Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Nova
I couldn’t stop thinking about last night.
I hated Aleksander for invading my thoughts so thoroughly. I wanted him out of my head. Wanted to be able to focus on my magic, alone, to pretend nothing had happened between me and him, to never think about his smirking face; or his bare, sculpted abdomen; or his stupid, beautiful laugh ever, ever again.
And yet, I also hated that he hadn’t been beside me when I woke up.
The conflicting emotions had been waging a war through me all morning long. My head ached. My stomach twisted. My steps had grown increasingly clumsy as the hours went on.
“You seem distracted, Highness.”
Stop calling me that, I almost snarled.
But I bit my tongue, knowing it would do no good; the young man before me insisted on referring to me as his queen, even though I’d yet to officially pick up the crown of this kingdom.
Eamon Ashmore was his name, and he was the older brother of Red. He was a talented magic user—even more-so than Thalia. We’d spent the past several mornings together, and the time had been surprisingly pleasant in spite of the challenging trainings; his positive demeanor was a refreshing change from Thalia’s near-permanent scowl.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, attempting to smooth some of the sharpness from my tone. He wasn’t the one I was truly frustrated with, after all. “Let’s go again. I need as much practice as I can get at this.”
We were focusing on the same thing we’d been focused on every morning before this one: On more precisely forming, and better controlling, the shadows within me.
Shadows that I’d cursed and feared for most of my life. Shadows that were made of the very same kind of power and energy that made up this twilight world I was allegedly meant to save. I was Noctaris. Noctaris was me. This was what it meant to be one of the Vaelora. And my potential power was as vast as the world itself—
Or so Eamon claimed, anyway.
As for him, he was similar to Thalia in his abilities: able to pull from and manipulate existing magical energies, but not conjure anything into existence. One of the feyth —beings who were apparently a step below the Aetherkin like Orin, power-wise. The term necromancer , I had learned, was a collective one that encompassed all these different tiers of beings who could in some way channel the dark energies of Noctaris.
The luxmancers were on the opposite side of the spectrum, able to forge Light magic from the energy of Soltaris. They had different levels of beings as well, but I still couldn’t figure out precisely where Aleks fell on this ladder. How he was able to conjure up such powerful magic, despite being in this world where there was so little of its aligned energy to work with. Or how—
No.
No, it didn’t matter; I wasn’t thinking about him right now. I had magic of my own to worry about.
I drew my shoulders back and fixed Eamon with a determined look.
“Again,” he agreed with his good-natured smile. “As you wish.”
It was deceptive—that smile of his—given the amount of power and dangerous skill hiding within his lanky frame. He could pull shadows from nearly everything around him, it seemed, and control them with an astounding amount of precision and force. During our first training session, I’d been entirely caught off guard by his youthful, easygoing appearance—and had promptly gotten knocked on my ass, over and over again, because of it.
I set my stance, determined not to let that happen again.
Closing my eyes, I continued to inhale and exhale as calmly as I could while picturing the darkness flowing through my veins. Trying not to fear that darkness, but to give shape to it. To call upon it.
When I opened my eyes, multiple shadowy ropes twisted around me like serpents ready to do my bidding. Already, I had made some progress during these sessions—the threads of my shadows didn’t lash out quite as wildly as they once had, even here in this space where Calista’s lingering magic fed into their power.
I took another deep breath.
With small movements of my hands and twitches of my fingers—following the techniques Eamon had shown me—I started to work. We’d set up targets across the training ground, and, one after the other, I unraveled my pack of shadowy serpents and sent them curling up, over, and through these targets.
It was excruciatingly difficult, even with the progress I’d made. They were more contained compared to the past, but the darkness still resisted being directed; it felt like trying to adjust a dozen different sails at once, all while battling a storm-tossed sea. My balance swayed and my arms ached. Sweat dotted my forehead, dripping into my eyes.
Red—whose true name was Brynn, I’d learned from Eamon—watched from the edge of the training yard, one hand absently rubbing Phantom’s belly. Her gaze was wide as it followed me and the shadows, little gasps escaping her every time I managed to successfully hit a target. Her brother regarded me with a similar, reverent kind of interest. I tried to soak up their enthusiasm, letting it chase away some of my foul, frustrated mood.
Stop thinking about Aleksander , I commanded myself fiercely. You have bigger problems .
If I was going to raise an army worthy of marching into Nerithys and dealing with the Aetherstone, I had to be able to direct these shadows as if they were an extension of my own body. This was the first part of the grander plan we were working on: Guiding my magic—the very lifeblood of Noctaris—into a ghostly army of shades with a precise hand. Reviving those shades. Then, there was the matter of sustaining their revival. Bastian, Thalia, and a few others were working on siphoning and refining some of Luminor’s power into a smaller weapon, creating something that I could safely wield. Searching, as Aleksander had predicted, for some way to balance out my powers without relying on him.
Stop thinking about Aleksander , I ordered myself.
Again.
Giving my head a hard shake, I sent the last strand of my shadows into the final remaining target. They all hovered above their respective marks, darkening the light filtering down from a glowing, periwinkle sky.
“To me,” Eamon commanded.
I brought the separated strands back together into one churning mass. Widening my stance, bracing myself, I stretched my fingers forward, sending the mass firing toward Eamon with the motion.
He halted it in mid-air with rapid, exact gestures of his hands, twisting it a few times above him and studying the billowing black cloud before lowering his gaze to me.
“Now,” he said with an encouraging smile and a challenging gleam in his bright eyes, “bring it back into you.”
My heart skipped several beats. This was always the most difficult part—trying to settle the shadows back inside after they’d been given a taste of the world at large.
I beckoned. The tumbling ball rolled quickly toward me. Too quickly. It slammed into my chest like a pouncing beast, and the collected shadows threatened to unravel. They always felt like they were at their most sentient during this part of the training—resisting my command to return, trying to assert their dominance over me.
It was violent and messy, but I ultimately managed to draw them in with only a few new bruises on my arms and chest to show for it.
As they settled back inside of me, my weight felt like it was doubling. I staggered for a few steps before dropping to one knee. My balance teetered further. I was on my back before I even realized I was falling, pain shooting down my spine and dots dancing in my vision. The sky rushed overhead, a canvas that someone had recklessly dumped paint onto—a messy swirl of purples and blues and whites.
Eamon was leaning over me a moment later. “You were brilliant, Highness.”
I felt like I was cracking into a thousand pieces, but I forced a smile as I sat up, trying to catch my breath and stay upright despite my dizziness. “If you say so.”
( I thought you were astoundingly average, ) Phantom informed me from his place at Brynn’s side.
“Thank you for that,” I muttered, knowing that his sensitive hearing would still be able to pick up my words, even from a distance.
He responded with a yawn, and then burrowed himself into Brynn’s arms, nibbling on the buttons of her dress and making her giggle.
Eamon beamed at me for a moment more before walking over and grabbing a drink from the canteen he’d left beside his sister. A thoughtful expression settled onto his boyish face as he drank, wiping the sweat from his forehead and surveying the targets across the grounds. They were still mostly intact—evidence that I was getting better; my first attempts had resulted in my over-eager shadows obliterating several of them.
Despite all my progress, however, it still didn’t feel like enough. The days were moving too fast. The amount of hopeful eyes watching me increased by the hour, the weight of their growing expectations piling onto my shoulders. And targets were one thing, but the shades—the people —were another. If my shadows moved too recklessly against them…
Eamon strode back to me, offering me my own canteen, and asked, “Shall we go once more?”
I stood on wobbly legs, taking the water and sipping it slowly, trying not to think about the chance of my darkness doing more harm than good. Images of the damage I’d done on the night of my birthday continued to haunt me, even now. And in spite of how desperately I needed practice, I didn’t think my mind was going to cooperate.
“…I might need a break,” I admitted, reluctantly.
Eamon looked as though he was considering sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to safety before my dizziness could get the better of me. But before he had a chance to do anything of the sort, I stiffly made my way over to a bench on the edge of the yard.
He followed dutifully. “May I take you to lunch?”
“I’m not really hungry at the moment, but thank you.”
His grin never faltered. “Next time, then. I’ll be looking forward to it.” He gathered up his things and turned toward his sister. Glancing over his shoulder at me, he added, “And you truly were brilliant—an honor to practice alongside. We’ll be moving on to practicing with Grimnor, and the full expanse of your power, in no time at all, I’m certain.”
I tried for another polite smile, even as my heart sank at the thought of that sword of legend. It remained in its chamber, alongside Luminor. Safe. Protected. And it was so incredibly tempting to keep it there.
My brother had assured me I could take it out and practice with it whenever I was ready to do so. But, despite his insistence and Eamon’s endless votes of confidence, I didn’t feel anywhere near ready.
I wasn’t sure I ever would.
Eamon went to his little sister and swooped her up in his arms. They looked incredibly similar; the same stunningly green eyes; the lean, bordering on lanky, frame; the same slightly lopsided grin. His hair was more blond than red, but just as unruly. Brynn gave me one of her shy waves, and Eamon mirrored her, offering one last smile before turning away for good.
As they left, Brynn happily perched on her brother’s shoulders, Phantom trotted over to me, settling down at my feet. ( He likes you a lot, doesn’t he? )
“He’s merely grateful to me for bringing his sister back, he’s said.”
( It seems like more than that .)
“He’s not really my type. Much too cheerful—even for me.”
( You prefer grumpy types? )
“Yes; it’s why I’m so fond of you,” I replied, patting him on the head.
He growled, yet nuzzled his head more completely into my palm. ( How many times has he asked you to lunch, now? )
I exhaled a slow breath. Eamon seemed sweet. Harmless enough, too—his dangerously impressive command of dark energies aside. But I wasn’t interested; I was still too busy trying to get a certain Light King out of my mind.
My jaw clenched, my hand stilled, and Phantom cocked his head to the side and asked, ( Do you want me to bite his legs off? )
I snorted. “What is it with you and wanting to bite the legs off of the people in this palace?”
( I don’t know, ) he replied, dropping to his stomach and rolling back and forth in the dirt. ( I’m getting bored here .)
“Would you like to venture back out into the unprotected Deadlands instead?”
He whined at the suggestion.
“Exactly. Personally, I think we’re overdue for a little boredom in our lives.”
He didn’t disagree.
“Although, somehow, I don’t think we’re going to get it,” I added—and, right on cue, I noticed Thalia approaching us.
We’d worked together enough over the last few days that I felt as though she was starting to warm up to me—as much as I’d seen her warm up to anybody, anyway. Her scowl was less intimidating, somehow, and there was even a hint of concern in her eyes as she looked me over.
“Still in one piece?” she asked.
“Despite Eamon’s best efforts to ensure otherwise.”
The comment made the corners of her mouth twitch, maybe with the beginnings of a smile. “Good,” she said. “Because I have a plan for us this afternoon, if you’re up for it.”
I sat up a little straighter on the bench, trying not to reveal my true exhaustion to her.
“Your brother suggested I show you more of our kingdom,” she told me. “There’s one place in particular I wanted to take you—one that we’ll have to navigate on the day of Equinox and…well, it will be easier to explain at the location itself.”
Despite my tiredness, I couldn’t help but perk up at the thought of learning more about the world I was apparently destined to save. So, I agreed, heading to my room to change and otherwise clean myself up.
When I opened the door, Aveline was there, busily directing servants to change linens, dust furniture, and fluff pillows. Everything had already seemed perfectly clean when I’d left this morning, but I’d learned not to question her about these things.
She wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug. I didn’t mind; her embraces always felt genuine. She smelled like a comforting blend of rosewater and freshly-pressed linens, with an occasional hint of spice and sugar if she’d been baking—which was the case today. Warmth radiated from her soft, plump body, and I felt as if I could have melted into her and been entirely safe…like I’d known her for much longer than a week.
As soon as I told her of my plans for the afternoon, she helped me change, conjuring up a beautiful outfit consisting of a knee-length, dark blue dress made of the softest fabric imaginable, paired with a gold-trimmed coat and comfortable walking boots. It was a far different kind of magic than anything I possessed, this ability of hers to always put me in such perfect, flattering attire.
“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the stool before the mirrored vanity.
I was eager to get back to Thalia, but I still sat.
Before arriving at this palace, it had been some time since I’d been fussed over like this. I’d never admitted it to Aveline or anyone else—and likely never would—but a part of me had missed my days of extravagant dresses and hairstyles, even though I hadn’t been overly fond of such things when I was younger. I guess it was true that you didn’t often realize what you had until it was gone.
“You have your mother’s hair,” Aveline commented under her breath as she tugged and twisted at the strands, attempting to braid them. “Beautiful but wild.”
I tensed, gripping the plush cushion beneath me. She clearly meant my real mother—but the word mother still made me think of the Queen of Eldris.
Another thing I’d taken for granted for so many years.
It was difficult to imagine that there had ever been another in her place, but curiosity made me ask, “What happened to that real mother of mine?”
Aveline didn’t answer right away. I watched her in the mirror, her eyes scrunching and her lips pursing as she struggled to find words. “Most who give birth to one of the Vaelora don’t live to tell the tale. Your mother was no exception.”
“And my father?”
Another long pause, during which her hands became uncharacteristically clumsy as they continued to comb through my dark, wild locks.
“Aveline?”
“...I don’t know. The King of Rivenholt died long before you were born. No one knows who laid with Queen Isolde after him; she never revealed his identity—not even on her deathbed.”
My fists clenched tighter into the velvet cushion.
“If you had a father who loved you in the Above, as I understand you did, then I’d consider him your true parent and not worry about the rest.”
I did consider him my true father, even now that he’d been gone for years. Even knowing he shared no blood with me. He was still the one who had raised me, doing everything he could to protect me.
And he’d ended up dead because of it.
The mysterious circumstances surrounding his murder still needed solving, but one fact now seemed clear and undeniable: If he hadn’t been harboring me in his palace, he wouldn’t have ended up on the wrong end of Luminor’s blade.
The one I considered my true mother would not be frozen in that palace, either, a victim of my out-of-control power. Because Orin had clearly lied about this, too—he’d tried to convince me that all the things that had happened on the night of my birthday were not my fault.
But so much of it was .
I had ripped open the earth. The darkness from Below had surged into the Above world because it was trying to get to me.
And now the only way to save the one I called Mother was for me to somehow balance and breathe life into Noctaris once more. Bastian was convinced that doing so would settle those restless shadows at Rose Point, allowing the victims there to break free of their curse.
But what if I couldn’t do it?
A numbness overtook my body. Aveline seemed to notice; her head came to rest on top of mine, her arms encircling me in a gentle embrace. Pulling back a moment later, she carefully stroked my hair, pinning it away from my face with a golden, orchid-shaped pin.
“You look beautiful, my lady.”
I managed a small smile despite the aching pain in my heart. “Thank you.”
My vision was blurry. I couldn’t make out my reflection through the emotion swelling my eyes, but I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt like a monster who brought death and darkness wherever I roamed—one who had done so from the second I’d been born, apparently.
Had my true mother even had a chance to know my face before my shadows swallowed her up? What about my brother’s? Had she heard my voice? Or his? Was she the one who had given us our names?
What if I ended up responsible for the deaths of both my mothers?
They were heavy questions. And I understood why Orin had tried to protect me from their weight. But that didn’t make me any less angry about it.
All those years spent feeling like I didn’t belong in the Above, and nobody had bothered to tell me why . I hadn’t understood my magic, so I had grown to fear it.
And now I wasn’t sure how to shake the grip of that fear from my heart.
More desperate than ever for answers, I hugged Aveline goodbye and hurried back to Thalia, who had stayed behind at the training grounds. Phantom was curled up under the bench, snoring loudly. I nudged him with my boot. He woke with a disgruntled little growl, but quickly shook off his irritation and grew excited at the chance to stretch his legs and run somewhere outside of the palace.
While Thalia went to the stables to collect Uldrin, I took Phantom up on his offer to shift into his horse-like form and carry me; I felt safer on his back than I would on any other mount.
We rode for what felt like close to an hour. Far beyond the palace grounds, through the glittering royal city of Tarnath, back into the unprotected Deadlands beyond it all. The farther we traveled from Tarnath, the darker the sky became. The trees grew more and more bare; the ground, more dusty. The air became thick with the acrid stench of sulfur, mixed with the faint, metallic tang of something like blood.
Even knowing the truth about what this place was, it still felt like descending into Hell all over again.
“My kingdom,” I whispered under my breath, over and over—a reminder. “ My kingdom …”
This was my kingdom, and I could still save it.