Chapter 3 #2
Ferer gives me a tense nod, eying his sister. It’s true that staying alone in an empty castle is not a good idea, and yet I still don’t like to bring her with us. One more person for me to worry about.
I point a finger at her again. “When we get there, stay back, away from any confusion. And be careful.”
She waves a hand, seeming annoyed. “When am I not careful?”
“When you steal notes, for example.”
“We should go,” Ferer says.
True. We leave the castle’s heart, descend a flight of stairs, and reach the circle near my stepfather’s previous office.
In a matter of seconds, darkness consumes us, soon replaced by stars shining above us.
Salt tinges the air, from the ocean roaring nearby.
We’re facing a huge plaza and a tall wall.
The Jewel.
I haven’t been here in more than thirteen years, always hiding from all sorts of fae who want me dead, such as the council who controls this city.
And yet now here I am—too worried to even appreciate it.
We step out of a circle on the back of the plaza. From here, I don’t see many guards on this side of the gate, and assume they aren’t counting on anyone getting out. Still, I doubt their plan is to keep that gate shut forever.
The guards by the circle pay us no mind as we walk towards the gate. At the same time, my brother and Ziven approach us in brisk steps.
“Can you summon the crown?” my brother whispers.
I glare at him. So he knows that the royal treasure follows me, knows that I can summon it whenever I want, and yet he dared call me a thief during all these years.
“You mean the crown I stole, Renel?”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then looks me in the eye. “You might be able to compel—”
“Compel who?” I point at the turrets. “You want me to put on the crown and ask them nicely? I doubt it will work. And I don’t want to waste time or make a spectacle right now.”
Renel swallows and looks away. Disappointed, I suppose.
Ziven opens his arms. “Right? It’s what I said. Let’s just use our magic. I can help.”
I doubt he can do much, but I don’t want to argue. In fact, I just want to deal with this as fast as I can, so I can focus on Astra. “Fine. Help with the gate.” I turn to Ferer. “Watch our back, and keep an eye on your sister.”
She narrows her eyes while Ferer nods. I turn to Renel. “You too, stay with them.”
He gives me a tight smile, the corners of his eyes tense.
I approach the gate and see the trapped fae behind the bars, trying to leave. I think about all the years my brother sat on the throne and allowed the Jewel to become this horror.
Anger, revulsion, disappointment. There are so many feelings coursing through my veins. And then the worry about Astra. This time, I can’t let my magic come out in erratic bursts—I need to be precise.
“Now,” I whisper, not really expecting Ziven to break the gate, but at least letting him know he can try.
I condense some of the water in the air and create ice manacles, locking the feet and hands of the guards beyond the bars, and attaching them to the ground.
They yell in confusion, but can’t do much, at least not right away.
A regular water wielder could melt my ice, but it would still take a few minutes.
I use ice to block the turrets on the outer side of the wall, then lock the hands and feet of guards behind and around us.
After that, I create a wall behind the lower fae to prevent attacks from the back.
It’s hard to see much into the city to know where archers are positioned, so I extend the wall horizontally, making a large canopy shielding the fae by the gate.
I’m about to work on it, when I notice the gate hinges and lock cracking then breaking.
Ziven actually managed to open it.
We step aside as it falls forward in the direction of the plaza, and the fae burst free, escaping the containment of the Jewel, their faces full of joy and relief.
Easy and fast.
Or maybe not.
Hundreds of arrows hit the ice canopy—fire arrows, from here just luminous dots. Just dots. I can ignore the fire, and I reinforce the wall and canopy with my magic.
As I’m doing that, I see more guards advancing to the plaza from the sides, some of them with heavy weaponry. It’s as if they had been waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone to rescue the fae.
They hurl a huge flaming ball against the multitude escaping the city, where there’s no ice protecting them.
All it takes is half a second. An eternity. A brief moment when I notice the flames. And in that moment, that thin layer separating me from my pit of pain cracks.
I fall, fall, fall, down into that pit.
So many screams. My mother, my stepfather, my sister, my brother. Those screams echo and echo in my head, sharp like the sharpest blade, digging deep into my heart.
Everything burns and that dreadful fire rages inside me, around me, everywhere. I can’t stop it, can’t save them, and I’m locked in that moment, watching them burn through eternity. I never left that room.
My family and I are burning with my own fire and there’s nothing I can do but to watch helplessly while flames take me.
“Marlak!”
My eyes snap open. Ziven’s shaking my shoulders.
“Marlak!” he yells again.
Other than his voice, all I hear is silence and my own loud heartbeats. No fire around me. No fire anywhere, but I don’t know where I am. Rain pours down from the sky. Not rain—water magic. Not mine.
I’m at the Jewel Plaza, and the memories assault me like a punch. Did I let that fire ball hit those fae?
I don’t want to look, don’t want to see the result of my mistake, and yet I dare. To my relief, nobody’s dead, nobody’s hurt.
Ferer is standing beside me, and I realize that the “rain” is his magic, and I think it doused the fire.
Ziven exhales when he meets my eyes. “I thought you were collapsing from magic fatigue.”
Fatigue. He doesn’t realize all I had was illogical, childish fear paralyzing me.
Shame crawls over my skin, eats my insides. Shame for failing. For a moment, my magic feels dormant, dead. I feel dead inside, so pathetically weak, even if my body’s trembling and I can still sense some trace of wayward magic coursing through my veins.
As thick drops of water fall on me, I let them wash away my horror as I try to use my shame as a fuel.
My magic is returning; angry, erratic, but at least I can use it for something useful.
I take a deep breath and focus on the present moment, the present foes. Some lower fae are still leaving the city, and we need to give them the best chance of escaping.
I create two high ice barriers, blocking the guards advancing from the sides.
I even extend the ice as much as I can on the ground, so it’s hard to advance over a slippery surface.
As the last lower fae crosses what used to be the gate of the Jewel, I seal the city with a thick ice wall, so that more guards don’t follow them right away.
There are still some guards in the plaza, within the recently created ice walls, but their feet are locked in ice.
“I think we can leave,” I mutter, my voice still shaky, the memory of the fire and my foolish fear still too clear, too vivid, too horrid.
“I can’t transcend right now,” Ferer says. “My magic needs to rest.”
“You can’t take all of us regardless. We’ll walk away, then find another circle, or… I don’t know.”
I’m still dizzy, stupefied.
My brother approaches me, Lidiane at his side, and says, “Marlak, you need to put on the crown.”
That must be a joke. “Now?” I snap.
“The Crystal Court guard swear oaths binding them to the crown, so they’ll obey you. Tell the guards not to follow the lower fae, tell them that the Crystal Court decrees that they should be set free.”
I’m not sure it’s necessary. “Most of them are behind walls of ice.”
“You can still yell, and it will ensure they don’t follow the fae.”
That actually makes sense—except that it must be some kind of trick, coming from my brother. He can’t be thinking of the wellbeing of the lower fae. At the same time, it’s true that commanding the guards could be a good idea.
I never thought I’d declare myself king like that, that it would be so easy. Easy and hard at the same time. Perhaps I never hoped that my brother would abdicate his power without a fight.
I focus on that dreadful object, part of the Crystal Court treasure, the symbol of its ruler. A gold circlet appears on my hand, and I place it on my head. A current of power runs through me.
“Attention, guards!” I yell. “You must not follow the lower fae. They must be set free. This is Marlak Goldenstar, the true king of the Crystal Court, and I declare that all the previously enchanted lower fae are now free. You have no right to hunt them, no right to imprison them, no right to kill or harm them.”
The few guards in the plaza stare at me in silence, their feet and hands still locked in ice.
I’ve always dreamed of declaring the freedom of the lower fae, and yet now, I don’t even know if my words did anything, if they affected them, if the guards even believe I’m the true Crystal Court king.
It’s time to leave.
“Done. Happy?” I ask my brother.
“No. Tarlia’s taken. I’m not happy, but this is the right thing to do.”
As if he cared for what’s right. I shouldn’t be angry at him, shouldn’t let resentment poison me, and yet I can’t forget that he was the only one who escaped the fire unscathed.
As if it wasn’t enough, he benefited from it, pretended to be the king for years, while I was cast out.
But this is not the time to dwell on it.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Lidiane whispers, “Do you want to find a river?”
I glance at my brother, then decide that Ferer could take him through a circle, while we use the rivers, so I nod—but something’s wrong.
Lidiane makes a choking sound and places her hand on her neck. None of my companions seem to be able to breathe either.
As far as I know, only two fae have air magic strong enough to choke an entire group. Three, counting me—but I’m obviously not doing it. And if Azur is in the Shadow Lands…