Chapter Seven
THEA
D uring mid-meal the next day, Thea didn’t eat in the Great Hall, but rather snatched a helping of bread and cheese from the kitchens and ate alone, lest that poor serving boy be forced to bring her another overly large helping of greens.
But as she passed the hall, she spotted Wren inside.
She looked how Thea so often felt when she was being honest with herself: sad and fragile, with dark circles beneath her eyes.
Her sister sat at the table, but she wasn’t eating.
Instead, she turned a teapot over in her hands, her brow furrowed.
Not just any teapot. The Ladies’ Luncheon teapot. The assassin’s weapon Wren had designed herself.
Despite her anger, Thea couldn’t help but admire her sister. It was not the first time her ingenuity had led to the creation of such a thing, and Thea had no doubt that she had perfected it over the past few weeks.
‘Thea!’ Samra exclaimed, clapping her on the shoulder. ‘You’re coming to join us at last?’
Thea winced. ‘Uh, no, sorry, Sam,’ she replied, already backing away, ignoring the pang of guilt. She hadn’t just cut Wren out, but her other friends as well.
Ida appeared at Sam’s other side. ‘Oh, come on, Althea Nine Lives. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.’
‘She hasn’t told you?’ Thea ventured, chancing another glimpse at Wren through the doorway.
‘No, she’s told us nothing.’ Sam frowned. ‘But you have to talk to her. She’s barely slept, says she’s been having nightmares but won’t tell us what they’re about… She’s not eating much, either. Actually, you’re not looking so great yourself…’
Thea huffed a laugh. ‘Thanks.’
‘You always make up when you fight,’ Ida said gently.
‘This is different.’ Thea sighed, her chest heavy.
‘She’s still your sister.’
Thea stole another glance at Wren. They might have a point , she thought.
* * *
‘Good of you to join our practical lessons at last, Althea,’ Audra said, surveying her coolly as Thea approached her and Wren at the edge of the Plains of Orax, the Chained Islands looming just across the way. ‘You’ve fallen behind what Elwren has learnt —’
‘I don’t mind,’ Wren cut in. ‘We can start again.’
Thea bit back a retort about not needing her charity. For the first time since she’d found out about her supposed ultimatum, all didn’t feel lost. She’d wielded her magic against Hawthorne and won . Perhaps things weren’t as dire as she thought.
Thea looked to Audra, who did nothing to mask her impatience. ‘I’m not in the habit of repeating myself.’ The librarian rested her hands on the hilts of her jewelled daggers and paced a few steps. ‘So listen carefully. I will not say this again.’
Thea tensed, unsure what to expect from their stern-faced warden.
Audra met her gaze and began to speak. ‘What I know, I gleaned from my grandparents when I was younger, as well as my extensive research. My priority in these lessons first and foremost is your safety and the safety of others. I expect obedience and respect. Storm magic is fraught with risk. It is one of the most unstable magics known to us in the midrealms, one of the most unpredictable.’
‘Oh, good,’ Thea mumbled.
Audra shot her a warning look. ‘The risks are high. You, the wielder, are at risk of being controlled by the storm, of falling into its lure. You risk letting your own power out and not being able to contain it. You risk making yourself vulnerable to burning through your reserves and rendering yourself a shell —’
‘If there are so many risks, what’s the point?’ she heard herself say. ‘Especially when you made it clear that us announcing who we are to the world wouldn’t be met with celebration from the other kingdoms.’
‘The point is, Althea… that you could master it all.’
Inside her, as if in answer, Thea’s magic sparked. What if she did master it all? Her life as a Guardian of Thezmarr would be over. It would change the course of the limited years she had left.
If Audra noticed her reaction, she said nothing about it. Instead, she continued. ‘Your magic is one with the storm. You can answer the call of a storm and manipulate it, or conjure one from nothing yourself.’
That made sense. Even with her treated fate stone muting her powers, she felt the energy of the storm like it was an irremovable part of her, but so far, she had always been at its mercy, not the other way around.
‘How do we control it?’ she said quietly.
‘You find your centre,’ Audra told her. ‘You find that pocket of calm within and sink into yourself – seek the whisper of the wind, the taste of rain in the air, the pulse beyond the clouds. In order to be the master of storms, you must first become the master of yourself.’
Thea nearly groaned. She was hardly a master of anything at the moment.
‘You need to find the kernel of power within, the piece beyond the raw magic that threatens to overcome your senses. That kernel is the key to the rest of it. Understand?’
Not in the slightest , Thea thought, suppressing the urge to glance at Wren before she nodded.
‘Just as well,’ Audra said. ‘Now, let’s work on finding your calm.’
Thea heard Wren smother a laugh.
Audra had them sit on the grass at the edge of the Plains of Orax, overlooking the Chained Islands.
Thea gazed at them wistfully. The pull between the paths before her was almost physical.
Heir or Warsword. Magic or blades. Unimaginable power or a chance to outsmart her fate stone…
She had faced so much to obtain her Guardian totem; she would face far more still to acquire the Warsword symbol.
Why did she have to choose between what she had fought so hard for and who she apparently was?
Wilder’s voice echoed in her ear. ‘Who’s going to stop you?’
‘You have to focus , Althea,’ Audra reprimanded her. Obviously her magic training wasn’t faring nearly as well as her warrior side.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, turning back to her warden.
Audra led them through a mind-numbingly boring meditation, wherein Thea tried and failed to locate a supposed pocket of peace within. But as she removed her fate stone, her power barrelled into her and she seized it, letting lightning spark at her fingertips.
‘Audra,’ she murmured, looking at the forks of white light in her hands. ‘I did it.’
‘Did you find the calm I was talking about?’ the librarian asked flatly.
‘I —’
‘No, you didn’t. You forged ahead as usual. Therefore you didn’t do it. You’ve taken a shortcut. Were you to use that power at a heightened level now, you’d destroy yourself.’
The lightning snuffed out.
Sitting cross-legged beside Thea, Wren gave her an encouraging nod that only served to infuriate her further.
She turned her back to her sister and tried again. And again. And again.
Nothing.
Or worse than nothing: a glimpse of a now familiar figure.
Anya .
With her eye-patch and malnourished frame, sometimes with blood on her hands.
‘Althea. Focus,’ Audra snapped again.
‘I am focusing,’ she bit back through gritted teeth, mimicking Wren’s position as an icy wind picked up, whipping through her tangled hair and stinging her cheeks.
‘Clearly not well enough,’ Audra chided.
Wren’s hand closed around her arm. ‘Thea, just think of all the good you could do with your magic…’
Thea shook her head, closing her eyes. She tried to block Wren out and tap into the current that was constantly surging through her.
But her sister’s grip remained. ‘All I’m asking is that you think about it, Thee. As a queen, you —’
Wren gave a strangled gasp.
Thea’s eyes flew open in time to see her sister thrown bodily from her, blue lightning surging around them.
Wren landed hard a few feet away in the grass, wide-eyed, jaw slack.
‘Wren!’ Thea cried, flinging herself after her.
But Wren held up a hand, stopping her short. ‘I’m alright.’
Thea stared at her, heart pounding, noting how her sister’s eyes were lined with tears, how her hand hovered above her heart.
‘I hurt you…’ Thea murmured, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
Wren shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine —’
‘It’s not,’ Thea argued. ‘I —’
‘And that is what happens when you don’t listen, Althea,’ Audra snapped, rushing to Wren’s side and helping her up.
Deflated and hollow, Thea watched her sister, noting how she winced as she moved.
‘I’m so sorry, Wren,’ she said, her voice strained. ‘I didn’t mean to —’
Audra cleared her throat, turning both Thea and Wren towards the path that led back to the fortress. ‘That concludes today’s session.’
But Wren twisted to face Thea again. ‘Have dinner with me, Samra and Ida? Like old times? Samra’s been hoarding a stupidly large supply of wine under her bed for weeks…’
A pang of guilt hit Thea low in her gut. She’d hurt Wren, and Wren was still inviting her to dinner? But Thea still couldn’t bring herself to agree.
‘I’m not ready,’ she told her sister, no anger lacing her voice, only sadness.
Wren seemed to gather herself, blinking back those unshed tears before she nodded. ‘When you are, I’ll be here.’
Thea pulled away. ‘I know.’