Echoes of Silence

  I stepped back, and his hand dropped to his side. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “Cris,” he corrected.

  “Cris,” I said, wanting to put more distance between us until I better understood his motives. The silence stretched, and everything I could think of to say seeped into dangerous territory. My stomach squeezed tight.

  Finally, Cris said, “Tell me, Echo, what you know of magic.”

  My heart struggled against my ribs. My thoughts spun with stories of Nythinian hunting parties, the rumors of orange-eyed sorcerers who hummed hedges into warriors, and the realities of Princes who brought hundreds of young women to his compound in order to choose a wife.

  What kind of wife? A magician-wife? I didn’t know and found it impossible to replace the fear coiling through my system with frustration.

  I tried desperately to play his question off as nothing by waving one hand nonchalantly at the river. If he could sense my pulse, though, he would find it galloping. “Nothing of consequence.”

  Cris nodded, but a new edge had entered his eyes. One that spoke of mischief, of little boys who had buckets of ribbiting frogs in their mother’s kitchen sinks. “I know a little magic.”

  A smile sprang to my lips, surprising me. Ten years seemed to melt off his face when he spoke of magic. “Oh? Royal tutors, I suppose.” Nyth kept its magicians closely monitored, and surely the High King would only allow the best to teach his son.

  He drained the rest of his coffee as the youth left his face. “Yes, they tried. But most of what I was able to learn, I gained from trial and error.”

  I waited for him to continue, to tell me how powerful he was, but he didn’t. He studied me, as if I might snap my fingers and send a funnel cloud into the sky. I’d accomplished elemental magic in Iskadar, but I didn’t want him to know that.

  I suspected he knew already—after all, I’d fought his guards when they’d come to collect me—but I wouldn’t confirm it. If he was in Umon to find and control magicians the way his father did in Nyth, he was just as dangerous as the High King’s hunting parties.

  Yet the silks I wore testified that as the Prince’s wife, I would never want for anything. I didn’t know if I could truly marry him simply for his money. It felt much the same as him marrying me for my magic. Neither option felt genuine, or remotely right.

  I glanced at him, but found him admiring the river in the distance. I couldn’t make the pieces of Cris fit together. Here from Nyth, a country that had been expanding its empire through magical means, yet the Prince admired the landscape of Umon. The High King of Nyth had a reputation as dark as night, polluting magic and using it against his own subjects, but the Prince discussed magic as if it was normal breakfast conversation.

  “Why are—?”

  Bo interrupted my question with his harsh voice. “Your Majesty, your next appointment is here.”

  Eight

  “Sit here.” Bo pointed to a straight-backed chair and left. I’d been rushed out of the sunroom, down a hallway and into this closet of a room. It held a bare desk with a cushioned chair on one side and the hard one Bo had indicated on the other. Drapes held the sunlight hostage, casting the room in shadows and fear.

  I barely had space to turn around, let alone smooth my skirts to sit in the chair.

  “Sit, sit,” Bo said again as he re-entered the room. Another man followed him, and I wanted to shrink into the wall to avoid the sight of him. He wore a uniform that spoke captain instead of soldier, and his dark eyes broadcasted so much coldness I actually shivered. He was the second man from my rebound.

  “You have made the initial cut,” he said. I supposed he could have been congratulating me, but it sounded more like an execution order. “His Majesty has appointments with several girls today, so after we take care of a few of the finer details, you’ll be free for the day.”

  Free for the day sounded fantastic. I sat up straighter and pasted on a smile to show that I’d do anything to cooperate.

  “My name is Gibson, and I make sure we know everything about the girls.” He sounded like he’d been through this process several times before, and my suspicions about the Prince and his bride-finding excursions reared. Gibson dropped a thick sheaf of parchment on the desk in front of me. “I’ll need you to fill this out.”

  I flinched as he flicked a quill in my general direction. He waved his hand and a pillowed recliner sprang into existence. The sizzle of his magic set the silence in the room on fire.

  I felt a ribbon of magic tying him and Bo together. Bonds?

  Gibson settled into his recliner, leaning away from Bo in a subtle yet distinct manner. I glanced at Bo, catching a scathing glint in his eye as he glared at Gibson. If they were bonds, they were definitely not friends.

  Dangerous drifted through my head now. Bonded magicians who disliked each other usually meant one thing: They’d only bonded to gain power. They didn’t love magic, didn’t want to use it to heal the lands the way the magicians of Relina had intended, or bring relief to the weary the way the weavers of Relina did, or introduce calmness into the chaos the way the ancients expected mages to do.

  They simply wanted to possess as much power as possible and climb the ranks in the High King’s court. If magicians didn’t act as Bo and Gibson did, they were imprisoned. Living in the Prince’s suite surely outranked the dungeon.

  Since magicians couldn’t choose who they bonded with, I didn’t need to cast a song to know why Bo and Gibson had paired up. They were bonded magicians simply to advance their careers—and yet they were enemies. Dangerous now screamed through my mind as I scratched out answers on parchment.

  #

  An hour later, with my stomach rumbling and my nerves raw from the silent interrogation of Bo and Gibson, I walked toward the exit. The desperation to leave clouded my thoughts, but when Gibson leaned in close enough for me to smell his breath, I seized on the threshold.

  “If I find that you have lied in the slightest, girl, you will have me to answer to.”

  His breath smelled like he had eaten raw meat for breakfast, and I had no doubt that he would hunt me to the edges of the lands if it meant he could advance to the next level.

  A vein of tension stretched between us, his eyes growing angrier. I struggled with what to say, though Gibson clearly waited for something.

  He motioned to the door, a fast flap of the hand that said Get out now! I fumbled for the door handle behind me, and when I found it, I spilled into the hallway.

  I stood there for a moment, collecting my thoughts. I expected Matu to emerge from behind the tapestry and take me to lunch. When he didn’t, every instinct told me to find a way out of this place. I’d taken three steps down the hall when someone came up the spiraled ramp.

  Castillo appeared, his arm linked with a platinum-haired beauty with her head thrown back in silent laughter. As they advanced, she whispered in his ear, her lips much too close to his, and his face showed a hint of a blush while his eyes sparkled with laughter.

  “Here you are, Athe—oh, Echo. You’re done early.” He disentangled himself from the exotic Athe and glanced nervously over his shoulder before meeting my gaze again. “Has Matu not met you?”

  “As you can see,” I said, trying to decipher this raging storm inside my chest and the guilty hint in Castillo’s eyes.

  Something churned in my stomach, that same something that had made me trust him in the market just yesterday. The magic between us felt like a physical link, like it could become a bond. I took a step toward him, dangerous hope beating in my chest.

  He shook his head, a clear warning that an exchange in mixed company could prove fatal. I forced my feet backward, my mind reeling from the possibility of bonding with Castillo.

  #

  “Free for the rest of the day” turned into a nightmare. Castillo dropped off his giggling girlfriend and made a hasty exit. I barely knew him, but I somehow felt abandoned in my moment of greatest need.

  Much to my relief, Matu show
ed up moments later to escort me to lunch. He didn’t say anything as an explanation for his tardiness, and he didn’t offer me his arm. I didn’t want to take it anyway, but it still felt like a personal slight. The suffocating storm inside my chest hadn’t lessened, and I couldn’t identify the true cause of it: A possible bond with Castillo, or seeing him with another girl hanging on his arm.

  As Matu and I reached the bottom of the ramp, a chorus reached my ears, weak at first, wafting like a feather carried on a warm summer current. It stirred into a haunting melody of sadness mingled with hope. A magical song meant to infuse comfort into the soul of one and encourage dying in another. In Iskadar, I’d participated in only one such ritual after an accident at the granary had crushed a man’s legs. His wife benefited from the comfort; he died with a smile gracing his lips.

  Now, I stood frozen in the hallway. The melody rose into a glorious high that caused a spark of contentment to flare within my breast. In the next moment, it fell, straining for a high note that the casting magicians couldn’t quite reach. If my voice added to theirs, the song would be complete, that high note recognized, the holes in the harmonies plugged.

  The music called to me, urging me to come forward and weave my voice around the alto register, through the notes, and establish myself as what I truly was.

  My muscles seized as I took a jerky step in the direction of the song. I couldn’t open my mouth and let my magic fly. If I did, the Prince’s guards would confine me, extract my voice for their vicious spells, and force my magic into bottles and trinkets.

  I groaned, my body hungry to tread the path toward that magical song, but my mind screamed at me to flee. My skin felt stitched on wrong and I squeezed my eyes shut as if I could quiet the music that way. The need to join my voice to that song nearly crippled me. I gritted my teeth as a low, guttural growl escaped my throat.

  “Echo?” Matu placed his hand on my elbow, but I remained rooted to the spot.

  I shook my head, now humming to myself in an attempt to drown out the spell-song. I opened my eyes and managed to take a few more steps before I had to reach for Matu’s arm. “I need—I cannot—”

  He cast quick glances up and down the hall. “Just breathe,” he instructed. “I’ll get you back to your suite.” His touch brought strength where I had none, and though he kept swiveling his head, searching for spies, he moved with steadiness. Even with the distance and the closed doors, the melody never left my head. My voice knew exactly where it would fit, the gaps in the song obvious and glaring, even in silence.

  Matu knocked on the door as he opened it, calling, “She heard the singers.”

  Helena took my hand, but I could barely feel it. Pressure, no true touch. I moaned, knowing I needed to release the magic building in my body.

  “Helena, Matu,” I said. “Don’t tell him. Please, you cannot tell him.” By the time I finished speaking, my words wisped to the rafters like ghosts.

  “My dear child, come lie down.” Helena pressed her hand on the small of my back and guided me to the bed. I sank onto it, my breath coming quick and irregular. Helena said something to Matu, who replied in a hushed tone. I couldn’t hear them over the memory of that magical singing.

  Rebounded images from spell-songs I hadn’t sung streamed through my head. They displayed people I’d never seen, information I did not want. Though I hadn’t voiced a single note, I felt sure my magic was going to tear me apart, unraveling my mind one image at a time.

  The only way to purge myself of the haunting melody was to release my power. But I couldn’t use it, not without a bond, a way to control it. An image of Castillo burned into my mind. If he were here, could he help me tame the magic?

  Helena stroked my hair. “Let it out, child. You have to let it out.”

  I struggled to keep the magic from consuming us both. Oake once told me he’d emptied his magic into the river when he was without his bond. “Any element,” he’d counseled. “But water works best. It is the life blood of the earth.”

  Last year as I journeyed to Umon, I’d buried my fingers in the earth to help bleed the magic from my body. The hunters had been so close, I could hear their voices twining together to locate any magician within ten miles. By ridding myself of the magic, and with the help of several dense blueberry bushes, I’d managed to elude them.

  Here in the suite, I felt the same way, with only one option to avoid detection. “Help me to the bathing chamber,” I managed to say. Helena half dragged me to the small room and filled the tub, both with hot water and her soothing spell-songs.

  I waited until she helped me ease into the water before I began to sing. My voice echoed clear and loud, like it had so many years ago inside that empty bucket. Now, the beautifully carved stone floors and tiled walls received my voice with gladness. The magic raced out with my words at first, sending multi-colored sparks up to the ceiling. The water heated like a kettle about to boil.

  Helena massaged my shoulders and whispered grandmotherly comforts. The door opened, and someone joined us. I didn’t have the energy to open my eyes, though much of my power had ebbed away. The remaining magic faded into nothing, as if someone was siphoning it away, shouldering it, bearing it with me as Grandmother had once done.

  “I will see that no one knows about this,” a man said, and I had just enough awareness to recognize Castillo’s voice. The door closed, leaving the traces of remaining magic to settle on me again.

  No one could know of this most recent lapse, especially here in the compound. Not with Gibson nearby and the Prince’s hunger for magical power so apparent.

  “They cannot know,” I said.

  “They won’t,” Helena promised, causing me to wonder why she would protect me, why Castillo had just run to cover my magic again. “Come, you need to rest.”

  I nodded and let her dress me in my nightclothes though I still hadn’t eaten lunch. A knot of worry seethed in my stomach, for I didn’t know if I could trust Castillo or Helena. They knew about my capabilities, possibly for quite some time. And if they did, perhaps my secret was no longer mine to keep.

  I sighed as I closed my eyes and journeyed toward unconsciousness.

  “How is she?” I heard through the film of slumber.

  Instead of answering, Helena asked, “Does the Prince know?”

  “No, no one saw her. And I took care of Cris,” Castillo said. His fingers brushed against mine, and he lifted the magical load from me, the way Grandmother had once done. The way bonds could.

  My mouth curled into a smile as I drifted into the darkness of sleep.

  Nine

  I dream of magic, of faraway lands where magicians roam freely and spells entwine with the dust in the atmosphere. My mother walks resolutely from person to person, clutching Grandmother’s aged portrait of my father, rattling it in everyone’s face.

  They shake their heads sadly and paint on frowns. She begins to sob, and I see her hair has changed from the rich color of freshly dug earth to spider web gray. She falls to her knees, and I wish to do something to comfort her.

  When I’ve felt like that, Grandmother wraps me in a hug and whispers exactly what I need to hear. I rush to my mother’s side and place my arms around her.

  She shoves me away, her eyes wild and her fingers clawing like talons. “It’s your fault he died!” she yells. “It’s your fault!”

  #

  I lunged into consciousness, my mother’s words shaking the room the same way they’d rattled the sky when I’d tried to climb down the fire chute. Darkness pressed against me, except for a faint glow of a trimmed lamp near the bathroom. Sweat made the bedclothes stick to my body, and I pushed the blankets away. The rug sheltered my feet from the cold, but I had to step onto the chilled stones to get to the bathing chamber.

  In the corner of the room, light seeped through a crack beneath a door I hadn’t noticed before. I crept toward it and placed my hand on the knob. When I heard voices, I drew back, confused as to whose room would connect so intima
tely to mine. The voices ebbed and flowed, never staying in one place long enough for me to identify them.

  My stomach rumbled for food. I’d devoured everything in sight when Helena had brought dinner to the room. Soon after, I’d fallen asleep again. With a proper bond this physical debilitation would decrease.

  Judging by the depth of the darkness, I guessed night ruled the sky. But the people belonging to the voices spoke as if it were midday. Their volume increased, fueling my curiosity. I twisted the knob and let the door settle open. Two inches of light spilled into the bathing chamber, and I shrank back into the shadows along the wall.

  Helena’s voice met my ears. “She will be chosen. You must be sure to assign Matu as her guard.”

  My heart seized on her words, denying outright that I would be chosen as the Prince’s bride. How could she possibly know that?

  “Her magic is too great. Cris cannot resist it. She uses it without even knowing!” Scuffling noises punctuated Helena’s words, and I realized she was pacing beyond the door.

  “You must talk to her,” came the second voice, and this time I recognized Castillo. “She speaks without thinking, which is dangerous business, especially around Gibson and Bo. But they know nothing of her abilities, nor does Cris. I made sure of that.”

  I wondered at his casual use of the Prince’s name, and remembered the last thing I’d heard before losing consciousness. Castillo’s voice. I took care of Cris.

  “Did you use the memory charm on him?” Helena asked, her voice low and tight.

  “Just as you taught me, Mother.” He sounded on the edge of annoyance, and my insides iced at the revelation that Helena was Castillo’s mother. I also realized that Castillo had rescued me—again. How many times had he done so? Three I could name. Surely there were others I could not. Bringing me to his mother certainly fell under the category of protection.

  Castillo said something I couldn’t hear at which Helena gave a snort of disbelief. He continued in the same unwavering tone. “It’s true, Mother. Cris suspects her to possess fantastic magic. In fact, the small amount of magic he possesses was brought to life during their exchange.”