As we sweep along the wide corridor, Jordan keeps pace on one side of me and Elise strides on the other. They’re my constant companions and I count myself lucky that I can also call them my friends. To be chosen for their positions, they went through a set of protocols seven years ago—similar to the ones my future husband will go through over the next few weeks: tests of emotional and physical strength, intelligence and, most important of all, compatibility. But even if I wanted to tell them everything, there are some things that nobody can know.

Such as what really happened on the night I became the Storm Princess.

I can’t be alone with Baelen Rath.

“Jordan, it’s important that you remain with me at all times.” I try to soften my order with an attempted smile.

“I understand, Princess.”

I glance at her and the grim look she gives me tells me she really does understand. The rulebook setting out the champion protocols is inches thick. It starts with dictating how each House chooses their nominated champion and ends with orders about my wedding night. I struggle not to roll my eyes about that.

There are so many rules it makes my head spin. I remember the first time I laid eyes on the giant book and I’d asked, “What happened to falling in love?”

Back then, Elise gave me the only stern response she ever spoke to me: “A Princess does not love. She does what is right for her people.”

That was when I’d banished all thoughts of Baelen from my mind. Or, at least, I’d tried to.

I turn to Elise next, but I don’t have to say anything. Her expression tells me she’s way ahead of me. The way her eyes fill with worry, the slight frown creasing her forehead. She’s thinking hard about my situation right now. Baelen Rath is an added complication to what happened in the Vault—what I did with the storm.

“We need to talk about the weather,” she says and I know it’s code for: we need to talk about the storm, Baelen, and basically everything that seems to be going wrong today.

The biggest question for me is: did anyone else hear the rain? I don’t think they could have because the Vault is soundproof—it has to be to contain the thunder: the vibrations produced by the perfect storm can cause whole buildings to collapse.

Because of that, I don’t think Elise heard the rain’s warning. For a moment, I debate whether I should tell her. I need to talk to someone about it. As much as I love Jordan, she can’t know about any of it. The rules again—only Elise can know what goes on in the Vault.

As we emerge from the corridor into the light, I flip my head back and growl my frustration at the sky. There’s enough thunder inside me to rumble past my lips and scare the nearby civilian elves. They scatter away from me as the Storm Command—and me inside the circle—takes the paved path through the gardens.

Above us, the artificial sun shines high in the afternoon sky. A thousand years ago, when the elves were forced from the surface of the Earth, they used deep magic to create an entire ecosystem between layers of the Earth, complete with a sun and moon, forests and rivers. We were at peace with the gargoyles then, and we divided our new home into two parts: Erawind for the elves and Erador for the gargoyles. The humans don’t know we’re here. Far above us, on the Earth’s surface, there’s a city of skyscrapers—I think they call it Chicago.

The Storm Vault itself is contained inside a citadel in the middle of our highest place of learning—the heart of Erawind and home to priceless spell books. The elves would never have chosen to locate the Vault here, but the storm was deliberately sent to this place to destroy all of our most precious knowledge. The elves had no choice but to contain its fury in the closest building possible—which turned out to be the stone tower where young spellcasters used to take lessons.

It means I’m surrounded by both warriors and scholars at all times. It’s an uneasy cohabitation. The passing professors bow deeply to me, but I know they still mourn the loss of the sanctity of their school and resentment lies beneath the respect they show me. The perfect storm is a constant threat to their most precious belongings, as well as their lives.

I leave puddles in my wake. I’m dripping and my body temperature is dropping. As a spellcaster, Elise has the power to warm me, but magic doesn’t mix well with the storm’s fury. It won’t be safe for anyone to touch me for at least another hour.

My plight is my own.

I sigh. I’m desperate for that hot bath.

“Princess!” The shriek from the side of the gardens breaks through my thoughts.

Jordan and Elise immediately close ranks around me. The Storm Command forms an impenetrable circle. I sigh with frustration, because they’re all taller than me. At a little more than five feet three inches, I have no hope of seeing over the protective barrier they’ve formed to identify the source of the commotion.

“Princess! Princess!” As the crying female draws nearer, I recognize her voice.

“Let her through, but don’t let her touch me for her own sake.”

The Storm Command’s circle opens so suddenly that the running elf skids through it. Jordan catches her at the last moment before she slides into me.

The newcomer’s red hair flows around her. Elves come in all shapes, sizes, and skin colors, but only female elves in the House of Reverie have hair the color of blood. My own hair is auburn and a pale comparison.

I keep my distance as I address her. “Rebecca, what is it?”

“Princess, you must come at once. Mai is ill.”

Mai Reverie—the dancer who used to meditate inside the rain. She never told me, but I sensed that she had a similar connection with the rain that I have with the lightning.

“She’s asking for you. She won’t speak to anyone else. Only you.”

My eyes widen. “She’s refusing help?”

“She is. She won’t let anyone help her until she speaks with you.”

Beside me, Elise’s worried eyes meet mine and I wish I could read her thoughts. In ancient times, spellcasters had the ability to sneak into another elf’s mind and catch their thoughts, but that practice was exposed and outlawed when the last elven King died. It was his scheming that turned the gargoyles into our enemies. He was the first to die in the storm and because he had no children, the heads of the elven houses agreed to form a new Elven Command in which all the Houses had representation and a vote.

I race after Rebecca, trying not to connect with anyone as I move. The Storm Command quickly clears a path for me and I marvel at their efficiency. Three females dart forward, clearing the way ahead, while the others close ranks and keep perfect pace with me.

Mai’s quarters are on the other side of the square. She’s the only other former princess who’s still alive. The other two lived for hundreds of years each, hanging on until the Storm chose its next princess.

My own quarters are on the opposite side of the square—Mai vacated them when the storm chose me. There’s never any resentment on the part of the vacating Princess. We have no real political power—that rests with the Elven Command. And besides, who’d want to spend their days fighting with a storm?

I still remember the look of relief Mai gave me when I met her for the first time. Her relief was so huge, it terrified me about what I was taking on.

I race through the outer wall of her quarters, through her personal garden and its neatly sculpted stone and sand arrangements. I slow my pace as we run toward the inner rooms. I call the Storm Command to slow down, too. “Go carefully.”

The female elves become like wraiths, their footsteps light, barely perceptible. My own are heavier because of the weight of the storm I’ve absorbed and my boots squelch on the pristine marble floor.

Jordan gives my feet a glance and I shrug my shoulders. I’m noisy, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Besides… the energy radiating from Mai’s greeting room tells me she’ll sense me coming no matter what. Her inner quarters are surrounded by indoor plants—vines full of red roses curling across the top of the door and internal windows. The House of Reverie is known for its ability to cultivate plants in any environment.

Jordan signals for the elves to halt and turns to me. “Her door is open.”

She describes it to me because they’re blocking my view. An open door, at least, is a good sign, because in elven society it’s a sign of good faith. Mai isn’t hiding anything.

“Open.” The Storm Command obeys me instantly, shuffling back into a crescent keeping my back safe so that I have a direct view of Mai’s quarters through the door. It fills me with faith to see how much they trust my commands.

Mai and her husband Darian sit on the rug in the middle of the room. Mai’s legs are in an awkward position, making me think she collapsed in that position, while Darian is supporting her. Beads of sweat rest on her brow and her dress is shiny as if she went swimming in it.

I step forward, but Elise is quicker. “No, Princess.”

I spin to her.

Her forehead is creased into a hard frown. “Princess, if there’s illness inside that room then you can’t be exposed to it.”

I shake my head. “I’m full of storm, Elise. I’m as strong as I’ll ever be. Mai needs my help. I can feel it. I’m not backing away from this.”

“I don’t expect you to, but please let me come with you.”

I’m surprised she thought I’d go in without her. She’s not only my advisor but my best friend. “Of course.”

Rebecca hovers beside me. “She said she’d speak only with you, Princess.”

“I understand, Rebecca, thank you for telling me, but the rules are the rules: a member of the Storm Command must be with me at all times.”

Rebecca bows her head and clears the way as Elise and I step into the room. The Storm Command forms an impenetrable barrier behind me and spreads out to guard the windows on either side.

I turn to Elise. “But that doesn’t mean everyone has to listen.”

“I understand.” Elise turns her hand to the side and passes it across the doorway as we step inside the room and I trust her to create a sound barrier between us and the watching elves.

Darian lifts his head while Mai reaches out a hand to me. Her skin is much paler than normal.

“Marbella,” she says. “I’m sorry to greet you in this state.”

I drop to my knees. “What happened, Mai?”

The concern on Darian’s face makes me envy the love between them. He allows her to lean against him, supporting her in an upright position.

He says, “She collapsed while she was gardening. I carried her in here, but then…”

He glances at her as if seeking her permission.

In response, Mai places her hand on his. “It’s all right… I can tell her.”

She turns to me. “I started to rain.”

Elise frowns beside me. “It started to rain?”

“No,” Mai says, “I started to rain.”

I’m sure I misheard. “You started to… what?”

In response, Mai leans back into Darian, turning her head into his shoulder, whispering, “Will you help me show them?”

“I will always help you,” he says, but he turns to us first, his expression stern. “She’s weak and I’ll only assist her to do this once. Then you have to get help.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her to her feet, pulling her upright. Her legs wobble, but he keeps her straight long enough for me to see what I need to see.

Her dress changes color halfway down, dark and saturated from her ribcage, but dry at her shoulders. Her hair, too, is completely dry, wispy strands floating around her. But her hands and feet…

Water drips from her fingertips and puddles around her feet. I can tell from how dry her head and shoulders are that the water isn’t falling from anywhere above her. It’s dripping from her fingers and toes. It’s coming from her.

I meet her eyes and I know there’s more. It was the rain that spoke to me in the Vault, and Mai always had an affinity with the rain.

Her fingers move. The change is so slight that I can barely perceive it, but then…

Everything slows around me. Elise is half-turning, her eyes wide, one arm rising to point at the water falling from Mai’s hands. Darian is about to speak, his mouth half-open. Then everything… stops.

Even the water droplets suspend in mid-air. Except for Mai and me.

“What did you do?” I ask, barely breathing.

“I used the power of the thunder to suspend time.”

“You what? But you’re not the Princess anymore. How can you channel the storm? That’s…”

“You have so much to learn about the power of the storm, but they won’t let me teach you. You’ll have to learn on your own like I had to.”

“Who won’t let you teach me?”

“Marbella, you need to listen to me. We only have a few moments. The rain spoke to me. Someone’s cursed the protocols.”

“It spoke to me, too!”

I edge toward her. Glimmers of lightning wrap around my fingers, but I push them down. Mai isn’t a threat to me.

She looks relieved that I already know. “Then you know your husband will be cursed to kill you.”

I suck in a deep breath. “The rain told me. But I don’t know what to do.”

She doesn’t hesitate. “You have to fight for yourself.”

“What?”

“Be your own champion. Win the challenges. Accept no male as your husband. It’s the only way.”

“But I need to bond. The storm’s getting stronger. It’s too strong for me.”

“No, Marbella, no. You already have everything you need to control it. The Elven Command wants you to believe that you aren’t enough—that you need to share the burden. But you’ll discover once you marry that it’s all a lie. The other Princesses weren’t alive to tell me, but I’m telling you. You are all you need.”

She glances at Darian. “I love him and I wouldn’t change my marriage for all the world and, yes, he has supported me and been my best friend, but the moment he stepped into the Vault it almost killed him!

“I’m forbidden to speak of it, Marbella. But the truth is that we are the Storm. Only us. Only our bodies. And now… the storm is choosing to connect with me again, trying to send you a message through me.”

“We have to get you help.”

She gently shakes her head. “Soon. I promise I’ll be okay. But you need to understand your power.”

“But… why? Why does the Elven Command make us marry if it doesn’t help us?”

“So that we are never seen to hold all of the power ourselves. So that we are not all-powerful.” She grimaces. “I can’t hold time much longer. Promise me you’ll fight for yourself. Promise me!”

I have so many more questions. So much else to ask her.

But at the heart of what she said is the answer to saving Baelen: I will fight for myself. Even though confusion whirls through me about everything Mai revealed to me, I’m filled with intense relief.

As everything speeds up around us, I say, “Thank you, dear friend.”

She nods and collapses against Darian.

I spin to Elise. My advisor shivers beside me, running her hand through her hair as if she’s pulling off cobwebs. She’s a gifted spellcaster and will be able to sense that something just happened, but she won’t understand how. She doesn’t know the power of the storm. As it turns out, I don’t either.

I know I should tell her what just happened, but Mai spoke only to me for a reason. I meet Rebecca’s eyes across the room. She’s Mai’s advisor—she would have seen what happened when Darian accompanied Mai into the Vault.

She must know the truth about the marriage protocol. Her lips are pressed together. I know she won’t speak a word of it.

I spin to Elise before she can say anything. “Mai needs help now. Call the healers, please.”

Elise waves her hand, lifting the cloak of silence around the room, and the message is relayed back through my Storm Command. Two of my elves separate from the others and sprint away, their lithe bodies a blur of movement. Of the ten, they are my message bearers, chosen for their speed. Every one of my Command is highly trained and hand picked to excel.

I’m afraid to touch Mai in case the power inside me could hurt her, but I kneel and lean as close as I can. “I’ll do as you say.”

I will fight for myself.