Chapter 37 #2
Magnus’s idea of guards within the city is very different to Korvane’s. In fact, I would say there are probably only a quarter as many guards spread throughout Isthyr as there are in the High Hold alone. And aside from Toren, they’re all women.
‘Why do you think they keep the women here and don’t let them fight?
’ I ask Kyor as we make our way to the temple.
It feels easier to discuss that than the blade that weighs heavily on my hip.
‘They’re clearly formidable – we saw them fight the jotnar – and Magnus wouldn’t let them guard the city if they weren’t. ’
‘My guess,’ Kyor says, ‘is that he uses them for other purposes. Sure, their eyes are different to ours, but a good spell can change that, you know.’ He gives me a look, his mother’s eyes flashing at me, as if I need a reminder.
‘Everyone thinks the Issen have those lace patterns, but with a bit of hair dye and a spell, any of these women could pass as Morathkian and infiltrate Wrohelm, with no one the wiser. You recall there was a rebel who attacked using ice?’
I swallow hard and nod. ‘Yeah.’
I consider his answer, but it doesn’t land quite right with me, not completely.
Kyor sees my doubt at his suggestion. ‘You think something different.’
‘Maybe,’ I admit. ‘Like you said, the women look similar to us Morathkian women. Maybe Magnus is too concerned about them getting mixed up and killing their own by accident.’
‘Maybe.’
Or maybe it’s a little of both.
It doesn’t take long until we’re standing in front of the temple of Oel, ready to start the morning with my prayers.
‘Are you coming in?’ I ask Kyor.
His eyes skim from the temple down the street to where a small cluster of guards are gathered.
‘Actually, I thought I might speak to a couple of people while you’re in there.
See if anyone’s got any ideas about who could’ve broken in last night.
I can’t believe Magnus knows the magic of every single person in the city.
Maybe there’s a shade he doesn’t know about.
Otherwise … the pyrrhic isn’t as safe as he thinks it is. ’
‘Just try not to cause any trouble,’ I say with a smile. ‘Meet you on the edge of the field in a bit?’
‘Of course. Don’t go off with Stefan without me.’
‘As if I’d dare!’ I joke.
My prayers this time start with thanks. Thanks for the magic that floods through me and the control over it that I am gaining, thanks for the riverweed I grew and the wolf I created.
Thanks for the slowness with which William’s icy pattern seems to be spreading, not that I’ve seen it in far too long.
My desperation for a vision of my family grows stronger and stronger with every passing day, and I’ve even tried meditating to get back there, but the temple is not the place to vent my frustrations, and so pushing them down, I continue my gratitude instead.
Next I thank Oel for Isthyr itself, because as I become more and more at home in the city, there is one overwhelming thought that fills my mind.
William would be safe here. Not just safe. He would be a prince. Trained in his powers. He could complete the Veil, grow stronger than ever.
The pain in my hand spikes, enough to draw a gasp from my lips. It’s the reminder I don’t need that my time grows ever short.
Perhaps William would not be safe here. Maybe it’s best to keep him away from the poison that floods my arms. Who knows what visions it might show him, what lessons it might force him to learn.
And Kay…
My heart throbs with pain as I think about her loss. Maybe this would be what she needs. Maybe starting over as a princess in a beautiful, far-away city would give her space from the pain of losing the baby.
But are Jonas’s feelings genuine enough that he would defect and move to Isthyr to be with her?
It’s a big ask, and one I might not be able to pose if I don’t complete the Veil. But that’s a task for this afternoon. For now, I have training.
When I reach the edge of the fields, Stefan is already waiting for me. Grinning. Not just a smile, but an actual, full-on, unwavering grin.
‘So,’ he steps towards me, just a fraction closer than is comfortable, shaking his head, ‘you did some pretty impressive magic yesterday, Princess.’
So today is not to be a day when he berates me for my lack of control, but rather one where he again pushes the idea of us ruling together.
As the thought enters my mind, I can’t help but think I was right in what I said to Brida.
The Veil was very wrong in accepting him.
He can’t be the best on offer for the city, not when there are men like Toren or learned women like Tove.
But if the Veil thinks him worthy, then there must be goodness in him. Just buried deep, deep down.
I rub my ear, not sure how I should react. ‘So you saw that, huh?’
‘I think all of Isthyr saw that. You have people very excited. But unless the Veil wanted you to learn how to make pretty sculptures, I’m guessing you’re no closer to the throne? You’re running out of time, Princess. Maybe I won’t be able to have you at my side to rule after all.’
My lip curls. ‘If the choice is between becoming your queen and joining Mortidem’s kingdom, then tell the God of Death to set an extra place at his table.’
‘Ah,’ he says, eyes glinting with a darkness that shouldn’t be possible in such white irises, ‘I suspect he’s already set one.’
My jaw clenches. ‘You don’t deserve to rule.’
‘And you think you do?’
‘I want what’s best for Isthyr,’ I reply.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that’s what happens.’ He moves towards me and leans in, his breath hot against my ear. ‘You know, Princess, I like it when my women put up a little fight.’
Anger surges through me and I lift my knee, ready to strike him, only for him to leap back.
‘Fuck!’ he hisses.
A ripple of satisfaction rolls through me, and I know when I turn around that I’m going to find Kyor behind me.
‘Sorry. Didn’t interrupt anything there, did I, Stef?’ The prince glowers.
Gritting his teeth and ignoring Kyor entirely, Stefan focuses on me. ‘Given how big that wolf was yesterday and how much magic you clearly have in you, we need to move further away.’
‘Why are you still doing this?’ I respond, my feet remaining planted on the ground. ‘You obviously hate training me. Why not get someone else to do it?’
‘Someone else? Who? Toren? That man can barely stomach killing Morathkian scum. He’s not going to give you the push you need to be better.’
‘Then one of the women. There are plenty of phenomenal fighters here. I’ve seen them.’
‘And they have roles. Jobs to do to keep the city running. Not to mention the number that have been pulled away from the pyrrhic means that they’re already spread thin. Training warriors is my role, and the king wants you trained well. So while he’s king, I’ll stay on his good side.’
So that’s it. He’s still bridging both sides. Assuming he and Ranveeg don’t get their way, he wants to ensure he’s not completely out of favour.
If I hadn’t been sure before, I am now. I really don’t like him.
‘Now, are we training, or are we going to spend what little time you have left talking?’
Now I want to make him hurt.
‘Fine, let’s go,’ I reply and begin marching away.
‘I assume you’re coming,’ he adds with a glare at Kyor.
‘You think I’d let you out of my sight with Rose? I guess you do have a sense of humour after all.’
‘No wolves today?’ Stefan remarks.
‘They’ll be joining us in a bit,’ I tell him. ‘They went out through the pyrrhic last night. To hunt.’
It’s only half a lie as they technically were hunting, but hunting the person who stole into my room, hoping that they’d let the magic drop somewhere so that they could pick up the trail.
But the expedition was fruitless. They only got back after breakfast, and a little rest is the least they deserve.
Still, Stefan wasn’t joking about going further away, and we walk for over two hours before he finally stops.
‘Okay, let’s see what you’ve got, Princess,’ he says. ‘Show me a shield.’
A shield? I want to show him a sword or a spear – not to mention the blood I could draw with one.
The arrogant arsehole has been making my life difficult for weeks, and while he is helping me, it’s begrudging, for sure.
And I can’t help but wonder if he’s deliberately hindering my progress by riling me so that control is always out of reach.
It’s that thought that has me drawing in a long, steadying breath, forcing calm through the chaos of my thoughts. My magic still bucks against my control, restless as a winter gale, but I gather it anyway and try to shape it into the demanded shield.
Instead, ice erupts around me.
A glittering dome rises around me, its crystalline walls catching the light like cut diamonds. For a heartbeat, I think I’ve succeeded. Sure, it’s not a standard shield, but it’s definitely a little safe haven.
Then Stefan effortlessly drives his boot into it.
The ice fractures with a sharp crack and collapses into a cascade of sparkling shards. Before they can pelt me, I seize hold of the falling magic and reshape it. The fragments soften into snowflakes, drifting gently through the air to nestle in my braid instead of battering my skin.