Chapter 1
Warrior Training Grounds, Realm of Calderre
Itwasalwaysthecolors that Celina remembered most.Deep brown eyes that matched the soil after a heavy rain. Brilliant amethyst stones on a silver dagger. Shards of moonlight reflecting on crimson-streaked water.
Not the ache of standing over someone for hours or the scent of blood. Not the sound of strangled breathing. Ever since the first time, when she’d knelt alone through the night with new healing magic pulsing through her, it was the colors that haunted her dreams.
The vivid colors peppered her memory, highlighting moments of her life. Some insignificant, some devastating, some joyful. But always vibrant hues. She often wondered if it was a side effect of using magic so young that caused the anomaly.
Regardless, the searing colors stayed with her long after a healing. Today, her patient had blue eyes, her magic enhancing them to the brightest blue of the sky streaked with sun-flared gold.
Twigs and rocks pressed into her bare legs as she shifted forward over her patient on the training field, her knees making deeper grooves in the dirt beside his shoulder. Cold wind bit at her face and tugged at her light clothing as she moved, trying to steal her focus. If not for the warmth of magic flowing through her and into her patient, she might have iced over completely in the winter air.
“Hold him just a bit longer, Celina. I’m almost done,” Healer Althea said as she began the final set of stitches on the patient’s chest.
Celina flexed her frozen, aching fingers against the boy’s neck without breaking contact. Her shimmering gold magic pulsed around the white of the warrior’s soul, holding his lifeforce steady. He was getting stronger by the minute, now that his major injury was sewn closed, but she’d learned the hard way not to let go too early. His blue eyes had been drenched in pain and fear when they’d arrived to treat him. Arm sliced nearly to the bone, his life had been seeping out to soak the ground in streaks of deep crimson.
Strengthening the connection, she poured a little more into him until the other healer finished with the superficial slice on his chest. Finally, Althea nodded to Celina she was finished.
Sleep, Celina commanded, sending a special strand of her magic through him to pull him into a deep, naturally healing state. “He shouldn’t wake for several hours.”
She squeezed the warrior’s hand to wish him well, even though he was already deeply asleep. He was very young, still in his initial phase of warrior training, and his fear had indicated this was likely his first major injury.
“Very good.” Healer Althea nodded and turned to instruct the injured warrior’s waiting teammates on how to move him safely to a recovery area.
The glint of dark metal caught Celina’s eye as she stood, sunlight glancing off the sword lying a few feet away, forgotten in the earlier rush to save the warrior. Light flashed through her mind, replacing the image with one from memory.
A different sword, sinking into the mud of the forest floor. Shadows of darkness cut by moonlight. Her hands shaking, numb with cold, as she tried in vain to find another drop of magic to save the fallen. The scent of pine soaked the earth, dripping from the trees ringing the clearing.
“Celina.” Althea’s voice beckoned her back to the present. “Let’s speak with the commander before you return to the keep.”
Blinking, she forced her eyes to see the present. Bright light from the morning sun seeped over the mountains, illuminating the clearing. Dew glistened on patches of grass in the early rays of light. Bursts of winter air whipped through the nearby trees, trying to steal their evergreen leaves. The smell of dirt, metal, and horses reached her despite the wind. She shivered, giving the sword one last glance.
“Of course.” She shook off the memory and moved, taking quick steps to catch up to Althea, who was already walking away.
The clang of metal as the newest warrior trainees practiced nearby tried to pull her back into her memory. Taking a deep breath, she ignored the sounds, focusing instead on the heavy crunch of Althea’s boots on the gravel path.The feeling of her stiff muscles stretching. The cold seeping into her as the warmth of her magic faded.Real, physical energy to ground her in the present. Her hair whipped around her face as they walked, having long ago escaped from the perfect knot she’d tamed it into that morning.
“You know, I love having your help in emergencies, but it would be great to have you here more. You’re a wonderful healer.” Althea leaned her head close conspiratorially. “And you don’t complain about being dragged out to the field unexpectedly.”
Ignoring the gnawing unease in her stomach at the veiled request, Celina smiled at her mentor. “You know how much I love helping people. Even without proper footwear.” She waved her slippered foot in a little flourish as she took her next step, making them both chuckle.
“If you ever decide you want to join us as a healer full time, we’d take you in a heartbeat.” Althea gripped her shoulder and gave her a serious, yet slightly amused, look.
If only it were that simple.Althea always offered, and Celina evaded the question. She truly loved using her gift to act as a healer for their people. It was what her path should have been, had her life not twisted in unexpected ways. She fought to be the healer she was always meant to be, making time for the work alongside raising her sister, running their family estate, and acting as one of the realm’s matriarchs.
Althea’s lips tipped in a bemused expression. “Are you returning to the council session?”
“Yes, although they might be finished already.” Her voice sounded overly hopeful, and she winced when Althea laughed.
“Avoiding the council in general, or something in particular?”
“You know me too well. I would dearly love to miss the discussions over the refugee program becoming independent,” Celina admitted. “It brings up too much.”
“Memories can be difficult to live with.”
Having mentored Celina since her magic first appeared, Althea was aware of her complex emotions about the refugee program. It was her mother’s legacy, and what had ultimately killed her. Celina worked with the program often in her capacity as a healer, but discussing its governance? All she heard was the resounding echo of her mother’s voice.
As one of the military leaders of the program, Davina Blackwood had been just as focused on its growth and development as that of her children. Celina had grown up listening to her mother prepare speeches for the council and argue about redrafting military protocols. The program had flourished under her leadership both in the field and in the council halls of the royal palace. The proposed change to the refugee program’s governance would be the first major change since her death.
