“Really? Was there magic?” I couldn’t contain the excitement in my tone at the fact he was giving me something.
“Is there not magic now?” His expression portrayed his confusion at my question.
“There hasn’t been magic for centuries. What you did with the … the army, was the first I’ve seen.”
Shade’s light-gray gaze remained locked on mine, and I squirmed under the assessment, grateful the blankets hid the movement.
Then Shade spoke. “Magic is everywhere. In the earth beneath our feet. In the water we drink. In the very air we breathe. Everything is energy. Before—when I last walked this land, some family lines had the ability to manipulate this energy. The genelatent, save for those who truly wanted it.” He placed the book back down and moved to the armchair. He sat heavily—as if under the weight of his next words, he couldn’t stand. “Those people could harness the energy. Mold it into something more. Something powerful. That,Adelia, is magic.”
He hadn’t said my name before now, and the way his tongue caressed the sound settled low, to the spot constantly heated when in his presence. My next squirm moved the blankets, and gray turned silver. His eyes locked onto where my legs were pressed together. As if he could see the dampness gathering underneath the navy sheets.
“And now?” The breathy way I spoke revealed just how much he affected me.
His eyes darkened when they met mine, the tingling on my cheeks alerting me to the blush spreading along them. “If there is no longer magic in these lands, then people simply lost the drive to obtain it.”
His words settled and cooled the building heat. All our stories—our histories—claimed magic was gifted by the Gods. The revelation they were wrong was a wonder and absolutely terrifying. Anyone could access this energy and manipulate it to create magic. The thought of someone like Beatus or even Orcan learning how to do so sent a quiver down my spine. “Anyone can learn it?”
Shade leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees and studying me, his head tilted. “Were they descendants of the original familial lines, then theoretically—yes.”
Another danger, another threat to Eleanor. Gods, would it never end? Panic clawed at me, trying to gain a foothold. I shot it down, aided by the suddenly potent scent of purloe flowers. I flashed a small smile Shade’s way. Whether he knew the effect the scent had on me, I didn’t care, I was grateful all the same.
“Don’t tell anyone else.” I intended the words to be an order, but they left my mouth as a plea. Our misleading histories gave us an advantage for now. I didn’t know how I would use the knowledge, but I couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands and be used against us. Couldn’t let others learn how to harness the energy and bring magic back to our lands. Not yet.
Shade didn’t reply, though his gaze dulled when I finally left the comfort of my bed to get ready for the day. I prayed to all four Gods he would listen regardless.
Another secret. Another burden. Something else to hide from my sister.
I would weather it. That was my duty, and I’d rather die than fail.
The next few days passed with no new revelations from Shade. Though, he slowly started talking more. It seemed the story about magic loosened his tongue, and he now engaged in my conversations, even some with Eleanor. To everyone else though, he remained cold. Aloof. A silent guard at my back as the king tried to find a way around the issue with his new army and the need for me to command them.
Each night was spent under Shade’s watchful gaze. Sometimes, he would tell old tales from his childhood—dark stories of ancient magic and mystical beings, each one giving me a little more insight into who he was.
Kind. Loyal. Just.
My days were spent around Terym’s large table surrounded by arguing men. They were tediously boring, and most of my time was spent daydreaming or worrying about Eleanor, who had spent an increasing amount of time with Harkin. The youngest lord had escaped the need to attend the meetings. No one seemed too concerned about his absence. I suspected it due to the fact he just took his position and was untried.Lucky bastard.
Harkin took Eleanor on many adventures through Ferveem Forest to see other ruins, hidden coves, and even a small waterfall—Eleanor had gushed that day over how romantic the spot had been—as well as several more trips to the closest village.
Sweat trickled down my neck as I sat in one of those meetings. Even though fall had well and truly arrived, sun beat onto the navy canvas, creating a stifling heat within. Terym had grown increasingly agitated as the days wore on, and he hurled insults and accusations down the table. We tried several ideas, though none had been entirely successful. The sentient army accepted orders from others if they witnessed me giving those orders first, but if given out of sight, they didn’t respond.
The king’s impatience mounted, and he slammed frustrated hands onto the table. The sound echoed, halting all conversation. “Enough!”
Up to this point, I hadn’t paid much attention, lost in my own mind. Something had sent Terym over the edge today. This morning, Wista mentioned unrest was growing in Torglea’s capital, Prallues. With the king gone for months on his quest for Shade and the power he could offer, his people were agitated.
“Perhaps if the girl wrote a letter …” Lord Kheal began, his frail voice portraying his exhaustion. Long days in a hot tent had worn on him, and he appeared particularly weak today as he swayed slightly in his chair.
“A letter?” Beatus scoffed and rolled his eyes. A move he often made when Kheal spoke. I overheard Beatus talking to Orcan about the lord of the Central Territory days ago. Apparently, he didn’t have an heir, so when he died, the king could decide what would happen with his lands and title. Beatus was hoping he would simply split the land between himself and Orcan.
“He could be onto something,” Zyome said, his eyes exhibiting some clarity today. The porter had only replaced his wine goblettwice so far; normally, he would be at the bottom of his second bottle by now. “What if she wrote her instructions down and Lenek read them out?”
Beatus scowled and crossed his arms. I’m surprised the men who ran this kingdom could achieve anything, given they behaved like children most of the time.
“I agree,” Terym said, snapping his fingers at the young porter closest to him. “The rest of you don’t have any other useful ideas.”
The porter scurried toward me, almost falling into my lap in his haste to place the paper and quill on the table. The constant floral and woodsy scent intensified, and I swear a slight rumble came from Shade, who stood directly behind my chair, just as he had every other day we were here. When I glanced up at him, his attention was on the retreating boy’s back, face as blank as ever. He never expressed anything other than cool blankness around these men.
“Write the letter, girl,” Orcan snarled, often quiet during these meetings except to scold or condescend me. I ground my teeth, ignoring him. He clearly resented my presence, whether it be my station or my gender, who knew.
