Wondering if it’s possible for my heart to beat so fast that it kills me before the king has a chance.
“Bring it over,” the king orders. Four guards enter from a side door, carrying a sturdy wooden table. A carved wooden box sits in its exact center, and the soldiers’ faces strain with the effort of keeping the surface perfectly balanced. When one side of the table dips slightly and the box slides a bit toward one guard, the man’s face is a study in terror.
They quickly right the balance, though, and oh-so-carefully place the table on the marble floor in the center of the room, a good five paces from the king. Then, bowing and almost shaking with relief, the four of them withdraw to stand with their fellow guards.
The Air Touched, her hands clasped before her so tightly herknuckles are white, resolutely walks over to stand next to the box. She stares at it for a long moment, glances at me, then turns to the king.
“This was my idea, so I bear responsibility and witness,” she says in a clear voice that carries through the room. The whispers and clinking noises stop.
“First, a story we all know, but must hear anew to begin this quest. A little less than a century ago, Corvynne, the goddess of war and death, defeated her sister, Artemisen, the goddess of nature and balance, in hand-to-hand combat. The skies rang with their battle for seven days and six nights, and on the seventh and final night, Artemisen fell.”
“May she be restored,” I murmur, as do many others.
“From that day until this one, the goddess of war has kept her sister imprisoned in a crystal tomb, beginning Altarra’s slow, inexorable descent into darkness. One of Artemisen’s Sylvan warriors gave his life to escape with an amulet—the key that will unlock the tomb—and this key ultimately came to Pyrrh.”
The Air Touched pauses, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath before she continues. “Since then, nature’s balance has skewed more and more every year. The seedlings for crucial crops are withering in the ground. The snowfall has lessened year by year, causing drought, and we don’t know if it will snow at all this winter. As everyone knows, the stars themselves have disappeared from the night sky.”
Murmurs begin around the room. We all know this, but it’s somehow more terrifying to hear it set forth so plainly.
“The Oracles have told us, over and over and over, that nobody can defeat Corvynne. That nobody can touch the amulet, even though we know it will unlock the prison.”
“But you think you know better, despite the rest of your Guild’s disagreement,” the king interrupts, his voice harsh yet sardonic.
“I pray I knowdifferent,” she gently corrects him. “I’ve spent the past eight years of my life studying every historical scroll I could get my hands on. Every recorded word the Oracles have ever spoken. And I’ve come to this conclusion: Many times, the Oracles—although they see and predict the future, often in mysterious ways—are entirely literal.”
She looks directly at me. “Many times, the words themselves contain exactly and entirely their meaning. They do not require analysis, or interpretation, or translation. The very words, exactly as spoken, must be taken at face value.”
“Nobody can defeat Corvynne,” I say slowly.
“Nobody can touch the amulet,” she repeats, still staring into my eyes.
“And so, you searched for nobodies.” I can barely get the words out past my numbness; I feel like I’m in shock. Bizarrely, a quick burst of laughter escapes my lips. “I’ve been a nobody since I was four years old. I guess you succeeded.”
Kaelen’s hand on my arm tightens for a moment before he releases me and gracefully drops to one knee, bowing his head. “Your Majesty, bring the criminals, by all means. You know that every person, no matter how heroic, who has touched that amulet has died. You can’t ask innocent people to do this. Please, Your Majesty.”
Earlier, his concerns were for my strength. Now he’s worried about my innocence. I wonder what will matter to him next, and if I’ll be alive to find out.
I also wonder if I’m the only one who can hear how the prince said “please” through gritted teeth, but it doesn’t matter.
The king’s expression is merciless. “Prince Kaelen, how will you lead this quest if you can’t stomach the sacrifices required to complete it?”
Kaelen says nothing, but his hands fist at his sides.
Pallan sneers. “As I thought. You will be silent, or you will be removed from the room. Guards.”
Neville makes a hand gesture, and five guards form a ring around Kaelen.
“Quiet, or we’ll put you out of the room, lad,” Neville says. With fury snapping in his violet eyes, Kaelen rises to stand, but he doesn’t speak again. I wish I could thank him for standing up for me, when nobody else has since my mother died.
But all I can do is stand here and prepare to die.
The sorcerer holds her hands over the box and looks around the room, capturing each one of us in her anguished gaze. “Without nature and balance, Corvynne’s forces will conquer all of Altarra. They’ll continue to torture and rule over everyone they don’t kill. Already, the warriors of the Dawn are no more. The Valourian capital was overthrown, and that land’s legendary giant snow leopards are extinct. The Desert of Sharnon is devolving into the ruined, sand-blasted lands known as the Degradation. Nobody has heard from the Freeholders’ Territory in years. We are truly desperate. Our children and our children’s children will grow up in chains if we do not free the goddess.”
I know reciting all this causes the sorcerer pain. I can see it on her face. But I can’t help noticing the irony of her warning when there are people in chainsright here in this room.Lil and I are unchained but still prisoners, just as surely as if we, too, wore cold iron. Armed men threaten the prince for daring to speak against this plan.
Ultimately, though, none of that matters.
Because the Air Touched touches the box.
