Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
I didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter.
While she held off Wren, I moved toward him.
And when I was close enough, I closed my eyes and let myself drift toward the Aetheric.
And felt the snap of the connection. Aether flowed into the world, bright and warm, its heat at least numbing some of the agony in my chest.
Then I felt a tug coming from our world, from nearby. The Aetheric practitioner was siphoning magic from the doorway, using it to give himself power. Luna must have known he’d do it if given the chance. Why would she allow it?
I held on to the connection but opened my eyes within our realm. The Aether was beautiful—white and shimmering, except for the putrid margin around his body as he stood wide-legged, with arms and legs outstretched, to take it in.
There was movement to my left.
The prince, in a short-collared shirt pale as moonlight over dark trousers and boots, moved silently beside me.
Instead of a jacket, a cloak the color of the starless sky was draped across his shoulders.
And in his hand, the Moriad. Even in darkness and misery, he shone as bright as a star within that firmament.
He moved forward, sword raised, and prepared to strike.
Luna must have gotten a message to him. She knew the doorway would distract the practitioner, which would give the prince a chance to kill him.
This was almost over.
The garrison chose that moment to beat their warning drums.
At the sudden burst of noise, the Aetheric practitioner opened his eyes and stared at the prince and the sword. And with a flash of pale green Aether, he disappeared.
The prince cursed. Luna disappeared, presumably to try to follow the practitioner. And the human assassins scattered. My pain decreased, but the ember remained hot, smoldering in the remaining Aether.
“After them!” the prince shouted, and the soldiers who’d joined him gave chase.
Garrison soldiers flooded into the market. Rill got to me first and grabbed my arm.
“Always making trouble, little witch. I still owe you for Springmarket, and here I find you in the middle of the market, fighting strongholders.”
“You’re going to want to release her.”
Rill snorted, kept his gaze on me. “Says who?”
“Says the Prince of the Western Gate.”
Rill went very still and glanced around to find said prince staring down at him. He took in the glare, the jacket, the boots, the Moriad shining in the torchlight.
Rill let go of my arm and stood straight. As with other weaker animals facing down a predator, he puffed out his chest. “She’s a witch, using magic to hurt strongholders.”
A few strongholders had gathered around now, watching the garrison with arms around loved ones or make-do weapons still in hand. “She saved us!” an older man shouted, his face as wrinkled as an old apple. “And you didn’t do shite! Stayed in your garrison and let us all die.”
“Listen to the strongholders, Rill,” the prince said. “That way, I can give you the benefit of the doubt instead of concluding that you’re working with the Aetheric practitioner.”
“Look at all this damage!” Rill insisted.
“Are you muddle-headed or just lazy?” the prince asked.
“A battle took place here, and your soldiers did nothing. We nearly had the culprit, and you chose that moment to beat your damn drums, which alerted him to our presence. His escape is on your head, and now you’re trying to arrest one of the people who fought him. ”
Rill huffed but let go of my arm. “We don’t fight peasant magic.”
“From what I can tell, you don’t fight anything. Your strongholders have now been injured several times because you’re lazy or actively villainous.”
“Actively villainous,” I called out. “Especially if you’re a young woman in the stronghold.”
“Lies,” Rill said, and there was poison in his eyes.
“Yue,” the prince called out, and she ran over.
“Your Highness?”
“You’re now the acting commander of the garrison.”
Rill sputtered. “You can’t do that.”
“Can and have done.” He pulled a silver square from his pocket, similar to the one he’d given me in the palace, and handed it to her. “Keep who you want, dump the rest. Either way, get some order here.”
Yue looked at Rill. “Everyone gets one chance, starting now. You want one, or no?”
“I—” He looked back and forth between us, apparently hoping to find an ally in the crowd. But there were none, and he apparently realized there wouldn’t be coin, either, if he lost his position.
“Madam,” he said, and offered a deep bow. The deeper the bow, the greater the fear, my father had said.
“Acting commander,” Yue corrected, and began to give out orders.
The prince came to me and looked me over. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just a bump on the head.” And then I remembered my attacker. “Wren—”
“There,” he said, gesturing to the other side of the road. “She’s all right.”
She was sitting in front of the bookseller’s shop. Galen sat beside her, an arm around her waist to keep her upright.
I ran to her, crouched in front, and touched her hand. Her skin was boiling hot, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow. “We need balm.”
“I’ve sent someone to fetch Sanj,” Galen said.
I pulled up her sleeves and winced at the lightning-shaped marks on her arms, still glimmering with Aether. “I don’t want her marked by this.”
“I don’t think she’d care about scars.”
“No, she’ll probably think they make her look dangerous.”
“Probably.” But I wondered…Humans who’d been possessed were left with a surplus of Aether. If the Aetheric practitioner could pull Aether from the Aetheric, could I do something similar for humans? Could I pull it out of them?
“I’m going to try to remove some of it,” I said.
“You can do that?”
“I’m not actually sure.”
“Will it hurt her?”
“I don’t think so. It may not do anything, but she’d want me to try.”
“If you do it in public…” he said, and didn’t need to finish the thought aloud.
“They’ve already seen me face him down, heard what he said about using magic. There’s only so much hiding I can do.”
And if I had a chance to help Wren and the others, I had to try.
I moved to my knees, ignored the rocks that dug into my skin, and blew out a breath. Then I put a hand on her cheek. My heart shuddered, but I let the ember take control. I closed my eyes, gave over to the heat and pain, and flew through hanging stars to open the link.
“Your Aether,” I said silently to any who might hear, “which belongs to your realm, has been placed in this human without her agreement. Take it back, if you’re able. Please. And painlessly would be a lovely bonus.”
For a moment, there was nothing.
And then the ember warmed again, and Aether tingled at my fingertips. It moved across my body, a balm to my heart, as if I was now a conduit between the realms, my body a bridge, letting what originated there return to its source.
After a moment, the ember cooled. I opened my eyes and felt her forehead. Her skin was cooler, too, and the marks on her arms were lighter than they had been.
She sighed. “I don’t like Anima anymore.”
“Completely understandable.” I leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
She squinted one eye open and growled, “I need a drink.”
“You need rest and balm.”
At the unfamiliar voice, I glanced back.
The man who stood behind me had dark brown skin, and his black hair was straight and pulled back into a knot. He wore a long green jacket, the color traditionally worn by Carethian healers, and carried a leather bag on a strap across his chest.
“Sanj,” the prince said, “meet Fox.”
I nodded at him. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“Same,” he said with a smile, then crouched beside me. “What did you do?”
“Siphoned off Aether.”
“Well done. Damned effective.” He opened his bag, and scents of green and spicy things wafted out. He pulled out a round wooden container and removed the cork. I recognized the scent.
“Wren’s balm?”
“It is. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to try that siphoning on the others?”
“The others?”
“The other four strongholders.”
“Of course. The others. Sorry. I’m…tired.”
“I imagine you are.” He looked up at me, his eyes soft and brown and kind. “Do you have injuries you need me to look at?”
I shook my head. “Took a couple of hits but I’m fine. Just a little sore.”
“You did the stronghold a service, Fox. Go finish your work, then you can rest. As you make your way through, I’ll apply the balm.” With a very gentle hand, he daubed it gently across Wren’s forehead.
I rose, stumbling a bit—unlike Catalaya, unintentionally—but the prince caught me, too.
“I’ll do my best.” It was a promise to them both.
I was exhausted, but the joy of once-possessed strongholders blinking awake far outweighed it. Their bodies were still worn down and they’d have to deal with the violations they’d experienced. But they were alive, and the excess Aetheric was gone. They’d survive.
I was ready to drop by the time the carriage arrived to take me, Wren, and the prince to the palace.
“I apologize,” Galen said as I prepared to climb up.
“For what?”
“For thinking less of you than you deserve.” Then he pointed. “Hurry up.”
It was a brief moment of niceness, but I’d take it.
“I’ll be in shortly,” the prince said when we arrived at the palace doors, squeezing my hand before I left him to follow Wren to a sleeping chamber near mine. I waited until the door opened and Sanj came in, Galen behind him.
Sanj nodded at me, checking her temperature with the back of his hand. “Stable,” he said. “Your siphoning has helped, as did the balm. Do you know where she learned her craft?”
“As a child. She had to fight to stay alive. Remedies were the other side of that coin, I think.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but we’re lucky she learned the skill.” He slid me a glance. “She is settled and resting, Fox, while you look pale and exhausted. You should sleep.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“I’ll stay,” Galen said.
I just looked at him. “Will you?”
He nodded, his wavy locks, disheveled by the fight, falling over his eyes. He looked so young, but so burdened. Maybe we all did.
“Then I’ll trust you with her,” I said. I squeezed his arm and opened the door.
The palace was quiet, the corridors empty but for guards—more than I’d seen before. Two waiting outside my door now. And when I walked inside and closed it behind me, Luna appeared.
“Wren?” she signed.
“A few rooms away. She’s resting. The doctor is with her.”
“Good.”
“You need Aether,” I said, and she nodded. Silently, with so much to say and no will to say it, I touched her hand, let myself drift to the Aetheric, and let it cascade into her until she shone brightly again. And then I pulled back my hand.
“You’re improving.”
“I practiced yesterday. And I think I visited the Aetheric.” I sat down on the bed and told her what I’d seen, and about the voice I’d heard.
“Another Guardian,” she concluded. Then she was quiet for a moment. “After tonight, after so many have seen, there will be questions about what you were able to do. So I think I can avoid the rest no longer.”
“The rest of what?” I asked, and was suddenly nervous about how she might answer.
“The pain you feel when Aetheric is near.” She paused, as if preparing herself. “When you were young, a seal was placed upon you. A magical charm intended to protect you. And it protects you still.”
“Protect me from what?”
“Not what, but who. From those who would punish you for your abilities. You know now the practitioner is no Luminae. But you are.”