Adaline sat up and blinked as she fought back nausea threatening her insides. The room swam in and out of focus, and the crown princess eased her way back to rest against the pillows and closed her eyes. She wasn’t certain but highly suspected the magic she’d performed a week ago was still causing her sickness.

She’d only managed a few bites of the bland gruel her maid had brought before throwing it up. Adaline shivered, her teeth clacking from the freezing cold, yet sweat dripped down her forehead and stung her eyes. Waves of nausea rolled through her body, but if she held really still, the room stopped spinning, and her stomach settled its painful churning. A distinct improvement from yesterday.

The crack between the heavy velvet draperies allowed a slice of the day to spill across the width of her room, illuminating the rest of the space with muted sunlight. Her bedclothes and quilts were twisted and rumpled around her, regardless of the fact that her maid Portia straightened them every time Adaline crawled to her washroom. The deep-blue damask coverlet slid off the other side of her large bed, but the princess was too ill to reach for the blanket.

She was too ill to do anything except wish she wasn’t ill.

“Would you like me to send for the physician, Highness? Perhaps if they bleed you this time—”

Adaline was no doctor, but the idea of bleeding someone who was sick seemed insane. “No,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then let me send for the Celestial Sisters,” Portia said, biting her lip.

“No.” Adaline’s head throbbed with pressure that made her see spots, and her stomach heaved again. But there was nothing left in her stomach, and she retched over the pot only once before reclining again. “I mean yes but only my aunt. Would you send for the queen regent, please?”

A memory filled Adaline’s mind, from years ago when she used to see threads of magic. She’d seen it for years she realized, six years; and she’d told her mother and father about the vibrant strands, but they only complimented on her vivid imagination.

Dimira was the only one who understood. She explained how she, too, had once seen threads of magic, and over time, she’d honed the ability and joined the Celestial Sisters in Zelena. In fact, Dimira was a witch of considerable power. After Dimira assessed Adaline’s power, the queen and king dismissed the princess. She’d sat outside the room, pressing her ear to the crack in the doorframe.

“Adaline’s power is weak but very wild.” Dimira had cautioned the king and queen. “There’s a possibility of it causing great harm, both to her and others. If she wishes, I can take her powers. I will not do it unless it is voluntary, though.”

It was only months after that when Adaline began hallucinating, visions of trees reaching out with knobby fingers, poisonous fruit, and an old woman holding a beating heart . . . There had been so many horrible nightmares and daymares that eventually, Adaline begged her aunt to help.

Adaline remembered her aunt brewing a special tea and singing a soothing, haunting melody over and over to quiet the young girl’s fear, and then when Adaline woke up the next morning, the glowing threads had vanished. Funny how her mind had completely forgotten about the magic . . . until now.

“Adaline, dear?” Dimira pushed open the door. Since becoming Queen Regent, she’d taken to the habit of wearing the queen’s robes. She strode to the bed, a frown marring her otherwise beautiful features. “Whatever is wrong? Your servant said you’re still not feeling well. Did you catch a fever?” Dimira’s frown deepened as she rested her cold hand on Adaline’s hot brow.

Adaline shivered, not only from her aunt’s frigid touch, but the princess saw black tendrils much like a midnight spider’s web tangled around her aunt’s fingers. Even after Dimira removed her hand, Adaline could feel the filaments of web clinging to her skin. She blinked and saw a hag instead of her aunt and screamed in terror. Adaline blinked and the image disappeared, leaving only Dimira, and Adaline whimpered.

Dimira’s eyes widened, and she crouched down next to Adaline and whispered, “What have you done?”

“I just wanted to help,” Adaline mumbled, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the vibrant-green glow of her maid’s figure in the dark fibers of the room; or Dimira’s red energy, the color of old, congealed blood. “I thought if I could bring the wall down, we could attack Beloch.”

Dimira cleared her throat, and a slow smile spread across her face. Still crouching next to her niece, Dimira said, “Your magic is back.”

Adaline pursed her lips and shook her head until the room swam. “I don’t have magic. Not like you. Remember, you made it go away?”

Dimira’s smile turned victorious. “No, my child. I bound it, but there is no way to get rid of magic. It’s part of who you are.”

“And you, too.”

Dimira nodded. “Yes, but yours is different. Remember, I bought you a fish at the market from a magic-peddler traveling through Cervene? You were devastated when you awoke the next morning to find the creature dead. The merchant had promised the fish’s enchantment would keep it alive out of water. We marched back to the market, and you shoved the dead, stinky fish at the seller.”

“I did that?” Adaline strained to remember the encounter but only managed to exacerbate the pounding in her head.

“Yes, you did. The man was perplexed but refused to return the money. Instead, he replaced the enchanted fish with a frog that was actually a cat. The creatures would shift back and forth depending on if it was wet. He demonstrated to prove the value of this charmed amphibian-cat, but when he gave it to you, the frog became a cat as soon as you touched it even though it was still dripping with water. Worse, when you put the creature in the tub of water, the furry animal did not change but scratched and hissed before clawing its way out of the bucket. By the time you ruined three magical creatures and one magical flower, the peddler refused any further dealings, throwing the gold coin at our feet.”

The memory surfaced, and Adaline stared at her aunt as dawning realization struck. “Is that why I could make a gap in the wall?”

Dimira sat on the edge of the bed, resting her hand on her niece’s leg. “Tell me exactly how it happened.”

Reclined on her pillows, Adaline gave an abbreviated version regarding her trip to the wall, leaving out the part where Evzan had to cover her with his cloak because she'd burned off most of her clothes. She also didn’t mention how the air around them was charged with a magnetic energy after her clothes disintegrated into ash. “It blew me back several feet each time, really hard. Almost as bad as if Evzan threw me.”

Dimira’s eyes brightened. “You tried to cross the border with a weapon in your hand, and you’re still alive? You’ve been highly favored to receive such powerful magic.”

“I can see colors and strange patterns in the air again. I’m seeing them now, along with things that aren’t real. Like you’re you but also someone different.” Adaline wasn’t going to tell her aunt about the vicious looking hag she’d seen. Her memory of the hallucinations from before was resurfacing. She’d had fun playing with the bright colors, but they’d always disappeared so quickly as if her touch absorbed the vibrancy.

Dimira brushed her hand over Adaline’s sweaty curls. “That just means you’re starting to get your magic back. You must’ve ripped through the binding we placed a decade ago.”

A decade seemed like such a long time. Had it really been that long? And had Adaline ripped a hole in the binding or had the magical wall?

The door clicked, and the smell of ginger tea permeated the room. Adaline’s stomach responded immediately; the constant tightness and churning waned and then melted away.

“Over there,” Dimira whispered to the servant, and the shuffling footsteps indicated the maid was putting the tray on the sitting room table.

Ginger was magical for stomach pain. Right. Magic . . .

“Did you try your magic?” Adaline asked, her eyes popping open. “On the wall?”

Dimira had been studying her, and Adaline’s skin itched with the intensity of her aunt’s scrutiny. But the princess’s question had been in earnest, and she repeated it. “Did you try to tear the Fire down?”

Dimira nodded. “My magic only sizzles against the wall and then disappears. It’s not effective at getting anyone through, myself included.” She picked up Adaline’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s no secret I want to destroy that kingdom. Tsar Baine deserves justice for slaughtering the witches. Very few, if any, Celestial Sisters remain in Beloch. Last I heard, only mortals inhabit the abbeys there.”

Adaline’s eyes snapped open. “The list of names. The Celestial Sister warned that someone was hunting us, me included. And I’m a witch, probably all of the women on that list were.”

“What is this? What are you talking about, my darling?” Dimira asked, her smooth skin pinched in confusion.

“I think that Celestial Sister who died in the garden, right before the ball, was trying to warn me that Tsar Baine is hunting witches, and if all of the witches die, he’ll rule all of Cytri.”

Dimira’s pale skin blanched, and she brought her fingers to her lips. Shaking her head, she said, “I need to discuss this with the Abbess.”

Adaline tried to sit up. “I meant to tell her, but then my family—”

“It’s not your fault.” Dimira reached out, pushing back on Adaline’s shoulder.

“We must get through the wall. We need to defeat him. It’s not fair,” Adaline said, tears leaking from her eyes. “Why do we have to lose so much? Do the Celestials hate us?” Her heart ached with loss as it had every day since her sister’s departure. Just thinking about her sister’s abduction and worse filled Adaline with rage, and she wanted to burn Beloch to the ground.

Dimira’s expression mirrored the pain Adaline felt.

“You’re right,” Dimira said. “It’s not fair. But you and I, we can make it right.” The queen regent straightened, and her eyes hardened. “We’ll need to train your magic to heed you. I don’t know, but I think if you harness and control your magic, the pain will go away. I think your magic is battling the binding, and that is what is making you ill. I’m so sorry, Adaline.”

Adaline swallowed, her eyes filling with tears. “Can’t you just take it off? If you remove the binding, won’t that take the pain away?”

Dimira frowned, and her gaze went glassy for several moments before she focused back on Adaline. “I wish I could, but the binding and your magic are enmeshed. If I try and remove the binding, I may ruin your magic. I don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize us getting the rest of the army across the border.”

Adaline not only understood, she agreed with all of her heart.

“How soon do we start training?” Training—the word made her think of Evzan, and she wondered where her guard was. After all his talk about never letting her out of his sight, she hadn’t seen him since she woke up. He probably had a weak stomach. The idea made her lips tip up into a grim smile.

“Tomorrow,” Dimira said, standing. “I’ll have to speak with my advisors to clear a time in my schedule.” She gave Adaline a piercing look. “At some point, you need to start attending the assemblies and meetings. Three months seems like forever away, but, Princess Adaline, your people need to see you, and you need to learn to rule. It would be a disservice to Cervene to take the throne still ignorant of the workings of your kingdom.”

Guilt and shame pounded Adaline’s mind, and she inclined her head. “Of course. As soon as I can, I’ll make a point of being more involved. Evzan keeps saying the same thing.” Even though she hated to agree with him on anything, she had to acknowledge the wisdom. “You’re both right . . . But I’ll always have your help, right?”

Dimira smiled, and Adaline felt a bolster of the queen regent’s magic, a warm sensation that eased the pain ravaging the princess’s body. “Yes, my dear. You’ll always have me here to help you.”

Adaline woke up several hours later, but she kept her eyes closed as she took inventory of her pain. She shook her head, gently moving it only a fraction of an inch before expanding the movement. A slow smile spread across her face as she accepted that her headache was really better. Next, she took a deep breath. Her smile widened as she exhaled without any of the crushing pressure on her chest. Adaline’s stomach gave a loud growl of hunger, and she snickered.

“Feeling better, Princess?” Evzan’s rough voice broke the silence and wiped the smile off her face.

She opened her eyes and located him on the other side of her still-dark room. His shadowy figure, tall and broad shouldered, drew closer.

Adaline’s glare morphed into confusion as the muted light illuminated Evzan’s features. She saw him, only he had another image superimposed ontop of him. Both images had the same golden-blond hair, but the other Evzan stood taller. His features looked sharper, and four deep scars extended from his scalp to his chin on the side of his face. Also, this other-Evzan dressed in red leather armor, a color and attire she’d never seen him in.

“Are you okay?” he asked, crossing the room to her bed.

She gasped for air, and her heart raced. Blinking rapidly, stars burst behind her eyelids, and she held out her hands to stop his approach.

Of course, he didn’t heed her. Closing the gap between them, he reached her bedside and grabbed her outstretched hands in his calloused ones. His warmth enveloped her, and he said, “Breathe, Adaline.”

She sucked in a breath and shut her eyes, waiting for the pain of her magic to roar back. Only it didn’t. She blinked her eyes open again and, snatching her hands back, asked, “How long have you been in here?”

He dropped his hands to his sides and answered, “A few hours. I slipped in while you and your aunt were talking. The tea is cold, but it might still help.”

“You brought the tea?”

Evzan raised his eyebrows at her. “Did you think I only knew about fighting?”

Yes. “No,” she said. When his gaze continued to bore into hers, she amended, “Well, maybe.”

He chuckled, a low rumble of humor. “I’m not offended, Highness. It’s a special brew. I haven’t had occasion to concoct it for years, but it’s excellent for healing.” He retrieved the tray, set it at her bedside, and then handed her a cup and saucer. “I put a spoonful of honey in it, but you may not want the sweetness. I just guessed.”

She accepted the cup and sipped at the cold tea, more out of obligation than because she wanted it. The honey-ginger brew tingled across her tongue, the perfect blend of sweet and tanginess, and it soothed her frayed nerves. She drained the cup and then held it out. “May I have more, please? It’s delicious.” Her throat no longer hurt, and the tightness in her chest was gone. With a sigh, she asked, “Is it magical?”

He smirked as he took the cup and poured her a second. “Only for stomach aches. Some people say it helps headaches, but I don’t believe ginger was ever meant to be a panacea for all ailments.”

She took the proffered tea and sipped, grimacing when she tasted there was no sweetness to balance the now overly strong ginger flavor. He smiled, and it was like she woke up to an entirely new Evzan. This Evzan was kind and considerate, something she didn’t even know was possible up until this point.

“You prefer honey,” he stated. “I’ll ask the kitchen to send up hot water and honey. Here,” he said, extending a pouch of loose-leaf tea. “Just add one tablespoon to your pot, and let it steep for at least five minutes.”

She nodded, accepting the sachet and then setting it on her nightstand. “Thank you.”

He continued to look at her, not necessarily studying her but as if he was measuring something about her.

“What?” she asked warily, suddenly aware of just how close he was to her bed. And how did he get permission to be inside her quarters?

He stepped back from her bedside. “I’d like to give you a gift, but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to pursue you romantically. It’s for your protection.”

She ignored the twisting feeling in her stomach and the fact he’d basically insulted her. “Are you going to give me a better sword?”

He snorted. “Your sword is fine, and there’s no sense in getting you a better weapon until you can manage the one you currently have.”

She narrowed her eyes as the second insult registered. “What is it then?”

“How about I loan it to you?” His shoulders tensed, and he widened his stance as if anticipating an attack.

This was by far the weirdest conversation she’d ever had. For a moment she wondered if she was hallucinating again, but the bitterness on her tongue was far too strong to be imagined. “That’s fine. If you don’t want me to keep this . . . gift, I won’t steal it from you. You can have it back whenever you want.”

He reached into the neck of his tunic and pulled out a thick gold chain. Pinpoint rubies studded the gold links. He unclasped the chain, pulled apart a dainty gold necklace looped with the one he wore, and extended the pendant and chain to her.

He’d been wearing it. She stared at his hand, mulling over the fact that this necklace was so precious to him that he’d been wearing it. Her heart flipped again, and she reminded her excitable core he’d made it clear he wasn’t romantically interested in her.

“What is it?” she asked, taking the necklace from him. She flipped the warm pendant and ran her finger over the stunning gem-encrusted display. Black-and-blue stones painted the background in the colors of night. An intricate red rose topped a single green stem; one petal suspended in the darkness. The chain was so thin as to almost be invisible, but the jeweled oval spanned at least three inches in length. Without taking her gaze from the mesmerizing piece, she asked, “Where ever did you come across this? It’s beautiful.”

“May I tell you about it?” he asked in a husky voice.

She nodded. Dragging her gaze to her guard, she saw his coiled emotion pulse in his corded neck as he fastened his necklace back on.

He cleared his throat and pointed at the priceless ornament. “The black stones are obsidian, meant to bolster your strength both in mind and body. It is also known to protect from misfortune. The blue is kyanite; it protects from manipulation, deception, and self-doubt.” He gave her a meaningful look before continuing. “The green is peridot. It helps prevent others from draining your energy.”

He was giving her a talisman of protection. “And the red?” she asked. “Is it garnet?”

He smiled, and his eyes brightened. “Garnet is for faith, love, and emotional balance. And while you might benefit from the last of those three, I’m not sure you need help with the first two.”

Adaline’s heart flipped again, and she reminded herself that one unintended compliment did not outweigh the two previous insults. But if the red stone wasn’t garnet, that left only . . . “It’s ruby?”

Evzan nodded. “Rubies are known for bolstering energy and vitality, which”—he pointed at the bed—“wouldn’t hurt you any. They are also known to stimulate your mind to be more self-assured.”

She swallowed back the hurt that came from hearing someone else speak the truth.

“One day you will see yourself as the world sees you, Highness.”

She snorted and dropped the pendant onto the bedcover. “As a bumbling, ill-spoken fool?”

“No,” he said emphatically. He scooped up the pendant, and before she could protest his closeness, he’d fastened it around her neck. He stepped away from the bed again, his features now unreadable in the shadows. But his voice was filled with conviction as he said, “As an insightful, generous, and tough woman who hides her heart behind abruptness. And one day, My Queen, they will all bow to you.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and her eyes swam with emotion at his compliments. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For the necklace and your kindness, Evzan. Also, I think I understand why you stopped me from going into Beloch now. And I’m sorry for holding it against you, but don’t you see, for us not to defeat the tsar, means his power will only grow.”

After hesitating for a moment, he bowed. “You must do what you must. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to the queen regent. I expect you’ll be well enough to resume your training tomorrow morning.”

She nodded, but he’d already turned to leave and was almost to the door when she called out, “I’ll be there if I can.”

He opened the door and then faced her. “There is no more if I can. You can, Princess, so you need to do. Understand?”

She rolled her eyes and blushed. Evzan was the same. Whatever romantic notions she’d imagined by him being in her room he dashed with his impatient tone.

“Yes,” she said, drawing out the s in her frustration. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”