Chapter 4
FOUR
ARYELLA
During our time together between Warrich and Brinnea, I was an insufferable, controlling asshole. But I was often convinced the gods had brought you back to me as some sort of cosmic joke, and I couldn’t breathe, much less think clearly, at the thought of you being ripped away from me again.
I pray you’ll one day forgive me.
—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I
Steam billowed in front of my face as I moved, swiftly and sharply. The morning was cold, and I sucked in the crisp air like it gave me life.
My sparring partner, however, appreciated the chill far less.
“Faster, Damond!” I snapped. Months ago, training with him had pushed me to the point of vomiting. Now, he could barely keep up with me.
I’d memorized his tell—when his weight shifted onto his toes—and ducked every time he swung. I never thought I’d be thanking the gods for short legs.
He dodged me, too. Sometimes.
“I can’t!” he gasped, yielding with his hands up just as I was about to uppercut my fist into his jaw. “You’re too fast.”
“Come on .” My arms fell to my sides. “That’s ridiculous. No, I’m not.”
“I’m done , Aryella,” he insisted.
I grabbed my canteen and took a long drink.
Damond had the patience of a saint. This afternoon, however, his face flushed and breathing labored, he braced himself with his hands on his hips and glared at me. “I’ve shown you everything I know and then some.”
I shook my head. That couldn’t be true. “He trained you for what, ten years?”
Damond rubbed the back of his neck. “When he was around, sure, which wasn’t all that much.
Enough for me to protect myself from rogues and thieves.
” He looked pointedly at three of my many books, pages crinkled and spines nearly wrecked, lying open on the forest floor.
“Meanwhile, you have done nothing for the last four months but push your body to its limits, memorize every maneuver on every single page he left you and use it all to learn how to beat the shit out of me.”
“I don’t think?—”
“You outmatch me now, Ary.”
“I have one more day left to train before leaving for Commencement.” I unwrapped sweat-dampened cloth from my hands. I knew I’d likely never feel ready. I needed to take the risk anyway. Still, I added, “I have to be better and smarter.”
“How long are you going to punish yourself?” He picked his own canteen off the freshly thawing ground. I refused to meet his questioning stare. I didn’t have to specify my insecurities for him to know. I had spent many nights berating myself for running off to Molochai’s camp on impulse.
“It was dumb,” I mumbled under my breath.
“You were starving, lost, mourning, and cold,” he reminded me.
“Then, you were burdened with the weight of the world, lied to, and heartbroken. You thought you were sacrificing yourself to save the woman he loved, because you loved him . So yes, it was impulsive, but I’d be filthy rich if I had a coin for every time a broken heart drove my decisions.
” He paused to drink. “You learned and survived. You did ,” he insisted when I arched my brow at him.
“You’re stronger now, and smarter. And even though you possess the power of the gods, as far as I know, you’re still human. ”
Damond was good at encouraging and empowering me. But sometimes everything I kept suppressed rushed out with a vengeance. I was working on turning my fear into rage instead.
Sometimes, though, I missed how it felt to feel everything safely. To not suppress at all. To just be . With him.
My eyes wandered to Shera, who was lounging lazily beside a fern, waiting for unsuspecting rabbits or squirrels. She looked back at me and I smirked. Sometimes I swore she smiled back.
“Listen.” Damond drew my attention back to him. “I know you don’t want to admit it, but Simeon?—”
“Let’s not talk about him and say we did.”
“You need him, Ary.”
I didn’t answer, though I knew it was true.
Healing was what I practiced most beyond my elemental abilities.
Once I figured out what it felt like to have the elements flow through my veins and memorized each sensation, I summoned power like I summoned my next breath.
Wielding wasn’t the problem, so I sometimes felt like I didn’t need Simeon.
I had done a decent job at accessing those elemental powers on my own, along with camouflage and healing, but that left four more to be discovered.
Not to mention my control was lacking. I’d been told Simeon had been afraid of me once, that I hadn’t been able to control these strange powers inside me. Now it was clear why.
Months ago, I’d been able to access my power only when I was angry or desperate or panicked. The only reason no one had been harmed while I practiced was because I did so only with Damond standing at a distance.
“Maybe you should just talk to your uncle,” Damond suggested, stepping closer. “The next time he sends a note, maybe?—”
“We don’t even know where the hell he’s been! And why, for a second , would I even consider believing a single thing that liar tells me?”
“Because right now, all you can do is reach inside that wheel of yours, grab the first element you see, and risk destroying everything within a mile radius.”
I glared at him, chest heaving. “I haven’t destroyed a thing.”
Damond’s eyes drifted to the grove of trees I’d decimated a week prior.
“That was once,” I objected. In fact, I’d lost control four times in a row, engulfing them with flames, drenching them with water, icing them over, and finally blasting them to smithereens with Sussurro’s wind. “One day .”
Damond huffed out a laugh. “I know you’re angry.
You have every right to be.” He rested his hands on my shoulders.
“But at some point, you’re going to have to accept that Simeon, despite the deceitful prick he is, has over four hundred years’ worth of knowledge about that power running through your veins. You need each other.”
I stared down at the hands I once felt ashamed of for being so small and frail. They didn’t look much different save for some scrapes and calluses, but I was learning to use what I had for myself so that no one else could.
“ He needs me ,” I repeated, not to deny the other truth but to ensure I never forgot the first.
I woke up the next morning with a sour ache in my gut.
Nervous anticipation made eating breakfast a chore, but I forced down every bite knowing I’d need it for the journey ahead.
Elias Winterton and his soldiers would not be expecting a young rogue from Brinnea, and I was not expecting the warmest of welcomes while in my disguise.
That was fine. As long as they didn’t succeed in killing me.
Fear rarely dulled Damond’s warm brown eyes, but this morning was different. He sat across from me, swirling a spoon in his coffee mug. Knee bouncing, body restless.
“Do you know what you’ll call yourself?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And you have a backstory?”
I nodded.
“Be careful on the road. Molochai’s beasts roam freely and in much greater numbers farther south.”
“I know.”
One way that Molochai used his dark magic was by corrupting and enhancing a natural creature and turning it into something wholly unnatural.
I’d only ever seen one, in northwest Wymara.
Scaled and black with at least a hundred teeth and blades for claws.
I’d drowned it with the power of Rainar before it could slaughter the man I thought I loved.
“Ary, there’s no telling how many of them?—”
“I know .”
His lips tightened into a thin line. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to come with you, just for part of the journey?” He eyed me worriedly behind his circular glasses. “I can circle back just west of the Barracks. They won’t see me?—”
“No. Thank you.” I finished my water and stood from the table. If I waited any longer, he’d find a way to talk me out of this. “I’ll have Shera.”
I could tell he wanted to protest, but he mercifully refrained.
Minutes later, Damond and I stood in front of the mirror, stunned at the person staring back at us. Her shoulder-length hair was black as night, her eyes a swirling cerulean blue. I kept my pale skin tone, but my freckles were much darker. No part of me felt different.
My scars were covered up because I couldn’t risk anyone seeing them and guessing at who I was.
I had four of them. The claw mark on my right collarbone where Molochai had impaled me with his talons.
The long, jagged tear down my front from his blade.
And the faded gash over my heart, where Molochai had stabbed me as an infant four centuries ago.
Finally, there was a long scar over the center of my pelvis.
I’d been told a growth had been removed, but I hadn’t forgotten Gavin’s bewildered reaction to it.
Damond squeezed my shoulders, mercifully pulling me back to the present.
I cleared my throat. “Do I still look like me?”
“Yes. Just a bit more… vicious. Seductive, maybe.” He admired me with an unobtrusive gaze. “But also a little scary.”
My laugh sounded displaced coming from my altered face in the mirror. “Good.”
Damond had never made me feel desired in any way. I appreciated that more than he likely realized. He was a haven for the part of me that was confused about what, or who , I wanted.
“Do you think he’d recognize me?” My barely whispered words made me wince. I shouldn’t care, but I did.
Damond’s laughter eased the nervous tension. “That man would recognize you covered in shit with a sack over your head.”
My immediate laughter faded at the sight of the thin metal chain disappearing beneath the neck of my shirt. Attached were two silver rings. One large and tarnished, the other delicate, barely worn, covered with intricate vines.
I kept those rings together and couldn’t bring myself to take them off. They were a part of me, whether I wanted them to be or not.
Damond and I avoided our goodbyes until we stood in the dense forest south of the cabin.
Sunlight scattered through the budding canopy of oaks and maples, sprinkling warmth over my skin.
The temperatures in northern Avendrel were moderate, but it was still early spring, and the heat was more than welcome.
“We should part ways here,” I declared, forcing myself to sound brave.
Damond watched as I counted each of the blades on my hip, my fingers lingering on the hilt of the centuries-old dagger Gavin gave me. The dagger I used to make my first kill.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying not to recall the Insidion’s silent plea during his final moments. I never wanted to kill again, though I knew I would have to.
“I’ll see you again?” I asked Damond.
“Yes.” Concern tainted his typically bright and calm expression. “You keep yourself alive. I’ll do the same.”
My bag’s strap slid over the shoulders of my jacket, into which I’d sewn a black wool hood to shield me from the early spring chill.
With her snout, Shera gently nudged me southward, but my feet felt trapped in the muddy earth.
When Damond let loose a tear, I lost control of my own and threw my arms around him.
He held me tight and cupped the back of my head.
Moments later, still sniffling, I forced myself to withdraw.
“Thank you, Damond.” Hopefully my gratitude was clear on my face, because I knew my words weren’t adequate to convey it. “Thank you for everything.”
His warm smile told me he understood. “It’s been an honor, Your Highness.” He smirked when I scoffed. He knew I hated being called that, especially by friends.
“Goodbye for now,” I croaked, turning to go.
“For now,” he agreed. “And Ary?”
I turned back to see his twinkling brown eyes watching me, strong and sure. Just like someone else we knew. “You know exactly who you are.”