Blue Sun

Chapter 3 - Part 1

Stale water sloshed around her feet as Tesni walked toward the Wilde boy's cell in the darkest corridor of the gaol. She had no escort—that was part of the bargain, after all—and despite their enmity, she found herself wishing that Gareth was here beside her. With only the fire of her torch to light her path, menacing shadows seemed to leap out at her from every nook and cranny. Tesni, who was afraid of nothing, was scared.

She didn't believe in monsters lurking in the dark or twisted magic spells waiting to spring their traps. She was a Northern girl through and through, and the only things she feared were human. The Wilde boy waited for her in his prison, and he had reason to hate her. She'd seen the look in his fathomless blue eyes when her father's guards had dragged him back to the gaol. She shivered at the memory.

The Wilde boy's back was turned to her when she arrived at his cell. He had to know she was there; there was no way he could have missed the splash of her feet or ignore the sudden brightness of her torchlight. She waited for him to acknowledge her.

And waited.

When she could take the waiting no longer, she coughed—loudly—into her free hand. He couldn't ignore her forever. They had struck a deal.

"The General's daughter returns," the Wilde boy said, his back still turned to her. She winced at the venom in his voice.

"Will you face me?" she asked. "I don't wish to have a conversation with your back."

"And I don't wish to look upon a durzu."

"You know I don't know what that means."

The Wilde boy let out a humorless short laugh. "But you can figure it out, clever Northern girl. It is what you are, to your bones. What all of you are." He hissed between his teeth. "Breaker of trust. Betrayer."

"I saved you," she reminded him. "You and your friend."

At last, the boy whirled around, his face a mask of rage. "You saved us? You are the reason Emre is dead!"

Confusion filled her. "Who is Emre?"

The Wilde boy shook his head at her in disgust. Pitching his voice girlishly high, he said, "There is a dead man, Father. I want to go home."

Her words, repeated back to her. How insensitive they must have sounded. Tesni swallowed. "That man was Emre?"

His upper lip curled into a sneer. "Yes, you stupid girl. Emre was my friend, too. And now he's dead because you couldn't keep your tongue from wagging."

A tidal wave of guilt washed over her. Was she truly responsible for a man's death? Sure, he had been a Wilde, but he had also been someone's friend. "You don't understand," she whispered. "The General is my father. You would have done no different if you were me."

The Wilde boy grasped the bars of his cell with both hands. "I understand far better than you think. And I am no durzu. I would not betray a man to please my father."

 "But you're a..." She trailed off.

His blue eyes flashed. "Say it. I'm a what?"

She met his gaze, steeling herself not to flinch. "You are Wilde." He didn't blink. Softly, she added, "You're the enemy."

"Am I?" he asked. "Are you and I so different, Northern girl?" He thrust his arm between the narrow cell bars, his palm turned upward. "Fire burns beneath your skin, same as mine."

Tesni stared at the tanned, callused hand. It was an ordinary hand, darkened by the light of the sun. Whether it had been her sun or his that had colored him brown she had no way of knowing.

His palm closed into a fist and then dropped to his side. "Tell me this, Northern girl. Does your father know what you are?"

"What I am is his daughter," she shot back.

The Wilde boy gave her a pitying look. "You are yangin shah."

She was growing tired of his playing on her ignorance. "We've established I don't speak Wildish."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "You are yangin shah. I am yangin shah. There is no direct translation, but roughly it means Master of Fire. Under the light of the Blue Sun, fire is yours to create and control."

"But I don't need the Blue Sun," she said quietly.

Some of the anger drained from his face. "No, you do not. I still don't understand it. But in the eyes of the Wilde, you remain yangin shah. One of us." He leaned forward until his face pressed between the cell bars. "So I'll ask you again. Does your father know what you are?"

She shook her head. She couldn't tell the General. Her father loved her more than he loved anyone—she believed that, she did—but he loved his country more. She didn't doubt who he'd pick if he had to choose between the two of them. Oldfallian law forbade magic of any kind. And here she was, living, breathing magic.

"I see," he murmured. "You are afraid to tell him, and yet I am the enemy."

She felt her cheeks fuse with color. "I'm not afraid," she lied. "Not of my father, and not of you."

"Then perhaps it is yourself you are afraid of. Because if my Wilde blood makes me Oldfall's enemy, what does the magic in your blood make you?"

A/N: Sorry this took so long, and that it's so short! I'm trying to balance writing this while working on Paladin rewrites (which is what I'm spending most of my writing time on, FYI...trying to get out the final version in the next few months...expect a status update on that soon). Let me know what you think of this short bit in the comments. More to come soon!