Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SIMPLE INTENTION

A fter those hectic first few days, I slipped into a routine in the palace. Per Cas’s request, two guards trailed me at all times. I would wake up and have breakfast with Gia. We would take a walk around the gardens, where she spent most of her time. We talked about pleasant things: the herbs she helped to grow, what she learned from the midwives about birth. She seemed happy enough, and curious—asking me questions about the Rexi and the king. I stressed over my friend, for she was herself, yet not. Every so often, she would grow distant, pensive. But even after multiple discussions with the midwives and palace healers, they all assured me she and the baby were perfectly fine.

I sometimes spent a few hours exercising, either sprinting on the track in the training hall or practicing hand-to-hand combat with Cas or members of his personal guard. While he had limited experience in battle, he was still a strong fighter, excelling past the average man in training, but I matched his fancier combinations with my scrappiness and surprise. I held back a few times, letting him pin me and win. I didn’t know why I did it, for he was never in a foul mood when I bested him and won occasionally by his own merit.

After a break for lunch, I would resume my training. Skill practice for an hour or two, either with a bow, sword, or small blade. The afternoon finished with lessons in Witch magic. Cas was adamant about this, for I would need to leverage all my abilities to win the Sk?l, he said.

Cas rotated my instructors. I trained under an Air Witch for element control, to ensure I did not call on the Earth during the Sk?l. Darlan had announced it would be a disqualifying act due to the unfair advantage it gave the favorite. But as Fae could use Fae magic, I would be allowed to spell. As long as I refrained from leveraging my element, cantrips, task spells, and portaling would be acceptable.

So, I also trained with a skilled speller, followed by an expert in portaling. The latter took me weeks of lessons, for the concept was simple but completely intangible. I had to envision a window opening, letting me out the other side. But even after dozens of lessons with the grumpiest portal-maester, I could only travel a few yards.

“Focus,” Sabnae hissed, hunched over his cane. “If you drain yourself, girl, you will be stranded. Or worse—lost to the in-between.”

This day, Cas had directed me to meet my instructor outside the castle. He’d portaled us to a large rock off the coast, the palace in the distance. I clutched my woolen coat, the damp air whipping my hair across my face and chilling my teeth.

“I am trying , maester Sabnae,” I gritted out, spreading my hands again, doing my best to outline a portal in front of me.

“Pretty hand dancing will do nothing for you, girl.” The waves pounded the rock we stood on, ocean foam spraying the old male’s woolen coat. “It’s all up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “Take us back to the palace.”

“I know I can, I just need a moment?—”

“Your enemies will not give you a moment, girl. They will give you no mercy. The portal is a Witch’s immediate escape route, her instinctual response when the battle turns from fight to flee. It is one advantage we Witch have over the Fae. But—you must know your limits, at the back of your mind, always. If a Witch is too drained, she may be lost to the in-between forever.”

“And how will I know if I’m too drained?”

“The portal may not come. And if it does, it most often will sputter. If you’ve just released a large swell of Witch-power, that will likely be the case. However, it’s an important limit to know—if you’re drained. More than once, I’ve seen a Witch lost to the in-between, even though her portal didn’t clearly sputter.”

The ocean wind lashed at Sabnae’s robes with a vengeance, and he revealed a crooked smile. “I happen to know you’ve not been training with your Earth powers, given you’ll not be permitted to use them in the Sk?l.”

“Right, I’m not drained now, per-say, I’m just having trouble visuali?—”

Sabnae portaled. Leaving me stranded at least a mile from the palace.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I swore, nearly sobbing in frustration.

It took me hours, and I had to portal from rock to rock to return, an excruciatingly slow process. But that experience finally settled the lesson in me. While I could still portal only a quarter mile, and I had to either be able to see or have previously seen my destination, it was a useful distance.

I spent the evenings in banquets, a different dress each night, a different slow torture. Tensions ran high between the Rexi and me—she had not summoned me again after that first time. During the dinners, she spoke in riddles and harped to the table about the importance of my Siphon—or ignored me entirely. When I was unlucky enough to receive her direct address, she spoke of our return to Nebbiolo. How she would show me our queendom, how I would know our people. I wondered if she planned to kill me on our way there, maybe dump my body into the Dusked Sea. Maybe she would wait, letting me see the land of my birth first. I began to see her lack of motherly attachment, her deep desire to be rid of me. She never asked of my years in Argention, or Valfalla for that matter. She had been clear in her words to Jana—I posed a threat to her and the Nebbiolo people. I could imagine that the threat she considered me at age twelve had only amplified with time.

The king droned on about how I should train in shifting, which sent the Rexi into a fit of silent rage every time, as she believed Witches were above it. He rambled about the bride I would make, about the luster of our wedding, about the heirs we would have. Formidable warriors. No warrior boy would match that of the blood of my sire, the great warrior Viturius, and the great King Darlan. His words curdled in my stomach for more reasons than one.

Of course, I told Cas nothing of my conversation with the king, nor the Rexi, for they had both made their threats plain. I thought again about freeing Gia and Jana, but the risks were more than I wanted to take. So, I continued to train for a battle I would eventually lose. I had answered Cas’s guards’ questions after the incident, reciting what the king had dictated to me. They weren’t Fae, I said. Shaved heads, swirling tattoos on their faces. Asked me about the king, the prince, and the Rexi. Cas’s guards seemed to know who my account implicated and left me alone after that. And of course, Cas shared nothing with me.

We hadn’t been intimate again after that first time, which I came to realize was a product of the day’s intensity and triggering circumstance. Cas was shaped by my loss when we were children, and I think he needed me then to reassure himself I hadn’t gone away again. He never returned to my bedroom, which to my surprise did hurt a little, but was just as well. My dreams of Ezren hadn’t subsided, and I had taken to using Olea’s gift in the mornings, recalling our coupling. It stuck in my mind like honey on the fingertips—when I closed my eyes and pleasured myself, it was all I could see. I tried to think of other things, fabled princes of stories long forgotten, but if I wanted the release, I needed Ezren’s image, green eyes and a golden muscled body. Dark auburn hair, in tendrils, framing his beautifully harsh face, decorated with male scruff. And when I thought of him, my scale turned to scalding hot ice, sending a tremor through my body, as if it knew where my pleasure came from. Afterwards I would lie in bed and hold in tears, for Ezren was exactly what I needed and exactly… wasn’t.

After just short of two weeks of training, the king announced the date of the Sk?l. He made the proclamation at a banquet one night, without informing any of us ahead of time. It would be in ten days’ time, he said. He also announced that the next night would be a grand celebration, for the day marked an important milestone.

“What is he talking about?” Cas muttered, and then reddened once the king said the ball would be in my honor, for tomorrow I’d enter my twenty-first year. A special gala to not only celebrate my twentieth birthday but also my return home, which represented a deliberate blow to the Drakkarian campaign against Viribrum. I rolled my eyes, wondering how much of it was celebration, and how much was politics.

The next day, I finished my training early, per Gia and Olea’s requests. They awaited me in my chambers, both dressed for the event, still hours away.

I walked in, already exasperated by what I knew would be extreme fussing over my birthday look. It surprised me to find no myriad of gowns strewn around the room, no trove of jewels opened up and on glittering display—only a steaming tub and two giggling females. I narrowed my eyes at them. They just gestured to the water.

“I don’t know if I like the two of you teamed up,” I grumbled, lowering myself into the bath. Gia smacked my head lovingly and said, “Oh Terra, when are you going to learn to trust someone?”

Her tone was light, but the words hung on me as they combed through my sweaty braids and scrubbed the dirt from beneath my nails.

They dried me with a thick cloth and wrapped me in a robe. I sat in front of the open window, the sea breeze blowing through my hair while they applied shadows and pigments to my eyelids, cheeks, and lashes. I fought the urge to fidget, nervous about what the night had in store, but when I asked, Gia only tsked at me to stay still.

After they finished and my hair dried, they worked together to braid it, pulling it wide, leaving strategic pieces out to frame my face. It had grown so long it neared my rear when unbound. They said the result was regal, and after looking at their intricate work in the mirror, I couldn’t disagree with them.

“Alright, what terrifying dress will you two be putting me in tonight?” I asked. They giggled. “Oh, my dear Terra, tonight you will be dressing yourself,” Gia purred.

I cocked my head in confusion, just when someone knocked at the door. Olea admitted four guards, each carrying the corner of a large pallet covered in dirt.

“The other day you coaxed a full rose bed out of a barren, dried garden patch. It got me thinking. I wondered what you could do with fertile soil.” Gia winked at me.

“And ye’ll have thes, te’ help ye,” Olea added, retrieving the golden crown from the chest. I hadn’t worn it again since that first night in court.

The servants set the pallet in the middle of the room and left. My brows furrowed together. “You two just spent an hour removing every spec of dirt from my body, and now you want me to roll around in soil to make a dress?”

Olea clucked her tongue at me. “Ets jest a hunch, Terra, ye see? We thenk et’ll be, err, different.”

“Humor us, will you?” Gia batted her eyes.

And so I did. I let my feet sink into the silky soil, remembering the luxurious feeling of connecting with the Earth. Gia removed my robe, leaving me bare, and Olea set the golden band on the crown of my head. The power of it thrummed against my skull, but this time it only stirred, rather than exploding in action. I reached out to the energy from where I stood, calling the Earth in a language that was ours, and ours alone. It sang back to me, whispering my full name. I tented my fingers by my sides, and the dirt rose from the pallet, floating mid-air, drawn to my fingertips. Instead of giving it a thread of a picture, an intention to follow, I tried something different. I spoke a spell, a simple cantrip that would dress someone. “Sero-ores,” I commanded to the Earth and crown.

As I spoke the words, a piercing light burst from the Dragon scale on my hipbone, not hot to the touch, but blinding. It hung in the air for a few seconds, and we all cried out—Gia and Olea for the brightness, me for the surprise force on my leg. And then it was gone, as was the dirt I stood upon. I blinked my eyes open, searching Gia and Olea for injury. They only stared back at me, mouths ajar.

“What is it?” I demanded, panicking at their expression.

“Terra, you’re going to have to see this,” Gia whispered, taking my hand, gently leading me to the mirror.

I gaped. I wore a dress of layered emerald chiffon, a color that reminded me of Ezren’s eyes. A jewel-toned sash just above my belly button belted a deep V neckline. Long billowy sleeves synched at my wrists with golden engraved cuffs. The skirts gathered all around me, different shades of green blending together in a fluid way that changed with the air or movement—the hues ebbed and flowed upon the fabric, clearly a product of magic. And of course, small colored buds clustered on my waist, spreading out from there and thinning in quantity as they did so. The gold crown was no longer a simple band—it remained, but also bled into my braids, weaving tendrils of gold through my hair. My eyes, normally an earthy color, shined an even brighter green, more illuminated than Ezren’s—so bright I guessed one could see them in the dark. And if all of that wasn’t enough, the real change came from my skin. It glowed, a soft warm hue of light, shimmering like diamonds reflecting the sun’s rays. The effect was not just breathtaking; it was otherworldly . I looked no longer even Fae—more like one of the old gods.

As if Olea heard me, she whispered, “Ye look te be the Mother, herself.” And then she dropped to her knees, pressing her head to the floor. “Hail, Creatrix,” she chanted, and Gia and I stared at her as if she had changed.

Luckily, Gia took charge. I was grateful for the Gia I knew to be shining through in a moment like this. “Olea,” she murmured, “get up, please. Go tell Cas that Terra will not need an escort tonight.”

Olea curtsied and scurried off. Gia looked back at me once more, inclining her head.

“Well, no one will be able to deny that you look like a queen,” she said.

I cocked my head. We’d barely discussed the politics I’d been swept up in—potential royal duties included—but the knowing in her eyes made me wonder if Gia observed more than she let on.

But before I could ask her, she turned, made her way to my door, and looked back at me. “Wait fifteen minutes, then come down. I’ll be waiting for you,” she commanded, leaving me with a wink.

I spent those long minutes with my head out of the open window, breathing in the salty air, basking in the sliver of shining crescent moonlight. I would be more on display than ever before, and a part of me hated it. Another part of me reveled in it. If the king and the Rexi were going to threaten me, use me for political advantage, well then, I would play by the same rules. I would use what I had to give myself every advantage. I shut the window and walked out.

The illumination of my skin and eyes grew even more prominent in the low light of the banquet hall. Before the doors opened, I heard the announcer tap his staff to the stone floor, a quiet settling over the revelers. And then, I entered. The Fae that had spent weeks picking me over stared with open jaws. The only audible sound came from my slippers striking stone, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the golden shimmer wafting off my skin, creating a soft halo around my body. At some point in my procession, a set of hands slammed on the banquet table. They were followed by another, and another, until my feet moved to a slow beat that echoed through the hall.

I turned to face the party-goers when I reached the table of the crown, which I was to be placed in the middle of, given the banquet was in my honor. I extended my arms out to the side and closed my eyes, feeling the glow on my skin intensify as I worked my magic. The buds on my dress bloomed before the crowd, bigger and bigger, until the flowers could no longer stay. I whispered to the blooms, a spell of life that was a cantrip and the Earth woven together, just as I had made the dress. When I did, the thousands of flowers transformed mid-air into a kaleidoscope of butterflies, bursting away from me and soaring through the hall.

“Creatrix!” a female voice cried out. Countless cries followed until the hollering and clapping drenched us, drowning everything else out.

Late in the evening—or early in the morning—I collapsed in my bed, exhausted from the hours upon hours of dancing with Gia and Cas, and the many other Fae that now vied for my friendship. Cas was kind, introducing me to many of his warrior companions who had come just to meet me. A traveling fiddler bunch, renowned on the continent, played for hours, and we danced until our feet hurt. I allowed myself too much wine and thought little of the king and Rexi, who both fumed at my winning display, and then retired early.

Gia and I bent over in chortles when we pushed Olea toward the guard we’d caught her eyeing the past few weeks. Gia knew him, because he was posted to her, so we arranged for them to dance, and then lost our composure when her face reddened at our intervention. It must have gone well, for she asked me late into the evening if I could undress myself. I cackled once again and bid her to go.

Cas left before Gia and I did, and I wondered who warmed his bed that night. But Gia pulled me out of that thought spiral by dragging me back to the dance floor, and I marveled at the energy in my pregnant friend.

After the music began to dwindle, we walked with arms linked back to our chambers, and I deposited her first. Only one guard remained at her door, and we giggled once again.

I made my way back to my chamber, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in a long while. My skin prickled at the sweet sea breeze in my room when I entered. I collapsed into bed, not bothering to remove more than my shoes, a smile spreading across my face.

Something prodded me from under my back, something hard and out of place. I flipped over in an instant, throwing the pillow to the side. And there lay a package wrapped in cloth, with a note on top labeled Terragnata .

My insides warmed. Cas was always such a lover of gift-giving. I sat on my heels, my skirts all around me, opening the note first. It read:

Happy Birthday, Bellatori.

If you want me close, as more than just another sword in your defense, you only need to wear this ring, and it will be so.

Your choice. I cannot wait to see the things you do, no matter if up close or from afar.

- E

P.S. You looked radiant tonight. I find it impossibly hard to not smile when you do.

I froze, the breath catching in my lungs. Slowly, I pulled the cloth apart, as if the contents might jump out at me. The inside revealed a curved dagger with a blazing emerald pressed into the engraved hilt, rather like the cuffs on my dress. Wrapped around the blade was a piece of ribbon with a delicately braided golden ring, specked with emeralds, fastened to its knot.

I picked up the blade, sending my magic through it, and the stone glowed, thrumming with power like Ezren’s sword had when I fought Fayzien in the valley. I looked around the room, imagining him climbing through the window, standing above my bed, laying the gift beneath my pillow. I rolled onto my back, holding the dagger flat on my chest, letting the tears slip down my cheeks as the wine pulled me into a restless sleep.