I spot the boy at the top of the staircase, peering down at me.Then he dodges to the left. “Ah no!” I spring forward, taking two steps at a time until I reach the top. And then I’m careening onto my tiptoes as several goats strut past. A bustling town square lies before me, market day in full swing. People in colorful clothing jostle one another. Vendors shout from open stalls. Large, wide bowls of fruit and different-colored spices lie on the ground before kneeling merchants. “Watch it!” The goatherd yells roughly at me for almost colliding with his livestock. This just got harder.
“Vindati Agni Dipika,”I whisper. Tendrils of red mist unleash from my hands, searching for my own creation, for my firelight. More than intuition forces my head to the left. I catch the boy sneaking around a vegetable stand, hugging the ball of light to his chest. I run forward, tumbling past people who are just standing there. Why is the market this crowded? Why aren’t people ambling around, shopping? They all stand there, frowning, as I swivel among them.
The boy sees me coming, but I’m already close, within two body lengths. He darts into the open square. Too late I realize why no one is moving, just standing around and staring at the center path. A coach, bright blue, gold trimmed, and pulled by one large elephant, rumbles along the path. The boy glances back at me, not what he is about to run into. Everything slows.
“Stop!”
The elephant startles, trumpeting to the clouds. No green magic spells to combat or halt an animal come to mind.“Tvarenni!”I scream. People around me can foresee the tragedy, the bloody mess the boy is about to be turned into. Their gasps and cries drown out my own voice. Some make way for me, dodging to the side to create a clear path for interception. I push past others. Again I scream the speed spell and my body is enfolded in red.“Tvarenni!”
The elephant jerks skyward. The boy’s hands rise. My firelight gleams, the first thing the elephant will smash. And I pour every ounce of magic I have into my muscles. I must have moved faster than ever before, because somehow I slam into the boy and twist at the same time. The elephant stomps down, an arm’s length from my head. I wince and roll myself and the boy farther to the right.
“Matagga Zantahihtrae,”a male voice chants.
I roll again, the boy and me, tumbling in the dirt. The elephant no longer moves a muscle, but trumpets softly in frustration.Yeah, me too, buddy.
I sit up, dazed by the amount of magic and fear lingering in my bloodstream. The boy whimpers when I move. I process the noise of his heavy crying at the same time a male voice shouts, “Is everyone okay?”
I can’t exactly turn around with the boy fastened to me like a leech, so I raise one weak hand. “Yes, we are alive.” Faces in the crowd gape, hands stretch out. Thank Gods I’m not eighteen yet, that these people have no clue this dirty mop of a girl may be their future ruler.
Someone bends over me, blocking the blinding sun and the blur of faces. It has to be whoever was in the carriage. Before I see his face, an emblem stitched onto his jacket greets me, a snowcapped mountain with blue wind encircling it, the emblem of my intended. Raja…Raja Jatin.
I scramble like I’ve never scrambled before, both brain and body afray. “Ahhh.”
Again, he speaks, with a rich voice that can only be described as masculine. “Are you all right?”
The boy cries into my side. The crowd murmurs. But the noise should be louder, should be as pounding as the questioning voice.AmI all right? Something in me seems to be malfunctioning. Another man appears behind Raja Jatin. “The elephant and everyone else are fine,” he says. “Are she and the boy okay?”
“I think she hit her head,” Raja Jatin says.
“I, um, I’m good.” Good? Really? That’s all I can come up with? Embarrassment, because it knows it has the right to invade this situation, creeps into my cheeks and spreads over my entire body. I must be dipped in a different, fuming red.
Raja Jatin steps back and turns to the crowd, letting his guard, or whoever he is, take charge of the situation I have so amazingly created. The guard ruffles the crying boy’s hair. “Hey, it’s over. It’s okay. Your sister saved you.”
The boy finally looks up and peers into my eyes. “You did save me.” He sniffles. “Why?”
“Ah.” I’m unable to be articulate right now, let alone answer why I value life. The simple answer—because—seems underwhelming and foolish. What actually spills out of my mouth is much worse. “Just answer my questions, okay? Don’t run off.”
The boy nods. In one motion he unwraps his arms from my middle and pulls my firelight into view. “Here, it’s yours.”
I reach to take it, but my left arm falls to my side, limp like jelly. It aches as if the nerve endings have been snapped. Blood, not again. Not now! I grasp the orb with my right hand and let it fall in my lap. How am I going to escape this mess? To burnout at this moment…
I glance at Raja Jatin, who looks stiff, like a statue at a podium addressing the crowd. His guard, however, is enthralled by my exchange with the boy. Confusion lines his features.
He stands and the boy follows. Everyone is waiting on me. Even the crowd strains to catch a glance at the foolish girl who ran toward a royal carriage and now can’t seem to get up.
When I don’t stand, the guard raises his eyebrows and offers his hand. I peek at Raja Jatin again, who is talking to the carriage driver. At least he’s not paying attention to me and has no clue who I am.
“Can you take this?” I gesture to the orb.
“What is it?” the guard asks.
“Firelight,” the boy says before I can answer.
The guard’s eyes widen as he pockets the red magic before reaching down again and grabbing my good hand. With a majority of his help, I’m able to haul myself up. The crowd cheers. I can hear it, but the faces are smudged. My vision swims like I’ve dived into a murky pool. I sway and the guard grabs both my forearms to stabilize me. “Are you sure you aregood? I think you burned out.”
I laugh at his puzzlement. Burned out—the term is particularly accurate for me even though it applies to all witches and wizards. I clench and unclench my left hand. The designs on my wrist don’t glow, and deeper, under the skin, my blood chugs along fast and scared, but not spiced with energy. I haven’t burned out since…ah, wait, there was that time last week.
“I’ve had a busy morning,” I murmur, striving to sound confident. It’s a mediocre attempt at best.
