23. Chapter Twenty-Three Bahira
Chapter Twenty-Three: Bahira
“I can’t believe we are even having this conversation, Bahira Rose Daxel.” I wince a little at the use of my full name by my father as he stares at me with frustration. He’s dressed more casually today, a loose black tunic barely half tucked into dark blue breeches with black boots. The colors are reminiscent of what one would wear to a funeral. Shit, maybe it’s my funeral.
“Father, I was defending my honor. He was spreading lies about me,” I argue defensively.
Though it has been a week since my encounter with Gosston, word traveled pretty quickly and eventually made its way to my father. He has been so busy with the council lately that I was hoping he wouldn’t have heard. I was wrong. Apparently, Gosston’s father is furious that a member of the royal family “attacked” his son. He’s been hounding the council and my father nearly every day since. My father sighs, tilting his head up to the sky like he’s dealing with a petulant child.
“Why are you upset with me? I thought you would be proud that I stood up for myself.” Sitting on the edge of my bed, I can’t help but feel small under the scrutiny of my father’s stare.
“Bahi, you know that I am. But things are chaotic within the kingdom right now. You were at the council meeting,” he says, taking a seat next to me on the bed. “You saw how scared these men are. They feel a shift—we all do. Something unknown is lurking in the next realm over, and we are all on edge just waiting to see what it is.”
“Have you heard from Nox?” I ask, turning to look at him. He simply shakes his head, his thumb tapping away on his knee. “And what about you, are you scared?” My father is the type of man that is secure enough to recognize his feelings and emotions and speak about them openly. He knows I ask the question out of pure curiosity, not of judgment.
Looking out into my room, he takes his time answering as he gathers his thoughts. “Yes and no. I worry about what your brother will find and how he will manage to get it back to this kingdom, if it truly is something that could be used to attack. I worry about our people and whatever is causing our magic to weaken. While we have trained warriors, the heart of our defense comes from that magic and the density of the forest around us.” He turns his gaze to me, the truth of his fear reflecting in his eyes. “And if Nox is correct on the size of their army, then I worry even more about how we will protect ourselves.” I exhale deeply, laying my head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around me. “And I worry for you,” he confides while kissing the top of my head.
“I can take care of myself,” I joke, biting back a smile. “Clearly.”
“Do I even want to know what was said to make you attack him with your spear?”
“Oh, the same thing the men on the council give me shit about,” I grumble. While that’s obviously not everything he said, my father doesn’t need to know the rest.
“Hmm,” he replies, tightening his arm around me briefly before continuing, “and you let him goad you into fighting him over it?”
I jerk out of his embrace as I sit up quickly, ready to explain all the reasons that Gosston needed to be shut up—even if they will embarrass me—but my father holds up his hand.
Smiling at the scowl on my face, he says, “Let me continue. There is not a soul in the capital who doesn’t know that you are working towards a solution to our fading magic,” he states, wrapping his arm around my shoulders again. “I know that if anyone is capable of figuring it out, it is you.” His words pour into me, filling me with an acknowledgement of the work I’m doing that I didn’t know I needed. “I’m just worried that you’re tying up too much of yourself in your pursuit,” he adds.
“What do you mean?”
“Your worth and value are not a byproduct of how much magic you may or may not have. And I worry that, along the way, others have made you feel like it is. Maybe even myself or your mother—”
“No,” I interject. My feelings around this entire conversation are exasperated at best, but I won’t let my father place blame on himself for the lengths I’ve gone to in trying to fix our magic. “You and mother have always supported and encouraged me. It’s just…” I trail off, my father staying silent as I find the words I can only voice around him. Around everyone else, I have to be strong, determined, unbothered, unbreaking. With my parents—especially my father—I can let that facade drop without judgment. “I just feel like I was meant for more. I don’t know why or how to even quantify what that is, only that it’s my job—my destiny—to figure this out. That once I do, I’ll be rewarded with the part of my soul that feels like it’s missing.” My voice wobbles, an embarrassing wetness beginning to well in my eyes before I push it away.
The pressure placed on me from both myself and the opinions of others feels unbearable at times. Using it as motivation is the only thing I can do to avoid being crushed beneath it. I feel like I am carrying double my own weight—it’s doable, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy.
“And what will you do if you fix the magic for everyone else and you still don’t have any?” he wonders.
I shrug, not wanting to entertain that possibility. “Then I guess I’ll make Mother happy and marry Daje after all.”
My father chuckles, squeezing me once more before letting go and standing up. “Want to go to my council meeting for me?” he teases, winking in my direction as he not so subtly changes the subject.
“Father, we both know that for the safety of the kingdom, it’s better if I don’t.” I follow him out the door, his laughter booming as his shoulders shake. “What will you be discussing today, anyway?”
“The Summer Solstice celebration,” he sighs, clearly not at all interested in party planning. My father kisses the top of my head before leading us out into the hallway. “I will see you tonight. Do try to keep your fists to yourself today, if only for my sake,” he implores.
I give him a noncommittal shrug—much to his delight—as we split directions. He heads towards the council room for his meeting, and I make my way to the library. I’m going to try my best to avoid worrying about an impending conflict within the realms—much like how I’ve been avoiding pretty much everyone since I fought with Gosston a few days ago.
Though I don’t necessarily regret my choice to defend myself through physical means, I can recognize that it probably wasn’t a healthy way to do so. The anger, and sometimes bitterness, I feel at the way that I am—at what I was born lacking—feels like it grips and shreds my rationality. Then there is the whole interaction with Daje. I’ve definitely been avoiding him specifically. In truth, I don’t know what to say. Thank you for using your magic even though I specifically told you not to, don’t exactly seem like the right words. We haven’t ever fought like that. There’s been a wall of awkward tension between us, growing larger every time Daje hints at his feelings for me and every time I ignore it in return. Guilt settles inside me, a boulder pushing on my insides, nearly making me go out to search for him, but I stifle the urge and continue my walk to the library.
My sandals scuff against the stone beneath me until I reach the many rugs that line the floors inside the building. I wave to Elisha in greeting, who dips her chin respectfully before she turns back to whatever old tome she is reading. Heading to the back, I climb the stairs to the second level where some of the oldest tomes and journals of our kingdom are kept, tucked away against the furthest wall. With so many failed experiments under my belt, I’m wondering if I need to start at the beginning again. There has to be something I missed. Something I’m not seeing and just keep overlooking.
At the top of the stairs, I turn left and walk in the middle of two tall bookcases. The bookshelves up here look ancient, like they might cave in at any second. I’m not sure if it’s magic that keeps the shelves together or if the wood of the banya tree is just that durable, but I make sure to be careful and edge my way around them. Every time I graze against a shelf, I gather more dust on my black leggings.
The only light up here is that of the spelled flames lining the walls and hanging from above. At the back of the hallway, a long wall runs the entire width of the library, and built into that wall are wooden shelves that stretch from floor to ceiling.
These shelves house the journals of the king’s council spanning back to the ancient mages. It is tradition for the council members to keep a chronicle of the kingdom in their time. Some write daily, including musings from the latest council meeting or updates from the last public forum day. Others only write when something of significance occurs, like when the princess of a kingdom shows not even a spark at her Flame Ceremony. While I’ve briefly glanced at them before—several so entirely boring I fell asleep with my face in them—if I go back far enough, will I find something of relevance? There must be an event in one of these journals that I can draw some sort of conclusion from.
Since there is no way to accurately predict how far back the magic issues go, I start with the most recent journals and work backwards from there. Grabbing a stack at the very end of the long bookcase, I make my way back downstairs to my usual table. Setting the journals down, I walk over to the front desk where Elisha is still reading.
She smiles and sets her book aside when I come into her line of sight. “Your Highness, what can I do for you today?”
“I was wondering if you had some blank papers and a spelled pen? I want to take some notes on what I’m reading but forgot to bring anything with me.”
Her lips quirk to the side for a brief moment before she is moving quickly, her petite hands digging into a drawer next to her. She pulls out a beautifully bound black leather journal and a pointed pen. “Here you are, Princess. Is there anything else you need?”
My thumb grazes the outside of the journal. It’s larger than most, ideal for making sure I can write all the things I might need to. “No, this is perfect. Thank you, Elisha.”
She smiles broadly before picking her book up and returning to her reading. I walk back to my table, setting the new journal and pen down before pulling my curly hair up onto the top of my head and securing it with a hair tie. The chair creaks as I take a seat and pull the journal from the top of the stack.
I will have to start with the last entry in the journals and read backwards, working towards the first, to have an accurate timeline of events. Councilman Hadrik’s is the most recent, and when I turn the pages, I find that the final entry is the council meeting that I attended last week. While some details are left out that are too private for just anyone to read—like Nox’s letter—it does go over how the other councilmen have expressed concern about the “magicless princess and her ability to rule should something happen to the crown prince.” I smirk at the following line, “King Daxel promptly put any unfounded concerns to rest when he reminded the council that rulers are chosen by merit and worthiness—as they also were hundreds of years ago—and not by the magic they may possess.”
The journal then goes back, covering flame ceremonies from the previous week including Starla’s. Hadrik is factual about his entries, merely noting the date and what happens. It makes my own note taking that much easier. Hours pass, the sun outside moving into dusk, the soft light trickling in through the canopy of the dense trees. I think I lost the feeling in my ass an hour ago, but I can’t stop reading.
I move on from Hadrik’s journal to Councilman Arav’s next. His writing is less legible, his letters sloppy and loopy. My eyes eventually adjust to his penmanship, and I write out several things that he notes. He mentions a few flame ceremonies in the capital, but about halfway through his journal, an entry about the magic in his small town on the outskirts catches my eye. He talks about how the oldest of the mages there are nearly magicless now. How it takes more and more effort as people grow older to wield the magic they are born with. I set his journal down and write his observations in my own. Is it truly as drastic as he has written for the people of this border town, located less than five miles from the Fae Kingdom? I don’t know if the proximity to the border means anything, but I write it down just in case. I read on for another hour or so before my body protests that I must get up and eat something. I take Arav’s and two other unread journals with me before putting the rest back.
The walk back to the palace is quiet, perfect for my thoughts to run in my head as I try to pluck important data from the information that I am reading. I wonder briefly if a trip to the border is warranted. It would take days and probably be a bit of a logistical nightmare for my father, but it might be worth it to see firsthand how the older mages are losing their magic. Maybe even see if there is something different about the land there. Though I assume if there was something visible and tangible, it would have already been reported.
I walk right to the kitchen when I get home, ordering dinner and a glass of wine to be brought out to the veranda off the first floor. Spelled flames inside a glass vase in the center of the table provide plenty of light as I pull out Arav’s journal.
Just as I am about to dig back in, footsteps alert me to an incoming visitor. My muscles tense as I pray to any god that might be listening that it isn’t Daje. My prayers are answered when Haylee struts in, her flowing pink skirt rustling and bangles dangling on her wrists as she walks. Audibly sighing, I let my shoulders sink in relief, and Haylee chuckles in response as she takes a seat opposite of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as a formality though I’m sure I know the reason why.
“Can’t I just visit my friend who has been hiding in a book cave since beating Gosston’s ass?” She lifts a knowing brow, but I just shrug back.
“I’m not hiding,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest as I kick my heels up on the chair to my side. When Haylee just stares flatly at me, I groan. “Fine, I am hiding, but only until I figure out what I am going to do about Daje.”
“Why don’t you just put him out of his misery and agree to love him forever and ever until you’re both old and gray?” she sings, fluttering her hands about like this is just the greatest of suggestions.
“Haylee—”
“Bahira, come on, there are worse things than having a guy pine over you.”
I sigh, laying my hands flat on the table. “You know the reasons I can’t say yes to him. I can’t . I just don’t—”
“You love him, don’t you?” she asks almost incredulously.
“I do, but as a friend. Nothing more.”
“That could blossom into something more, Bahira! Plenty of people go from friends to lovers. You haven’t even tried to see him in that way.”
I drop my gaze from hers, because that isn’t true. I have tried. I have watched him sparring half naked and sweating, his muscles flexing as he lifts his sword in rhythmic movements. I have tried in quiet moments between just the two of us, where his mellow laugh fills the air. And I have tried in tense moments—like in the council rooms when news of Nox is sparse and my heart beats out of fear in my chest. None of those moments have ever made me feel anything for him except a deep appreciation of his friendship. But Haylee won’t understand that. So instead, I settle on something else. It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth.
“Not until I find the answers I’m looking for. Not until I fix our kingdom. Until I fix—” I hesitate, voice cracking with emotion I’d rather not express.
Haylee’s eyes relax as she takes me in, her hands reaching out to cradle one of mine. Her eyes are imploring as she says gingerly, “I know. You deserve to be happy, Bahira, and despite what you may think right now, Daje could make you happy. Just— Don’t count him out yet, okay?”
I stare at my best friend and the sympathetic look on her face. Slowly, I breathe out, nodding my head in agreement and squeezing her hand a little tighter for reassurance. Another set of footsteps sounds before the door to the veranda opens suddenly and a younger mage pops his head through, his chest rising and falling quickly.
“Your Highness?” he asks, looking around until he meets my gaze. “Your father sent me to find you. He’s just received word from Nox.”