Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Too damn many. We’ve experienced too damn many attacks and bizarre occurrences in a short span of time. And we still have no clue what’s causing all this.
Leaves fall and spin as if there’s a vortex around each tree. My stomach dips.
I grew up watching my mother use air magic, so I know how lethal it can be.
My fingers prickle as I summon my own element.
The stone cherubs writhe and twist on their pedestals. Their once-benign faces split into grins that reveal those fucked-up rows of sharp diamond teeth.
Beside me, Lark shifts her weight in a subtle movement that I’ve learned to read better than any battle map. I can sense her fire gathering, prickling my skin with more than just magic. Standing here, confronting an opponent we know nothing about, I should feel a lot more worried.
It’s my faith in her that keeps me grounded.
Every single time. Every fight.
The woman who survived kidnapping, war, and betrayal never fails to steal my breath when she prepares for a fight. Wrapped in shadow and flame, she’s magnificent. The fire enhances the glimmering golden hues in her eyes and also her wings as they expand behind her.
Scattered across the courtyard, nobles and servants alike freeze in horror.
“Your Majesty, get back!” A guard rushes forward, sword drawn.
Useless. Steel won’t help against animated stone.
The cherubs stretch to their full height. Crystals form beneath them on the tiers.
Leaves continue to spiral and lash out in all directions.
The courtyard dissolves into chaos.
Servants disperse like startled birds, their clothing flapping as they flee. Guards curb their fear to form a perimeter. The wedding planner stands paralyzed, mouth agape.
“Sterling?” Lark’s voice is calm, measured. “You ready?”
I lurch forward, calling forth the water from the fountain. The fluid spirals around us, forming a translucent shield that distorts the world beyond like warped glass. “Already on it.”
Lark doesn’t hesitate.
She summons her fire, sending it into my water shield.
The elements don’t fight. They meld together in a heady rush.
Fire dances over the water without extinguishing, and water encloses fire without evaporating.
The combined magic hurls fractals of light across the courtyard.
The brilliant patterns shimmer and pulse with our shared power.
The cherubs freeze before slowly pivoting their heads to aim their diamond-laced grins at the light show.
Stone heads tilt in unison, as if listening to music only they can hear.
“What the hells are they doing?” I mutter.
“Being creepy as fuck.”
I grunt my agreement.
One of the stonemasons hired to create the monstrosities releases a scream that curdles my blood.
I track his pointing finger.
The fountain casts forming and reforming shadows that dance across the ground.
Cold, choking, unreasonable fear crawls down my spine.
Shadows writhe like living beings, like liquid darkness solidified.
Like drachen.
Memories crash over me, and a slimy sensation invades my gut.
Those vile creatures of darkness…enrapturing people with fear, leaving corruption and death in their wake. Narc controlled me, used me against my own people, against Lark. Forced me to murder innocents.
I nearly choke while swallowing down my panic and telling myself to pull it together.
The drachen are gone. Lark destroyed them months ago, along with the God of Nightmares.
Shadows are just shadows now. They can’t hurt anyone ever again.
Sucking down a lungful of air, I shove aside the memories.
“Everyone stay within the shield.” I circle my free hand, drawing more water from the fountain. The liquid responds by spiraling around each cherub like transparent snakes. With a flick of my wrist, I drop the temperature and freeze them in cocoons of ice.
Relief washes through me as my magic works exactly as intended.
About damn time.
The cherubs fall back to their pedestals, still somehow singing through their diamond teeth in a high scraping sound akin to grinding crystal.
Shadows arrange themselves in symbols that begin to glow.
The air crackles with the energy of an approaching thunderstorm, the scent of magic rising.
I check on Lark to ensure she’s okay.
Her golden gaze meets mine, and in that instant, we hold an entire conversation without words. We’ve fought together enough times to understand each other’s intentions.
My water magic surges through the fountain again, not fighting the crystals, but flowing around them, containing them. The crystalline formations beginning to grow from the cherubs’ icy prisons shudder. They try to spread, but they’re trapped in shells of swirling water that I control.
My muscles strain with effort.
Sweat beads on my forehead despite the chilly temperature. Despite the cold emanating from my palms.
Lark calls up precise bursts of fire, not to destroy but to illuminate. Her flames prance along her arms, curling from her fingertips in tight, controlled spirals. The fierce flare catches in my water spheres. Prisms form, spilling radiant rainbow fragments across the courtyard.
The cherubs’ song wavers. Their diamond teeth begin to crack.
“It’s working.” I can’t explain how I know. The magic just feels right, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.
Confusion blooms behind Lark’s determined expression. She intensifies her fire, careful to work with me, and the flames within my water create beautiful and complex patterns.
All the cherubs fall silent.
Their teeth dissolve into ordinary stone. Twisted shadows snap back to natural angles. The crystal formations inside my water spheres melt away, leaving nothing but ordinary fountain water that splashes to the ground when I release my hold.
“Well, I don’t,” Odessa clutches her papers to her chest, “know how I feel about that!”
I keep my face impassive. Flexing my fingers, I stretch out the stiffness from channeling so much magic.
“Did you see it?” Rafe’s voice spins us around.
He stands at the courtyard entrance, his tall frame silhouetted against the palace hallway.
His sharp gaze takes in the scene—the frozen cherubs, the scattered nobles and craftsmen now cautiously returning, the guards still at attention—and then snaps to Lark. “Did you see the shadows?”
Good to know I wasn’t losing my damn mind.
Lark’s face falls. “What shadows?”
Odessa edges forward, eyes wide with alarm. “Shadows? Surely, you don’t mean…”
“No, not drachen.” Rafe gives the near-hysterical wedding planner his version of a reassuring smile before gesturing to us. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to have a word with the queen and crown prince.”
“Of course.” Odessa wrestles her stack of papers into control and turns to Lark. “We’ll meet again later?”
“Can’t wait,” Lark lies as she retracts her wings and pats the short sword at her side, as if confirming her weapon is still there.
“We really appreciate all that you’re doing.
We trust your judgment. So depending on what else comes up in the next few days, if we’re not able to meet for a while, just keep doing what you’re doing.
Thanks to you, the wedding will be fabulous. ”
Beaming at Lark’s praise, the wedding planner scurries away.
Rafe crosses his arms. “Before you dealt with the cherubs, the shadows were spelling words.”
Lark rubs her temples, and I read the weariness in her eyes. “What words?”
“‘Follow the signs.’” Rafe’s chin juts forward with the importance of this revelation.
Lark’s eyes widen. “That’s it. That’s what’s happening. The gods are leaving us breadcrumbs. Not attacks, but messages.”
“Or maybe messages along with attacks.” I gesture toward the frozen cherubs. Those diamond teeth seemed plenty capable of piercing flesh.
Around us, the courtyard begins to return to normalcy. Guards escort shaken nobles back to their quarters, and servants rush in to clean up the damage.
Face set with grim determination, Lark addresses Rafe. “We need to document every strange occurrence, no matter how small. The gods are trying to communicate through chaos. Or hurt us through it. I’m going to try to reach out to some directly.”
I slip out to my private patio holding a small open flame in my palm. Sterling waits inside. Nyc, the Goddess of Night, has spoken to me several times, but never where he can hear.
The crisp night air carries the scent of damp earth and distant gardens. My fingers trace the cool railing as I climb the narrow stairs to my private rooftop balcony. Tonight, I need answers, and there’s only one being I know who might provide them.
The royal guard stationed at the top of the stairs stiffens at my approach. Even in darkness, his training is impeccable.
“Your Highness.” He bows and begins to back away. “I’ll give you privacy.”
I nod, grateful for his discretion. “Thank you.”
He vanishes into the sky, leaving me alone beneath the vast expanse of stars.
I move to the center of the balcony, where the stone is worn smooth from years of use. Though I brought nothing to sacrifice, I plan to try contacting the goddess anyway.
Snuffing the flame in my hand, I let the darkness wrap around me like an old friend.
“Nyc, I seek your guidance.”
Usually, when the Goddess of Night answers, there’s a peculiar warmth to the darkness. A contradiction that makes perfect sense in the moment, like the comfort of the womb. Her presence feels like a smile you can’t see but somehow know is there.
Tonight, something’s different.
The darkness coils around me, carrying an inexplicable sense of wrongness. There’s a frigidness that has nothing to do with temperature. A sharpness in what should be soft.
I fight the urge to pull back and break the connection. “Nyc? Will you heed my call for clarity?”
The darkness around me tightens, and I sense her presence crystallize. But the soothing warmth I’ve come to expect is absent, replaced by something that has my skin crawling.
“The old alliances shift.” Her voice whispers directly into my mind, and each word scrapes like broken glass across my thoughts. It’s nothing like her usual velvety tone. “Choose carefully where you stand, mortal queen.”
The words themselves unsettle me enough, but it’s the cold contempt behind them that stutters my heart. Nyc has expressed her frustration with me before, particularly over my failures to destroy her son Narc’s bones during my first few attempts.
But this…isn’t frustration.
This feels more like a threat from someone who used to be an ally.
My hand presses against my temple, where a dull ache has taken root. What just happened? What did she mean by old alliances? And why would the goddess who’s guided me, however reluctantly at times, now treat me like an enemy?
Calling flames to both hands, I unfurl my wings and jump down.
Retreating to inside the palace seems like the safest option.
Just like hiding under my blanket kept me safe from monsters in my childhood bedchamber.
Right after my feet hit the ground, the door to the patio swings open with a soft creak. Sterling’s silhouette fills the opening.
“What’s wrong?” He stares at the twin flames I’m using to keep the darkness at bay.
I blink, still trying to process what just happened. “Nyc. She was…different. Cold.” My fingers tremble, and I clench them into fists. “She threatened me.”
“What did she say?” He doesn’t reach for me, instead maintaining that careful distance he reserves for times like this. As if the soldier in him needs to assess the situation before acting.
I shake my head and repeat Nyc’s message. “As if she expects me to pick a side in some conflict I don’t even understand. Is she telling me to choose between magic users and those without power? In that case, of course I’ll pick magic. I’m Tirenese. I don’t want us to lose the magic we still have.”
Sterling remains quiet for a long moment.
The silence stretches between us, filled with unspoken concerns.
“Speaking of magic, mine has been…different.” Those capable, strong hands that have held both swords and my body with equal care flex and relax. “Not just difficult to control. More like it’s actively resisting me. Like it’s already been commandeered or pre-claimed by something else.”
This, I understand.
As a dragoncaller, I’ve wrestled control of fire from other users before. Even dragons. Dragonfire flames are heavier and denser than what humans can channel. Wielding them is like trying to divert a river. This rare skill marks me as unusually powerful and dangerous.
Still, the idea that someone or something could do the same to Sterling, whose control over water has always been exceptional? That thought terrifies me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I try to keep the tremor of hurt from my voice, but when his jaw tightens, I know I’ve failed.
Sterling’s shoulders tense in a barely perceptible motion that speaks volumes.
“Because I didn’t want to worry you. Because I thought maybe I was imagining things.
” He shifts to face me with a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes.
“Because I didn’t want to admit that something could take my magic from me. ”
The admission costs him.
For Sterling, control is everything. Control of his emotions, his magic, his kingdom. To have that threatened must shake the very foundation of who he believes himself to be.
Hot, fierce protective instinct flares inside me.
I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face into his chest. His steady heartbeat soothes the worries still racing through my mind.
“We’ll figure it out. Track down answers. We’ll question everyone.” I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, allowing my own determination to show. “No one gets to take from you what the gods have given.”
Sterling tips his chin down, his mouth quirking in that half-smile I love so much, the one that transforms his serious face by softening the hard edges. “Now that sounds like my queen.”
His strong arms cocoon me. In this embrace, the threat of Nyc’s warning feels temporarily distant, though not completely forgotten.
Something is happening in our world. Something that affects even the gods and our relationship with elemental magic.