3
We leave Mai in the hands of the healers. I want to stay, but my Storm Command takes up so much space that I’ll hinder their efforts. There’s nothing else I can do to help. Mai gives me a nod and I’m grateful that she’ll accept help now.
I head for my quarters across the square with only ten minutes to spare before I’m supposed to meet Baelen in the War Room. There’s no way I can face him without a hot bath to calm my nerves and wash away the storm.
Elise takes one look at my face and sends one of the Storm Command ahead to prepare the bath, and another to the War Room to let Baelen know I’ll be late. I give her a grateful smile for both. It’s better that I don’t cause the House of Rath more offence than I already have today.
She leans in as we reach my quarters, her voice gentle. “Princess, once you deal with the Commander, we need to talk about what happened today.”
“Yes, thank you.” I appreciate the way she always remains calm. Sometimes it makes me wonder if there’s more to her simmering beneath the surface, but she never panics or becomes angry. As much as I hate all of the protocols, they definitely worked in my favor to give me an advisor who balances out my emotions.
Inside my room, I strip off the storm suit and hang it over its special rack in the bathing room that adjoins my bedroom. I sink into the bathtub of water, immersing myself completely, even my head. The last of the cold rainwater washes out of my hair as I try to shake the image of Mai’s raining body and the way she suspended time.
The bath is the only place I’m allowed to be alone. Elise and Jordan wait for me in my bedroom and my Storm Command lines the hall outside. My home is more of a soldier’s barracks than a home. My room is the largest and sits in the center of the square structure. There’s only one door to my room but hallways on every side. My Storm Command sleeps in rooms all around me—twenty elves rotating on and off shift in such a way that I always have ten of them with me and get to see all of them throughout each week.
Light reaches me through two skylights—one in the bathroom and one in the bedroom.
I drop the mask of control I always wear and allow myself to accept the fear rising inside me.
Becoming my own champion means defeating the smartest, fastest, most skilled male elves in Erawind—elves who’ve been training for years for the chance to take my hand.
Every elven child is taught sword skills, archery, and hand-to-hand combat from an early age, but my training stopped when I became Storm Princess. Metal and lightning don’t mix so I’m forbidden from touching weapons containing iron or steel. On top of that, nobody is allowed to touch me, so even fighting with practice weapons like wooden swords is out of my reach.
The skills I learned as a child are rusty. After seven years without practice, I know how to wield lightning much better than I know how to wield a sword or shoot an arrow.
I want to scream in frustration. My promise to Mai suddenly seems empty. I can try to fight for myself, but how can I win?
I acknowledge my fear, dispelling it from my lungs, breathing it out as I lift my head out of the water again. Every elf in my Storm Command has a skill they can teach me. I just have to find a way for them to do it.
Nobody can know my intentions until the Heartstone Ceremony in a week’s time. The most difficult part will be learning all I need to know in such a short time. Impossible. But I have to try.
I dress as quickly as I can, choosing a flowing silk dress, and pull my hair into a loose braid that drapes between my shoulder blades and reaches my waist. I don’t have time to dry it, and it drips down my back, but it serves as a reminder of Mai and her message to me. For the same reason that I don’t touch weaponry, I also don’t wear a crown or other jewelry.
Elise and Jordan pace together outside my bathing room, their heads together in quiet conversation. They look up at the same time with identical expressions of concern.
“I know,” I say. “You can’t leave my side.”
In response, Jordan spins. “Storm Command! To the War Room.”
I stride within their circle, heading east until we reach a set of buildings not too far from my quarters. The War Room is located at one end. When we reach the big oak doors that open into the room I curse my height once again. I have no idea what awaits me.
Finally the protective circle stops and opens, spanning out like a wave on either side of me. Elise stands directly to my right and Jordan to my left.
I draw to a halt. I’m ten feet away from Baelen Rath who stands alone in front of the War Table. His advisor isn’t here this time. I keep my distance, my skirt swishing around my legs as I pause.
He catches me in his gaze, takes a step forward, but stops. For some reason he looks thrown, surprised, but then a blank mask drops over his expression. The only indication that anything’s wrong is that his jaw ticks at the side and a small crease appears between his eyes as he appraises me.
He’s dressed in light armor and looks right at home in this room dedicated to war strategy. I, on the other hand, had been so deep in thought about how to overcome my rusty battle skills that I hadn’t paid much attention to how I looked. I’m badly underdressed.
I lift my head high, overly conscious of my damp braid. “Commander Rath, please report.”
His voice is a low growl. “The gargoyles are on the move.”
It’s the last thing I expected him to say. Shock ripples through every member of my Storm Command. The gargoyles haven’t made a move in hundreds of years.
All my other worries disappear in an instant. Nothing is more important than defending Erawind against another attack.
I stride toward the War Table and circle behind it. Its top is carved into an elaborate map of our country, Erawind, and the gargoyle’s country, Erador. “Show me.”
