“Or what?”
“Or they’re not bothered by the prospect of being arrested and tried for treason.”
Aurora’s brow furrowed. “Treason? For buying little baubles and jars of magic that might not even be real?”
“It’s real, though far more is bought and sold on the black market than just storm magic. One bauble is more than enough to ruin your life if you’re caught by the wrong person. I was shocked the prince would visit such a place. His family is rumored to be ruthless with lawbreakers in Locke. At least here, the worst people face is banishment.”
Perhaps she’d been trying to scare the princess just a little, enough for her to grasp the gravity of the situation. But Aurora shook her head. “No. That can’t be. These must be exaggerations to scare people off.”
Nova tangled her fingers, curling and uncurling them in agitation. “The only reason you can’t believe it is because you live in a different reality from the rest of us.” Aurora started to protest, but Nova continued: “You are a Stormling. You never knew of the market’s existence because you do not need it. When the storms hit, you have a spacious shelter. You know that the palace where you live will be protected at all costs. You needn’t fear the cold or heat or hunger. You don’t have to worry about the finite number of jobs in the kingdom or take lower and lower pay to keep from losing your position to someone willing to do the work for less, only to then worry you won’t have enough to pay the taxes required to remain a citizen. The rest of us are always keenly aware that we could not survive outside these city walls, and must do everything to maintain our livelihoods within them. So treason might seem absurd to you, but for the rest of us, it’s a fact of life.”
The princess stood still and silent, and Nova feared she had gone too far, been too blunt. Aurora began to shake her head slowly, and her muttered words were soft. “You are right. I thought I understood what it was like to be ungifted, but I realize now it’s about more than lacking magic.”
Nova shifted uncomfortably. It was true … the majority of people lacked magic altogether. But there were some, like her, who were neither Stormling nor ungifted, born with the gifts of the old tribes. She did not know why. Neither of her parents had magic, nor had any ancestors as far as she knew. Nova was unlucky in that her elemental connection was the hardest to control and hide. She knew that other witches even studied magic beyond their element, using incantations for spells outside their natural ability, but most days it was all Nova could do to keep her volatile fire from spilling out.
Aurora continued: “If there’s one thing I know it’s that freedom shouldn’t feel like a noose around your neck. Nor should the gift of magic be wielded as a weapon. Forgive me for my ignorance, Nova. I have lived too long isolated in my own private world, and there is much I do not know.”
Nova winced. “No. It’s I who should ask forgiveness. I should never have spoken to you in such a manner. It was—”
Aurora scooped up Nova’s hands in her own and squeezed tightly. Nova waited for the fire to rush to where their skin touched, but it stayed caged. She never realized how little human contact she had these days until she experienced it again.
“Never apologize for being honest with me,” Rora said. “No matter the differences between us, I will always count you a friend. I would rather you offend me a thousand times than hold the truth from your tongue.”
Nova blinked in shock. Kindness from the princess did not surprise her, but a promise of friendship did. Nova thought that possibility had ended long ago.
“I should see what he wants,” Aurora said, gesturing in the direction they’d left Cassius.
The princess moved to the door, hesitating with her hand on the knob. Her back was rigid, and her head tipped up to the ceiling as if she might find some answer there.
Nova did not know what had happened the night she found the princess crying outside her room, but she knew from watching Aurora that such a display of emotion was rare for her now. Whatever had happened … it was the prince’s fault. Nova had been on the receiving end of his intimidation, and it had taken all of her concentration to keep her fire from slipping free in the face of that man. She did not envy Aurora’s fate as his bride.
* * *
Rora took a few moments to gather her composure before stepping out into the sitting room, leaving Nova behind. A small part of her felt better knowing that she was there. Not that she thought Cassius would purposely hurt her. But having him here in her rooms was akin to turning her back on one of those big cats that stalked the grasslands southwest of Pavan. In fact, he was pacing like one when she opened the door to the hallway. He did not immediately sit after he entered, walking instead along the bookshelf that spanned the entire length of one wall, occasionally stopping to peruse the spines of the books.
“What was it that you wanted?”
Rora sounded weary to her own ears, and he studied her carefully before replying, “Why don’t we sit down? We have a lot to discuss.”
She sank onto the corner of a settee, and exhaustion swept over her. Even though she slept after fainting at the market, she still wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for another day. Perhaps two.
My apologies, Pavan. I cannot do my sacred duty and help fight the first storm of the Rage season. I will be too busy with my nap.
Cassius sank onto the settee beside her. The piece was built for two, but she imagined the maker envisioned her and another girl sitting here, talking away about whatever it was that normal princesses were supposed to talk about. Cassius was very much a man, and to fit, he sat close enough that their sides pressed together.
He reached over and plucked one of her hands from her lap. Lacing their fingers together, he rested the back of her hand on his hard thigh. A lump formed in Rora’s throat, and she casually leaned her upper body away from him.
“You said you spoke to my mother.”
“Yes, she came to see my father early this morning.”
That made Rora sit up straighter. “About?”
He pushed her hand flat against his thigh, circling his callused thumb over her sensitive palm. “Are you well? Your injury?” His thumb dragged from her palm up the length of her middle finger. She considered making him feel guilty for the knife incident but knew it was smarter to put him at ease. “I worried when you weren’t in your rooms.”
“The wound was minor.” He certainly did not need to know she had fainted from blood loss after following him to an illegal market.
“I cannot … I am not certain I have ever even made an apology. It’s not something my father believes in. But I am sorry. I promise I will never risk you again.”
She studied him. If she did not know better, she would think he was truly upset. “What is life without risk?”
“Indeed.” He pulled her hand to his mouth and placed a long but chaste kiss on the center of her palm. He closed his eyes as if savoring the moment. Rora’s heart thumped uncomfortably. The sooner she found a way to end their betrothal, the better. She was not sure how long she could keep pretending like this. It did strange things to her heart and head.
“You did not tell me where you were this morning.” That quickly he shed the softness, his tone turning demanding.
She fought the urge to pull her hand away from his grasp, and said, “I wanted some fresh air after being confined to my bed for a day. Is that acceptable to you?”
Well, she’d contained most of her anger. She would count that successful enough.
One side of his mouth curled up. “Quite acceptable. I like that you enjoy the outdoors. My … brother’s fiancée, before she passed … well, the ocean whispered just outside the gates of our castle, but I don’t think she ever set a toe in the sand.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the ocean.” She’d been fascinated since she first read The Tale of Lord Finneus Wolfram, and it had become her favorite. And every time she’d read it since, the hunger to experience it for herself increased. “I’ve read about it. About ships sailing out int
o the deep, searching for other lands, safer ones. But the closest I’ve ever gotten is rivers and lakes.”
“It’s not the same. Someday, I’ll take you. There’s this lagoon a little way up the coast from home toward the ruins of Calibah. It’s like a little private paradise, and the water is a gorgeous crystal blue, and you can see all the way down to the smooth pebbles at the bottom. I think you’d love it there.”
She probably would. Perhaps the only thing that fascinated her more than the ocean was the fall of the city of Calibah. That plus the ocean would captivate her completely. And she hated that he seemed to know this. That he could read her so easily. But she didn’t trust him, and she wasn’t sure she trusted herself either. “What did my mother discuss with your father?”
His brows furrowed, and his hand tightened on hers. “We’re moving up the wedding date.”
“What?”
“Your mother said that you’ve always wanted a wedding outdoors, and she was worried that the season change could ruin that possibility. A patrol spotted a storm coming in off the western coast, near Calibah, and set the signal fires. It might be a few days before it reaches this far inland, but it’s heading this way, and it’s massive. So we’re getting married tomorrow before it arrives.”
Funny. Rora felt like it already had. Like a twister had dropped from the sky, ripping through the roof and throwing her world into a maelstrom. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
She struggled to stay calm, to keep her expression neutral. But her body revolted, and tears pressed at the corners of her eyes, nausea roiling in her belly. She stood quickly, fleeing to the window. It was easier when she could see the sky in front of her, could see a way out.
But her reprieve was short-lived. Rora felt Cassius step up behind her before he spoke. “Maybe it’s better this way. No more ceremonies. No more dresses you hate. We’ll get married, and then we’ll get on with our lives.”
Get on with their lives? The future was always scary. Rora knew that. But she couldn’t fight the sinking feeling in her stomach, like she was drowning. Like she’d lost her way in the water and didn’t know up from down, and her limbs were filled with lead, and she would never find the surface again.
“Why do you want to marry me?” The question was out of her mouth before she knew exactly what she was doing. But once it was, she could not stop. “Why leave behind your home and everyone you know to be the king behind the queen? You’ll have to answer to me, give up the Locke name and take mine. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who would enjoy playing politics while his wife rules a kingdom.”
Part of her thought that if he admitted to his hunger for power now, if he told the truth, then perhaps she could salvage it all.
His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“And I destroyed the trust you gave me with your knives.”
She did not answer him. Just kept her cold gaze fixed on that handsome face.
“I’ll earn it back, Aurora,” he said fiercely. “I promise you that. And I do not make promises I don’t intend to keep. As for why I wanted to marry you? I never felt that I quite fit in my family. Maybe the king behind the queen isn’t the most ideal position, but it’s a far sight better than second heir.” He took her hand, surrounding it with both of his. “Truthfully, Aurora. I am very much looking forward to a life here in Pavan. A life with you.”
He was spinning his webs of charm as always, but that last sentence almost rang true to her ears.
Cassius continued: “We will be embarking on our life together not just as man and woman, but as king and queen. Ours is the first wedding of two royal Stormling families in over a century. We represent a historic alliance. Since the storm is due to arrive soon after our wedding … what if we fought it? Together? Between the two of us, we cover most storm affinities known to man. Our children will be the most powerful Stormlings the world has ever seen, and it would be good for people to see us working together, fighting together. It would send a strong message as our first act as husband and wife.”
Rora played along, saying the right words, smiling the right smile, and nodding, but her mind wasn’t in it. Not really. She was outside herself. Her heart grew calm and steady and quiet—the kind of quiet that came before the Rage season. As if the whole land was bracing itself for the battle to come. All the nerves and the confusing emotions melted away, and she was nothing more than a series of actions cobbled together by instinct alone.
That was what happened to an animal when it was cornered. When the danger was high and adrenaline took over. Reason disappeared then, and the only thing left was an instinct older than blood and bones. And her instinct? It told her two things.
To lie.
And to run.
A door snapped closed, and her concentration sharpened; the world no longer blurred around the edges. Cassius had left, and Rora could barely recall the end of their conversation. She leaped into action and threw open the door to her bedroom. Nova straightened from where she’d been absentmindedly dusting around the room. Rora strode toward her bed where Nova had folded the traveling cloak. Picking up the worn fabric, she asked, “Can you get me more clothes like this? Nondescript. Pants, no dresses?”
“What do you need them for?” Nova asked.
Rora looked at her. At the girl who used to be her best friend, and might still be. And even though everything else was chaos and confusion, she felt undeniably sure about something for the first time in years. “I’m making my own future.”
Citizenship—whether by birth or petition—guarantees the right to live and work in Pavan under the protection of the Stormling crown. Rights may be revoked in the event that a citizen is found guilty of a criminal action or fails to surrender the required taxation.
—The Governing Tenets of Pavan, Article 2: Pavanian Citizenship
8
Rora spent the day pretending, which was not that different from her usual day, except this time there was hope beyond the lies. As she made preparations, she couldn’t quite admit to herself aloud what she was planning.
She was a princess without the power to keep her kingdom, a girl whose future had been decided for her. That was the cold hard truth. But it didn’t have to be. If she had learned anything last night, it was that the world wasn’t as clear-cut as she had always believed. And between the bad choices and the worse choices, perhaps there was another road that she had never known existed until last night.
She expected to change her mind as the day went on, that she might come to her senses. Instead the world seemed to be affirming her reckless decision.
She overheard a conversation between the queen and one of her advisers: “It’s the Rage season, Lord Delrick. If he wants a Stormling guard to take him to Finlagh again, it will cost him. He agrees to my price, or he takes his chances on his own in the wildlands.”
Rora spied a pile of tax documents on the queen’s desk, the top one of which read OVERDUE in big, bold letters. When she flipped through the stack, a few papers had a large red x covering the entirety of the page. Did her mother really banish defenseless people to the mercy of the wildlands if they could not pay?
Rora found a massive pile of petitions for citizenship—those who currently lived outside Pavan but wished to make it their home. There were too many people for too little space and too few jobs. What had her mother said to her only days ago? I wish that we did not have to make such hard choices.
The royal seamstress Mistress Carrovain and her assistants, including Nova, were being worked furiously to finish alterations to her wedding gown. And when the seamstress accidentally pricked Rora with a needle, she noticed the way the older woman’s face went taut with fear and her hands trembled. Even the queen’s longtime seamstress appeared to live as if on a blade’s edge. As if banishment waited for her over a meaningless drop of blood.
Queen Aphra had always been stern—she had to be as a woman in he
r position—but Rora had never seen her be cruel. But she had been kept in the dark about so much, perhaps Rora did not know her mother as she thought.
Aurora had seen enough. She donned her disguise again. On a whim, she collected her brother’s twister ring from the Stormheart box that remained in her rooms and threaded it on a long necklace that she wore hidden beneath her cloak. And then, using the storm shelter exit, she left.
The dark night pulsed with silence, and Rora heard echoes that were not there as she navigated her way down the streets toward the Eye. She was afraid she had forgotten the way, but a familiar swinging lantern affirmed her path. Her blood rushed fast beneath her skin as she squeezed through the hidden entrance and down the long tunnel that separated the dark street from the market on the other side. This time Rora felt no apprehension. No fear. Only wonder and want.
Quietly she drifted along the path between stalls, taking it all in, enjoying the sound of people haggling over price and stall owners’ sales pitches to wandering buyers. And then she saw whom she was looking for.
“Duke?”
The old man’s hair was long and loose tonight, and some of it fell over his wrinkled forehead when he spun to face her. She had gone over and over her memories of the Eye throughout the day, and finally she’d realized why she found Duke so familiar the night before. When she’d been talking to Locke, she’d seen Cassius at a vendor behind him. Through the commotion that followed and her fainting ordeal, she hadn’t immediately remembered that the vendor Cassius had been speaking to was a thin old man with long, braided hair. Seeing the hunter again now, she was certain it was him.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You came back after all. Locke is around here somewhere.”
Rora stepped up to the table he was tinkering over, refusing to let herself get distracted by all the interesting baubles and artifacts before her.
“Actually, I wanted to speak with you.”
His eyebrows lifted, stark lines of white on a weathered, tanned face. “And what can I do for you, Roar?”