She was right. I didn’t really have a choice, except for whether to keep fighting the inevitable.
I had one more question, though, about a term I had heard recently. “What is mindwalking?”
Araceli looked startled. She looked at Lily, who said, “I mentioned it to him. He had done it accidentally and run into a little bit of trouble.”
“I see. Well,” Araceli replied, “a mindwalker is someone who can step into another person’s thoughts, to speak, or to see what they see. It is a required ability for anyone in the Mercy, so naturally your mother was quite talented in that area. It can be a dangerous pastime when used idly, so I recommend avoiding the shm’Ecl until you have more control. In the meantime, if we have trouble reaching your magic through traditional lessons, perhaps we can see whether you can recreate the fluke that led you to mindwalk the first time. Assuming you intend to study, of course.”
She said this in such a way that I knew she had seen my decision on my face. I nodded. I would study my magic, and then I would return to Wyvern’s Court. Perhaps somewhere along the way, I could learn something that would help Hai.
“Excellent,” Araceli said. “Come with me, Nicias. Lillian, would you care to assist us?”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Araceli started to lead us both toward the courtyard.
When I hesitated, recalling the warnings I had been given about this yard, she turned. “Most of the city is wrapped in spells to keep you from drowning in your power before you can control it. Unfortunately, those same spells will hamper your ability to learn, until you have the conscious control to reach past them. In this courtyard, your magic will be at its strongest, stronger even than it would be off the island.”
That was exactly what I was afraid of.
“You won’t be able to come here without me for a while yet,” Araceli assured me, “but so long as I am with you, I will be able to protect you.”
I winced as the light seemed to brighten and the air warmed around me the instant I stepped onto the soft white sand.
Araceli took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, and all at once I sensed the magic that she exuded. I fell instinctively into a soldier’s ready, right hand grasping left wrist beneath my wings. I waited for her instruction.
“Put your hands up, mirrored to mine,” she told me.
I did as she ordered, moving into what I knew only as a common starting position in serpiente dance. Arms crossed at the wrists, the backs of my hands and forearms lightly touched the same on her.
“Ahnmik’s symbol is a pure white falcon, diving through a black sky. Close your eyes and see that,” Araceli ordered.
I did as she said, and found that the image came easily to my mind’s eye. I hoped that I would do as well here as I had elsewhere throughout my life. My parents had feared for my safety in sending me here, and if I did not return in a few days’ time, they would begin to worry that I was not going to.
“I’m going to blindfold you now,” Araceli said. “You are used to using your eyes. I hope to make you learn to see another way.”
Her arms once again pressed lightly against mine as she tied the blindfold and returned to our original position.
“You were raised a warrior, so this exercise should be easiest for you,” she said.
That was the only warning she gave. I felt the flare of her magic as if it lashed out in an attack—and I knew I had to respond.
If she had thrown something at me, my arms would have lifted to catch it. Now my magic did the same, and I had no conscious thought as to how.
I knew we never moved physically, but we might as well have fought, danced, run, flown. The magic rippled between our still bodies.
The activity stretched until I had no sense of the world Araceli had blinded me to. There was only the power, shifting and swirling in patterns complex and simple at the same time, bright and dark, silent yet singing.
Sweat was beading on my brow, and my breath and heartbeat were racing when she finally broke contact. My body swayed with exhaustion and I stumbled down to one knee. Lily was there immediately, her touch soft and familiar as she offered me a cup full of cold, clear water. I reached up to remove the blindfold, thinking the lesson was over.
Not yet, Nicias, Araceli said. Stand up.
I hesitated, feeling every ache in my body all at once.
Stand up, she ordered me again.
Standing right then was perhaps the most difficult thing I had ever done, but I forced myself to obey her command. The sun, which had previously warmed the front of my body, was now an unwelcome weight on my back.
Araceli’s magic struck me harder, and it was Lily’s hand on my arm that held me up, even as I felt my magic sluggishly respond.
Release him, Lillian, Araceli said, sternly. Nicias, try to push back at me.
Tentatively, I reached out, trying to do consciously what I had done instinctively before. I managed … something, I thought.
Again.
I tried again, and when I fumbled, I felt Araceli’s power slap across mine.
“Enough,” she finally declared, pulling back. I felt a tug as she untied the blindfold; then I was blinking against the light of Ahnmik. The day had disappeared while we had been working, but the white towers glowed softly, as if reflecting moonlight that the clouds above concealed.
It felt as if the ground shifted beneath me; I braced myself against the dizzy spell, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. Araceli nodded to Lily, who came back to my side, steadying me. I flinched when she first touched my arm. My skin was badly sunburned, but it healed instantly at her touch.
Again she offered water, and I drank greedily.
“Ahnmik’s magic is not gentle and its study is not easy. We will need to work on your endurance before you can master it,” Araceli said. For the moment, all I desired was sleep. “I will see you tomorrow for your next lesson. For now, rest. Lillian, help him get home safely.”
LILY AND I walked toward my rooms mostly in silence.
Part of me felt exhilarated by the lesson, and the memories of the shifting power. Another part felt acute frustration. Never in my life, in classes or training or any other form of study, had I worked so hard and accomplished so little. I didn’t know what I had learned, if anything.
Lily put a hand on my arm, drawing me back from my bleak thoughts as we reached the doorway to my rooms.
“Careful,” she said. “You’ve burned a great deal of power today—more than you’re to used losing so fast. Sometimes it can lead to melancholy. Are you hungry?”
I shook my head. “Strangely, no.”
“Not strangely,” she corrected. “It’s normal, especially the first few days. You will learn quickly that your magic can sustain you. But watch out; as soon as your body remembers that it requires food, you’ll wake up starving.”
She pushed open the door, and I followed her in, watching the lights emerge from the patterns in the walls as we entered.
“Why don’t you take down your wings and relax?” she suggested. Her own wings slid against her body and faded away as she spoke, hidden until she was ready to walk about the city again. She stretched, arching her back and twining her fingers together behind her.
I did the same, but flinched as I discovered a sea of pulled muscles. They would stiffen that night and ache the next day.
“I’ve never worn my Demi form for this long in my life,” I said, carefully rolling my shoulders to try to work out some of the kinks.
Lily winced in sympathy and moved behind me.
“If you’ll lie down, I’ll rub your back for you.”
“That would be wonderful,” I said before I’d had a chance to think the answer through.
I had been raised close enough to the serpiente that casual touch did not shock me, but I was still very avian at heart, and I had a moment of unease as I lay on the bed, head resting on my hands, with an attractive woman beside me. Even more so the first time her palms smooth
ed down my back.
I had never thought of Lily that way before, because neither of us had ever been available. I had always known that she would have to return to Ahnmik. And I had always been one of Oliza’s Wyverns.
“You are either angry, frightened, or nervous,” Lily said. “I don’t think I frighten you, and I certainly hope I don’t anger you.”
She left unspoken the last possibility. As she sat on the bed beside me, I started to push myself up.
We still were not available.
Lily’s gentle hands on my shoulders directed me back down. “Relax, Nicias.” Her voice betrayed the laughter she was trying to subdue. “Relax.”
I took a deep breath and concentrated on doing as she said. Eyes closed, I let myself think of nothing more than the feeling of sore, tense muscles being worked out.
Beyond where her hands touched my skin, I felt a faint tickling sensation, a warm buzz that made me so calm I thought I might sink through the mattress. Magic. I recognized it, but the desire to question her drifted away.
“Much better.” She sighed. Her hair swept across my skin as she leaned over my back, and I would have tensed again if I could have summoned the energy to do so.
She brushed my hair to the side, and her fingers slid through the indigo feathers that grew at my nape. “Relaxed now?”
Suddenly … not exactly.
And even less so when her lips touched my shoulder, silently offering and asking at the same time.
I sat up, and this time Lily did not stop me. She just flopped onto the bed, letting out a heavy breath.
“Nicias—”
“You know I have to go back to Oliza,” I said. I pushed myself to my feet, wanting very much to hold Lily, but fighting not to. “I can’t stay on Ahnmik. And I know you need to stay. So we can’t—”
“Nicias, I’m no avian sweetheart,” she said softly. “I’m not offering marriage. I’m offering companionship, a heartbeat beside yours.” She sighed, her blouse stretching taut across her chest, which did not help me keep control. “You’ve lived so close to the serpiente, how can it still be alien to you to sleep with another life beside you?”
I took a step back, needing to put more distance between us.
The problem was that it wasn’t completely alien to me. As a child, I had shared a serpiente-type nest with Oliza; her cousin, Salem; and a few others. I had stopped doing so before I had joined the Wyverns, but I often missed the warmth and company as I slept.
“I know I will never be first to you,” she said, as if reading my mind. “You have sworn your loyalty to Oliza much as I have sworn my loyalty to the white Lady, and nothing—nothing—will ever precede her in your heart. Duty will forever come first to you; I admire that because it is the same for me. But loyalty does not have to displace every other kind of love. For right now, neither of us is called upon. For tonight, we can just … be.”
There was no arguing with that.
Lily was right. Oliza had my vow. I would give my life for my queen. Until that day, however, that life should be mine to do with as I chose.
Before I could speak or make a move, Lily let out a frustrated prayer of “Ecl spare the girl who waits for you to make up your mind.”
Then she kissed me, standing on her toes and leaning against my body. Tentatively, I let myself put an arm around her back, holding her close, and I felt her lips smile against mine before she drew back just enough to speak.
“If you want me to go, I’ll go,” she said, softly, blue eyes vulnerable. “But I would rather stay. And I think you would rather I stayed.”
She stayed. I stayed. The night was marvelous, and I had one vivid thought before I fell asleep: I could get used to this.
And then I was somewhere else entirely, back upon the nightmare landscape that was now familiar to me: Hai’s world. Black sand dunes appeared, frozen forever in place. Far away I could see the high turrets of a castle, but when I took a step toward them, I heard an ominous hiss.
The black cobra reared its head.
I took a step back, willing myself elsewhere, and soon found that I stood before another figure.
Darien was pacing furiously, dressed in suede slacks, vest and boots. Her white-gold hair flowed behind her, loose and wild, not quite in time with her movements.
“Before you ask,” she said sharply, “yes, you are asleep. And yes, I am really speaking to you. It is difficult to do so here. You should come back to the hall where they keep me.”
She paused and looked directly at me with eyes that seemed to shift color: from green, to blue, to violet, and finally to pale gray.
“I can’t right now,” I said, my own voice alien to me. “I’m not quite sure why I should, either.”
“Fool child,” she spat. “Trusting fool child. A woman bats her eyes at you, and you think she’s harmless.” She shoved my shoulders, sending me stumbling on the ice, which was suddenly slicker than before. “Another woman shares stories of how it hurt—oh, how sad she was—when she tortured her son for days and exiled him from his homeland. And you trust them both with your body, your mind, and your magic.”
“Do I have any more reason to trust you? You’re supposed to be mad.”
Her face fell. As she sighed, a cold wind whipped across the ice, making all the hairs on my arms rise as I shivered.
“Yes, mad,” she whispered. “Mad for challenging the white Lady, for daring to defy her. For daring to despise the woman your father once called mother, and your lover calls Queen. You didn’t realize that, did you? When Lillian speaks of her Empress, she means Araceli. She is guilty of treason in her heart if not in action. If I was still sworn to my lady Empress, I would have brought dear Lily before her long ago.”
“You’re not endearing yourself to me,” I said coldly.
She looked at me as if I had not even spoken. “But you, Nicias, you are not the Empress or her heir. You may even have some sort of a heart, despite the poison from your royal blood.”
That was a rousing endorsement. “Why do you hate Araceli so?”
“Why does the cat hate a mouse?” she returned. “Why, more like, does the mouse hate a cat?” She whipped her head to the side, as if hearing something else. “Not now.”
“Darien?”
“I thought no one remembered my name anymore, save Servos,” she said, softly. “All those who mattered have forgotten. It is nice to hear you speak it.”
Darien’s eyes burned violet as she looked at me.
“A word of advice, prince, for your travels in our fair city. Everyone on this island is a pawn. You, me. Syfka. Cjarsa. Everyone. It’s accepted; it’s expected.” She sighed and whispered, “I borrowed a feather of your soul, son of the son of she who shines in the darkness, she who glints on ice. I borrowed it and kept it safe.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“I borrowed it and made it dance for me, and it said …” She let out a falcon’s shriek that made the ice shatter in all directions. I struggled to stay out of the water underneath, but felt myself falling.
“It said, son of the son of the Lady, that you would destroy an empire.”
I fell into the water and felt it close over my head before I struggled back to the surface to find Darien kneeling on a patch of unbroken ice, offering her hand.
“I could never forgive myself if I let Kel’s child drown here,” she whispered.
I took her hand, and she pulled me up, whispering, Come to me, Nicias. We need to speak.
Then I was awake, shuddering from the dream that wasn’t a dream. I needed to go to her. I needed to know what she meant.
Lily snuggled against me, her eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, looking much bluer at this hour. “Something wrong?”
“No, no,” I answered, perhaps too hastily. “Go back to sleep. I need to talk to someone.”
She threw an arm around my waist, snuggling against my side as I tried to stand up. “It’s the middle of the night. You don’t need to talk
to anyone right now.”
“I should—”
“Nicias, go back to sleep,” she said, laughing and reaching toward me to run a hand up my chest. “Or, if you don’t want to sleep, I’m sure we can find a way to pass the time. But if you wander around Ahnmik alone at this hour, you’re asking the roads—if not Ecl herself—for trouble. Whatever it is, it can wait.”
I sighed, relaxing back into her arms. I didn’t even know anymore why I had wanted to see Darien. She hated Araceli and Lily, and her own daughter had shown me how dangerous shm’Ecl were, despite their apparent stillness. I had no sane reason to go to Darien now, and plenty of reasons to stay with Lily.
THE NEXT MORNING dawned cool and misty—or so I was told. By the time Lily and I woke and greeted the day, most of the fog had burned off and the air was as pleasant as in springtime. I awoke to find slender silver lines along my chest and stomach. When I asked about them, Lily blushed.
She brushed a hand across the marks, making my breath catch as the magic oscillated. “Harmless,” she said. “Think of them as … love marks. Though I can remove them if they worry you.”
With her eyes that beautiful indigo, her hair still rumpled from sleep and her hands on my chest, there wasn’t much that could worry me.
We bathed and dressed, then emerged into Ahnmik with the languor that always follows deep sleep. Lily unfurled her wings as soon as we stepped into the outside world, reminding me to do the same.
It also reminded me of a question. “I was told that outsiders and mongrels”—I still hesitated to say that word quemak, though I had accepted that the falcons used it differently—“are not allowed to wear their wings in the city, but when I saw Hai among the shm’Ecl, she was wearing hers.”
Lily’s expression was grim as she said, “The Empress favored the girl, and made an exception to the law. She regretted it when Hai became a poignant example of why mongrels are forbidden in the sky. The city is not kind to those it does not consider its own.”
More say that they are imbued with thousands of years of magic from those who live here, soaked with their dreams and thoughts, and thus given a personality of their own. Lily had said that to me earlier, when I had asked whether the roads were alive. Now the memory prompted a dark thought.