9. Esmira
ESMIRA
A blood curling scream jerked me out of sleep. I sat straight up, heart racing. Darkness enveloped me and thick blankets twisted around my legs. The fire had burned out but the glow of embers hovered, like sinister eyes watching me.
The scream came again, followed by a growl and then the sound of teeth ripping flesh. I leaped out of bed, almost falling as I fumbled for the door. The horrific sounds grew louder, closer as I stumbled into the hall, hoping the sconces were still lit.
They were.
Pale light illuminated the hall, but my relief was short-lived as I slammed into a hard chest. Hands grabbed my shoulders to steady me and I looked up.
At Methrin.
He was half dressed, hair rumpled, shadows dancing across his cheeks. “Esmira. Are you . . . ”
“I heard beasts fighting, something is out there,” I blurted.
His grip tightened on my shoulders. “Nothing can get in here. We are safe.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but my mind caught me before words escaped. I believed him. We were safe. “How?” I asked instead. The cries were so near, so vicious.
“Magic. The castle is warded.”
Another cry came, and I stiffened, moving closer to Methrin.
“You’re still afraid,” he said, studying me.
His hands were still on my shoulders and slowly I became aware of our proximity. The nightgown Lyra had given me was practically sheer, and even though the light was dim, Prince Methrin looked at me as though—no. I could not name the look on his face.
His fingertips brushed my cheek with a gentleness I wasn’t aware he possessed. “Would you like a distraction?”
I swallowed hard, mouth dry, unsure what he might be implying.
“The halls are drafty, if you grab a blanket, slippers, I’ll show you it’s history.”
“Oh.” Giddy relief rushed over me and I stepped back inside, tossing a shawl over my shoulders before rejoining Methrin.
There was something different about him. An ease. And it occurred to me that those were the most words he’d put together that didn’t come out sounding arrogant or distant. His quiet presence was reassuring, even though he was my enemy.
I fell in step beside him, an irritating thought prodding the back of my mind.
A wicked prince should be cruel, merciless and ruthless, especially to a princess, the daughter of a rival king no less.
But Methrin didn’t look at me the way the Captain of the Venators did, nor did he treat me as though I were less than because I had magic.
I began to suspect the stories I’d been told in my father’s kingdom were full of lies, leading me to question who were the Everminati?
More importantly, who was the man who walked beside me and why was he called a prince, not a king?
Methrin had gone silent on me again, as though he’d used up his allotment of words. Questions burned in the back of my mouth but I wasn’t brave enough to ask them, so I settled for a safe question. “What is this place?” I whispered.
“This is Castle Isoule named for Seer Isoule. She originally built it as a sanctuary for those displaced by magic. Legend holds she touched every rock before it was placed, blessing it with magic, weaving a spell of secrecy into the foundations.”
“Why did she build a sanctuary? Were those with magic being persecuted?”
Methrin led the way down the stairs, pausing when we reached the bottom floor to navigate behind the staircase.
An arched door was cracked open, leading into a hollow darkness.
The sounds of the night faded as Methrin picked up one of the flickering torches and led the way inside.
The earthly scent of wax and florals impregnated the air.
“Seer Isoule believed those with magic needed training, encouragement to use it properly, so she built this place to help them learn, grow, to protect them.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“No, her legacy has long been forgotten by those who don’t have magic.”
Methrin touched the torch down on something and a ring of fire rose around the room, illuminating the area.
The leaping flames calmed almost instantly into a steady light, revealing a small room.
At the back was a set of three stone stairs and at the top of them stood a statue of a woman.
She looked down at her feet where a ring of candles and flower petals surrounded her.
One stone hand was outstretched as though to touch or bless them.
Flower beds rimmed the edges of the walls and great bushes of a dark purple flower flourished, even though there was no way for sunlight to penetrate the inner room. My fingers tingled, as though they recognized her and the bud of magic within threatened to unfurl.
The rest of the room was open space, but the stones on the floor were an intricate design of alternating carvings and paintings. It was too dark to see the design that linked them all together, but I had a sudden vision of life, energy and nature all combined into one impossible force.
“What is this place?” I whispered, for raising my voice in this sacred space felt inappropriate .
“This is where she taught,” Methrin said, lowering himself down in front of the statue.
He gathered a handful of the fallen petals and let them drift from his fingers like an offering of remembrance.
“She was the first to teach magic, to help those who discovered it achieve their full purpose and passion.”
Purpose. It stirred the ache within, the desire to find the place I fit in the world.
I watched the curve of Methrin’s back, the reverent tilt of his head as he sat, gleaning wisdom from the silence.
“Did you know her?” I asked at last, pondering the years of his life. All this time and I still didn’t know the prince I’d traveled with. But I wanted to. Not the legends, not the stories but his truth told from his lips .
Lyra was light and laughter, friendship like I’d never known. But Methrin—Methrin was a depth of mystery shrouded in shadows and lies. Wicked. Forbidden. Dangerous. Immortal?
In the stillness a desire rose but I didn’t dare let it form.
“No.” Methrin’s quiet voice echoed. “She was before my time but she led the way. This place is tinged with magic though. If you sit in the silence you can feel the currents of it ebbing and flowing. I suspect that’s why the Boundary was built here, drawing on the natural well of magic that fills this place. ”
His words made me yearn to be part of it, the cycle of magic, the flow of life, for my actions to be worthy of a statue that others would find hope, encouragement as they sat in reverent stillness and listened.
I crossed the threshold into the room and sank to my knees in front of the statue.
I expected the cold stones to bite through my nightgown but the air was warm, even.
Silky smooth petals brushed my fingers as I scooped them into my palms.
“Close your eyes,” Methrin instructed. “Make a wish.”
I obeyed, but the thought at the very forefront of my mind was of him. I could get used to the Methrin of the night, one so very different from the Wicked Prince I’d accidentally freed.
“ H ow’d you sleep?” Lyra asked as I walked into the kitchen. Early morning light shone in the windows and a hearty fire licked at the hearth.
Lyra sat at the table, a steaming mug in front of her, a finger holding open a book. Her brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, a pensive look on her face, but long shadows chased away when her eyes met mine.
“Do creatures always fight at night? I heard howling, barking and . . .” I trailed off with a shiver.
Lyra winced. “Sorry about that, I should have warned you. It happens whenever man or beast gets too close to the wards. When I was little I used to run to my father’s room and hide under the bed, waiting for it to end.”
My gaze darted to the back door which was firmly shut. “How do you live with that? Has anything come through? ”
“It’s only a matter of time, so it’s good we are leaving soon.”
“Leaving?” I stepped back, fighting to keep my panic down. “But. We just got here.”
Lyra tucked stray curls behind her ear and stood. “Walk with me in the garden?”
A frown creased my forehead and I paused, watching as she added tea leaves and hot water to a mug. When she held it out to me, I took it. “Is it safe out?”
“The mist keeps intruders out. For now.”
Cold fingers of fear wrapped around my chest. “Where are we going?” I asked quietly as I followed her into the crisp air of morning.
A stone path led into the garden, wild bushes growing on either side, new buds awaiting the sunshine to bloom.
A back wall surrounded the garden and as the land flattened into rows of furrowed ground, little green shoots tentatively poking up their heads.
It smelled like herbs and there was a wild undertone I couldn’t quite name.
“Well. You’re here. You brought Prince Methrin. It’s time to begin. I’ve been eagerly waiting your arrival, as was foretold and I’m relieved. No more waiting, no more loneliness. It’s time for an adventure.”
My eyebrows shot up. “I’m . . . I’m not going on an adventure. I’m just here to hide, to learn how to use Mirror Magic and find my purpose.”
Lyra sighed. “He didn’t tell you anything, did he?”
“Prince Methrin?” I found myself naturally echoing the way she adding the formal title before his name. “ Last night he showed me the statue of Seer Isoule and told me how she built this place.”
“Yes, her works have long been forgotten, but we store all the records here, books full of legends, histories of magic, the prophecies foretold and stories of mortals and immortals beyond our time.”
“Then you know of the Everminati?” I asked, since we’d never finished our conversation from yesterday. I was aware she knew of the Everminati but not how much. “I don't understand. Why would they come here. Why is he here?”
“A valid question.” Lyra moved to a well and took a seat on the stone rim. Patting the stones beside her she asked, “Tell me, what have you been taught about the Everminati?”