-9-
Days rolled into weeks. I still couldn’t find the stupid crystal Lord Gavyn had given me. In fact, I’d given up on ever finding it. I hope whoever had stolen it wouldn’t use it against him.
Between my morning and evening practices, Lady Nemea’s debutante lessons, and studying with Master Rahm, I had little time for anything else except nursing the guilt over the couple in the dungeons. They were never far from my mind.
I hated feeling guilty. Hated feeling like I should do something to set them free. Since I couldn’t think up a way to do it, I focused on studying my butt off and memorizing the names of every minion in the castle. I shamelessly interrupted their chores in my room, the kitchen, and the storage areas. I visited the kitchen so often that Bilal, the head cook, always had treats waiting for me. If I could, I would have eaten lunch with her and the others in the kitchen. They finally stopped pressing their hands to their chests. Instead, I got a nod and a smile, or a slight bow.
My dislike of the Guardians only grew as Master Kenta continued to regale me with Guardian stories between sword practices and sparring—Guardians chasing Coronis and her followers from Xenith’s cities and marooning them in the frostiest part of the land. I already knew about that, but not about the number of Hermonites who’d lost their children because of the harsh conditions. Then there were Guardians destroying businesses without provocation, putting hundreds out of jobs, slaughtering our people, and leaving children without parents, wives without husbands, and vice versa. That they would kill their own for humans made no sense.
I didn’t lose it again like the first two days. I came close a few times, but the gentle brush on my psi energy often calmed me down even though I had no idea who was doing it. I knew I wasn’t the one doing it, and my father wasn’t either.
“How can I stop shooting off psi energy?” I asked him one evening.
“By controlling your emotions,” he’d said.
My father could be so doting one minute, and curt the next. I realized his moods had nothing to do with me and didn’t take it personally. Instead, I teased him or shared silly anecdotes until he smiled or laughed. He tested my knowledge of history whenever he could, which drove me crazy. The worst part was that I always had this weird feeling we’d done this before—the endless Q&A, the disapproval when I complained.
Master Rahm, on the other hand, was easygoing, patient, and an amazing teacher. When I complained, he always listened.
“Stop,” I said several weeks later, imitating the commanding tone my father often used when he wanted to get everyone’s attention.
Surprisingly, Master Rahm responded and stared at me with wide eyes. Immediately, I felt bad. I wasn’t my father or my sister, and ordering an older person like my tutor just seemed wrong.
“Please,” I added in my normal voice. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what, Princess Lilith?”
“Sit in here every morning and afternoon studying the same things.”
“But your father said you’re not ready for the Academy.”
“Then let’s change venues,” I said and got up. “Study outdoors? Walk on the beach? Visit the Academy? At least focus on something else every other day?”
He pursed his lips. “History is your weakest subject, Princess.”
I sighed. “I know. I just need a break from the monotony of it.”
“Okay. We can use the gazebo and focus on languages for the next couple of days.”
“Thank you,” I said with relief. “You are the best.”
“Then we’ll go back to history,” he added.
“I take it back. You are a slave driver.”
He kept a straight face and waited.
“Fine. Can we do it in another language?”
“We’ll see. Come on. Gazebo it is.” We teleported outside and the two guards followed. I was learning to ignore them. As always, workers teleported in and out, pruning hedges and maintaining the gardens, but Green Eyes wasn’t among them. He tended to appear during my sessions with Master Kenta.
A servant brought fluffy cushions for the already-padded wooden gazebo benches, and another brought out a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.
“Okay, we’ll start with French,” Master Rahm said in French, picking up a book. “Let’s see how fluent you are.”
I chuckled. “I understood everything you just said,” I answered in fluent French.
His eyebrows shot up. “Nice.” He put the book down. “Describe the gardens.”
I did, standing on the gazebo bench to see the pond and the colorful birds floating in it.
“Very good. What other languages can you speak?”
I shrugged. “Pick one.”
“Okay, describe the gardens in Latin.” After forty languages, he said, “Your grasp of languages is impressive. From now on, we’ll study history in a different language every day. No eye rolls or groans. Your father insists you learn our history, Princess Lilith.”
“Why? I already know about Coronis, the Guardians, and the Great Battle.”
“To prepare you for your future, you must learn from your past,” Master Rahm said. “History is more important than metaphysical training or math.”
“Meta what?” I asked.
“Your abilities or powers over elements.”
“But I want to see what I can do.”
Master Rahm’s expression became reflective. “Next week.”
True to his word, Master Rahm helped me work on blocking people from my mind, hiding my energy, and reading thoughts without anyone knowing it. All I had to do was will it, just like Green Eyes had said. The ease with which I mastered these stealth moves said I must have known how to do them before. Another thing I learned from the Guardians.
Everything always came back to the Guardians.
“What was my life like with the Guardians?” I asked Master Kenta one morning.
We were by the gazebo, taking a break after an intense round of handto-hand combat. I’d fought asking him this particular question, preferring not to dwell in the past. But after walking the streets of Mount Hermon City, I’d wondered how and where I’d been raised.
Master Kenta chugged water, then wiped his lips and squinted. “The old man who took you in didn’t raise you among the Guardians. He knew your father was searching for you, so he chose to live among humans.”
Now, that was a surprise. “Humans?”
“He was married to one, a Gypsy. You stayed with his wife’s people. When you turned sixteen and your powers started to show, he took you back to the Guardians’ community.”
Was the old man the face I’d seen when my father had smiled? I tried to recapture that image, but it evaded me. “Who was he?”
Master Kenta shrugged. “A respected and revered Prime Psi, or Cardinal Psi as the Guardians called them. The others were wary of you and your powers because they came from your father. Even when they learned you were the wielder of the Nephilim’s most powerful weapon, their attitudes didn’t change. I remember you in tears when your fellow trainees learned you were an empath and didn’t want you near them. They thought you might read them. Another accused you of using air abilities to attack her during sparring when it was obvious you were a superior swordsman. A few times, you left the training room in tears.”
A lump formed in my throat. How could I forgive them? How could anyone on the island forgive them?
“They never trusted you enough to take you to Xenith, either. You didn’t know why, of course. You were not good enough because you are your father’s child.”
I wanted so badly to lead a raid against the Guardians and make them pay.
As though he knew what I was thinking, Master Kenta said, “It’s all in the past now, Lilith. You are home now. One day, you will rule over them, and then you can decide the best punishment for their treachery.”
His words stayed with me, and the idea of me as the future leader of my people started to sink in. I wasn’t sure how Solange would react to that, but I wasn’t going to worry about it. The whole leadership thing depended on my wielding the Kris Dagger, and it still wasn’t responding. My inability to link with it was beginning to eat at me. I tried several times a week.
“Okay, back to training,” Master Kenta said.
I drained my water and then I heard it, the clang of metal hitting metal. I searched for their source. “What’s that?”
“The knights training the guards.”
More metal hitting metal reached my ears. “Where’s it coming from?”
“The practice fields. They must have changed their hours.” He put his bottle of water down. “Let’s start sword—”
“Can we visit them?” I couldn’t explain the urgency zipping through me. All I knew was that I had to see them. “Just for a few minutes.”
Annoyance crossed Master Kenta’s face, but I didn’t care. I was tired of one-on-one sessions with him. “Please. If Father asks, we can tell him it was part of my lessons.”
Master Kenta shook his head.
“Or we can tell him I persuaded you.”
He shot me a disapproving look. “You are forbidden to use your powers on me.”
“I know, but we can say I was angry and it just happened.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh and stood. “Fine. Follow my telegate.”
I knew what a telegate was—the energy disturbance left behind after a teleport—but I’d never followed one. Still, I went with my instinct. Closer to the field, I noticed the energies of the guards. I counted forty of them. I appeared beside Master Kenta, Callum, and Ruby.
“I didn’t know you could slow down your teleport,” Master Kenta said.
How the heck did he think I surprised him whenever we sparred? My attention shifted to the fighters, an anticipation I couldn’t explain pulling at me. This was all too familiar. I must have watched the Guardians practice.
At first, no one noticed us. The instructors yelled instructions and insults at the trainees. “Feint left, man. Block and… You idiot! What in Tartarus was that?”
“Thrust. Move those sluggish feet. Your mother can hit better than that.”
“Incoming! Incinerate it. You call that an energy ball?” The instructor created an energy ball and hurled it. Screams followed.
I winced. These instructors were brutal. To my left, some trainees or guards were using wooden staffs. They were just as bad.
I cringed as I watched one man pummeled another again and again. The pairing was wrong. The man winning was a superior fighter, yet he didn’t give the weaker guy a chance to recover.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
Master Kenta glanced at me with surprise. “Why? I thought you wanted to observe the fight.”
“Yeah, a fair one. Not someone being beaten to a pulp. This is not sportsmanship. This is… I don’t even know what it is.”
Unfortunately, the trainees at the edge of the crowd noticed us and stopped whatever they were doing in mid-action, causing or receiving some serious injuries. I cringed. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. They bowed, some smiling, others frowning. I gave them a tiny wave.
“Would the princess like to give us the honor of watching our session?” a knight asked. Unlike the trainees, his black shirt had the red raven crest worn by Sir Malax. Some of the trainees had a yellow raven, while others wore plain shirts.
I glanced at Master Kenta, but he was talking to Ruby and Callum. He glanced at me. Your father needs me at the castle. Stay here.
He teleported. I smiled at the knight who’d asked me to stay. “I’ll watch, thank you.”
The trainees split into two groups, the ones with yellow crests on the right and the ones wearing plain T-shirts on the left. The instructor selected a fighter from each group and gave them wooden staffs.
Watching them, I visualized moves and countermoves. Their technique wasn’t bad, just brutal. Once again, the pairing was wrong. Instead of giving the less-experienced trainee a chance to recover, the superior fighter pushed his advantage, leaving nasty bruises on his opponent’s arms and face. The cut on his right cheek was deep and bled profusely. The instructor didn’t stop them. The smirk on the instructor’s face said he was enjoying the beatdown.
“Why isn’t he stopping the fight?” I asked.
“The other man is a minion,” Callum said calmly, but his hazel eyes flashed with anger. “The guards fight them during practice.”
More like use them as target practice, I thought. The man’s face was swelling fast. He had another nasty cut, this one on his left eyebrow. “Why can’t someone heal him?”
“Their healers don’t come to the field,” Callum said. “He’ll visit one after practice, then come back for the same beating tomorrow.”
“And usually they return before they are fully healed,” Ruby added.
How could Father let this happen? The defeated minion dropped to his knees. The superior fighter raised his staff again and arced it toward the poor guy. Thoroughly annoyed by the knight’s inability to mediate the fight, I lifted my hand and froze the stick. The bully tried to lift it but he couldn’t. Confusion flashed across his face.
“What’s happening?” someone asked.
“How did the minion stop it?” another added.
“He doesn’t have that kind of power.”
“But I do,” I said, drawing their attention as I marched to the field. “That is enough. Can’t you see the man is not fighting back?”
I hated bullies—another new discovery. With a flick of my hand, I indicated to the man standing over the injured man to move aside, but I underestimated my powers. He flew backward and took down several trainees from his team with him.
Take that, you bully. I flung the stick aside and hoped it hit him. I glared at the knight. “Did you notice that this poor man was injured?”
“Yes, Princess. But—”
“Then why didn’t you stop the fight?”
“He’s a minion. They are here as sparring partners.”
“Don’t you mean target practice? Why not fill bags with sand or use trees, for that matter, if you want to fight something that can’t fight back? I don’t get this. It’s senseless and unfair, and stupid. When a man is injured during sparring, the fight must be stopped. And you never pit a superior fighter against a trainee unless he’s teaching him. There’s no need to beat your fellow Hermonite into a pulp when it’s obvious he can’t self-heal.”
“I apologize if we’ve offended your sensibilities, Princess.” He sounded like I’d insulted him. “But I’ve trained royal guards, other knights, and regular guards for centuries. This is how we do things here.”
I didn’t care how many people he’d trained. He was a brutish-looking man with thick limbs, scraggy brown hair sprinkled with gray, and heavy eyebrows. His lips were thin and he had a cruel gleam in his green eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Sir Kellion, Princess.”
“I think it is time to change things around here, Sir Kellion. For now, this man—”I pointed at the bleeding minion—“needs to be healed.”
He glanced at some of the trainees. “Take him back to the hole and find him a healer.”
“Wait. Hole?” I asked.
“The minions”—he pointed at the trainees in plain T-shirts—“volunteer to train with the guards. Their families are paid handsomely for their, uh, participation.”
I frowned. “And the hole?”
“They don’t live with their families. They stay in special barracks and go home one week every month.”
“I don’t get it. The island has one city. Their families are a teleport away.”
Silence followed.
They don’t want their families to see them like this, Princess, Ruby telepathed.
Tears rushed to my eyes. How could Father let his people be treated like animals? I blinked to stop the tears from falling. The defeated minion watched me with one bloodied eye. The other was swollen shut and I felt every throbbing pulse of his pain. My anger shot up.
I squatted and he cringed. “I’m not going to hurt you. Give me your hand, please.” I offered him mine, but he didn’t take it.
His eyes went to Sir Kellion.
“Your princess gave you an order!” Sir Kellion barked.
It wasn’t an order, I wanted to snap. My eyes stayed on the wounded man. “Can you stand?”
He shook his head. He must have broken a leg. I didn’t recall hearing a snap.
“Will you let me heal you, please?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.
Surprise and then relief poured from him. He nodded.
“Princess Lilith, you shouldn’t,” Sir Kellion said.
I glared at Sir Kellion, wanting to kick his arrogant butt from here to yesterday. “Are you ordering me not to heal this man, Sir Kellion?”
“No, Princess. But minions—”
“…are Hermonites, subjects of my father’s kingdom, and deserve to be treated with the same courtesy as you and me.”
Sir Kellion’s jaw clenched. “Perhaps the princess is unaware of how we run things around here. Minions have their own healers.”
Perhaps the princess is aware but she doesn’t give a damn, I wanted to snap, but I remembered Lady Nemea’s teachings. “My father said it was okay. If you don’t believe me, ask him.”
Anger flashed in Sir Kellion’s eyes. Yeah, he wouldn’t dare ask my father.
“I’m very much aware of how things are done on the island, Sir Kellion. Most methods are great, but a few are outdated. Just because I was born with powers doesn’t make me better than him and others like him. Maybe we who have special abilities should prove ourselves worthy of their trust before we can lead them.”
Silence followed.
I looked around and dared anyone to contradict me. The crowd had gathered around us, and from the emotions pouring from them, they were shocked by what I’d said. Telepathic whispers followed as they repeated my words. I didn’t care.
I focused on the injured minion. It hurt to feel his emotions—gratitude, hope. The same emotions poured from the minions behind him.
I placed a hand on his cheek and another on his arm. Writings appeared on my arms, and then they started to glow. The cut above his eyebrow closed and the swelling on his eyes went down, until only smears of blood were left. A gentle swipe along his cheek, and the smear floated away. I offered him my hand, and this time he accepted it. I pulled him up.
“How come you don’t wear a shirt with my father’s crest?”
“I’m a minion, Princess. Minions are not issued uniforms,” he said hesitantly, his glance going to Sir Kellion.
“Hmm, interesting.” I noticed something else about the ones with the raven crest. They were buff and bigger, while the minions were skinny as though they were malnourished. “Thank you for allowing me to watch, Sir Kellion.”
Sir Kellion bowed and pressed a fisted hand to chest. “Princess.”
“Would the princess want to put her words to the test?” a voice called out as I turned.
I searched faces, trying to locate Green Eyes. “Test?”
“You said that those born with powers—”
“Know your place, minion,” Sir Kellion bellowed and grabbed him by his shirt. Green Eyes didn’t seem scared of the knight. Everything about him confused me. Drove me crazy. He was the last person I wanted to talk to, yet I couldn’t ignore him after defending the other minions.
“No, let him speak,” I said.
Sir Kellion didn’t look happy, especially when Green Eyes yanked his shirt from his grasp and said cockily, “Excuse me, Sir Kellion.”
Green Eyes sauntered to where I stood, my heart pounding with every step he took. For a minion, he was in great shape. I’d tried to ask the castle workers about him, but no one seemed to know him or remember seeing anyone with his description.
“What test?” I asked.
“Prove that you are not better than us,” Green Eyes said.
Gasps and murmurs buzzed around, but my eyes didn’t leave his. Heat crept up my face at the challenge. I wanted to kick him. Why did he insist on complicating my life? On the other hand, I had started this mess by interfering in the way Sir Kellion trained the guards.
“Prove that you are worthy to be our future leader,” Green Eyes added.
Silence followed, and varied emotions pouring from the guards and the minions—shock, amazement, fear, anger. My anger was directed at Green Eyes. Once again, I regretted coming to the training field. I really wanted to smack him.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked calmly, Lady Nemea’s teachings coming to my rescue.
“You should train with us once a week.”
Whispers followed. Unease filled the air. Sir Kellion looked ready to snap off Green Eyes’s head. The challenge was strange, but for some reason, it didn’t bother me. I was open to anything to escape lessons with Master Kenta.
“Deal,” I said.
Chuckles greeted my response, but Sir Kellion was practically foaming at the mouth.
“What is the problem, Sir Kellion?” I asked.
He bowed again. “Pardon me, but maybe the princess is better off training with the women.”
“Where do the women train?” I asked.
“From nine to eleven, when you are in the middle of your session with Master Kenta,” Callum said from behind me. “The men practice from seven to nine. You can join them before your lessons.”
“Look here, Callum. I make decisions that affect the guards,” Sir Kellion bellowed.
“And I make decisions that affect the princess’ education,” Master Kenta said from behind us. I didn’t know he’d come back. “If training with you makes her a better fighter, then she will train with you. If you have a problem with it, take it up with Lord Valafar.”
They glared at each other, Sir Kellion’s eyes changing from brown to red.
What had I started? “Uh, you know what? I can train with the women,” I said.
“No,” Master Kenta snapped, his eyes still locked with Sir Kellion’s. “You will train with the men once a week.”
Sir Kellion looked like he’d swallowed a frog. “We look forward to having you join us, Princess.”
“Thank you.” I searched for Green Eyes, but he was gone. I didn’t understand him. Why did he want me to train with the men? How did he appear and disappear without anyone questioning him?
“Your father will never allow you to train with them,” Master Kenta said when we teleported back to the gazebo.
I wasn’t too sure of that. “Then why did you insist I train with them?”
“I’ve never liked Sir Kellion and his methods of using minions as punching bags. He needs to be stopped.”
For once, he and I agreed on something. “I agree. Leave Father to me.”