Chapter Seven
ChApter
Seven
After I’ve bathed and dressed in clean clothes—a black mourning dress to appease the king as well as Indira—I search for Nadya.
I find her in the library, hunched over a thick, leather-bound tome that looks like it’s survived a hundred storms. Her elbow rests on the edge of the table, one finger absently twisting a coil of her hair as her eyes flick across the page.
She’s so engrossed in the text, she doesn’t notice me enter.
The air smells like parchment and old smoke, faintly sweet with dried lavender and bay leaves tucked into the crevices of the shelves to keep the moths out.
It’s one of the quietest places in the citadel, but right now, I welcome the hush.
My thoughts have been screaming, but here, they’re not as loud.
“Nadya?” My voice sounds hollow in the stillness. “Do you have a moment, or should I come back when your skin’s finished fusing with the parchment?”
She startles slightly, blinking up at me before a warm smile curves her lips. “You’re back.”
I nod, crossing the room to her side. My body still feels like it’s in motion from being on horseback all day, but it’s my thoughts that won’t settle. After we greet each other with a hug, I sink into the seat beside her. “I checked on my uncle. He doesn’t seem to be getting better.”
Nadya closes the book and shifts my way, her gaze softening, growing serious. “I know. When his fever started, I panicked. But Ezra told me he thinks it means the elixir is working.”
I nod, running a hand through my hair, the strands still damp. “He wasn’t so open with me. He simply said we have to wait to see if the fever breaks. I couldn’t stand to see him thrashing, so I came to find a distraction.”
“He said the same thing to me.” She sighs. “That’s why I came here.”
“Have you been here all day?”
“Don’t tell Indira, but I’ve been here since last night. Only left once, sneaking to the kitchen to grab something to eat.”
I give her a questioning smile. “Why shouldn’t I tell Indira?”
“I’ve been hiding from her. I guess I left a mess in one of the rooms…
well, one of the guards and I left the mess.
He has a special way to enjoy berries.” She grins and coyly averts her eyes.
“Anyway, I thought I’d give her some time to calm down, and I don’t think she’s stepped foot in the library in years. ”
I can’t help but laugh. It’s good to know that some things haven’t changed, and I lean closer to her to take her hand, grateful for her company.
She gives my hand a squeeze, her grip steady and warm. “Celeste. Ezra knows what he’s doing. He’s the best magister I’ve ever met.”
I manage a faint scoff. “You don’t know many magisters, though. Do you?”
Her lips quirk upward, but her voice remains soft.
“With all that knowledge and cleverness, I can’t imagine a better magister could exist. Which is why I put all my faith in the one I do know.
Ezra’s calm, but he’s not careless. If he thought your uncle was beyond saving, he wouldn’t still be fighting. ”
Her reassurance settles something in my chest—not quite relief, but a fragile thread of steadiness. “I suppose.”
“Oh! Have you seen the king?” She grimaces. “I tried my best to cover for you, but when he forced Indira to admit you hadn’t been to your room for a few days, he caught on.”
“It’s not your fault. And yes, Dante and I went to see him.”
She wags her brows. “Dante, huh? I figured he was with you.”
I release her hand and give her a playful nudge. “We weren’t alone together, if that’s what you’re thinking. There was another attack, this one closer to Hedera.”
“So the attack on Ivystone wasn’t a solitary incident? I figured they’d only crossed the border because of Torbin.”
I don’t answer right away. My uncle’s voice replays in my mind, and my stomach churns from his words. Is my father really alive? Is he the tsar or just one of the tsar’s prisoners? Was the tsar—father or not—using the carnoraxis to get to me, and that’s why they were in Hedera?
“We can’t be sure,” I finally answer. “But it looks like I won’t be much help with the effort anymore. The king has henceforth forbidden me to ride out into battle.”
“That hasn’t exactly stopped you before. Besides, when he leaves for the tour, he won’t be around to keep you trapped.”
Except I fear it will be even worse then. He’ll most likely triple the guards, and I wouldn’t put it past him to keep me locked up, not just in the castle, but in my room.
“We’ll see.” I shake my head. “For now, I need a distraction. Something to keep me from staring at the door and willing Ezra to walk through it with good news. And something to keep me from foolishly planning a vendetta against the king.”
Nadya taps the edge of her book. “Then you’re in luck. I’ve got a distraction that comes with age-old history, sorcery, and possibly a little family drama.”
I raise a brow. “All that from one book?”
She flips it open again, revealing curling script and a faded sketch of women in cloaked robes. “Someone was diligent about keeping note of who was going where and when.”
I laugh. “I wasn’t aware that gossip was considered history.”
“Well, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that oftentimes powerful men who are afraid of the truth getting out suppress the voices of the authentic.”
I sit up straighter. “Okay. I’m listening.”
She leans in, excitement returning to her voice. “This particular section talks about a small traveling band of mysterious women from Bastos. Supposedly, they journeyed through Terre Ferique before the plague of poisonous plants began spreading.”
“Doing what?”
“The opinions are mixed.” She lifts a shoulder. “Some say they caused the corruption. Others say they were trying to stop it. Either way, they were rumored to be powerful, wielding magic unlike anything that’s documented elsewhere. Not born magic like with fae or sirens. Learned magic. Witchcraft.”
The word floats around the room like dust in beams of sunlight.
“Witches traveling through Terre Ferique? I’m surprised they weren’t stopped.” Through the centuries, there’s been a big debate on witches. Many people believed that any magic not inherited was stolen. Twisted. That it came from somewhere dark and not from the gods.
“Eventually, they were stopped.” She closes the book with a thud that resonates through the room. “They were killed by assassins once they’d reached the shores of the Batu Basah Ocean.”
“If the witches got that far, then they must not have been very good assassins.” I tilt my head. “Who hired the assassins?”
She lifts a brow. “No one knows.”
“That’s ominous.”
“Anyway, I thought it was interesting, mostly because that’s where my mother’s side of the family came from. Bastos. Particularly Cista.”
I’m guessing that’s what she meant by family drama. “You never told me that.”
She smiles crookedly. “My mother doesn’t talk about it.
She was born in Delasurvia. Hetchling, to be exact.
But her parents moved from Bastos before she was born.
The only family I know of still living there is my great-aunt.
Haven’t spoken to her since I was little.
Haven’t spoken to anyone back home in Delasurvia in a while, either. ”
Something cold twists in my chest. “Your mother hasn’t written since we moved here.”
“No,” she says, looking down. “Not even a message. But that’s not new. She doesn’t enjoy writing. She says she’s bad at it, but I think it’s just an excuse.”
“I’m sorry, Nadya.”
“It is what it is.” Nadya leans back in her chair, fingers drumming lightly against the closed cover of the book as her expression changes. “Can you imagine witches so powerful, they destroyed most of the world and wiped out the existence of dragons with poisonous plants?”
“That’s intense, yeah.”
She tilts her head after a moment. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have magic.”
I blink at her. “Magic like that?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “I would never be that sinister, but, you know, some kind of mystical power. Something I could learn to control. To use.”
Though I’m struggling to figure out my own powers, I don’t dismiss her curiosity. I tilt my head. “What do you think you would do?”
A mischievous gleam lights in her eyes. “I think I would start small, just to test things out. Maybe I’d enchant the furniture in any room Indira enters to shift slightly so she’s always running into something. You know, just to keep her humble.”
I snort, covering my mouth to hide the laugh, but it escapes, anyway—light and unexpected. “That’s what you’d use ancient power for? Magical redecorating?”
“Imagine the chaos. Every court function ruined by a trail of bumps and grunts. Or if she’s hunting me down to scold me, I could easily outrun her.” She sighs wistfully.
I shake my head, but there’s a smile tugging at my lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously brilliant,” she counters, then she runs her hand along the spine of the book. “But seriously, if there’s even a sliver of truth in these old texts—if witches once protected this land—it makes me wonder.”
The thought hovers between us, daring and delicate.
Before I can respond, the door creaks open behind us.
“There you are,” Indira huffs, her heels clicking briskly across the polished floor. She eyes the book in front of Nadya with the disdain of someone who has no time for musty tomes or ancient curses.
“Oh, were you looking for me?” Nadya feigns innocence.
Indira’s nostrils flare, but her lips are pressed into a line, as if she’s trying to control herself. “I will deal with you later. But for now, you both must come with me. Immediately.”
“For what?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“Preparations are underway for the funeral,” she says. “The king has announced it will take place in two days’ time, and the queen has summoned the royal seamstress. You are to be fitted for your funeral gowns.” Her gaze cuts to Nadya. “You, too.”
Nadya groans and pushes the book away. “Mourning and fashion. Those certainly go hand in hand, don’t they?”
“If you’ve ever been to Podrosa,” I mumble, “I’d say that’s spot on.”