Astrid bit down on her tongue.
The pain was sharp.
As the metallic taste of blood awakened her senses, her eyes opened.
Queen Davina stared back at her.
Astrid had visions of what her mother used to be during the Purge. No one knew much about Davina's life before. But from the histories Astrid had studied and the stories she'd heard from those in the fortress who spoke about their queen's daring deeds, Astrid imagined her mother as a striking figure who, with no mystical skills of her own, had defeated the villains and saved the kingdom with nothing but a silver scar across her palm to show of it. And there were still glimpses of that woman within the mother who now stood before her. For one, Astrid doubted her mother had aged at all. But Astrid had long held the belief that either motherhood had never been in Queen Davina's strategically laid plans, or the death of Astrid's father in the Purge had destroyed it.
The sheets tangled around Astrid's ankles as she forced herself to sit up against her headboard. She wondered who had carried her to her bedroom, and then she remembered everything that had brought her here: the stone, the word, the power feeding from her, attacking her own magic...
"Where is Matthias?" Her voice scratched against her throat, dry and hoarse. It sounded more wild than she'd intended it.
Queen Davina watched her, crystalized eyes moving over her daughter methodically from the chair in which she sat. When she determined that all of Astrid's most important body parts were still intact, she said, "You have grown close to him." Her mother cocked her neck, red lips tilting. "Your care for him caused you to lose control."
Astrid ruffled, indignant.
"Or perhaps it was your carelessness." The queen reached out a pale hand and ran her longest finger along the circumference of Astrid's copper cuff. "This was designed not only for your protection, daughter. Unchecked power leads to chaos."
Astrid remembered the first time Serah and Zev had presented it to her. She'd been no older than four when her mother had explained that the cuff would protect others from the selfish, cursed elements that called out to her, which, if left unchecked, could devour the souls of those she loved.
Not something she imagined all toddlers were taught.
Astrid scowled at her hands. "Control leads to power. Power without control is chaos. Control must always come first," she recited. "I know this, but it was not my magic. The Scribes—"
"They are without power; thus they have neither control nor chaos. They can influence nothing."
Queen Davina stood from her perch, smoothing out the creases in the bodice of her gown with the same systematic care that Astrid used when polishing her blades. Her mother's disapproval stood out as starkly as the color of her black hair against her pale skin when she turned her attention back to her daughter. "It was yours, and only your power, that you failed to control, and chaos reigned in that tower today. Chaos cannot build a kingdom."
Arguments crawled up her throat, but Astrid nodded tersely instead, fisting her fingers into the sheets beneath her. "Yes, mother."
"You felt it, did you not?"
Astrid's spine straightened. "I felt another's elemental thread," she said. Her mother's eyes flashed for she hadn't truly answered the question. "Yes."
"Find it. Find him."
It wasn't until the Pretentious Ice Queen swept from the room that Astrid allowed her pent-up arguments to explode from her mouth in a muffled, frustrated scream. Whatever had happened up in that tower, she knew it hadn't been because of her own magic. After all, she and her magic were intimately intertwined. She knew the scent of her magic, the taste of it, the way it felt when it dove into her bloodstream and caressed her spine. To claim Astrid's elemental threads had attacked themselves was like insisting she'd strangled herself with her own veins.
No. Something had attacked her. Called to her.
Someone.
The rumored Author child.
She threw her legs over the side of her mattress and was relieved when her knees didn't shake under her weight.
Find him, she would.
O O O
"Do you think I care for you?"
Matthias twisted his neck towards Astrid but otherwise remained motionless at his post outside her bedroom door. It was strange, the sense of relief Astrid had felt upon opening her door to find Matthias on guard outside her personal rooms. His cheeks held little color, but he was standing, at least. There wasn't even a scar on his temple, though there was a rusted stain of blood on his collar.
Astrid leaned against the doorway opposite him. "We are friends, at least, wouldn't you say?"
He scoffed. "What do you want?"
Astrid rubbed the cuff absentmindedly. "Come with me out of the fortress. Tonight."
Matthias narrowed his gaze. "Even if we were so romantically inclined, my answer would still be no."
Clearly, he hadn't yet gotten over the blowing-up-of-the-book-cart incident. "Always so stubborn. I suppose this would be the time to remind you that you do owe me."
He grunted. "You threw a rock at my head."
"Yes, by accident, but I healed you."
His brown eyes flickered to her and the cuff before turning back to the dank, cold hallway, but Astrid still saw the lines of weariness underneath them. Her spirits lifted slightly when she thought his worry had been for her benefit until he said, "My body would have healed itself naturally without your assistance."
She grumbled at him and pushed off the wall. When she was close enough, she tapped her thumb against the unmarred spot of his head where the stone had struck. "Oh, how the respect for the Crown has fallen these days."
He refused to flinch even as she slid her hand down his cheek to his stubbled jaw and then back to her side. Time for another tactic. "I will go without you. However, I would hate to see the queen's reaction if she were to find out you let me escape, her precious only daughter, without a guard beyond the fortress walls. How would that reflect on you and your men? What a shame."
The tiniest of frowns threatened the corners of his lips. Astrid smirked when Matthias's frown deepened as if he had read her thoughts.
"Pain in the arse."
Astrid smiled as sweetly as she could manage with her thin lipped mouth and non-dimpled cheeks. "What was that, Captain?"
He ignored her but looked pointedly at her inner elbow. "The cuff stays on."
She pushed the sleeves of her heavy cloak back above her elbow and exposed the extinguishing cuff to him. It had only been back for a few hours, but already Astrid could feel the pressure of its smothering behind her eyelids. The subtle pain in her head wasn't completely unwelcome, though; she could still taste the fear of that foreign power feeding from her. Her stomach nauseated at the thought.
"For once, we are in complete agreement, Captain Soirée."
Masking her exhaustion, she draped her thickly furred hood over her head and snapped her fingers in a brusque manner she knew he'd find particularly vexing. She grinned in the shadows of her hood. "Shall we go, then? I have quite the story to tell you, and my Icicles switch gate duty in ten minutes."
"Insubordinate little twits," Matthias said under his breath.
"Yes, well, those twits are going to be so kind as to look the other way during our grand escape. I do have some friends, it seems."
It was laughable how anti-climatic it was for Astrid and Matthias to approach the fortress walls without sounding a single alarm. In fact, if Astrid hadn't earned the respect of her Icicles—and, by extension, their secrecy—she would have been embarrassed to call herself their superior. Beside her, Matthias's jaw clamped in disapproval as Melvin, the youngest of Astrid's Icicles, caught sight of Astrid. With a subtle salute, Melvin turned his back completely and moved a foot to the left, revealing the small hatch built into the mountain wall. Instead of going through the wall, the hatch led to a tunnel that went underneath it.
"I suppose I should also tell you that my mother sanctioned this particular escape."
Matthias cursed her.
Find him, her mother had ordered, and Astrid had never been the type to dawdle.
Astrid ignored Melvin as thoroughly as he tried to ignore the sneaking princess and her accomplice whom Melvin believed was shirking royal duties. Although, to be fair, Melvin hardly knew he was allowing his heir apparent to sneak out. For all he knew, Astrid was simply another guard looking for a wild night beyond the fortress gates. Regardless, Melvin simply hummed a shaky pub tune under his breath. Astrid grinned to herself. The young sentinel was twitchy, but Astrid supposed risking a flogging was an adequate reason enough to be nervous. Securing her hood around her face, Astrid opened the hatch before Melvin went into cardiac arrest and pushed Matthias ahead of her into the narrow tunnel.
The tunnel always smelled of rotted fish scales.
Astrid pulled a solar flare from her cloak. When she pulled the door shut, darkness encased them. Matthias's breaths turned shallow. Smirking, she shook the flare and felt it warm in her hand as the mixture activated. The tube lit up in a blinding blaze, casting shadows across Matthias's tight face as he scowled at her.
"What?" she asked, squeezing past him to retake the lead. The tunnel was so narrow, her shoulder ran along the length of his chest. "It's not as if there are any carts down here for me to villainize. Calm down, 'Thias."
His hand moved to the sword's hilt at his hip.
Astrid, who had worked on carving these tunnels below the fortress for years, did not anticipate seeing anyone else, but Matthias remained alert.
"So, I think the Scribes tried to steal my magic."
Though she had kept her tone conversationally polite, she still expected a gasp from Matthias. Maybe a stunned silence, at the least.
Always one to disappoint, he spat on the ground. "Never trust a Scribe."
When she glanced back at him over her shoulder, handsome face marred by a scowl, his finger pressed against his temple. Astrid turned back to the tunnel and slushed through a puddle. "But why? If the histories are to be believed, Scribes only documented magic they discovered during their travels. They couldn't use it. Not without an Author's help to bring it to life from their pages."
Matthias's breaths warmed the back of her neck as he prodded her in the shoulder as the tunnel veered to the right. She supposed it made him feel useful even though he knew that she understood these tunnels better than he did.
"They had one though," he countered. "You."
Astrid's stomach swooped, but she refused to comment. Instead, she said, "My mother doesn't believe the Scribes are capable any longer. Do you think that's a bit naive?"
Matthias hesitated. He picked his words carefully so as to not be misconstrued as treason. "I think you are not naive enough to discredit the queen, which I'm assuming is the reason you've coerced me into these revolting tunnels."
She supposed he was right, but she frowned anyway. Like mother, like daughter. A shiver crawled down her spine. Logically, it couldn't have been the Scribes. They had no ink, no quill, no books to write her magic into, and, besides, they were mere prisoners. Worse than prisoners. They can influence nothing. She knew that, and yet, to believe it had been another, the missing son of the last remaining Soleitian author that only Davina knew the potential existence of because she had tortured it out of Zev all those years ago--now this rumored child chose to make his appearance. After all this time.
He must be quite slow.
"Do you think it's him?" Astrid asked the damp walls on either side of her. "The forgotten son?"
Matthias stilled. "You believe he exists?"
Astrid tried to act nonchalant. "Someone attacked my magic. It attacked you."
She refused to look at him, her neck already flushing beneath her hood at her admission. The last thing she wanted was for Matthias to see how much she truly valued him. Weakness, a voice drawled in her mind. Vulnerable. It sounded like her mother. Her shoulders hunched around her ears as she trudged onwards, the slope of the tunnel now descending towards the thatch-roofed villages that lay below the peak of Halorium.
Still, she could sense Matthias behind her, could feel the way his observant gaze assessed her with the same critical look he used when she trained with him. "Is that why we're down here?" he asked and then sighed. "You have a plan. You must. Otherwise, this wild vigilante idea of yours was for nought. I refuse to believe you've become that reckless."
Warmth spread outwards from her chest, and a slight grin flickered across her face. "Don't go soft on me now, Captain Soiree," she teased.
Besides, she did have a plan. Albeit, a rather thoughtless one on her part. Thoughtless in the way that it really hadn't required much thought of her own. It had bred more from her mother. Perhaps this plan was more of a bare outline that was structured around pure chance of luck. One that she and Davina had been anticipating for years. It relied on Astrid's elemental threads, on her connection to it and others of her kind, and the feeling of her cuff as it would tighten and press her magic down when aroused—
Astrid almost tripped on an uneven crack in the tunnel floor. Her heart leapt as she stopped abruptly. Matthias collided into her spine, catching himself with one hand on her shoulder, the other on the slick rock wall. He cursed at her, but she paid him little attention because the copper cuff above her elbow burned. It pulsed against her skin as her stomach knotted, the power sleeping among her intestines writhing suddenly against its confinements.
Face shining with confidence, she looked up at Matthias, blue eyes bright against her fair skin. "Find some pep, 'Thias. We're nearly there."
O O O
The cuff led them from the tunnels. Astrid's focus was so intent upon the pulses of it and the thrashing of her magic against her ribs, that she stopped, disoriented, as frigid, fresh air swept across her cheeks. A snowflake fell on the tip of her pointed nose. She retreated further into her hood. The small village slept around her; it was best if she went unseen.
Matthias, being a mere guard not of royal breed—let alone a princess who was meant to exist in secrecy—needed no such disguise. The overconfident fool hadn't even worn his helmet. Again. She made a mental note to keep an eye open for any projectile objects when her brain jolted.
She hissed against the pain, holding a fist to her twisting stomach as her entire body lurched towards the cobbled road.
"Your Highness?" Matthias asked, reverting to her proper court title as he often did when he was concerned about her.
"He's here," she said. "It's trying to latch onto me."
Matthias's eyes narrowed, scanning their surroundings for a tangible threat. Astrid snorted and then grimaced. Despite the pain, she felt infinitely relieved. To be honest, she hadn't truly known if she would be able to seek out the threat while her cuff doused her magic. She'd gambled, and with a surprise she'd never admit to Matthias, it had worked. The hidden threat pulled at her again, digging into her navel and sending her heart into a wild leap.
Apparently, the cuff only protected her from her own magic. It cared little for protecting her from an attack by someone else.
The two ancient forces clashed. She gasped, her brain reeling in far too many directions. It came from everywhere. She felt Matthias's fingers wrap around her elbow as she slumped, her breaths coming too fast. Too far apart.
"Say it," he snapped, giving her elbow a rough shake. "That word from the tower. Use it. Now."
Astrid's cuff felt like a circle of flames against her skin, but she gasped. "Voíxili."
The effect was immediate.
She felt almost light-headed as she felt the pressure from her cuff give way.
Matthias gripped her arm tighter. "Good, gods."
An unnatural breeze swept between them, pushing back Astrid's fur-lined hood. Dead leaves and pine needles got caught up in it. The wind moved, twirling its prizes into a wild vortex of detritus. Her cuff screamed, clamping against the surge of powers that rose up to meet the wind. Astrid fell against Matthias's side. It was too much. She couldn't—
The wind stilled. All the leaves, needles, and plant waste fell from the wind's grasp back to the ground.
Except the debris didn't fall.
As if the wind had grown nimble fingers, it picked out each piece and placed them all into a twisted, but obvious, path along the cobbled road.
Matthias hoisted Astrid upright. "We're following that, aren't we?"
Astrid didn't bother to answer. She stumbled off down the leafy trail and felt Matthias scattering the evidence of her magic with his boots behind them.
O O O
Sebastian left Lambert with an even stronger feeling of desperation then when he'd set out earlier that day. It didn't improve matters when he stepped out of Tuddle & Totts' doorway and a quiet evening greeted him. His fear magnified so quickly that he placed a hand against the wooden beams of the door to steady his dizzying mind. By the Scribes! Abel had been alone for hours, and what if she—she was so sick—she could be dea—
"Stop," he told himself firmly. "Take a step. Another." One more. Breathe.
So, he did. He had just stepped off the short step off Tuddle and Totts stoop and onto the cobbled street when a sudden gust of wind swept apart the unfastened sides of his traveler's cloak. Sebastian shivered, shaking his wayward black curls out of his eyes and pulling the edges of his cloak more firmly around his torso. Perhaps this journey of his was more trouble than it was worth.
But he did have an invitation to the Halorian Library tomorrow morning, as long as Abel—
Guilt settled heavily against his chest. He had set out to get into the Halorian Library. Done. But it hadn't been in his plans for Abel to fall so ill. Blasted, freezing cold mountain. He should have pushed Lambert more, demanded more answers, but he hadn't. He'd failed her.
Anger built inside of him so quickly that he stumbled. He wasn't even sure with whom he was angry. Certainly himself. Maybe he was even mad at magic. Or the idea of magic, at least. Because magic was just that: an idea. Perhaps if it was something tangible, it could save Abel.
With a frustrated grunt, he kicked out at a loose pebble, but it stuck in the snow and didn't go far. It was annoyingly unsatisfying.
So, he went after it, and kicked at it again.
And again.
He was breathing heavily, practically panting, the little beaten pebble buried deeply in a mound of snow, when he realized he was no longer on the cobbled road. Sebastian spun around. He stood in the midst of a circle of snow-covered trees, a dilapidated shed to his left.
A crazed bout of laughter erupted from his throat. Abel would die from laughing that he'd gotten himself lost chasing a rock--Abel.
The reminder sent a shock down his spine, his heart rate kicking into overdrive. He had to get back. He must. If he didn't—Sebastian's shoulders slumped against the powerlessness that threatened to swamp him. He shook his head and gritted his teeth just as another gust swept through the trees and dumped an armful of snow on top of his head.
His frustration exploded. He swore it took the form of a word: voixili. The growl tore from deep within his chest, popping the synapses of his brain's nerves so thoroughly that he swore he blacked out for a second right before he stumbled backwards into the snowy embankment.
- - -
Ohhh, are Astrid and Bash about to meet for the first time?? Keep reading to find out!