As the oldest of seven siblings, Safiya had spent more time raising her brothers and sisters than she had defining her own path in life. When she had heard of the Acsillan king’s summons to mágik users around the world, Safiya had not hesitated to volunteer herself. Shehad not hesitated to travel across the sea to Szrestia, the country that had destroyed her life and crushed her heart.
A name echoed through her mind, gripped at her chest, plaguing my own stuttering heart.Alora.
There was pain there, the aching grief of loss, and it was enough to tear me free. I gasped, rubbing my temples against the pain, but I was only granted a moment of reprieve before the waves sucked me back under with crushing force.
Safiya passed the council chamber on silent feet, remembering the first time she had laid eyes on the ornate door. Though years had since passed, the memory was burned on the backs of her eyes. It had been the beginning of her ruination.
She left her entire life behind, riding on the great ambition to make the world a better place. She had chosen this path for herself. It was the first thing she hadeverchosen for herself, and in one indifferent moment, the king and the council dismissed her. They did not need another earth wielder, they said, and her dream evaporated into smoke.
The council chamber shuttered open, and Safiya was back in the present. She melted into the shadows, heart pounding, but it was too late. She had already been seen.
I wrenched myself free of her, swallowing saliva and bile as I tried not to retch. Her memories, her knowledge, her anger still leaked through the tether between us.
Hesperia Farkas peered at her, squinting her eyes against the dim light. The earth councilwoman paused, face lighting in recognition.
“Safiya Keres,” she said in her low, smoky voice. “Whatever are you doing creeping about the council chamber?”
“Only reliving a nightmare,” Safiya muttered, too low for the other woman to hear. Louder, she said, “What business is it of yours, Councilwoman? Is it your right to question the staff of the crown?”
Hesperia laughed, soft and drawn out. “When said staff might be listening in on classified information? Certainly. Careful, spymaster, we all have our roles to play. It’d be a shame if yours was cut short.”
Safiya narrowed her eyes. Her fingers traced the shape of her blade under the hem of her cloak. I reached for my own sword, but my hands met empty air.
“That won’t be necessary.” Hesperia smiled, the picture of diplomatic perfection. She raised one hand, resting it gently along the swell of Safiya’s cheek. “Ayla needs you, dear girl. She needs you now more than ever. Don’t let her down.”
And then she was gone, a ghost retreating into the unknown.
Don’t let her down.
The words taunted Safiya, ringing in her ears and pulling her back down under the weight of her grief. She could not let Ayla down, not as she had Alora. She would not make that mistake twice.
I clenched my jaw hard, squeezing my eyes shut against Safiya’s thoughts, mingling with my own. Safiya gasped against the pain of it—I choked on it—the jagged-edged knife of memory.
Ayla’s door rose before us, silent and stoic, the present overlapping with the past.
Vibrations rumbled into the earth around us, spilling from Safiya’s shaking palms. She fought to pull them back inside, to trap the darkness where it lay, but it pushed forth against her will.
“Ayla…” Safiya whispered, a plea in her aching throat. The door shuddered and quaked as her voice traveled to the bedroom within, but she was still trapped within her own mind, and I was right there with her. I felt the anger and resentment for the king, the prince, and the entirety of this country building inside her.
She burned for something, in the deep darkness within.
Revenge.
She would not rest until she had burned it all to the ground.
The door swung open—the sweetest mercy, the largest pitfall.
“Are you alright?” Ayla asked, concern swimming through the depths of her golden-brown eyes. She drew Safiya’s hands between her own, their warmth so strong I swore I felt it on my fingers—lingering on my palms.
“Not even a little,” Safiya breathed, but even as she said it, the darkness retreated. Ayla chased it away with her golden light.
I tore free, leaning heavily on the door frame. I pleaded with my shaking knees to settle.
Ayla pulled Safiya to the bed and curled their bodies together, rubbing soothing circles on her back. Safiya’s emotions still buried themselves directly into my middle. The ache of guilt gnawed at her gut—to lie here with Ayla, the plan to take revenge against her father spinning through her head. She knew that if she was not careful, the machinations of her plans would crumble to dust around her. Safiya feared she would throw it all away for the daughter of her greatest enemy.
I pulled away with a final gasp, wrenching the door back open as I turned to flee, but it did not shatter the dream. It only sent me sprawling into the next scene.
Soft morning light blanketed Ayla as she strode down the hall. She wrung her hands together and worried at her lip, drawing me closer with every swipe of her teeth over plump flesh.
