Chapter 17
Elara
Elara pricked her finger again with her goose-feather quill.
A single drop of blood fell to the page of her open journal before the tiny wound closed itself.
“Stars,” she muttered. Despite her progress with combat training, her body’s self-healing continued to betray her efforts to control her ability.
She had spent what felt like ages hunched over her journal and a stack of tomes. She rubbed her hand over the tense muscles in her neck. Dozens of pages in her journal were now filled with notes—and several drops of blood from practicing with her quill—but she found the studying futile.
Caelan had tasked her with researching the history of the various essence affinities. Elara needed to find answers soon or risk discovery. If her family’s political allies knew she was a Serathi, it would put the Evensongs’ tenuous hold on the throne in jeopardy.
She could almost hear the voices creep out of the woodwork, reacting to the news.
Liars.
Traitors.
The words hissed into her mind. Her healing essence was unknown and therefore dangerous to them.
Elara closed her ancient leather-bound book, sending a puff of dry gray dust motes dancing before her.
She rubbed her eyes and rested her chin on her hand.
The last story had detailed a heroine famed for performing miracles to save women who otherwise would have died in childbirth.
Elara imagined the potential. If she could figure out how to harness her own power, in generations to come, it could be possible for a Serathi to use their affinity to heal others.
The idea was both exciting and terrifying.
Elara ground her teeth. What she’d just spent the last several hours reading was impressive, but also akin to fairy tales.
Stories of mystics, druids, and prophets.
Old gods and goddesses, deities that few, if any, still worshiped.
Each book she read, every new scroll she unfurled, provided no clues about mastering her powers, the source of essence, or the reason for its abrupt manifestation in her.
She’d even looked for her birth records to identify the last Serathi in her family tree.
Nothing. No mention of the Cygnet Moon anywhere either.
Her current leading theory was that her power had something to do with the attack, shocking her system into waking the long-dormant ability within her.
Training, research, and occasionally promenading around the palace grounds with Caelan had left Elara exhausted.
Still, she had plenty of time to think, but not enough pleasant thoughts to fill the open spaces within her mind.
The fragile hope of a brighter tomorrow was all she had, but even that waned with each passing day, leaving her weary and heavyhearted.
Despair over her family’s absence gnawed at her, a persistent ache that grew ever stronger, threatening to consume her.
She had to give her mind something fun to play with before it started playing with her.
In a way, it already was. Between the nightmares and her tenuous alliance with Caelan, she was losing touch with reality.
Caelan. Their attraction was real enough.
And his intentions toward helping her seemed genuine.
Until he’d showed up intoxicated at the festival.
Goose bumps prickled on her forearms as she recalled her conversation with the fortune teller at the festival a few days ago.
It had taken every ounce of her self-control to pull herself together at the festival to hide the revelation from Caelan and other prying eyes.
Hot anger replaced the chill, and she snapped the fragile quill in half.
She sighed as she opened her palm and watched the crushed feather float onto the marble-topped desk.
Not surprising for a sheltered princess.
Those words haunted her, hurting considerably, given that she had been so vulnerable in asking for his help.
Thankfully, their training sessions had been productive since then, and he hadn’t criticized her performance again, which protected her fragile ego.
What will happen when I free my family? Can I trust him then, when I don’t even trust him now?
Her thoughts were racing again. She pushed her notes aside and stood, deciding to wander the aisles between the bookshelves for a while.
Moving her body helped her process. Frequent exercise was probably the only thing keeping her as sane as she was.
Elara questioned everyone and everything around her, but she was also building faith in her own abilities.
She felt her body getting stronger. Her mind was sharper, and she felt more grounded when she was training.
Her healing ability was growing too. She healed herself faster and with less energy, leaving her feeling less drained than before.
But she still hadn’t figured out how to prevent herself from healing unintentionally.
She needed someone she could trust. A friend of her family who would do anything for them. Inspiration struck.
Elara abandoned her stacks of books and rushed out of the library, her shadows on her heel.
After making her way down the stone stairs to the lowest level of the palace—and convincing Felix and Silas to wait outside—Elara knocked on the door to the infirmary.
It swung open at her touch with an eerie creak, and she peered into the room.
Cool, damp air flowed over her skin. Lanterns lit the room well despite the lack of windows.
The exposed stone walls were lined with shelves holding jars and bottles, ingredients for medicines and poultices.
At a wide maple table in the center of the room, Ursa worked a pestle into a mortar filled with bitter-smelling herbs.
The royal physician glanced up and smiled, creases fanning out from her eyes, when she beheld Elara lingering in the doorway. “Elara! It’s so good to see you again!” She placed her work to the side and bustled over to envelop Elara in a warm embrace.
Elara wrapped her arms around Ursa, feeling the thick plait—made up of dozens of thinner braids—that fell to the woman’s substantial waist. Ursa had been caring for the royal family for as long as Elara could remember—since before her own birth.
She smiled as they parted. “It’s good to see you too. ”
“It’s been a while—not including the tournament,” Ursa said. “What business does a princess have for calling on little old me? Take a seat, child, and tell me what’s on your mind.” Ursa gestured to a stool under the table and started a pot of tea in the corner.
“I . . . I want to tell you why I haven’t had need of your talents lately.” Elara watched Ursa fiddle with the teacups and saucers. She took a deep breath. “I’ve recently discovered that I have an essence affinity.”
“You are a Serathi—you can heal,” Ursa said, pouring boiling water into the porcelain to let the jasmine tea steep.
“Yes.” Elara tensed, unnerved by Ursa’s calm. “How did you know?”
A small smile tugged at Ursa’s lips. “It wasn’t hard to guess. I’m just thrilled that there is still some essence in the royal bloodline after all these years.”
“Please don’t tell anyone!” Elara’s fingers curled into fists.
“Of course not, child! I was there when you were born, and I have cared for you all this time. I will keep your secret safe, for I know it is a dear one.”
The room filled with the sweet floral scent of jasmine, which chased away the bitter smell of herbs, soothing Elara’s troubled soul.
“Thank you, Ursa.” Elara let out a deep sigh of relief. “I need your help.”
Ursa sat on another low stool across from Elara, nodding fervently.
“What do you know about Lord Stormrider?” Elara asked.
Ursa sipped her tea, thinking for a beat before answering. “I know he is here, with his army and his son, and that his intentions toward you are ill.”
“How?” Elara’s heart raced. Ursa was the first person in the palace to acknowledge the truth. Everyone else—Iris, all the other servants, the courtiers—had been blissfully ignorant since Lord Stormrider’s arrival. At least on the surface.
“I’ve worked in this palace for decades. You think I wouldn’t notice that the king’s guards have all been replaced, or, worse, don’t remember who they are? I knew you would come to me when you were ready. What has he done to you?” Ursa asked.
Elara fought back tears as she told Ursa what had happened with her family, with Caelan, with her essence affinity. As she wove her sorrowful tale, Ursa went from leaning forward on the edge of her stool to draping a thick blanket over Elara, offering whatever comfort she could.
When Elara finished, she could no longer dam up her feelings of overwhelm and frustration. Hot tears streamed down her face as Ursa held her close, a comforting weight against her shaking body.
All the times she had cried before, she’d been utterly alone.
Now she had an ally—a real and steadfast friend—that she could trust. The relief that washed over her raw soul was soothing, a balm to her wounded spirit, like a gentle hand on a fevered brow.
Elara had come to Ursa to learn more about healing the human body, but she was getting more healing for herself than she had bargained for—the kind of healing not even her magic could achieve.
Elara composed herself after what felt like hours, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve and clearing her throat.
“Ursa, will you train me as your apprentice? I want to learn about your healing methods so that I might understand my magic better, to control it, and maybe one day even put it to use healing others. Do you think that might be possible?”
“My dear, you have unlocked an essence affinity that has been dormant for generations. I believe that anything is possible.”
The next morning, Caelan escorted Elara to the infirmary for her first healing lesson with Ursa.
“What did you tell my guards?” she asked.
Caelan shrugged. “The same thing I’ve been telling them when we’re training.”
“Which is?”
He smirked. “What do you think might occupy my time with a beautiful woman?”
Elara scoffed. “For that many hours?”
“You have no idea, Princess.” He opened the door for her with a flourish. “Have fun.”
Elara’s neck and cheeks burned as she turned to watch him saunter away, and the heavy door creaked shut behind her.
Ursa cleared her throat, making Elara jump. “Ready?” Ursa asked, holding out a freshly pressed apron.
Elara took it and looped it over her head before tying the strings in a neat bow across her lower back. Her fingers were itching to begin grinding herbs and mixing potions. “I suppose we’ll find out together, won’t we?”
“Tell me what you’ve learned so far about your essence affinity,” Ursa said. She busied herself by lining up several glass bottles, the one currently in her grip glowing a bright blue.
“Well, cuts and scrapes heal almost instantly. Deeper bruises take a little longer and leave me tired.” Elara sidled up next to Ursa. “I just wish I could control it.”
Ursa stilled. “How did you find out? Where did you get those injuries?”
“Caelan has been teaching me how to fight. To defend myself.” Elara didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt self-conscious under Ursa’s discerning gaze.
“Good. What else?”
“I haven’t been sick—”
“So, no infections? Did you clean your wounds before they healed?”
Elara shook her head. “It happens too fast.”
Ursa pursed her lips. “My potions do the same—address and prevent any infection—for wounds. I would recommend removing any debris larger than a splinter though. Any broken bones?”
Elara’s eyes widened. “Stars above, no! At least, not yet. Certainly not intentionally. I still feel pain as I did before.”
The idea of testing that limit made her uneasy despite knowing it would be beneficial. An icy dread washed over her. She’d discuss it with Caelan later.
“If you do, make sure you set the bone properly before your essence heals the break. My grandmother once healed a boy’s broken leg with a potion without a sure set—the poor thing hobbles on it to this day.”
The blood drained from Elara’s face. “How do your potions work?”
Ursa pulled an enormous leather-bound book from a nearby shelf.
She placed it on the table with a loud thud.
Elara leaned forward as Ursa’s weathered fingers pried it open.
“This grimoire has been in my family for hundreds of years. Most of these are natural remedies with herbs. But a few of them, like the one I made for Captain Stormrider at the tournament, rely on a special ingredient.”
“Blood,” Elara recalled, shivering. “Why?”
“Essence is in the blood. While most of us don’t have enough of it to manifest as magic, every living being is blessed with it.”
“I read a story about an ancient Serathi who could heal others with her essence affinity without a potion. How is that possible?”
“That I do not know. But mastering the art of potions is a good first step if healing others is your goal. Let’s start with a simple one—a sleeping remedy.” Ursa licked her finger and flipped through the thin pages of the grimoire until she found the recipe she was looking for.
Perfect, Elara thought, brushing her fingers over the dark shadows under her eyes. I could use a good night’s rest.