Chapter Ten
T here is a silver candlestick resting on a table.
There are two bodies. One with closed eyes, and the other with open eyes that are unseeing.
A small girl charges. Blood pools on the floor.
And then the tiny room containing her tiny feet erupts with flames.
They dance and twirl around her. Lick her until she is bathed in vermillion.
But the flames do not burn her—no. Even though she wishes they did, the flames instead burn those who bear the unseeing eyes.
The tiny girl stretches a hand out. She opens her mouth to call a name—a title. Yet a wall of fire keeps them apart. Cruel laughter cackles in the air as words boom through every crevice. It should be you, you know. It is all your fault.
The flames brighten—come alive with a hypnotic quality.
The girl begs them to burn her instead. Still, they do not.
The cruel voice spews malicious words, and the girl absorbs them into the layers of her skin.
She hears the words, Burn. Burn. Burn. Just as the girl is ready to concede to the voice behind the flame, another calls out to her. The girl whips her head and sees—
“Lyra,” Gray’s gentle voice and soft touch to my shoulder jolts me awake.
I sit up and blink, scanning the room while mussing a hand through my disheveled hair. I blow out an exasperated sigh.
A dream .
It was all just a dream.
Except…
It wasn’t.
I rub the blurry exhaustion from my eyes and lay back down. “What time is it?”
“Early,” he answers softly. “Too early. Especially for you.” He drops his voice into a gentle whisper. “You were having another nightmare.”
Though my eyes stare up at a ceiling, a ceiling is not what they see. They still see flames curling, dancing higher and higher into the air.
“I was.” I blow out a sigh and turn onto my side, facing Gray. “Thanks for waking me up,” I murmur.
The hearth has died down into softly glowing embers, casting the chamber in a dim red-golden light, flickering faintly across the stone walls and wooden beams. It casts a curling shadow over Gray.
He stretches a hand out and lightly grazes his thumb across my cheek, brushing away a tiny remnant of a runaway tear.
“Whenever you’re ready to tell me about them, I’m ready to listen. ”
I chew on my lip. “I know.”
Flashes of the glass-laced whip slashing Gray’s skin flicker behind my eyes. His pain, his cries—they echo mercilessly in my mind. “How are you feeling?”
His voice is so, so gentle when he answers. “I’m okay.”
“Does it…do you still feel any pain?”
He shakes his head. “None in the slightest. Healers are truly a wonder, aren’t they? I can see why you wanted to be one when we were kids.”
I muster a weak laugh.
Gray spreads his fingers across my cheek, cupping my face. “Thank you for staying with me while I was being mended. And for the sleeping tonic, as well.”
“It was nothing compared to what you did for me, ” I rasp.
He drops his hand from my face and tucks it snugly beneath his head, not looking away from me as he does. “And I would do it all again if it meant you remained unharmed. ”
My brows pinch together.“You shouldn’t have to suffer.”
“And neither should you.”
A lump rises in my throat. I roll onto my back so I can once again stare at the ceiling, a heavy ache throbbing beneath my ribs. It swells so forcefully that, for a moment, I wonder if my chest might explode.
I am so lost in the sensation, I don’t notice the rustling of blankets and the small creak of the cot. Not until Gray slides into the fur blankets next to me and wraps his familiar arms around me.
And it’s strange. The way the action makes me feel better and worse all at once.
He holds me against his chest as he whispers onto the top of my head, “Go back to sleep, Lyra. And know that I’m here if the nightmares return.”
Tears prick in my eyes, begging to be released. But I force them away, back to the duct from which they came. I will not cry. I will not give life to the painful feelings. I will not give the king power over me. Crying means he’s won—that he got to me.
I refuse to let him win.
Sterling came and woke Gray and me right as the sun crested over the horizon.
In the wee, bleeding hours of the morning, he proposes a simple solution to help with my inexperience as a wielder—having Gray train me before and between tests, teaching me the fundamentals of both magic and combat needed to survive.
When I ask how he knows it’ll be enough, Sterling simply shrugs. “Because it will have to be.”
After we finish strategizing, I beeline for my room and gather the remaining supplies I have readily available—wrapping them carefully, tucking some neatly into a lidded box, and placing the rest in my pack. Once I have everything, I walk briskly to the stables before my absence is noticed.
I find Delroy brushing a beautiful silver-speckled mare. “Ah, Lyra,” he chimes when he sees me. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He sets his brush on a stool and hobbles over to me.
I smile when I notice his movements are less rigid.
“I–uh…I am leaving for a trip, and so I wanted to leave this with you.” I hold up the box for emphasis before setting it gently on top of a rough-hewn wooden shelf mounted on the wall.
His eyes linger on me before he grabs the box and rummages through it. “So it would seem that you are. The whole bloody city is already talking about you.”
My brows lurch before wrinkling. “What? How in gods-veins do people already know—”
“—About your magic and blood wager with the king?” Delroy glances at me, arching a bushy brow. “Guards are big gossips.”
I don’t even know what to say. Thankfully, Delroy speaks instead.
“There are a lot of tonics and healing supplies in here, dear girl. Supplies that would fetch a pretty coin for their potency and abilities.” He closes the box and returns it to the shelf. “Why have you brought them here? Why not take them with you?”
“I won’t have any need for them where I’m going. Or at the very least, I’ll have access to the supplies to make more if I need to. I want you to have them.” At his sharp gaze, I quickly add, “Please.”
I’ve always believed Delroy’s stubborn pride made life harder for him than it needed to be. Though, it’s not like I fault him. We all have something.
He sits on a small wooden stool directly across from the stall housing Rylier, a large black stallion. “And why give them to me?”
I approach Rylier and run a hand down his neck.
“Because I know you will use them well. If not for yourself, then for others.” I drop my hand and face Delroy.
“Tell the servants you trust what you have. Let them know they can come to you after one of the king’s summons.
Give them to a family. I don’t care what you do with them, Delroy.
Just see to it they do good. Most here already trust you. ”
He releases a long sigh, rubbing a hand across his head. “Alright.”
Not wanting to push my luck, but knowing it needs to be done, I also add, “And I’d like to change your bandages and apply more salve before I go.”
He glances at me pointedly, but I shoot him an equally sharp look back.
He chuckles. “Fine.”
Without wasting a moment, I gather what I need and silently work with a swift pace, knowing I need to get to the atrium soon to meet Gray, Sterling, and Klytis so we can depart for the academy.
Sterling hates tardiness, yet time is not on my side, as I still have one other errand I need to do before leaving.
I’ve just finished tending to Delroy when Thestis, the errand boy, sprints inside.
“I…caught…you,” he says through winded breaths.
I laugh, walking around Delroy to stand in front of Thestis. “And why was I in need of catching?”
“I…heard…about…Bathara.”
“By the gods, boy. Give yourself a second to catch your breath,” Delroy chastises.
I place a hand on my hip and watch—a humored smile curling my lip—as Thestis slowly lifts his hands off his knees and draws in a few gulps of air. Finally, seeming to have his breathing under control, he lifts his chin and waltzes right up to me. “Is it true?” He asks with wide eyes.
“Is what true?”
“Did you really make a blood wager with the king? Are you really going to compete for a place at Bathara?” He leans forward onto his tippy-toes, and I can make out the splatter of freckles sprinkling across his cheeks.
His words to Gray flash through my mind.
My ‘Ma told me I shouldn’t hold onto such silly hopes; she thinks it’s nice you train me in your free time, but she also thinks it’s a waste of time.
Because nobody like him has ever done it before. Because this world has written off those without titles or noble blood. Because we are told we can’t.
But I’m tired of being told what I can and cannot do.
I hold Thestis’s wide-eyed gaze firmly. “It is true. I am going to compete in Bathara’s entrance exams, and I am going to pass them.”
“But…you’re like me. A servant. A…nobody.”
His words don’t hold a single bite of malice nor a sliver of resentment.
Instead, his voice is airy and light. He has the same cadence a child uses when they question the phenomena of the world around them; like how the stars burn and float in the sky, and how it is possible to wield magic in this realm of mortals.
I rest my hands gently on his shoulders. “All the same, what I’ve said remains true. I will pass. And I will be admitted into Bathara.”
He stares at me curiously for a long moment.
Finally, he rustles around for something in his trouser pocket, pulling his hand out and uncurling his fist to reveal a dainty necklace.
“I was out late in the night running an errand for one of the king’s courtesans when I overheard the guard’s talking.
When I got home, I woke my ‘Ma and told her everything. She helped me make this for you.” He lifts his hand up to me, silently urging me to take the jewelry, and I glimpse the red staining his cheeks.
With a swell in my heart, I take the necklace and hold it up to the light.
Made of dark, supple leather—probably scrapped from worn boots or something similar—it features a small, oblong shaped stone suspended on a small loop at the necklace’s center.
The stone is crystallized into a near-translucent pale blue, coated in what looks like a sheet of shimmering ice, cracks branching like icy veins, wrapping around like glittering spiderwebs.
Thestis shifts on his feet, wringing his hands. “The stone isn’t anything special; it’s just a rock I found. I imbued it with my ice magic to make it look like that. I’m still learning, but it should remain that way.”
I marvel at the dainty piece resting between my fingertips. It is perhaps one of the most beautiful works of art I’ve ever seen. Suddenly, I remember what Gray said about Thestis.
His ice magic is something special. I think that even a Fjolla would find themselves impressed by it.
Impressive, indeed.
I pull the necklace over my head and tighten the bead at the back to secure the cord around my neck.
It rests perfectly at the base of my throat.
My fingertips graze the icy stone, finding it cold to the touch, but not uncomfortably so.
“Please don’t misinterpret my confusion as ungratefulness because this—” I clutch the stone for emphasis “—this is the most amazing necklace I have ever seen. But why give it to me?”
Thestis’s cheeks burn bright red. “My ‘Ma said if you make it—if you actually get accepted into Bathara—that maybe there will be hope for me after all. She’s going to allow me to train with a real tutor if you’re admitted.
Said that it’ll be the start of a new future.
” His eyes dart to the side as he shifts on his feet.
“She serves in the kitchens, so you probably don’t remember her, but she remembers you.
My ‘Ma…she says you’ve always had this fire about you.
She thinks if anyone can do it, you can. ”
“I’m inclined to agree with the boy’s mother,” Delroy chimes in from the stool, leaning forward with his arms braced on his thighs. A small, assured smile rests content on his lips.
And if I were someone comfortable with allowing the weight of emotions to be felt, I may have cried right then and there.
“The necklace is for good luck.” He averts his eyes again, speaking while his fingers twirl over themselves. “We said a prayer over it to the Mother Goddess, Ahlai, because we know your mom was a Gardner. We also prayed to Raffir, the god of luck and good fortune. It probably didn’t work but—”
I kneel and throw my arms around Thestis’s tiny neck. He stiffens at first, but eventually, he squeezes me back with all the force in the world, nuzzling his chin into my hair.
“Show Bathara we matter, too,” he murmurs into the crook of my neck. “That we aren’t lesser than the others.” He squeezes tighter. “Make them see us.”
I pull back to meet his eyes, gripping the edge of his shoulders with my fingertips. “I promise I will.”