As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Locke could have sworn he felt an updraft—the first sign that bad weather could occur—and he knew that this time he had pushed too far.
Roar marched toward him, spearing a finger into his chest, and said, “I can read and write. I can speak Taraanese, Finlaghi, and Odilarian. I can read maps. I know enough about grassland vegetation and wildlife to survive without a market to buy food and drink. I’m good with knives and a bow. I learn quickly, and I’m not afraid of hard work. And I’ve spent my entire life reading as much about storms as I could get my hands on.” For a moment, her voice cracked under the weight of her anger, but she took a huffing breath and continued: “I’m good with numbers. It’s been a while, but I think I can probably still draw the constellations from memory, which should make me decent at navigation. I can—”
“Enough.” Locke’s voice came out in a deep rasp. He captured her long, delicate finger in his fist before she could continue poking him. He felt short of breath at the sight of her—livid and lovely. “Enough.”
The old Locke might have kept arguing, and Roar would have met him toe-to-toe. But if becoming a storm hunter had taught him anything, it was that fighting head-on wasn’t always the way to win. Sometimes strategy was required. He met Duke’s eyes over her shoulder, and if he had thought Roar looked smug before, she had nothing on his mentor. The man raised his eyebrows in a challenge and asked, “You?”
He hated the idea of bringing someone into this dangerous life, but if it was going to happen regardless, he sure as hell wouldn’t hand her safety over to anyone else, not even Ransom. And at the very least, it would give him the opportunity to change her mind. He gritted his teeth and nodded his acceptance.
“Good.” Duke smiled. “Roar, Locke will follow you home and help you get everything you’ll need for the journey.”
Roar had been about to celebrate her victory, but she stopped short. “I don’t need his help.”
He smirked in response. “Then you’re going to be sorely disappointed, princess. Because I’m in charge of your training.”
Her eyes widened. “But … why? You didn’t even want me to come.” She asked Duke, “Can’t I learn from you?”
“It’s me or nothing,” Locke cut in. “Duke is just the mastermind these days. So if he teaches you, you’ll do nothing but pore over maps and measurements.”
She twisted her fingers together, clenching and unclenching them. After a moment, she sighed. “Fine. But I don’t need your help to get my things.”
“Well, you’re getting it anyway.” He stalked toward her and grabbed her elbow. She dug her heels in, and tried to break free.
“I can go without you. I’m not a child in need of a nursemaid.”
“What a coincidence. I’m no nursemaid.”
He gave another tug, and this one got her feet moving. She stopped fighting and said, “Fine. Let go of me.”
He released her as they approached one of the exits that led out of the market. “Don’t bother trying to run. I’ll catch you.”
She gave him a tight smile, her blue eyes blazing. “Why would I do a thing like that?”
She ducked into the dark passageway between the buildings that hid the market, and he followed her into the cramped space.
“Because you can’t help yourself. You have to fight everything.”
He couldn’t see more than her silhouette, but he heard her clearly as she spit back, “Or maybe I just have to fight men who try to bully me into doing as they say.”
He sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth.
“And another thing—” She stepped out of the darkness, and the rest of her words were muffled. He turned sideways and worked to squeeze himself through the narrow opening of the passageway.
He knew something was wrong the moment he emerged. He spun, pulling one of the blades from his hip, but ground to a halt when he saw Roar. She was panting with exertion, and her glare was a dare to say something. Sprawled at her feet was a man groaning in pain. Blood streamed down his face from a broken nose, but his hands were too busy cupping his groin to stem the flow.
“What?” Roar barked. “He tried to rob me.”
Locke lifted his hands, holding back a smile. “You’ll get no complaints from me.” He narrowed his eyes toward the man. He was about as tall as Roar but near double her weight. An impressive takedown. Though in Locke’s opinion, the thief wasn’t in nearly enough pain. “Want to kick him again before I turn him over to the market’s enforcers?” he asked.
Roar’s lips pressed into a line, the edges trembling upward like she fought a laugh. “No. The first kick was hard enough.”
He lugged the man up from the ground, jerking him up to his tiptoes. The thief wailed at the movement, but one good shake shut him up. “She might be forgiving,” he growled, “but the enforcers won’t be. They don’t take kindly to thieves preying on their clientele.”
He dragged the man toward the tunnel, but stopped first to meet Roar’s gaze. “I’ll be right back.” She smiled innocently in response, and he knew. “You’re not going to wait for me, are you?” Her smile grew. “Fine. Clearly, you can take care of yourself. Meet us at dawn on the eastern road just outside the city gates. Don’t be late or I’ll leave you.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised. “Tell Duke I said thank you.”
The thief started groaning again, and Locke shoved him into the passageway. “I don’t get a thank-you?”
“Maybe you’ll get it when I’m no longer angry that you called me a liability.”
Do not fear the thunder, nor the fire in the skies.
Rest little darling, and close your tired eyes,
For up above us now in that great, golden dome
A Stormling stands against it all to protect our sacred home.
—Pavanian lullaby
9
Novaya was wide-awake in her bed when a low tap sounded on her door. She was lying on top of the covers, still in her day clothes. She eased the door open enough to peek outside, and when she saw a familiar cloak, she took hold of Aurora’s wrist and tugged her inside.
“You went out again?” Nova shook her head, glancing at the pitch-black window behind her bed. “You’re getting married in a few hours!”
Rora looked around the room, eyes falling on the still made bed. “Why weren’t you sleeping?”
“Couldn’t.” It had been a long day, and even though Nova was exhausted, her mind would not quiet. Mistress Carrovain had driven Nova and her two other assistants at a punishing pace, on top of the few duties she still had as a maid. Nova had been irritable all day after her previous night without sleep, and when one of the other assistants snidely insulted her work, she’d only narrowly avoided setting the dress in her hands on fire.
“Nova…” Rora began, her tone uncertain. “I came to ask something of you, a good deal more than what one might consider a favor from one friend to another. If you must say no, I will understand. But I promise, it will be the last thing I ask of you.”
Nova sighed. “What do you need? I have the clothes you wanted.”
“That is … wonderful. Thank you,” Rora said. “But this is considerably bigger than that.”
Nova gestured for Rora to take a seat on her roommate’s narrow bed. “Should I worry that the owner of this bed will be returning soon?” Rora asked as she sat.
“Lenia is seeing one of the stable hands. She’s already been here to grab clothes for tomorrow and snuck off to his room.” Nova knelt by her bed and reached beneath it for the bag she’d hidden earlier in the day. “Speaking of stable hands, here.” Out of the bag she lifted a pile of plain clothing. Trousers from Lenia’s stable hand. Two linen tunics. An old skirt from Nova’s mother with the hem let out. Even a worn pair of boots that appeared only slightly too large. She slid the articles of clothing back in the bag and handed it to Rora.
The princess reached into her pocket, fiddling with something inside it. She said
, “I have something for you also.” She lifted her hand and opened her palm to reveal a smooth, pearlescent stone. Nova’s breath caught in her throat. A Stormheart. With a sharp shake of her head, she said, “No. I cannot accept this.”
“You can. It’s not one of the royal ones. And you’ve been a tremendous help to me. I’m told they fetch quite a price at the Eye.”
“That’s not why I helped you … for money.”
“I know. And I want you to have it for far more reasons than just your help of late. Keep it. Sell it. I don’t care, but please take it.”
“I cannot. It’s too much. What if you need it?”
Aurora gave a watery laugh. “I won’t.”
Now that Nova looked, the princess was indeed blinking away tears. With the Stormheart clutched tightly in her hand, Rora took a deep breath and whispered, “I don’t have any magic.”
Nova paused. A few nights of little to no sleep had made her delirious. “What do you mean?”
Rora’s voice was firmer this time, though still quiet. “Storm magic. I have none. When I touch the Stormhearts”—she lifted the skyfire stone she held—“I feel nothing at all.”
“But—but I heard—”
“Rumors. Lies. I pulled away from you, from everyone, when we found out. Mother was afraid that I would lose the crown. Everything we’ve done the last few years has been to protect that secret.”
Nova slumped back on her bed, her thoughts racing, plucking out old memories and seeing them in a new light. Then it dawned on her. “The wedding. That’s why you’re marrying another Stormling.”
Rora nodded. “We held off as long as we could, but now the Rage season…” She trailed off because she did not need to explain the rest.
“And now with the wedding tomorrow—” Nova winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
“I’m not marrying him. I leave at dawn.”
With awe and horror, Nova listened as the Princess of Pavan told her about Cassius’s betrayal and cruel manipulation of her feelings and laid out her plans to run away with a group of storm hunters.
Heat simmered beneath Nova’s skin. Rora couldn’t be serious. She would not leave and risk her life this way. Nova understood Rora’s desperation for control. Nova lived it every day. But there had to be another way besides fleeing. Nova had done that too, but not by choice.
“What happens when the Lockes find out you’ve broken a royal contract?” Nova asked. “The treaty your mother has been fighting so hard for—it will end.”
Rora braced her hands on her knees, took a slow breath, and lifted her eyes to Nova’s. “Which is why I have to make it look like I did not willingly break the marriage contract.”
“Rora,” Nova warned. “Whatever you’re thinking—”
“Is possibly brilliant. Or terrible. But hopefully mostly brilliant.”
Rora gave a shaky smile, and Nova couldn’t help but return it. She remembered all the grand, outrageous ideas they’d had as children. Nova had always said yes then, and though it led to a fair amount of trouble, she could not remember another time when she had been so happy. When her gift or curse or whatever it was had been so easy to control.
Rora laid out her plan and the part that Nova would have to play. It was bold, as the princess always tended to be.
“I know what I’m asking of you,” Rora said. “If you cannot help, I will understand.” Nova wanted to say yes, to be so fearless, but she had been ruled by her anxiety for so long. Rora pushed the skyfire Stormheart into Nova’s palm, clasping both her hands around Nova’s fist. “Either way, please take this. It is my thank-you for your help, my apology for all the years I kept us apart, and my promise that things are going to be different when I return.”
Nova was the one fighting tears now. They gathered in her throat, and made it hard to speak. She almost told Rora then about her own secret. She wanted to so badly, but years of conditioning bound the words on her tongue. Instead, she took the Stormheart and said, “What happens when the soldiers begin scouring the countryside searching for you? How will you stay safe then?”
Rora reached a hand up to touch the scarf covering her hair.
“Maybe I need another favor.”
* * *
When the sky was still a deep purple, Rora found her horse, Honey, in the stable and presented her with an apple as a preemptive apology for everything that was about to change. The brown horse nuzzled into Rora’s hand, and then sniffed at the scarf wrapped around her head. She could probably smell the paste Nova had mixed to dye Rora’s hair a dark brown.
“Ssh, girl. We’re going on a little adventure. You like adventure, don’t you?”
Honey nipped at Rora’s fingers in a gesture she liked to think was a yes. She’d been too busy to ride this week, and she missed it. When Rora’s fingers were tangled in Honey’s coarse white mane, her body tucked low against the horse’s back, nothing could catch her. Not a castle guard, not her mother, not a storm in the sky, or the tempest of thoughts in her head. Now they would be escaping for far more than a few hours of peace.
She tacked up the horse with the oldest saddle and bridle she could find and set off for the palace gate. There she found one of the usual guards.
“Elmont, it’s me,” Rora said when she drew near.
She should have been exhausted from lack of sleep, but the quick beat of her heart was pumping adrenaline through her body. He didn’t release the hilt of the sword at his hip as he peered through the darkness.
“Princess?” She cringed at the title and the reminder it brought of everything she was about to leave behind. “Where are you going?”
“Just a ride to calm my nerves.”
Rora didn’t let her smile falter as she moved closer, within the glow of the lantern by his post. She couldn’t very well go prancing about with her newly changed hair. Not without everyone discovering the truth of what was about to happen. He looked at the scarf she wore, but did not comment.
He gave her a cheery smile. “Nervous? I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ve not seen anything yet that you can’t do. A wedding should be a piece of cake.”
His face had taken on its usual red hue at her arrival. She felt a sting of guilt over the share of the blame he would take for letting her out on this particular morning.
“Elmont, you always start my days off well.”
The crimson of his cheeks deepened, and he stood a little taller. “I am proud to be of service, Your Highness.”
Everything had a sense of finality to it this morning. Rora’s eyes lingered over every detail as Elmont opened the palace gates with his skyfire affinity. She wasn’t sure when she would return to Pavan, but she knew everything would be different when she did. She would be different. And in many ways, she already was.
Tears teased at the corners of Rora’s vision as she made her way through the quiet, sleepy city, and then in too short a time, she was past the outer walls. It was early enough that she didn’t yet see the hunters anywhere in the vicinity, so she took off in her usual direction, pushing Honey into a gallop. It didn’t take long to put her out of sight of the guards atop the city walls. She kept going, enjoying one last ride through the familiar wheat fields that would soon glisten gold in the sunlight. On any other morning ride, she and Honey might have meandered through the fields; Rora would have lain on her back, letting the stalks sway in the breeze around her. But this was not a normal morning.
Rora soon doubled back toward Pavan and stopped at an open field where wildflowers grew in colorful patches. She and Nova had agreed that this spot was the best setting for a fake kidnapping. She slid off Honey’s back and quickly changed out of her dress and into a pair of trousers and tunic. She tore a few strips off the hem of the dress before tucking it away into a saddlebag. Then she retrieved one of her knives and took a deep breath.
She hadn’t wanted to worry anyone more than necessary, but it was imperative that Nova’s story was believed. Otherwise Rora would put her friend a
nd Queen Aphra in a great deal of trouble. So with a strange sense of calm, she sliced the knife along her palm, sprinkling some blood on the torn fabric and the road. She rode along the southern road, letting blood drip as she went. Every so often, she dropped a bloodied piece of cloth, as if she were trying to leave clues about the direction her kidnappers were taking her. If all went according to plan, she would be on her way east with the hunters by the time they started searching for her. Stormling kidnappings were not uncommon, and all the rumors of Rora’s incredible skill made her a more valuable target.
Finally, she bandaged her hand and doubled back the way she came. When she could see the palace dome in the gradually lightening sky, she unwound the scarf from her head. Her new hair was dark and shorter, cut to her shoulders. She kept reaching back for the rest, only to come up empty. Nova would leave the village for the wildflower field at dawn, and an hour later she would run back to the palace with the tale they had devised. It was too late to turn back, even if Rora wanted to.
Her stomach turned with nerves, but she knew she had prepared as best as she could. She’d filled her packs with everything she thought might prove useful: A bow and arrows to go with her cherished knives, books on languages and herbs and wildlife, coin enough to buy whatever she might need, her favorite book for comfort, and her brother’s twister ring. It was a selfish addition, a reminder of home and of the grief she would leave behind if she did not manage to return.
Rora waited within a copse of trees until the sun breathed gold and pink across the heavens, then she pushed Honey into a trot toward a caravan on the eastern road she assumed belonged to the hunters. There were half a dozen horses, two of which were harnessed to a carriage unlike any she had ever seen. The front curved out like a globe and was made of glass. The back was boxy, and atop the glinting metal roof were unfamiliar contraptions that spun in the wind.