I snatched my arms off the table and glanced around the room at the tapestries of the nine Gods: the blue God, Retaw, commanded a flood; green Goddess Htrae reigned over a field; yellow God Ria flew in a tornado; red Goddess Erif ruled a volcano; white God Dloc swirled within a blizzard; pink Goddess Laeh cured sickness; black God Wodahs concealed himself in a dark cloak; purple God Raw stood on a battlefield; and orange Goddess Renni was enveloped in muscles and strength. They looked ready to eat me before considering giving me power. Could they really be arguing over me?
“That’s more reassuring than…the alternative.” Mother sighed.
I pressed my mark, hard. Without magic, withoutallnine types of magic, I was useless. No title. No ability to lead any country, let alone mine. When I glanced up to see Maharaja Naupure still inspecting me, the weekly lectures on politeness were completely forgotten.
“Do you need to check my molars too?” I opened my mouth.
“Adraa,” my mother spat. I closed my mouth quickly, but continued staring at him.See therealme, Maharaja Naupure. See how unsuitable I would be as maharani of Naupure! And not because my right arm is bare.
Maharaja Naupure again barked out a laugh, which seemed to be his only sound of amusement. “Oh my. You remind me of my Savi.”
Before my parents could agree or Mother could shuffle out of the awkwardness of having to admit I was in fact her daughter, a boy,the boy,walked into the parlor. He had jet-black hair like my own, brown skin much lighter than mine, and shiny, glazed-over eyes. Jatin, my betro—I couldn’t even think it. Here I was, goose bumps radiating up my arms and down my legs, and he wascalm.No, he looked…bored.
Not looking bored was rule one, right before being excessively polite. Which, when you think about it, is the same rule, because this calmness was all sorts of annoying. How could he be calm?
“Jatin, there you are. Come meet everyone. This is the Maharaja and Maharani of Belwar.”
Jatin nodded. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” So I wasn’t the only one with regurgitated lines.
Jatin bowed to my parents and then turned back to his father with a “what else must I do” expression.
“And, Jatin, this is Adraa.”
Should I stand or something?Before I could make up my mind, Jatin turned to me and gave the most awkward smile ever crafted. Both of his canines were missing.
“Hello,” we said simultaneously.
“Jatin, why don’t you show Adraa your room,” Maharaja Naupure suggested.
Jatin looked up at his father with calm obedience. No help for the cause there.
Mother nudged me with an elbow. “Go on, Adraa. We need to talk with Maharaja Naupure in private.”
I twisted around, ready to pout my way out of this, but then I saw my father’s eyes. They weren’t crinkled in humor. They werealwayscrinkled in humor. But not today. I had to let this boy show me his room. Jatin nodded for me to follow. Nodded! You would think this kid owned the whole country. Well, I guess he would one day.
I trailed Jatin up more stone steps and through the labyrinth of the palace, staring at his back. Any time he even twitched to turn around and look at me, I pretended to be fascinated with the yellow and blue entanglement of colors on the archways.
When we finally stopped, Jatin gestured to a wood door with his name etched in swirly lines. “Here it is.”
I crossed my arms. I could play this game all day. “It’s a very nice door.”
Jatin stared at me, waiting, and then turned the handle and waited again. Nope. No way. I was not going in first. That was how I would get locked in a room and never be heard from again. My parents might trust this calm, polite boy, but I didn’t. It was an act, for sure.
“Ah, you can go in,” he said.
“You first.”
“But…you’re supposed to—”
“Supposed to what?”Fall for your tricks? Think again, boy.
“Never mind.” And with that, Jatin ambled into his room with me right behind.
I expected massive, like everything here, and while the furniture appeared oversized, it was because the room in fact was not enormous. It could hold a single elephant instead of an entire herd. The clutter might have also had something to do with it. A library had exploded upon the desk. Parchment dripped to the floor. Orbs and bottles glowed with tiny balls of magic on every flat surface. I stared, captivated by the glowing swirls of color. In one row sat all nine types of magic, neatly arranged and gleaming like a rainbow. A small red fire, an orange mist, a yellow glimmer of air, a bundle of green mossy material, a blue wave, a purple spike, a pink ball, a black fuming shadow, and, finally, white frost crystals. Was all thishis?
It had to be. When first learning and trying to cast spells, young witches and wizards create each individual and godly color. Only at age sixteen is one’s forte determined. Then every spell filters through your particular blessed color. Which meant with the array of hues surrounding us, Jatin could already castallnine!
Jatin grabbed a white orb, whipping my attention back to him. “Do you know magic yet?” he asked as he spun the translucent container. Snowflakes and frost crystals shimmered inside. His Touch swirled in an intricate design up the back of his rightwrist.
