Page 8

Chapter Eight

Annora

The sun glares through the windows, waking me the following morning. I blink through the bright haze and groan as the memories from the day before rush over me. Aleksander’s demands. Emerin being tied up in her bedchamber. The Phoenix.

I sit up and push the covers aside. As much as it tempts me, I can’t just sit here and wallow. I need to take action, to wrest some control over my situation.

A bird sings outside my window as I dress, pulling on a simple gown and running a brush through my hair.

As I slip out of the room, I cringe at the sight of Aleksander standing in the corridor.

“Come with me,” he says.

“To where?” I ask, unwilling to go until he explains.

“To the Argent Chamber.”

“The Argent Chamber is for people to learn how to use their silver magic. You know I don’t have my rune.” Maybe I would if my mother hadn’t disappeared.

Even if she were here, she probably wouldn’t teach me about my silver magic. It’s as if she thinks it’s cursed. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s better to not know.

Where are you, Mother?

Are you safe?

“Well done, Annora.” He smirks. “You know what the Argent Chamber is for.”

I cross my arms and scowl at him. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why.”

“Because I said so.” His lips quirk up at the corner. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No.” I turn away from him, but he steps in front of me.

“You wound me, truly.” He places a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Here I am, trying to help you—”

“—help me?” I scoff. “You’ve done nothing but hurt people since you arrived.”

“Such harsh words.” He leans against the wall and folds his arms. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Friends don’t steal each other’s magic.”

“Steal is such an ugly word. I prefer borrowed indefinitely.”

Frustration sears through me as I curl my fingers into fists. “Stop playing games.”

“Games are so much more fun than being serious all the time.” He pushes off the wall. “You should try it sometime. That frown will give you wrinkles.”

“Aleksander…”

“Annora…” He mimics my tone perfectly.

“Just tell me why you want me to go to the Argent Chamber.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine, if you insist on being boring about it. I want you to learn about your Phoenix. You need to understand her capabilities.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

“Yes, but where’s the entertainment in that?” Mirth sparks in his dark eyes as he continues. “Besides, your face gets all scrunched up when you’re annoyed. It’s quite amusing.”

“I’m leaving,” I say as I walk away from him.

“The Argent Chamber is the other direction,” he calls after me.

“I know that.”

His laugh echoes down the hallway. “No, you don’t. You’re going the wrong way.”

I stop, realizing he’s right.

“Come now,” he says. “I promise to behave, mostly .”

A scowl pulls at my mouth as I turn and follow him through the corridors.

Aleksander talks the entire way down the corridor.

“Good morning, Marcus.” He waves at a guard who just stares straight ahead. “Don’t mind him. He’s practicing his statue impression. Doing quite well at it too, wouldn’t you say?”

I roll my eyes.

“Oh, and there’s Mathilda.” He bows to a marble bust. “Looking particularly stony today, My Lady. That new polish really brings out your eyes.”

A maid scurries past with an armful of linens, and Aleksander grins at her. “Helena, those bedcovers look exceptionally crisp. You must tell me your secret.”

The poor girl nearly drops her load in surprise. “M-my Lord?”

“The secret to such pristine folding. I’ve been trying to master it for summers.” He leans closer to her. “Between you and me, I think the bedcovers are winning.”

The maid giggles and hurries away.

“And here we have Sir Reginald the Bold.” He gestures to a suit of armor. “He hasn’t moved from this spot in decades. Such dedication.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” I ask.

“Now that’s an interesting philosophical question. What truly defines talking? Is it the words themselves or the meaning behind them? Oh, good morning, Frederick,” he says as he waves at another guard.

We turn a corner, and he gasps at another bust. “Lady Beatrice. You’ve changed your hair. Very daring choice, going for the whole stone look.”

Two maids passing by burst into laughter, which only encourages him more.

“You know,” he says, “these halls used to be so dreary before I started naming all the artwork. Now they’re positively buzzing with personality. Isn’t that right, Geoffrey?” He pats a gargoyle on the head.

I press my lips together, fighting back amusement. It’s harder than it should be to remember he’s my enemy when he’s like this.

“Is that…” Aleksander leans closer to inspect my face, “…could it be? No, surely not.”

“What?”

“I do believe that was almost a smile.” He leans toward a window and yells out. “Quick, someone alert the palace scribes. This moment must be recorded for posterity.”

My lips instantly pull down into a frown. “It wasn’t.”

“Oh, but it was.” He moves ahead of me, then walks backward to keep facing me. “I saw it with my own eyes. Right there.” He points at my mouth. “The corners went up and everything.”

“You’re seeing things.”

“Am I?” He raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps we should consult Sir Reginald. He witnessed the whole thing.”

“The suit of armor?”

“He’s very observant.” Aleksander grins. “Haven’t you noticed how he follows you with his eyes?”

“He doesn’t have eyes.”

“Details, details.” Dismissively, he waves his hand. “The point is, you smiled. Or at least attempted to. It was a valiant effort, really. A bit rusty, but with practice—”

“—I did not smile.”

“Denial won’t change the truth, Annora.” He places a hand over his heart. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Well, me and Sir Reginald. And possibly Lady Beatrice, but she’s quite good at keeping things to herself. Being made of stone helps with that.”

I scowl at him, which only makes his grin widen.

“Much better,” he says. “That frown suits you far more. We wouldn’t want people thinking you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

When we reach the door outside the Argent Chamber, he shoves it open. It takes everything in me to follow him into the room, where rose-colored marble stretches across the floor, tall windows line the circular walls, and ancient tomes rest on shelves carved directly into the stone.

In the center, a raised dais holds what appears to be a pool of liquid silver. But it’s not the dais that holds my attention. It’s the person standing there, a smile on her face.

Rowena.

The House of Crimson’s Muchrah.

She looks the same as she always does—autumn-colored eyes and long gray hair.

The corners of her mouth lift into that familiar gentle smile, the one that made learning about crimson fire magic fun.

“What…” I swallow and start over. “What is she doing here?”

“Rowena has agreed to help you learn how to control the Phoenix,” Aleksander says.

Is she another traitor? Another person willing to risk everything to overthrow Jasce?

My stomach clenches, but I refuse to run away. Either I can accept her help, or I can refuse.

When Aleksander steps out of the room and leaves me alone with Rowena, a part of me considers following him and avoiding the truths about Lyra’s magic. But I cannot walk away, not when I need to understand this part of who I am now.

It’s like a new tree sprouting inside me, and unless I understand all the branches, I’ll never flourish.

The Muchrah guides me to the center of the room. “Command your Phoenix. Call to her.”

“I...” I exhale and start over. “I don’t know how.”

Rowena’s long hem trails the marble as she steps closer.

“Close your eyes and picture yourself standing in a field full of stars, where each one is a thread of magic, connecting you to everything around you. One of those threads burns brighter than the rest, like a river of fire cutting through the night sky.”

A river of fire?

Why does that sound beautiful?

I do as she instructs, letting my eyes fall shut. The darkness behind them shifts, transforming as points of light bloom like flowers opening their petals.

“Do you see it?” Rowena asks, her voice distant now. “That blazing thread?”

Among the petals, one streak of flame stretches before me. “Yes.”

“That’s your bond with Emberdione. Reach for it. Not with your hand, with your essence. Let your spirit flow along that connection.”

My consciousness drifts forward, drawn to that ribbon of fire. The moment I touch it, heat floods through me. Not burning, but warm, like sunshine on bare skin after a long winter.

“Now pull,” Rowena says. “Draw her to you through that bond.”

I gather my will and tug on that blazing thread, and a flash of light fills the chamber. When it fades, Emberdione hovers before us, her feathers shimmering with inner fire.

“The Phoenix isn’t just a creature you summon.

She’s an extension of your spirit, bound to you by something deeper than magic.

That’s why only you can summon her.” Rowena continues speaking as she circles Emberdione.

“Most people think Phoenixes exist solely to burn, to reduce everything to ash, but that’s like saying the moon exists only to cast shadows. ”

The Phoenix stretches her wings, and the air ripples with golden heat. Each feather catches the light differently—amber near her body, deepening to burnished copper at the tips.

The Muchrah continues speaking. “When you’re wounded, she can mend you. Her flames don’t just burn—they restore.”

My hand drifts to the scar on my face, the reminder of that long ago accident with the pot of boiling water. “She can heal?”

“Yes, but only you, and only if you’re deeply bonded with her. A Phoenix will not heal someone she doesn’t trust. And if she does trust you, her flames become an extension of your life force.” Rowena’s eyes soften as she adds, “Show her, Emberdione.”

The Phoenix dips her head, and a small flame leaps from her beak to dance across my forearm. Instead of pain, warmth spreads through my skin, into my muscles, down to my very bones.

“Excellent. That means she trusts you ,” Rowena smiles as she continues speaking.

“Her healing can even go deeper than physical wounds. For example, when grief or fear threaten to overwhelm you, her presence alone can steady you. But remember, this gift comes with responsibility. A Phoenix’s healing flame is sacred, and it’s not meant to be wielded carelessly or at another’s command. ”

“I understand.”

“Now, you must learn to release her when the need has passed. A Phoenix isn’t meant to linger in our realm indefinitely. The same thread that brought her here can guide her back. Find it again.”

I close my eyes, searching for that connection. It burns brighter now, more tangible than before, like a rope of living flame stretching between us.

“Now imagine that thread growing longer and stretching across the boundary between worlds. Let her follow it home.”

My throat tightens. “What if I need her again?”

“The bond remains. Distance cannot break it. Only death,” Rowena says. “Trust in that connection.”

I breathe deep and focus on the fiery thread. Instead of pulling, I let it unspool. Emberdione spreads her wings, and light wraps around her form before dissolving into motes of flame that fade into nothing.

The chamber is colder without her presence, but I still feel that thread of connection humming in my chest.

“Well done,” Rowena says. “Remember, a Phoenix is not a pet to be kept, but a partner to be respected. Call her when you must, release her when you can.”

“Thank you,” I say, the words inadequate for the knowledge Rowena just shared with me, but they’re all I have. “For teaching me about Emberdione.”

The lines near Rowena’s eyes deepen as she smiles. “Knowledge, when shared, grows like a garden. Today we planted seeds.”

Rowena reaches into the folds of her surcoat and pulls out a small crystal vial. Golden liquid catches the light as she holds it out to me. “Here, drink this Vohlcom Elixir. You’ll need it.”

My fingers close around the warm glass. The honey-sweet scent hits my nose before I even uncork it. I tip the vial back, and warmth floods my mouth—sweet at first, then spicy.

Heat spreads through my chest, down my arms, into my fingertips. My muscles unwind, tension releasing like ice thawing in the spring. Each breath comes easier, deeper, as if I’ve been running for hours and finally found rest.

“Better?” Rowena asks.

I flex my hands, marveling at how the heaviness has vanished. “Much better. Thank you.”

She smiles and turns to the shelves, straightening vials and books.

I lick my bottom lip and ask the question that has been burning at my thoughts since I first saw her in the Argent Chamber. “Why are you here?”

“Because you needed me. And Aleksander asked me to.”

Curse Aleksander.

“What about your loyalty to your chieftain?” I ask, refusing to cower from this line of questioning.

Rowena turns and studies me for several moments before speaking. “I am showing him loyalty by aiding his wife.”

Is she?

Or is she really helping Aleksander?

The question haunts me as I slip from the room.

Torchlight flickers over the walls as I step into the corridor and draw in a quick breath through my teeth. While I learned more about my crimson magic, Emerin was still locked in her room.

My steps slow as I reach her bedchamber and press my forehead against the door. “Em, are you all right?”

Her footsteps shuffle across the room, then stop near the door. “I’m well, Rora. Are you?”

Emotions tighten in my throat as I fight the powerful urge to tear the door down. “I’m well.”

“I hear the lie in your voice,” Emerin says, her words far too keen, too perceptive.

“You always see through my lies,” I admit. “But I worry about you.”

“Don’t.” Her voice carries that familiar warmth, that gentleness. “Focus on yourself. You’re the one who needs to stay strong.”

I curl my fingers into tight fists. “How can you say that when you’re locked in your bedchamber?”

“Because I know things will work out.” A soft thud suggests she’s leaning against her side of the door. “They always do, in their own way. Remember when we were little, and that storm destroyed the garden? You cried for days, but the next spring, everything grew back stronger.”

I smile as I recall that day. “How do you remember that?”

“Because it made you so sad.” She pauses for a moment, then continues. “Trust in yourself, Rora, and everything else will fall into place.”

Pain squeezes around my heart as I glance down at the turquoise ring on my finger.

“I’ll find my way back,” I whisper, more to myself than Emerin.

“To him?” she asks softly.

My breath catches. Of course she knows.

“Yes. I don’t know how yet, but I will. And I will take you and Tahira with me.”

“I know you will.” The certainty in her voice strengthens my resolve.

I touch the door one last time, imagining I can feel her warmth through the wood. “I love you, Em.”

“I love you too.”