Chapter 3
Three
Iskra’s right buttock was sore from switching with Esi last night.
Esi had struggled to climb up the roped sheets Iskra had thrown down to her, and it had required Bron and Iskra to heave her up as slyly as possible, which was a difficult feat.
Once Esi had made it to the other side of the balcony, she swore under her breath.
“There has to be an easier way,” Esi had mumbled as she wiped at the leaves clinging to her dress.
“I should go,” Iskra had responded, quickly taking the sheet, tying it to the balcony, and sliding down, only to land ungracefully on her backside. But sunset had been on the brink of night, and Iskra had needed to rush.
When she returned to the shop, Kryth had been waiting by the door, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Shortly after they got inside, darkness swept over the court, and Iskra’s body shifted, her fingertips and toes tingling. Back into the small cage she went.
Today, at new light, Iskra tip-toed back to the castle. Undoubtedly, Esi had left for the day, so Iskra needed to make it there before anyone noticed.
Before she’d left the shop—wearing a green lace dress, which would have suited her auburn hair better—Iskra had looked at herself in the mirror. Even if only her hair color and texture had been the features to change, she barely recognized herself.
She was weaving through the bramble in another pair of uncomfortable heels when she heard grunts and heaves.
Curious, Iskra made her way toward the noise, still in awe of the castle grounds.
Everything felt so intentional, yet she was inclined to believe the roots grew of their own volition, whatever way Goddess Slone desired.
The castle workers just ensured everything was well-kept.
On the other side of an iron-wrought gate, Prince Jasyn stood in the center of a courtyard. There was no one else in sight, but she doubted he wasn’t being watched by his guard from some veiled angle.
Iskra hunched so she could hide as she watched.
He slashed a sword against no opponent, his movements quick and light.
They flowed like the weapon was an extension of those toned, golden brown arms. She would have considered it beautiful had she not thought about why he was training.
She was ready to move along to her room when the unexpected happened.
Jasyn spun and kicked, and when he made it back around, he projected his free hand out. A sliver of light bloomed from his palm—a graceful, quiet wave of light.
Iskra gasped and stumbled in her heeled shoes, the sound of swaying leaves unforgiving. Jasyn whipped his attention in her direction, and she knew she was caught.
“Lady Esi?” His voice was hesitant, unsure, perhaps even shy.
Iskra pushed back the strand of hair that had fallen in her face and finally got the courage to move from her hiding place. She knew Bron would be livid when he heard about this.
Iskra cleared her throat as she entered the courtyard, the hinges of the gate squeaking behind her.
“Prince Jasyn,” she curtsied.
Jasyn put the sword back in its sheath at his hip. “What are you doing out so early?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“This is my home,” he countered, and she decided not to bring up how this was Esi’s home now too.
She barely knew this man, but he didn’t seem to be someone who used many words. In the quiet moment, she took him in. He was dressed in a tunic and flowy pants, clothes not particularly made for fighting and slaying.
“That’s a neat trick.” Iskra pointed to his hand.
He looked down at his palm, like he had no clue what she was talking about.
“The light. Though I don’t believe that will be helpful when it comes time to slay the dragon.”
Jasyn kept quiet, so Iskra kept talking.
“I never realized such magic existed in this court. I thought it was only flames.”
Still, nothing from him. Was he ashamed? He wasn’t even looking at her.
“This training might also be more helpful if you had an opponent,” she continued, only saying things to disturb the silence.
She was tired of the quiet. She’d spent too many years in her head.
Now that she had a reprieve, she wanted to fill the world with her words.
A whiplash of memories hit her: of being in the fields as a young girl, her mouth blabbering and her mother shushing her for some peace.
She blinked, preferring to avoid thinking too much about the past, before Kryth stole her away from her home, the brand a magicked mark on her skin cursing her to shift each night and a way to keep track of her movements.
“I like training alone,” Jasyn said.
He speaks, she thought. Still not a lot of words, but enough to keep the conversation flowing.
Esi had told her that on top of pretending to be Lady Esi, Iskra should also try to woo the prince.
This marriage was advantageous for both her and the royal family, so even though Esi had wanted a small sliver of freedom before marriage, she was committed to making this work when the time came.
“You're very good with that sword,” Iskra praised in hopes of him responding. Esi had mentioned men thrived on compliments.
“Is—” He swallowed. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He was nervous. He had seemed confident yesterday, but perhaps that was just a show for his parents. Or maybe it was something deeper.
“To answer your earlier question, I’m out this early because of the freedom.”
“Freedom?”
Iskra nodded. “I’m sure you must know what it’s like to be duty-bound, how it can feel like a cage. I’ve been in my own cage my whole life. It’s freeing to be outside it.”
That was a light way of describing her current situation.
“I’ve been lucky enough to have a key to my cage. My siblings were the ones stuck inside theirs,” Jasyn explained.
She dipped her head. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”
And yet, Iskra felt like it was.
He sighed looking down at his hand. “My power is unique, and it would be wise you keep it to yourself.”
“Was that a threat?”
Jasyn snorted, and his nose crinkled. She wondered how he would look if he fully and freely laughed. It must be a contagious sight, because although he seemed to shrink into himself, there was still something composed and regal about his presence. He captured her attention and held it.
“I don’t think it would go well for me if I threatened my future wife. It was only a suggestion.”
“It’s beautiful. I don’t know why you would want to hide it.”
A warm gust of wind blew, and Iskra’s skirt billowed while her hair attacked her face.
She went to brush it back from her lips, but Jasyn was there, pushing it away before she could.
Usually, the sudden contact would cause her to flinch, but something about Jasyn only calmed her.
She blinked her amber eyes at him, and her heart stuttered at his solemnity.
“My power is not what it has once been.” His voice was raw, pained. She could tell he was uncomfortable. Yet, she didn’t want this conversation to end. There was something so normal about talking to him, even if he was a prince.
“Do you do everything alone?” she asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation.
“Most things. Sometimes with Mych, but he’s usually busy being a guard.”
Iskra snorted. A colorful butterfly flitted past her and landed directly on Jasyn's shoulder.
He must have noticed her longing expression, because he asked, “Do you ever get out?”
“Not often.” She smiled sadly. She didn’t know if she should be this vocal about the isolation she had personally experienced. After all, Lady Esi no doubt lived a life filled with parties and other social responsibilities.
“We can change that. I can change that.”
Iskra raised her brows. “What do you get out of it?”
“Getting to know my future wife like I promised I would yesterday.”
“Right…”
She liked the sound of it, but in practice, she feared what it would do to her when it came time to leave this all behind. This luxurious life would spoil her, but it was an opportunity to experience something new before it all ended, and she would claim it.
“Let’s do it,” she said more confidently, right as the butterfly flew away. “Maybe we’ll even find you some new friends. A king must have allies in his court.”
“I’ll have you and your family’s side,” he reminded her.
“Of course, but this court is larger than me and you. I’m ready to see it and for you to embrace it.”
He nodded, as if he could find no other argument against her statement. “To learning about each other as we learn about the court we will rule together, then.”
He extended his hand, and this time, Iskra didn’t hesitate as she took it. He smiled at her, and Iskra’s breath hitched at the sight. Right then, she promised herself not to get attached to the man in front of her. It would only break her when she had to let this all go.
Dirt was caught beneath Jasyn’s nails. The afternoon sun blazed heat on his back, but it never bothered him. Perhaps the sun recognized the innate light within Jasyn, how they were one and the same, despite how death and grief had stolen the core of his full potential.
Jasyn heard the rumble of wheels before he saw his father.
“Another day with your plants?” his father asked, and although he meant it in a teasing manner, it grated on Jasyn’s nerves. “What have they told you today?”
It was an ongoing joke, one started by Jaymes, his oldest sibling. When Jasyn was a child, he would talk animatedly to the plants. Every night at dinner, Jaymes would ask what the plants told him.
“Is there something I can do for you?” This was the second time in one day someone had disturbed him.
His days had been a lot quieter with his siblings now dead, and he had grown accustomed to that silence.
He had liked when Lady Esi had appeared, though.
Their conversation had been vulnerable, and he saw a potential of a future with her, which was both relieving and terrifying.
His father pushed the wheelchair over so he had a view of what Jasyn had been working on. The small pile of weeds didn’t scream interesting.
“I heard you had a visitor during training.”
Jasyn swallowed; he should have known word would have spread about his encounter with Lady Esi. “Yes.”
“Does she know about your light?”
“Yes.”
His father sighed deeply. His parents had kept his power a secret since he was a babe.
He was only a few months old when he shined so brightly, his mother almost dropped him.
They weren’t ashamed of Jasyn’s power, but they feared the court wouldn’t take him seriously since he didn’t have fire.
The light that poured from his hands was like sunlight, blinding and bright—though more dim now.
It was different from the powers of the lightning court, the electricity that buzzed with energy.
“She’s to be my wife. I think she has a right to know,” Jasyn explained.
“I still would have preferred waiting until the marriage was sealed.”
“She doesn’t seem turned off by it.”
“No?”
“She seemed intrigued,” Jasyn continued.
He wanted to tell his father they already had a deal to spend more time together.
Jaymes and Dahlia would be proud of him; as much as they joked about how the plants were Jasyn’s only friends, they were genuinely concerned he would never be able to lead because he didn’t have the charm.
He hoped spending time with Esi would help him gain confidence.
“You still have a lot of training ahead of you,” his father said seriously. “Without fire, you’ll be relying on your sword more to slay that beast and win us the Undertaking.”
Jasyn tried not to roll his eyes. “I’m aware.”
“As evidenced by where I sit, that’s not an easy feat, but it’s not impossible.”
When his father watched Jaymes die during the Undertaking—the one his father had hoped would have crowned his eldest son as king—his father had stepped up and started training more.
He wanted to compete in the Undertaking using only his sword to see if Jasyn had a chance of winning in case Dahlia didn’t survive.
His father had won the Undertaking after doing exactly that.
Two years after Jaymes’ death, Dahlia entered the Undertaking along with their father, and she died while King Aleks prevailed.
He had been so badly injured, his legs no longer moved; this family’s legacy only continued because other competitors decided to offer a helping hand to his father out of loyalty to the throne.
Now, it was up to Jasyn. Unlike his siblings, his father wouldn’t be competing alongside him as back up.
“I’m ready to slay the dragon and win this family the crown again.”
His father patted his arm. “Good. I expect nothing less.”