5

A Heartsrune ceremony was also a celebration: children received their first heartsglass in their thirteenth year. Nobles and commoners alike looked on while asha summoned runes to fill heartscases with various colors of red. Occasionally, a lucky child would see their hearts turn purple, singling them out for the artisan’s life, inexorably entwined with those of an asha’s. They would become apothecaries who create beauty, accessory makers who churn out zivar, and ateliers to cloth asha in the latest fashions—even village witches, like my sisters.

The unluckiest of the bunch would find their heartsglass shine silver and would be required to turn themselves over to the asha-ka association the following day, an asha’s apprenticeship awaiting the girls and a Deathseeker’s novitiate for the boys.

Drawing Heartsrune was a relatively easy task even for someone with Mykaela’s poor health. I would have preferred that she remained in bed, but I understood her need to be useful. Polaire had been just as hesitant. The brunette hovered close by like a mother hen in case Mykaela should falter. She did not.

Odalians were suspicious of asha but tolerated them for the historical ties Odalian royalty shares with the spellbinders. But Dark asha are a separate category altogether, and for them, the people’s hatred runs deep. Attuned as I was to heartsglass, I felt the differing emotions running through the audience. Their contempt for bone witches like Mykaela and me—the only two surviving in all the kingdoms—was plain to see, and they felt secure in the knowledge that, in crowds, it was safe to hate without repercussions. Not for the first time, I wondered how Mykaela managed to do this year after year.

Four hundred and twenty-six children turned up for the event, and as we neared the end of the line, my sister-asha had found seven purple heartsglass and three silver. It was not those children I worried for. All the silvers were girls. My trepidation was for Likh, who was among the last of those waiting. There was no need for Mykaela to trace Heartsrune for him; his was already a blinding silver. But due to his unusual circumstances, he had yet to hold his own Heartsrune ceremony, and it could no longer be delayed.

Deathseekers were even rarer than asha, bone witches the only sect more limited in number. Likh was the only Deathseeker found in the last two years, and that realization was not lost on our audience. Heads craned in his direction, their expressions a mixture of derision and confusion. Likh served as an apprentice for Chesh, the popular zivarmaker, and was dressed in his apprentice robes. And yet, looking at his graceful features and slender frame, one would find it difficult to see him as male.

Mykaela’s pace did not slow. She bowed gravely to the young boy, and Likh returned her gesture with solemnity. His resigned expression turned to one of amazement when other asha stepped forward: first Polaire and Zoya, then Shadi and Zoya’s friends Yonca, Sveta, and Tami. And then to my surprise, Altaecia stepped forward from the crowd; as Princess Inessa’s bodyguard, I thought she was in Kion, looking after her ward.

As much as I wanted to, I made no move to join them. The Odalians will not treat a bone witch’s opinion with the same merits they would an asha’s. I watched my sisters surround the startled Likh. Lady Mykaela moved back, quietly losing herself in the crowd of courtiers and nobles, as Polaire slid a beautiful diamond-studded zivar out of her short brown hair and gently tucked it behind the boy’s ear.

The other asha followed suit, taking off their beautiful hairpieces and placing them on Likh. There were gasps from the crowd, the implication obvious. We had lodged numerous appeals to the asha-ka association to admit Likh to the asha, with little success. Now Polaire and the others were making their protests public for all to see.

Likh trembled. His gaze turned in my direction, and I responded with a tiny, supportive wave.

Prince Kance stepped forward. He was dressed in the Odalian royal uniform, ceremonial clothes of golden buttons and silver embroidery worn only for coronations or royal weddings. He bowed low to the awestruck boy.

If that is not approval enough, then nothing else will sway the association to our side, Fox murmured in my head.

The prince turned toward King Telemaine. I glanced back at the crowd and saw Khalad among those watching, his face set and angry as he stared at his father.

Mykaela had quietly resurfaced beside us. I tugged at her sleeve. “Why is Althy here?” I whispered.

“The First Daughter arrived from Kion a few hours ago,” she whispered back. “Althy was quite keen to take part in the festivities. Given her position, her actions carry the empress’s support as well.”

“Nobody told me about this.” I felt a little hurt.

It was her turn to look startled. “Didn’t Polaire tell you?”

“No. And Prince Kance too?”

“He offered. This will lend more credence to our petition. The association will want the prince’s support on other issues and may be more amenable as a result.”

“And so ends our Heartsrune day,” King Telemaine announced in a grave voice. “Younglings: use your heartsglass well, and choose your paths wisely. Let today be the first day of the rest of your lives. I know that it will be the first day of the rest of mine.”

A faint murmur ran through the crowd, unsure of what he meant.

“Today is a day for celebrations,” he continued. “It is only fitting that I announce another. Kance.”

Obediently, the crown prince stepped forward, his confusion was obvious. “Father? You still haven’t—”

“I am honored to have the lovely Princess Inessa here in Odalia to celebrate Heartsrune Day with us. Kion has always been our staunchest ally, and together we have worked to bring peace and prosperity to our respective kingdoms. Today, we will officially cement our long alliance.”

A beautiful young woman joined the prince and his father. She wore a magnificent hua of amber and white, with sleeves that trailed past her arms the way royal princesses from Kion wore them, and her train flared out several yards behind her. The lower half of her face was veiled, as was customary, though the sheer lace was transparent enough for her delicate features to be seen. I heard Fox draw in a sharp breath beside me. Shock flared through the bond we shared before he swiftly hauled it back.

“It is my honor today,” King Telemaine said, “to officially declare the engagement of my son, Crown Prince Kance, to the beautiful Princess Inessa, the First Daughter of Kion!”

The crowd cheered. Kance’s eyes widened, and he turned pale for a moment before swiftly recovering. I stumbled back.

“Steady,” Fox instructed, though the faint tremor in his voice painted his own words shaky. He could not look away from Princess Inessa, who spotted him but averted her gaze.

The next couple of hours passed in a daze. I was barely cognizant of what I was doing, like I was watching myself through some other person’s eyes. I looked on as I smiled and shook the hand of the beaming King Telemaine. “I must commend Polaire for helping me bring this all together,” he said with his customary near-deafening laugh. “She is a treasure, your Polaire.”

“Is she, Your Majesty?” I heard myself murmur, struggling to make small talk.

“She broke up a plot of the Faceless against the Yadoshans—an attempt on Lord Besserly’s life, their Grand Duke. Endeared them to us in the process, so we’re in talks for a better trade route. And she was most supportive regarding my son’s engagement. I cannot thank her and you, asha, enough.”

I barely had time to congratulate Princess Inessa before a bevy of handmaidens swept her away to the next group of well-wishers.

Then Prince Kance’s hand grasped mine. With as much sincerity as I could muster, I found myself mouthing platitudes, wishing him all the best in his forthcoming marriage.

He smiled back, and I wondered if I only imagined the faint melancholy lingering at the edges of his mouth. “Thank you, Tea,” he said, “I’m glad you approve.” His kind words dug deeper into my gut. “I only wish that…” He stopped, staring over my shoulder with a puzzled frown.

I turned but saw no one. “Prince Kance?”

He blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been having headaches for the last few days.”

“You must not work yourself too hard, Your Highness.”

“I know, but I’ve had little time to rest, and Lady Altaecia’s herbal teas don’t seem to be working.” His green eyes, worried, met mine. Then he said, “I wanted to tell you sooner. About the engagement. I should have told you sooner. I don’t understand why I didn’t.”

“I thought you didn’t know,” I said, bewildered. “You looked fairly shocked at the announcement.”

“I knew. I just wasn’t expecting Father to issue the proclamation today. And he didn’t…” He stopped, frowning, almost seeming to forget I was there.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?”

“Kance,” Kalen said, materializing behind the prince, “your father wishes to speak to you.”

The prince shook his head and smiled weakly at me again. “I have to go. Thank you again, Lady Tea. Kalen, keep her company for me.”

“I have better things to do.”

“No, you don’t.” The prince’s voice was unnaturally stern. “See to her concerns. I want you to watch over Lady Tea the same way you watch over me. I have some important matters I need to discuss with Father.”

“She can handle herself just fine.”

“Please, Kalen.”

Kalen scowled. Together, we watched the prince leave, but as soon as he was out of sight, I spun around.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Kalen demanded.

“Away.” Kalen was the last person I wanted to see me cry. I took a step toward the door, and he grabbed my hand.

“Listen here, Tea. I know that you’re—”

I whirled back, my eyes glistening. “I thought you had better things to do,” I hissed.

Kalen hesitated, staring at my face. After a moment, he let go.

Fox was waiting for me by the doorway. His face was grim, as he was eager to be off himself. But Polaire caught me as we were leaving. “Come here, Tea,” she commanded. “Stay. Their royal majesties would be offended by you slinking away like this.”

Perhaps it was the events of the day compounded by my vulnerability, but I chose to be snippy. “I don’t want to.”

Polaire frowned. “Immaturity isn’t becoming of an asha, Tea.”

“Maybe if you didn’t persist in treating me like a child, I might be more motivated to act like an adult!”

She scowled, displeased by the furtive looks being thrown our way. “Is this because I neglected to tell you about our plan with Likh? Come now, Tea. You shouldn’t fuss over such a trivial matter.”

“Yes, I should. I suppose your taking credit for rescuing Lord Besserly shouldn’t be held against you either. Or the prince’s own engagement, which I had no inkling of until the announcement an hour ago.”

“Tea, that’s not fair.”

Tea, Fox warned me. This is not the time.

I knew I had to leave. To lose my temper in a roomful of nobles would not be to anyone’s advantage, least of all my own. But I couldn’t resist one last dig.

“Or perhaps it would suit you better if I shut my mouth and did as you wish, like a little toy dog performing tricks for no purpose other than to please you. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter that I risk life and limb to put down daeva, risk sanity to confront a Faceless you are too cowardly to interrogate yourself. But I’m the immature one, aren’t I?”

I didn’t wait for Polaire’s response. I turned on my heel and strode off, glad she realized her hypocrisy enough not to pursue.

The celebrations continued for the rest of the night until, I was told later, the early hours of the morning. Fox and I said little, looking out from my window into the world below, at the expanse of the city. “What are we doing?” I finally asked. “How ridiculous are we to be depressed about two people who are engaged to one other?”

“At least we’re still doing things together.”

I started giggling, and it caught on. Fox and I laughed at our absurdity, laughed until we had exhausted our surplus, until the lights winked out, one after the other, as the twenty thousand eyes of the city closed to dream.

Fox stayed with me until I fell asleep. When I woke sometime later, he was gone. I could feel him somewhere within Kneave, aimless. Beyond him, the shadows stirred and sighed, the azi sensing my melancholy and commiserating.

Alone in my room, I held up my heartsglass. Framed against the moonlight, it sparkled back at me. Resigned sadness occasionally marred the surface, but to my credit, neither resentment nor anger clouded its glass. It would take much more than this, I knew, to break my heart.