Heavenly Bodies

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

That night, Elara asked to take dinner in her room, giving a tight nod to Leonardo, who seemed to have taken up residency outside her door. If she had been in a different mood, she may have taunted him about his apparent demotion to guard duty, but her hands were still shaking as she twisted the knob and closed the door firmly shut. It was only then, with a door between her and the rest of the world, that she dissolved into desperate sobs.

The light, the memories, the feeling of helplessness, the prince’s words , it all crashed upon her. She hated him. She had never hated a person more. The pain in her chest was almost cracking her in two when she heard soft, slippered footsteps approach.

Elara looked up, desperately trying to wipe her tears as Merissa stood there, concern plastered over her face.

‘Elara,’ she breathed. She set down the heavily laden tray of food she was carrying, and then disappeared into the bathroom with quick steps, returning with a clean hand towel that she passed to Elara. The gesture—the small kindness in such an evil fucking kingdom—set off another fresh wave of tears.

A cool hand rested upon her chest. ‘Breathe,’ Merissa soothed.

Elara tried to, another big, shuddering wail leaving her.

‘Once more,’ Merissa said.

Elara tried again, this time able to take a full breath. Merissa kept her hand on Elara’s heart until her whimpers had subsided.

‘My brother used to do that for me when I was little,’ she said quietly, her eyes crinkling. ‘Better?’

Elara nodded, sniffing.

Merissa opened her mouth, then closed it. Elara watched as she wetted her lips before speaking. ‘I know this is hard,’ she began hesitantly. ‘I know this kingdom isn’t one you want to be in. I know that life has taken so much from you in the space of a few days. But remember this. You are a queen. It is in your blood. Try as they might, no one can take that from you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Not Prince Lorenzo, or King Idris.’ She paused, and Elara waited. ‘I-I hope I’m not speaking out of turn. But if…if you ever need a friendly face, you’re allowed to roam freely through the palace. I’m usually in the kitchen during the day. So if there’s anything you need after your training, or if you just want a break from His Highness, you can find me there.’

Elara squeezed Merissa’s hand. Perhaps she shouldn’t have. Perhaps she should have seen her as an enemy too. But so little kindness had been shown to her, and here Merissa was, offering it on a silver platter.

‘Thank you,’ she replied hoarsely.

The next day, Elara was woken in the same manner, by Merissa with a tray bursting with treats. This time she’d included some pastries, and Elara made the glamourer share one with her. As she ate, she wondered whether King Idris would do exactly what Enzo wanted and hand her over to Ariete. But to her reluctant relief, she was dressed in clean linens, glamoured and led once more down the great staircase.

This time, Enzo wasn’t waiting for her, and Merissa took her towards the throne room. As they reached the doors, she heard shouting beyond them.

‘I cannot, Father! Her illusions, her tricks—this magick is beneath me. It’s humiliating. Moreover, she is weak—uncontrolled. She tried to kill me, for Stars’ sake! I refuse.’

‘Refuse?’ Idris’s voice replied coldly. ‘You will do well to remember that I am your king. To disobey my order is to commit treason. You know the punishment for that, don’t you?’

There was a pause. ‘Yes, Father.’

Merissa tried to usher Elara away, but she shook her head, pressing her ear against the door. ‘Her attempt on your life belies your weakness, Lorenzo. That is the embarrassment. Now get out of my sight. If she tries to kill you again, good. If she succeeds, so be it. It means she has power. The kind of power that might rise against a Star.’

More silence. A resigned sigh.

‘Yes, Father.’

She heard footsteps, and hastily walked back over to the bottom of the stairs. Merissa gave her a reassuring look, before disappearing down a corridor. Elara nervously patted the braid Merissa had tied in her hair, strewn with little carnelian gems to match her linens.

When Enzo appeared, he didn’t even look at her. ‘Come along,’ he said tightly, hitching a brown rucksack upon his shoulder.

This time there were no forest paths. Instead, they took a right past the palace gates, and around the back of the eastern side of the massive building. A small, dusty side path wound them away from the palace, up a steep incline. She found herself needing to drink in deep lungfuls of the clean air the higher they climbed.

‘Can you seriously not find anywhere flat to train?’ she asked him, his tall figure storming paces ahead.

‘How about you save that breath for climbing? You’re going to need it,’ he retorted.

She raised her hands in exasperation as she continued in the blistering heat.

As they finally reached even ground, her mouth fell open in astonishment. All worries and hatred from the day before vanished in a moment. Because there, stretched before them, was a plain of sands, deep red and shifting as though a tide was pulling it. But what had really caught her attention were the two statues stretching over fifty feet high. Two winged figures, their hands shielding their eyes, gilded and shimmering. A cooling breeze tickled her hair as it rolled in from the sea of sand.

‘Welcome to the Angel’s Graveyard,’ Enzo said to her over his shoulder.

‘Cheerful place,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Legend says,’ he said as he walked up the steps hewn into warmed brown stone, on to a stone dais, ‘that the angels of Sveta died here in a mighty battle against the winged lions of Helios. Their leader Celine took the last stand against the mighty Nemeus and was vanquished.’

‘They were burned to ash, their blood mingling with the earth, creating the Sea of Sands,’ she finished. Enzo finally looked at her, frowning.

‘That’s from—’

‘ The Mythas of Celestia. Shocking, I know, that Asterians are taught how to read,’ she said sardonically.

Enzo scoffed.

‘I thought you refused to train me,’ she said.

He paced the circle, across stone that Elara now noticed was etched with small, indistinct symbols. ‘I do as my father commands. He implored I continue. Apparently he sees something in you that I don’t.’

‘He has my deepest gratitude,’ she replied drily.

Enzo sighed, grudgingly turning to look at her. ‘I suppose we had better start. You need to tell me about your magick, so I can gauge what you need to be taught. It’s not just a king we are planning to attack, it’s a god.’

She slumped on to the hot stone dais, rooting through the pack Enzo had laid down until she found a canteen. She took a drink of water before answering. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, I know that you possess the Three, and that you can’t be killed by a Star.’

She fiddled with the lid of the canteen as she tried not to think about the day that Ariete had tried and failed to kill her.

‘So, what are your Three?’ he continued. ‘I know that one is illusioning. And what was that other one—from yesterday?’ Was that real fear his eyes were betraying?

‘That’s part of illusioning,’ she said. ‘It’s not real. But I’ve found a way to tap into someone’s fears. For my illusion to become their nightmare. I can never see what it is though,’ she added, when his jaw set.

‘It’s not real? But…’ He paused. ‘Yesterday, I felt it. The moment it came into contact with my light, it was as though it became real.’ He glanced down to the bandage wrapped around his arm.

‘I don’t know what that was,’ she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘That’s never happened before.’

He searched her face, as though trying to find the lie with those seer powers of his. A moment later, his professional formality returned. ‘We’ll revisit it later,’ he said, ‘and see if it’s something that can be honed.’

She fidgeted with her braid. ‘The next gift I have is dreamwalking. I can visit dreams and nightmares. I can speak to people within them. I can help them, or damn them.’

He stiffened. ‘And that’s a common Asterian gift?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s the rarest. Most Asterians are shadowmancers, the rest illusionists. There aren’t many dreamwalkers in my kingdom.’

Fire flickered frantically between his hands, but when Elara noticed it, it extinguished.

‘The last is shadowmancing then?’ he demanded.

Elara tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry, so she just nodded.

‘Then where are your shadows? I’ve met many a shadowmancer in my time who has tried to kill my light with their darkness. Where was yours yesterday, when I had you pinned to a tree?’

The cool amusement in his face made her stomach writhe.

She didn’t want to say it—she wouldn’t say it. But skies, she could feel a magick settling over her, something that probed and pushed. It was invisible, but it felt as foreign as the Light, urging her to be truthful. It wrapped around her, trying to push past the shadows stuck within her, and Elara desperately tried to push her box deeper within the shadows, somewhere that Enzo could never find it, could never know that she was hiding terrible secrets from him. But to her horror, a ray of light shone a gap through the shadows, beaming right over the obsidian chest. His light tried to prize it open, but it remained firmly locked.

‘Well, well,’ Enzo said. ‘It didn’t take long for your wall to break down for me.’

Elara stood quickly, pulling out the dagger that until now she had kept hidden on her thigh. ‘Get out of my godsdamned head,’ she spat.

Enzo looked at the weapon, cruel amusement in his eyes. ‘Not until you can be honest. What are you hiding in that little box, Elara?’

‘I will gut you where you stand if you don’t get your filthy light out of me.’ She was heaving breaths, his element so wrong within her. Enzo chuckled, but she slowly felt her shadows wrap around the box inside her again, his light dissipating.

‘Something happened to your shadows.’

‘I can’t wield them, if that’s what you are so desperate to know,’ she said, voice hardening.

‘What do you mean, you can’t ?’

‘I mean that I can’t conjure a single one,’ she snapped.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ she lied.

Enzo’s magick crept in tendrils over her once more, trying to coax the truth out of her, trying to scour her soul for the lies upon it. But Elara gritted her teeth, making sure the shadows trapped within her wrapped more tightly around her truths, until he brought his seer magick back to him.

‘The shadows are still within you,’ he said.

‘I know,’ she replied.

‘So I suppose our work is going to be to release them.’

‘And how exactly are you going to do that?’

‘I am the most accomplished magi Helios has seen in generations,’ he replied calmly.

‘Are you the most modest magi too?’ she asked, smiling sweetly.

His eyes flattened. ‘You’re going to have to at least try to work with me.’

She hesitated. She didn’t want to help him, or his father. But if he could help her access her shadows again, if she could feel them between her fingertips once more, then perhaps she really could kill Ariete, and reclaim her throne.

‘Fine,’ she gritted out.

‘Believe me,’ he added, stretching out his shoulder muscles. ‘I’m as happy about this arrangement as you are.’

‘Well, that makes me smile.’

He stood. ‘Come on then. Let’s try and loosen these blocks.’ He turned, lifting his shirt up over his head. Elara’s breath hitched.

His back was a masterpiece of carved rippling muscle, appearing burnished in the heat. But it was his tattoo that had stopped her. Between his shoulders, a snarling lion in mid-roar was etched in gold, its teeth glinting. Wings stretched out over each of his shoulder blades, drawn in such breathtaking detail, Elara couldn’t look away. As he rolled his neck, the taut muscles straining, the lion’s wings rippled as though it was about to take flight. It was beautiful. Vicious.

‘What are you doing?’ she managed to breathe. He turned, mirth playing on his lips.

‘Does a little skin make you feel uncomfortable, Princess Elara?’ His torso gleamed with sweat in the unforgiving brightness, shining on the hard muscles carved into his stomach, and deep lines that disappeared into his loose-fitting trousers. He stretched his arms out, and she averted her eyes.

‘I just didn’t think a prince would need to flex his glamour muscles for an ego boost. Nice tattoo by the way, Lion of Helios. Subtle.’

He smirked as he paced, infuriating her more. ‘Where do you think people got the nickname?’

For once, she didn’t have a reply ready and cursed herself, her traitorous eyes drawn back to those muscles.

He drew his sword, tossing her another from his belt.

She caught it, looking to it warily. ‘I don’t fight with swords.’

‘Then today you’ll learn. You’re too in your mind. You need to be in your body. As a boy, it was when I would reach the point of mental exhaustion that my light would pour out of me. Right now you don’t need to worry about control. Only release. We’ll start there.’

He raised his sword, and Elara copied the motion, the weapon too heavy in her hand. Elara had been taught combat growing up, but always with a dagger or knives. Cunning and illusions were what had helped her during her training in Asteria.

‘No magick,’ he warned. ‘Only weapons.’

Enzo struck, and Elara’s sword immediately flew from her hand.

In another clean move, Enzo had Elara on her back, the point of his sword pressed to her neck.

She wheezed, the wind knocked out of her. ‘Up,’ he said.

She hauled herself to her feet, and picked her sword up once again.

‘Change your stance,’ he said. ‘Put more weight on your back foot, so that it can anchor you when defending, or propel you when you attack.’

She blew a strand of hair out of her face, obliging. This time, when Enzo struck, she gritted her teeth, keeping her sword up. She felt the impact jar through her entire hand and shoulder, and cursed, but it held. Until Enzo struck again, and she was disarmed once more.

‘Again,’ he said.

Strike, parry, disarm.

Strike, parry, disarm.

Again, and again, Enzo moved, until her shoulder ached and her breath heaved from bending to pick her sword up every minute.

Something in her began to fray every time Enzo laughed as he beat her, as he mocked her. This was meant to be hand-to-hand combat. But the thread on Elara’s temper grew too thin, and she was tired of following the rules he had set. There was a shimmer as she weaved an illusion, a serpent slithering across the ground, its scales shining emerald in the Light.

Enzo saw it and stumbled to the left, out of its way. Right into Elara’s trap. She had dashed behind him, and now kicked his legs out while he tried to right himself.

Enzo grunted as he was knocked to the ground, sand billowing up in clouds. His sword fell, and Elara kicked it out of his grasp as she pounced upon him, thighs locked around his waist as her sword grazed his neck. She could do it. In one swipe, she could slit his throat.

Enzo’s eyes flashed.

‘Do it then,’ he hissed, pushing his neck closer against the blade. A bead of blood formed, and she gritted her teeth, willing herself to end him.

But Enzo’s furious gaze didn’t once show fear, he didn’t once plead or beg, or back down. Those eyes just continued to simmer. She shifted upon him, her mouth drying, her plait grazing his bare stomach. And maybe it was the stubbornness he displayed that convinced Elara he truly could help her. Or his stupid courage, which had him staring death in the face with utter wrath. Either way, her hand trembled with adrenaline as she lowered her weapon and lightly jumped off him.

She chuckled quietly to herself, the euphoria of triumph coursing through her veins. Then there was a loud pop, and she turned to see him back on his feet again, flames sparking from his hands, a look of thunder on his face.

‘You illusioned.’

She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter what I did. I had the Lion of Helios’s throat under my blade.’

‘It was fucking darkcraft.’

She expertly twirled the dagger in her hand, before sheathing it, raising the sword in her other hand.

‘Ah,’ she exclaimed theatrically, ‘but the question is, who was at whose mercy?’

‘There would have been no honour in that kill,’ he seethed. ‘You tricked me.’

‘And you’re so honourable are you, Lion ?’

His face shifted, and she saw the familiar arrogance place a veneer over his fury. ‘Oh, honourable is about the last thing a woman would call me.’

Elara ignored his attempt to rile her up.

Instead, she slumped to the ground, taking a long swig of water. ‘Your plan didn’t work. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically, yet not a wisp of shadow has appeared.’

‘I know,’ he said shortly, sitting down next to her. ‘And my magick isn’t helping. I can’t get far enough past your shadows to see what might unblock them.’

He looked at Elara hopefully, but she stayed mute.

He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘I’m going to have to take you to Isra.’

‘Who is Isra?’

‘A friend. And one you sorely need if we’re to stand a chance of honing your gifts into any kind of fighting shape.’ He stood, and so did Elara.

‘Really? I thought I was doing so well,’ Elara replied drily.

He gave her an irritated look as he reached for his shirt. ‘Tonight, practise your illusions,’ he ordered. ‘See if there’s a way to deliberately bring weight to them—like you did in the forest yesterday, but deliberately. And dreamwalk tonight. I don’t care where, but it’s important you keep training the two magicks you can use, until we figure out a way to access your shadows. Which we will, though no thanks to you.’

‘You make it sound so easy.’

‘Do you think it was easy for me to become who I am today? It was never easy. I just never gave up.’

She studied him for a moment, a familiar anger settling in her bones.

‘Yes, you don’t give up. Even when innocent Asterians are begging you to,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard many stories about how you became who you are today. And now I know you, I think I believe every single one.’

Enzo rose, a dry, hollow laugh echoing from him as he stepped towards her.

‘And what exactly is it that you’ve heard, princess?’ he murmured. He made his way closer. ‘That I’m an incredible lover?’ He stretched one arm with the other. She ignored the ripple of his biceps. ‘That I’m a feared warrior?’

‘That you’re dangerous and merciless. We were warned about you. The Lion of Helios, who razes anything to the ground which stands in his way.’

‘Aren’t you afraid?’ He was inches from her now, his towering figure blocking the Light above. He brought his hand to a strand of hair blown across her face by the hot, arid wind. Her eyes flashed, and she raised her chin.

‘I fear nothing.’

‘Lying fool,’ he replied. ‘Everybody is scared of something.’ He reached out, grasping the errant strand of hair as he wound it around a finger.

She jolted at his touch, her shadows rearing within her. ‘Perhaps,’ she got out. ‘But you certainly don’t scare me.’

‘Oh really?’ he asked softly, and tucked the hair behind her ear, grazing her neck. ‘Because your pulse tells me otherwise.’

He pulled away, a smug smile on his face as he strolled across the flat sands, back towards the path they’d climbed. She took a deep gulp of air before snatching up her flask. Swearing under her breath, she made her way down the winding sand path, wishing fervently she’d just driven the damn blade through his neck.