“She didn’t break the mirrors,” Lady Axlya said. Her voice was a mere whisper, and yet it whipped through the chamber with the force of a blizzard. “She melted them.” She turned to look at me now, and the expression in her eyes was almost… disturbed. “Do you have any idea the enormity of what you just did, child?”
Confusion and embarrassment crept up my spine, and I fought against the urge to shiver against the unwelcome tingles. “Umm, I was rude and disrespectful to my elders?” I ventured.
Ilsa rolled her eyes. “That’s true, but it isn’t just that. Those mirrors are ancient magic, crafted by powerful water fae over four thousand years ago. Not once have they suffered so much as a hairline crack, even through all the wars and sieges this castle has undergone. Not until you came along.”
The gravity of her statement sent a shiver skating across my skin, and I stared down at my palms as if I were seeing them for the first time. I knew my fire magic was unusual, even by fae standards—unlike Einar’s fire, it could kill shadow creatures and burn away shadow taint. But being able to destroy magic mirrors crafted by ancient fae, even temporarily? That seemed like a step beyond.
I met Einar’s eyes to see that he was just as taken aback by this announcement as I was. I had a feeling he was wondering the same thing I was—if my fire magic could do this, what else was it capable of?
“I have already ordered the clan heads to travel to Usciete post-haste,” Axlya said after a very pregnant pause. “As much as I would like to name you as our candidate for the throne, the clan leaders all must vote on the matter first. They will do so once you’ve completed your coming-of-age ritual and have come into your full power.”
My heart leapt at Axlya’s words, all of my troubled thoughts and questions evaporating. “Does that mean you’re granting me permission to undergo the ritual?” I asked.
“Yes.” Lady Axlya smiled for the first time, and hope burgeoned in my chest. But that hope deflated like a punctured balloon as the next words fell from her lips, heavy as stones. “One condition. You must marry Prentis.”
19
Leap
Leap was almost grateful when the guards came to collect him for his audience with Lord Oren the next morning. He’d barely slept a wink, too consumed between his dread of the meeting to come and his thoughts about Quye.
He was, however, still mildly annoyed that Quye had come to Mavlyn instead of him. But he suspected the connection Mavlyn claimed she felt with Quye was more than mere friendship. He knew his cousin’s romantic proclivities leaned toward female, just as he knew Quye’s heart was as fickle as the very winds she relied upon for her visions. That was one of the reasons she snuck out of the air fae temple so often; she couldn’t very well find romance amongst a gaggle of monks who had eschewed all mortal vices in their efforts to become one with the Divine Winds.
But none of that was Leap's problem. His only concern was getting out of this winds-forsaken place and finding his cousin.
Leap let these thought consume him as he trudged through the palace, surrounded by a bevy of guards on all sides, wrists still bound in iron. He didn’t want to look at the tapestries hanging on the walls, the statues and portraits of various important air fae royals and heroes. He didn’t want the terrible reminders of his time here that they would trigger.
But the closer they got to his uncle’s study, the harder it was to ignore the memories. Leap’s back and legs throbbed with the phantom pains from old beatings, and he gritted his teeth. He refused to let the other memories, memories that had long since ceased to torment him, crawl back to haunt him.
By the time they reached Uncle Oren’s study, a sheen of cold sweat covered Leap's face, and his shirt was soaked through. He straightened his back as one of the guards knocked on the door, clenched his clammy hands to stop their trembling.
He would not show fear. No matter what he found on the other side of the door.
“Enter.”
The door swung open, and the guards ushered Leap forward. He nearly collapsed in relief when he saw Uncle Oren was alone behind his desk save for his secretary, a diminutive fae perched inconspicuously on a chair in the corner. Leap peered around the room, checking the shadows and crevices just to be sure, but there was no sign of his tormentor.
He could be thankful for that small blessing, at least.
“Leap.” His uncle’s commanding voice boomed like a thunderclap, and he jerked to attention, his body reverting to years of training even as his mind wanted to rebel against it. A bead of sweat rolled down his spine as his uncle’s thin lip curled, his yellow eyes flat with disappointment. “Even dragged back in chains, with an army of guards standing just over your shoulder, you refuse to show me proper respect.”
Leap swallowed, unspoken retorts sliding down his throat like broken glass. “Why, Uncle Oren. How lovely to see you again,” he said instead, sketching a courtly bow. He even managed to do it with a straight face.
Uncle Oren snorted. “Don’t patronize me, boy.” He flicked a lock of white hair over his broad shoulder as he leaned forward, his raptor eyes raking over Leap. “Seems like your years of running around Wynth as a street urchin haven’t stunted your appetite, at least. You’re at least two feet taller than when I last saw you.”
Leap crossed his arms over his chest. “I was a thief, not a street urchin, and I was damn good at it.” He smirked as a tic started in Oren’s temple, but the expression faded from his face as his uncle’s words set in. “You knew where I’ve been this whole time. Haven’t you?”
“Of course I have.” Uncle Oren gave Leap an impatient look. “You may be a brat, but you are still my sister’s son. If I couldn’t keep you in the castle, I at least had to make sure you were safe. I assigned a spy to keep tabs on you, and he paid off the authorities to keep you from getting into any real trouble.”
Leap felt as though he’d been sucker-punched in the gut. “You’re lying,” he said through clenched teeth.” He had to be.
Uncle Oren laughed, his white teeth flashing in the morning sunlight filtering in through the window on his left. “I assure you, I am telling the truth,” he said, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “I know about every single one of your escapades, including that ridiculous heist you tried to pull on that silk merchant. That was especially foolish, you know.”
A buzzing sound filled Leap’s ears, an impotent rage building in his chest as he stared at his uncle. Electricity began humming along his fingertips, and he was so tempted to let the storm build up, to leap across the desk and strangle his uncle with lightning-clad fingers…
“You’re a bastard,” he said, his voice raw.
The mirth on Uncle Oren’s face vanished, replaced by an ugly look that filled Leap with dread. “Watch what you say to me, boy,” he growled in a voice like thunder. “You may be kin, but I am still your lord and master. If you think your life was miserable before you left, it will be nothing compared to the hell I will create for you if you continue to defy me.”