Novaya glanced at the sun through the window. It was well past sunrise, and Aurora had not returned. She had known it was a mistake—all of it. She should not have let the princess go. And before that, she should have refused the prince and his coins. But the two gold coins he gave was more than she made in a week, and as someone who lived life ready to flee at a moment’s notice, having gold saved was imperative.
Wracked with guilt and worry, Nova had stayed hidden in an alcove of the servants’ wing all night, waiting for Aurora to return. Her eyelids were heavy, and her heart hadn’t stopped racing since the sun came up.
The prince had returned an hour past midnight, his full coin purse clinking with each heavy step. Nova had watched the door to the shelters at the end of the hall, waiting for Rora to follow once the prince disappeared from sight. But she never came. Something terrible must have happened.
Nova’s anxiety was hard to control on the best days. She would lie awake at night, consumed by thoughts of all the things that could go wrong the next day—little things like sewing a stitch wrong and losing her chance to become a full-time seamstress rather than a servant or massive things like accidentally burning the palace to the ground. Her mind would begin to unfurl elaborate disastrous scenarios in which one small mistake led to a dozen more, and her carefully constructed world would crumble around her. And when her emotions raged out of control, something inside her, something even harder to leash, raged too.
Night had gone, and the halls filled with the bustle of servants heading to their posts for the morning. Nova should go and admit her crime to the queen, so that soldiers could be sent out to search for Aurora. Already, she could be lying somewhere dead or dying, and it was all Nova’s fault.
She would almost certainly face banishment for her admission, and far worse if something had truly happened to the kingdom’s heir. A tingle of heat stroked up her spine, and Nova immediately doused her emotions, locking them away behind the imagined door she’d fashioned as a child. Most days, that door was all that stood between her and arrest, so she guessed in that respect, today was no different from any other day.
She had spent hours upon hours agonizing over the control of her magic, knowing one slip and the military would make sure she disappeared, and now she’d been felled by something akin to gossip. She did not know whether disappearing would mean death or imprisonment; it was not as if she could ask questions about the others who had disappeared without raising suspicions about herself.
She sighed, knowing that she could wait no longer. Perhaps she would only face banishment. The thought was still terrifying but easier to accept than death. She had no influence over storms, but her … gift gave her a better chance to survive the wilds than most. As she turned to go, a commotion down the hall drew her attention. Amid a group of women leaving their rooms was someone tall, completely covered by a large brown cloak.
Thank the skies. The women surrounding the princess had begun to whisper; a few brave ones voiced their suspicions louder. Nova saw a plump older woman, who worked as a laundress, square her shoulders and head Aurora’s way.
Bolting down the hall, Nova called out, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Late on the first day. Mistress Carrovain is furious.”
The crowd of women parted for Nova, and no one interfered when she began to lead Aurora away. Nova might have been just a servant, but her mother was one of the queen’s favored cooks. And her father, though too ill to work now, had been Prince Alaric’s valet. Her own newly acquired position as an assistant to the royal seamstress came with a touch of respect too.
Aurora did not fight her pull. This too had always been easier with Aurora. Nova avoided touch as much as possible, afraid that she would slip and hurt someone again. But she would never hurt Rora. She trusted herself that much at least.
The two did not speak until they were in the royal wing. The princess slowed to a stop, slipping back the hood of her cloak. She pulled at the scarf around her head, freeing that famous skyfire-bright hair, and said, “Skies, Nova. You saved me.”
Anger, swift and potent, kicked wide the door she tried to keep closed. And Nova’s fisted palms grew painfully hot. She hissed, “The prince returned hours ago. Where have you been? I was about to hand myself over to the authorities for getting the Stormling heir killed.”
Aurora’s eyes widened, and Nova clenched her teeth, knowing her outburst was not only inappropriate but out of character. Nova had always been the calm and cautious one when they’d been friends as children, while Rora had been as wild as a storm in a little girl’s dress. Nova had been all too aware of the consequences of revealing herself. She might have been born with magic same as Aurora, but long ago, her kind of magic had been deemed dirty, evil even. After all, it was people like her that caused the Time of Tempests.
“I did not mean to stay out so long. I lost the prince last night,” Aurora answered. “But I met someone who hunts storms. A whole crew of them in fact. That place was … spectacular.”
Nova knew the crown’s stance on the forbidden magics—they pretended they no longer existed, that the first tempests had wiped out all who wielded elemental magic in the first tribes, and only the Stormling ancestors had been blessed by the goddess to carry magic now. When proof arose to the contrary, it disappeared. They applied the same logic and solutions to the mercenary crews who harvested raw storm magic in the wildlands. But everyone knew other magics existed, even if they pretended otherwise. Nova had assumed that type of information would have been discussed between the queen and her daughter.
“I don’t understand why you were so afraid,” Rora said. “I’m going back. Tonight. There’s so much more I want to know.”
Nova swallowed the aggravated curse that threatened at the tip of her tongue. As Aurora pushed opened the door to her rooms, Nova followed and insisted, “You can’t! It’s too dangerous.”
The princess eyed Nova over her shoulder, and Nova knew an inquisition was coming. Even as a child, Princess Aurora had never asked a question without five more following the first.
“What is too dangerous?”
The question did not come from Aurora; the voice was decidedly deeper. On the far side of the room, lounging casually on a settee, was the Prince of Locke. His suspicious gaze roamed over the princess first and then wandered to Nova, his eyes narrowing. Rora, impetuous as always, did not even attempt a diplomatic response. She squared her shoulders, as Nova had seen her do when she threw knives with the soldiers, and asked, “What are you doing in my rooms?”
Prince Cassius reminded Nova of the poisonous snakes that would lie in wait in her desert homeland—deceptively calm but ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Even his movements were slow and deliberate, as if trying not to alert prey to his presence.
“I have news.” He let those words settle for a moment, and Aurora stiffened. “I asked your mother’s permission to be the one to give it to you. But when I knocked on your door, no one answered.”
“So you decided to enter my rooms without permission?”
The prince didn’t appear at all fazed by the venom clinging to Aurora’s words. In fact, he grinned. “One of your maids let me in when she came to start a fire. I assure you, I intended no harm.”
“Good intentions do not negate harm.”
His smile faded then, and Nova’s mind filled in the hiss of a poisonous snake about to attack.
He asked, “What’s wrong? Where were you? And what is dangerous?” The last question was said in a demanding growl. The words weren’t even directed at Nova, but even so nerves jumped in her belly and a flare of blazing heat followed before she tamped it down. It had been a difficult morning, and already her skin was dotted with perspiration from the flashes of fire that she’d been unable to rein in.
Aurora turned away from the prince, brows flat with agitation. “Nova, can you help me?”
The last place Nova wanted to be was between two angry royals, both of whom knew enough to turn her over to the authorities. But she stepped farther into the room and closed the door behind her anyway.
“Wait outside,” Aurora told Cassius. “We can talk after I change.” Her tone was curt and cold, and Nova kept her eyes fixed on the ground as the prince grudgingly went out into the hallway. When the door was closed, Aurora stomped into her bedroom, and Nova followed.
“I’m so sorry,” Nova whispered. “I had no idea he was here, or I would have warned you.”
Aurora pinched the bridge of her nose and stayed standing that way for several long moments, her eyes shut tight. Then all at once, she jumped into action. She dragged the brown cloak up and over her head, followed by her nightgown. Nova rushed to help her change into a blue linen dress. It was plain by royal standards, but Aurora had never been the type to care about fashion, and she was beautiful enough for it not to matter.
“Tell me you won’t go back there,” Nova whispered as she fastened a final hook at the back of Rora’s neck.
Aurora hesitated. “I can’t do that.” She spun to Nova and waited expectantly. “Tell me what you know.”
Nova pressed her lips together. She’d come this far. There was little harm in telling her more. She sighed and whispered, “The people who go there? They’re either desperate or…”
“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 into 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.”