Cyrene grabbed at the door handle and pulled with all her might. She rattled it, using her weight to try to wrench it open, but it was no good. She couldn’t open the door. Alise and Robard had locked her inside a dark room in the middle of who-knows-where in the palace.

“Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She screamed and screamed for someone to find her until her entire body ached, and her voice was hoarse. If she kept this up, she would lose her voice, and then no one would ever find her.

This couldn’t be happening. She had been so tuned in to what was happening to Avoca that she wasn’t even paying attention to Robard.

Creator! I am such an idiot.

She hadn’t felt comfortable with Robard, yet she had allowed him to lead her. Of course, Alise was in league with him all along. She had thought that Alise was angry and bitter, but she had thought that it was over. Cyrene should have known that Alise was plotting while she was silent. She didn’t even know why Alise hated her so much!

Is it simply because I am an Affiliate? Or is it something more…something to do with Dean? It couldn’t just be that she was overprotective. There was protective, and then there was locking your brother’s girlfriend in a dark room, away from the rest of the palace.

Cyrene’s frustration built. She could not stop here and let herself waste away in this stupid room until someone stumbled upon her. Alise didn’t know whom she was messing with, and Cyrene had every intention of proving it to her.

Her magic tingled under her skin. Fear pricked at her. Without Dean, there was no way she was going to be able to control this. Her whole body quaked as she opened herself up to the infinite power. It was too much. She knew already that she couldn’t do anything in small doses. The energy swelled in her. With this much, she could destroy this whole room. With much more…the whole palace could come crumbling down on top of her head. She wasn’t focused on an enemy, as she had been in the past.

She steeled herself and bit back a sob. She was going to hurt someone. But she didn’t know if she would ever find a teacher to tell her how to control her magic. She would just have to figure it out on her own. If she didn’t use her magic now, she would never get out of here.

Cyrene took a few steadying breaths, trying to remember Avoca’s meditation practices in the woods. But she couldn’t sense anything around her. Just stone and more stone. Nothing to grasp on to. Nothing to tether her to the world, except the pulse of her magic within her and the bond she shared with Avoca.

Reaching for the bond, she stretched her hands out toward the door. Through the pain of the energy filling her up to the brim, she released her hold on everything but the bond.

The wall in front of her exploded with such force that Cyrene was knocked off her feet and whooshed back against the far wall. Her head cracked against the sandstone wall, and she slumped on the ground. Dust was everywhere, and she ached all over.

She held strong and fast to the bond with Avoca as dizziness crashed over her, and she felt herself slipping toward unconsciousness.

Her fingers went to her head. A huge knot was already forming where she had crashed against the wall. No wonder she was almost losing consciousness.

Avoca.

She called to Avoca through their bond but had no response. She had no idea if it was even possible for Avoca to hear her. Still, Cyrene tugged on the bond and hoped Avoca would hear her.

Cyrene pushed up onto her feet and stared down at her ice-blue dress in dismay. It was covered in dust and torn at the bottom. Nothing she could do about it now.

Cyrene lurched out of the room and stared at her handiwork. A giant crater was carved through the wall of the room and barreled through other rooms as far as Cyrene could see. She shuddered at the full weight of her power and continued down the hall. She put her hand on the wall for support, trying not to lose consciousness.

Cyrene turned the corner and saw two women striding toward her. “Help me!” she called to them in a hoarse whisper.

They looked at each other and then curiously back at Cyrene. One of them nodded to the other.

“Yes, I see her,” the other woman said.

“Please help,” Cyrene said again.

“Serafina, what are you doing, roaming the castle grounds?” the woman asked. She was about medium height with brown skin and long spiral, curly black hair.

Cyrene startled. “What?”

She turned to the woman standing next to her, who looked very similar to the other woman. A little bit taller perhaps but with the same dark skin and black hair in slightly looser waves with so much body and volume that it almost looked out of control.

“What have we told you a hundred times over? You can’t just wander around the grounds at night. You’re more closely connected to the elements on holidays, and it’s even worse for someone like you.”

Cyrene stumbled forward. “What…what did you call me?”

“Serafina, you need to be careful,” the first woman said with a shake of her head. “You can’t use yourself up. We heard the commotion. We know you’re struggling again.”

“I’m not Serafina,” Cyrene said, latching on to the wall.

The women looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“You mean…this isn’t a dream?” the second woman asked. “I could have sworn we were sleeping again.”

“Sera only shows up in dreams. That was a long time ago.”

“Did you…know Serafina?” Cyrene asked carefully. A splitting headache was ripping through her, but she felt more alert with the strangeness that was happening before her. “Domina Serafina?”

“Well, she was just a Doma when we knew her,” the first woman continued. “She didn’t become Domina and rule the council until a few years later,” she rambled.

The second woman jabbed her in the side.

“Oh!” the first woman squeaked.

“What is going on?” Cyrene asked.

Both women closely studied her.

“You’re not a vision?”

Cyrene shook her head.

“Then, who are you?”

“My name is Cyrene Strohm. I’m an Affiliate from Byern. I came to Eleysia with Prince Dean.”

Both women recoiled.

“That can’t be.”

“An Affiliate?”

“No, there hasn’t been one in years.”

“Certainly not one like her.”

“Um,” Cyrene said, “excuse me?”

“Don’t mind my sister. She’s always been a little hotheaded,” the first woman said.

“And you’re as cold as ice,” she spat back.

“Don’t even start with me, or I’ll make you wish your flames could withstand an ice storm.”

“Excuse me!” Cyrene said louder, halting their fast speech. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone by the names of Matilde and Vera, would you?” Her heart leaped with hope that, perhaps through all of this horrible mess, something good would come of it.

“Where did you learn those names, child?”

“Basille Selby sent me here to find two women named Matilde and Vera. You’re them, aren’t you?”

“Basille Selby,” they said in unison.

“Yes. He gave me a book,” Cyrene said. She felt her body weakening and slumped forward. “I’m sorry. I…everything hurts.”

The second woman walked forward. She reached her hand out and touched Cyrene’s face. She took a deep breath, her eyes widening. “How much did you use?” She turned back to the other woman. “You’re going to need to do this.”

Her sister stepped forward until she was eye level with Cyrene. She cupped Cyrene’s face in her hands and closed her eyes. After a pregnant pause, Cyrene felt ice ripping through her body. Her teeth chattered, and she arced away from the woman’s touch, but she held on tightly.

Then, suddenly, it was over, and Cyrene was left with a lingering chill in her bones. But everything else was gone. She was completely healed. Her headache was gone. Every ache and pain in her body was removed. Her body naturally healed quickly, but this was more.

This was magic.

“I am Vera,” the woman whispered. “And this is my sister, Matilde. Though we do not go by those names at court in this generation. You can call me Mari, and Mati goes by Kathrine.”

Cyrene nearly sobbed. “I have been looking for you everywhere.”

“I assure you, Cyrene, we have been looking for you for much longer.”