.”

  “Oh. Right.” The younger one’s eyes were round with fascination.

  I pulled my shoulders back, tightened my grip on Jax, and marched forward a little faster, making the boy practically jog to keep up as we passed by them.

  Their giggles followed us as we hurried toward the stairs.

  “What were those girls talking about? What does ‘vulgar’ mean?” Jax asked when we had turned the corner and left them behind us. “Were they talking about you?”

  “Never mind them,” I replied tightly. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  Jax was quiet for a moment and then said, “Well, I think they’re stupid for saying that. They should thank you for saving them.”

  I finally relaxed my grip on his hand, slowing down a bit. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” I murmured with a shake of my head. He was right; I shouldn’t spare them a second thought.

  “So what did Dam — I mean, the king — order you to do?” Jax asked eagerly, already forgetting about the girls. “Are you going to go interrogate someone? Or spar out in the ring?” Jax loved coming to watch me spar. I’d promised to start teaching him to sword fight, but so far we’d only been able to sneak in two quick lessons.

  “No, not today.”

  “Well, then … what?” he pressed.

  I sighed as we climbed the stairs to the second floor, where Lisbet and Jax’s rooms were. “I was ordered to take a nap.”

  Jax stopped in his tracks, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket. He stared up at me with his mouth partly open. “You were ordered to take a nap?” he repeated, and when I nodded, he burst out laughing.

  “That’s enough out of you.” I pulled him forward again, up the rest of the stairs and down the hallway until we stopped in front of his door. “I’m sure your mother will be here soon. She just has to help Deron first.”

  “I know,” Jax said as I opened his door and he slowly walked into his room. He sounded suddenly deflated.

  “Hey, Jax,” I called out to him. “Everything all right?”

  “I guess,” he muttered unconvincingly.

  “You know you can always talk to me — about anything, right?”

  He paused and turned around to face me again. “It’s just that … Mama and Damian — I mean, the king —”

  “Jax, I think it’s all right if you call him Damian. He’s your brother.”

  “Half brother.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at him.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “they are both sorcerers. They can both use magic and do so many wonderful things. I’ve been watching Damian practice sorcery with Eljin at night, and …”

  “And?” I prompted when he trailed off.

  “And, well, I can’t do anything. I’ve tried. And nothing happens.”

  He looked so dejected that I couldn’t brush off his concerns. Instead, I walked into the room and shut the door quietly behind me, then crossed to kneel down in front of him. “I’m not a sorcerer, but I think I can do some pretty amazing things, don’t you?”

  His eyes widened. “Yes. You’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen. And you’re a girl.” This last was said as though he couldn’t quite believe that the two things were a possible combination of facts — a sentiment that many other people in the palace, and Antion, seem
ed to share. I wondered, if more people knew my father’s nickname for me — zhànshì nánwu¯, which roughly meant “champion fighter” and “sorcerer” — would they be more or less enthusiastic about a girl guarding the king?

  “Well,” I continued, brushing off the thoughts, “if you keep training with me, I’ll teach you how to be the best sword fighter you can be. So, while you might not be a sorcerer, that doesn’t mean you don’t have talents of your own. You can be amazing, too, in your own way.”

  Jax stared at me, total trust on his face. “You’ll keep teaching me?”

  “I’ve told you that I would.”

  “But you’re so busy all the time.”

  I grimaced. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll try to do a better job of finding time to teach you, okay?”

  “Promise?”

  He stared at me with those blue, blue eyes — Damian’s eyes — and something in my chest tightened. “I promise.”

  He nodded and then suddenly reached out and impulsively threw his arms around me. He let go before I even had a chance to return his hug. With a satisfied smile now on his face, he stepped back, puffing up his chest a bit. “You’d better go take that nap, so you don’t get in trouble.”

  I shook my head at him with a roll of my eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  When I shut his door behind me and headed for my own room, I had to fight a rush of emotions. To so many, I was a reminder of pain and loss, death and suffering. My scars frightened those who didn’t know me — and some who did. But Jax didn’t seem to care. To him, I was just the girl who had saved Antion, who had helped put his brother on the throne, and I was the best fighter he knew.

  I was determined to keep my promise to him, even if it meant fewer king-mandated naps.

  ALTHOUGH I’D BEEN ordered to rest, that didn’t mean I could go to my room and pretend everything was fine. Damian was in danger. Antion was under attack — again. All signs pointed to Blevon, but that didn’t make sense. Not after King Osgand and General Tinso worked so hard and risked so much to establish peace. Was it an offshoot of the Blevonese army acting independently of their king? But if so, why?

  Though I was exhausted, my body burned with the need to do something. I curled up on my bed, but my mind ran in endless circles. After closing my eyes, I made myself breathe deeply and slowly. In and out. In and out.

  When I opened them again, I was no longer in my room in the palace. Instead, I stood outside my old home, the jungle creating a thick, green wall around the small clearing where a tall man stood, holding a sword, his hazel eyes intent on mine. The instant I saw him, I knew I was dreaming.

  “Again, Alexa. You need to use your agility to your advantage.” My father’s voice made my heart ache — even though some part of my mind recognized that this wasn’t real. Nothing more than a memory poking through the uninhibited boundaries of sleep.

  I was somehow simultaneously inside my body in the dream and yet still able to see myself as well. A younger me, maybe only seven or eight years old. My thick, dark hair hung straight down my back, and I blinked up at my father with wide, determined eyes. They were the same shade of hazel as his.

  I could feel the weight of the sword I held — far too big for me — but I didn’t let that slow me down; I grunted and swung it forward. I had always practiced longer than my twin brother, Marcel, determined to become a better fighter than he was. I had often stayed outside for hours by myself, even after our father called it quits for the day, trying to be faster, stronger — to be everything my father had believed I could be.

  In the dream, he watched me, his eyes sharp. “No! Stop. You left yourself open on the left side.” He strode toward me, and the sight of his quick, graceful movements as he demonstrated what I needed to do made me want to cry. Oh, how I missed him.

  “When you fight the enemy, he may have many advantages over you. You have to be quick — like this.” He lifted his sword and twisted, driving it through the air with a hiss, as though he moved so fast, he created his own wind. The younger Alexa in my dream imitated him, and soon they were swinging their swords in tandem, side by side.

  “She’ll never be as good as me.” When I heard Marcel’s voice, the pain in my chest grew, turning into a fiery stab of regret. He sauntered over, with as much swagger as an eight-year-old boy was capable of mustering. He smirked at me, so confident.

  “Alexa, is that true?” Papa paused and looked at me.

  “No. I’m going to beat you someday, and then you’ll have to do my chores for a week.” I gripped the hilt of my sword harder as Marcel laughed and disappeared into the fog of memories again. I wanted to cry for him to come back, to let me see him, hear him. But he was gone. And Papa was fading now, too. Something was pulling me away, when all I wanted to do was stay here, to cling to the ghosts of my family.

  “Alexa,” my father said, reaching out for me. For some reason, his sword was gone. His gaze was intent on mine; he seemed so real. “You will beat him someday. You’ll beat all of us. You will be faster than anyone else. But the enemy won’t always attack with a sword. Be strong, my daughter. Use your strength, your mind, and your heart.”

  When I saw myself again, I looked as I did now — with a scarred face, wearing the uniform of the king’s guard. I reached and reached, but I couldn’t touch his outstretched fingers. He was disappearing into a whirl of mist that crept up his legs, covering his body bit by bit.

  “I believe you have the strength to overcome anything, my beautiful girl.” His voice was only a whisper when he looked straight into my eyes one last time. “My zhànshì nánwu¯.”

  And then he was gone and I was alone, standing in a sea of swirling gray fog, endless and terrifying.

  I jerked awake with a gasp. My heart raced, and my cheeks were wet with tears. Deeply shaken by the dream, I threw my legs over the bed and stood up. No more sleeping for me; king’s command or no, I was going down to the practice ring.

  The palace was stifling with the humidity of an afternoon storm as I hurried through the corridors. I headed outside, heedless of the rain coming down in torrents.

  I worked through my forms alone, fighting a horde of imaginary foes. I tried not to let myself think about the Blevonese soldier I’d killed earlier in the day. But my mind kept going back to the terrifying emptiness in that soldier’s eyes until he’d been about to die. Was it some sort of spell? Eljin would have known about it if it were, and he seemed as baffled as the rest of us.

  Jabbing, swiping, spinning in a fury of movement, I forced myself to think of something else. Anything else. But the alternative wasn’t much better — the memory of Vera smiling up at Damian through her eyelashes surged back up. Anger clutched my heart again, but this time, it was from a different source. I wasn’t the bearer of lily-white hands, but my hands — rough and reddened as they might be — were also the hands that had saved countless lives. Not only from the soldiers today, but from Iker. The scars I bore were proof of the battle I’d fought — and won. For once, as the rain cascaded over me, I didn’t let myself think of the lives I hadn’t been able to save. I’d saved Damian. I’d saved us all.

  And though I didn’t understand where the newest threat was coming from or why, I was determined to save Damian again. As many times as I had to, to keep him safe. I thought of my father’s words from my dream — that the enemy won’t always attack with a sword — and the unease in my gut grew stronger.

  When I was finished, my muscles burned and my hands ached from clenching the wet hilt of the practice sword, but my head felt much clearer. The heavy clouds above the jungle began to break apart. The rain had diminished to a misty drizzle, coating my skin with moisture but no longer drenching me.

  My boots squelched through the mud on my way back to the palace. I was still unused to seeing the open space where the breeding house had once stood, before Damian had demolished it shortly after taking the throne. Now all that remained was a pile of rubble that was slowly be
ing removed. The process would have been much faster if the army wasn’t so short staffed. And with a new threat looming, it didn’t look like it would get finished anytime soon.

  I hurried to my room to change into something dry before going to the council; I didn’t want them to realize I’d been out sparring by myself in the rain instead of sleeping.

  Once I’d changed into a clean, dry uniform and scraped my wet hair back into a short braid, I strapped on my sword and headed to the library. I figured the wet hair could be attributed easily enough to a bath.

  I reached up to knock on the door to the library just as it swung open and Eljin strode out. The door slammed shut behind him.

  “Alexa.” Eljin’s eyes widened in surprise above his ever-present mask when he saw me standing there. “I was just coming to wake you.”

  “Has something else happened?”

  “No, thankfully.” He gestured for me to follow him a little ways down the hall. When we were a good twenty feet away from the door, he stopped and faced me. “I understand that you need your rest, but we need you in there.” He paused, as though gathering his thoughts. “I know my country and I know our army — we don’t have any black sorcerers. The one orchestrating these attacks is not of Blevonese descent. I can guarantee that. And if a rogue sorcerer showed up, he would definitely not be given a position of power or control.”

  “But how certain can you be? A black sorcerer killed my parents with the Blevonese army. There were many attacks from black sorcerers during the war.”

  “Which is exactly why I wanted to come find you. I remember you said that when we were at my father’s castle, and it struck my father and me as being impossible.” Eljin’s eyes were intent on mine.

  “Are you saying that I lied about it? Or that I don’t understand what really happened?”

  “No — of course not. Based on what I know of their deaths, I completely agree that your parents were killed by a black sorcerer. I have no doubt about the veracity of your claim. However, I know for a fact that no Blevonese general or captain would allow a black sorcerer to work with him or remain under his command.”